by Lisa Henry
His heart was pounding, his shirt clinging to a fresh film of sweat on his back, droplets trickling down his sides. Christ, he’d almost humiliated himself in front of his coworkers. How would he have handled those questions? “Ha ha, guys, I lost a bet”?
No, there wasn’t anything that would undo that humiliation. He was already deep enough in the shit. The last thing he needed was an office rumor about his predilections.
Marquis’s rational mind reminded him that guys weren’t in the habit of staring each other down at the urinals—and even if someone saw, not everyone would know what it was. Besides, it didn’t stand out much.
Being reasonable didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse, made him feel even more foolish and out of control. Marquis remembered this exact feeling from high school: hiding in the bathroom, paralyzed by the stark terror that everyone knew the truth about him, that he’d be off the football team, he’d be a laughing stock, that he’d lose everything. He’d tried so hard to be normal all his life. Why couldn’t he just be normal?
Marquis desperately wanted to talk to Navin, to hear his low, serene voice. Navin could fix this, or at least he would remind Marquis why he was doing this. Navin made Marquis feel—if not normal, then accepted, even good about who he was. But he was stuck in a goddamned bathroom stall, surrounded by people who’d overhear his every word. And a text message didn’t seem appropriate. Hey, man, just tried to take a piss and almost outed myself to the entire company. How awesome is that?
No, thanks. He’d just have to wait until tonight, when they were alone.
He retreated to his desk and got back to work, keeping his head down. Or tried to get back to work. Every time someone walked past his desk, he’d freeze, his whole body so tense it hurt. He had pulled his chair so close to the desk his ribs pressed into the edge, but he couldn’t shake the feeling everyone could see him. See the cage.
What if someone really did see? It had been his idea at first, but Navin liked him like this, locked up. What if he wanted Marquis to wear it all the time?
What if he had to wear it on business trips? Could he share a hotel room with a coworker and still hide it?
What if everyone knew?
The questions flooded his mind, drowning his composure every time he managed to put it back together. He’d fallen into a whirlpool of doubt and loathing and fear. His head spun and his stomach churned as though it were trying to drain out all the horror building up in him.
He’d be done here. He’d never be able to show his face at work again. He could hardly show his face now, and no one had seen anything. At least, he didn’t think they had. What if someone had heard the metal and the plastic. What if they knew?
Shaking, Marquis pushed away from the desk and stumbled to the bathroom. He couldn’t work like this. If he didn’t do something about it, he’d be fired, even if no one found out. He couldn’t stop the distress, however much he wanted to simply man up and will it away, so he didn’t have a choice but to remove the source.
Hidden inside the cramped stall, he snapped the plastic lock and watched the cage fall away.
Navin got lost on the way to Marquis’s condo and vowed to never mention it—how the hell had they been dating this long and he still couldn’t find his way to Marquis’s place? Now he was the neglectful boyfriend. He had the makings of a good meal with him, though. Marquis’s favorites: steak, corn, salad, baked potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. He didn’t know how to make any of it himself—he’d had to pick most of it up ready-made—but he’d get Marquis to teach him soon.
Domestic daydreams warmed him through as he made his way up to Marquis’s door to let himself in. He had the key to Marquis’s front door, Marquis wore the cage Navin had locked on him, it all felt right. It felt as though they were finally together, not just dating. They were discovering their kinks as a couple—this was really theirs.
The frustration and disappointment of the past months was gone, replaced by a sense of that this might finally become everything Navin had hoped it would be. He and Marquis might really be right for each other. This might be the partnership he’d wanted all his life.
He put the groceries down in the kitchen and surveyed the area. Marquis had left him a note on the fridge, instructions for how to use the grill. Just the sight of his handwriting made Navin’s heart leap. He smoothed out the paper, ran a finger over the heart scrawled at the bottom of the page. Little gestures like that, romantic ones, weren’t really Marq’s style but Navin was liking this new side of him. He could get used to it if it were permanent.
