The Colors Between Us

by Kate Hawthorne

  Give me this.

  Give me you.

  I deserve more than what you’re giving me. I deserve it all. I want it all. I’ll take it all. I’ll take anything you give me.

  And that was Donny’s reality. He was in need of Roland and would take whatever he could. Donny pulled him to a standing position but kept Roland’s face pulled down so their lips were together.

  “No one makes me hard the way you do. No one’s made me come the way you do,” Donny spoke the words into Roland’s mouth, hoping they’d reach his heart that way— reach his mind. Donny moved Roland’s hand between them and pressed it against his cock, which was quickly getting hard.

  “I deserve everything you have, Roland. But for now, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

  Roland sighed, separating their mouths, his tongue licking across the top of Donny’s lip.

  “For now,” Donny repeated, the warning in his tone was clear. Donny knew his worth, and while he wanted Roland, he wouldn’t take less than for his entire life.

  Donny turned Roland so he was facing the mirror and stood behind him, wrapped his arms around him and stroked them down his chest.

  “You are so much more than you let yourself be,” Donny whispered into Roland’s back, pressing a kiss to his spine. He poked his head around Roland’s body and darted his eyes up to the reflection of Roland’s face.

  Roland stared at himself, blinking and looking shocked. Then he reached his hands up and rubbed his fingertips back and forth across his cheeks and down his throat. He lowered them to his chest and twined Donny’s fingers with his own.

  “Shower with me,” Donny said, moving them both towards the shower, only removing his hand from Roland’s long enough to turn the water on. He pushed Roland inside and followed behind him. He moved Roland under the spray and admired the way his hair stuck to the lines of his throat and his shoulders as it got wet. Donny wiped water from Roland’s angled jaw and raised his thumb to his lips, biting the pad between his teeth.

  Donny gently lowered himself to his knees and wiped his own hair from his face. He looked up at Roland who had placed his hands on Donny’s shoulders. He pressed his face into Roland’s groin. He kissed him there and slid his hands up the back of Roland’s thighs and cupped his ass. He licked Roland’s cock from root to tip and then closed his fingers around the base and stroked him until he hardened.

  “You don’t need to…” Roland started to say, but his words tumbled into oblivion when Donny took his entire cock into his mouth. He sealed his lips around the base of Roland’s shaft and worked his tongue on the underside of his length until it hardened and pressed into Donny’s throat.

  He hummed and moaned until Roland’s cock choked him, and he slid his mouth up the length and dragged his tongue through the damp slit. He slid Roland’s cock across his face, rubbed his cheek across the straining skin and pressed a kiss against the side of it.

  “Be quiet, and let me show you what you’re worth.”

  Roland groaned and Donny swallowed around his cock, bobbing his head up and down. Roland’s fingers tightened around his shoulders and one hand slid up to tangle in Donny’s hair, holding his head steady. Donny hummed in approval and relished the way it felt when Roland’s fingers tightened in his hair and began to guide his movements.

  He grabbed Roland’s ass and spread him apart, then pressed two of his fingers against Roland’s entrance. He pressed one inside, then slid the other hand up the small of Roland’s back and Roland thrust his hips, shoving his cock deeper into Donny’s throat.

  He choked and sputtered, then pressed against Roland’s spine, urging him deeper. Roland grabbed him by the hair and fucked his cock into Donny’s mouth with a level of desire and abandon he’d never shown Donny before.

  Donny loved it. He wanted to see Roland undone, unraveled. He wanted Roland to come apart and shatter. He wanted Roland to understand what he meant to Donny.

  Roland tipped his head backward and the spray of water rolled off his face onto the top of Donny’s head. It ran down Donny’s forehead, obscuring his vision and impeding his breathing. He pushed another finger inside of Roland and buried them both to the knuckles the next time Roland was all the way in his throat.

  Donny tipped his fingers down and tapped them against Roland’s prostate. He cried out and bucked forward, releasing streams of hot cum straight down Donny’s throat. Donny kept pressing while he milked his cock with his mouth, flexing the muscles of his throat around the quivering tip. Roland pressed forward, trying to ease the pressure inside his ass, and Donny swallowed around him.

