Lavender & Gold - 9. The Return of the Past

CHAPTER NINE

The Return of the Past

Mark’s breath was hot in his ear, his bare chest pressed against Ben’s own. The heat and firmness of his body accentuated his words. ‘Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, I need you so, you have no idea!’

Ben had hardly had time to put his luggage down before Mark had been on him. He had given him a spare key to his flat before he left, with instructions on how to look after his orchids while he was away. The result of this was that when Ben had entered his flat, exhausted and jet-lagged, at seven in the morning on Thursday, Mark had been there waiting for him.

As much as Ben had wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep for twenty-four hours straight, he had wanted Mark more, and it had taken very little effort on his lover’s part to convince him.

Now he lay on his back, naked, with Mark on top of him, hands wandering, lips hungrily kissing every part of him he could reach. Mark’s hand slid down his stomach to touch his cock and Ben threw his head back and swore loudly upon the contact he had been denied for so long. As Mark’s mouth followed suit, Ben found himself pleading, begging, he knew not for what.

‘Oh God, Mark, please . . . Oh, fuck, please, please . . . You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve longed for you, for this, fucking hell, just, I can’t, please!’

Mark didn’t let him come. Instead he climbed up on top of him again, straddling his middle and lowering himself onto his length, gasping and moaning, eyes wide open and pupils dilated. He stared straight into Ben’s eyes, his breath coming in ragged pulls as he began to move. When Ben reached for his cock, Mark redirected his hands to his hips, opting to take care of himself. This only served to turn Ben on even more, if that were at all possible, and he gripped Mark’s hips hard enough to bruise.

He looked up at his lover’s face, and perhaps it was the jet-lag and the exhaustion, but he thought, Here is my everything. Here is the man I would give anything for. Here is my love.

Ben hadn’t felt this way about someone in a long time. He wasn’t sure he ever had, not with this degree of passion. He had never felt like he needed someone the way he needed Mark. He had never loved anyone else like this.

And he said, ‘God, you’re gorgeous, Mark, you feel so good, you’re like—’ and he couldn’t think what to compare him to, so instead he continued, ‘You’re perfect. You’re so perfect and so beautiful and, fuck, I love you!’

The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think, to even consider what saying them would mean, and just then Mark came with a cry, and Ben did as well, moments later, the pressure of Mark’s muscles closing around him too much to bear, and they collapsed in a tangle of limbs.

Mark pulled him into a fierce kiss. His eyelashes were moist against Ben’s cheek, and Ben put his arms around him, kissing him back with as much feeling as he could muster, until he realised that he was weeping from pure exhaustion, overwhelmed.

Then, when their lips broke contact, he said it again. ‘I love you, Mark.’

Mark uttered a breathless laugh. ‘Oh, sod it . . . I love you, too.’

* * *

The first time Ben woke up, the bed was empty aside from himself, but the pillow next to his was still warm and, satisfied that Mark was still around, Ben rolled over and fell asleep again.

The second time it was from the landline ringing noisily. Ben did not immediately open his eyes, however, and soon felt someone move next to him and lean across him, and heard Mark take the receiver from the night stand and say, ‘Hello? Oh, hi! Yes, but he’s sleeping. Jet-lagged, poor thing. Yeah, I’ll tell him.’

Ben stirred, opening his eyes slowly.

‘Oh, hang on, he’s awake.’ Mark took the receiver away from his ear and looked at Ben. ‘It’s your mum.’

Ben groaned and sat up, reaching for the receiver. Mark gave it to him and kissed him on the forehead before climbing out of bed. He was wearing very little, and Ben watched the sway of his hips appreciatively as he sauntered off to the bathroom.

He put the receiver to his ear. ‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Hello, love! How’s it feel to be back in the old country? Everything go well with the filming?’

‘Yes, it was good. Nice to be home, though.’

‘I can imagine.’ His mother paused for a moment. ‘So, was that him?’

Ben smiled. ‘Yes, that was Mark.’

‘He sounded nice.’

‘He is.’

‘Nothing to those rumours about Matilda Weber, then?’

‘Nothing whatsoever.’

‘Well, that’s all right, then. Are you happy?’

‘Very.’

‘Would you like to bring him over for dinner tomorrow night?’

Ben hesitated. ‘I . . . I’ll have to check with him first, but how’s a preliminary yes?’

‘I can live with that. Then, preliminarily, I’ll see you tomorrow. Ring us when you know.’

‘Will do.’

Ben got out of bed and followed Mark. He found him in the shower. Ridding himself of his pants, he slipped in behind him and wrapped his arms around him. Mark leaned back against him with a sigh.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ben softly.

‘What do you have to be sorry about?’

