Creative Process

by Jodi Payne

  “Oh my God. I’m going to have an orgasm over your linens.” Owen started to undress.

  Reese laughed and did the same. “I hope you have several. Come on.” Once they reached the wide bathroom door, Reese hit a couple of buttons on a little box on the wall and music filled the entire suite, the bass thumping and driving a like a nightclub dance mix.

  “Oooh.”

  Reese grinned. He thought it was pretty cool too. “That’s the shower,” he said, pointing to a glassed-in box at the far end of the L-shaped bathroom.

  “Whoa.” Owen sauntered down to check it out, and Reese tried to watch his ass and dig around for towels at the same time. It didn’t work, and he finally had to give up and look at what he was doing. Finding what he was really looking for, he pulled a condom from the box secreted just inside the door. He turned around when he heard the water running, holding two thick towels draped over one arm and the condom between his fingers, and moved toward the shower. Owen was testing out the body jets, already standing under the rainfall showerhead. Reese stood just outside the glass, watching the water run over Owen’s shoulders, across his chest, and down his ass. Quickly, he ripped open the condom and rolled it on with a groan. He was harder than he’d realized.

  “Jesus, you’re just… stunning,” he said, hearing the roughness in his own voice.

  Owen opened his eyes and turned to face Reese, treating Reese to an exquisite view of his own rigid cock. “Say that again?” Owen asked, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

  Reese opened the shower door and stepped in. “You’re stunning.”

  “Again,” Owen breathed, reaching for Reese.

  Reese stepped close, wrapping one arm around Owen’s back. “Stunning. Breathtaking. I want you so badly it hurts.”

  “Yeah.” Owen was rolling his hips gently, working his erection against Reese’s hip.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  “Yes, yes. Reese, I want you.”

  “Tell me what you need,” Reese ordered.

  “I need you to fuck me, Reese. Please.” Owen turned in Reese’s arms and pressed his ass into Reese’s hips, making him groan.

  “Ah. Jesus, Owen.” Reese quickly filled one palm with lube from a pump dispenser on the wall and ran the fingers of his other hand over Owen’s torso and over his hips. Owen braced his hands on the shower wall and arched into Reese’s touch. Despite his own urgency, Reese took the time to ready Owen with a couple of slippery fingers. “That’s it.” Reese slicked himself quickly, lined up, and pushed in. Owen hissed and pressed back for more, practically forcing Reese to move, urging him to pump his hips fast and hard. Owen’s head dropped and hung on his shoulders, and he moved his feet even farther apart.

  “More!”

  Reese wasn’t sure where he was supposed to get “more” from, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try. He slammed his hips forward and heard Owen cry out, so he did it again. He felt his climax stirring and reached around to grip Owen and coax him along as well, letting Owen slide through his fist as he thrust.

  “No! Oh nonono, wait! Wait, not yet….”

  But Reese didn’t listen. He knew he wasn’t going to hang on long, and Owen was damn well taking this journey with him.

  “Oh, fuck it, so good!”

  Reese was breathing heavily himself now, everything in his body growing tense like a rubber band about to snap. He took a breath and barked a deep-voiced order in Owen’s ear. “Now!”

  Owen gasped loudly, and Reese felt Owen go up on his toes, felt his lover’s body start to shudder, and then hot liquid soaked his fist. Part of him wanted to burst into smug laughter, but most of him was feeling Owen’s ass grip him and just wanted to come. Right fucking now. Oh fuck. He grunted heavily, and every ounce of his desire for Owen shot right through him.

  TIME WAS a big blur after that. With the urgency gone, the two of them showered for a long while, enjoying the steamy warmth and the body jets, touching and kissing and whispering things that Owen could only vaguely remember, building up slowly this time to another incredible set of orgasms.

  They’d passed out eventually, until sometime in the wee hours when Owen woke, slipped on a robe he found at the foot of the bed, and went in search of water. The apartment was fairly dark, though the lights from the city streets below made it easy enough for Owen to find a glass in the kitchen and fill it.

