49. part one
„Dave...“, Mart’s nervous fingers slowly wander along his friend’s jeans clad glutes, „...did Alan...did he...?“
David moves his head that was nuzzling in the crook of his neck and meets a pair of upset, green eyes.
„I already told you he buggered me those days.“
He knows pretty well that this is not what Mart was asking for. He can’t help it to let him suffer a little longer, forcing him to finally express all that’s swirling through his mind. The blond haired man winds himself like a snake.
„Umh, you mentioned he...you let him into your pants even during your solo tour...perhaps longer. Hell, what do I know?!“
The lines of his facial structures seem to strengthen and his chin pushes a little forward.
„Well, you seemed so...tight...so inexperienced.“
A red tinge makes it over his cheeks and he nibbles at his full, lower lip. The corners of Dave’s mouth twitch slightly.
„Curly, except that one, terrible moment he never had me. You should have realized that it’s more the power thing that gets him off. Oh well, he touched me everywhere and you remember my blow job qualities – he’s not that bad himself.“
„Geez, Marty! He’s not that good! I didn’t really enjoy it.“
„But you came for him!“
„I want to see you all tied up, a firm hand or warm, wet lips around your cock and not shooting your load!“
„He tied you?“
„Occasionly. Mart, he was different with me. When I read about all those things he did to you I was honestly shocked. That’s not the Alan I got to know. Looks like he owns people in several ways. As long as he’s in control.“
Both men stare at each other and it’s obvious the same thoughts must cross their minds.
„He can’t blackmail us forever, Dave. You read him. He still wants us both. That’s sort of creepy the longer I think about it.“
The plaid slips over Martin’s leg and lands in front of the couch. With a quick grab he pulls it back and covers their still dressed bodies cautiously.
„Do you still want him as well, Curly?“
„Jesus, Dave! Do I want him, do I want Jenny, do I want you?! I wish my feelings were so easy to extract!“
He takes Dave’s face into his hands.
„Why do you think I’m so afraid to ask you about Al? I love you, David! It gives me an unbearable pain to imagine him...him owning you, every part of your gorgeous body, every bit of your mind and soul...and more.“
„Why do you hurt me then? I still can’t believe...if Jenny and you just had a night of passion, but you didn’t step back! Why?“
The blond curly man tries to avert his eyes again but Dave forces him to look, fixing his face this time.
„I want to know everything NOW. We manage to be open with each other this time or there can’t be any future for us, you get me? I can’t go on like that – it tears me into pieces!“
„Will you tell me more about...?“ Martin’s voice dies from his upset emotions.
„Whatever you want to know about Charlie and me – I won’t hold anything back. A few things you might not want to hear, but I’m telling them anyway.“
His index finger follows the prominent lines of Mart’s lips. He sighs and then moves in for a soft, light kiss.
„I’m tired, you know. All the hazzle over the last days, the session earlier. You’re lucky I didn’t have the energy to finish what I’ve started in that bloody kitchen.“
„Then don’t talk now. Shut your mouth and let me touch you.“
„My body wants to speak, but my mind is cloudy, Curly. I can’t make love to you. Not yet.“
His deep, hazel-green irises emanate all the mixed emotions that seem to whirl in his confused mind.
„I need your closeness and touch, but...“
„You’re afraid to trust me, to rely on your feelings...and my feelings.“ There’s an utmost sadness in Martin’s smooth voice now.
„Don’t leave me, David. It’s summer yet I feel icy. It’s my own damn fault, I know.“
„This is not about consolation sex, Martin. It goes deeper. Make-ups are for movies.“
Mart slips off the couch onto the floor. Crawling over to the rest he reaches for one of Dave’s naked feet. The jeans fabric brushes over the soft leather of the sofa. Taking in his mate’s surprised expression he starts kissing each single toe. Then he continues along the sole up to it’s heel. Dave apruptly sits up and tries to pull away.
„What the fuck?!“
Mart eyes him with a submissive expression.
