Room for Rent

by Nicole Stewart

  He felt his cock probing the back of Caleb’s throat. The beat of blood rushing into his engorged member made him lightheaded. Caleb’s tongue rippled along the sensitive tip of his erection as he pulled back, staring into Mason’s eyes. Mason quaked. But he refused to let go. Not yet. He wanted this to last forever, and every time he arrested his orgasm, the pleasure grew more intense.

  He looked down at Caleb touching himself. His massive dick, dripping pre-cum, his hand sliding up and down fast, rubbing the natural lubricant around his pounding cock. Mason pulled Caleb’s head back by a fistful of his hair to kiss his taste off Caleb’s lips. Caleb pushed his damp finger between their lips so Mason could taste him, too.

  It should have been a turn-off. Instead, it made Mason want to love him more. He sucked Caleb’s finger the way the artist was sucking his dick. Caleb groaned and masturbated faster. Mason put his manhood back to Caleb’s mouth, and Caleb’s lips parted greedily. His head bobbed harder and faster at Mason’s pelvis as his hand flew around his own erection.

  Caleb lurched to his feet and shoved Mason to the wall, kissing him hard. His throbbing cock beat against Mason’s rippling abs. “Uhn! Mason,” Caleb growled. “Ah! Shit!” A gush of jizz exploded over his fist and rained over Mason’s quivering erection. Caleb clenched his jaw, but he could not stop it from happening. The pearls of ejaculate erupted in wave after wave of ecstasy, and he sobbed Mason’s name.

  Mason swam in pleasure as Caleb masturbated him with his jizz. Faster and faster. Mason shuddered. The climax he was holding in check almost released, and he cried out, ready for it. But the loud sound echoed in the alleyway. When the echo faded, they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching, and both men frantically looked to main street.

  Caleb spun away. Mason swiftly turned his back. “They heard us!” he hissed. His high crashed, and the climax arrested. Mason tried to adjust his clothes, but his impairment was obvious. His heart pounded in his chest. What if they got caught? There could be legal ramifications. His parents would find out. Bad scenarios flew through his head, and he stared at the sky, praying with all his might that the people would pass without investigating the noise. The steps finally receded.

  He gingerly cupped his erection and exhaled in relief.

  “They’re gone,” Caleb whispered.

  Mason’s body still thrummed. He was so hard that it hurt. He was still lightheaded, and now he was cold, when moments before he had been on fire. Caleb wrapped an arm around him from behind and kissed the side of his neck, bringing back the heat.

  Mason shifted closer with a need that brooked no argument, not even from the saner part of his brain. He grimaced when he felt Caleb’s erection against his ass.

  “I’m not done,” Caleb whispered.

  “We can’t, we’ll get caught.”

  Caleb’s shoulders slumped. He could not believe what he was hearing. They had been so close. At the last minute, Caleb had let go, expecting to take Mason to the same height of rapture, but they had been interrupted. “Are you catching the bus or will you let me drive you home this time?” he asked in a disappointed voice.

  “I’ll catch the bus, but wait a moment. I have to, let’s just say, deflate.”

  Mason gestured at himself, and Caleb met his gaze. Mason ducked his head, blushing. Caleb felt a spark of hope that there was maybe a chance.… “I can take care of that. Come to my apartment tonight,” he offered. Caleb slid his hand to Mason’s rigid cock, but Mason moved away and shook his head. So, the moment of bravado had truly passed. They were back to a reality where a moment of passion down a dark alley was a bad idea.

  “When we go back, we have to leave this behind us,” Mason asserted.

  Caleb looked down, and a wry half-smile touched his lips. “Of course. I guess this was just you rebelling a little, right? No sense expecting you to do what your nature dictates. That would be too revolutionary.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  “You understand what’s at stake,” Mason sighed. “There’s no way to hide this. If we take things any further my parents will find out.”

  “Look, I get it,” Caleb stopped him. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Trust me, it’ll be like this never happened. I’ll continue painting seascapes that will never sell and you’ll find something to like about your pretty little fake girlfriend. Fair enough.” He spread his arms in defeat.

  “No, it won’t ever be fair, and I will never get enough of you, but this is it.”

