Hadrian's Lover

by Patricia-Marie Budd

  As soon as Frank walks into the living room, Devon begins admiring Frank’s physique. Frank has purposely left off his shirt, and he only begins zipping up his jeans after he enters the living room. Everything about him from tousled hair, to his bruised and sweaty chest, to being half-dressed has to suggest sex. Everyone must know—no believe—that what just happened really did happen. Todd is a confessed strai, but Frank means for everyone to understand that he is just confused! Still, this is not going to be easy. Todd is definitely not what everyone perceives to be Frank’s type. Frank only dates the more effeminate boys—boys he can easily manipulate—boys who like to pamper him and treat him like a god. That is definitely not Todd. Todd, like Frank, has the bearing of the alpha male—especially on the b-ball court. Unfortunately, Todd never dated anyone but Devon. And Devon certainly didn’t help matters when he announced that Todd’s exposure explains everything. He added even more damaging evidence when he said Todd never once initiated and was always the first to pull back from a kiss. That’s Todd’s biggest problem, Frank surmises. Everyone expects him to be the aggressor, but he has never once approached any boy on campus. Everyone now believes that if Devon hadn’t approached Todd, he never would have dated anyone. Some even say he used Devon to throw people off the scent of his being a strai. Even that Todd is the official star of the b-ball team holds no sway in his favor anymore, not after what Ms. Sterne said about sports and heterosexuals in class. Oddly enough, Frank muses over Todd’s position on the team. He should have been co-cap, not me, but Frank surmises that his being the taller and stronger got him the position. There is no doubt about it; Frank is definitely stronger than Todd, height and extra weight being his advantage. Thank Hadrian for that, Frank muses as he studies the raw skin of his knuckles. Licking off the blood, he remembers how hard Todd fought. It was not what Frank wanted, but Todd had to be subdued. It had to happen, he reminds himself again, though it feels more like a reprimand than justification.

  Roger smiles. He knew if anyone could tame a strai, it was Frank. “So you guys did it?” he asks half-expectant, half-hopeful. Roger likes Todd, seeing him as a part of their family. The last thing he wants is to see Todd sent away for reeducation. Frank grins slyly. He is wearing his “I just got laid look.” Devon is not falling for it, though. Todd’s exposure today redeems for him what he had seen as his own personal failure. Besides, Todd Middleton had kissed a girl, had straight sex with that girl—Ms. Sterne even implied rape. No, he says silently, Todd is straight, and as far as I’m concerned, there is no taming that kind of man. Besides, he reaffirms, if I couldn’t get him to do it, no one can! Turning to Roger, he laughs, “You don’t really believe they did it, do you?” Scorn ripples across his face. Looking back at Frank, he says, “You can’t possibly expect people to fall for this? No one is ever going to believe Middleton went down for you. He’s a strai—a fucking little cunt hammer. And, if what Ms. Sterne suggests is true—a rapist!”

  “Todd never raped anyone!”

  Ignoring Frank’s outburst, spitting out derision, Devon exclaims, “They ought to lock the cunt hammer away!” Amused by his own consideration, he adds, “Frankly, Frank, I don’t know why they don’t just castrate the bastard.”

  Roger, caving to Devon’s perspective, begins to worry. “Did it really happen?” His eyes squint as his shoulders shrug upwards in quandary.

  Frank grimaces; he had expected as much, which is why he had insisted on making it really happen, and not just be a pretend act like Todd had begged him. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Roger could at least back me, he thinks grimly. Crossing over to the couch, he sits next to Devon. The two men stare down until Devon looks away. Then Frank calls out, “Todd!” When there is no response, he looks toward the hallway leading to his bedroom. “Todd,” he says more urgently, a hint of anger in his voice, “get out here.” Devon and Roger stare expectantly at the hallway. A smothered cry emerges from Frank’s room. “Now, baby,” Frank states emphatically. “Your daddy’s calling, so come!” Another moan is emitted prior to the subtle sound of a door handle turning, followed by the slight creak of a door beginning to open. Frank offers up his grin to Devon and Roger. “Did you put on the clothes I bought you?” A stifled cry replies. “Come on, baby; I want to see you dressed nice.” The door closes with barely a sound. Devon and Roger look at each other curiously. “I’ve given him a new look,” Frank replies matter-of-factly.