„If I’m just worthy to be down at your feet I’ll do it. I’m yours – completely. Even my pride is yours. Just tell me you’ll stay with me...and love me!“
Wetness collects in those green-amber eyes and Dave knows immediately that this is no kinky game.
Would I crawl on the floor for sombody, for his or her love? Could I be so desperate? Have I been that desperate? Don’t I usually run and lick my wounds instead and pity myself?
Gliding down onto the carpet as well, he grabs his lover and shakes him furiously by his shoulders.
„You’re not doing this to yourself and me! You do not belong onto the floor. I once thought it was my place but I was so wrong. We all make severe mistakes, we hurt and destroy what we love. I should know, damn! I won’ take it. For heaven’s sake! Get up!“
49. part two
He helps his friend, taking his arms and both shortly after stand in front of each other.
„I shouldn’t have done this – getting so close to you again...before I can think and feel clearly again. I’m sorry Mart. I didn’t want to give you false hopes. It’s just...“
„No more, my dark angel. You know where to find the guestroom.“ His eyes show a little inkling of hope. „And you know where to find me.“
It’s got silent in the large house. The second hand of the clock on Martin’s fire place moves closer to 2 am. Dave is restless and the summer heat still makes him feel uncomfortable. Having not moved for about half an hour, still staring onto the spot Mart crouched before, he sighs and jumps up from the couch, walking over to the glass door that leads to the patio and shoves it open. Inhaling the slightly cooler, fresh night air he’s a bit disappointed that the ocean is too far away to walk. This is not the secret summer house but the ‚villa’ up in the hills. The pool has to do. Getting quickly rid off his clothes he dips into the calm water. Taking some majestic, long strokes he reaches the other end of the lenghty bassin. Smoothing his wet hair back he spits out, trying to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth. It’s one of his lesser pleasant attitudes, he knows. Several times Andy or crew staff complained when he could not hold back on stage. Sometimes it’s just being lazy to use the little bucket, other times he does it on purpose, being fully aware. Getting the shit off his chest to keep his voice nice and clear – who would really argue with him about it? He was Dave Gahan!
„Brilliant! I wish I could get all the other stuff that easily out off my system!“
Swimming some more lanes in a furious speed he finally has to stop to gasp for more air. Shooting out off the water he lets himself fall onto the polished stone tiles that frame the pool. Letting his legs still float inside he braces himself on his arms, looking up into the sparcely lit sky. His eyes detect a few starsigns yet he can’t remember each single name. One should be ‚Eagle’ though. Hmh, he more feels like his wings were cut and he’s doomed to stay on the ground. Flying high – seeing things from a different perspective – what did his Yoga instructor told him? Try levitating above yourself. Easier said than done when you’re kida tied to the floor. He watches a few water droplets collect on his skin and slowly flow downwards, disappearing along his thighs. If his thoughts would finally collect like those and he just could wipe them off – or they would just dribble away. Life’s not like that. Maybe he should follow Mart’s example and start writing it off his chest? Perhaps seeing all the words yelling back at him would give him a new direction?
Another fresh breeze lets him shiver and he makes it back towards the house. Having dried with a fluffy towel he found in the bathroom he rummages in his bag and when he doesn’t find any suitable paper he shortly thinks about using the MacBook yet lets the thought immediately go. It has to be more concrete. Palpable. Sneaking into his lover’s office he takes a few sheets paper out off the printer and then looks for a pen. Sitting down on the swivel chair nearly automatically he adujusts the first page and starts scribbling.
An hour and about six tightly filled sheets of paper later he leans back shortly and stretches his arms. Folding the pages neatly he wants to slip them into the pocket of his jeans – to realize that he’s still stark naked! With a lobsided grin he places the little bundle back onto the polished desk, takes another piece and just writes four words onto it. Letting it rest there in the middle of the working space he takes the folded pack and silently follows the few dim lights in the hallway to get into his bed for the remains of this night.
Martin turns in the sheets for the millionth time – at least it feels like it. Every moment his tired body and mind demand some sleep he’s trapped in short but intense nightmares, shooting up in his huge bed – reaching over to his side to find it deserted and untouched.