  “It’s too much, fuck,” Roland choked up, using his grip on Donny’s hair to pull his mouth away.

  Donny stared up at him, panting, his vision blurred from the onslaught from the shower. Roland slid his hands under Donny’s armpits and pulled him so he was standing. Roland smiled at Donny, and it looked like he may have been crying, but he looked so grateful and happy and it was hard to tell with the droplets from the shower all over his face.

  Donny thought his heart was going to explode. Roland hadn’t smiled at him before, never like this, and he was smiling because of Donny, for Donny. He slid his thumbs across Roland’s cheeks and down his smooth jaw, then smiled back.

  “Thank you.” Roland leaned into Donny’s hand.

  “You never need to thank me for sucking your dick,” Donny chuckled, then looked down.

  “Seriously. You didn’t need to. I didn’t expect…” Roland trailed off and angled his eyes toward the wall of the shower.

  “I didn’t need to. I wanted to.” Donny moved his hands to stroke Roland’s chest. “Like I said, Roland, you deserve much more than you allow yourself.”

  Chapter 19

  Please Don't Move

  “Would you want to come have lunch with some friends of mine?” Donny asked Roland three nights later while they were sitting on Roland’s balcony eating takeout Indian food. Roland looked up with a mouthful of curry. Donny’s face looked tentative but hopeful.

  Roland chewed his curry and swallowed, then scratched his still clean-shaven chin. Things had shifted between them earlier in the week. It wasn’t just the sex, although that had been different, and monumental in its own way, and it wasn’t just the way Roland had felt about the shower blowjob or the time Donny spent shaving him beforehand. And Roland knew it wasn’t a change from the medication, because there hadn’t been enough time for it to kick in yet. It was just something inside of him.

  He didn’t know if it was because of Donny, or about Donny, or for Donny. But Roland did his best to not think about it, and not over-analyze it, and not drink it away. Not to say Roland had quit drinking, because he hadn’t. He’d maybe slowed down, but still… His urge to taste the inside of Donny’s mouth for what it was, sadly, was not stronger than his fear of tumbling headfirst back into his depression. Roland had only drank two glasses of vodka a night, if that, since Donny shaved him, and that was working so he stuck with it.

  “Lunch?”

  Donny’s lip tipped up in a small grin that tugged at Roland’s heart. “Yeah. My sister makes lunch for Joel and Gabriel once a week. I’m sure Gabriel especially would love to meet you.”

  Roland picked up his glass and took a small sip. This was his second glass of the night, and he was definitely feeling it and made a mental note that maybe one would be better. Even though the idea of meeting someone who actually owned his art was enough to cause him to panic, he didn’t want to break the two-drink-but-maybe-now-only-one-drink rule he’d arbitrarily set for himself.

  “I don’t know,” Roland replied with complete honesty.

  It had been a long time since Roland had made any art worth sharing. A long time since he'd had a gallery showing. The sunset series that Roland knew hung in Gabriel’s hallway was something he’d painted almost a decade ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed, and he no longer felt qualified to play the part of talented painter.

  “Why not?” Donny asked, s
itting down his container of rice and crawling across the chair to straddle Roland. Donny grazed his hands up Roland’s ribcage and over his biceps and shoulders to the back of his neck.

  “I just…” Roland stopped, aware his entire body was tense.

  “You were so sexy before, but I can’t stop looking at you now,” Donny leaned close and murmured into Roland’s ear, changing the subject. His fingers slid up and dragged across Roland’s jawline. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Fine,” Roland grumbled.

  “Fine,” Donny mocked, and he nipped his teeth at Roland’s ear.

  Roland relaxed his shoulders and rolled his neck, giving Donny better access to the tender spots beneath his ear. He was growing to enjoy the way Donny touched him, the way Donny took what he wanted and gave Roland everything he needed. He felt a level of calmness when Donny was around he couldn’t explain, but again, tried to not over-analyze.

