Love and Other Hot Beverages

by Laurie Loft

  “Stop.”

  “I promise you’re safe from me. Fiiine, do you want a nightshirt? I refuse to have people in my bed with their street clothes on. In fact, I think it’s rude of you to get into my bed like that. I’m so insulted I might just go sleep on my couch.”

  Todd gave him the ghost of a smile before he took off his glasses, and then peeled his shirt over his head. He tossed it to the floor. His trousers followed.

  Sebby repressed the urge to fetch the clothing and put it on wooden hangers. He sat above the covers, one leg tucked under, and handed Todd the mug of milk. “Stir it with the cinnamon stick,” Sebby ordered, and Todd obeyed.

  He sipped, and his puffy eyes widened. “It’s good.” He sipped again, and Sebby could see he was trying to figure out what was in it. “Almond flavoring? You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.” He took a longer drink and sighed. “It’s good. It doesn’t even remind me of anything.”

  Sebby supposed Todd meant that it didn’t remind him of Vivian. Sebby bit down hard on his irritation. “Drink it all up, mi chico. Do you want a cookie? I should’ve brought a cookie.”

  “No.” Todd put his hand on Sebby’s knee as if to prevent his leaving, and Sebby put his hand over Todd’s. He rubbed Todd’s knuckles and smiled at him. Without his eyeglasses, Todd seemed so vulnerable. His pretty blue eyes were bloodshot, and Sebby remembered the first time he had looked into Todd’s eyes. He’d been crying then too, and pretending about dust, and Sebby had touched him and touched his hair, and oh, he had wanted him so much. Todd’s gaze traveled down to where Sebby’s robe gapped open and up to Sebby’s face, and Sebby’s insides scrambled and melted and gelled and melted again. It was startling, the way Todd watched him sometimes, as though Sebby were the best thing Todd had ever seen. Sebby was used to being admired or lusted after, but this was different. It was like Todd meant it, and Sebby couldn’t put it to himself any better than that.

  He reached out and wiped the moisture from under Todd’s eye with his thumb. Todd caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, and Sebby was sure this must be a skill that Todd practiced, because it sent shivers clear up Sebby’s arm and through all his limbs.

  “Oh,” he said, and there came a noise from Todd; maybe it was a sob, but it was hard to say. Todd’s arms went around Sebby, he pulled Sebby to himself, and the mug tipped its contents on Sebby and on his nice robe and on his good sheets, and Sebby didn’t care; it was warm and fragrant, and Todd was kissing him, and he tasted of almond milk and spices. Todd laid Sebby back and kissed him so gently, as if waiting for Sebby to stop him. Sebby drove his tongue deep into Todd’s mouth, moaning just a little. He sneaked his hand between their two bodies to grasp Todd’s cock, and it pulsed in his hand when he squeezed. Todd groaned, and some sort of acrobatic maneuver occurred, and Sebby was suddenly facedown and dizzy. He heard his pretty mug hit the floor, and maybe it broke.

  There was a brief pause while the bed swayed, and then cold, lubed fingers went up his ass. He gasped at the chill of it and squirmed. The shock was exciting, maybe just because it was unusual—Todd always warmed the lube in his palm first, but this time Todd’s cock followed his fingers without even giving Sebby time to adjust, and there was that moment of helpless pain, being pinned and impaled before he relaxed. Then Todd’s arms went around him, and Todd kissed his hair and the back of his neck while he fucked him, and oh, Sebby’s insides were molten pleasure and hot, sharp pain.

  He must have made a noise because Todd stopped, and he was asking if Sebby was all right, and Sebby shouted, “Damn it, Todd, don’t stop!”

  It felt good to shout, so he shouted again, and he wasn’t even sure that he was shouting in English, but Todd must have gotten the idea, because he lifted Sebby to penetrate him more deeply, and oh just a little longer oh just like that yes Dios mío—and then there were no more words or thoughts as Todd thrust even harder in the throes of orgasm, sending Sebby into a shuddering climax. The odor of semen mixed with the scents of the spilled milk as Todd discarded the condom, and Sebby collapsed with a drawn-out moan. Todd was touching him, asking if he was all right, and Dios mío, will Todd ever stop worrying? He managed to breathe one word, if it counted as a word: “’M’okay.”

  Too spent to move, he let Todd arrange the two of them as he would, and slept.

