Page 100 of Refraction

“We can totally sleep out here. The bugs are the worst part. Possibly a stray cow.” He would open up the skylights in the barn. Calvin would love that.

“Cool! We could get a bunch of those citronella candles, maybe.” Calvin stood, a foot-long stick of tightly twisted newspaper in one hand. “Light me?”

“You got it.” He pulled his lighter from one pocket and got the flame going.

“Nice. Okay, use your long arms and tuck this in somewhere low and with some airflow around it. You want it to burn from the inside out, you know?” Calvin plopped back down and started making another torch. Pretty soon they had four of the newspaper torches tucked into the stack of paintings, and the light nighttime breeze was feeding them nicely.

He watched the paintings begin to melt and morph, the demons going black and twisted. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wasn’t sure if he felt anything at all.

“This is good, right? Just to let that time go? Let all those mistakes we made go?” Calvin moved in close and looked up at him. “I shouldn’t have let so much time pass by. I should have replied to those pictures you were sending me even if I didn’t understand them. I don’t want to harp on things, but I do want to tell you I’m sorry. I don’t expect anything with us to be simple all the time—I’m a nutjob and a stress case, I know that—but… I’m totally all in.”

“You’re mine, and I love you.” He didn’t understand Calvin a lot of the time, but that was okay. He didn’t understand himself 90 percent of the time.

“Yeah. Same here, tiger. I love you.” Calvin leaned on him, and he tucked an arm around his lover’s shoulders to watch the fire. “I blew Michael off the other day. I think I’m going to have to turn my phone back on tomorrow and check in.”

“You do what you need to. I got your back.” Whatever Calvin needed to do. He wasn’t all the way sure of what that was, but he was pretty flexible.

“I know, baby. You’ll be busy painting I bet anyway. I can’t wait to see what’s in your head.”

“I need to finish the current group, and then I want to play with the light.”

“Sounds good to me.” The fire popped, and the paintings shifted and settled again, making Calvin jump. The last few reluctant frames went up in flames. Everything around the fire was bright, and beyond that looked pitch-black. “Ooh! Cool.”

“Yeah.” He held Calvin and watched. “I’m glad I didn’t paint over them.”

“There was no painting over these. They’d have bled through everything.”

“Exactly.” Tucker didn’t know how to explain, and he was so glad he didn’t have to, that blessedly, Calvin heard him.

Calvin nodded and slipped an arm around his waist. The stack of paintings shifted and collapsed again, but Calvin didn’t jump this time. A warm hand slid over his shoulder, up the side of his neck, and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down into a kiss. It was gentle, but burned slower and hotter than the fire in front of him.

Oh. He moaned softly, his knees going weak as Calvin stole his breath away.

His hand pressed against Calvin’s chest. Calvin placed it there, he knew, so he could feel the strong, fast heartbeat. It was a gesture that had become Calvin’s way of making sure he knew he was wanted. Needed.

The flames danced in Calvin’s eyes, and it felt so normal, so right. So perfectly genuine. This wasn’t about demons. This was about everything but.

What had been a tower collapsed for probably the last time into not much more than a mound. One of the few remaining paintings that was still somewhat intact but blackened and smoking, flipped off the pile and landed inches from Calvin’s feet. Calvin didn’t hesitate and kicked it, despite essentially bare toes, right back onto the pile.

“Impressive,” he moaned, then took Calvin’s lips again.

Calvin’s fingers traveled down the front of his shirt, opening the buttons and then slipping under the fabric against his ribs.

Oh, that made him ache, made his nipples tighten and his balls draw up. He could fucking worship at the altar of Calvin for the rest of his goddamn life.

His fly was next, and Calvin opened up his shorts and freed his cock, letting it lie heavily in a hot palm.

“Please. God, your hand….”

“Is that what you want, baby?” Calvin’s fingers tightened around his shaft and stroked slow. Painfully slow. Too goddamn slow.

“I want everything.” He spread his thighs, bracing himself. “You make me feel….” So much.

“Loved, I hope.” Calvin waved a little bottle in front of his eyes briefly and then pressed it into his hand. “So you can have everything.”

“Oh damn. You’re fixin’ to kill me.”

Calvin laughed and kissed him, fist sliding faster along his erection.

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