The Attraction Of David

Chapter 8

All I could manage was say ‘f*****g hell’ when I saw how awful the smear looked on my shoes, up to my jeans, since I had to walk a couple of minutes from the office building to the train terminal. Aside from the fact that the mud had dirtied my lower body, the violent rainfall was nonstop, the gale as strong as it was from last night. I had to pass through the same battle I have dealt with last evening, albeit, thankfully, with no weight in my back this time around. My umbrella was also at its wit’s end, which was not good. It looked like it would split before I even reached home.

In hindsight, the office hours weren’t so rough and it passed by like a breeze. But as I ascended the train’s platform, the realization came in; the commute I had to deal with would be dreadful. And when the time arrived wherein I got on the train, I couldn’t help but feel bad for the surrounding people. It seemed like everybody in the ride was as pissed as I was with the situation.

It looked like the rain would last for a few more days. Luckily, it was my last day of work for the week, and I’d get the chance to stay at home and luckily not endure the same predicament I was exposed to right now.

When I made it home, my mom and my brother were eating breakfast at the dinner table. Noticing how pristine the tiled floors were, I had to remove my shoes outside the house, along with the umbrella that had one of its stems broken due to how powerful the wind was. I looked like a mess with how wet and muddied I was

Mom stood up and ran towards me. “There’s a storm, good thing you always bring your umbrella with you,” she said, helping me raise the jacket, sullied by spatters of mud from behind. “You’re soaking wet, hand me your jacket and pull out your shirt.”

I turned around, taken both the jacket and shirt up my body, and with my back facing my mom, handed it to her. “Thanks, ma. I need a towel,” I requested.

Mom nodded and went upstairs, making me glance at Davion who was seated, sporting that roguish grin. The kind that looked like he had something to say that would surely wind me up. There was no such thing as ‘it’s too early to taunt my brother’ when it comes to him. He didn’t even care that I just got home from work and was wet all over.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. We weren’t even starting with our daily dose of piss David off, and I was already annoyed.

“It’s not like I have not yet seen what you were hiding. Remember last night?”

“What about last night?” I queried, appearing to get more annoyed. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Your insect bites,” he chuckled. “What kind of insect bit you? It looked disgusting.”

He knew damn well that they weren’t insect bites. “Bedbugs. You probably brought them to my room when you slept over. Regardless, it’s none of your business, and you’re pissing me off, you know.”

He laughed that derisive laugh, the kind that sounded like nails against a board. “I agree, you look like you’re so pissed off. Seems like the girls liked it, though. They were staring at you last night, they think you’re hot.”

“Jesus, can you not remind me of that thing, please...” I trailed off, noticing my brother walking towards me. “What now?”

“Damn, what the hell, David,” he said, inching forward, curiosity clear on his face. “This,” he traced my skin with a finger, “this is a bite mark,” he mumbled, revulsion laced in his tone.

This guy was my brother. He knew who I was, what I do, and we live on the same roof. Privacy was just a word to him, and personal space was nothing but a term. It was even to the degree that I already got used to it. But when he looked at that damn mark on my shoulder blade, I was unnerved. Oh god, I was very unsettled. I never felt such unease in my life, that I felt like my face reddened.

“Don’t f*****g tell mom or else.” What else could I even say?

Davion shook his head and turned around. “I think I lost my appetite. What a kinky bastard.” He sat down in front of the table, met my eyes, then glanced down at his food, keeping his chuckle in.

I didn’t know what made me ask him, “did it look bad?”. Maybe it was my coping mechanism doing its work.

“Not that much. It looked like it was almost fading away. Was it from last week?” he queried.

I just nodded at him. That week. A week full of s****l frustration, sadness, and boredom. Then that night arrived, and all of those emotions were quenched by something so inexplicably good, explosive even. It was... the best s*x I’ve ever had. I wanted to tell my brother more about it. I knew he would listen, maybe tease me a bit like he always did, cringe a bit, probably.

But when I peered at his face that almost looked like it was my reflection, minus the stubble, I realized it was best not to. It felt like he was the normal version of me. The edition of myself wherein all was typical. The ‘me’ who didn’t have to linger around a hook-up app. The ‘me’ who didn’t have to be so troubled with what he needed, who he preferred. Was I envious as I looked at him? No, I was happy. I was, honestly.

There was no point in telling him things that he better not hear. I knew he was a bright fellow, and I knew him, and mom, were the reasons why it was fine if I had to go through all these troubles. They’re always the reason why it was worth it to get tired at work, stressed at life, and sleepless most of the time.

The s*x was so good that my perspective of life had changed? Damn.

“Why were you looking at me like that?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nevermind, I just thought of something,” I answered, choosing to walk up the stairs into my room, seeing the droplets of water I have left behind. He glared at the mess on the once tidy floor, and all he could give was groan as I smirked, not waiting for my mom anymore, in worry that she might know the ‘insect bites’ I had on my skin.

