by Megan Slayer
He’d wait for Trace in the lobby. Dipping the brush in the water, he wiped it on a paper towel. At a knock at the door, he trotted across the room, peering through the privacy window. His doorman stood on the other side.
“Hey, Bruce.” He flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. “What’s up?”
“You have a visitor.” He retrieved the image on his phone of Trace in the lobby. “Trace Robeson. We don’t recognize him.”
“You can add him to my guest list.” Jeremy grinned. “He’s a close friend.”
“You got it. I’ll bring him up.” The bellman trotted back down the hall and disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.
Jeremy whipped around and noticed the state of his apartment—messy. He’d left clothes on the floor and his dinner untouched on the table. Not a problem. The cold chicken and mixed veggies ended up in the garbage and the clothes found their way to the clothes bin.
Another knock echoed. Anticipation slid through his veins. Time to lay his body, heart, and soul on the line for Trace to take.
***
Trace checked his bag one more time. He’d picked up a couple boxes of rubbers and a big bottle of lube. Never let it be said he wasn’t prepared. In a short while he’d be at Jeremy’s. Thinking about his lover made his heart swell.
The buzzer outside his apartment sounded. He wasn’t expecting company.
“Trace, I know you’re home.”
He stopped cold. Go figure Yancy would show up. He could stay in his apartment and avoid his ex or confront the son of a bitch and move on with his life. Moving on sounded like a great idea.
“Don’t bellow my name,” he snapped, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to get back with you.” Yancy tried to shove his way into the apartment. “You still want me.”
“No, I don’t.” Trace blocked his forward motion. “You cheated on me. I don’t give second chances to cheaters. Got me?”
“I want you.” Yancy pawed the air, reaching for Trace. “Don’t go out with that pussy. You need me.”
“I need you to leave.” He backed his ex up to the doorway. Across the hall, his neighbor’s door opened a crack, then wider. Lloyd, a cop and good friend of Trace’s, nodded from inside his apartment.
He had a witness. Thank God.
“I’m not leaving. You’re mine.” Yancy pawed at him again and connected with Trace’s chest. Rage burned in his eyes and his lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, if I can’t have you, neither can he.” He cocked his arm and plowed his fist into Trace’s face.
Pain splintered through his skull and he gritted his teeth. If he’d ever had any thoughts of taking Yancy back, the assault would have changed his mind. “Leave me,” he shoved him back, forcing him to retreat, “alone.”
Lloyd surged out of his apartment. “I’ve got a better idea. Trace, if you want to press charges for assault, I’ll haul his ass in.”
“Bullshit,” Yancy growled and lunged a second time, burying his fist in Trace’s stomach.
“That’s enough.” Lloyd tackled him to the ground. Trace stepped out of the cop’s way as he hefted Yancy to a standing position and snapped handcuffs on him. “I hate bullies and you’re the worst.”
Ten minutes later, Lloyd’s partner arrived and both men read Yancy his rights. Trace leaned on the doorframe of his apartment, enjoying the arrest.
With the cops in charge, his ex whimpered. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said and began to sob. “We were meant to be together.”
“Never again.” Trace dipped his head. His nightmare was over.
Half an hour later, he stood outside Jeremy’s door and shifted his weight from left foot to right. The bellman said he’d been approved to use the elevator—whatever that meant. He caught his reflection in the glass covering a painting in the hallway. His face hurt and he preferred not to show anyone the result of his meeting with Yancy.
The knob jiggled then the door opened. “Hey.” His lover smiled, but the gesture faded to shock. “What happened?” He grasped Trace by his upper arms and dragged him into the apartment. “Who hit you?”
His shoulders sagged and he sighed. “Remember Yancy, the guy from the club? Well, he invited himself to my place. He started things, and I ended them.”
Jeremy guided him to the couch, sitting opposite him. “Start at the beginning.”