  Actually, the impromptu shopping spree was in reaction to Ms. Sterne’s initial attack on Todd’s appearance. The whole time Frank was picking out clothes and throwing them Todd’s way, Todd kept throwing them back swearing, “There is no way I am ever going to wear these things!”

  Frank whirled on him, insisting, “We have to convince people you really are gay!” Frank won that war, too. “You are going to look like one of my boys and that’s that!” There was no more discussion to be had. Frank bought the clothes, and then, as soon as they got home, dragged Todd into his bedroom.

  Once again, Devon and Roger stare intently at the hallway, listening to the muffled sounds of shuffling from inside Frank’s bedroom. Soon enough, the sounds of a moving door handle followed by the opening of the door can be heard—a little less faint than last time. Good, he’s starting to accept, Frank muses. The shadow of a body walking tight against the wall appears. It is as if Todd is trying to push himself deep inside the wood in a desperate attempt to escape. Slowly, Todd comes out. He can’t enter the living room, though, and stays glued to the corner where the hall and the living room meet. The black velvet wallpaper, though elegant in design, feels repulsive against his skin. Frank has him wearing a tight short-sleeve hot pink T-shirt accenting Todd’s muscular torso. Frank wanted this effect. It would make Devon drool, and anyone who could make Devon hard was someone of whom he would approve. Todd’s sudden transformation into a meek demeanor is very erotic.

  “Wow,” Devon mutters appreciatively. “You can really make out his package in those jeans.” Todd’s hands instinctively drop down to hide himself. Frank also insisted Todd wear a pair of skin-tight jeans with stovepipe pant legs, unnecessarily held up with a hot pink belt to match the T-shirt. To ensure his dominance, the only way people would believe Todd tamed, Frank had also demanded Todd wear Teika’s dog collar made of thick purple leather with a huge ring for a leash. All of Frank’s boyfriends have worn this collar, even at school. It is like being given his ring or sweater, and it lets everyone else know he, Frank Hunter, is the sole proprietor of this boy.

  Frank leans back casually, opens his lap slightly, and pats his left knee. “Ignore him, Todd. Come to Daddy,” he invites seductively, patting his knee a second time. Every word, every action, every physical image must literally reek of sex if he is going to save his best friend. “Come on, Todd,” Frank urges. It is hard for Todd to move, but he manages to release his grip on the wall. Walking is uncomfortable as the tight jeans chafe against him.

  “Parade for us,” Devon taunts. “Get him to spin, Frank.” Devon is enjoying the show. Todd can’t even look up to beg Frank not to make him spin around. He just stops and shakes in the center of the room.

  “Shut up,” Frank orders Devon. “Don’t worry, baby,” he coos softly. “Just come to Daddy.” Todd slowly begins his death march. “There’s Daddy’s boy.” With Todd standing in front of him, still sheltering himself with his hands, Frank gently turns him around and then roughly pulls him down on his lap. Todd winces. They have to know he’s in pain, Frank reminds himself. “I must be cruel only to be kind,” as Shakespeare aptly put it. Frank hates treating Todd so roughly, but word has to get out that Todd has been tamed—that he is no longer straight—that Frank has made him one of them. Tears bloom in Todd’s eyes—tears he has been fighting back since he managed to stop the flow after what Frank did to him. Frank gently wipes the tears from Todd’s face, caressing the bruises and his cut, now swelling, lower lip. “Who’s your daddy?” Frank asks in a teasing manner. Frank is now caressing To
dd’s legs, squeezing them periodically, and allowing his fingers slowly to climb higher. One of Todd’s hands flaps like a bird with a broken wing in an attempt to arrest Frank’s movements. Frank grips Todd’s hand tightly in his, hard enough to indent Todd’s fingernails into his palm. Lowering his voice so only Todd can hear, Frank whispers, “Answer me.”

