Smoke and Mirrors

by Lillian T. MacGowan

  “I keep mine on the computer. Like a normal person.”

  Deck chuckled and kissed his neck. Liebgott cuddled Laura harder, and Jen giggled, got up, and started rifling through the box.

  “Jen!” Keller looked at her, startled.

  “What?”

  “You know what you wanna eat, baby?” Keller was easily the most cheerfully and proudly whipped man in the entire universe. Jen dragged the box to the couch and sat next to him.

  “Food. I don’t care. Naim, you order,” she answered, looking curiously at something called Dawson’s Crack.

  “Anybody else care? I know what to get you, love,” he murmured to Naim.

  Everybody mumbled, and he grabbed his phone and wallet off the counter.

  “Want me to look at your hand?” Jen asked absently, scanning the back cover of Lord of the Cock Rings. Keller threw him a pleading look.

  Naim shook his head and laughed silently. “Yeah. Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He gave Keller a you-owe-me look.

  “Let’s move this fucker now before you two get any more comfortable.” Keller stood, speaking to Liebgott. Liebgott gave Laura a pat on the hip, and she got up, headed for an open box, and started shoving more videos into the cabinet. They turned the mattress on its side and headed down the hall.

  It was late, the others had gone, and Naim sat on his—on their—couch, surrounded by piles of videos still waiting to be “categorized.” Because that was a thing. Deck came out of the bathroom carrying a pissed-off-looking Sue, who was trying to climb up his sweatshirt. “Okay now come on, buddy. We’re good. It’s okay,” he cooed at the cat, petting him gently and scratching his ears. He flopped down next to Naim.

  “Think he’ll let me pet him?”

  “Eh. Give it a try.”

  Naim reached out to Sue’s chin and gave it a nuzzle. “Poor guy. Don’t know what’s going on, do you?” Naim turned his head on the back of the couch and scooted closer to his boys. Sue lifted his head and flailed gently, giving Deck the cue to let him go. He promptly scrambled into Naim’s lap and started circling and purring.

  Deck scowled. “Little shit.”

  Naim chuckled, giving Sue’s butt a scratch. “He’s just sucking up to the alpha.”

  “Too many damn men in this house,” Deck grumbled. “Shoulda got a girl cat.” He directed his last comment at Sue, who ignored him and lifted his head under Naim’s hand, demanding to be petted harder.

  “Please, he’s just like you. I want this. Now,” he mocked gently.

  Deck cringed and shifted low on the couch, facing Naim. “You okay? With all this, I mean.”

  Naim sighed, and Deck grimaced. “I’m… Yeah. I’m okay.” He looked up at Deck and the worry and vulnerability in his face. Still petting Sue with one hand, he took Deck’s with the other and wound their fingers together. “It’s…” He sighed again. “It’s scary. And overwhelming.” He turned and watched Sue roll around on his lap, turn upside down and stretch on his back, belly exposed. He really was just like Deck. “But I love you, chèr. I know I don’t say it often, but I do.” He smiled at Sue, stretched out and drooped across his lap.

  “I know. I know you do. But I know this is a lot.” Deck looked at his hands. “I know I’m a lot.”

  Naim breathed out a small chuckle, petting the puffy, bunny-soft fur on Sue’s belly. Sue writhed. Yes, Deck certainly was a lot.

  Neither spoke for a minute.

  “Did I push? Is it too much? Because you can change your mind,” Deck said softly. “It’s okay. Because I told you I’d never ask you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with, but then maybe I don’t always pay attention.”

  Naim turned back to him and smiled. “I’ve not changed my mind. I don’t think that’s going to happen. This…this is good.” He bumped Deck’s nose with his.

  Deck closed his eyes, nodded, and smiled softly. “Yeah. It really is.” He felt Naim lean close and kiss him sweetly. He didn’t respond. He just smiled and let himself be kissed.

  Naim pulled back and turned to Sue again. “Frannie was funny about it.” Deck never asked Naim about Frannie or his time with her. He firmly believed that wasn’t his business, and if Naim wanted to share anything with him, he would. All he knew was that Naim usually came from his appointments a little more thoughtful and a little looser, and Deck was grateful.

  “How so?”

  “Well, she laughed at me, for one.”