Trace snorted. He rather liked when Jeremy took control and handled the situation. “Yancy was a mistake. I broke things off with him because he cheated on me. He trolls the clubs and when he bumped into me, he tried to hook up again. This last time, he saw me with you.” Trace sighed. “You’ve got security here. I’m not so lucky. He showed up at my apartment. I told him to go and he didn’t. He wanted me back and when I said no he connected his fist with my face. I got the last laugh though—my neighbor is a cop who witnessed the whole thing. I defended myself and Yancy’s spending tonight in jail for assault.” His stomach churned. Of all the times to screw things up...he had Yancy there to make things worse.
Jeremy rubbed Trace’s thigh. “I’m glad and I kind of understand how he feels. The moment we met, I knew we’d have some sort of relationship. After our date, I knew it wouldn’t be just friendship. You made me realize I’m strong on my own, but I don’t want to live without you. He knows he lost out on a great guy and can’t let go. Crazy, huh?”
“A little, but I like it.” The rest of the past faded when he looked into Jeremy’s eyes. A shiver ran the length of his spine and his cock thickened behind his zipper. He groaned and adjusted his jeans to take some of the pressure off his dick.
“I love you, Trace.” Jeremy held his palms up. “I know, I know. It’s fast, but I do. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more.” Standing, he gripped the sheet on a nearby canvas. “I want to show you something.” He ripped the covering off.
Trace’s heart lodged in his throat. The image, a man in the nude, sleeping and stretched across a bed, filled the middle of the canvas. Bright colors ringed the figure and an abstract heart loomed large in the frame. The more he looked at the work of art, the more he appreciated signing up for the date.
“So?” Jeremy shrugged one shoulder and his cheeks turned a deep red.
“I love it. And you.” Trace leapt from the couch and threw his arms around his lover. “I brought supplies for tonight, but I’m thinking this night calls for non-traditional again.” He tapped the lid of the closest bottle of paint. “This won’t burn skin, right?”
Jeremy’s eyes lit up. “It’s acrylic. Perfectly safe and dries faster.”
“Cool.” He walked them to the nearest stool and eased Jeremy down. “I want you naked.” He latched onto his mouth and hooked his fingers into the hem of his shirt. Jeremy moaned, breaking the connection only long enough to push his hands away and rip the garment over his head.
“Nice.” Trace nipped his bottom lip then tugged him to his feet. He thrust his hands into the waistband of his jeans. The button popped loose and the zipper parted. Shoving the pants to the floor, he wrapped both hands around Jeremy’s cock.
Another moan escaped Jeremy. “Needed this. Need you.”
Trace stepped backward and raked his gaze over him. “I’m going to cover you in those gorgeous paints of yours, smear the colors together, then drag the brushes over you until you scream.”
“Hell, yeah.” He stood long enough to step out of his boxer briefs and widened his stance. “I’m yours.”
“Love you.” Trace kissed him once more. Squeezing a tube of blue paint, he slathered the paint over Jeremy’s muscled chest with his fingertips. He smeared more into the crevices and hard lines of his torso and thighs.
Each touch brought another groan from Jeremy. He gritted his teeth and tipped his head back. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?” Trace picked up one of the fat brushes and dragged the soft bristles down his lover’s arm. At the same time, he bit and licked an earlobe. “So fucking sexy.”
Red
paint mixed with the blue, creating a delicious shade of purple. “One of these times,” Trace said between strokes, “I should find some nipples clips. Would you like that?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy’s voice dipped low and rumbled.
“Or maybe a nice cock ring? Something snug?” Trace knelt at his feet and tossed the brush onto the floor. He glanced up and flattened his tongue along the underside of his hard dick.
“Shit.” Jeremy wobbled on his feet. “Do that again.”
“I plan to.” With one hand at the base of his cock, Trace opened his mouth wide and sucked on the blunt head. Salty precum filled his mouth and he hummed.
“Jesus.” Jeremy lurched forward and braced his feet. “More.”
Like he could tell the man no. Trace continued to lick and suck on his erection, tasting every inch. He nibbled on the soft skin of Jeremy’s balls and speared one finger between his ass cheeks to toy with his asshole. Jeremy clamped down on him, drawing him in.
