This was a complex situation in more ways than one. It affected more than just the two of us.
But in that moment, I was standing there naked, with Lane in my arms. My cum on his skin, and the marks from my mouth on his neck. So I tried to focus on that.
“I hope you don’t think I’m through with you yet,” I said, pulling back but not looking him in the face. “I didn’t really get to do much devouring so far.”
When nothing but silence greeted me, I risked a glance in his direction, hoping I didn’t see regret there, but knowing I wouldn’t blame him if I did.
“We’re in so much trouble, aren’t we?” he asked, unsurprisingly. I’d expected it to hit him, even if the remorse didn’t come. It had hit me too, but I was more selfish. I’d wanted him for so long that I would blissfully pretend all was fine if he would.
There was no reason to lie to him, though. He would know I was because we both knew the truth. “Yes.”
“They won’t understand.”
“No,” I replied. “They won’t. Maybe eventually we can make them see, but that’s not something we have to worry about today. Today, and as long as you’ll let me, I’d just like to lie to myself, make myself believe I can have you. And fucking. I’d like to do that as soon as possible, please.” I winked.
Lane gave me a small smile, one that carried a little sadness in it. “Isaac.” He cupped my face again, brushed his thumb beneath my eye, then pulled me in and gave me a soft kiss. At least he wasn’t saying my name as if it was a warning anymore. “You already have me.”
Yes, but for how long? Because I didn’t know if Lane could do it, if he would tell our parents we were in love with each other, see the disappointment and confusion aimed our way, and still decide I was worth it. “Let’s take a shower. Someone got paint all over me…and this fucking room. That same someone has a lot of cleaning to do.”
“Let me guess, that someone is me?”
I took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “It would make more sense. Who does the paint belong to?”
“Who was the one smearing it everywhere?”
“That’s beside the point.”
Lane chuckled and followed me to my bedroom and into the en suite. I opened the glass doors of the shower and turned the water on, finding the right temperature.
I signaled for Lane to get in first, which he did, and I joined him. Red and yellow bled to the floor, the colored water making brief patterns on the tiles’ shades of gray before sliding down the drain, and with it, the evidence of what we’d done.
I pulled Lane close, ran my hands down his slick body, over his firm ass and back up again, before burying my hand in the hair at his nape and tugging his mouth to mine again. I couldn’t stop kissing him, touching him. It was needy as shit, and if he were anyone else, I would hate them seeing this side of me. But then, if he were anyone else, I wouldn’t feel this way about him.
We held each other tightly, water slicking down our bodies. While he’d gained muscle mass over the years and was firm and sculpted in all the right places, Lane was still smaller than me, his body slighter in my embrace. His hands went to my sides, fingertips pressing in enough to leave bruises, like maybe he was just as afraid I would change my mind as I was that he would. He held on to me as if he feared he would lose me.
“God, I’ve always hated kissing,” I admitted, my mouth trailing down his neck. “Mmm, can I bite and suck you again here? Give you a dark-purple hickey so I can—holy shit, that can be my form of art. Leaving evidence of my desire for you all over your body. It’ll be our secret, a reminder of my possession of you. I’ll look at it when we’re in a room full of people, and none of them will know it’s my marks on you.”
“Jesus.” Lane trembled against me. “Yes, you can. That was hot as fuck, if a little sad too, since no one can know, and how have you always hated kissing? You have a lot of sex, Isaac.”
“And I don’t always kiss, but when I do, it’s not my favorite thing.” I lashed my tongue over the meaty part where his shoulder met his neck, the one he said I could have. “Well, wasn’t my favorite.” I dug my teeth into my spot, harder than before, but careful not to break the skin, then sucked, feeling the blood rush to the surface beneath my tongue.
“Oh fuck. That hurts but also feels so damn good. More.”
Never one to deny someone pleasure, I gave it to him, making my own mouth hurt from the strength of my suction on him. Lane was shaking in my arms, riding my thigh, his erection hot and thick against me.
Could I really make him come this way? I kissed him there before drawing him into my mouth again. One hand on his ass, the other still in his hair, I pulled Lane against me, moved with him as he moaned and thrust on my leg, shamelessly taking what he needed from me.
I’d gladly give it. Just a moment later, his body went stiff and he cried out, the hot rush of his load spurting on my hip. I pulled my mouth off him, wrapped a hand around my shaft, ready to paint him with my cum again, but Lane dropped to his knees and swallowed my cock.
His mouth was so fucking hot, so wet, and this was Lane. That thought had my balls emptying down his throat in less than thirty seconds.
Lane didn’t get up right away, didn’t stop sucking me. His arms encircled my waist, his cheek against my stomach as he nursed my softening cock, like it was his way to get nourishment.
I knew what he was thinking without him needing to say the words. When my dick fell from his mouth, I ran my fingers through his hair. I loved how long it was now. “We’ll figure it out.”
I pulled him to his feet, and we finally used soap and washed our bodies, then got out and dried off.
“I’m so tired,” Lane said.
I was too. “Let’s get some sleep.”
He didn’t argue, didn’t seem to be second-guessing the decision to climb naked into my bed. I went in beside him, pulling the blanket over us.
Lane wrapped me in an embrace, and I molded my body to his, my head on his shoulder. “I like seeing my mark on you.” I licked the dark, almost black mark I’d sucked onto his skin.
“I like knowing it’s there.” The words were soft, and he sounded exhausted. I didn’t have to look to know Lane fell straight to sleep.
I let myself close my eyes and do the same.
I woke up to an empty bed. From the way the light hit, I was pretty sure it was late afternoon. I was surprised I’d slept so long, that I hadn’t felt Lane slip out of bed.
For a second, worry washed over me, that he’d come to his senses and everything would already come to a head, but this was Lane, and I knew him. I knew his patterns and his needs, what he did when he was too happy or too sad or just being himself, so I climbed out of bed, took a quick piss, washed my hands, and tugged on a pair of underwear.
The door to his studio was open, and it was…still a mess. He was naked still, and he was at his easel because again, this was him and it was what he always did.
“Sorry. I was inspired.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorjamb with a smile on my face. I loved seeing him like this. He couldn’t even tear his gaze away from what he was doing to face me. “You don’t ever have to apologize for this. Especially if naked painting becomes a thing now. I love naked painting.”