by Sean Michael
“Yes...” His cock leaked, balls heavy and aching.
Harrison’s movements sped, became stronger.
“Yes. Yes, Harrison. God. Good.”
Harder and harder, each thrust sent him higher.
Giles moaned, body jerking, belly tight. “Please.”
“You want to come?” Harrison’s hand wrapped around his cock, the band at the base and around his balls so damn tight.
“Yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.”
“You have to wait until I say you can.” He could feel Harrison’s fingers, playing with the snaps on the cock ring.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Harrison. Harrison, I’m burning.”
“When I say so,” Harrison insisted.
He groaned, squeezed as tight as he could around that sweet cock.
Moaning, Harrison flicked open the ring, the leather sliding away from him. “Now.”
“Harrison!” His eyes were huge, wide. His body was fighting to come, but nothing happened. Harrison growled, thrust in hard, hitting his gland again. The world shattered, and all Giles knew was how to come. And come. And come.
When he finally came back into his body, Harrison was cradling him, holding him. He shivered, blinked. Stared a little. Harrison placed soft kisses over his chin, jaw, cheeks.
“I.” He blinked, dazed. “You.”
“Yeah.” Harrison grinned and pulled him in close.
He cuddled in, loath to move, to go home.
Harrison kissed one eyelid. “Just let go, G. I’ve got you.”
Giles nodded.
Let go.
He could do that.
Chapter Nine
Harrison followed Giles up the stairs to his sister’s place, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He was looking forward to seeing how Giles interacted with his sister. He was also looking forward to seeing if she could see the subtle differences the time with him had brought out in her brother.
Marisa lived in a townhome in the ritzy part of town, and it pleased him that Giles had a key, knocking once before using it. “I’m here.”
“We’re here,” he said, teasing Giles gently.
Giles stuck his tongue out. “She’ll know what I mean.”
“Gilly! Incoming!”
At Marisa’s words, a small, wet, naked boy came screaming down the hall, heading right for them. “Gilly! Catch me!”
Giles bent and caught, soaking his white shirt. “Bath time, Danny?”
“Uh-huh.”
Harrison blinked and then blinked again. Giles hadn’t said a thing about a nephew, though that had to be who this Danny was.
Giles headed into the house. “Come on, Harrison.”
He followed Giles and the naked Danny, their footsteps retracing the little wet ones that covered the floor in the hall.
Marisa came out, half-soaked herself, grinning from ear to ear. “Bath time.”
“So I see. Giles failed to mention you had a son.”
“I don’t. This is our nephew. Our sister, Kath, got called into the hospital.”
“You’ve got another sister?” He raised one of his eyebrows and gave Giles a look.
“We do. She’s an ER doctor. Very busy.” Marisa shrugged. “She and Giles are a little estranged.”
“Yeah? How come?”
Marisa and Giles seemed to get along like a house on fire. Marisa looked at Giles, Giles looked at Marisa, and Harrison would swear they had some silent conversation. Then Marisa said, “Who knows?”
Which no doubt meant he should mind his own business. Marisa would eventually learn that Giles was very much his business. He held out his hand. “Harrison Ornell. We met in the street a few weeks back.”
“I remember. I’m Marisa. My husband, Barry, is in the kitchen working his butt off. Please, let me get Danny in bed. You two go get a glass of wine.”
“Come on. I’ll show you the way.” Giles took his hand. Harrison’s fingers curled with Giles’, the act of holding hands natural, comfortable.
“Lead on. I’m eager to see a buttless man.” He gave Marisa a wink.
Marisa scooped Danny up and Giles drew him further into the house. The place was covered in Giles’ artwork, and the smells coming out of the kitchen were amazing, spicy and rich.
“Someone is a fan of yours.” It made him smile, made him happy inside, too.
Giles looked confused. “Who?”
He chuckled. “Marisa.”
“She’s my sister.” Like that explained everything.
