You know, some people are shocked that I do more then comedy… cause lets face it, I live for comedy and to make others smile. But sometimes I have a deeply dark streak that will out in the oddest of places… Remember Flame’s beating in Keeper of the Flame? So sometimes I put these dark points to good use and create some… drama!!!!! I know, strange, right? But here is a bit from an untitled story that is stuck with the name Devon is Dead… until I can think of a better title…
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And Ketyon smiled as his mate, his lover, his husband for over fifteen years pulled on the ridiculous sleep mask and closed his eyes.
They both had the rare day off, and with their children, twin girls, off at a neighbors for a camping vacation, they both were taking advantage of the small break.
Devon worked nights at a manufacturing plant where he was chief operator and head mechanic. Keyton himself made a modest income as a writer. He supplemented the royalties from his novels by creating costumes for various friends and costumers who swore by his original designs.
They had an interesting life, comfortable for them, but by no means extravagant.
They both were aware that they were perpetually one paycheck shy of a disaster and that a major crisis could ruin both of them.
But their vehicles were paid off, their children were happy and healthy, and who needed exotic vacations and expensive clothing when they had each other.
Especially the snuggling time.
The sun was shining thought the cheap plastic horizontal blinds that they swore they would replace after Keelie, their eldest twin, got her braces removed, and created interesting shapes on their pale peach walls.
Keyton smiled as his lover threw one heavy leg over his waist, holding him closer to his naked chest.
The feel of Devon’s soft skin was intoxicating and he moved slower, nuzzling into the thin blond hair that covered his chest.
Over the years they both lost the hard gym created bodies they longed for when they were younger. But finding real love kind of took the place of pumping yourself so hard that others would take notice. Vanity took a back seat to the sensuality of holding your partner in your arms. Cooking together and just spending time alone took the place of free weights and abs machines; their outward appearances no longer were important.
As a result, Devon, the larger of the two, added a few pounds and inches to his stomach and Devon was not as slim as he used to be.
But that extra padding on his lover made him all the more comfortable to sleep with, and it gave him a settled more mature look that Keyton wouldn’t replace with any hard body that came dancing along.
Relaxing and enjoying this rare opportunity, Keyton closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of soap and masculine musk that permeated their bed.
Devon always smelled so wonderful, so clean and overwhelmingly male that Keyton swore he could not only pick him out of a room of men by scent alone, but that he could quite possibly get off spectacularly on the man’s smell alone.
So Keyton closed his eyes and immersed himself in his lover, the feel of his skin, the weight of the leg that held him close, the feel of his naked body pressed warmly into his. It was all too perfect. Maybe he would just close his eyes for a moment and….
It was the silence that woke him up.
Sure, there was the sound of the ceiling fan over the bed whirling away, and the low almost non-existent whirr of the air conditioner as it pumped cool air into the bedroom… Even the birds were singing sweetly outside, but it was a strange slice that had awoken Keyton.
His nose wrinkling in confusing, he shifted under the heavy weight of his lover’s leg and….
Why was Devon so still?
The weight of the leg didn’t seem any different, it just felt wrong.
And the warmth of his lover… it…it was different.
His hart seized and his breathing nearly stopped. The whole world seemed to slow down as he turned to face Devon.
The man was still, unnatural still.
The goofy mask with Do Not Disturb was still in place, one hand tucked under his cheek line an infants. His full lips were spread in a small teasing smile, the smile Devon always made when he was about to pounce on his lover.
And yet… he was so still.
That broad chest with his light dusting of blond hair was unmoving. His nostrils did not flair with his typical heavy breathing. His body did not move at all.
“De—Devon?” Keyton struggled to say, his mind screaming at him even as he forced his body to action. “Devon…lover?”
He twisted slowly, no small feet with the weight of his lover’s leg holding him down, but e managed to wiggle until he was fully facing his husband.
His heart was bonding now, his eyes burning as his brain told him things that his hart could not accept.
He reached out, his hand trembling with fear and denial, and pressed a against that massive chest, the chest that held them throughout their disasters and their joys, the chest that shielded him as his family rejected him for choosing to stay with the on man loved instead of bowing to the whims of society, the chest that supported him as they were given the news that they had won guardianship of their precious tin girls and again when the adoption went thought without a hitch. He touched the chest that had shielded him form life, that had been a part of his playground when he was feeling frisky, the chest he wanted to beat in when they were arguing then wanted to lick all over as they made up. He touched the chest that walked the floor at midnight after working a grueling double shift, with a twin on each side in an effort to give him a small respite from colic and crying when the children were sick. He touched the chest that meant more than life to him, the chest that belonged to the man that he loved more than any other person in the whole wide word…
And he found it lifeless.
Devon?” he cried out, his nose stopped despite his near hyperventilation. His eyes burned with unshed tears as his brain began to repeat one word over and over again.
His lover was gone. His partner was gone. The first father of his children was gone.
His soul was gone.
Devon” he shook the man again, and watched with tear blurred vision, as his body collapsed onto its back, almost like a puppet with its strings cut, and remained as he fell.
Dead. Devon was Dead. Devon was Dead! Oh God, Devon was dead!
“No, no , no , no, no, no…..” he muttered as he jerked away from the bed, eyes wide in horror, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
He reached for his cell phone on his bedside table, knocking over the perpetual glass of water and a framed picture of their children before he had it in his grasp.
He flipped it open, his eyes frozen to the large body of his lover, lying on the bed like a discarded husk.
Devon was gone. Devon was Dead. Devon was….
“911, please state the nature of your emergency…” there was a voice. He had to respond.
“Devon—“ he stuttered to a halt, his voice sounding weedy and thin.
“Devon is—Devon is dead.”
That was all he could remember until the police were kicking in his bedroom door and the room was being filled by strange men and women in uniforms.
“Devon is dead,” he repeated again, his face wet with tear, his nose stopped to the point where he could hardly breath.
Someone, a tall thin man took the phone from his hand and tried to lead him from the room.
But…he couldn’t leave Devon behind.
“Devon….” he tried to speak but his whole body began to tremble.
Shock was setting in, he knew, but…but Devon…..
Someone was shouting questions at him, shaking him, gripping him by the arms and shaking him like he was a disobedient child. He felt his head bobbing back and forward, but oddly enough he couldn’t move to stop them from doing so.
Finally, someone was shouting about blood pressure and heart rate and the room was growing dim.
Not that he could bring himself to care.
Devon was dead, Devon was gone. Devon was dead.
What did he have to live for?