Page 14 of Consumed
“We’re partners on a mission. We barely know each other. We’re both men. And I’m… messed up.”
The smile hadn’t left Isaac’s face. “Do you have a spreadsheet about this somewhere?”
“I—”
“If you don’t want to, fine. But if youdowant to, and you’re coming up with a bunch of fake excuses for some reason, let me point things out.” He began ticking items off on his fingers. “One, the boss doesn’t care if his agents fraternize. It happens all the time. Hell, some partners are even long-term romantic partners. Two, it’s just sex, not a marriage proposal. We don’t have to know each other. Besides, what Idoknow about you, I like. Three, I’m a four on the Kinsey scale. I like women. I like men even more. And four, I’m not a shallow asshole who’s gonna throw a diva fit because someone doesn’t have a perfect face.”
Isaac put both hands on his hips and waited.
Con realized that he was clutching the blankets to his neck like a scandalized Victorian maiden. With effort, he loosened his fists. Then, jaw squared, he hauled himself out of bed and stood a few feet away from Isaac.
“It’s not just my face, which I’m fully aware looks like something out of a horror movie.” Con pulled the pajama shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed. And then, before he could lose courage, he stepped out of the pants too. Now, like Isaac, he wore nothing but underwear, although Con’s were pale blue and provided more coverage.
“Look,” he commanded.
And Isaac obeyed. He stared at the map of Con’s destruction: the ugly gouges and ridges, the discolored skin, the muscles that weren’t shaped as they ought to be. A frame that had once been muscular but was now thin because weight strained Con’s legs.
But no matter how carefully Con watched Isaac’s face, he didn’t see pity or revulsion. Frank curiosity, yes, and something else. Isaac seemed… impressed?
“Orcs, right?”
“Yes.”
“Nasty bastards. You are one strong man to have survived all of that. I bet you had to work like hell to get yourself in such good shape.”
The fault line widened again, and Con’s world shook. “You’re not—”
“I’m not turned off. Let me be honest—I know I’m pretty. Good genes, and I like to work out. But we live in LA, man.Prettyis a dime a dozen. It’s not what I look for in the people I sleep with.”
“What do you look for?” Con asked, genuinely perplexed.
Isaac shrugged. “Someone who’s interesting. Who’s not an airhead or a fake.” He chuckled. “Someone who doesn’t bitch when I play dinosaur rock in the car and pick mediocre Chinese for dinner.”
In Con’s estimation, those were fairly low standards. And now he felt incredibly self-conscious, standing here as if he were engaged in some type of near-nudity standoff.
“When I said I’m messed up, I didn’t mean just physically. I….” Hoo-boy. He’d discussed this with a therapist, but not with someone who wanted to have sex with him. This was hard. “My family is religious. Like, beyond fundamentalist. They barely tolerate sex between a married man and woman, so as far as they are concerned, homosexuality is a one-way ticket to eternal damnation.”
“Do you believe that too?”
“No. But those thoughts stuck to me anyway, like really stubborn burrs you can’t get rid of. I see the world through my parents’ eyes, and then I struggle to remind myself that those eyes lie.” He let his shoulders slump.
“I get it. My parents are vegetarians. I used to feel guilty as hell every time I bit into a hamburger. The Grateful Dead—that’s their gig, not mine. But it gets into your DNA. Now, my parents are mostly benign. But it sounds like yours gave you some nasty DNA.”
It sounded so simple, put like that. And in a way itwasthat simple, and Con was enormously grateful that Isaac understood. That he wasn’t cursing Con for being a freak or judging him for internalizing unwanted values.
“I’ve tried to work through it,” Con said. “But it’s hard.”
“Sure. Just like working through your physical injuries. Like I said, you’re one strong man.”
The fault line became more, and something inside of Con justbroke. Maybe that something had been a chain.
Con closed the space between them, put his hands on the smooth skin of Isaac’s shoulders, and leaned in for a kiss. As he did, he was astounded at his own… whatever it was. Audacity? Recklessness? Bravery?
It didn’t matter, because Isaac kissed him back.
Although Isaac was tall, Con was a couple of inches taller, which he hadn’t realized until now. Maybe it was because, as he walked, he tended to slightly hunch over his cane, cradling the pain in his core. Now his back was straight.
After what felt like a long time, Con leaned back slightly. “I’m probably not very good at that.” He’d never made out with anyone before.