  Caleb stepped forward as his heart beat faster, knowing he needed more.

  “This doesn’t have to be it. Be my muse, Mason. We can hide this. Your parents won’t suspect anything if we’re working together on my art.”

  Mason smiled sadly and shook his head. “It cannot be.”

  The next evening, Caleb powered up the volume and the dramatic Carl Orff cantata powered through his speakers. His tight, usually neat brushstrokes took on an untidy quality as he painted his view of the sea beyond the Sinclair backyard. His brows furrowed, and his hand flew ever faster, matching the drums and horns; yet, he heard nothing of the Carmina Burana. He heard Mason telling him the madness in the alley was fleeting, an aberration.

  Something burned within Caleb to return to that night and take Mason so far beyond his comfort zone that he would be changed forever. He threw his brush across the room and watched red paint splatter the white sofa. With a savage curse, he kicked away the stool in front of the easel and stomped over to examine the damage.

  “Turpentine,” he muttered. He grabbed a rag and the paint thinner to clean up his mess, wondering why real life was not as easy to fix. Caleb labored over the upholstery until all that was left was a tiny smudge. He needed a break.

  He dropped into a club chair, turned on his tablet and pulled up the artist Gregoire had mentioned. Images of the artist’s work populated the screen. Caleb covered his lips and stared. The paintings could have been lifted straight from his old portfolio. The similarities were so strong that he saw some of his own works among the search results.

  “What the hell?” he whispered.

  Caleb jabbed a link to an interview and skimmed past the high praise heaped on the young artist. The similarities did not stop at style. Vido Charles was nineteen. Gregoire DeSimone had found him in a student show at LaGuardia High. Unlike Caleb, Vido had no intention of furthering his art education. He planned to keep things raw and unpolished.

  Caleb pressed play on the video embedded in the article. “Can we guess who inspires you?” the interviewer laughed. Vido chuckled and shrugged.

  “It’s no secret that I look up to Caleb O’Hara. He inspired most of my stuff. Um, Rupi Kapur and Genieve Figgis, influence me to a lesser extent but, Caleb O’Hara is definitely the main man.”

  “What would you say differentiates you from him?”

  “Well, for starters, I plan to have a longer career,” Vido joked. Caleb’s jaw tightened as he continued watching the clip. “I think what happened with my idol is that he lacked the confidence to pursue his own vision. When you look at something by Figgis, you get lost in her world. O’Hara used to have that effect, but his later stuff keeps you at arm’s length. I don’t know if that makes sense, but…”

  Caleb muttered to the tablet, “It fucking well doesn’t, you jumped up little prick.”

  “So, you don’t think there’s anything for you at any of the universities,” the interviewer pressed.

  “No,” Vido replied without hesitation. “I don’t want to be professional. I want to be rough, unpolished. I want my art to grab you by the throat. People fail by trying to perfect something that does not need to be—in fact, should not be—perfect.”

  Caleb stopped the video with shaking hands. He calmly set aside the tablet for fear he would smash it against a wall. He needed a muse. He needed to make a comeback. Vido Charles talking about him as if his has-been status was all but written in stone was just too much to bear. The urge to prove his critics wrong
was now too strong to ignore.

  He considered placing another ad, this time for a model. Caleb knew he was deluding himself. No one else would do. If Gregoire, Vido Charles and the rest wanted raw emotion, only one person could help Caleb deliver that.

  Mason opened the door and Caleb immediately saw the discomfort etched on the other man’s features. “What are you doing here? I thought you were my mom or dad.”

  “I need to talk to you,” he said in a rush.

  Mason peered up and down the hall and pulled him into the room, locking the door behind him. “Make it quick. I’m in the middle of a complicated project for a client.”

  Caleb lit up as he realized he had been presented with an opening. “How is the work coming along? Are you making the kind of money you want to make?”

  Mason smiled and crossed his arms. “Things will pick up eventually. As long as I don’t keep getting interrupted.”

  “What if I told you there’s a way for you to reach your target amount for a gap year abroad without having to slave away for next to nothing? What if, instead of working a year to save up for the trip, you work for half a year, and I cover the difference so you can get going sooner?”