A huge, dark-skinned man was in the bright, open kitchen, chopping vegetables and singing opera. “Giles! Is this the infamous New Man?”
“I am. Harrison. You’ve got to be the man without a butt.”
Barry turned, looked back. “No, man. I have a prodigious backside. Are you a beer man or a wine man?” Barry poured Giles a glass of white and handed it over.
“I’ll have a beer. It’s good to meet you. And that smells amazing.”
“It’s pasta puttanesca and some chicken. Salad. Simple and tasty. Do you like stout or lager?” Barry slapped Giles’ hand as it headed for the bread basket. “Out of that, you.”
Harrison took Giles’ hand between his, rubbing it and trying not to growl. “Either’s fine.”
“Good deal.” Barry winked. “You have to watch him; he’ll snack while you’re cooking and then not eat.”
“Oh, I don’t know. There’s worse things than snacking.”
“Sure there are. Red for me, Barry, love.” Marisa came in, dressed in dry clothes. “You want a dry shirt, Gilly?”
“Oh, man. I didn’t even notice.” Barry shook his head. “You can borrow one of mine if you want.”
Harrison watched the byplay with interest. Marisa and Barry were treating Giles like... like he was just Giles. Not crazy or rich or famous, just Marisa’s brother. He liked them.
Giles got a too-big T-shirt, the wet shirt thrown in the dryer. Harrison ended up perched on a barstool at the island, Giles next to him, everyone teasing and laughing, the atmosphere homey and simple. He had to admit he was surprised.
He’d expected... drama. Maybe it was because of the way he’d first met Marisa. He did notice that none of them talked business -- nothing about painting, about art, about galleries. Possibly that was where all the drama lay.
They moved to the dining room table when the food was ready, and the food tasted as good as it smelled. The small talk stopped as they ate. The food was simple but so good, and Harrison felt right at home. He was pleased to see Giles eating, too.
They played a card game after supper, Marisa and Barry beating them handily. Giles was unfocused and flighty, not paying attention, but neither of their hosts seemed the slightest bit worried.
He shook his head when a second round was suggested. “I’d need a different partner, but I won’t give mine up.”
Giles’ cheeks heated. “I know I suck at this stuff. You three should play hearts. I’m going to have a look at the moon.”
“Oh, that sounds fun. I’ll join you.”
Giles looked surprised. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Marisa waved her hands at them. “Go see the backyard. Barry and I will make coffee.”
Harrison stood and held his hand out for Giles. Giles took his hand, and Harrison thought he heard Marisa sigh happily.
He let Giles lead him out to the backyard, the moon a brilliant orb in the sky this evening. The little yard was filled with odd, weird little sculptures, all of them covered in foliage. They felt like his lover.
“Is this your work?” he asked.
“From college, yes.”
“Very cool.”
“They’re awful, but Barry loves them.”
“They aren’t awful. I like what the plants have done t
o them, too.”
“I was young.” Giles went to one, fingers on the metal.
“I’m glad they found a home. I’d hate to think of never getting to see them.” He watched Giles, admiring the lean lines. “I like them.” He wasn’t talking about the statues anymore.
“It’s nice here, hmm? Normal.”
“I like it.” Well, they liked Giles and treated him well; he liked that. He liked it a lot.
Giles nodded. “I do, too. I don’t belong here, though. I lived here once, for a little while.”
“Did you really?” He tried to imagine Giles in this relatively normal environment, but Giles didn’t fit. Not really. Giles was... special, different. His.
“After I got out of the hospital. They made me.”
His belly clenched, as did his jaw. “They?”
“The doctors -- Kath, mainly -- they said I couldn’t be on my own. Marisa and Barry let me stay here instead of Kath’s.”
“Your older sister is the one who had you committed.” The pieces were beginning to fall into place; being estranged from her made a lot of sense if that was the case.
“It was a thing.” Giles rolled his eyes. “She’s a harpy.”