„Even my sleep is different when you’re not there, baby.“
The water doesn’t help to soothe his dry throat – doesn’t kill his thirst. Annoyed he catapults the empty plastic bottle into one corner of the spacy bedroom. The shadows on the walls seem to change into evil, contorted, hideous faces. Martin knows it’s just his guilt staring back at him. When he can’t take it any longer he crawls off the mattress, his legs shaky on the fluffy carpet. Finding his way into the kitchen like in a trance he opens the fridge for some icy cold milk. Not really healthy but who the fuck cares?! The digits of the microwave oven remind him it’s only three hours till they should be ready for leaving to the studio. Outside it already dawns and the birds really get on his nerves this early morning. No peaceful scenery as usual, no relaxed tea after having finished dabbling in the home studio – delving in the good feeling of having created something special again. He takes another deep gulp from the bottle, the white liquid spilling a little along his chin. He didn’t even care to get a glass. A rumble of protest in his yet empty stomach tells him it’s enough freezy stuff for now. He dumps the milk back behind the brushed steel door and trots back into the corridor, wondering why the door to his office isn’t closed as usual. It’s the only room he looks after. No need any nosy guests might invade his privacy there – all the contracts and official papers stored there, well most in a safe.
Opening the crack of the door completely the room lies empty. Something is different though. He walks over to his desk and sees the lonely page of paper in the middle of it. Quickly he presses the light button.
Stop suffering. Face yourself.
He doesn’t need his glasses to detect Dave’s handwriting. Holding the sheet in his nervous hands he sees the shallow imprints of other letters. David must have written more. Searching for a pencil he anxiously starts rubbing the graphite over the page. The text begins to form in front of his eyes.
Charlie, you always told me I’d never be really free if I wasn’t able to give another person control over myself. You didn’t tell me you wanted to totally own me. You lied to me about your real motifs. Freedom – that’s what you take away to empower your own. I learned one thing for sure – the only chain I will allow is the one that ties my heart. Love is the only control instance – if you are able to find it and keep it. I really start to wonder if you ever really have been in love. Honestly, I doubt it! You think you can control other people’s emotions as you can do it so well concerning yourself – you couldn’t be more wrong! It doesn’t need much to hold someone captive that is desperately seeking for boundaries to cross. You are weak, my friend! Your façade is bloody brilliant, but I could see a lot last time we met – that horrible weekend! You are a man of flesh and blood – like anyone of us! I try to get that into my mind. Every time I smell leather the cycle starts again. I don’t want you in my head! The feelings, the rush – it’s nothing I’m ashamed of, yet I want to decide! You were right – I like to be in control but control likes me more. I’m the one on crutches – I know! The booze, the drugs, the sex. You never really understood my devotional period – you never really encouraged me to stop – you used me though you despised the state I was in. It was the only time I sort of had myself to my own – all alone with the dope. Much later, after the rehab you showed up like a recurring desease. I’d spiritually grown but you had nothing better to do than to use Martin to hit on Jennifer – trying to destroy the safety zone I was building up – gaining the selfesteem and health to return to being myself – David Gahan. Lover, husband, caring father and respected musician. Now tell me about control! It needs lot of it to keep up with all the responsibilities I have in my life since then. I’m proud of it – it’s such a tough way but I’ve managed it WITHOUT you, Alan! I’m not dependent on you! You are one of my addictions – yes, that’s what I should call you! I might never really heal, but I can stay abstinent! Come near me and I will bite back next time! It will be like with a glass of red wine. I’d love to drink it – I still can imagine the rich, full, aromatic flavor – but I will order a soft drink, knowing what I otherwise will risk. I am that sort of personality – the one that easily falls, but gets up again in the end. You didn’t show me the world of kinky business – you taught me worse. During the long months of therapy I learned to see the good in the bad. You turn good things into bad.
Here the text ends. His head is busy processing all the input – it’s just a fragment. He needs all of it!