  Todd mumbles, “You.”

  Frank’s whisper becomes threatening, “Louder!”

  Obeying, Todd replies, “You, Frank!” a little too loudly, enough to cause raucous laughter from Devon and Roger.

  Even Frank joins in with a chuckle as he pats Todd’s head. “Good boy.” Frank kisses Todd as a reward.

  Sneering, Devon remains skeptical. “Listen, Frank; play this up all you want, but nobody’s going to believe you planked this cunt-hammer.”

  After glaring Devon’s way, Frank turns to look at him. Todd knows exactly what Frank is thinking: You have to kiss me. Leaning in to initiate Todd is startled when Frank stops him. “Ah, ah, ah, you didn’t ask.”

  A shudder precedes Todd’s request. “Frank, kiss me.”

  Slipping one finger into the collar ring, Frank tugs slightly, reminding Todd of his new place in the pecking order. “Say, Frank, may I kiss you, please.” Todd quakes. Unrelenting, Frank warns, “I won’t do it if you don’t beg,” pulling a little harder on the collar ring.

  “Frank,” says Todd. Although it is a low whisper, Frank knows Devon can still hear, “may I please kiss you.”

  Looking straight at Devon, Frank replies, “Of course you may, baby.” Turning back to look at Todd, Frank waits for him to initiate. When their lips unite Devon and Roger slap hands and clasp fingers.

  “By all that’s gay and glorious,” Devon chimes, “I think you’ve really done it.”

  Roger, congratulates his brother, “Good work, Frank!”

  “Now get the fuck out of here,” Frank orders before he kisses the top of Todd’s head. “My boy and I want a little alone time.”

  Devon and Roger leave quickly, but not before Devon can call out one last derogatory remark. “One minute a cunt hammer, and in the very next, Frank’s buggering board.” Chuckling, he adds as he exits, “Impressive.”

  “Devon, you can be so crude sometimes,” Roger says as he pulls his mate through the front door.

  Frank waits a few moments after the front door closes behind the two young men. Expecting Todd to dart away any moment, he wraps his legs and arms tightly around his friend. He wants so badly to cry, to beg forgiveness, but he knows he can’t. If he is to tame Todd successfully, he can’t back down. Not now. Not ever. Papa Dean taught him that. Frank explains, “We had to do it, Todd; you know that, don’t you?” His muscles begin to shake from holding Todd so tight. “You know that, right?”

  Todd gives Frank the answer he knows he wants to hear. “Yes, Frank.” Frank’s relief is audible in his sigh. No longer fearing Todd might try to escape, Frank loosens his grip. He does not release Todd, though, as the need to hold him close is too great. Although Frank tries to hold them back, tears begin to stream down his face. Todd doesn’t even notice; his eyes are glued shut by shame and exhaustion. “This isn’t how I imagined us.” Frank releases one arm to wipe the tears from his face. “I always knew it’d be you and me one day—but I was willing to wait, till you were ready. I didn’t want to—” He couldn’t say it. “I wanted you to want me, too.”

  “Why, Frank?” Todd’s voice is a shattered whisper. “Why did it have to happen?” It was a contemplative moment, solemn and sore with rage.

  “Papa Dean was a strai,” Frank says, looking down at Todd. “Did you know that?” He harrumphs. “My father tamed him—at a reeducation camp. Dad took a summer job there. That’s where he and Papa Dean met. Said he wanted to do something to help the nation—said he actually believed taming strais was essential for national security.” Frank shakes his head at the wonder of it. “Said he had actually fallen for that claptrap.” Resting his head in his free hand, Frank continues, “When I voc’d home, Papa Dean insisted I come straight home. When I got here, Dad was with him; he left work early because this was so important. The two of them sat me down and told me what reeducation camp is like—what had happened to Papa Dean—what will happen to you. They said we needed to make people believe we are a unit—a sexually active unit. That this was something we had to do.” Frank swallows his guilt. His fathers had only said to make people believe they are a unit; they never actually said to “do it.” But we had to, Frank reminds himself. Needing justification, he adds, This was the only way anyone would believe us. Openly sobbing now, he begs, “Believe me, Todd; it was better this way.”

