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Paradise Lost and Found, Part 1

Posted on Mon Feb 19th, 2018 @ 2:39am by Unawakened Devon Spencer

Mission: Pre-Awakening
Location: Newport News, Virginia
Timeline: Monday, 15 March 2010
Tags: Devon, Dev, Deo, Spencer, Bobbie, Mitchum

Previous: Crash and Burnout

It’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all
The opposite of love’s indifference
So pay attention now
I’m standing on your porch screaming out
And I won’t leave until you come downstairs

– Lumineer, “Stubborn Love”

“Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.” – Lord Byron

Blue eyes popped open in the predawn light. A slow smile crept across Devon’s lips and he stretched, catlike. It felt good--he felt good! No more ravenous hunger clawing at his ribs. He still felt a little weakness in his limbs, but it was nothing a good run could not fix. He inhaled the fragrance of warm massage oil and turned his attention to the sleeping form next to him.

Bobbie lay on his side, his face cast in the pale glow of early morning. He looked so young, so innocent like this. He and Devon were young men, yes, but bitching aside, they only recently entered adulthood. They existed in that see-saw period when children struggled to become adults. That period when Devon realized that he never had it so good in high school. College, bills, demands, and responsibilities all weighed on him while the kid inside him pouted, cranky, desperate to have some fun. It had been a terrifying week for them all and this moment of feeling good struck him as a blessing. Devon wanted--he needed--to enjoy this moment. That led him back to the handsome youth lying so sweetly at his side.

Deo … Devon … he found he used the names interchangeably anymore, gently brushed errant waves of hair back from Bobbie’s face. Bobbie was blessed with good-looking everything but Deo especially liked his eyes and eyebrows. Even closed, Bobbie’s eyes revealed his warm soul. He might have seemed “too pretty” if not for the manly set of his eyebrows. They brought out the strength of Bobbie’s brow and framed his cheekbones in such a way that gave his jaw a sense of strength and character. This, but the softness of his lips betrayed an inner tenderness that Deo cherished. Strong and kind, that was Bobbie. He was also a man and like Harvey said, men had needs–especially a man like Bobbie. Deo frowned as his thoughts took a darker turn.

It was not fair to deny Bobbie. He showed endless patience and never complained, but Devon knew deep down that his love was only human. He and Deo were the same age and as much as romantics liked to say that love--real, honest, love was of the heart, the body was possessed of needs that could not long be denied. More, Devon did not want to deny them. In the crudest terms, Devon wanted Bobbie so badly it hurt and yet, when he dared--when he opened his soul and let Bobbie in--something in his brain took Devon back to that moment when his father sat straddling him on the floor in the boy’s locker room.

Steaming shower spray choked, bony knuckles drove hard against the face, and the heart hammered against its cage screaming in panic. Something about the prospect of sex yanked Devon’s mind back to that horrible moment when his father beat him to within an inch of his life. Was it the fact that Devon was naked in the shower at the time Greg attacked? Was it the fact that Greg sat in his lap, pinning Devon to the floor, open and vulnerable while he drove his fists into his child’s face? Was it the fact that Greg was a man? The only way to know for sure was to face the nightmare.

The solution seemed so simple and yet Deo could not bring himself to do it, not consciously. He could no more face that terror than he could willingly jab his hand into a fire. His brain locked up. It shut him down. It would not let him do what he needed to do and so here he lay, at an impasse. He loved Bobbie with all his heart. He desired his young lover in a way that defied decent thinking. He was ready, willing, and, yet unable. It drove Deo insane to think about it.

Laying naked against Bobbie now, with his desire most evident struck Deo as like a kind of self-inflicted torture and yet it sustained him. He possessed no clearer way to express to Bobbie exactly how much he loved and desired him. This, and yet Devon imagined it as like a small child reaching through metal bars to touch a lollipop. He could only lick his fingers and taste, but it was better than staring longingly. As long as he struggled, as long as Devon fought for what he wanted he knew deep down that somehow, in some way he would eventually prevail. How long might that take, though?

How long could he reasonably ask Bobbie to wait? When did hope turn into selfishness? When was it time to cut Bobbie loose to find happiness with someone who could give him what he needed? These thoughts weighed heavily and conspired to drag Devon down. He did not want to lose this moment of feeling good. The world took care of itself. He could only do his best. Right now his best involved teasing Bobbie with little kisses and probing fingers.

“Stop,” Bobbie grunted grumpily and turned his tender parts away from Devon. The artist would not be thwarted so easily, though. Devon blew softly against Bobbie’s ear and when that did not work, he used some of Bobbie’s hair to tickle it. A hand cupped protectively over the ear and a rumbling growl rewarded for his effort.

Devon stepped up his teasing with an ear-splitting grin. He ran his fingers along the ribs until he found just the right spot and dug in. Bobbie barked out in laughter and pushed Devon’s hand away. Devon pressed his advantage and tickled Bobbie’s belly.

“If you don’t stop, I’m retaliating--and we both know I’ll win,” he caught Deo’s hands and growled in a sexy sleep voice.

“I’m sorry, but the number you’ve reached no longer gives any fucks. If you feel you’ve reached this number in error, please call someone with fucks to give.” Devon cackled with glee.

“All right, but if you trigger it is your own damn fault!” Bobbie burst into action and proved immediately the value of a lifetime spent training for the Navy SEALs. He pinned Deo helplessly in seconds. Bedding and pillows flew in every direction as Deo kicked, howling in joyous laughter as his beloved tickled him. He begged for mercy inwardly long ago. He persisted out of sheer stubbornness and a desire to never see this moment with Bobbie end.

“SHIT!” One or both yelped as they tumbled naked out of bed and onto the floor. Thankfully, they were in the ground floor guest room now and only those out in the living room and kitchen stood any chance of hearing them carry on like a pair of kids.

Devon held Bobbie by the wrists, proving that he was much stronger than he looked. He grinned through his teeth at Bobbie, his chest heaving breathlessly, “It’s a tie, fucker!”

“Somebody feels better,” Bobbie laughed with relief.

“Yeah, I do!” Devon huffed. “Good enough to kick your ass!”

“In your dreams,” Bobbie snorted and then frowned. “I think we should stop.”

“What, why…?” Devon felt a tickle on his lip. He licked and tasted, “Is that … is that, blood?”

“Yeah,” he offered Deo a hand to his feet and passed the box of tissue. “You’re still anemic so you’re having nosebleeds. You shouldn’t push so soon even if you are feeling better,” He picked up some of the bedding and glared in reproach, his smile ruining it, “Hungry?”

“Yes, but nothing like I was. What we did last night worked–IT WORKED!” He launched into Bobbie’s arms, hooked his legs around his lover’s waist, and they both tumbled back, laughing into the bed. Once again, blankets flew crazily.

Devon kissed Bobbie long and deep, breaking with a grand smile and singing to the tune of a favorite Nine Inch Nails song. “You are the perfect drug … the perfect drug … the perfect drug.”

Bobbie beamed with happiness and no little relief. “Let a doctor decide that, okay? Let’s get you checked out.”

“Ugh, doctors!” Devon raised his hands imploringly. “I’m sick of doctors!”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual but let’s make sure you’re okay before we celebrate.” The green-eyed dancer smiled.

“Okay, as long as we get out of the house. I’m going stir crazy!”

-To be continued-


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