  He still couldn’t paint, though. He’d mixed a new shade of paint, a peachy-pink that bordered on dark red. He mixed it until he'd had enough to cover a dozen canvases solid, then he stacked them beside the blue he’d re-mixed and saved. He didn’t go into the studio, because as long as he didn’t think about painting, he wouldn’t be tempted to break his two drink rule. Going to that lunch would be an immediate breach of the fences he’d set up in his mind.

  Roland sighed and dropped his head back against the cushion of the lounge chair.

  “I want to go with you,” he admitted. “Can it just wait a little longer?”

  And that was true, he thought at least. He did want to go with Donny. He wanted to meet Donny’s sister and his friends. He wanted to exist without drinking a bottle of vodka a day too, but he couldn’t always have his way, now, could he?

  “It’s every week. No rush,” Donny said. Roland groaned and lifted his head up to face Donny and smoothed his hair out of his face. Donny closed his eyes and smiled. “God, I love when you touch me.”

  And Roland loved touching Donny. He'd been trying to do it more. His mind wandered as he stroked his fingertips across Donny’s temple, and he was pretty sure if he mixed some white with his new pink paint that it would be an exact match to the flush that heated Donny’s skin in the wake of his caress. Roland hoped that one day he would be able to make something with the colors he’d found in Donny, but as of this moment, he wasn’t holding out hope.

  “I like touching you.” Roland dragged his fingers down the column of Donny’s throat. “Can I kiss you here?” He tapped his finger against Donny’s Adam’s apple.

  “You can kiss me wherever you want,” Donny replied, tilting his neck back and opening himself up for Roland.

  “Can I kiss you here?” Roland slid his hand between them and skating his palm across Donny’s cock. Donny groaned and thrust himself toward Roland’s hand.

  “Anywhere,” he rasped, reaching behind him to brace himself on Roland’s knees.

  Roland felt emboldened, and he laid Donny back onto the lounge chair and settled between his thighs. Donny’s cock was already hard, pressing at the fly of his jeans, and Roland slowly tugged down the zipper and reached inside.

  “How are you so hard already?” Roland asked softly, leaning close so his breath ghosted over Donny’s flesh.

  “It’s you,” Donny murmured. “You make me ache with it.”

  Roland pulled Donny’s cock from his briefs and stroked it, twisting his wrist when he reached the tip. Donny inhaled and arched into Roland’s grip.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Roland whispered, and the truth of that was almost too heavy for him to shoulder. He didn’t mean physically. He was twice Donny’s size—of course he could hurt him physically, but he would never. He was terrified of fucking up with Donny the way he’d fucked up with Stewart, fucked up with Cody, fucked up with art, fucked up with life.

  Donny propped himself up on his arms. “Roland,” he said, and Roland looked up at him, his mouth inches from Donny’s bobbing erection. “I decide what’s too much. Don’t forget that.”

  Roland nodded and swiped his tongue across the head of Donny’s cock, licking up the precum that had collected there before sealing his lips around his shaft. Roland’s cock throbbed. He could taste Donny. The subtle flavor that slid off his tongue and down his throat, and Roland wanted it more than he’d ever wanted a drink of vodka.

  He licked and sucked his way down Donny’s length, his mouth wet and sloppy as he swallowed everything Donny was giving him. He ran his hands up Donny’s chest, pushing his shirt up and watched the skin color under his fingertips. He groaned and the vibration caused Donny’s eyes to shoot open. That familiar, fiery blue reflected the pink and white of Donny’s skin.

  Donny reached up and tangled his fingers through the ends of Roland’s hair and tugged his mouth down further. Roland’s lips met the base of Donny’s shaft and he inhaled, his nose buried in the small patch of hair that surrounded his cock. Roland pressed his tongue against Donny’s throbbing dick and sucked his way back to the tip and then repeated the motion.

  “I’m going to come, Roland. Fuck,” Donny said through gritted teeth.

  Roland nodded and sucked harder.

