Our House of Cards, Part 2
Posted on Mon Feb 26th, 2018 @ 11:58pm by Unawakened Devon Spencer
Edited on on Tue Feb 27th, 2018 @ 12:28am
Location: Williamsburg, Virginia
Timeline: Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Tags: Devon, Dev, Deo, Spencer, Bobbie, Mitchum
Previous: Paradise Lost and Found
NOTE: A Director's Cut of this scene is available from the author on request.
The door to room 23 C struck the wall with a bang as two young men fell back against it, kissing with utmost passion. Bobbie bore his massage kit in one hand and a pack slung over one shoulder. His free arm was slung around the waist of his shorter, more slender Greek lover. Deo carried a cooler full of booze and soda in one hand, another cooler packed with munchies in the other, and his “Eros” Worlds of Myth backpack slammed firmly against the door on his back.
Deo mumbled “rack-pack” between kisses. He tried again when Bobbie shot in to leave his mark on his throat. Deo whimpered in pleasure but the battering of his backpack kept jabbing him out of his reverie.
“Lap–” he shivered as Bobbie found “the” spot on his neck. “Top … lap … laptop, in my backpack!”
Bobbie drew back with a growl aching with sexual frustration. “Why did you bring it? You know we’re not going to have time!”
“Habit–eep?” He gasped as Bobbie returned to the spot that turned Deo’s knees to jello. He began to slide down the door and caught the doorknob. “In … now! We’re public!” He righted with a laugh and kicked the door shut behind them. They dropped kits, packs, and coolers where they stood and latched onto one another.
“God, you don’t know how much I want you,” Bobbie bit along his ear, making Deo rise up on his tippy toes with nearly overwhelming pleasure. “I don’t care what base we hit tonight. I want you!”
“Jesus!” Deo caught Bobbie’s head in his hands, peered into the fire in his lover’s eyes and kissed him with equal intensity. They fell back against the bathroom door, turned, bumped a desk, stumbled back, and fell onto the double bed. Deo immediately choked under Bobbie’s weight. He thrashed in panic, yanked into another cruel body memory, a flashback to when his father pinned him and beat him to within an inch of death.
“Deo!” Bobbie caught his lover’s flailing arms and pulled him upright to sit on the edge of the bed. “Breathe, baby, breathe for me.”
The artist sucked in a ragged breath and clung to Bobbie, his shivering having transformed instantly from a wanton desire to desperate shame. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Stop, it’s okay; it’s just a physical reaction like Diabetes, remember?” He caught Deo’s head and kissed him. “Relax, we’re here to have a good time.”
Deo nodded anxiously as Bobbie stood and put their things away. He dropped his kit into the chair and the cooler next to TV on the desk. He popped his kit and produced a pair of ampoules filled with clear fluid. He grinned at his lover, “Recognize this?”
“THC?” Deo perked up at his lover’s nod.
“A couple drops under the tongue and we’ll be flying without smoke or shitty roommates.” The green-eyed masseur waggled his eyebrows cutely and sat, “Open up.”
Deo opened his mouth and raised his tongue. “Oo-ghat gh-oes ick k-aste like?”
“You shouldn’t taste much of anything,” Bobbie pulled the eye dropper and deposited two full drops under Deo’s tongue. “There, tell me how it tastes.”
“Um…” the artist smacked his lips. “A little weird but not gross. I can make out a bit of an alcohol taste. How long before I feel the effects?”
“It should go straight into your bloodstream, so a minute, maybe three?” Bobbie dropped several beads of the precious drug under his tongue and set the ampoules back in his kit, smiling over his shoulder. “You might better strip while you’re still clear.”
“Okay!” Deo grinned and tugged off his hoodie, revealing a t-shirt that read “Muggle on the Streets, Wizard in the Sheets.”
“Dork,” Bobbie laughed.
“Huh?” Deo yanked his shirt over his head, revealing a surprisingly muscular chest for a dork. He read what got Bobbie smiling before he tossed it carelessly to the side, giggling, “Yeah, it seemed fitting for tonight.”
“So, whip out your wand, Mr. Wizard,” Bobbie smirked and looked down. Deo followed his gaze to his jeans.
“Oh, yeah, I should probably get out of these.”
“I think the THC has claimed its first victim.” Bobbie watched as Deo worked the buttons on his fly awkwardly.
“I’ve got it!” The artist slapped his hand away. “You just get busy–wait, no.” Deo tugged Bobbie over by his waistband. He grinned as he unzipped his lover, “I have a better idea.”