“The hell, David!” he shouted downstairs, his turn to be exasperated.

I went into my room, flung my phone at the bed, and took my pants off, then my underwear, both drenched in water. I was so frazzled that I even said I was fine when mom knocked on my door from outside. I plopped down the soft bed, moaning in relief.

I peeked down at my chest. The hickeys were almost fading, and, surely; they looked like insect bites. As I traced my skin with a finger, I considered the two messages I was yet to open. I didn’t know if it was even worth it, but something in me demanded to know. It sounded silly, honestly. Why do I even care about him? It was just a stupid crush. Yes, he was gorgeous; I was attracted, and that should’ve ended there.

It should have been over, the minute we ended the s*x, the moment I took a step out of his door.

It was ordinary for a guy, especially me, to admire something that looked great. His looks were undeniably beguiling, and I knew my infatuation stemmed from this objectification that was running wild in my mind towards him. This feeling would come and go. It was just a gust that went by, nothing else.

Should I feel bad because I was sexualizing Stan? My brain answered yes. Did I hurt anyone from doing it? My conscience answered no. Then f**k overthinking and go with it. Besides, I was not even certain what his messages were for me to be so agitated. Hell, a week had already passed that I would be surprised if he would even recall. I knew better than having false expectations, I’ve been through a lot of rejection that bracing myself was not an issue anymore. Well, that was if he would remember.

Although, I wondered why I was so tensed as I unlocked my phone. And I didn’t understand why I was afraid when I’ve read the two messages he delivered to me.

“I had fun, and I wish you felt the same way as I did.”

“You have my number, call me if you want to, David.”

I was glad he had fun, and I indeed, heaven knows, had, too. It was fun. Calling him, though, that I was not so sure of. But as thoughts of him once again plagued my mind, recalling how his voice sounded like when I first spoke to him, when we talked on his bed, when he moaned my name, calling me David as our sweat-slicked body moved simultaneously, my uncertainty was in shambles. It felt so wrong, but it felt so right. God, it felt like it was the correct thing to do... s**t, what have I f*****g become?

I sighed and looked at on my phone, seeing his number on the list of the ones I previously called. I was just a single press away from hearing him one more time.

Fuck it, when in doubt, pound it out. I pounded a finger on the screen of my phone and dialed his number. The ringing reminded me of the time when I first called him. I was jittery back then, and I couldn’t help but feel the same way right now.

“Hello, David.”

I closed my eyes. When he pronounced my name, it felt as if the sound made my vision swam.

“Hi, Stan. I uhh, just want to check on you. I hope you are fine.” I was not sure what I would say. I didn’t want to sound tense. My heart was pounding madly in my chest that it made me cover my nakedness with the sheets. I felt so exposed.

“Thank you,” he chuckled. “How is it going?”

“I just got home from work. The rain was nonstop since last night, and I was so drenched when I got home.”

“You were drenched?” he asked, sounding so curious. Stan’s question made me think of how awful the weather had been since last night.

“Yes. I was wet when I got home and the umbrella I used got one of its stems broken, so yeah, that’s why.”

He chuckled again, that I had to think if there was something funny with what I said. "Maybe he was in a good mood," I thought to myself.

“Sorry, I just, uh, thought of something ridiculous, that’s why.”

“Ahh, and yeah, what have you thought about?” I asked, confused.

He sighed or kept his small laugh, I couldn’t distinctly identify. Who cares? I was speaking to him, and Lord, his voice was like a f*****g present for my ears.

“Nevermind, it was nothing. I just woke up, alone and sad, watching the rain from my bedroom window.”

Fuck my existence. Why did he have to mention those words to me? It sounded like, I didn’t f*****g know, that he needed me there? My heart raced, and my blood felt as if it all gone down to my hardening d**k. What would I even say? I was not even sure, but I knew I wanted to prolong the conversation, as I was not certain if this moment would flee anytime soon.

Still plopped down my bed, I peered at the window. “Me, too. And... I’m sorry, Stan. I realize I should’ve at least said something when I left.”

“Don’t think about it, all is fine,” he said. “May I know why you’ve called, David?”

I knew I have acknowledged that question earlier. I called to know if he was okay if he was doing well, and because I wanted to hear his voice, at least, just one more time. Maybe that will grant me the calm I needed, and maybe that would ultimately slake the infatuation I had.

Aware that this might be the last time I would even hear his voice, I braced myself. I got nothing to lose anyway, so it was much better if I would say what had been running in my mind for the past week.

“I called because... I can’t seem to get you off my mind. I know you might find this absurd, but all I could think of was you,” I declared, bothered by my own words.

“You mean to say... all you could think about is the s*x we had, perhaps?” Stan replied.

The words that he said to me felt like a punch in the gut. But I didn’t care.

“All I could think about is you, Lucas Stanley. It feels like I want to see you, know you better. It might have been the s*x, how wonderful it was... I am not sure. But I-“

“Do you want me, David?” he cut my words off, interjecting halfway through my statement.