‘About leaving you alone for so long and . . .’ Ben trailed off. He was sorry that it had hurt Mark so much to have him gone, but he didn’t know how to say it without sounding condescending.

Mark, however, seemed to be reading his thoughts again. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve been depressed, you know. All in all, this was pretty minor. Back when I was at my worst . . . Well, I could spend weeks in my room, hardly talking to anyone, with barely enough energy to get out of bed. It’s not your fault that I don’t know how to deal with my shit more constructively.’

‘Well, I’m still sorry.’

‘I know.’ Mark lifted one of Ben’s hands to his lips and kissed it.

‘My parents want to have dinner tomorrow,’ Ben murmured in his ear. ‘With both of us.’

Mark turned to face him, one eyebrow raised in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. Also, I would like to take you out tonight.’

Mark’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. He blinked a few times. ‘. . . You really mean that?’

‘I really mean it.’ Ben pulled him closer, kissing the top of his head. ‘I’ve made a decision. I’m sick of skulking around like it’s something to be ashamed of. It isn’t. I’m in love with you. I’m running out of fucks to give about who knows it. So, let’s have dinner, at a restaurant, like normal people.’

Mark giggled. ‘When I first met you you would never have said “running out of fucks to give”. At this rate we’ll have you swearing like Malcolm fucking Tucker by the end of the year.’ He stood on tip-toe and delivered a chaste kiss to Ben’s lips. ‘I would love to have dinner with you.’

* * *

Everything came at a price, of course. It didn’t take long for the rumour mill to start churning once Ben had been seen in public with his mysterious friend once again. Ben forbade Harry from releasing a statement, holding fast to his principle that this was none of the press’s business, and that he and Mark should be left alone.

‘This is your decision, Ben,’ said Harry on the phone Monday morning as Ben was getting ready to leave for the first Hathaway read-through. ‘But if they don’t get the story from you, they’ll try to get it from somewhere else.’

‘And we’ll get them for libel if they do,’ said Ben. ‘None of the people close to Mark or me would turn on us like that, so anything they do come up with will be speculation or out-right fabrication. When they start lying about me, if they start lying about me, we’ll deal with it then. Until then, my personal life remains mine.’

He could hear Harry sigh on the other end.

‘Look, I know you think I’m naïve,’ said Ben softly.

‘You’re right, I do. Ben, you’ve been everyone’s favourite so far, never saying or doing anything controversial enough to upset anyone other than the hipsters of the blogosphere. The worst the mainstream media has been able to accuse you of is being a bit posh. But this is different. This is a hot topic right now. Hell, it’s always a hot topic, and people will ask questions, they’ll want answers, they’ll want to know your opinion on whole new issues now that you’ll be seen as a gay man. And I know you don’t see yourself that way, you don’t have to tell me again. It doesn’t matter how you see it. What matters is how the rest of the world does.’

‘And I would claim the opposite.’ Ben felt the heat rise in his voice and did nothing to suppress it. ‘I don’t care one bit about how the rest of the world sees me. As long as I still get work, I’m happy.’

‘All right. All right.’ Harry paused, and Ben could hear him rifling through some papers. ‘I’ve got you scheduled for Graham Norton for the Country Sunsets premiere. You know he’s going to ask.’

Ben released a heavy sigh. ‘I know. If he does . . . I’ll give him an honest answer, all right?’

‘Thank you. That’s all I ask.’

‘Oh, speaking of Country Sunsets,’ Ben glanced over at the bed where Mark lay half-awake, ‘I want to bring Mark as my date for the London premiere.’

‘I’m not so sure the studio’s gonna like that,’ said Harry. ‘Aren’t you worried it might overshadow the film?’

‘I’m giving the media a good month to get used to the idea,’ said Ben dismissively. ‘What more do they want?’

‘A statement.’

‘Piss off, Harry,’ said Ben fondly. ‘I have to go, or I’m going to be late. We can continue this discussion later.’

‘Fine, have it your way. Bye.’

Ben hung up and sat down on the side of the bed, running a hand through Mark’s (currently purple) hair.

‘You’re really taking me to a premiere?’ asked Mark, sleepily. He caught Ben’s hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles gently.

‘If you’d like to go.’ Ben smiled. ‘It’s a request, not a demand.’

‘I’d love to go. Why do you think I snuck into that party in the first place?’ Then he frowned. ‘Hey . . . The person whose party I crashed, will she be there?’

Ben laughed. ‘Very possibly. Don’t worry, she’s nice.’ He glanced at the alarm clock. ‘I really have to go . . . Will you be here tonight?’

‘If that’s okay with you, yeah.’

‘Good. We’ll have dinner.’

Mark grinned. ‘I’ll cook. You haven’t had my cooking yet. I’ll make Shepherd’s Pie.’

‘Can’t wait.’

