“Listen, I need to get going. It was good to see you.” Ben smiled and Jeremiah returned it. It took everything he had inside him to hold the grin for a moment before pushing away from the building.

“It was good to see you too, Ben. Listen...if you ever need anything, you know I’m around, right?”

The words were meant to soothe him but all they did was piss him off. He didn’t need Jeremiah’s pity. “I’m fine. I’m a hero, remember?”

CHAPTER TEN

With the heels of his hands, Ben rubbed his eyes trying to make his double vision go away. The music in the club made his head ache but he pushed through because being here was better than being in his apartment. Here he had a chance to find something to make him forget—if he could handle it, that was.

The music helped to drown out the voices of Tristan, his father, mother, and Bonnie. Hell, even Jeremiah and Dante joined the conversations in his head.

He was losing it. He felt that, knew it, yet Ben didn’t know how to stop drifting. He didn’t know how to stay afloat.

When he glanced up, he noticed a ginger watching him from the corner. When their eyes met, the boy looked down, away, and Ben could tell it wasn’t a game. He wasn’t playing the shy, innocent boy. He wasn’t only letting his eyes shift down because he was submissive either. He was totally green. One glance the ginger’s way and Ben could see it. It was a reminder of himself the first time he’d gone looking for sex. The difference was Ben had only been fifteen years old and this man was obviously older.

One foot in front of the other, Ben headed his way. It didn’t take long for Ben to reach him. When he did, the ginger gave him a shy smile, his cheeks a nice shade of pink.

“Do you like what you see?” Ben asked him, still struggling with the fatigue that weighed him down.

“Yes...yes, sir. Do I call you sir?” he asked.

“No. What do you like? What do you want?”

“I want to be hurt,” he whispered so softly Ben could hardly hear him. His pulse kicked up a notch. Pain had never been his thing. The whipping was as far as it went. Not that that didn’t hurt because it did. He knew that, but what kind of pain would this kid want? But maybe it would be what helped Ben regain control of something in his life, or at least help him get back his ability to fuck.

“Whipping?”

“Yes...any kind of pain. And choking. I like that, too.”

Ben paused at that. It wasn’t something he’d ever done. He wasn’t sure it was something he wanted, either.

“Your face gets red just saying it. If you can’t say what you want without blushing, you shouldn’t be doing it. Is this your first time here?”

“I know what I want!” He stood taller at that. “This isn’t my first time. It helps...will you do it? Can you make me feel good?” the boy asked. “Please.”

Ben’s head spun. His gut ached. Anger ate through him—at himself because he couldn’t make his head shut the fuck up, at his mind because he couldn’t make it stop playing the days in that house with Javier over and over, or Bonnie. Christ, why was he seeing Bonnie so much again? Seeing his sister lying in her own blood, a knife, the knife, beside her.

“Please. I need it.”

Ben didn’t let himself think about his answer. He could do this. He could handle it. He could give the boy what he needed, and maybe help himself at the same time. “Yes. Come.”

Ben moved through the room, the boy behind him. He had to try different rooms before Ben could find the space and what they would need.  It was a bench, like the one Dante used.

“Lie down.” He nodded toward the bench and the ginger hurried to do as Ben said. It should feel good, should get his endorphins going having the boy rush to do as he was told but the feeling still evaded him.

“Should I take off my clothes?” he asked.

“Did I tell you to?”

With red cheeks, the boy shook his head. “Can...can you use this?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of leather with a loop in the end. He already had the opposite end strung through the hoop, so the leather made a circle. To go around his neck, no doubt.

Ben’s insides seized up. This wasn’t his game—breath play. It could easily go wrong. The fear gripping his internal organs didn’t let up, squeezed tighter as he thought about wrapping the leather around the boy’s throat and cutting off his air. Choking him before releasing and giving him life again.

His gut clenched.

“Please. It helps...”