by K-lee Klein
“All the time, sir. But you have to admit you have a hankering for that certain variety of wood.”
“Are you taking me on a tour or seducing me in the middle of your sparkling kitchen?”
“Do the two have to be mutually exclusive?” When Scott glared good-naturedly at him, Devon pecked a hard kiss to his cheek. “Carrying on then. The appliances are the best money can buy and buffed to within an inch of their electric lives. They’re designed to immediately clear any fingerprints in case any crime techs happen to drop by for that purpose. What?” he asked when Scott flashed him a confused look. “Anyone who watches Law & Order knows you never leave prints at the scene of the crime.”
Scott shook his head. “Does that mean you—”
“Please sir. Stop interrupting,” Devon said, sounding very much like a flustered salesperson despite the glint of mischief in his gaze. He smoothed the bottom of his T-shirt and Scott was sure it was to maintain the allusion. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, appliances. Notice how they blend so well into the rest of the black accessories.” He paused in the middle of the kitchen, one index finger tapping his lip like he was actually considering his little spiel. “If you didn't look twice, you wouldn't even know there was a fridge and stove here at all. Don't you agree?”
“Anything you say, Mr. Real Estate Agent,” Scott remarked. He should've expected what came next.
“Real estate agent and customer, huh? Sounds like a hot roleplaying idea.” Devon smirked at him, glint of want in his dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow, but Scott cut him off with a poke to the belly.
“I suppose anything is possible but I'm still not having sex with you in your kitchen, Dev.”
Devon grinned crookedly, the little scar in the corner of his mouth quirking adorably. “But we've had sex in yours.” He shrugged. “Only seems fair.”
Scott shook his head. “Is the tour over now? Sounds like you need to get familiar with your shower. The cold setting.”
“Moving on then,” Devon said with a huff. He led Scott past the invisible appliances. “Now this is a very special feature. I give to you a…” He swung his arms to the side like some sexy magician, fingers wiggling and eyes wide. “Bathroom. And you might be asking yourself what's so special about it? Well, let me answer that immediately.”
With an epic eye roll, Scott mumbled under his breath. “Drama queen is too tame a description for you.”
Devon inhaled sharply, plastering a demented wide grin on his face. He didn't open the door though. “Ready? Okay…it has a toilet. But not just any toilet. A black toilet! And if you'd kindly recall our last room, it matches the invisible fridge, stove, countertops, and floors. How genius is that? It also has a sink. And not simply any sink. A goddamn black, matching sink. Can you even believe it?”
He finally pushed the door open for Scott to see that, yes indeed, it was a bathroom with black fixtures or appliances or whatever plumbing stuff was called. “Impressive,” he mocked while Devon's face cracked from its wide-eyed weirdness. “Is your magic room next?”
“Oh no, sir. You have to get the full tour. I'm not permitted to cut corners,” Devon said, falling back into character. “You don't want me to get fired, do you? I do have a hungry family to feed.”
Scott smirked. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
“Excellent!” Devon replied with the clap of his hands. “Please step this way now, sir.” He waggled his fingers at Scott who readily tucked them into his own.
They headed down an exquisite hallway of soft grey paint and dark hardwood. Cleverly placed art adorned the walls, but Devon rushed him past before he could get a good look. He was ushered into a room at the end of the hall.
“Next up, the guest room. As you can see it's tastefully decorated in some nauseating pastel rose that ensures its guest will have dreams of pistachio ice cream and sponge cake. And of course, no guest room would be complete without its own powder room. Toilet, big ass jetted tub, one of five in this overly-bathroomed home. Two sinks in fluffy-cloud-white, and one of those new-fangled rainbow showers that covers your naked ass with all the colors of the—come on, take a guess—all the colors of the rainbow. Bam!”
Devon was such a ham and Scott felt a sudden need to kiss him until he couldn't breathe, or preferably talk. He stepped into Devon's personal bubble for exactly that intention but was gently eased away.
