Obey the Rules: Rough Love Part 2

By Leighton Greene

Ben Ballard and Xander Romano are determined to make their relationship work, no matter what.

The problem is, life seems determined to wear them down. Fame, distance, feelings...

Sometimes it's not as easy as talking things through. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

So how do you keep that connection? Simple. You obey the rules...

Obey the Rules is the second part of the Rough Love series. Join Ben and Xander in their continuing odyssey of self-discovery, experimentation, and steamy fun as they work out the kinks together. Never fear - these two will get their HEA. It'll just take them some time to figure out what that happy ending looks like for them...

Rough Love can be rough. Please proceed with caution if you have any triggers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leighton Greene
• Release date: Jul 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005130695

Leighton Greene

Leighton Greene hails from Australia, where she lives with her partner, an academic, and her trusty cockatiel. She's been sharing her stories with the world since 2019, but she's been writing for much longer.When she's not busy crafting her next novel, Leighton can be found devouring tacos, scaring herself silly with horror movies, and exploring ancient worlds in the Assassin's Creed franchise. She's also known for having more book ideas than she knows what to do with.From steamy, passionate and dangerous, to funny and heartwarming, Leighton's books offer unique, immersive storylines that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Get ready for complex characters, intense emotions, and plenty of heat!Find her online:www.leightongreene.comNewsletter: www.leightongreene.com/newsletterFacebook: www.facebook.com/leightongreeneauthorGroup: https://www.facebook.com/groups/LeightonGreeneReadersSign up to Leighton's mailing list (www.leightongreene.com/newsletter) for updates on her works and series, and the occasional freebie and sneak peek.

Book preview

Chapter One

I ’m not doing it, absolutely not. Benjamin Ballard folds his arms stubbornly and glares at his agent, Ramona Jones.

Ben, it’s just another interview. You talked about him in the last one, so if you don’t do it in this one, people will think you’ve broken up or something. All you’ll need to do is—

No. Ben glares at his agent. "I hate doing it, you know I hate doing it, I’m not doing it. Not anymore. And isn’t that website the one that printed that photo of me and my goddamn sister and insinuated I was sleeping with someone behind Xander’s back?"

Ben’s boyfriend’s career has blown up, exactly the way Ben always knew it would—and right along with it, their privacy. Xander Romano has always been out and proud; that’s definitely not the problem. It’s just that the kind of love they have, and the kind of kinky stuff they get up to behind closed doors, is nobody else’s business.

But Ramona Jones, Hollywood agent extraordinaire, always wants Ben to use Xander’s name like a password. It’s like referring to Xander in interviews is short-hand for See, someone famous loves me; everyone else should too!

While admittedly it’s been great for Ben’s career—getting him an internship on a hot Sunday-night drama and his scripts in front of people who matter, who can actually do things in this town—it’s taken a toll on Ben personally. Fame is not all it’s cracked up to be, and even being a relative bystander is less fun than he thought it would be. Some skeezy photographer got all up in his face the other morning, demanding to know if he knew any spoilers for Xander’s show, The Hunter. Xander is playing the season’s villain, Jasper Crane, and the show is the biggest thing on TV right now. Ben can barely walk out of his apartment block without seeing Xander’s face plastered on a billboard, along with the rest of the cast. As time has passed, Xander’s image has been pushed more and more to the front of the ensemble, so obviously the showrunners think he’s a drawcard. Meanwhile, Ben has specifically asked Xander not to tell him anything about the season, just so he has no information to give, as though the paparazzi are going to kidnap and torture him for intel.

Ben wouldn’t put it past them. They swarm together sometimes in a very threatening manner. In short, he’s not coping well with the attention.

Look, this kind of advice is what you pay me for, Ramona says. If you don’t want to take it, that’s fine. I’m happy to take your money for nothing. But it’s still my job to make these suggestions, even if you don’t like them. She shrugs and taps her pen rapidly on the desk.

Ben rubs his hands all over his face, frustrated. "Xander doesn’t have to do this kind of shit, he says stubbornly. He doesn’t talk about me all the time."

Maybe that’s part of the problem, says a small voice in the back of his head. Maybe Ben is tired of trotting out his Big Gay Relationship for interviews when Xander never mentions it. It’s starting to feel like Ben is just riding his coat-tails, and more than that, like Xander doesn’t talk about Ben because he doesn’t want the general public to know about them.

