Decoding Desires Ch. 01
This is a BDSM-themed gay male story.
Penny****
*
"I met someone," Carrie tells me when I meet her for lunch. We're at a little cafe she likes that makes mini quiches and serves loose leaf tea in squat ceramic teapots.
"Hmm?" I ask, I hadn't been paying attention and was kind of feeling bad about it, but my mind was elsewhere.
"I met someone, like, you know." She raises one eyebrow. I liked her eyebrows, bushier than women usually kept them. Carrie was a tomboy like that. Down to earth. "I met a guy and, like, I dunno. He was cool, you know?"
"Where?" I ask, trying to pay attention, but it's hard.
"You'd like him," she announces instead of answering. Carrie and I shared the same womb, so it only makes sense that we also share the same taste in men. Which means whenever she meets someone she finds attractive, I know I'm going to be attracted to them, and she knows it, too. I hate when she does this, because I don't want to be jealous, but it's hard not to be sometimes.
"Fine," I grouch. "Whatever. Where did you meet this 'someone'?"
Her smile is huge, she knows she's getting to me. "Last week, remember I went to the free concert in the park? We bumped into each other, literally, and I dropped my drink. He bought me a new one even though I told him he didn't have to, cause, like, it was my fault, too, but he did anyway. He's so sweet, I dunno, we just got to talking."
I had to fight not to roll my eyes. It felt too cliche, intentional. Like, he probably did it on purpose to get her number. Carrie's naivete was reciprocal to her attractiveness. "I should've gone," I grumble.
"Why?" she asks, completely unaware of any potential stranger danger. If I didn't know her better I'd assume she liked playing with fire. "You don't like crowds. I wouldn't do that to you, Cody."
"Maybe you should, next time, I mean, I'd go, if you asked me to," I say, unable to let it go.
She scoffed. "You'd be miserable the whole time," she dismissed. "I'd never ask you to go, I love you too much."
I sniffed, a small smile on the corner of my lips. "I love you too, dweeb," I respond. "Still, you obviously can't be trusted to fend for yourself."
"I so totally can," she said, rolling her eyes.
I sniff again. "So then you aren't meeting up with him again?"
"I, ah..." She hides behind a more than generous sip.
"Carrie..."
She blushes, avoiding my eyes. "So, um, we decided to meet for dinner on Friday."
I sigh. She could be so gullible. "Cancel it."
"Cody!" she exclaims, hitting my arm playfully. "I'm a big girl, I'll be fine."
"You're going to dinner with some rando who spilled cola on you at a free concert at the park, Carrie," I say, giving her my strongest side-eye. She isn't phased at all, I can tell.
"Yup," she agrees, pouring a pale green tea into her antique teacup. "We're going to India Spice." She sips it, smiling coyly.
"Of course you are," I say, rolling my eyes as obnoxiously as I can. It's her favorite restaurant, and definitely one of the better vegetarian places in town. "I bet he's vegetarian, too."
She smiled, smug. "He is not," she states, proud of herself. "He is lactose intolerant, though."
"How the hell do you find out the most random things about people you've only just met," I ask, rolling my eyes as I sip at my iced tea.
"Because I'm charming and loveable," she declares. I can't help it, I chuckle. "Come on, Cody, everything is fine. I hate it when you get like this."
"Mmm-hmm," I agree without agreeing. "Well, I hope you enjoy a lovely evening with your new stalker."
"He's not like that," she chides, hitting my arm again. "He's sweet."
"Sure, sure," I agree, not even trying to hide my eyeroll this time. "I'm sure he's a regular prince charming."
"You shouldn't be so judgy," she scolds. "You'd like him."
She probably wasn't wrong, but I don't want to admit it. "You said that already."
She smiles at me, humoring me. "Yup. And, for the record, it's still true. I know you'll like him tons."
"Hard pass."
"Hard pass on what?" she replies, her lips pursed to the side to expose the dimple in her left cheek.
"I'm not going on a double date with you," I say, trying to be playful, but ending up hurting myself with my own words.
"I wasn't asking," she snaps back. "You'd be a third wheel anyway."
I hide a sigh. "Yeah," I agree. Another sigh, I can't hide this one, it sneaks out without my permission. I'm remembering Jace again, and goddammit, every time I thought I was over him his memory sprouts in my stomach and makes me sick all over again.