  At this moment, Dean and Geoffrey return home. Because the entry hall opens into the living room, the first thing Dean sees is Todd sitting on Frank’s lap, wrapped in his arms, both boys sobbing. Instinct takes over and he rushes to them. “Frank, Todd, what happened?” Quickly taking in the bruises on both boys’ faces, he demands, “Hadrian’s lover, what happened?” Looking his husband’s way, he exclaims, “Geoffrey, they’ve been beaten!”

  Geoffrey moves into the room to stand behind Dean. Frank instantly begins to babble some story about strai bashing. Dean cringes as he listens to a gruesome tale about a gang of boys from school jumping Todd at Riverside Park and Frank leaping in to save him. Dean, kneeling in front of the boys, opens his arms to envelop Todd as he slides off Frank’s lap. Papa Dean cradles and rocks the boy like an infant. Geoffrey takes great care to observe the scene before him. Frank is shirtless. Todd is dressed like T’Neal—no, like the way Mike Fulton said he had been dressed that Sunday over three years ago when the boys had first experimented with sex. “Dean,” Geoffrey places a hand on his partner’s shoulder, “you take care of Todd. I’ll look after Frank.” Frank, Geoffrey also notes, is avoiding eye contact. “Frank,” says Geoffrey, his voice mimicking soft and soothing, but Frank can hear the edge of displeasure. The instant their eyes meet, Frank is conscious of his father’s awareness. His father, Frank rightly surmises, is not as easily overwhelmed by the current circumstances—empathetic, yes; fooled, no. Having borne witness to Dean’s suffering, seeing now Todd crumpled and broken, he wonders at the depth of emotions Dean and Todd are forced to endure. “Frank,” he repeats, “come with me.” As Geoffrey’s eyes brook no opposition, Frank rises and slowly follows his father down the hall and into his bedroom.

  After taking in the damage done—the bed curtains ripped off—one of the curtain cords tied to the front right poster—Geoffrey turns and confronts his son. “Tell me what really happened!”

  * * * * *

  Salve!

  Spotlight: Gideon Weller!

  HNN—Melissa Eagleton Reporting

  “Tonight’s episode is unique in that the guest I am interviewing is actually present with us on stage. It is with great pleasure that I introduce to my viewers the warden of the Northeast Reeducation Camp, Mr. Gideon Weller. Mr. Weller, thank you so much for taking time out of your rigorous schedule to speak with us tonight.”

  “Well, Ms. Eagleton—”

  “Please, call me Melissa.”

  “All right, Melissa. It is an honor for both myself and for the Northeast Camp that you have offered me this interview.”

  “First off, our viewers would like to know what it is you do at the reeducation camp.”

  “My job is quite hefty. I oversee all stages of each ward’s transition back into Hadrian society. When they first come to us, many are unruly, undisciplined, angry, and hurtful youth. It is the job of all who work at the reeducation camp from the warden all the way down to the janitorial staff to help encourage these boys to embrace Hadrian’s lifestyle.”

  “That must be a very daunting task if they come to you as unruly as you suggest.”

  “Indeed it is, and indeed they do. Remember, these are boys who believe they are heterosexual. Many are a two on the Kinsey scale, so we have to help them battle against and then vanquish the stronger heterosexual drive.
It is essential we cleanse them of their heterosexual tendencies before we can help them find their inner latent homosexuality.”

  “And how is that done?”

  “We have a very tight schedule by which the boys must abide. From the minute they wake to the very minute they return to their beds, they are kept active in sports, classes, private counseling sessions, and other activities deemed necessary for their reeducation.”

  “How long is their day?”

  “Our boys rise at six a.m. and bed down at nine p.m.”

  “Nine is a little early, don’t you think?”

  “Not after the rigorous day we put them through. By nine o’clock, many of our boys are so tired they collapse as soon as they sink into their mattresses.”

  “How long is your day?”