  He wandered through Reese’s living room. The apartment was amazing, even in the darkness. He’d done a little research and discovered that Reese’s latest book was on the bestseller list, and the two before that had been as well, and it showed. It wasn’t that anything was ostentatious—well, anything but the bedroom anyway—but Reese certainly could afford some of the finer things, as it were. Owen made his way over to the window and looked out while he sipped his water. Damn, there was a good view of the city from twenty-eight stories up.

  His mind wandered over their really wonderful evening. The dinner conversation had flowed easily from art, to music, to politics, to movies, and back around to art again, and Owen felt very accepted by everyone. The fact that Reese was involved with such a great group of people said a lot about Reese himself. Still, what Sam had said about Reese’s other lovers still stuck with him. He wished he’d understood what Sam was trying to tell him, or that he’d had time to ask before Sam was called away to the kitchen. Why the hell anyone casually brought up other people’s exes was beyond him. It felt so… well, it didn’t feel good.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, watching the lights change at intersections, the cabs driving through dark streets, and airplanes flying overhead when he heard Reese’s voice.

  “You okay?”

  Owen looked away from the window at the tall, dark silhouette headed in his direction. He held up his glass. “Thirsty.”

  Reese nodded. “You stole my robe.” Owen let Reese put warm hands around his shoulders and kiss him.

  “Sorry?” Owen grinned.

  Reese had pulled on what looked like gym shorts in the semidarkness. “Gonna get some water too. You’re welcome to have something stronger.”

  Owen laughed. “No, no. I think I had plenty earlier.”

  Reese chuckled and moved away toward the kitchen. “Yeah, me too.” Owen heard him clunking around, opening and closing cabinets. “So,” Reese said smoothly. “You’re my boyfriend, now, huh?”

  Owen could not tell at all what Reese’s tone meant, so he hedged a bit. “Oh, that.”

  “Well, yes. That.” Reese came back over. “Should we talk about it?”

  “Listen, I didn’t introduce myself that way. They just assumed.”

  “They do that.” Reese nodded.

  “I mean, not that I minded I guess, but—”

  “But it’s too soon?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Do you want to be?” Reese asked him.

  Owen looked at him. Oh, boy. Serve, volley. “Do you want me to be?”

  Reese chuckled. Owen loved the silky sound of it. “Didn’t your mother teach you it was impolite to answer a question with a question?”

  “Sorry?” Owen offered.

  “That’s a question too.”

  Owen snorted. Match point. “Fine, then. Yes. I do.”

  “Okay. That terrifies me.”

  Uh-oh. Wrong choice? “It does?”

  “Yes. Because I do too.”

  Owen grinned, running a finger down Reese’s chest. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Be patient with me. But I want to.”

  “Want to what?” Owen teased.

  “Want to, you know.”

  “Say it.” Tables turned. This was too much fun.

  “Why?”

  “You can’t say it, can you?” Owen teased.

  “Of course I can.”

  “So?”

  Reese sighed. “Fine. I want to be your boyfriend. Your slightly terrified boyfriend.”

  Owen laughed and kissed him. “Well, that’s settled, t
hen.” Owen was admittedly a little concerned about how easily they’d agreed even though they’d never had a real date before tonight, but “boyfriend” implied exclusivity, and that was more than fine with him.

  “For now.” Reese seemed to grow a bit tense and stepped away to sit on the couch.

  Ah, yes. And then there was whatever Reese was sorting out that had sent him running from Owen’s apartment that first night. Something that was apparently still haunting him. “For now?”

  “Someone tonight mentioned my track record, I’m sure.”

  Track record? Owen watched him. Well, Reese opened the door, so Owen decided to jump right through it. “No, but Sammy told me that I am different than your other lovers.” Owen moved over and sat down on the couch with Reese.

  Reese groaned. “I’m sure he meant well.”

  “Maybe, but he didn’t elaborate. I don’t really know what he meant.”