“Yes. I want you.” I answered, like my mouth uttered the confession even before my brain had determined what I should have said.

"Infatuation can make you say things against your better judgement. You're... Infatuated, and I like that you are. I'm not complaining."

"I am, I know. But... I like you, what can I do? It's not like I can stop it."

“In what sense, David?” he asked, sounding puzzled, yet entertained.

As I imagined how his lips curled into that gorgeous smile, I also had wondered, yeah, in what sense? Was it the s*x? Was it his body? His captivating face? He knew I wanted those, and I was not so sure if he needed the feeling of being liked just because of it. Damn, this perfect man even got paid for those, so what precisely was the sense?

“I don’t know, I can’t figure out, honestly,” I responded. The sense of disappointment welled in my mind. “I just know that I kept on thinking about you, that’s it.”

“Have it crossed your mind that, maybe I was not worth thinking about? Would you still want me, or think about me, even though you know I get paid for s*x by men?”

Would I? Part of me said it was sickening. But, who was I to criticize, seeing that I was a part of that circle who sexualized him, used him like a piece of meat, and exploited the fact that he needed to do that in order to live? I was torn. God, it felt so bad right now when he questioned me.

“It didn’t cross my mind until you’ve mentioned.”

“I see. What do you assume would help you figure it out? You think another night in my bed would work?”

“I... don’t know, but I want to find out,” I answered. I couldn’t help myself from thinking if he was the one who’s supposed to be disgusted. “I mean, it was bad that I had to give that answer.”

He chuckled again. “Do you feel bad for me, or yourself?”

“For both of us. I’m sorry, Stan.”

“Okay, fair enough. You sounded so sad, David. Are you sad for me, or are you sad because I asked you those questions to make you feel bad?”

“I’m uncertain... okay, both.”

Stan laughed, and I had to sigh. He might have been enjoying the torment that I was feeling. I knew I deserved it. My dickpression made me do something so stupid, and here I was, bound and uncertain.

“That uncertainty of yours was so damn sexy, David. And wanting to figure it out with me is all it takes to make me hard. Do you know I am naked right now?”

Was this a part of his torment? Was Stanley goading me into having ill intentions to make me feel bad? It should’ve been that way, but the body, it really had the opposite reaction. I just hoped that whoever deity who had read the thoughts that ran in my mind when he said those words would forgive me.

“I am naked, too.”

“Why are you naked? Don’t tell me you’re jerking off as-“

“Of course not!” I cut him off, making him chuckle. “I told you I was wet. I just got home, and the rain soaked my clothes up.”

“Alright, alright, why are you being so defensive? I mean, I would appreciate it if you did that. It’s flattering.”

I waited for him to say something after that. He cleared his throat when no words came out of me. I was utterly taken aback by his sudden change of demeanor and false accusation.

“How about we meet up? Are you available?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered, looking out of the window and seeing the turmoil of the storm. “The weather’s still bad.”

“Yeah... but, hey, maybe that’s God’s way of making you think twice.”

“Should I think twice?” I asked him.

“Don’t ever think about having second thoughts, or else I would search for your place and drag you with me,” he teased. “Hey, everything is fine, alright? It was just a conversation we had to have, David. You’re only human. I’m only human. We do crazy stuff and say crazy s**t sometimes. Again, don’t feel bad, I am fine, you are fine, life goes on.”

“Alright, I won’t,” I answered.

“Again, no second thoughts, alright?” Stanley chuckled. “You know, I can still remember how good you smelled. I could still recall the scent you left when we had s*x in my bed last week.”

Was it even possible to not sexualize him if he ran his tongue like that?

Not knowing if I should devote my energy to maintaining my composure or holding the urge to touch myself under the sheets, I answered, “How do I smell like?”

He sighed. “Like an expensive vanilla meringue. Like buttercream.”

Spiraling down the uncontrollable temptation his words had brought, I curled my toes and bit my lip. It felt just like yesterday. Almost like the minty, manly scent of his was wafting in the room. God, it me giddy, high from the suddenness of the s****l tension.

“So you think I smell like pastries?” I mumbled, touching my hardness. I stared down at my lower half and saw the tent my erection had made. “Might be my shampoo and soap.”

“Did it turn you on?” he whispered. “Did it excite you?”

“Yes, it did,” I answered. “You did.”

He chortled. The sound he made was incredibly sexy and smug. The breath I took was sharp, the kind I hoped could ease the racing heartbeat inside my chest.

“I’m glad you called, David. I promise, I’ll help you find out. Let's see if we'll both have fun."

Fun. Was it really just fun that I wanted to search for in him? I didn't care, it didn't even matter. All I cared about were those little sighs and chortles as we talked more.

The rainfall, the worries and sadness I used to have, all of them were outside the bubble of comfort I had with Stan, and all of them were matters I decided not to consider.