  Donny tugged his hair so hard it felt like his scalp was on fire, and then he cried out and pressed himself deeper into Roland’s mouth. Donny coated his tongue with a stream of hot cum, and Roland gathered as much as he could before he swallowed it. He wanted more.

  He swallowed around Donny’s cock, hungry for it. He sucked and licked at Donny’s dripping slit until he pushed Roland off him. They both fell back, their breathing erratic and shallow.

  Donny propped himself up on his elbows again, his cock now lying soft and plump against his thigh. He looked at Roland and his eyes widened. “Don’t move.” He jumped off the chair and stumbled when he tried to right his legs beneath him.

  “What?” Roland asked, confused.

  “Don’t move. Don’t move. Please don’t move.”

  And Donny was gone, darting off inside the penthouse and running down the hallway toward the studio. He was back quickly, and he slid onto the end of the chair with his sketchbook in his hand. He didn’t take his eyes off Roland as he flipped to a new page, then propped it up on his knees and started to draw.

  Roland felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment and he tried to look away without moving.

  “I wish I had colored pencils because your cheeks are fucking beautiful right now,” Donny said to him as his hand furiously moved across the page. He only took his eyes off Roland briefly to check placement of something on the page before he looked back up, his eyes dancing over every inch of Roland’s face.

  Roland didn’t move except to breathe and he allowed himself to be in this moment with Donny while his taste still overwhelmed his senses. The sun had set and Donny was still drawing, seemingly unaware of the passing of time, completely absorbed in Roland.

  Finally, Donny dropped his pencil and held his sketchbook up. Roland watched Donny’s eyes shift between the book and his face. A smile quirked at the corner of Donny’s lips and he lowered the book and shifted his weight so he could crawl up Roland’s body.

  “Kiss me,” Donny said, and Roland did, opening his mouth easily and letting Donny’s tongue leisurely explore. Donny moaned against Roland’s lips. “I taste myself,” he murmured.

  “I taste you,” Roland replied just as he recognized a hint of jasmine mix with the flavors already dancing in his mouth.

  Jasmine rice. Donny had been eating rice with his dinner, and Roland hadn’t. Roland wrapped his hand around the back of Donny’s neck and slid the other into his hair, forcing Donny’s mouth closer. Roland opened wider, and Donny met him, readily and eagerly returning the passion of the kiss with equal intensity.

  Roland tasted the salt of Donny’s cum, and the spices from their dinner. He swiped his tongue through Donny’s mouth, searching for more. He finally found it, picking up a subtle taste that he couldn’t identify, but immediately knew to be
Donny.

  Roland tore their mouths apart, his breathing heavy and his fingers digging divots into the back of Donny’s neck. Donny’s eyes were laced with lust and confusion, but he squared his shoulders and attempted to catch his breath.

  “What did you draw?” Roland finally asked. He loosened his grip on Donny’s neck and self-consciously clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

  Donny’s face was flushed and his chest was still heaving. “You.”

  He reached down for his sketchbook, which had fallen on the floor when Roland had lunged for him. Donny flipped it open and turned to a page in the back and handed it to Roland.

  He looked down at the drawing and inhaled a shaky breath. He looked up at Donny and back down at the drawing. The man on the page looked relaxed and sated. He looked at ease. He looked like Roland. He was Roland.

  “Well?” Donny asked softly. Roland looked up and Donny suddenly looked shy and unsure of himself, a stark contrast to the man who had no issues taking Roland in hand and taking his due.

  “It’s me,” he choked out.

  Donny smiled. “It’s you.”

  Chapter 20

  It's A Little Early

  Donny pulled his car up a familiar long driveway and put it in park then walked around to his trunk and unloaded nearly half a dozen boxes. He was back in Pasadena, with another awkwardly sized delivery for Richard Harrington.

  “Do you need help?” Roland asked, unrolling the passenger window.

  “Nope, I’ll be good. But if this guy snatches and kidnaps me, be sure to call the authorities.” Donny stacked the boxes, which were relatively lightweight on top of each other and leaned in the unrolled window for a kiss.