  “She laughed at you? Are therapists supposed to do that?”

  Naim chuckled. “I don’t know. She’s a little bit different.”

  “So, why’d she laugh at you?” Deck reached out and petted Sue’s head absently.

  “Well, she said you must be a hypnotist or Charles Xavier or something.”

  “Your therapist is an X-Men fan?”

  “Is anyone not?”

  Deck thought for a second, then shrugged. “So why am I Professor X? With awesome hair.”

  Naim smiled again. “Well, the beginning ya know? Was such a nightmare for me. I didn’t know what I was doing, what I should do, what was right. I was scared more than… I was just a mess.” He snorted softly. “I think I put her through some misery as well as myself. She was pretty exasperated a lot of the time.”

  Deck shifted their fingers and ran a circle around Naim’s pulse with his thumb.

  “So yesterday I walk into her office, all, ‘I forgot to tell you Deck’s moving in. Tomorrow.’”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well, she asked me to tell her about it and how it all came up and everything. Then of course how I was feeling about it. Then she called me a butt.”

  “A butt? Like, ass butt?” Deck pulled back, eyebrows high.

  Naim snorted again. “Yup. A butt. Then of course we argued.” He made a face and nodded.

  “Why? Did she think it was a bad idea?” Deck tried not to panic, but his voice wavered.

  “No, nothing like that.” Naim stared blankly at Sue’s belly. “No, she just wanted to talk about how freaked out I was at first, and how I put myself through so much misery and fear, and it was for nothing. She’s always telling me I get myself all worked up about what’s going to happen before anything has even happened at all.”

  “And that’s how it was?”

  “Of course.” Naim gave him the eyebrow. “I was wreck. Every day. All the time.”

  Deck put his head on Naim’s shoulder, thoughtfully.

  “And now we’re here. And it’s a really big deal because I’ve gone from ‘no decent man could ever want anything to do with me’ to ‘I think we can make a life together.’ And with the most decent, best man I’ve ever known.” He paused, then cocked his head and squinted. “Faster than you have healed, in fact.”

  Deck grinned hugely. “So we’re both healing.” He kissed Naim’s neck.

  Naim smiled. “That’s really corny.” Sue finally flipped onto his stomach, shook, and jumped off Naim’s lap, sniffing at the furniture.

  “Yeah but it’s true, right?” Deck immediately grabbed the opportunity to take over Naim’s lap, and he stretched out, laid his head down, and looked up at the love of his life, his heart jumping a little. Just like it did every time he looked at Naim.

  “I guess. Maybe. It’s not like I’m cured, ya know?” He petted Deck’s head, and Deck frowned. “We talked about that yesterday. It’s the difference between trusting one person versus learning to trust. It’s still about how I see myself.”

  “Well, yeah, but…” Deck thought for a minute. “Has anyone ever judged you for your past? Like, who besides you has told you there’s something wrong with you?”

  Naim laughed. “Now you sound like her.”

  “No, I mean it. Jen obviously doesn’t. I don’t know who else knows but—”

  “She doesn’t know, Deck. No one knows.”

  Deck sat up, blinking and frowning. He thought for a minute. “No one? You never told Jen?”

  “Fuck no. You and Frannie. That’s it.
Jen knows about my parents, and how I ended up in France and all of that but…no. Nothing else.” He stopped himself. “Well, not exactly.”

  “What do you mean?” Deck was looking at the floor and thinking.

  “She knows. It’s strange. I know she knows about”—it always tasted bad to say—“about Claude. Not details or anything, just that there was…abuse.”

  “But you didn’t tell her?”

  Naim shifted awkwardly. It wasn’t his place to share what he also understood about Jen. “No. It’s just something we’ve sort of…talked around.”

  Deck shifted too and stared at Naim, trying to read his thoughts. “Talked around…what happened to you?” he asked.

  They looked at each other for a moment, assessing. “We’ve talked around…that sort of experience,” Naim finally said.

  “You know then. About her.”

  Naim sighed, “No. Not really.” He shook his head, still not sure what Deck knew and not willing to allow him to say more than was right. “It’s just something we see in each other. Sometimes it’s like looking in a mirror. I think more for her than me though.”