  Sebby woke early. He always did; it was a curse. He had decided to spend the day wearing Todd out. Offering alcohol to Todd had been a mistake; he should’ve just gone with the sex in the first place. It was more effective, anyway.

  Todd’s face was slack with sleep as he snored. It was a cute snore, and Sebby listened for a few minutes before sliding out of bed.

  When he returned, Todd was stirring. Sebby climbed on and straddled him over the covers and blew in his ear. Todd bolted upright and grabbed Sebby by the shoulders. Sebby yelped, and Todd’s eyes went in and out of focus before asking, “What time is it?”

  “A little before seven.”

  “Fuck. We’re late.” Dumping Sebby to one side, Todd leaped from the bed, jammed his eyeglasses on his face, and grabbed his trousers, cursing as his foot came in contact with the fallen mug and sent it skidding. Sebby was pleased to note that it wasn’t broken. “Fuck! I’ll have to go home for my work clothes! Unless . . . have I left any around here?”

  Sebby watched with amusement as Todd got one leg in and hopped and almost fell. “Calm down, I called in sick for both of us. Come back to beeed.” He reclined against a pillow, hoping Todd would look at him in That Way.

  “Both of us?” Todd gaped. “But, ah. They’ll, ah. They’ll put one and one together and get queer.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Do you give a shit?” He raised his eyebrows. “Come to bed.”

  “And besides.” Todd thrust his other leg into his trousers and glowered. He was going to be difficult. “Who gave you leave to be calling in for me? I am perfectly capable of performing my duties.”

  “Oh, yes? Come here and shooow me how you perfooorm your duuuties.”

  “I don’t call in sick unless I’m sick!”

  Sebby huffed. “Toddfox, you’re in no shape to be laboring ten stories above ground. You’re emotionally exhausted. And physically too, I bet.”

  “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for all these weeks? I’m emotionally exhausted every. Single. Fucking. Day.”

  Every day? It hurt Sebby’s heart to think so. “I’m sorry.” He bit his lip. “That was the reason why I—I could see . . . never mind. If you have to go, you have to go, but I’m worn out. I’m staying home.” He pulled the covers over his head and buried his face in his nice soft pillow, with its nice one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton pillowcase.

  “Fine.”

  He heard Todd stomp down the stairs, and it suddenly seemed important that he change the sheets. They smelled of stale milk and stale sex and stale Todd. He tossed the covers in a heap and yanked the fitted sheet off. He had gathered them all up in his arms and was about to lug them to the washer when Todd came pounding up the stairs and threw his arms around Sebby, covers and all.

  “Sebby!” he panted. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Forgive me, I beg you; I’m an ass.”

  Sebby clutched at his heap of covers, which made a convenient barrier between his naked self and Todd. “I know you’re tired, and sometimes people say things they don’t mean when they’re tired. But sometimes they say what they really mean. It’s not your fault. It’s my own fault because I thought I could make you forget him. But you’re still so attached to him, and it’s hard on me, and it’s time we broke up.”

  Todd stepped back. “Ah, God, no. Sebby, don’t.”

  Had he looked that way when Vivian dumped him? Sebby averted his eyes. “I’m sorry. I want you to go. I know it hurts you, and I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re not even hurt because of me, it’s because of when he broke up with you.”

  Todd gently took Sebby’s hands in his, but there was a contrasting undercurrent
of panic in his voice. “I swear that’s untrue. Don’t throw me out. Please, I don’t want to stop seeing you. Please.”

  Had he begged Vivian in the same way? “You’re not getting on with your life, and I almost feel like I’m part of it, like instead of helping, I’m enabling.”

  Todd’s head snapped up. Sebby wasn’t sure of what he’d said, he wasn’t sure of anything, he wasn’t even sure that he wanted Todd to go. Couldn’t you say you love me, or even just that you care for me?

  But Todd bolted. Down the stairs and out the front door. Sebby heard it slam, and he heard Todd’s truck start, the engine rumbling to life and idling in a low grumble. Sebby’s knees gave out, and he sat his bare butt down on his nice hardwood floor, his heap of blankets covering his bare legs. He laughed to himself. He’d fallen for a younger man, and the younger man was breaking his heart.

  Todd threw himself into his truck, slammed the door, sending a shower of rust flakes into Sebby’s driveway, and stuffed the key into the ignition. The truck’s engine grumbled and roared. Enabling! What sort of Dr. Phil jargon was Sebby spouting? Implying that he, Todd, was addicted! To Vivian! Jesus, what a twisted notion.