“I’m sorry sir but don’t make me file a sexual harassment suit against you. Please allow me to continue the tour. You're not my only interested party after all.” Devon concluded his statement with a lusty wink and pursed lips, his expression over-the-top smug.
Scott poked Devon's rock-hard abs. “Interested party. Do you have another Valentine's date, Mr. DuCaine?”
A sweet-as-pie smile lit up Devon's face. “Naw. I was just trying to make a sale.” He pressed a hasty kiss to Scott's cheek before herding him out of the room. “Now if you'll please follow me. The most important room is next on my list.”
“I'm all aquiver,” Scott remarked cheekily. He received a glare from Devon for his troubles. “I'm sure it's truly magical.”
Devon tugged on Scott's hand, bumping his hip as he slipped past. “I'm pretty sure you'll never want to leave once you've experienced this particular brand of magic.”
They walked down a winding hallway before stopping at yet another closed door. “Is this the magic room?”
Devon dipped his head and Scott gave him a moment. “This is the lady of the house’s room. She picked it out herself but it’s not part of the tour yet.”
Scott swept gentle fingers over Devon’s neck. “I understand completely.”
“Further down the hall is Miss Maureen’s room so we’ll not invade her privacy either.” Devon cleared his throat, stepping back into character. “Never know what secrets are hiding in there. But I can assure, both rooms are as spectacular as the rest of the house.”
“As spectacular as the magic room?” Scott asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Of course not, sir. You will be truly amazed. Please come this way.”
Devon let him back to the kitchen then out the side door. They ended up in the garage. “Um,” Scott began but was a little breathless. Garage was a very general term since Devon’s garage was more like a showroom—clean, organized, and practically the size of Scott’s condo. “Are all these yours?” he asked, wide-eyed as he took in the sports’ cars, SUV, new and old trucks, and two shiny motorcycles.
“Yes sir,” Devon’s agent said. “And I have a special Valentines’ Day deal just for you.”
“Do tell.”
“You’ll get unlimited visitation of all these vehicles if you commit to purchasing this fabulous home today.” Devon looked excited, playing the part of a smarmy salesperson to a T.
Scott was positive real estate agents were simply classically trained used car salesmen and Devon was spot-on in his impression. “How generous,” he drawled. “This can’t be he main event though?”
Devon blew out a big breath, barrel chest heaving and cheeks hollowing with the effort. Scott needed to dig deeper into his acting background. “Of course not. I have to use discretion, Mr. Weston,” Devon said, eyeing him oddly. “The magic room isn’t for the faint of heart. Think you can handle it?”
“Or I could choose to use another agent in another available piece of real estate.”
“You wound me, sir.” Devon clutched his heart again. “Well played and you’ve convinced me that you’re the perfect candidate.”
“I’m touched.”
Devon clapped his hands together and straightened some invisible tie. “Hang onto your hat, sweetheart.”.
They crossed to another door, ordinary, non-descript, a little scuffed up compared to the sparkling doors inside the house. Devon tried for stoic, professional, but his face quickly cracked as he swung it open slowly. “Tada!”
Scott hadn't known what to expect, especially considering Devon's theatrics. But a rugged wooden staircase with brightly colored,
graffiti-covered walls was nowhere in the realm of possibilities. “You live over the garage.”
“Of course,” Devon said. “That’s where the magic happens.”
Shaking his head in judgment, Scott followed Devon up the steps where yet another door blocked their path to the supposed magic. Devon smirked at Scott then slowly turned the knob. The room was true to Devon’s description—spectacular, but in its own way. Scott wasn’t sure how magical it was, but it was all Devon.
The space wasn’t as tidy as the rest of the house, more well-lived-in, and obviously occupied and well-loved. It was another open plan with a leather couch and two recliners at one end and a bed the size of Canada at the other. A makeshift kitchen with a bar fridge, hot plate, and a shelving unit was tucked into one corner and the whole thing was a tad baffling.
“You have an entire house with everything you’ll ever need, yet you have this for…what?”