  Deck kissed his hand and scooted close again, throwing his legs across Naim’s. “I do know,” he told him. “She told me what happened, to her, I mean. And you’re stupid for not talking about it with her. Why wouldn’t you tell her everything else?”

  “Deck, it’s not that easy, is it? I don’t know what happened to her, and it doesn’t matter. We both know it’s there, and we understand each other. Isn’t that what’s important?”

  “Not really,” Deck told him, petting his head, and Naim sighed and his mouth tightened. “Look. Okay, yeah, you both know you both survived this…this fucking thing. But part of not being ashamed of surviving is talking about it, because it is part of you. It doesn’t define you, but it…whatdayacallit…it fucking…” He struggled and Naim twisted his mouth, unwilling to help. “It informs who you are,” Deck finally said, triumphantly.

  Stupid bloody insight into people. “Okay,” Naim snipped. “But I don’t think she ever took money—”

  “Knock that shit off.” Deck grunted.

  Naim’s mouth flattened into a stubborn line. Deck got off the couch, shoved a pile of Blu-Rays over, and knelt in front of him. “Naim. Love. I can’t tell you what happened to Jen. That’s not my place. But what you said about it not mattering is kinda true.” He took Naim’s hands and held them at Naim’s knees. “She’s your friend, and she loves you. Do you really fucking think that she would judge you? That she would think you’d done anything to be ashamed of?”

  “But why should I tell her? All of it, I mean? What difference does it make?”

  “I’m not saying you have to tell her. Just that…well…” Deck struggled again. He laid his head on Naim’s knees while he thought, and Naim couldn’t help but smile at the top of Deck’s messy, caramelly hair. Naim knew Deck wasn’t trying to annoy him, and if Deck could make sense out of what he couldn’t, well, then he’d listen. Stupid bloody insight into people.

  After a minute, Deck lifted his head. “You didn’t have to tell me about Étienne,” he said carefully. “I get why you told me everything else, even though it was an asshole reason.” Naim made a face at him. “But Étienne. Why tell me about him?”

  “I…” Naim sighed, hating this conversation. “I wanted you to know the kind of man I am.” He looked down, shamefaced. “I thought you should know what I did to him.” He couldn’t finish. It was easier to talk about whoring the streets of Marseille than it was to talk about Étienne.

  “So you do think I killed my brother.”

  Naim’s head snapped up and he was stunned. “The fuck?” His mouth hung open and he shoved down the urge to punch Deck.

  “It’s the same, Naim. It’s exactly the fucking same, and you know it.”

  Naim blinked, not willing to argue about that. “The fuck does that have to do with Jen?”

  “You only tell people things when you want to push them away. You tried to use what happened with Étienne to make me hate you, just as much as the rest of it. But fuck, Naim—”

  Naim looked away from him, his arms crossed, his body tight.

  “Naim.” Deck’s voice went hard, and he stopped until Naim turned back and looked at him, squinting in the struggle to do so. “I do think I killed Adam. That I’m responsible for his…for it.” His voice shook, but he kept talking. “And I know you think you may as well have killed Étienne. And we both think the other is a stupid asshole for thinking that way.”

  Naim’s eyes fell, and his expression softened and started to collapse.

  Deck slid his hands up the sides of Naim’s tense legs and held his hips, bending to kiss a knee through his jeans. “I can’t tell you what Jen survived. That’s not my right. But I know she knows something about guilt and shame and all that shit. No. She never took money. But she knows what the fuck it means to survive. To do whatever you have to do to stay alive.”

  Naim looked at him again, annoyed with himself for resenting that Deck was right.

  Deck spoke again. “If you think she would judge you, then you’re an asshole who doesn’t deserve her friendship.” Naim opened his mouth, ready to curse him out. “But you’re not. So just fucking tell her. Because she’s your friend.” He kissed Naim’s knee again. “And she loves you.” He kissed the other knee. “And you deserve more than just a big, dumb asshole like me to support you and be there for your shit, and tell you you’re an amazing fucking warrior of the fucking underworld.” He climbed into Naim’s lap, trying ridiculously to cuddle him like Sue.

  Naim slapped his butt hard. “You’re not dumb. Stop saying that,” he mumbled into Deck’s chest.

  “See.”

