by R. G. Angel
“Grayson Clay!” The man smirked. He stood a little too close to our table, crowding our space. If he expected us to invite him to sit, he had another thing coming.
“Duncan,” Grayson replied frostily.
Hell, I’d thought Grayson was being unreceptive to me, but the look he was giving this guy made our interactions look positively rosy.
“I came by your studio, but you were not there. I want to commission a piece for my family estate. Maybe you could come spend the weekend to get a feel of it?”
Nice try, tiny dick!
I wrapped my arm around Grayson’s neck. Leaning into him, I rested my hand on his chest. “Oh, that sounds like fun, babe, a week in a real English estate.”
Grayson turned toward me, his eyes reflecting the confusion he felt.
I leaned in and gave him a quick peck on his lips, cursing the fact that I couldn't enjoy his luscious lips the way I wanted to.
“Follow my lead,” I whispered against his lips.
I looked up at the ginger. “Where’s the estate?”
He glared down at me. “And you are?”
Grayson cleared his throat. Picking up my hand, he kissed my palm, sending a quick message to my awakening cock.
Not now, Colossus! We have work to do.
“This is my boyfriend, Antoine,” he replied, kissing my hand again. He placed our hands on top of the table, leaving our fingers entwined.
I knew this was all a game and God knows I'd never wanted to be anyone's boyfriend, but Grayson…Grayson could make me reconsider.
“Boyfriend? I didn't know you had a boyfriend.”
Grayson shrugged. “You never asked and it didn't matter. It’s not like any of us are interested in dating.”
“Right…” The guy trailed off, clearly not buying our act.
Why was that? Was I not hot enough? Fuck it. I was fucking gorgeous and ginger git knew it! Grayson and I were a match made in fucking heaven.
Looking at me some more, the guy frowned. “I know you, don’t I?” he asked.
Taylor paled, but looked down at her drink.
“I don’t think so,” I replied stoically.
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure I've seen you somewhere. Do you go to art openings or something?”
Now it was my turn to pale. I was grateful for the low light and my naturally pale complexion though so nobody could see my worry. Maybe this guy was not completely full of shit. Maybe he really was into art and not only interested in getting Grayson naked.
But he was about to out me and I didn't want that. I wanted to keep being Grayson’s friend so that hopefully there would be a chance to be more.
I shook my head. “I probably just have one of those faces.”
“No, you really don’t,” the guy replied absentmindedly, the cogs of his brain turning in an attempt to place me. It was an accidental compliment and I knew that, but I was too worried to care.
“You’re hot, babe; we all know that,” Grayson replied and I was not sure if he meant it or if he was just playing the part.
“Gray?”
He turned toward me. I needed to change the subject, do anything to change the focus, so I decided to do the one thing I really wanted to do…. Kiss Grayson Clay.
I wrapped my hand around his neck, sliding my hand into his silky hair, and pulled him toward me.
I locked my lips with his, gently pulling on his bottom lip. He opened his mouth just enough to let me in, so I deepened our kiss, lightly, softly, until his tentative tongue met mine.
And suddenly, as our tongues battled for dominance, nothing existed anymore. Not the ginger prick, not Taylor, not the bar full of people, nothing. Only him, his lips on mine, his scruff on my cheek, the sweet taste of dark beer on his tongue.
I trailed my hand down the side of his neck, noticing that his racing pulse matched my own erratic heartbeat.
I had kissed a lot of men in my life. I loved to party, but kissing Grayson was something else. It was like I was being turned inside out, becoming an exposed nerve.
His hand tightened into a fist on my shirt, proving he was just as affected as I was.
Breathlessly, I broke the kiss and met his unfocused eyes.
“Damn, I got pregnant just looking at you two,” Taylor exclaimed, breaking the tension.
I looked up. The ginger prick was gone. At least he'd gotten the message and I'd gotten it too. Grayson and I - we would be explosive and dangerous for each other.
He probably realized the same because he abruptly stood up and walked away.
Taylor watched him go before looking back at me. Her eyes were not judgy or angry, just full of resignation and a little sadness.
“That kiss looked like a heartache,” she said, grabbing her glass of wine and finishing it in one gulp.
I looked away, focusing on the door Grayson had just escaped through. I didn’t deny it because she was right. And for once, I didn't know if it was my heart or his on the line…
Chapter Five
The rest of the week went by quite fast. Taylor was so busy with her internship and sociopathic boss that I barely saw her. As for Grayson, we saw each other fairly regularly. Despite him being busy with his painting deadline, we managed to spend at least a couple of hours a day together.
I'd even taken it upon myself to wake up before 10 a.m. every day, which was, in itself, an achievement. Nothing had ever stood between me and my twelve hours of sleep before.
It was something Taylor knew and met with a knowing smile despite her growing worry that Grayson and I were becoming attached. I wasn’t sure that was the case though because despite chatting with Grayson and sharing some glimpses of myself, I still had to hide two fundamental parts of myself - my social and closeted statuses. And that alone stopped me from really getting involved with him.
“You’re still here,” I exclaimed, unable to keep the genuine pleasure out of my voice as I walked into the kitchen.
