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“Yeah?” Levi waggled his nails, which were so purple they were almost black. “Thanks. Good thing that I had my nail polish in these bags and not the ones we left in the jet.”

“What did you want me to do, hire a trailer?”

“Maybe,” Levi said. “I’m a very famous guy if you didn’t know. I’m used to people doing whatever I say.”

“Is that right?” Ben took Levi’s ankle, stroking over the jutting bone. Dominic always talked about fattening Austen up, getting some meat over his underfed Hollywood muscles, and Ben had always rolled his eyes. Now he could see where Dominic was coming from. He wanted to feed Levi, too. Models never ate enough.

Levi hummed and took Ben’s hand off his ankle. He extended Ben’s fingers and met Ben’s eyes pointedly.

Ben scoffed. “Get that look off your face. The answer’s no.”

“Come onnnn.” Levi shuffled closer, propping his bony chin on Ben’s good shoulder. “Just this once. You’d look so hot. Imagine your hand around my throat, but your nails are done.”

The image was weirdly intriguing. Obviously, he balked at the idea of any grooming that wasn’t soap, shampoo, and a razor. But as soon as the discomfort settled in, he remembered all the gays he’d met, mostly in the BDSM community, rolling their eyes at his ingrained masculinity. What was that thing one of his subs always said when he first came out? If a bit of makeup is enough to shatter your precious manhood, then it was never that strong to begin with. Which Ben understood, conceptually. But he’d never bothered putting it into practice. It wasn’t like he was going out with nail polish on, anyway. This was just for Levi.

He held out his hand silently. Levi’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a smart comment as Ben expected. He just smiled and pulled Ben’s hand over his knee. “Hold still.”

Ben did. Levi went back into his terrible posture, his neck sticking out at painful angles as he painted Ben’s nails, slowly and carefully, with the ease of someone who had been doing this since he was a teenager. He stayed quiet, that tiny smile playing at his lips as he worked. Ben could never have imagined that smile a week ago, too blinded by the practiced smirks Levi kept flashing at him. This was a smile that Levi had never allowed in front of a camera. Ben was touched that Levi was letting him see it. People let you see all sorts of shit after a near-death experience. Ben wished it didn’t take such drastic measures, but at the same time, he was strangely glad for it. There was nothing like a little blood to bring someone closer.

Levi finished and capped the nail polish with a satisfying snick. “There. Beautiful.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ben said flatly.

“Seriously! You look hot.” Levi tucked his hand next to Ben’s, flaring his fingers. “And look, we match.”

Ben still wasn’t a fan of nail polish. But for some reason, he did like seeing them match like that. It felt like they were claiming each other.

“Keep your hands like that,” Levi warned him. “Don’t touch anything.”

Ben sat there awkwardly. “So, I just sit here until it’s finished? You do stuff when you’re waiting for it to dry.”

“Yeah, but I have practice.” Levi kissed Ben’s knuckle, causing warmth to spread into his veins and up into his heart. “Sure, you don’t want some eyeliner?”

Ben dug his elbow into Levi’s side. “Don’t push it.”

Levi rocked with the motion, giggling. Ben was liking the sight of him without makeup more and more. Levi was striking with the makeup, but there was something sweet about his bare face. Like the tiny smile from earlier. It meant he was letting Ben see him in a way not many got to.

They watched each other silently for a while longer. Levi dug his teeth into his lower lip, and Ben noticed it was puffy from Ben biting it before they fell asleep. A wave of heat passed through him, making his cock stir far too soon after their last round.

“Can I massage your knee?” Levi asked in a rush.

Ben blinked. It wasn’t the first time Levi asked. It wasn’t even the tenth. But for once, Ben pushed back on his first instinct to shut Levi down. Levi had let Ben see him with his guard down. Maybe Ben could do the same, even if the idea made his skin crawl. If Levi could suppress his blood phobia long enough to stitch Ben up, Ben could deal with the vulnerability of letting Levi touch his scarred knee.

“Fine,” Ben said. “But if you fuck it up, you’re paying the physio bill.”

Levi brightened. “Really?”

“Absolutely. You’re loaded.”

“I won’t fuck it up,” Levi said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve done massages before. They offered a day course when I was bored at a spa.”

He crawled down the bed and straddled Ben’s shin. Ben forced himself not to go stiff, like it did whenever anyone got close to touching that knee. It was thick with ropey scars from the shrapnel that had torn through it, fucking up the nerves and muscle. They had put it back together as much as they could, but they couldn’t work miracles.

Levi set his thumbs around the joint. Ben tensed involuntarily, but Levi only started rubbing tiny, light circles around the scarring.

“I bet you’ll be glad to get out of Alaska,” Levi said as he worked. “It’s so fucking cold here. Your knee’s used to LA weather.”

Ben grunted. Levi’s touch was getting firmer, but it was less painful than Ben expected. There was some discomfort, as there always was at the start of a massage. But it felt a lot like the ones his massage therapists gave him when his knee got bad enough to book a massage, discomfort slowly melting away into relief the way it never did when he tried fumbling his way through a massage. After a while, Ben stopped waiting for the pain. He sagged against the bed, letting his eyes drop closed.