An hour later, Navin had done everything but grill the steaks. No Marquis yet. He’ll be here. Navin got a beer out of the fridge—Marquis’s fridge was emptier than his—and wandered the rest of the condo while he waited. If Navin remembered correctly, Marquis had a better sports package than he did. He started looking for the TV remote. It wasn’t near the couch, so it was probably on the television unit.
No remote. Movies, though. He didn’t remember Marquis having so many last time he was here, though it had been months. He pulled one out and was startled by the graphic image on the cover. Porn. Not that Navin had a problem with porn, just that he hadn’t expected to see it out on Marquis’s shelf.
The man on the cover was bound, gagged, and leashed. The next cover showed a naked man kissing the polished shoes of a businessman. Naked Naughty Interns, the title read. Another random selection showed a man spread-eagle on some kind of bondage furniture, a gag in his mouth, a toy in his ass, and a cage on his cock. Begging to Cum IV.
Navin shoved them all back on the shelf, not sure what to think. The way Marquis had acted . . . He’d acted as though this was all as new to him as it was to Navin. But these movies . . . Well, Marquis hadn’t bought them all just in the past couple weeks, had he?
He picked up his beer and stalked back into the kitchen, trying to sort some rational thought out of his confusion and distress. All he could come up with was anger.
And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Marquis was late again. The macaroni and cheese was drying out, the potatoes were too crusty, the water for the corn was half-simmered away.
Apparently, he couldn’t even hold Marquis’s attention with a cage on his dick. And looking at those DVDs, Navin knew the cage had been nothing more than a game he’d been suckered into. Except it hadn’t been a game to Navin. It had been the possibility of staying with the person he loved and, worse, it had felt so real. Real for Navin, but not for Marquis, or he’d be here by now.
Navin had actually thought this was a way of life they were going to have together, and now he felt intolerably foolish. This was nothing for Marquis but some kind of fantasy he’d finally gotten around to sharing. Navin undid the chain around his neck with unsteady hands. He wasn’t sad; he was furious. The key was warm and sharp at once in his palm; it hurt when he clenched his fist around it.
He’d changed so much because of what he’d thought Marquis saw in him and now it turned out to be nothing more than a cheap thrill, a well-worn fetish that had served a purpose in prolonging the inevitable. Navin wanted to do something to fix this, to make it hurt less, but he didn’t know what or how. He was stuck again, stuck in this trap of being forgettable, and that made him feel even more awful. He’d done this to himself, and he didn’t know how to get out.
All week, Marquis had been looking forward to having Navin over for dinner. Anticipation hadn’t kept him from getting stuck at work late, though, especially not after that disastrous meeting. Silvia had said it was fine, but he knew better, and when she’d come in at four with a last-minute adjustment to a project she was meeting on tomorrow, Marquis stayed to help her with it. If he hadn’t, he’d have felt even more insecure about work. Irrationally, he couldn’t help feeling that she’d deliberately waited until the last minute to spring it on him, like a test.
He wasn’t late by much, though, once he was done. Barely an hour. Maybe Navin wouldn’t even notice. Just like he wouldn’t notic
e that Marquis had taken off the cock cage? Not much chance of either one, and Marquis knew it.
He pushed open the door and called out, “Honey, I’m home!”
“Hey. I’m in here.” Navin’s voice came from the living room, slightly at odds with the delicious smells drifting over from the kitchen. He sounded tired, but not angry. Work had been busy for him lately.
“Hey.” Marquis left his shoes in the hall closet but brought his briefcase along to the living room to leave it under the coffee table. “You okay? You don’t sound so . . .”
Navin was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, watching the dark TV. “Couldn’t find the remote,” he said, gesturing at it. Or maybe at the line of DVD cases underneath. He had to have seen them. What was he thinking? Was he upset about that, or because Marquis was late? Marquis’s stomach churned.
“I was going to watch some football or something while I waited for you to get home,” Navin finished mildly. There was something in his voice, though, that said Marquis was right to be nervous.