  Caleb knew that to do what he was suggesting would mean tapping into the savings he had sworn not to touch. For four years, he had slowly grown the account to buy back his childhood home in Idaho, the place where his earliest memories were locked away. Caleb had always believed that if he lived in the house again, he would remember more about his late mother. But having Mason was worth losing the house, besides, there was always the chance he would make enough to recoup the loss.

  “I’m listening.”

  Caleb spread his arms. “I want to pay you to sit for me.”

  “What?” Mason chuckled.

  “Not to be my muse,” Caleb said in a hurry. “To actually work with me. We’ll keep things professional. You have no idea how much I need you.” Caleb bit his lip and looked down. The words, though true, had not come out the right way. “Professionally I mean, I need you to help me professionally.”

  Mason touched his lips with two fingers. “It looks like we need each other…”

  Mason rubbed his thumb over Caleb’s soft bottom lip, remembering their time in the alley. The touch was not supposed to be erotic, but the vivid flashbacks took it there. Caleb whispered, “Don’t tease me.” Mason pressed his middle finger into his mouth. Caleb moaned and sucked him deeper.

  Pleasure fluttered at Mason’s core as his eyes darted toward the locked bedroom door. What if his parents decided to pay a late-night visit? He had so much work to do….

  Caleb sucked his finger into his mouth, and every reason they should stop went up in flames.

  Mason hit the light switch. They came together in a kiss that screamed desire. Caleb’s arms slowly encircled him, as if giving him time to change his mind, but this time Mason did not want a reason to say no. He surrendered to the wonder of Caleb’s mouth.

  “I thought you said we shouldn’t,” Caleb challenged, breathing heavily.

  Mason took off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. His head fell back as Caleb gripped his throat and kissed him down his torso. His hot, wet tongue twirled around a nipple, and Mason hissed in a breath. He backed toward the bed with Caleb eagerly following. Caleb jerked down Mason’s pajamas pants.

  Mason hit the mattress, thrusting his pelvis upward, seeking the forbidden fruit of Caleb’s hot mouth. His erection speared through the hole of his boxers. Caleb got rid of those, too. Mason sighed with rapture as Caleb’s tongue dipped into the well of his navel. He stroked Caleb’s hair back to watch as he fluttered kisses over his tense abs and nipped at his hips, making him flinch. Mason pushed him lower.

  Caleb buried his face in the soft black curls of his pubic hair and inhaled deeply. When he lifted his head, his eyes were filled with lust. Mason guided his cock to Caleb’s mouth. “Yes!” he whimpered when it finally happened. Caleb swallowed him whole, picking up where they left off in the alley.

  Sounds of ecstasy spilled from Mason’s lips. He worried they would be heard, and dragged a pillow over his face to mute his sobs as he writhed against him. He clutched a fistful of Caleb’s hair, ramming deeper. In and out, he rocked. Caleb exhaled around his shaft and pulled back, trailing spit. As he swallowed him again, Mason’s body threatened to explode.

  He had done nothing to take the edge off after the trip down the alley the night before. He had only sat in his room, working, reminiscing, wanting. Now he felt like he would disintegrate from the delayed rapture. Caleb bobbed fluidly up and down as his fingers chased the path of his mouth. He eased a hand beneath Mason and fondled his asshole, shocking him further.

  Mason squeezed his eyes shut and rode Caleb’s tongue faster. “Caleb!” he gasped into the pillow.

  Groaning, Caleb wrapped his arms under Mason’s thighs and pulled him closer. Mason’s legs opened wider. Caleb sucked and kissed his way past his balls. The wet spear of his tongue dipped places where it did not belong. Mason shoved away the pillow to watch in awe. He could hardly believe he was letting it happen. He clutched a fistful of the sheets, hips rising off the mattress involuntarily as his body tensed.

  Caleb probed in and out with his tongue, to Mason’s excitement and dismay, and the silky kisses left him saturated. His cock strained, quivering in the air. Caleb encircled his rigid shaft. With a deft flick of his wrist, he masturbated Mason and brought a pearl of jizz to the tip of his erection.