Jace. Beautiful Jace, funny Jace. Selfish, self-serving, cheating son of a bitch Jace. Mr. I might have chlamydia so you should go get yourself checked out Jace. Fucking Jace.
It must show on my face. "Oh, Cody, I didn't mean it like that," she says, apologizing with her face even though she doesn't actually say sorry. She never has to apologize to me for anything less than a first degree crime and she knows it.
"I know," I tell her. I do. She didn't make me think of him. Honestly he'd been skulking in the darkness around my thoughts for a few days now after a particularly weird dream I'd had about him. I snort, remembering him holding his rotting dick in his hands and asking me if I thought it looked infected. "I know."
"What's got your goat?" she asks, but I'm not ready to change the subject, and I don't want to talk about Jace. She's listened to me cry and rant over him too many times already. "Did he text you again?"
I shook my head, biting my cheek as I lied to her. He had this habit of texting me, really late at night or when he was drunk or high. It happened more than I'd like to admit, but I couldn't bring myself to block his number. I was an idiot, falling for the same ruse, making the same bad decision over and over again when it came to Jace, knowing he was never going to love me the way I still loved him. What a fucking idiot, though I'm not exactly sure if I mean him or me sometimes.
Jace is my bad decision bagel, and every chance I get I hide in my proverbial dark corner and eat just enough of it to make me sick.
"Don't you lie to me, Cody. I thought you'd made progress! What happened?"
"Fine, he did. You already know it, don't make me say it. He texted me, but I didn't respond..." She raised her eyebrow, catching me in a lie again. "Ah, more than twice."
"What the crap, Cody! You promised me you wouldn't talk to him anymore! You promised you'd block his number!"
I look down at the wood table, study the fancy doily that holds sugar and honey and salt and pepper. I can't stand the look on her face, I know too well what it looks like, her disappointment and concern. It just makes me feel worse. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to talking about her new festival boyfriend. "He's... I'm weak, and it was late, and I wasn't thinking straight, and-"
"Give me your phone," she demanded. She put her petite hand out, palm up. I noticed her nails were done, fierce daggers of pink tipped with black. "Now."
"Carrie," I whine. Still, I reach into my pocket and take out my phone. I can't deny her for some reason, she's always had this power over me, I can't deny her. She takes my phone from me and fumbles to turn on the screen, but I've changed my unlock pin. "Code, Cody."
I sigh, I'd secretly been hoping she'd let it go if she couldn't get in. "1130," I admit.
"Baby Jesus, Cody!" she admonishes. "His birthday?!"
I flush, studying the lacework of the off-white doily with undeserving intensity. "I mean..."
She sighs, and signs into my phone, then fiddles with it for a while. I eat the rest of my scone, covered in butter and jam before she hands it back. "No more," she tells me, catching my eyes and holding them. "Say it."
"I..."
"You memorized his freaking number, didn't you?" she asks, looking at me like a pitiful puppy in a box on the side of the road. I mean, I feel like that puppy at least.
"I mean, not really..." I knew it by heart. I'd know it in my sleep. I burned it into my brain. Did I mention I still loved that son of a bitch with all my heart? Fucking heart was defective, but I knew that already.
"Cody, You're too sweet for him. He cheated on you, what, three times? And you went back to him over and over. He gave you, you know. An STD."
"Shhh!" I hissed, leaning forward. "Can you just let it go? I shoulda never told you about it. I'm fine now."
"Doesn't mean his cheating ass didn't give it to you," she retorted. "You're thinking about going back to him again, aren't you?"
"No," I lie, taking a big old bite of my bad decision bagel. It doesn't taste good, but I just can't stop myself.
"Baby Jesus, Cody. I love you, you freaking idiot. Stop doing this to yourself, you deserve better."
I shrug. "I probably deserve it."
"Bullshit," she hisses. "Fine, whatever. I've blocked his number, I know you can undo it in a heartbeat but you shouldn't. I need to get back to work soon, and I can't even with you if you're gonna keep kicking yourself in the dick and then feeling sorry for yourself."
Oh Carrie. My sister was something else, and she was right, but I wouldn't admit it, not right now. "Fine," I snap. "See you later." I stand up and grab the bill before she can, then head to the counter to pay without looking back. Once the teenager behind the till returns my card to me I look back to find Carrie frowning at me with the same disapproving look our mother used to do when I was younger, back when she was alive.
She stands up and grabs her backpack, that look still branding my heart. It makes me feel like I've let her down. "Carrie," I entreat. "I'm sorry."