Xander has nothing to gain from talking about you, Ramona says matter-of-factly, and immediately makes Ben feel even shittier. She tosses her pen down and he watches it roll. "You’re still finding your feet. You told me your next goal was to get this one-act play of yours up and running, as writer-director. You want to get into theater, like your boyfriend is so desperate to do? Then you need to remember which town you’re in. This isn’t New York. This bitch of a city doesn’t care about anything unless there’s a celebrity attached. That’s why I’m doing whatever I can to get you into the public eye. Soon enough you’ll want to get out of it again, believe me. And when that time comes, you can do whatever you like."

Ben already wants out of the public eye, but Ramona seems to feel he’s not at the right level of Famous yet to do what he wants to do. As if there’s some sort of fame barometer.

Sighing, he says: Look, I know you feel like I’m always resistant, but—

Ben, I have no feelings either way about what you will and won’t do for your career, other than the fact that it makes my life easier when you just do what I say. Do I need to get Xander to call you up and command you?

Ben glares at her. He doesn’t know how much Ramona knows about his relationship with Xander, but she makes the occasional little comment like that. It makes him wonder.

That’s not funny, he says. And I don’t want to do theater just because of Xander.

She rolls her eyes. "Sweetheart, gay gets paid these days. Why do you wanna crawl back into the closet so bad? I thought you were out. Mr Romano certainly is, even if he doesn’t talk about you much."

Ben stares at her. Xander has been leveraging his newfound fame to raise awareness for LGBTQI+ causes, and that’s great. The thing that stings is that Ramona has also noticed how often Xander doesn’t mention Ben. It makes his temper flare.

You think this is because I’m ashamed of my sexuality? he snaps. First of all, I’m not gay, I’m—

Bisexual, she sighs. I know. You remind me every time it comes up.

Ben throws his hands up. They’ve had this conversation too many times. "Xander and I just don’t like being so public with our private lives. Is it really that hard to understand?" It’s the kink stuff that he and Xander don’t want people to know about. People can twist those kinds of relationships. The media can twist those kind of relationships, more importantly.

"It’s not about being public, it’s about publicity. Spin, Ramona adds, when she sees him roll his eyes. Your boyfriend is hot right now. Not cashing in on that, as your agent, would be bordering on malpractice for me. And, she wheedles, I’m sure Xander will understand. He always does, right? He’s very savvy about this kind of thing."

You’re just saying that to try to convince me.

Has it worked?

Some days Ben loves the way this town works. Other days he feels like he’s being ground up in the churning gears of the Hollywood Machine.

Xander does understand every time Ben name-drops him, although Ben always feels like there’s an undercurrent of disappointment there. But in general, they don’t talk much about what they each have to do for the Machine. Ben assumes it grinds on Xander as much as it does on him, but at least they have each other.

Or they sort of have each other, anyway. As much as you can have someone three thousand miles away. Since Xander’s move to New York for filming The Hunter, it’s been hard. Missing Xander has somehow become Ben’s main hobby. Ben goes to his paid internship at the studio, sits in the writers’ room and does his job, but he doesn’t socialize with the other writers much. Even when he does, he feels like a wet blanket. He still drags himself out to drinks or meals occasionally, thanks to friends from the old coffee shop where he used to work. And then there are the coffee or lunch meetings Ramona makes him go to with her other clients, for networking, she says, but really so Ben can get photographed with people who are more important than he is right now.

Worse, those photo-ops always turn into speculation and gossip about whether he and Xander are still together, whether Ben is cheating, whether Ben is a straight guy just sleeping with Xander for his career’s sake. Ben hates it all with a passion, although he has to admit, Ramona’s other clients always have great advice for him.

But it’s draining. Everything is draining. When Xander was around, Ben always felt like he could take on the world, because Xander was his rock…but right now, the house that Ben’s building is wobbling on its sandy foundations.

Ben and Xander speak regularly on the phone, but it’s not the same. Xander is not a big phone talker, for one, and texts more than he calls. And for the first few weeks Ben had to avoid Xander’s calls entirely, because he found it too difficult to cope with his voice divorced from hot flesh, dark eyes, sharp teeth. They’ve tried video calls of course, but they’re both better and worse than voice-only. Besides, Xander is always busy or exhausted, and it ends up making Ben melancholy that he can’t be there to help his boyfriend relax.