  Mason jerked away from him and dragged Caleb to his lips, kissing him desperately. Their sounds of excitement blended. Mason climbed on top of him and clutched Caleb’s erection, burying his face in Caleb’s shoulder as he masturbated him. Caleb cupped the back of his neck and let out an erotic moan. Mason stroked him faster as he lowered his mouth, curious and anxious at the same time.

  He closed his eyes and let his tongue glide over the smooth, blunt head of Caleb’s dick. Tasting the tangy, salty flavor of his skin, Mason sighed greedily and took him deeper into his mouth.

  Caleb caressed Mason’s face and guided his mouth back and forth. Caleb’s scent filled his nostrils, and Mason sucked more aggressively, while using his hand to masturbate him at the same time.

  Caleb bucked Mason off himself and eased him onto his stomach to continue his original onslaught. Mason’s hard-on throbbed against the bed as his body danced to the rhythm of Caleb’s tongue diving into the recess of his ass. Caleb nipped and kissed from cheek to cheek, diving his tongue into Mason’s body as he swished his mouth from side to side.

  When he eased a finger into the tight hole, Mason swallowed a scream and bit down on the sheets. He had expected pain as opposed to the glorious sensation that shot through him. His hips pumped faster as he followed Caleb’s mouth and finger. It was bliss and Mason wanted so much more.

  Lubricant spilled into his crease, and Caleb rubbed it in with his thumb. The slippery liquid spilled between Mason’s legs and soaked the bed. Mason knew that if he wanted things to stop, now was the time to make the call. He heard a condom wrapper being torn open and rose on his knees, leaning back against Caleb’s hard thighs and harder erection.

  Caleb leaned over Mason’s back to breathlessly suck and kiss his neck. Mason allowed Caleb to use his fingers to stretch and massage his body to readiness. Mason tried to relax and accept events, but his heart raced and sweat beaded along his back and shoulders. When Caleb eased his cock to the entrance, Mason understood this was the point of no return, this rapture happening too quickly for him to find the will to say no.

  Whispers of yes spilled from his lips as he gritted his teeth, and the pressure built. Suddenly, the pain seemed too much to bear; yet, the thrill made him surrender to Caleb’s desire. Caleb rocked back and forth against him, pushing deeper with every thrust. When he was half-way inside, when the torment reached its zenith, Mason hitched in a breath and sobbed.

  Caleb quickly kissed his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him as he rocked d
eeper. His mouth fluttered over Mason’s feverish skin in sweet distraction. His hand slid beneath them to stroke Mason’s quivering cock. Then, the pain gradually receded to a mellow ache that floated Mason to a height so dizzying, that he feared the fall. But he was falling. The act of yielding so intimately was testament.

  Mason closed his eyes and uttered a sultry moan as Caleb’s erection pumped in and out of his tight sheath. “My God, you’re amazing,” Caleb groaned vulnerably. Mason buried his face in the pillows, melting in his lover’s arms.

  Caleb was plunging into the tightest, sweetest heaven. He gasped for air and drowning in desire. As Mason’s body yielded, the pleasure intensified. Caleb grunted and gripped his hips. He shook his hair out of his eyes to see the pale, slender back arching as Mason rocked against him. Caleb sucked in a breath in wonder. Why? Why was this better than anything he had ever experienced?

  He screamed through clenched teeth as his cock disappeared to the hilt. Mason’s muscular ass gripped him tighter. When the writer glanced over his shoulder, and their eyes met, Caleb felt conflicted. He knew what this was—a fling—and what it meant—things were about to get complicated—but he wanted this to happen with every fiber of his being.

  His blunt nails dug into Mason’s shoulder. He held him in place and stroked long and deep, hips rolling in waves that sent ecstasy slicing through them both. Caleb guided Mason back and forth in a ballet of arousal. They kept mostly silent as they both wanted to prolong the pleasure. If Mason’s parents heard them, there would be hell to pay.

  Mason whispered his new lover’s name with a newfound urgency. The darkness behind Caleb’s closed eyes swirled with neon colors like smoke and fire. His ears rang and his body disconnected from his head. There was no sense trying to keep control. He was losing it.