She rolls her eyes, making it dramatic enough her whole head rolls with them. "Sure, Cody. Whatever. You don't even know what you're sorry for. You need to put yourself out there, meet someone new. You need to get over Jace."
I know. I really do. But I can't. How do you start again? I can't figure it out. Why do I still love Jace? I don't know. He sure as hell doesn't deserve it. "Sure," I dismiss.
It was the wrong thing to say. She walks out and I follow her. The cashier-slash-waitress gives me a pitying look and I'm so done with everyone's pity it's making me sick. The air is hot outside and I slip on my sunglasses, then turn to Carrie, who's stopped to stare at me.
"Cody, you gotta stop doing this to yourself."
"I know."
"That's not good enough," she says, frowning all the way up to her eyebrows. "Anyway, don't call him, and don't take him back."
"I won't," I say, hoping it's not a lie. I really do.
"Promise me?"
"I promise," I agree, really, really hoping I can keep it. "Call me on Friday before and after your date. I'll kick his ass if I have to."
She smirked. "I'm sure it won't come to that," she dismisses. "Love you, Coco."
I can't help but smile at the nickname she had for me. It was embarrassing, and if anyone else called me that I would straight up kick them in the dick. "Love you, too, Sweet Caroline."
She rolls her eyes again, but the mood between us is restored. She waves, then heads down the sidewalk, returning to work. I turn the other way and head to my car.
Days passed and I think about Jace obsessively. Wondering if he was trying to call or text me. Fighting with myself to keep from just calling him. From unblocking his number.
I hated myself for loving him, hated him for tying my heart in knots. Loved him for all the good stuff, hated him for being him. The usual.
By Friday I'm done. So exhausted, emotionally, physically, in general with myself. To top it off I had a shitty day at work, too. Icing on the cake.
It was too much. I just gave up. I had put my phone in my bedroom, hiding from it, hiding it from me, but I couldn't anymore. After a short panic attack I picked up my phone, my heart still beating hard enough I could feel it in my head, could hear it like the ocean in a shell.
I had a missed message. I screwed up my password twice before I got in, that's how hard my hands were shaking, both terrified and longing for it to be from Jace, somehow magically getting around the block on my phone because that was how much he missed me.
It was Carrie. Shit, it was Friday, I'd forgotten about her date with Rando the stalker. Her text: 'We're going to the arcade, meet me there!' followed by a kissy face emoji, two heart emojis, and a video game controller emoji.
She was gonna go to a bar with Rando? Hell no, not on my watch. 'Be there in 10' I text back, knowing it will take me at least 20 minutes to get there.
She sends back a winky face emoji and a car emoji, which just makes me antsy. I don't bother to dress for the bar, I won't be there long. I forget my wallet and have to drive around the block to get it. I miss wearing a jacket, I never forget my wallet when I'm wearing a jacket.
It takes me twenty three minutes to get there, and every minute after ten makes me more and more tense. Carrie could be a wild child, could get out of hand and let go a little too much for my comfort, my complete opposite. I didn't want her to get hurt, I wanted at least one of us to be happy.
There was no place close to park to The Arcade, why would there be on a Friday night in a college town? Another four minutes to find a spot, and six more to walk. It was loud, I could hear We've Got it Going On by the Backstreet Boys clearly from outside. The sign on the door stated it was '90's night, because of course it was.
I get carded, then walk into a wall of noise. Pinball machines are dinging and clacking to my right, and a wall of people are lined up to play them. It's so crowded I immediately wish I could go back outside, but I had to find Carrie first. I scan the crowd, taking notice of all of the arcade games, the usual ones like Ms. Pacman and Streetfighter II, and some newer ones I didn't know, one that was in some type of Chinese or Japanese writing with generic versions of Streetfighter knock offs with more muscles than are actually in the human body, another called Birdie King II. At least, they hadn't been here the last time Jace and I...
I immediately drop that line of thought, scanning the crowd for Carrie. It was so crowded I wondered if I'd ever find her. Suddenly I'm surrounded by too many people. It's hard to breathe, and my head is too full to think. I feel my heart in my head again, another panic attack, but for a different reason.
