Page 159 of Reluctantly You

But not yet.

Not quite yet.

“Okay,” I say, spinning him around and then untying the silk bandana from around his eyes. Those long lashes blink as he takes in the room, and then those dark eyes widen.

“What the hell?” he murmurs as he turns, taking it all in. The open, expansive window, the skylight I had installed, the large canvas on an easel, the paints, the drop cloth, his recent paintings mounted on the walls.

“Do you like it?” I ask, feeling my nerves start to splinter and fray.

“Gideon,” he breathes. “This—” His voice grows choked, and I hear him sniffle. “I love it.”

I feel my chest expand, my fingers grabbing on to him as I lead him around the room, explaining what everything is.

“I want you to be here when you create. I want to watch you do this.”

His eyes are watery pools. “I—I can’t accept this.”

“You can and you will. I want you to have this. I want to watch you grow into the man you’re meant to be.”

He sniffles and swipes at his eyes. “Shit, first therapy, then painting, and now crying. I’m really fucking gay.”

I grin at him and then pull him into me. “Yeah, you fucking are. Would you like me to show you how much?”

He nods eagerly and we crash into the wall, my hips grinding into his as I work his pants open. His own fingers fumble with mine, and we kick them off at the same time, our cocks hard and insistent, knocking into one another as we rip at each other’s shirts. They come flying off as our teeth clank together.

“Lube,” he groans as he arches into me. “Please.”

“Yes, baby,” I whisper against his lips, leaving him for just a moment, only to return to find him standing in front of the blank canvas.

“I’m going to paint you,” he tells me. “And then maybe some of Basil’s vegetables for his wall.”

“I think he’d love that,” I say as my fingers splay across his chest and tweak his hardened nipples. His skin pebbles and he leans back against me.

“Fuck me. Make love to me,” he begs, and I do as he asks, falling to the floor, spreading him wide open and sinking inside of him. His legs wind around me, my cock tunneling into his tight channel until he’s gasping, my name a prayer on his lips.

“More,more.”

I kiss him softly, sucking on his tongue and lips until he’s spilling across his chest, my own release following shortly after.

We lay there, our heaving bodies pressed against each other, his eyes sliding from me to the canvas.

“What are you thinking?”

“How I’m going to paint you.”

“Can I see?”

“When I’m done.”

My fingers slide through his hair and his eyelids flutter shut.

“Does this mean you love it?”

“I do. I fucking love it.”

We lay there a moment and then I hear him inhale deeply.

“Thank you, Gideon. For everything. For putting up with me, for standing by me.”

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