Unleashing the Dragon

by Noah Harris

As Barry kissed and ran his hand across Xanathen’s head, he still had an annoying thought.

  Guy’s voice echoed in his mind: “You’re both in the wrong, yet you’re the one apologizing. You may’ve done some wrong but you don’t deserve to do all the work in this.”

  Barry pulled away from the embrace, straddling his lap and looking down at Xanathen lying comfortably across the couch. His gold eyes gazed out with some sort of expectancy, waiting for him to say or do something. Instead, Barry just sat on him in quiet hesitation.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just…thinking about something,” Barry tried to force the words out. He frustratedly searched for the right words, but found himself incapable of saying them. He continued to look into those golden eyes of Xanathen’s and melted. “I just think you’re getting a little close to the truth with the whole Dragon thing.”

  That wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, but those were the words that came out.

  “Like you need to have answers when people ask. Can you at least say it’s part of ‘dragon lore’ or something, or that it’s intentional?”

  “I…guess. I mean you’re not wrong. I just didn’t think people would want answers…You’re right, though.”

  Barry leaned over on top of him, laying his tight stomach against the rugged muscles of Xanathen’s and continued their kiss, all while the annoying nagging feeling continued to persist. The words continued to flow in his mind and crash against the banks of his skull, begging to be released. But those thoughts remained exactly where they were, in his head, straining to be let out.

  The taste of the wine lingered as he kissed Xanathen, reminding him of his afternoon spent wine tasting and of Guy. As Xanathen’s hands raced across his smooth body and sent his pulse racing with primal excitement, his mind would flip back every now and then to Guy’s mature smile. He thought of how comforting he was in that moment. A pang of guilt assaulted him, and he shook the thoughts away as he continued to grind against Xanathen’s beautiful, strong body.

  “Hey, come on in,”

  Guy’s tone was both enthusiastic and laid back at the same time as he stood behind the opened door. He seemed thrilled to have Barry come to visit yet still appeared mostly unfazed by it. His heavy eyelids hung low over his gray eyes giving him a sleepy expression but the smile on his face made it look all the more welcoming.

  Barry looked around in a state of awe even before he stepped into his home. Guy’s apartment complex was nothing like the ones he was used to. Everything was glossy and pristine. He was afraid just touching something would send it shattering into a million pieces. He could see his reflection in nearly everything he passed and even his sneakers made loud echoing footsteps.

  The walls, aside from being shiny and smooth were covered in painted canvases, framed in glass. The paintings varied from portraits of men and women dressed in clothes from centuries ago to sporadic splattering of various colors. The variety was wide and consisted of a multitude of styles, but the one thing they all had in common was the grating level of mediocrity. They were certainly not masterpieces to Barry’s eyes, but they made the walls more interesting as he waited for the elevator.

  Guy hung onto the door lazily with a half-awake smile. He wore a fluffy bathrobe with a clumsy knot tied tightly around the middle. Barry felt his stomach twist nervously as he stood outside the door, his eyes frozen on Guy.

  “Oh. Sorry, is it the robe?” Guy asked as he ran his hand through his thick hair. “Hold on.”

  Barry flinched as Guy untied his robe and pushed it to the floor. He could feel the color in his cheeks getting brighter as he turned away. His eyes glanced over curiously, followed by the rest of his head as he inspected Guy, who had been wearing a t-shirt and jeans under the robe.

  Barry nervously walked in, feeling the heat in his face. The twisting uncertainty in his stomach continued to knot itself and wring beads of sweat from his pores. As much as he had been looking forward to finally seeing Guy’s place, he felt a strange anxiety as well as the excitement. A tiny voice in his head regretted that Guy was strange enough to have clothes on under his robe.

  He shook his head dismissively and looked around. This was more than an apartment, but rather an entire penthouse. It seemed to be the size of a house, with walls that looked like they were made of glass draped in thick curtains.

  The walls exploded with numerous shelves, filled to the brim with all sorts of useless knick knacks of varying shapes and sizes. There was no real decorative theme to them other than whatever odd thing Guy found interesting. Small porcelain women with their glossy petticoats extended dainty hands out to wooden geese with faded bowties of paint while a cluster of music boxes were piled in a small pyramid nearby. There were at least several faded plastic trophies for different accomplishments: “Sexiest Gardener”, “Gilligan-Look-Alike 1968”, “Perfect Attendance”, “Tightest Tighten-Up”, “World’s Greatest Mom”; the rest were too faded or hidden behind piles of books and other pointless things, to be read.

  The floors, what could be seen of them, had piles of books and loose photos that fled from stray scrapbooks that claimed the ground. The heavy books were enough to trip over and Barry walked cautiously just in case.

  The other parts of the actual penthouse, aside from the clutter of musty old books, photos and random items, were decorated with sprawls of dark burgundy and bright oranges in looping paisley patterns. In addition to the random collection of stuff, the appliances seemed just as old fashioned. An old record player sat in the corner with several shelves of old records, while under several decorative glass bottles was a long bar. The bar itself had fallen victim to the expansive collection of books as well. Vintage clocks and wall décor clung to the walls, seeming to pray they wouldn’t fall into the hungry collection of paper piles on the floor.