  Naim wrapped his arms around Deck, who was kissing his head. They sat for a minute while Naim thought, knowing Deck was right and trying to force himself to feel it. “You’re worse than Frannie,” he complained, turning his head, laying his cheek on Deck’s chest and immediately missing the scent of him in his face. “The fuck much do you charge?”

  “Nothing.” Deck grinned into his hair. “Just let me live in your house.”

  Naim smacked his butt again. “It’s our house.” He kissed Deck’s chest through the layers of his sweatshirt and T-shirt. “It’s ours now.”

  Deck’s grin grew bigger as he slid off Naim’s lap and lifted him over his right shoulder in a classic firefighter’s carry. Naim shouted, upside down as Deck strode with him to the bedroom.

  Naim woke, heavy and wanting. They lay on their sides, his face pressed into Deck’s chest, and he breathed deeply, smelling sleep and sweat and the scent of Deck that reminded him of warm tomato leaves and bourbon. Sunshine beamed off the snow that had fallen during the night, lighting the room, and his lover’s skin shone, buttery and unwashed since the previous morning. Watching Deck in the mornings, mussed and indolent and smelling like a man should smell, this was when Naim was most beguiled, and Deck was at his most unwittingly provocative.

  At first, Deck would shower before bed or after sex, before sleep, thinking that Naim’s elegance, as he continued to call it, was somehow sullied by his sweat and smell and oil, by the simple, natural state of his body at the end of a day. They were cuddled on the couch when Naim asked him about it. Amused and appalled by Deck’s embarrassed response, Naim promptly tore Deck’s jeans off, and buried his face in the fluffy dark brown curls between his legs, tasting the sharp, thick smell of his crotch and cock. Thoroughly unsatisfied, Naim shoved Deck’s legs up and rimmed him mercilessly until he sobbed and begged to be fucked long and hard. And so he did, leaving them both useless, gelatinous piles of flesh and Deck sore for days.

  Recalling the memory and wildly enticed by his sweet, sleeping love, Naim unraveled with need. Opening his mouth against Deck’s chest, he licked and tasted wet kisses across warm, fragrant skin and slowly ran his hand down along Deck’s ribs, over his hip to his thigh. He slipped his hand between Deck’s legs, where i
t was hot and damp and the hair of his thighs rubbed thick and rough. Naim felt him stir and sigh, and wordlessly, Deck turned to his back, arching and humming. Naim moved with him, straddling one long leg, and nuzzled his face against Deck’s fattening cock and into thick musty hair.

  “Can I ride you?” Deck’s voice gritted with sleep and the eroticism of Naim breathing him in so intimately.

  “Oh, fuck yes.” Naim smiled into his groin, and Deck laughed, husky and low.

  He grabbed Naim and flipped him onto his back smoothly, straddling him high on his hips and leaning over for deep, delicious kisses, chewing gently on his lips, breathing in his wet, warm mouth. Naim hummed and dragged his nails along Deck’s long, hard back and pushed his belly up against Deck’s already dripping cock.

  Deck growled low, sucking almost painfully on Naim’s bottom lip, and widened his legs, arching back. He reached behind him and pressed Naim’s cock to his cleft, holding it against and in the hot fold of his ass and sliding against it.

  Naim gasped, and his hips came up. He dug his fingers into Deck’s ass, pressing the flesh together, tightening the hold on his cock. They moved that way very slowly, thrusting and grinding against each other in an excruciating and leisurely act of foreplay. Deck lowered his head and licked at a dark, hardened nipple, nuzzling his nose in the soft, wispy hair on Naim’s chest. Behind him, he played with the head of Naim’s cock, squeezing and rubbing at the slit, and Naim dug his fingers harder, knowing he’d leave the marks that they both loved.

  Deck pulled up, sliding with sweat and dragging along the agonizing heat of solid, hot cock, then slid slowly back down, pressing his own beating, dripping erection against Naim’s firm stomach.

  “You’re a sick, cruel, horrible man,” Naim whimpered, arching.

  “I know.” Deck grinned into his neck. “I think you should punish me.”

  “Absolutely.” Naim arched more. “I can’t let you get away with this.” He turned his head and flicked his tongue at Deck’s ear, earning shivers, and sharp nipples rubbed against his chest. He moaned and laughed at the same time.