  “Hm. Maybe he thinks we actually have a chance.” Reese rubbed his face, and Owen’s brow furrowed.

  “What do you mean maybe we have a chance? Of course we do. We have one because we say we have one. What do your exes have to do with that?” He realized he’d become a bit more emotional about this than he probably should be, but for some reason Sammy’s comment was really bothering him.

  Reese slid a hand over Owen’s knee. “Yeah. Well. You remember how I was today when I answered the door?”

  Owen nodded. “Yeah.” That had been pretty shocking at first. There was a moment where he’d almost turned around and gone home. He wasn’t at all sure where Reese was going with this, so he decided to tread lightly. “That was… unexpected.”

  “Well, that’s the point. You should probably be prepared. It happens. I lose track of time; sometimes my mind is somewhere else when it shouldn’t be; I disappear into my office for hours—even days once in a while. I’ve never known anyone… been with anyone who could handle it. That I didn’t end up hurting.”

  Owen leaned on Reese but didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. That had to be what Sam meant. Owen had an artist’s view, a creative career of his own that might—had—caused similar issues for him as well. Though not to such an extreme.

  “What did your last lover do for a living?” Owen asked, curious.

  “He was an attorney.”

  Good theory so far. “And the one before that?”

  Reese didn’t seem to have any idea where Owen was going with these questions. His brow furrowed and he looked at Owen. “He was a financial planner—like a wealth management guy. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  Bingo.

  Reese shook his head but didn’t push the issue, and Owen was glad for that. He wasn’t sure what exactly he would say. But he thought he was beginning to understand Sam’s point now. Neither of Reese’s last two lovers had a creative bent. Maybe, in Reese’s case, it took one to really know one.

  “And you?” Reese asked. “How about your last lover?”

  Well. Owen could have done without that question. “He was an asshole.”

  Reese laughed. “Really? Was that a salaried position?” Owen punched Reese in the arm. “Ow! Did he have a good benefits package? Ow! Ouch!” Reese was laughing, and Owen laid into him playfully, punching and poking. Reese finally gathered up both of Owen’s hands in his. “Seriously. Tell me.”

  Owen looked at Reese. “He played the piano. He was an accompanist.”

  “And that made him an asshole?”

  “No.” Owen gave Reese a pointed look. “Cheating on me made him an asshole.”

  “Oh.” Reese reached for his water. “Yeah, it would.” He took a long gulp.

  “Yep.” Owen sighed. The silence after that hung heavily between them. “So, that was a buzzkill.”

  Reese shifted in his seat, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned back in the sofa. “Well, listen, Owen. Since you’re obviously the jealous type I should really warn you, I could have three or four different women in my bed every night if I wanted to.” Reese gave Owen a smug look and nodded.

  “Gee, really?”

  “Yep. Easy. I have fangirls everywhere. Ask Chad.”

  “Wow. I am going to have to watch my back, then.” And just like that, Owen was smiling again.

  “Yep. I’m telling you, I’m a popular guy. A wanted man. Women line up for hours just for my signature.” Reese’s smug chauvinist act made Owen giggle. “Lucky for you, women scare me.”

  Owen laughed. “Lucky for me!”

  Reese chuckled. “All right, Mr. Pensive.” Reese sat up and gave Owen’s knee a pat. “I better get back to bed. I do have to write tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” Owen agreed. “I’ve got rehearsal tomorrow night, and I need to practice beforehand.”

  They got up and shuffled back into the bedroom hand in hand. Owen felt much better about everything. And he was sure his sore ass would feel better by morning too. Wow. What a fucking perfect night.

  Chapter IX

  OWEN ADJUSTED his music stand, squinting slightly at the cello line. He was doing that more and more lately. This getting old thing sucked. Not that he was anything close to old at twenty-eight, but his eyes felt it sometimes. All those skinny black lines could blur together on a bad day. Maybe he should look into something just for the music stand.

  He shifted in his chair, getting comfy, checking his posture, his hand position, his grip on the bow, and a million other little details that were completely unconscious and as natural as breathing after so many years of practice.