I’d missed my alarm today because I’d stayed up way too late last night waiting for Grayson to come back from his painting session. Not that I'd admit it.
He chuckled, sliding a cup of steaming black coffee toward me. “Indeed. I didn't want to let you fend for yourself. It would have been cruel.”
“Uh huh.” I took a sip and sighed. Nothing soothed my soul more than a black coffee handed to me by Grayson Clay.
“I’m done...with the painting, I mean,” he added, buttering some toast, which I suspected was for me. Sexy man making me breakfast? I could totally get used to this!
“That’s amazing!” I knew he’d struggled in the end. “A week before schedule, isn’t it?”
Surprise flashed in his eyes as he arched his eyebrows. “You remembered?”
“I care,” I admitted and that was quite an exclusive feeling because except for T, my two favorite assholes, and princess Esme in Stonewood, I didn't care about much else.
He flashed me a smile before looking down to add some jam to his toast. His smile was lovely, showing his teeth. The tiny gap at the front made him just a little less perfect...or maybe more. I wasn't sure. His smile also gave him a dimple on his left cheek, sending conflicting and terrifying messages to both my heart and my cock.
He nodded. “Well, they are coming to pick it up this afternoon.” He handed me the plate with the toast. “That’s why I worked late.”
He met my eyes and I stilled with hope. Why was he justifying his absence to me?
“You- You didn’t wait up, did you?”
I cocked my head to the side. He sounded tentative, uncertain. This was a side of him I hadn't seen before.
“Not more than I was ready to,” I admitted evasively. I didn't need to say that I'd never waited on anyone in my life before him.
“I was thinking, since you guys are leaving tomorrow, maybe we can spend the evening, just the three of us? Watch some Netflix. Eat some pizza.”
I nodded. “Yes, that sounds like fun.” But believe me when I say T will no
t be there. I’ll put her in the best hotel in this fucking town if I need to. Tonight, Grayson Clay, it’s you and I.
Grayson left not long after that and I spent the rest of the afternoon packing and finding the perfect outfit for tonight. This was the first time I'd ever prepared an outfit for an evening at home.
Taylor came back mid-afternoon and announced that there was a big end of the year bash at the fashion agency she was interning for and that she'd scored me an invite.
I was pleased that I wouldn't have to negotiate with her to leave me alone with Grayson. She clearly worried about our involvement and this party was the perfect opportunity for me to spend some alone time with Grayson without having to ask her to leave.
She was suspicious of me for not attending. I couldn't blame her; I'd never refused to party before.
“Don’t do anything you or he will regret. He doesn't have the full picture,” she warned me.
“Who’s fault is that?” I barked defensively. Hurt flashed in her eyes. Truth be told, if Grayson had known who I really was, we probably never would have ended up on the path we were on now.
Shaking her head, Taylor left without a word. I stayed in the bedroom for a while, trying to let the guilt of my harsh words go. Sighing, I shot her a quick text.
I’ll behave. I’m sorry. I love you.
Any guilt was soon forgotten as I walked into the living room and found Grayson in sweatpants and a tight tee shirt. He was placing popcorn and napkins on the coffee table, getting everything ready for our evening.
After grabbing two beers, he turned toward me with a smile. “So let me get this straight -”
“Gayly forward.”
He snorted. “You passed a party with a lot of male models to spend the evening with little, old me?”
Didn’t he know how addicted to him I was? How the kiss I'd given him as a joke had turned on me in ways I hadn't expected?
“I did, yes. You invited me to spend the evening with you, right?”
“You know most of them are gay and ready to have fun,” he insisted as if he was testing my mental health.
“I do.”
“And you’re staying here with me to watch Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix?”
I nodded.
“Well, fuck me.”
I grinned. “I’m working on it.”
He let out a laugh, but it lacked humor; it was a little wistful. “There won’t be any fucking tonight, Antoine, love. I’m not doing that anymore. I want at least a shot of a future.”
“Ah, don’t spoil the ending! The anticipation is half the fun! Will he drop his pants? Won’t he?” I sighed dramatically.
He looked at me very seriously for a second and I hated that I'd spoiled our evening so early. Why was I the way I was?
“Are you going to give me that beer or are you intending to drink them both?” I asked, taking a step toward him.
“Depends on how you’re planning to behave,” he teased back.
“Awfully,” I replied, taking the beer from his hand and settling down on the sofa.
We'd managed to watch the first episode before the pizza arrived. I looked at it and winced. “You’re lucky you’re cute because this much meat on a pizza?”
He rolled his eyes. “Just try it.”
I had a slice and I had to admit it, it was better than what I'd anticipated.
I turned toward him. “You’re staring.”
“No, I'm waiting for feedback.”
I shrugged. “Not bad.”
He grinned, leaning back on his seat. “Bloody amazing.”
We were watching the second episode when I turned toward him because instead of looking at the TV, he was staring at me again.
I raised an eyebrow before taking another bite of my pizza.
He sighed. “Fine. I'm staring at you. Your eyes - They are mesmerizing. They speak to my soul. I could spend a thousand years studying them and I could never paint the color right.”