  Step one, consider: Am I powerless over Vivian? Has my life become unmanageable? Todd slammed his fist into the steering wheel and threw the gearshift, cautiously backed into the street, threw the gearshift again, and stomped on the accelerator, careering down the quiet street at twenty-five miles per hour. God grant me the serenity . . . fuckfuckfuck.

  You haven’t been to a Meeting in months, a reasonable inner voice reminded him. And you do manifest some of the symptoms of addiction.

  That’s preposterous! Love is not an addiction!

  The inner voice sang a few bars of Robert Palmer.

  Goddamn it. I’ll go to work, I’ll resign, I’ll tell them to mail my last paycheck and . . . And what? Where could he run to next? “You great, loping coward,” he said aloud.

  Go back, the inner voice said. Go back and be charming, and perhaps he doesn’t have enough healthy self-interest to turn away someone who will ruin his life.

  When Vivian had broken up with him, Todd had run away because the rejection had stabbed so deep he was afraid that if he did not allow the wound time to knit, it could reopen and he would hemorrhage to death, but fuck all this, fuck this introspection; when you wanted something, you should fight for it and step up. He turned the truck around.

  Be a man, he reminded himself as he stepped out of his truck and stumbled to Sebby’s door. Nevertheless, he rang the bell instead of barging in. The curtain that hung at the door’s window twitched, and Sebby peered out; Todd had the fleetest glimpse of brown eyes before the curtain fell back, there was a puzzling rattle and click, and then the door opened two inches, a chain lock having been placed.

  One brown eye was visible through the gap, a lock of dark hair obscuring it. “What?”

  Todd tried out a charming grin, though his lips trembled. “Pardon me, ah . . . you look like someone who would appreciate good coffee.”

  The eye blinked. “There’s lots of things I appreciate.”

  Todd tried to see if a different angle would give him more of a view of Sebby’s face. “I can’t help being concerned for your coffee needs.”

  Sebby peered at Todd first with one eye, then the other. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

  “I am, in fact, concerned for myself and, not having taken the time to obtain a morning cup of java—”

  “I remember you prefer shit. Go back to it. There’s a 7-Eleven down the street.”

  Todd shifted. Still, the door remained open, and was that not a good sign? “Having been introduced and become accustomed to the finer points of good coffee, I find myself unable to settle for a cheap substitute, even one gaudily arrayed with neon signs and fancy syrups.”

  One eye regarded him steadily. “Isn’t that what you’ve been settling for? Me? A cheap and gaudy substitute?”

  Todd inserted his fingers through the narrow opening in a gesture of appeal, though he touched woodwork and empty air. “No, never. You’ve never been a substitute for Vivian, and this I swear. I’m wretched that I’ve made you think so.”

  The eye dropped its gaze. “Not a substitute, then, a distraction. It’s my own fault. I knew that’s all I was to you, and I was happy to be that. But not anymore, and that’s why I’m cutting it off. I’m not as generous as I thought. It’s like sharing you with a ghost, and now it hurts to see how you’re ready to run all the way across the country at the wave of his little finger.”

  “But I’m not! I didn’t!”

  “Yet. But you’re gonna. I’m just something to kill the pain. An opiate.”

  It was uncharacteristic of Sebby to employ a metaphor, and Todd smiled despite himself: the idea of Sebby as an opiate was madly romantic. He imagined a soul-sick and world-weary version of himself descending into a dim, smoky den, passing through grimy bead curtains that fell back behind him with a sigh. He saw himself passing users who reclined alone or in groups, lost in stupor, and Sebastián, stepping forward through a haze of intoxicant, opening his arms to Todd, his lips curved in a smile, offering blissful, blessed oblivion.

  The eye narrowed. “What’re you thinking?”

  Abandoning any effort at lightheartedness, Todd curled his fingers, still thrust through the door opening. “I must talk to you, and I cannot talk through a door. May I come in?”

  “Aren’t you late to work?” There was no sarcasm in the tone.

  “For you, I am willing to blow off the entire construction industry.” Sebby hesitated, and Todd reminded himself not to beg. It was unattractive, and it sure as hell hadn’t worked with Viv. “I understand you’re upset with me. If you wish me to go, I shall. But first promise me we’ll talk later. It doesn’t have to be today, if you need some time alone, but tomorrow? Don’t say it’s over without allowing me to . . .” To what? “I cannot bear to be parted like this!”

