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“Uhhh, okay. How old were you?”
“Nine.”
What the fuck, Levi mouthed. Did Ben know how fucked up that was, or was he a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” guy? Did Levi need to point out that his dad was a fucking asshole?
“I don’t know if I’d do that to someone,” Ben said suddenly. “Most people don’t have to see blood often. It’s not necessary.”
“No shit,” Levi said. He gnawed his lower lip, trying to find a casual way to express his condolences. Ben didn’t seem like the kind of guy who accepted those gracefully. “That’s fucked up of your dad.”
Ben grunted. It sounded like the closest thing to agreement Levi would get. Levi started to press his elbow harder against Ben’s, then remembered the rifle and stopped. Probably not a good idea to nudge the guy holding the gun.
“I would like to get better about it,” Levi admitted. “I’m not going to tour a slaughterhouse about it, but I would like not to have to leave the room when people get nosebleeds. You know? Makes me feel dumb.”
“Blood is blood,” Ben replied. Then, seemingly realizing how unclear he was being: “It’s not meant to be outside your body.”
“Yeah, and it’s fucking gross,” Levi said. But Ben had hit the nail on the head. Whenever he saw blood, it wasn’t the grossness that made his vision swim. It was the wrongness. It made Levi panic in ways he didn’t fully understand. Made his body shut down against his will. He wished he had some childhood trauma to blame it on. But there was nothing. He’d always been this way.
“The slaughterhouse wasn’t all bad,” Ben said. “I wouldn’t do it to anyone, but my dad did say some helpful shit. Every time I’d start to gag, he’d tell me it was okay, nothing to worry about, everything would be fine. Which wasn’t true for the pigs. But it was true for me. Every time I started to panic over blood, I reminded myself that it was okay. Even if it was bullshit.”
“So… you’re saying I should lie to myself?”
“If it works, it works,” Ben said simply.
Levi couldn’t decide if that was the best or worst advice he’d ever heard. But he appreciated the effort. He especially appreciated that Ben was telling him something vulnerable. Getting personal information out of Ben was like pulling teeth. The fact that Ben offered this up so easily in an attempt to help Levi overcome his baggage with blood was genuinely touching. If only Levi could get him to start talking about last night.
Ben moved suddenly. He was only adjusting the butt of the gun—ha, ha—against his face and crouching incrementally lower, but both movements were executed like a lion who had spotted its prey. Levi followed his gaze. Sure enough, a deer was ambling through the trees ahead. It was very cute. Levi winced and closed his eyes.
Ben tapped his knee. Levi opened his eyes and stifled a gasp. Ben was holding the rifle out to him.
“I said I’d teach you to shoot,” Ben whispered.
Levi glanced at the faraway deer. It hadn’t heard anything, munching happily on a bush.
“I’ll pull the trigger,” Ben continued. “You don’t have to look.”
Levi thought about backing out. But Ben was so close, and they’d shared such a nice moment. And he had asked Ben to teach him how to shoot, kind of. He’d mostly been joking when he asked Ben to show him how to handle his gun.
Levi took the rifle carefully, surprised by how heavy it was. Ben pressed up behind him, silent and solid. Levi shivered as Ben’s hot breath ghosted over his neck. Holy shit, this was hot. Was Ben flirting? Or was he just enthused about survival skills?
“Hold it up so the butt is against your cheek. Yeah, just like that. Don’t touch the trigger yet.” Ben was barely audible even though he was speaking directly into Levi’s ear, which only made the moment more intimate. “Not until you’re ready to shoot. Here’s the safety.” He guided Levi’s hand to a lever Levi hadn’t noticed and made Levi pull it back. It clicked softly. The deer still didn’t look up. Levi wanted it to run, but he also wanted Ben to keep holding him like this. The rifle felt uncomfortably good, especially with Ben’s hands covering his own. Levi’s cock hardened in his jeans as Ben guided him to the trigger. Oh, god, was he into guns?
“I won’t make you pull,” Ben whispered. “Just touch it.”
Just touch it. Levi had to bite his tongue from replying, Yes, Daddy. He touched the trigger, shocked at the power that surged through him. Then he looked up at the deer, and that power vanished in a rush. Nope! Levi Wayne is not a hunter!
“Good,” Ben said, and his soft, assured voice made Levi’s cock twitch against his zipper. “Okay,” Ben said. “You can give it back.”
Levi handed the rifle over, relieved and wanting. Ben took it, his hands still covering Levi’s. He didn’t let go. The moment stretched, their breath clouding white and heavy in the scant space between them.
Levi licked his lips. He wasn’t even doing it for show. His lips were getting chapped in the winter air. But he immediately wished he’d done it earlier. Ben’s intense gaze, which had been trained away from him since they walked out of the cabin, dropped to Levi’s mouth.
Fuck yes, Levi thought. He leaned in.
Ben went rigid. “Hey. Hey! We are holding a loaded gun,” he snapped.
Levi jerked back, mortified. Ahead of them, the deer took off, disappearing into the trees.
Ben watched it go, jaw clenched. “Shit. Look what you did.”