“Is this an artistic way of telling me I have pretty eyes?” I asked, putting my slice back in the box and sliding closer to him on the sofa.
He smiled, but kept his eyes on my face, unwavering and making me feel self-conscious. “I want to paint them, but I could never show the world how they make me feel, how you make me feel."
“And how do I make you feel?” I asked, leaning closer to him, my lips a breath away from his.
“Scared and brave. Elated and miserable. All at once.”
I leaned closer and kissed him, gently, tentatively.
Resting his hands on my shoulders, he pushed me away slightly. Despite having been forewarned that a casual fling was not his thing, I still felt the sting of rejection.
“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he whispered, his eyes not really focused on me. It felt like he was thinking out loud.
I wanted to tell him that I'd be back, that we had time, but did we? He made me feel things I’d never felt before. He made me want something real - something that despite my desire, I could not have.
Grayson Clay would never comply with being my dirty, little secret, but he was my most beautiful dream.
A dream I was selfish enough to seek, consequences be damned.
“I am.”
He nodded, pulling me by my shirt and kissing me with a passion I’d yet to experience, a passion strangely mixed with desperation. It was as if he expected a heartbreak at the end of the kiss.
It was all teeth and lips, and fuck me, it turned me inside out in ways that sex had never managed.
“I didn't want to regret it,” he said after breaking the kiss. Breathless, he rested his forehead against mine.
“Regret what?” I asked just as breathless.
“Letting you walk away without telling you, showing you, that the attraction is real and terrifyingly overwhelming.”
He stood up, extending his hand to me, his face still a mixture of desire and indecision. “Come on”.
I took his hand and followed him to his bedroom, only able to concentrate on his strong hand holding mine.
I barely registered the surroundings of the place, except that it was just like the man living in it - sparse and organized, almost more military than artist.
“I thought you said no sex tonight?” I let out, immediately wanting to punch myself unconscious just for saying that.
He chuckled, but it was a low, guttural sound. “There’s so many other things we can do.”
He pushed me gently when we reached his bed and I sat down, my cock hardening faster than it ever had.
He looked down at my jeans, which were leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Must be painful.”
My eyes locked on his pants and his matching erection. “Likewise.”
He smiled and sank down to his knees between my opened thighs. I stopped breathing, my heart skipping beats as his steady hands reached for the button of my pants.
His hands were fast and precise, his face determined. I was sure that my surge of desire made me look flushed.
I tightened my shaky hands on his grey comforter as he slowly pulled down my zipper. I was going to come right here before he even got a chance to touch me.
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine something, anything that would stop me from releasing in my pants. I winced at the image of my horrible grand-mère Jeanne. It did have its effectiveness though as I felt a bit more in control.
I almost grinned. What would that homophobic bigot think if she knew she was the image I'd conjured to stop myself from coming too soon at the hands of a British Apollo?
“Raise your hips for me,” he murmured.
I did as he asked, not fully in control of my body or my thoughts any longer. Everything was about him and his lips near my aching cock.
He pulled my pants and briefs to my knees, freeing Colossus from its restraint. The little smile spreading across his lips and the lustful glint in his eyes indicated his satisfaction at the view.
Yep, the nickname Colossus wa
s not false advertising.
“You don’t have to,” I let out in a breath, even though I genuinely thought I'd die if his lips were not around my girth in the next two seconds.
“I know I don’t.” He leaned closer, rolling his tongue across the head of my cock and licking away my precum. “But I really want to.”
Meeting my eyes, he spread my thighs wider. He leaned down and kissed up my legs, getting closer and closer to where I wanted him. My balls tightened and I had to stop myself from bucking my hips. I wanted him to get on with it, but I also enjoyed the teasing, the tenderness even in the heat of the moment.
I let out a loud moan mixed with a sigh when he pulled one of my balls into his mouth.
He switched to the other one while stroking my thighs with his hands. I started breathing hard when he managed to put both into his mouth at once. He tenderly licked me as he brought his hand up to my cock and started to stroke.
"Oh, Grayson!" I couldn’t say anything more. I was so lost in ecstasy. I'd never felt like this. Nobody had ever brought me this much pleasure. He was turning me on to the point I couldn't really say anything besides, "Oh Grayson!" as I kept voicing my pleasure.
He removed my balls from his mouth and started licking up my shaft. The tip of his tongue worked its way up the sensitive underside of my cock until it reached right under the ridge of my head.
“Please, just please,” I begged, doing my best to keep eye contact. His stimulation was torture.
I sighed with relief when he finally put his lips around the whole head of my cock and gently started to suck me.
I leaned on my forearm as he fondled my balls with one hand and slowly lowered his mouth over my entire length, getting it deep inside his mouth and down his throat.
Yes, I could die now. I’d die a happy man.
He slowly bobbed his head with fervor.
I began to buck my hips as he stroked the root of my cock with his hands and swallowed my shaft again.
Swirling his tongue wildly around the underside of my head, he drove me mad with desire. I was bucking my hips faster, harder while groaning and moaning shamelessly.