Marquis dropped onto the couch next to Navin. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He was sorry for all of it.
Navin ran his hands over his face. “You’re late. But that’s just part of the problem.” He got up without looking at Marquis and crossed the room to the TV unit. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” He pulled out one of the movies.
Marquis shook his head. “I—I don’t know.”
“I didn’t know you were into this. I mean, not . . . not really. A year and you only bring this up now— You didn’t even bring most of it up; I had to find it. You couldn’t share it with me?” Navin put the movie back and scrubbed his hands through his hair so his curls spiraled out in all directions.
“I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.” The movies had been tucked away, yes, but not because he hadn’t wanted to share them. But there was no way for Navin to know that, and Marquis had been too damn stupid to think about it from his perspective before he’d set them all out with no introduction. “I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“What, and when you knew you were going to lose me anyway, you thought you’d throw that in at the last, see if it worked?” Navin was actually angry, more so than Marquis had ever seen. His dark eyes were glittering with emotion—he was alive with hurt and anger. “Well, it worked for me, Marq. I just wish it had worked for you. I wish it was something you actually shared with me, instead of using it to buy yourself some more time.”
Navin paced the room. His quiet footfalls echoed like thunder in Marquis’s ears, every step like a door being slammed shut. And, still, Marquis didn’t know what to say to defend himself. There wasn’t much he could say because Navin was right. He’d been desperate to keep Navin from leaving him, and his desperation had given him the freedom to take that risk, to give the cage to Navin.
“I didn’t mean for it to be like this.” Not that it helped, but Navin deserved to know that much. “It’s just . . . It did work. It was fantastic, Navin.” Marquis got up to try intercepting Navin on his next circuit of the living room. “Everything I wanted.”
“What the hell does it say that you couldn’t be on time, couldn’t respect me, until you got ‘everything you wanted’?” Navin pulled away before Marquis could touch him. “What does it say that even when you did, it wasn’t enough for you to remember me? It wasn’t enough, Marq. I’m not enough.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Marquis’s gut twisted with desperation as he tried to find something to say that would save this. “Not about you not being enough, but about the cage and the key and everything. Maybe it’s not working. But we— I’m here. I’m here. With you. This is the only place I ever want to be. I know I don’t show it, but it’s true.”
“I can’t be with someone who can’t show it.” Navin reached into his pocket and pulled out the key on a chain that Marquis had given him. “I’m invisible most of the time, Marquis. I’m a walking redundancy. A human backup plan. I feel like life is passing me by. I have to matter most to someone, even if the only someone I can find is me.” He held the key out, waiting for Marquis to take it.
“I’m sorry.” There wasn’t anything else to say.
“Don’t be sorry. Please. I really like you, Marquis. When we’re together, I’m happy. But the rest of the time, I don’t think I have what it takes to keep your attention. I’m the one who’s sorry.” Navin shook the chain and the key glinted. “Not that you need it, but . . . you don’t have to wear that thing anymore.”
Marquis took the key because refusing would just draw this out, make Navin feel worse. He didn’t have to wear the cage anymore. He didn’t have to admit he’d taken it off. It wasn’t a relief to be let off the hook.
“I’m sorry, Navin.” The key was warm in his hand. “I wanted this to work. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it work.”
“Dinner is mostly done. I’m just— I think I’m just going to go, though.” Navin’s anger was fading and an endearing uncertainty was taking its place, as though he was ready to disappear at a moment’s notice if anyone was inconvenienced by his presence. “I should go.”
Marquis wanted to reach out, but couldn’t. What could he say? Nothing. He’d hurt Navin in a place Navin was hurting already, which was the last thing he’d wanted to do. At this point, it wasn’t even about Marquis’s feelings anymore. He was bad for Navin.
“Navin, I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I got you into this. Sorry I promised things I couldn’t really give you: me. Sorry I promised you me. Maybe they just hadn’t been ready for it, either of them.
“It’s okay. We tried, right?”