There is one thing that keeps Ben feeling a little grounded: he’s religiously re-inked the sharpie XR on his ass every couple of days, the one Xander signed on him before leaving LA. It’s the only physical connection on his body to Xander after the bruises fade and the cuts heal. And besides, Xander keeps demanding photographs of it unexpectedly, trying to catch him out. Ben tries his best to redraw exactly over the same lines, to keep Xander’s handwriting, but over the weeks the letters have become more familiar, more his own work.

Sometimes he sits on the bed with Xander’s knife and thinks about cutting his own skin; argues with himself about whether it’s really self-harm. Is it any different to when Xander does it to him, after all?

Xander thinks it’s different. When Ben asked his opinion, the phone line went silent.

Hello? Ben asked eventually.

"Benjamin, if you ever do anything like that, I will remove that knife from your possession."

Ben was inclined to argue that at least then he’d see Xander, but Xander sounded alarmed, so he didn’t tease. I’m not going to do anything stupid.

"Anything stupid? Jesus Christ. Don’t do anything at all. Promise me."

Stop talking to me like I’m an idiot!

"Promise me."

Ben promised, but they were snappish with each other for days afterwards.

Xander seems so far away these days and Ben misses him like crazy. He misses the way he felt a spectrum of slightly-sore to fucking-ouch the mornings after he’d been with Xander, and he misses the marks and the bruises and the aches that reminded him, without a doubt, that he’d been loved aggressively the night before. He misses the pain, the unpredictability, the fun.

He misses Xander. More than he thought possible. And instead of being able to just crawl into bed for two months and miss Xander, his agent expects him to go out to get papped, do interviews, and answer question after question about his relationship with Xander.

Ben calls Xander that night from a bar, after one drink too many.

Are you hammered again? Xander says, instead of hello.

What? No. Well, maybe. How did you know? Sometimes Xander is unnervingly perceptive.

Because it’s midnight here, and you only call this late when you’re drunk.

Oh. Sorry. I didn’t look at the time.

You never do, apparently.

Ben feels momentarily guilty. Yeah, he’s done it a few times, but it’s not like it’s on purpose. Not totally.

So why are you out drinking on a Wednesday night? Xander asks tiredly.

Because I want to, okay? God. What are you, my mother?

There’s a pause, and then Xander says, "You woke me up. Why are you getting mad at me?"

I’m not. Ben signals the bartender for another drink. He’ll have to Uber it home, leave his car parked here and pick it up tomorrow, but he doesn’t care. I saw Ramona today.

How’s she doing?

Obsessed with you, as usual.

Xander laughs.

It’s not fucking funny. I have to go do another interview about you.

"You have to, huh?"

Ben takes a long, long swig of his drink. "Yeah, Xander. I have to. I’m not you, okay? I’m not all Mr Mysterious Famous Gay Guy. He makes mysterious wiggly fingers in the air as though Xander can see them, but drops his hand when he catches the eye of the confused jock across the bar. That, according to my agent, is not going to work for me."

I’m not Mr—

Yeah, actually, you really fucking are.

Ben, Xander sighs, why did you call me? Was it just to swear at me?

I called because I wanted to talk to my boyfriend.

Oh, is that what this is?

If you’re going to get all pissy about it, forget it. Go back to sleep or whatever you were doing. Ben feels bad then, because, yeah. He’s being a tool. But he’s also angry. He’s tired of his agent telling him what to do, where to go, what to say. And he’s tired of Xander being in New York.

There’s a long hush on the line, and then Xander says, Ballard, go home. Don’t sit at that bar all alone making yourself crazy and drunk.

"Don’t tell me what to do, Ben hisses. We’re not in fucking bed right now." He regrets it as soon as he says it, but Xander doesn’t rise to the bait. In fact, his calmness is pretty infuriating.

Alright. Stay at the bar drinking, by all means, Xander says.

I plan to, Ben snaps.

Okay. Enjoy yourself.

"I will," Ben sulks.

I love you, Xander says, in that low sexy voice of his.

That’s not fair. Love you, too, Ben mumbles.

Goodnight, baby.

It’s only later that Ben wonders how Xander knew he was alone at the bar.

He calls Xander again on Saturday night when he gets home early from a studio function, where he drank more than he meant to. But then he has another drink at home before he calls, because he’s sobered up too much in the Uber.

It’s two in the morning, Xander growls when he finally picks up. No hello.

Oh. Right. I didn’t look at the time, I guess. I’ve been out.