“Greedy.” Trace licked and pumped his mouth around his cock. “Let go for me.” He glanced up between licks. “Come apart.”
“Yeah.” The artist’s brow crinkled and his eyes closed. A trickle of perspiration slid down his temple and he pistoned his hips, burying his cock in Trace’s mouth. Within seconds, a thick stream of cum slid down Trace’s throat.
This time, Jeremy wobbled too far and leaned on Trace. “Fuck.”
“I’ve got you.” Trace kept him upright. Paint smeared on his nose and cheeks, but he didn’t care. He wiped the sticky cream from his mouth and stood and gazed up at his lover. “Tastes good.”
Jeremy grinned. “I like being your canvas.”
An idea popped into Trace’s mind…a delicious idea. “Do you have big paper?”
His lover nodded across the room. “In the flat file.”
Trace helped him onto the nearby stool. Strolling to the set of oak drawers, he opened the top two. Crisp white paper filled the second one. He withdrew a sheet and placed it on the floor next to the stool.
Without saying a word, Jeremy met his gaze. Trace smoothed the paper and picked up his overnight bag. The bottle of lube and one of the condom boxes landed on the floor.
“Making a collage out of sex items?” Jeremy asked.
“Nope.” Trace shucked his pants and underwear then yanked his shirt up over his head, tossing it onto the bag.
Jeremy dropped to his knees and crawled to where Trace stood. He opened his mouth and flicked his tongue. “Let me take care of you.”
“Not yet.” Trace stoked his own cock, loving the feel of his hand on his body and the look of need on Jeremy’s face as he watched. He held a condom out. “Open.”
He did as told, then sat back on his heels.
“Lay down on the paper.” Trace positioned his lover with his ass toward the ceiling. His splayed hands, knees and the tops of his feet left colorful marks on the pristine paper. “We’re making our own art.”
“I love you,” Jeremy said.
Trace slid the rubber over his dick then squirted a generous amount of lube in his palm. “Jesus.” From head to toe, he trembled. He stroked himself while kneeling behind Jeremy.
He spread his ass cheeks. The pink skin puckered and he swiped his tongue over it before sliding a slick finger in. Jeremy groaned and spread his legs farther apart.
“Yeah.” His fists balled and released. “More.”
“Absolutely.” Trace pumped his finger in and out then added a second digit. “I have to make you ready for me.”
Jeremy pushed backward and met him thrust for thrust.
Blood pumped through Trace and he panted. He withdrew and lined his cock up with Jeremy’s ass. Little by little, he breached the tight muscle and slid into the warmth. He groaned gripped his Jeremy’s hips. “Mine.” Rocking back and forth, he increased his pace with every plunge. In, out, skin slapping skin. The smacks echoed in the large room. He brought his hand down on Jeremy’s butt in time with his movements, his balls tapping the artist’s sac, sending a fresh rush of desire through his body. He groaned again and his limbs sizzled.
“Damn.” His belly fluttered. “Can’t hold it in.” His brain fuzzed and his vision blurred. “Jer!” He emptied and swayed on his feet, letting the orgasm play out. Unsure how long he stayed that way, he finally straightened. “Holy shit, that was intense.” He sprawled across Jeremy’s back and kissed the back of his neck. Staring at their handiwork, he asked, “Think we should frame our art?”
Jeremy chuckled. “Maybe after we get off of it.”
Trace nodded and rolled onto his side, giving Jeremy room to move. He’d never expected his life to change in a matter of hours, yet it had.
“I meant what I said. I love you, Trace.” Jeremy smiled.
“I love you, too.” Trace touched his cheek. “You’re everything I want.”
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
When she's not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don't seem to mind.
When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school. She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best. The cabana boys are willing to serve, unless she needs them. She always needs them. So be nice to Javier or he will bite - on command.
She also masquerades under the name Wendi Zwaduk.
You can visit with Megan at:
www.wendizwaduk.com
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