“It’s not okay.” Marquis didn’t know what he was going to do with the chain now, with the key. He didn’t want to hold it right now, didn’t feel as though he deserved to touch it anymore. Carefully, he put it aside on the end table, on a stack of coasters, where he wouldn’t lose it. He’d deal with it tomorrow. “But we did try, yeah. Thank you.”
“I’ll come by some time and bring your stuff back. I think there’s still a few things of yours at my place.” Navin inhaled sharply, then turned to face Marquis. “I still really care about you, Marquis. I wish I were better at not feeling this way, at not being hurt, but I’m not. I can’t keep going through this cycle.”
There was nothing in Navin’s expression that welcomed any entreaty to stay, to work things out. Marquis gave a broken nod, one distracted hand shoving back the cascade of braids that fell against his cheek while the other found its way into his pocket to keep from shaking.
“I do too. I’ll . . .” He didn’t have anything of Navin’s here. Navin hardly ever came over to his place, so there wasn’t much chance for him to leave anything behind. In his pocket, Marquis’s fingers brushed his key ring. The key to Navin’s place. He fished it out and started pulling that one off the ring. “Here. I should. This is yours.”
“Right. Yes.” Navin’s keys rang against each other as he undid his own key chain to get Marquis’s key off of it. “I’m sorry.”
Don’t say that, Marquis wanted to tell him. Hearing Navin apologize again for something Marquis knew was his own fault—late, always late, too inattentive, too oblivious to his own kinks, too eager for an easy fix—it made everything even more painful. He should have relied on something else, should have relied on them, to fix what was wrong.
“So am I,” he whispered, because he couldn’t let anything else out for fear he’d spill all of it, all the things Navin didn’t want to hear anymore, all the things that didn’t matter anymore because it was already over. It was too late for anything but, “I’m sorry.”
“Take care of yourself.” As Navin took the key, his fingers brushed Marquis’s skin, warm . . . and then gone. Marquis ached for these final touches to last longer, but Navin was more careful when he set Marquis’s key down, dropping it from just above Marquis’s palm. No contact at all. “I’ll call you to work out getting your things back.” He tucked his house key
away as he turned to go.
If Marquis had anything to say right now, he’d say it. He was ready to say anything, but that’s what had gotten them here the first time—that he’d do anything, even something foolish, to keep Navin with him. The front door closed behind Navin, and Marquis just stood there and let it happen. He was out of options. Out of time.
Marquis finished off his beer and waved at the bartender for another. “Gimme a shot, while you’re at it. Tequila.”
“Make it two of each.”
The bar was loud, but not so loud Marquis didn’t recognize Amrit’s voice. Amrit collapsed onto a barstool next to him, looking leaner and darker and shaggier. Aside from the weariness around Amrit’s eyes, he could have been coming off a pleasant vacation.
“That’s not going to fix this. I speak from personal experience. However, it will fix things for me. Things like my stress over you breaking up with Navin.” Amrit glared at Marquis, then softened it with a pat on the back. “Damn it, Marq. Everything seemed fine when I left and I come back to this. Do you know what I’ve been through while I was away? Dida is less fun than Mummy. Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Was no an acceptable answer? Marquis eyed Amrit. Probably not.
“I was late for dinner. I’m always late.” Two beers and a couple shot glasses plunked onto the bar in front of Marquis, then the shot glasses were gone as Amrit snagged them.
“I need to catch up.” Amrit drank both tequilas in rapid succession, then gestured at the bartender again. “I hate it when you get ahead of me, you know that.”
“I didn’t know you were back.” Marquis grabbed his tequila before Amrit could take it this time. If he drank it, Amrit couldn’t steal it. “Until you texted me twenty minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well, I needed a break. And certain people missed me. I have an obligation to give willingly of myself, you know. I was going to tell Mummy I was home today; I’m sure of it.” Amrit downed his third tequila as though it were water, then started on his beer. “I got back yesterday . . . maybe the day before. I think.”