I reel, pushing my way to the wall. Back to the wall, I slide down until I get to the small hallway to the bathrooms. A few impossible steps later I'm in the men's room. I can still hear the music, it's still loud, but it's bright, and it's calmer. Someone's in a stall, but other than that no one is here. I back up against the wall next to the Dyson hand blower, pressing my body against it as hard as I can, bracing myself like I'm holding up the whole building. I close my eyes and hold my breath, then blow it out hard and suck in way too much, until my belly hurts. It stinks in here, but I don't care right now. Rinse and repeat three more times, then I can finally open my eyes.
A new song started, blown in by the opening of the door. I'd probably missed one in the in-between of my panic attack. Wannabe by the Spice Girls. I looked up, still focusing on my breath to find one of the most beautiful men I'd ever seen eyeing me with concern. I probably still looked a little wild, I couldn't splash water on my face here, mostly because my head wouldn't fit in the Dyson hand slots and they didn't have paper towels.
I look away too quickly to play it off. "You okay, man?" Mr. Universe asks me.
"Fine," I grunt, shaking my head in a non-committal movement, then turn to the sink and splash water on my face anyway, that's how instantly flustered I am. It usually takes me a lot longer to let my claustrophobia get me this riled up, but all the Jace-torture I'd been putting myself through, combined with my shitty day at work had apparently destroyed all my filters.
His hand lands on my shoulder while my head is still in the bowl, stopping my heart for a second. "Too much to drink?"
I shake my head and my heart starts beating again once he lifts his hand away. "No, no," dismiss, pushing water off my face with my hands. It's not really effective, so I draw my shirt up and wipe, then instantly start my shame spiral as I realize what I'd done in front of the best looking man in the world. His chin could cut steel, I swear to god.
"Hey, you don't look so good, you need some water or something?" he asked, sending Cupid's sharpest arrow through my heart. I imagine it flying through the space where my heart would be, if I wasn't still fucked up over Jace, then tearing out my back. Weirdly, this visual in my head makes me feel a little better.
"Nah, no, I'm good, I'm better." I look at him in the mirror and regret it, he's so fucking beautiful that I can't even stand how many times I'm thinking it, like a broken record, but he is. "Thanks."
"Hey, I gotta piss, but stay right here, okay? I wanna make sure you get outta here okay," he says, his voice like melted chocolate in one of those decadent commercials.
I can't say no to him, I realize. It's no longer in my vocabulary. Something about him, like gravitational pull or inertia, I don't know what it is but I can't deny him. It scares me, but it excites me more. I nod my head like an idiot and he smiles. It locks my feet to the ground somehow, I can't escape. I need to escape, but I can't.
He heads to a urinal and I lock my eyes on my feet, not even giving myself the option of trying to watch. I hear him pissing, try not to listen, but I can't. I don't know when stall-guy left, but it's just us in here now. How can the bar be so full, but no dudes in the bathroom? He shakes a few times, then I hear his zipper.
I look up and meet his eyes in the mirror when he's washing his hands. He smiles at me, rewarding my obedience. I flush and look away, but it makes my heart hammer in my chest. "Thanks," he says when he turns the water off. The sound of the Dyson is way too loud in the small space as he stabs his hands between the blade of air a few times. "I wasn't sure you'd listen."
I shrug. "Wasn't quite ready to head out again anyway," I mumble.
"You ready now?" I nod. "Okay," he says, then his hand wraps around mine and tugs and I die, melting into the ground right there before he pulls me forward, bringing me back to life. God, I'm so dramatic I embarrass myself.
He pulls me out the door and into the too-warm, too-loud arcade space again. I can smell cheap beer like it's seeping out of the drywall and wood paneling, maybe it is. My hand slips from his and the volume increases exponentially, Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden. People talking too loud over it. Video game beeps and boops, fighting noises, clicking and clacking of pinball machines. Too many people too close, a guy on the way to the bathroom pushes me with his shoulder into the wall as he talks to someone behind him.
The smell is overwhelming, I can taste stale beer in the back of my throat, and for a third time today I'm having another panic attack, and I'm totally over having panic attacks today, but nobody, not even my own body, cares what I want. My lungs compress and air becomes impossible, I'm drowning and the lights are too bright, too flashy and the sounds and I can't.
I'm already turned around to head back to the bathroom when a hand that shouldn't feel familiar, yet feels like I've known it for years lands on my shoulder again. "Hey, it's okay," Mr. Universe, Mr. Steelchin, Mr. Perfect says loudly in my ear. He was so close, when did he get so close? "Shh..." He pulls me against his body and fuck me if it doesn't feel like the most perfect thing I've ever felt.r"
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