  An easel with a blank canvas dominated one corner. An exercise bike stood off to one side, used as a rack for a suit and tie. A punching bag was strung festively with bright christmas lights. A keyboard sat behind the smooth leather couch; if it were to be turned on it would be in a constant disarray of chords due to several ship-in-a-bottles sitting on top of the keys.

  “Wow,” Barry said simply as he looked around.

  “Yeah, what can I say? I’m a sucker for the 70’s.” Guy shrugged casually as he made his way through the chaos to the bar.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you were a hoarder.”

  “I know, I know. I just can’t find it in me to get rid of any of it.”

  Barry continued to look around at the sprawling museum of miscellaneous things as Guy released all the tension in his body and flopped into a leather couch. He draped himself comfortably, framed by paper book covers. Though his eyes were closed, his body was arched and poised elegantly. His hair fell lazily over his face like it was trying to shield his eyes from the light and the overall effect was of some elegant prince who seemed to heap disdain on the idea of waking up at all.

  “How the hell do you have people over like this?” Barry glanced back as he investigated each curious object on display, while he ventured deeper into the hoard.

  “We don’t drink in here,” Guy said, his eyes still closed. “That’s what the patio’s for. Besides, there’s enough stuff in here to keep people entertained.”

  While Barry wanted to say something in response, he couldn’t. Guy certainly wasn’t wrong. At every turn and in every corner there was always something of interest to discover. He felt like the more he found the more he wanted to keep searching through the immense collection. Each hidden treasure just begged for more searching. Even if the treasure was in a sense completely worthless, just finding it was some sort of great reward in itself.

  Barry’s blue eyes darted back to Guy reclining lazily on the couch. He looked like he was about to nod off to sleep at any moment. Was he supposed to leave or wake him up? He felt himself wriggle with uncertainty as he stared.

  “Sorry. Migraine.” Guy said, brus
hing his hand lazily. “Mind if I take a quick nap?”

  “Did you want me to leave?”

  “You don’t have to. I just need like…an hour? I’ll be fine in a bit, I just really need to sleep this off. I swear. I’m sorry, I wasn’t planning this. Just make yourself at home.”

  Guy rolled over, turning his back to the light with his face hidden by the couch. Barry frowned sympathetically in his direction, wishing there was something he could do to help. If he insisted he just needed some sleep, he would let him. There was certainly enough to explore on his own.

  The walls stretched out in opposite directions, leading into more rooms beyond and tempting Barry to explore further. He nudged past the piles while looking at the shiny baubles that cluttered the space around him, until he finally trudged toward the hallway. As he went further the mess came to a sudden halt right at the beginning of the rectangular archway, leading to a perfectly clear hall and kitchen.

  The lack of clutter was in striking contrast to the rest of the apartment, at least those bits he had seen so far. Everything seemed to be organized to the letter, carefully put away with anticipation of being used again. Aside from the orderly manner of it, it really showed off the 70’s aesthetic. More browns and oranges tried their best to stand out as the garishly painted wood held etched glass panels in the kitchen cabinets. Tiles seemed to be at odds with wooden paneling on the cabinets and furniture.

  Of course there was a spiraling curl of metal jutting from the wall, clinging onto bottles of wine and glasses like an enormous, surreal grapevine. Across from that wall were glass sliding doors, letting in the glaring sunlight.

  I don’t know if I should be more surprised about this or not, Barry thought as he ventured out of the sliding door and onto the patio.

  The breeze at that high altitude wafted through his blond hair as he stepped outside, brushing his fingertips against the glossy table. The sea glistened in the sunlight away in the distance, occasionally flashing with a bright white light. Barry stood in awe at the magnificence of the view. The world seemed so small from where he stood.

  Near the table was a serene azure pool, surrounded by coloured, smooth rocks and exotic plants. It appeared like he was intent on making the outdoor patio, and his view of the outside world, as natural and alluring as possible. Just being there made Barry feel relaxed. He stripped off his shoes and socks, dipping his feet in the cool rushing water and letting his mind and his thoughts just flow.

  Reminds me of the island, he thought as he tilted his head back.

  His mind rushed back to the crashing waves on the pearly shores and the high home of Xanathen’s mountainside cave. It was chaotic and unkempt, but still it had a mysterious charm about it that made him feel relaxed and at home. There was so much to discover both here and on that island. Even the pools of water surrounded by the foliage took him back to the moonlit nights swimming in the island pools.

  He remembered how Xanathen’s muscles would glisten in the moonlight as the water dripped down his chest. He wondered if Guy swam much, or at all, at night. He pictured his lively brown hair drenched with water as he emerged from the pool, letting beads of water drip down his swimmer’s body. The coloring of the pool and the darkness of the night made it hard to tell if he wore anything in the pool or if he was carefree enough to let the water caress his naked body. Barry felt himself lean in closer to take a better look.

  He shook his head dismissively as he felt his face flush.

