Page 62 of Painted

“Are you ready?” Rhys asked at last.

Early nodded tightly, unable to find words.

Rhys kissed them again, long and lingeringly, as he shifted fully between their legs. He cleverly moved a pillow under theirhips while they were distracted, then continued to keep them distracted until their legs were lifted up and spread and the tip of his cock pressed against their hole.

A whisper of fear hit them just before Rhys pushed in. They gasped for breath, their eyes going wide as the discomfort of being fucked radiated through them. Rhys never broke eye contact with them the whole time, though. Whatever they felt in those initial moments, it was drowned in the emotions that rocketed through them when they saw how deeply Rhys liked what he was doing.

Within seconds, the initial discomfort was replaced by the heady feeling of being joined with Rhys. They gave in to the feeling, letting out a long moan as Rhys inched deeper and deeper, adjusting the angle of his thrusts as he did. Maybe it was wrong of them, but they definitely got off on the feeling of being used that way.

A moment later, all bets were off as Rhys rubbed across their prostate, sending a primal pulse of pleasure through them. Rhys seemed to know he’d hit the spot, too. He let out a satisfied sigh, then did it again and again, increasing the pace and intensity of his thrusts. From there, everything started to melt and fade into pleasure, heat, and the feeling that they and Rhys were connected in body and soul.

It was outstanding. They cried out as their body prepared for orgasm, gripping Rhys’s back as he moved in them. At one point, they weren’t even sure how, Rhys moved one of their hands to stroke their own cock along with Rhys’s thrusts. That was the end of Early’s sanity and the beginning of an orgasm that rose up from somewhere deep inside them and swallowed them whole.

They cried out when their orgasm reached its peak, not caring about the mess they made as they came all over themself. Rhys groaned at the sight and increased the intensity of his thrusts. In no time at all, Early was certain he was coming aswell. Coming inside him. Early trembled with joy and pleasure at the idea of Rhys leaving a part of himself inside them.

The joy was so heady that they weren’t entirely certain when the two of them finished or how they ended up cuddled together in a panting pile, kissing and caressing each other. Finally, it had been perfect. It had been everything they’d hoped a night with Rhys would be.

“Sleep now, baby,” Rhys murmured to them, his voice so filled with love.

With a smile on their face, Early did exactly what Rhys wanted them to do. They closed their eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, along with every remaining bit of tension they had.

This was it. This was what they wanted for the rest of their life.

EIGHTEEN

The senseof satisfaction that Rhys felt as Early fell asleep in his arms went beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. Finally, he felt as though he’d done something right. He’d given Early as good an experience in bed as he could manage for their first time, even though it wasn’t actually their first time. It was the first time he wanted Early to remember when they looked back on their life and relationships.

Rhys flinched at the thought of Early having relationships, plural. It felt a little overly possessive of him to not want them to have any other romantic or sexual relationships except what the two of them shared. Early was young and deserved to sow their wild oats, if they wanted to.

He snuggled closer to them, planting a possessive kiss on Early’s exposed shoulder. Maybe it was wrong of him to want Early all to himself when there was so much of the world that they could still experience, but he’d never felt like this for anyone else before. It was almost like Early had been custom-made for him. And even though thinking that was hugely problematic and self-centered, the thought was there.

Early had fallen into a deep sleep almost at once and snored softly as Rhys caressed them. It was adorable. They were adorable. They kept saying they were confused and lost and didn’t have any idea who they were, but Rhys disagreed with that. Early knew who they were, they just hadn’t come to the realization of what that meant yet.

Raina had said something similar to him on several occasions in his twenties. He’d been confused about being bi and struggled with the idea that he should just pick a side and stick to it. Raina had laughed at him for that. She was the one who had insisted that there was no such thing as picking a side and sticking to it because there were no sides to begin with.

Rhys still heard her voice in his head when he talked to other young queer people about finding comfort in their identity just as they were. If not for Raina, he would probably still be serially dating men and women, constantly switching back and forth as his thoughts about what he should want snuffed out his knowledge of who he was.

Thinking of Raina wasn’t so painful when he had Early in his arms for some reason. He could smile at his memories and feel the love that hadn’t left him, even though his sister had.

Of course, it also made him incredibly restless. Sleep seemed farther and farther away from him instead of closer as the memories washed over him, making him smile and sigh in turn.

Finally, after more than an hour, when he was convinced that if he didn’t get up and expend some of his energy he’d wake Early from a sleep they definitely deserved, Rhys got up, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and headed out of the bedroom and out of his flat entirely. Raina was bright and alive within him, which compelled him to fix what was wrong with her painting while he was thrumming with inspiration.

He had a smile on his face and a spring in his step as he headed downstairs and into the classroom part of the house.It was past midnight, so everything was quiet and dark and borderline creepy. He could have sworn that he heard the ghosts not only of the aristocrats of the past walking the halls and sneaking around, having their assignations, he could hear the laughter of the schoolboys who had once called Hawthorne House their home, and the moans of the officers convalescing there with life-changing injuries after The Great War.

It was a relief to reach his classroom, to flick on the lights, and to walk over to his nook, where Raina’s landscape stood. He continued to smile as he mixed bright colors, drawing on all his happy memories of Raina to find the truth that Nancy so rightly said he needed in the painting.

He had the highest of hopes as he dabbed on a few more highlights, making the trees pop and the clouds in the distance look as though they were rolling by. They reminded him of the days he and Raina and the rest of the family had gone up to Box Hill for a picnic and looked out over Surrey in all its summertime beauty.

Those were good memories, but as the minutes ticked by and all the carefully placed highlights in the world did nothing to make the painting feel more alive, his smile faltered. He remembered the glow that always shone from Raina during those family outings, but nothing he could do could ever transfer that glow to the painting in front of him.

Paint was a dull, dead thing. It only imitated life. It didn’t have any life of its own. No matter what he did to the canvas in front of him, it would never bring Raina back to life.

He took a step back and stared at the painting, his breaths heaving before he was aware of his distress. The highlights weren’t changing a thing, so in a fit of desperation, he reached for some of his darker colors, squeezing too-large dollops onto his palette.

He mixed them carefully, dabbing small bits under the trees and along the lines of the hills. If highlights didn’t work, maybe lowlights would.

His mind was instantly thrown back to that horrible night, to the screech and crunch of metal against metal. Screams echoed in his ears, his own, Nick’s, and especially Raina’s. He remembered the eerie silence in the immediate aftermath of the crash, the moments before he and Nick started to move to get out of the car. He couldn’t remember if there were other people on the scene at first, all he remembered was the blackness of the night as he struggled to free himself from the twisted remains of the car and Nick’s shouts as he tried to get Raina to respond.

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