  The eye closed. Sebby sighed and shook his head. “Todd, you are pitiful.” Todd held his breath. “Move your hand.” Todd obeyed and the door shut; there was the clinking rattle of the chain unlatching, and then the door opened wide. Todd stepped inside. Sebby was wearing faded, ripped jeans and a frayed tee, and the effect was seductive, right down to his bare, brown feet, which Todd found himself wanting to kiss, fetishist or no.

  “Thank you,” he said gravely. Sebby huffed, shut the door behind Todd, and walked off. Todd trailed him down the hallway, his eyes straying to a horizontal tear in Sebby’s jeans just under his left buttock. The tear widened and narrowed with his gait, alternately revealing and hiding his flesh, and Todd had to contain the urge to place his hand there, to thrust his fingers through the rent fabric.

  In the kitchen, Sebby dropped into a chair and tucked his hands under his knees, one of which emerged from a wide hole. Todd could feel that knee against his mouth as if he were kissing it.

  “You make it.” Sebby nodded at the French press. Todd started. Feeling that this was some sort of test, he pulled a bag of Kona beans from the cabinet, hoping he could remember the procedure. He measured the beans, poured them into the grinder, and began turning the crank.

  “I want to tell you a story,” Sebby said.

  “A story?”

  “Don’t stop in the middle of grinding. The grounds’ll be uneven.”

  Todd obeyed, frowning.

  “I once had a boyfriend who hit me.”

  Todd whipped around. The casual statement sounded like the opening of a bad limerick.

  “The first time was right here.” Sebby tapped his forefinger just under his eye. “Keep going.”

  Todd winced, but he scooped the grounds into the French press.

  “It hurt, but I didn’t make a sound; I was so shocked that it even happened. No one’d ever hit me before in my whole life, not like that, not with a fist. He knocked me down into a chair, and I stared up at him. I could see he wanted to hit me again, but then his face
. . . crumpled . . . He was so sorry. He said he didn’t know what happened, he kneeled on the floor and put his head in my lap. I was so relieved that of course I forgave him. I believed him that it wouldn’t happen again.”

  Was there a moral to this story? Was Sebby going to compare Todd’s angry words to being punched in the face?

  “I had a royal bruise. He helped me think of a good lie: that a block of frozen cheese fell on me.” He cocked his head. “Who wouldn’t believe that? I’m little, and I keep weird shit in my freezer. The second time was here and here.” He pointed to his left eye and the right corner of his mouth. Todd had to look away, with the excuse of filling the electric kettle. “I had a black eye and a split lip. Todd, no, use the spring water.”

  “Sorry.” Todd poured out the kettle and fetched the spring water, adding enough to the teakettle for two cups. Waiting for the water to boil, he turned to face Sebby.

  “He was just as sorry, and I sat there holding ice to my mouth and petting his head that was in my lap . . .” Gazing off at nothing, Sebby bit his lip.

  Was Sebby saying forgiveness was a mistake?

  “I was scared. We fucked.” He shrugged. “Next day, I called in sick, because shit falling out of a freezer wasn’t going to explain my face. But he went to work. I cleaned my whole house, cellar to attic, wondering what I should do. Finally, I called him at his job and told him it was over. I said I never wanted to see him again. He begged and even cried. I said I was changing the locks. Then he said I’d be sorry, that no one would ever love me . . .” He smiled at Todd. “But I was firm.”

  “Sebby—” Todd started, but the teakettle whistled. Todd poured the boiling water into the French press. He set the egg timer.

  “The third time,” Sebby went on, and Todd groaned, “he was waiting for me in my kitchen. It’d been weeks, and I’d heard nothing, and I’d thought he was out of my life. He still had a key. I’d never changed the locks. He grabbed me and . . .” Sebby stared off into space. “It was so familiar. He wanted sex, and the easiest thing would’ve been to let him, but instead I fought him. It was stupid. He’s way bigger than me.” He shook his head. “He could’ve just held me down and fucked me. He’s that strong. But it was like he wanted to make me give in to him. Like it would be different then. Well, I wouldn’t. We, um, scuffled, and he brought my arm down on the edge of the counter.” Sebby waved his left arm. “I heard it snap. Or maybe I just felt it.” He regarded Todd as he spoke musingly. “I blacked out. I woke up on the floor, and he was gone. It must’ve scared him.”