Why are you always drunk when you call me these days? Xander is sighing and yawning at the same time, and he doesn’t sound happy.

"I’m not drunk. Not drunk drunk, anyway."

You’re drunk enough. Seriously, baby, I have to get up in a few hours, so—

"I miss you, okay? I’m sorry I actually give a shit. Silence. Forget it, Ben snaps. Okay, maybe he’s a bit drunker than he thought. Sorry I fucking woke you."

I miss you too, Xander says, but the careful way he says it is incredibly irritating. I know it’s hard.

"You have no fucking idea, Xander. No fucking idea how hard it is." Yeah, Ben’s probably drunk, because he doesn’t usually swear so much. Or so emphatically.

So tell me, Xander says. "Tell me."

This sucks, Ben says heavily.

Yeah. Sucks a lot.

Ben can hear Xander breathing, like the phone is too close to his mouth. He can picture him, still sleepy, phone stuck between the pillow and his face.

"Talk to me, Ben says. I miss you." Make me feel better, he thinks.

I— Xander cuts himself off with a yawn, but Ben can hear every possibility. I have to get up in a few hours. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have anything to talk about. I miss you too, Xander says. I hate being away from you. I want you to come see me.

Oh. I, uh. I can’t right now. Ben can feel his moral high ground crumbling away. I have to finish a first-pass script for the show, and Ramona wants me to meet up with some producers soon. Um, about my play.

So what exactly do you want me to do?

Ben feels his anger growing again, and it’s wild and hot and incandescent like he’s going to explode with it. Do whatever you want, he says. And before he can stop himself: You always do.

"What? I—what? Yeah, okay. I’m gonna go now. Call me when you’re sober." Xander hangs up.

Ben stares at his phone for a second, and then throws it across the room. It cracks loudly into the wall and then thuds to the carpet.

Chapter Two

When Ben wakes with a hollow aching head and a craving for bacon and eggs, he knows something is wrong. It takes a few seconds to place the bad feeling. It’s not just Xander being away, he did something, said something…oh. Oh, fuck.

He raises himself limply on one elbow to confirm: yeah, there’s his phone on the floor over there. Broken. He feels a hot rush of shame; if Xander knew, he’d be so disappointed in Ben. And then everything he said to Xander last night comes back, and it makes him feel even queasier.

When did you get so fucking dumb? he asks himself. I mean, seriously. Is it a genetic thing or did you just wake up stupider one day? He gets out of bed, dry-retches into the bathroom sink and turns on the shower as hot as he can stand it.

You gotta stop this, he says, water pouring into his mouth as he positions himself carefully under the shower-head. Stop. Stop. It’s the same thing he gurgles into the water each morning after he’s drunk-dialed Xander, which is happening with increasing regularity. No one likes a drunk. Stop it. Stop.

When he gets out of the shower, he’s going to have to call Xander and crawl for forgiveness. At the back of his mind, there’s the fear that this time Xander won’t forgive the inebriated snarls, but…

That’s the thing about Xander. He likes to have control during sex. But Ben is pretty sure that most of the time, he’s the one with the upper hand outside the bedroom. He’s better at relationship stuff. He was getting really good at being Xander’s boyfriend before he left. And if Ben hasn’t done so great since then, well, it’s understandable. Isn’t it?

The bedroom, that’s Xander’s arena. But they haven’t been in a bedroom together for weeks now.

He shakes his head under the water, pictures skewed graphs representing the power flow, tries to figure out where the lines would go up and down, what each axis would be labeled. He’s never been great at math. So fuck math, he thinks about Xander instead, Xander holding him down over something, the kitchen counter will do, and making him say sorry for being such a brat.

He’s going to rub one out but thinking about Xander makes him remember last night; his dick dies in his hand and he feels sick again.

All in all, though, Ben is feeling pretty safe. Like Ramona says, Xander’s the understanding type.

The phone rings out to voice mail the first time he calls, but Ben persists, and Xander answers the second time.

Hey, he says briefly. Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of shooting.

Sure, Ben says, and tries to tell him to call his decrepit landline rather than his cell, but the line goes dead immediately, and he’s left thinking that actually, Xander just doesn’t want to talk to him right now.

It’s over two hours later when Xander calls back, and Ben is furious. He’s been stuck at home waiting, since his cell is out of commission. It’s his only day off this week, and he has shit to do. Like buy a new goddamn cell phone.

A half hour into waiting Ben decided, fuck Xander, he would just go out and get some