The two of them had spent most of the past few days, since Ben’s return, indoors, mostly naked, aside from having gone out for dinner in the city twice, and to Stevenage once. Dinner with Ben’s parents had gone remarkably well. Mark had somehow managed to keep the coarser parts of his personality on the inside without in any way diminishing his unique Mark-ness. Ben’s parents had both seemed to genuinely like him, though Ben’s mother had pulled her son aside before they left to ask if Mark wasn’t a little bit young. To that Ben had responded that he probably was but that he didn’t care and repeated that he was happy.

While lacing on his shoes, Ben only hoped that Mark could deal as well with the media hell undoubtedly awaiting them in the coming month as he had done with meeting Ben’s mother and father.

* * *

Exactly three days, five hours and sixteen minutes had passed before Ben was given the opportunity to find out. Two texts arrived almost at once, and it was only by chance that Ben’s mobile happened to be on that afternoon, and that Ben happened to be at liberty to read the texts.

The first was from Mark and read, The shit’s hit the fan. Huge piece in The Sun.

The second came from Alice. We’ve got trouble. It’s The Sun again. Harry wants to talk to you. I’ll be outside.

He found her in the next room ten minutes later, with a paper cup from Nero’s in her hand, a copy of The Sun tucked under her arm and a grim expression on her face. She handed him the cup (Cappuccino, Demerara sugar) and they walked briskly towards the exit.

‘Harry’s set up an emergency meeting at Liam’s office in fifteen minutes,’ Alice told him. ‘You can read the article in the car.’

Ben nodded. He pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Mark. Have to go to a meeting with my team. Meet me at the flat later? I love you.

As they slid into the back of the car, Alice handed him the newspaper.

Kinks and commitment issues—Benny’s ex-lover tells all!

IN an exclusive scoop for The Sun, Benjamin Connor’s old boyfriend from uni reveals everything the actor refuses to tell us himself.

THERE has been much secrecy surrounding Benjamin Connor’s relationship with a certain individual. The 35-year-old superstar actor has yet to make any comment on the rumours put forth in the media, though he and the young man, identified by unnamed sources as one Mark Harrison, have been observed together on several occasions since Benny returned from filming in America last week.

Thanks to the tireless work of our research team, however, The Sun has been able to acquire a very lucrative source to Benjamin Connor’s past.

“He was properly wild in bed,” Jonathan Lambert (35) recalls. “Up for anything, especially after smoking a joint or doing a line. He had some pretty extreme fetishes. Handcuffs, strangulation . . . You name it.”

Jonathan Lambert met Benjamin Connor at the University of Oxford, where they were both studying English Language and Literature at Exeter. Connor never studied dramatic arts, but was part of a local amateur theatre group throughout his time at university. Lambert recalls attending several performances.

“Everyone who saw him act could tell that he was really talented. But whenever someone asked why he was studying English and not theatre, Ben would just laugh and say that acting was just a hobby. It never occurred to him, back then, that he might be able to make a living doing it.”

Connor and Lambert were involved for nearly a year before Connor broke it off in favour of a woman.

“He met some bird and just dumped me, quick as you like. Kept saying he wasn’t gay, it was just for a laugh, and he liked women, really. Haven’t spoken to him since. Guess he wasn’t as straight as he claimed, eh? Of course, he may have grown up, but his tastes clearly haven’t.”

Lambert admits that it was always his intention to get back in touch with his old boyfriend, but life would have it differently.

“I always thought the thing with the girl would be short-lived, and that soon I’d have him back in my bed again, but it didn’t quite turn out like that. I hope his new boyfriend is showing him as good a time as I would have, though I’m not sure that’s even possible.” Lambert grins mischievously—

Ben crumpled the tabloid in his hands. They had begun to shake already at the first paragraph. He clenched his jaw, trying to regain his composure. He wanted to shout, or punch someone. Instead he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Jonathan Lambert . . . That had been his name. Details had begun to surface while he read. Had they really been at it for close to a year? He supposed it could be true, but he knew they hadn’t done it nearly as frequently as Jonathan had made out in his interview.

It must have been nearly fifteen years since they had last seen one another. Ben dimly recalled a blond man, taller than he, with brown eyes and dimples. Ben had been under the impression that they had both simply been having a good time, though it was possible that Jonathan had felt more than he had.

‘Are you okay?’ Alice’s voice was soft, kind.

Ben shook his head and smiled. ‘Jonathan Lambert had better hope never to run into me because if he does I will fucking rip out his—’

‘If he does, you’ll smile and shake his hand and not cause a scandal,’ said Alice firmly and Ben turned his head to look at her. Her face was pure empathy, but her jaw was set and her eyes showed a look of determination. Ben sometimes forgot that his mild mannered PA could be this commanding. ‘Right?’ she prompted.