Devon spun in a slow circle. “I like my own space, and you know,” he said, his other persona falling away. “When mom was still with me, it gave her the privacy she needed too. The guys use this as another part of our clubhouse when we don’t need to spread out on the dining room table. They all have a key and don’t even have to go through the house to get in. Guess you could say its Smokey’s mancave.”
“That’s sweet and very cool, Dev,” Scott replied. And it explained the haphazard scattering of notebooks and pens, magazines and books, soft blankets and damp towels. There was also a bathroom to the left of the bed and Scott wondered if the shower sprayed rainbow water too. He’d have to ask the real estate agent if he happened to reappear.
Scott sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, fingering the blue plaid comforter bunched at the bottom. The sheets were navy, and the leather and metal headboard was absolutely gorgeous. Scott was green with jealousy. “This bed is incredible, Dev. Where did you get it?”
“Beth made it. Well the headboard at least,” Devon told him, moving to sit at his side. He slumped then fell backwards onto the mattress, splaying like some sexy starfish on top of the covers. Obviously, the aquarium had had some effect on Scott since he was thinking in terms of fish. “She was so talented. Someday I’ll take you to their house and you can see all the stuff she refurbished and made from scratch.”
“You’d do that?” Scott asked incredulously. He peered down at Devon until he was yanked and manhandled alongside him. The bed was like lying on a cloud—a cloud strongly covered in Devon’s scent. Scott could definitely nap here but he felt like Devon needed him to say something supportive. He felt like he knew Beth a little bit through Devon’s musings and the wonderful legacy she seemed to have left behind. It was such a tragedy. “I’m really sorry about Beth. I wish I’d known her.”
Devon sighed, his eyes slipping closed. “She would’ve taken you under her wing. You would’ve been like two peas in a pod. I can picture the two of you getting into a lot of mischief too. Shadow and I would’ve been terrified with the possibilities.” He paused, another sigh shaking his chest. “You know that saying? Um, taken too soon? Beth really was. Her life was so precious, and she had so much more to give. It’s so fucking unfair.”
“I know.” Scott rolled toward him, hefting one leg so it lay heavily on top of Devon’s thigh. “But like you said, she left a wonderful legacy.”
“And a ton of good memories too,” Devon agreed before a far-off look took over his face. “Sometimes I picture her up there in the clouds. My mom showing her around, introducing her. It feels a little better when I think that way.”
“Is that a religious thing?” It was a fair question since Scott had grown up in an atheist household.
Devon shook his head, his chin bumping against Scott’s forehead where he’d tucked it tight against his chest. “Naw. Mom kept some of her religious values. She grew up very encased in the church, but it fell mostly away when she moved to the States. I think I can picture her and Beth as angels whether I believe in some higher power or not.”
“You have to do you, right?”
They lay in silence for minutes, Scott simply enjoying the thud of Devon’s heart under his ear, the warmth of their bodies mingling and mixing. He’d never felt so relaxed, so boneless and peaceful anywhere but in his own place.
“Hey,” Devon purred into Scott’s ear. “How about that nap? You okay sleeping like this or on the pillows like normal people?”
A snort escaped Scott’s lips when he pushed up to look at Devon. “I can’t imagine anyone mistaking you for normal.”
“I resemble that remark,” Devon said, fake indignation failing greatly. “But I’ll bow to your decision.”
Admitting how much being in the real world exhausted him, wasn’t a normal thing for Scott. He supposed he could get used to being around people, making friends even, but he’d always been more of an introvert with only barebones extroverted qualities. It wasn’t like he’d purposely never made friends because being in his own company was easier. He usually stuck close to his comfort zone, plastered to it if he was honest with himself. But Devon had blown that all to hell. He squinted when Devon eyed him. “You do look a little tired, DuCaine.” He smiled to himself. Why admit his fallacies when he could blame it all on Devon?
Devon didn't waste any time in snagging Scott around the waist. He managed to drag Scott to the head of the bed, both breathlessly giggling. There was actual giggling. Never in his life had he imagined such a thing happening to him, such love and support in his life. Scott felt like he had the world on a string and Devon was holding the other end.