  He counted off the time out loud and started in on the piece. It was a quick and dirty sight-read and far from perfect, but the first time through a piece he just liked to get the notes down, understand the rhythm, figure out where the rough spots were. He stopped and tried a really challenging phrase again, majorly fumbling the fingering. It was a tricky rhythm, and he marked it to remind himself to pay attention. He started to play it one more time, but the next-door neighbor’s dog started barking and threw him off.

  A deep breath, and he tried again.

  More barking.

  Oh, come on. Really? A dog? If he’d known about that, he wouldn’t have moved into this place. Nothing threw him out of a piece like random noise.

  He’d just started over, trying to ignore the dog, when there was a rap at his door. He was about to get up, but his neighbor helpfully yelled through the door at him to keep it the hell down, saving him the trouble of having to have a conversation with her at all.

  Sorry, bitch.

  Owen shook it off and started to play again. Not one minute later the dog was losing its shit, and his neighbor was banging. Owen shot out of his seat and stormed over to the door. He yanked it open. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. An older woman, short and with a round, pinched face, blinked up at him.

  “Can you keep that noise down? You’re driving my dog crazy,” she complained.

  Noise?

  “Can you keep your dog quiet? He’s making it impossible for me to concentrate.” Owen closed the door in her face. It wasn’t the first time he’d lived in a building with thin walls, but somehow he’d thought moving into a better neighborhood and spending a bit more money on rent would make him better off, not worse.

  Owen pulled out his cell and made some calls, but no one had a practice room available on short notice. He was trying not to panic, but he seriously had to have this piece in hand by his evening rehearsal. He’d just slid back into his chair, ready to grit his teeth and get through it, when a thought occurred to him. Owen pulled out his phone again and dialed Reese, hoping he would forgive the interruption.

  And that he didn’t answer the phone like a bloodthirsty psychopath.

  “Hey, you.”

  A little piece of Owen melted. Reese’s greeting was so sweet. “Hey, lover.”

  “Oh, I like that. Use that more often,” Reese purred at him.

  Owen smiled, filing that away for another time. “I will. Sadly, tho
ugh, that’s not why I called. I need a favor.”

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  “You can say no—I know you’re working.”

  “Owen, what is it?”

  Owen launched into his request. “Do you think I could bring my cello over and practice at your place?” He really needed Reese to say yes. It was that or fight with the dog lady all afternoon and risk his job. “I’m sorry to have to ask, but the lady next door is a bitch and her yappy little dog is an ass and I’ve called around but no one has practice rooms available on short notice, and I have to get this piece under my belt before rehearsal tonight or—”

  “Whoa. Whoaaaaa,” Reese interrupted. “Stop talking and just get over here.” Owen was pretty sure he was laughing. Thank God.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  “Yes! Thank you!”

  “I’ll send a car.”

  “No, no. I’ll Uber it. But thank you, thanks!” Owen hung up the phone.

  AFTER SPENDING the next ten minutes scurrying around his apartment cleaning up, Reese decided maybe he should take five minutes to straighten himself up as well. Pants were a good idea, and he figured he should brush his teeth too. He shaved, combed his hair, and put on a white T-shirt over his jeans.

  Owen was at his door in record time, and after a brief and relatively chaste kiss in the foyer, Reese took him back to the living room. “I was thinking you could try that spot over there by the bookcase,” he suggested. “Natural light and all. Make yourself at home and grab any chair you like.”

  Owen set his cello down where Reese suggested. “Thanks again. I know you also have work to do. I was just at my wit’s end with this woman and her fucking dog.” He did look at his wit’s end, actually.

  “It’s fine. I’ll be in the office behind a closed door. Once I’m writing, I won’t hear anything anyway.”

  “I owe you dinner. Like, I’ll make you dinner. Soon.”

  “Deal.” He kissed Owen again. “There’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself to the fridge or whatever too.” He turned and headed off to his office, afraid if he lingered any longer neither of them would get anything done that afternoon.