‘Right.’ Ben took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, gaze wandering out the window. ‘They know who Mark is.’

‘Yes.’

Ben clenched his fist. ‘They had better leave him alone.’

* * *

The meeting was a long and arduous affair, during which Liam and Harry argued back and forth over the best course of action while Ben tried to keep his composure.

‘Can’t you spin this? I mean, discredit the source somehow?’ asked Liam, running a hand through his greying hair.

‘I’m a publicist, Liam, not Alastair bloody Campbell. How do I discredit a source I know nothing about?’ Harry shot back.

‘How do you discredit a source that’s done nothing but tell the truth?’ said Ben quietly. ‘He may have embellished a bit, but he didn’t actually lie.’

‘The bits about the drugs are not going to fly well with some of the studios,’ said Liam.

Ben shook his head. ‘Who didn’t smoke the occasional spliff in their uni-days? We’re talking about things that happened fifteen years ago, here. And it’s nothing to the drugs about eighty percent of Hollywood is on, anyway.’ He turned his gaze on Harry. ‘I’m more worried about where they got Mark’s name from.’

Harry blew out a breath of air and sat back in his chair. His auburn hair was dishevelled and his tie was loose. He looked tired and haggard. He had not had a very good afternoon. ‘I don’t know. Unnamed sources are just that . . . It’s the one place The Sun has even a little bit of integrity.’

‘Why do they always have to develop integrity just when you don’t want them to?’ Ben rested his face in his hands. ‘I just want to have a normal relationship. Is that really so much to ask?’

‘Afraid so.’ Harry’s expression was pained. ‘You’re an international movie star, Ben. It’s the price of fame.’

‘Of course it is . . .’ Ben leaned back and rapped the table with his fingertips. ‘Look, I don’t care about me, and there’s not much to comment on in this interview. Jonathan told something akin to the truth, and there’s no point in getting hung up on the details of it. I’m not going to lie, so . . . Please, just protect Mark, if you can?’ He looked from Harry to Liam to Alice, a pleading look in his eyes. ‘He doesn’t deserve this shit.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Harry. ‘But I can’t promise anything.’

‘It’s all I ask.’ Ben stood up. ‘Is that all? As important as all this is . . . I really need to talk to Mark as well. He’s probably got questions.’

Liam nodded. ‘All right. Mike will take you home.’

‘Thank you.’

* * *

‘Mark?’ Ben tossed his keys on the table in the hall and began to unlace his shoes. ‘Are you here?’

There was no reply, so Ben headed for the bedroom.

He found Mark in the bed, curled up under the covers, asleep.

‘Hey.’ Ben sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Mark’s forehead. ‘Wake up, sleepyhead. I’m back.’

Mark stirred, turning over on his back, and opened his eyes slowly. ‘Hi,’ he murmured sleepily.

‘You okay? It’s only—’ Ben checked his watch, ‘—eight o’clock.’

‘Just got a bit sleepy.’ Mark sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘How did the meeting go?’

‘Absolute shit.’ Ben sighed. ‘I’m sorry to put you through this mess.’

Mark shrugged. ‘It’s not like I didn’t know this might be an issue from the beginning. It’s not your fault.’

‘No, but I still feel responsible.’ He glanced at his boyfriend. ‘I suppose I owe you some answers.’

‘I dunno about owe, but I do have questions.’

‘Then ask them.’

‘The article said you were with this guy for a year?’

‘A minor embellishment,’ said Ben. ‘It may have gone on for that long, but we didn’t do it very frequently.’

‘Did you do anything other than pot and cocaine?’

Ben shook his head. ‘No. And only a few times. Mostly only with him, I think . . . I’m fairly certain he was the one who was into that sort of thing to begin with.’

Mark nodded. ‘He said you were a notorious bottom?’

‘Did he? I didn’t make it to that part . . . Again, we didn’t do it as frequently as he made it out. I hardly even remember, but it’s possible that I bottomed a lot.’

‘Is that something you might want to do again?’

Ben gave it a moment’s thought. ’I think so. If you want to. I suppose I’m curious as to what it would be like, with you . . . in me.’

Mark took a deep breath. ‘All right. Just one more . . . Strangulation fetish?’

Ben looked away and blushed. ‘It’s not something I’ve done with anyone but him, really.’

‘Do you wanna try it with me?’

‘I . . . I suppose. Maybe? It hasn’t been a thing since. I mean, I’ve barely thought about it. But I wouldn’t be opposed to a little . . . experimentation. If you’re interested in that.’

Mark reached out and took Ben’s hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing his finger tips, one by one. Then he looked into Ben’s eyes, causing a very pleasant shiver to run up Ben’s spine. ‘I’ll do anything you want me to.’