After settling his head on the overindulgent pillow, Devon tugged Scott into his arms. He went willingly, happily, his reward being a Devon DuCaine kiss on the forehead.
“This okay?” Devon asked. When Scott nodded, he continued, his breath washing hot over Scott’s hair. “So whatcha think of my mancave?”
Scott had no idea what a mancave was supposed to look like, but he did appreciate the space. He liked the dark grey walls and similarly matched cork flooring. The chairs and couch looked comfy, and the casualness of clothes draped over furniture, and even the worn hubcap hanging over the bed made it feel homey. Navy, shag area rugs scattered around the room added to the aesthetic, and despite Devon calling the space his bedroom, it was more of a cozy studio apartment.
He’d be the first to admit that the wall of electronics mostly consisting of varying sizes of television screens totally confused him. But rather than simply speculating in his head, he asked.
“Is there a story behind all the TVs? Are you some kind of weird collector, or a spy, or just spend way too much time glued to the tube?”
Devon guffawed, breaths huffing against Scott's head again. “When my mom got sick, well—she was amazing, you know? You would've loved her, and her you. She never complained or got into the whole why me state of mind. She was vibrant and active as long as she could be, but when she ran out of steam and the chemo started ravaging her body and taking her strength, we’d sit in here for hours. Watching television, drinking herbal tea, and eating scones from her favorite bakery. We didn’t care what was on and we'd watch different shows at the same time with the close captioning thing. Near the end she'd nap more than watch, but I stayed with her. She decorated her own room but near the end she said it was depressing and being in my room made her feel closer to me. I would’ve done anything and everything to make her comfortable and happy.”
“You're a good son.”
“She was a good mom,” Devon said. He shifted so he was flat on his back, one arm extended. Scott accepted the silent invitation, moving further up the bed and cuddling closer to Devon. “You know what I wish?”
Scott tapped Devon’s chin. “Something about your mom?”
“No. I did all my wishing and carrying on when she was dying. But I do wish…damn this is going to sound sappier than hell.” Devon hesitated. “I wish, ha…I wish I’d been a little more romantic when I told you.”
Scott twisted to see De
von’s face. “Told me what?”
Devon looked flushed. Scott didn’t know if it was the temperature of the room or his own emotions, but his eyebrows were drawn down in consternation. “That I’ve been in love with you for a while. I didn’t want to tell you that the way I did.”
Scott squeezed Devon's waist. “Do you remember the first time?”
Devon was quiet for a moment, then, “Of course. The night I showed up at your place after we’d, you know, kind of broken up.”
“You mean the night that Shadow kicked your ass?” Scott chuckled, hoping Devon would be encouraged to step into a lighter place. “You said it twice.”
“Well, yeah. Maybe? I…what?” Devon shifted so they were facing each other. “Twice?”
Scott hadn’t meant to bring it up again but now he was in over his head. “You were mostly passed out the first time.”
Devon looked offended. “What? No. I remember saying it after we sorted things out. I was definitely in my right mind. Mostly.”
“It’s fine, Dev. Sweet even. And I like that you repeated it later. How is that not romantic? You showed up, blood-spattered and dishevelled after fighting with your best friend. Then you passed out in my bed and I took care of you.”
A grimace wrinkled Devon’s face. “That sounds horrible.”
“No, seriously,” Scott said. He stroked strands of hair away from Devon’s eyes. “It was honest and so much better than saying it like they do in the movies.” Devon cocked his head to the side, eyes squinting. “They always say it in the middle of, you know, sex.”
Devon managed a half-twist of his lips. “That’s not the right way?”
“I’m…I’m sure it’s very heartfelt,” Scott mumbled, ducking his head. “But you said it because you wanted me to know, not just in the heat of passion. Though I like it fine then too.” He met Devon’s gaze again and the love so blatantly filling his eyes nearly took Scott’s breath away.
“Shit. You must've thought I was totally out of my mind.”
Scott smothered a laugh. It wasn't a laughing matter, but, “You want the truth? I was trying so hard to not feel the same way, to not feel anything for you. It was exhausting.”