Harrison could think of some other, less nice words. He hugged Giles from behind. “You think differently than most people, that’s all.”
“It just gets loud in my head.”
“I know how to make it quiet, though.” He was good for Giles. And good with Giles. They were good together.
Giles leaned hard into him. “You know something I don’t, that’s for sure.”
He chuckled. “I recognize a kindred soul, G. The yin to my yang.” Which sounded cheesy as hell, but he thought that Giles would appreciate it.
Giles answered him with a soft hum, but Harrison thought it sounded happy. He turned Giles slightly, brushing their lips together. Giles leaned into him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am. Marisa and Barry are good people. Besides, you’re here.”
“They’ve been married for four years. He really loves her.”
“That’s what we’re all looking for, eh?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe you have to be unhappy to paint.”
Harrison tilted his head. “You’re unhappy when you paint?”
“No. It’s bigger than happiness.”
“Then I’d say you don’t have to be unhappy to paint.”
Giles’ head tilted. “I’ll have to think about that one.”
Harrison grinned, amused by that.
“Are you laughing at me?” Giles was smiling, too.
“No. I’m just enjoying learning how your brain works.”
Giles looked at him hard. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Giles.” He tugged the man in closer, brought their mouths together.
“No getting busy in my backyard. Coffee’s ready, you two.” Marisa’s voice was light, teasing.
“Spoilsport,” he teased back, giving Giles a wink.
“You know it. Last thing I want to see is horny Gilly. Ew.”
Giles cracked up, flipped her off.
He leaned in to whisper into Giles’ ear. “I, on the other hand, am rather fond of horny Gilly.”
“Don’t call me that, or I’ll call you Harry.”
Harrison wrinkled his nose. “Ew.” Not that his G was a Gilly, anyway.
“Exactly.” Giles grinned at him, drew him inside where the coffee was waiting. Marisa was sitting on Barry’s lap on the sofa, laughing softly.
Harrison sat in the easy chair, drawing Giles down onto his lap, figuring it was kosher. “Thank you for inviting me along for supper tonight.”
They both looked at him, surprise in their eyes, then they smiled. He let one of his eyebrows go up -- he was only imitating his hosts.
“You’re more than welcome.” Marisa beamed.
He relaxed back in the chair, hand on one of Giles’ thigh. Barry started dozing almost immediately, Marisa chuckling softly. They’d explained that Barry worked as a building inspector, and the man was an early-morning riser, unlike Marisa and Giles.
“Should we go and let him get to bed?”
Marisa grinned. “You’re welcome to stay; he’s just tired.”
Giles, though, shook his head. “I know Kath; she’ll be here early to pick Danny up. We should go.”
Harrison rubbed Giles’ back. “Whatever you want, G.”
“Let’s go home.”
He’d stood, had Giles halfway out the door before he really heard what Giles had said. Once they were outside, he tugged Giles in close and kissed him hard.
Giles held onto his shoulders, swaying. “Hey.”
“Hey. Let’s go home.”
Giles nodded. “Sounds great.”
“It does.”
It really did.
Chapter Ten
Giles turned off his phone. Locked the studio doors. Closed all the windows. Then he stripped himself down to nothing, turned the music up as loud as it would go, and got to work. No Harrison. No making love. Nothing but him and the art.
He stared at the blank canvas. “This time,” he told it, “you’re not going to be about Harrison.”
It hadn’t worked in the last three days. His studio was filled with canvases that were pure sex, pure need. Hunger. Passion. Harrison.
Today, it was going to work. He wasn’t going to speak to Harrison until it worked.
Someone was banging on his door. Over and over and over. Working. He was working.
Hard.
The banging continued, annoying, like a fly buzzing at his ears.
“Leave me alone!” he screamed. Then he went to the door buzzer, pressed the button. “I can’t DO THIS WITH THAT BANGING!”
“Let me in, Giles!