  He remembered looking out into the distance as he curled against the gigantic scaly body of Xanathen. The feeling of smooth, dark slate colored scales rubbing against his cheek sent chills down his spine and the image of his massive wings expanding out in flight made him feel liberated. It was almost the same feeling he got looking out over the edge of the railing and onto the city down below.

  He looked through the curtains on the glass windows at the sleeping figure. Could that man really have acquired all of this? Did he really have a taste for all of this?

  Maybe there was something more to him than he had at first thought. He must have been a deeper, more sentimental creature that was always filled with surprises. He was certainly giving Barry a bit of a shock. He must have some sort of know-how to have gathered all of this together. He had the charisma, but he always seemed to be staring off into a faraway place with a dreamy look. There was definitely something going on behind those glistening silver eyes of his.

  He fixed on the thought of the silvery eyes for a moment. He felt almost trapped in the man’s gaze, letting a tingling sensation run through his body. As he imagined Guy coming closer and closer, Barry’s body ignited in a blaze of excitement. That brown wavy hair of his flopped playfully with each step and tumbled boyishly in front of his face. His hands would be so smooth and tender, just the way they appeared to be. He could only imagine how exhilarating they would feel if they were to cup his face. If he were to draw him in, Barry felt it would be by some magnetic force.

  Barry’s body froze as he thought about it and shook the visual image out of his head. Playful daydream or not, he wasn’t going to let himself ogle another man.

  Through the glass panels he could see the bedroom. A colossal bed stood on a platform under bubbles of light. He slipped through the doors to get a better look. The barrage of oranges and browns had come to a halt, instead giving way to a soft gold theme. With the way the rest of the apartment was styled, he was amazed it wasn’t a waterbed. Instead, a tall pillar of bricks and glass stood in the middle of the room, filled with charred firewood. The room smelled dry and almost crisp; Barry felt his skin instantly dry as he stepped inside. It felt considerably warmer than the rest of Guy’s home, like a gentle hug.

  He looked at the wide, expansive bed that sat proudly over the rest of the room and he wondered how comfortable it would be. He felt pulled by unseen strings until he was drawn to the golden sheets of the bed and he sat down letting the comfortable mattress give way to his body. It felt soothing to the touch, sending the tingling sensation up his spine again as his body began to ache with carnal desire. He breathed heavily as he thought of Guy sleeping through the night on the spacious bed. He could picture him leaning in gently, leading Barry’s head to the pillows as his nimble hands would begin to strip away his clothes. His flesh ached with desire as he continued to picture Guy’s flesh pressed against his, his lips warmly sucking at his earlobe and blowing soft air against them as he would murmur seductively.

  Barry shot back up in a panic. He focused on anything else until at last he was presentable again.

  He walked to the door, stopping momentarily by the dresser as his curiosity at something he saw lured him in. Strange gold coins lay on top of the dresser, glinting in the dim rays of the sunlight. He picked them up and held them in his hands, turning them over and over. They were nothing like any coins he had ever seen before. Strange markings and scratches adorned the smooth gold. He shrugged awkwardly, he knew he wasn’t a historian, so maybe he just didn’t know enough about coins. As he looked at them though, they looked almost familiar. He remembered the claw marks etched into the mountainside back on Xanathen’s island. They looked almost identical.

  I’m seeing things, Barry thought.

  He placed them back down on the dresser, trying his best to make it look as if they were completely untouched. Even if he was invited to look around, he didn’t want to be caught snooping. Something about investigating Guy’s bedroom made him feel uneasy. Not out of fear or guilt, but just the looming pressure of his internal voice painting the loveliest of pictures. He feared losing Guy’s trust or possibly losing himself. With the etchings of the gold coins in his head he shut the bedroom door behind him and vowed not to tempt himself again.

  Guy continued to sleep on the couch as Barry fumbled his way through the sprawling collection that claimed most of the penthouse. Barry’s curiosity pulled him toward the piles of scrapbooks. He felt there was something charming about an old photo album. He wouldn’t want an
ywhere near as many as Guy had but he couldn’t deny there was a charm to generations of photos, memories even, being placed lovingly in a book and being handed down like that. He glanced back at Guy, nestled into the couch like a strange nocturnal bird surrounded by a nest of excess oddities.

  He’s only like ten years older than me, Barry thought as he looked over the pile of scrapbooks. Not sure why he’d have this many scrapbooks. Unless his parents documented every day of his life or something.

  Barry looked over at the scrapbooks with growing curiosity, pulling out the nearest one he placed it in his lap.

  Gray pictures filled the pages, all covered with a glossy film fixing them to the blackened backing pages. They were so crisp and brittle Barry had to take great care when looking through them. By the style of the clothes, the buildings, everything, Barry could tell they were far too old to be of Guy.

  The photos reminded Barry of looking through his grandparents’ old scrapbooks. As he inspected them he wouldn’t be surprised if they were from around the same time. The photos started on some tropical island with scores of young, fit men. Barry smirked a little as he browsed through. The pictures continued with some of the men posing with naval weaponry, flexing on camera and in general looking exactly like he’d picture a bunch of young men looking. The photos all seemed to have one man in common: short light hair and a fetching smile.