Chapter Fifteen

Theo

Hadn’t realized what a little perv I had created. Naked sparring? Don’t get me wrong, definitely went through my mind many times throughout my life. Adolescence especially. Why do you think I gave up competitions? The gi didn’t hide much and jocks only helped a little. I was happy that the alcohol and activities, followed by a hot shower and massage, had relaxed Robbie enough to get him to sleep.

I, on the other hand, lay there tangled with my snake-boi curled tight around me, wondering about many things. Someone once told me that people tell the truth when they’re angry or drunk. My father had told me many truths when he was too intoxicated to drive home and the local police had called me to come pick him from the bar where the bartender had confiscated his keys. I frowned with the memories and quickly shunted them aside to focus on Robbie’s requests. Topping me? And raw at that. The thought that those were Robbie’s unspoken desires rattled around in my head to the point of distraction. I wasn’t annoyed that he might want to, only that I hadn’t seen it. I thought I knew everything about Robbie. He was kind of an open book, and though he kept his thoughts to himself a lot, his face and body were so easy to read. The thought that I might have missed something so fundamental irked me. It also left me in my personal spiral of doubt.

We had had the condom talk a few months back when he’d walked in on me watching porn. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he had never seen porn before. Hell, he didn’t have real internet growing up—only access to educational tools. And it wasn’t like he was watching anything after he moved in. No time between class, studying, therapy, exercise, martial arts, and learning new and interesting recipes to keep me well fed. And it wasn’t that I had been jerking off to it, not that I would have had a problem with that. I had subscribed to a few channels of my favorite actors years before and was going through a backlog of emails that had been filtered into the archaically-named Pronz folder. In any case, I’d invited Robbie to watch, and that had lent to a particularly nice evening. But afterward he had commented that none of the actors had worn condoms. An astute observation for someone who had just been edged to the point of near tears. At the time he had taken the largest toy to date, possibly in an attempt to outdo one of the actors who in the vignette was “dildo testing” for the manufacturer. He had accepted that I don’t have sex without protection with anyone, and at the time hadn’t argued. I had even taken him to get tested shortly after, so he could see the need for it. I guess I’ve always kind of been prepping him for when he outgrows me, wanting him to know what he needs to in order to be safe out there.

I filed it all away as something I’d simply need to come out and ask about later. I ran my fingers across his smooth, ripped back. Yeah, I was going to miss him when he was gone. But for now, I got to enjoy what was close to the perfect guy in both body and spirit. I fell asleep reminding myself to enjoy the little things.

★

“Sugar, don’t you have finals?”

After our morning gymnastics and shower, we normally went to our respective corners—me to the living room to Interface, and Robbie to…well, wherever he went to. I had seen him in the bedroom sprawled across the bed, at the little desk he set up in the living room, lounging on the back porch, sometimes at the dining table, always working on homework or reading something in the news. This morning my olfactory led me to bacon, as it does, and I found Robbie in the midst of cooking up a storm. Mrs. Gomez gave me an eyebrow-arched nod that something was off as she peacefully washed a dish.

She and I exchanged quiet greetings as Robbie answered, “Not till tomorrow. And then a couple on Wednesday, Thursday, and then that presentation I need to do with Brent on Friday. But I texted him and told him that he should recover and I would do it by myself, and he said ‘okay.’”

I noted that Robbie delivered all of that in one breath as some kitchen gadget was used as a bludgeoning device against eggs that I’m sure hadn’t done anything to him. Leaning against the counter, I studied my handsome man who had a bit of a harried look to him. I always liked him unshaven, but today he seemed unkempt which was the opposite of how Robbie usually was—a byproduct of his crazy upbringing.

He was continuing at an almost manic frenzy. “I thought about calling Maggie maybe. Asking that she and Abi head to Calistoga today? They could take in the natural springs, maybe do some wineries.”

Oh man, my Robbie had worked himself up something fierce. He flashed a smile and poured the egg mixture split between two pans. After filling two glasses with OJ, I resumed my stance holding up the counter and watched. He glided around the kitchen with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Tension spread his T-shirt out across his ever-widening shoulders, and his usual flow with the spatula seemed stilted somehow. Mrs. Gomez pulled some bread out of the toaster, buttered it, and set it out on a plate before quietly taking off.

The tangy fruit juice coated my throat as I went over the events of the morning: woke to find Robbie sitting up in bed reading his Kindle; fucked him senseless; showered and made out; got dressed and left him in the bedroom; came downstairs; sorted email; bacon.

I wondered if there had been anything new or if he had just woken up ruminating on Brent again. I snagged a salty piece of heaven as he set them out on a paper towel to drain and waited until the omelets had been flipped before asking. “So…what’s up?”

He paused, his back turned to me. And I mean it was a solid beat of cessation of all movement. Then he asked over his shoulder, “What do you mean?” His voice was tight, though he tried to cover it with another fake smile when he glanced back.

“Uh-huh…” I came around the island and pulled him backward against me. “We gonna play that game?”

It took him a moment before the tension drained out of his back and he trembled a bit, surrendering his stress in a long exhale. “I’m just…not ready to learn about Commands. Just…not right now. I have finals this week and…” He shook his head, catching himself in excuses. As he turned in my embrace, he admitted, “I know I’m avoiding it, but…I could meet with her in a week.” His pleading statement ripped at me.

I cupped his face, enjoying the soft bristles that tickled across my thumb. “Sugar, you need to go and sit down and talk to her. This is you trying to run away, and I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Listen, you seemed a bit more confident after you finished talking with Maggie and George last night. Was it really seeing the Commands in action that destroyed all that?” I felt like such an ass having shown it to him that the tightness in my stomach almost put me off my bacon.

He melted into me and shook his head. “I had a dream of Edna.” The admission was muffled against my chest, but I didn’t move for fear of interrupting. “It was about the time she Commanded me to hang myself.”

The world stopped.

Had he just said…? I wanted to hold him. Kill her. Comfort him. Flay her! I wanted to know everything but didn’t want him to have to go through it again. The conflict raged within me as I continued to gently rub his back.

He shook his head as if by doing so the thoughts that had to be at the forefront would fly away, and he abruptly turned and busied himself at the stove again. “I’ll talk to Maggie,” he acquiesced, and the feeling of inadequacy that I was left with crushed me like nothing I had felt before.