He tore his door open, stormed downstairs bare naked, and ripped that door open, too. “What do you want? I’m trying to WORK and you’re EVERYWHERE! I can’t stop thinking about you!”
Harrison pushed in and closed the door behind him.
“I haven’t heard from you in days and you’re ignoring my calls -- I was worried.”
“I told you I needed to work!” He shook a little, fingers digging at his arm. “I have to work harder. I haven’t painted in days!”
Harrison pried his hand away from his arm. “Stop that. You can take a few minutes out of a day and give me a call to let me know you’re okay.”
“I told you... Why are you always in my head? Why won’t you leave me alone?” He shook his head, groaning. “I can’t stop thinking about you!”
Harrison cupped his cheeks and kissed him. Hard. Oh. Oh, fuck. Please. He moaned, arms wrapping around Harrison’s neck. Harrison pushed him up against the wall, the kiss going deeper, harder. Upstairs. They needed to. Upstairs. He didn’t break the kiss, though. He dove into it, desperate, needy. Harrison bit at his bottom lip and ground against him, pushing him into the wall.
“Need you.” His fingers dug into Harrison’s scalp. “Fuck, need you.”
“I know.” Harrison grabbed his ass and lifted him off the floor.
He rubbed hard, moaning low. “Please. Help me.” He didn’t know for sure what he was begging for.
Harrison held him up against the wall, one hand snaking around to grab his cock.
He sobbed softly. “Oh. Oh, God. You’re everywhere.”
“You need me,” growled Harrison, fingers pinching the head of his prick, making it burn.
“Yes!” His toes curled tight.
“Show me. Fucking show me.” Harrison’s hand wrapped around his cock, thumb pushing and pressing every time it came up near to his slit. Spunk poured from him, the pleasure pushing from him in waves that left him shaken. “Yeah, that’s it, G.
So good. Damn.” Harrison’s hand kept moving, nice and easy now.
“Harrison. Please. Upstairs?” He’d stay here, exposed, if that’s what Harrison wanted.
“Yes. I want you on that thing you call a bed.” Harrison rubbed his own come into his belly, then took his hand and headed upstairs.
The studio was a wreck, paintings everywhere, all of his Harrison’s soul laid out on canvas.
“Wow. This is. Wow.” Harrison looked around, eyes wide.
“I’ve been trying to work.”
“And you have. Like, a whole lot.”
“Don’t hate them. Please.”
“They’re fucking stunning, G.”
“Oh.” His knees went weak. “Oh, God. Harrison. They’re you. Me. Us. It just keeps coming.”
“Are they?” Harrison looked again, moving slowly around. He began to nod. “They are. And we are stunning.”
The relief was as overwhelming as it was unexpected.
Harrison grabbed him around the waist and twirled with him. “Oh.” He held on tight, spinning around and around.
Harrison laughed, and then pressed their mouths together. He crawled up into Harrison’s arms, legs around the thick waist. Suddenly his world had gone from dismal to bright, happy. Harrison held him easily, tongue sliding deep into his mouth, and Giles moaned, fingers pushing at Harrison’s clothes.
“Yeah, get them off.” Despite his words, Harrison wasn’t helping at all; instead, his mouth was distracting Giles with kisses and bites and licks. He nodded, shoved the clothes up, down, over, digging for skin. Harrison groaned for him when he found it, pushing into his hands.
“Need you. Like a drug. Like air.” It was his truth.
“I like being your drug.”
“I want you.”
“Yes. Gonna fuck you. Gonna make you fly.”
“Yes. Yes, Harrison, please.”
Harrison carried him over to his futon, laying him down on it. Harrison’s kisses came one after another, tongue fucking his lips, making him spin. Two of Harrison’s fingers slid into him, spreading him, making him burn. He loved it -- loved the burn, the ache, the spread.
“God, you’re so tight.”
“More. Please. You’re everywhere.”