A few hours later Deo lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Bobbie rested his head on his shoulder, one leg hooked over his own possessively. His breath fanned warmly across Deo’s chest in the evenness of sleep. His arm tingled, nearly asleep from being pressed under Bobbie’s weight but Deo refused to disturb his lover yet.
His body felt heavy, like an indolent cat dozing in a sunny window. He had only felt so relaxed when deathly sick or those times when he was little when Mama held him. The warm press of her body, the smell of her shampoo and the brush of her curls against his cheek made the world feel safe again.
Liv said that anxiety sufferers like Deo produced less of a brain chemical, anandamide that allowed a person to relax. Low levels of anandamide led to an inability to let go of memories, especially trauma. Troubling memories ranging from his father beating him to fretting over setting his alarm played through his mind endlessly through the day. It formed a kind of white noise in his thoughts and he constantly feared getting distracted and forgetting something important. He likened it to those times when he babysat for his nephews. He watched them, constantly mindful that he might get distracted by something online and miss when one of them got hurt, so he never relaxed, even while they slept. Vigilance kept him from running around looking for his keys, his phone, his life but vigilance exacted a heavy price.
Constant vigilance was exhausting and eventually, Deo passed out, often when he least wanted, like nodding off in the break room at work. He slept only when his body demanded and often, before gaining any true rest, he started to instant wakefulness and took stock of what he missed while he was down and the cycle began anew.
THC brought Deo’s brain to a state where it functioned in a normal, healthy manner. He experienced a sense of euphoric peace free from racing, chaotic thoughts. He felt able to tell what was real and valid from fretful paranoia. His body relaxed and his emotions rested, enabling him to think and process clearly. He wanted to memorize this time because, at present, he could not savor this moment of peace without cost. THC or rather, the most abundant source of the chemical, cannabis, was currently illegal. Bobbie put his future and his career at grave risk so that his lover could savor this moment of feeling healthy and Deo loved him for it.
Love, the word normally led Deo into knots of uncertainty. It was perhaps the most foundational and important of emotions and yet he possessed no conscious understanding of love. Did he love Bobbie or was it gratitude? Did he love Bobbie or did he lust after the boy? Love or infatuation, Deo was at an age to know that he did not know enough about life and the world to make important decisions with any degree of confidence.
How did one build a healthy, stable relationship with another human being? Google offered a deluge of links that only led to more confusion and Deo’s parents provided an example of what to avoid. He thought about Chuck and Sandy Jones. They had grown old together and they seemed happy. Chuck always took Deo’s questions seriously. Might he be able to shed some insight on the situation? Deo did not understand love but he knew that he cared enough about his relationship with Bobbie to get answers. He resolved to talk with Chuck later and because he knew his scattered brain might grow distracted, he put a note on his phone and put a star on it to show it was important.
He placed the phone on the nightstand and lie back. He felt a comforting sense of purpose once he made his decision. He felt like he accomplished something meaningful and it led him back to a state of calm. Was this how his brain was supposed to work? Amazing, he never wanted to lose this moment however it was inevitable. That led Deo to the man beside him.
Deo scooted onto his side and brushed Bobbie’s hair back from his brow. He watched how his lover slept so peacefully, protecting Deo even now, shielding him with his body. It hit Devon then. They did not need “forever.” They did not need to answer the big questions between them right away. They decided that what they had was important. They chose to go forward in life together whether as friends or as lovers. They took the biggest step, the rest would take care of itself.
That realization led tears of relief to trickle past Deo’s lashes as he stared at his sleeping lover. They had everything they needed. Everything else came in time. Time worked against them in one critical respect, however. Eventually, the THC would pass through his system returning Deo to his shattered, anxious thoughts. This knowledge filled him with indescribable dread. His gut twisted in a moment of grief and determination.
“Bobbie,” he kissed his lover, repeating his name until green eyes opened with a start. Bobbie heard the grave tone of Deo’s voice, he saw the tears and sat up, instantly alert.
“Deo, what’s wrong?” He caressed his sweet artist’s cheek.
“I’m ready, Bobbie.” Deo gave him a watery smile. “I’m clear, I know what I want; I’m ready.”
“Ready–?” Bobbie shook his head at a loss until his eyes lit with instant understanding. He propped on one arm, “Deo, are you–”
“I’m sure,” he placed a finger on Bobbie’s lips, his smile brightening the room with his happiness. He pushed Bobbie onto his back and climbed to straddle his lap. They fit together key in lock exactly as he always dreamed. “I’ve never felt surer than I am right now. I want this. I want you, now, while I’m whole. While I’m clear.”
“Deo,” Bobbie drew him down into a strong embrace and they kissed, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Thank god, he meant it.
-To be continued-