The Colors Between Us

by Kate Hawthorne

  He propped his weight on the counter and put his shoes on, eyes landing on a half full bottle of vodka. Donny’s blood boiled. He rounded the counter and opened the bottle and held it upside down over the sink, listening with a tainted type of pleasure as the liquid glug-glugged down the drain. He dropped the empty bottle in the sink and the sound of glass against porcelain ricocheted around the otherwise quiet kitchen. Donny opened the freezer and he stuck his hand inside, pulling out an unopened bottle— the only contents, he noted—then unscrewed the cap and dumped it down the sink.

  Donny was aware that this might be crossing a line. Roland wasn’t his boyfriend, wasn’t his obligation, and this vodka wasn’t bought with his money, but he couldn’t stop himself. He braced himself with one hand against the sink while the vodka slid out of the bottle and down the drain. The whole kitchen reeked of booze, and it made Donny’s stomach roil. He dropped the bottle in the sink once it was empty and cracked the fridge. It looked just like it had when he’d been here last and had put the leftover Chinese food away on the middle shelf.

  He closed the fridge, then opened it again. Why did he even fucking care what Roland ate or drank? It shouldn’t be his concern or his problem. Donny grabbed the leftovers and threw them in the trash, slamming the lid to the can and the door to the fridge closed. He was upset. He needed to calm down.

  Donny pulled his phone out of his pocket and the screen indicated it was nearly nine at night. He’d been working all day, running deliveries because Lawrence was out sick, and he hadn’t eaten since the morning when he’d had brunch with Athena. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled, but then revolted when he caught another whiff of the vodka. He needed to get out of there. He needed to eat something.

  Roland needed to eat something.

  That thought bounced across his head, not as unwelcome as he’d expected it to be. Donny decided to run down to the deli on the corner and grab some snacks. He would calm down, come back, and figure out what the fuck Roland’s deal was.

  Once Donny made it to the street, he called his sister.

  “Hey, Donny,” she answered in a surprisingly sing-song tone.

  “You sound happy,” he observed, heading down the street.

  “Do I? Maybe. Anyway, what do you want? I’m sort of in the middle of something.” Donny heard muffled noises in the background.

  “I don’t know,” Donny answered, realizing he wasn’t sure why he’d called Athena to begin with. He didn’t know how to explain Roland, or who Roland was to him, or could be, or anything.

  “Well, that’s super helpful, brother. Is it about a gentleman caller?” There were more muffled noises and what sounded like a slap.

  “Yeah.”

  “If you’re calling about a boy and you don’t even know what to ask or say, the answer to your unasked question is you need to figure it out, because your heart is already invested. Okay? I’m gonna go now.”

  “What?” Donny asked.

  “Figure it out. Bye, Donny.” And Athena ended the call.

  Donny stared at his phone, rolling his sister’s words around in his head. His heart wasn’t invested. His cock, maybe, but his heart? He pondered the implausibility of the concept while he filled a wire basket with chips, sandwiches, bananas, and some milk. Donny tossed in a few candy bars for good measure and went to the register. He debated buying a bottle of vodka to make up for the ones he’d dumped but decided against it.

  He was still thinking about what Athena had said when he made it back to the penthouse. He’d left the door unlocked when he stepped out, so he knocked only as a courtesy and then let himself in. Donny set the bag of food on the counter, put the milk in the fridge and opened a pre-made sandwich. He took a bite, and then another, letting the food settle in his empty stomach before seeking out Roland.

  Donny toed off his sneakers and padded down the hall toward the bedroom, to find it empty. The lights in the bathroom were off, and the bed was a mess, much like he’d left it. Donny turned on his heel and walked toward the other end of the house with a feeling Roland would be in the studio.

  He thought about the last time he’d seen Roland, and his cock thought about the last time he’d been in the studio. Donny set his half-eaten sandwich on the counter and picked up the sealed sandwich he’d gotten for Roland and walked down the hall.

  Roland was, as expected, in the studio. He had on a clean looking pair of tight, black boxer briefs that were exposed underneath the undone fly of a pair of loose fit jeans. Even though the room was surprisingly dark, Donny could see Roland’s hair was wild, all browns with gold tangled through the strands like he was bathed in sunlight. Donny wished he was a painter because he understood, in that moment, he’d spend his entire life trying to capture and detail the light and the shadows that seemed to constantly surround Roland.

  Donny leaned his weight against the doorframe and watched Roland. He wished he had his sketchbook so he could draw out the sinewy lines of Roland’s arms as his hand danced across the canvas. Roland was all barely restrained tension, anger, and grace. He looked more himself when he was painting, and Donny felt like an intruder, stealing this moment for his memory.

  He wanted to reach out and touch Roland in the worst way and his hand clenched around the sandwich container, causing the plastic to crinkle. Roland’s eyes shot up to the door when he heard the sound, and then narrowed when he saw Donny.

  “What are you doing here? Did you come to empty out more of my booze, or stick your dick in me again?” Roland half asked, half accused.

  “I wouldn’t mind the latter, but I thought you could use a bite.” Donny held up the sandwich.

  “I don’t need your pity fuck or your pity sandwich.” Roland threw the paintbrush down, his eyes darting between the canvas and Donny.

  “Yeah, and I don’t need to be called up when you just want a cock inside you, but here we fucking are, Roland,” Donny bit out caustically. He took a step into the room, and Roland advanced on him. “Why did you even text me? I told you not to do it, and you did it anyway. I’m not inclined to waste my time fucking a drunk who doesn’t even want to look at me.”

  “I’m not a fucking drunk.” Roland stepped closer.

  “Okay, Roland,” Donny patronized, crossing his arms over his chest, “maybe you’re not, but you sure drink like one.”

  “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “That’s the fucking truth, isn’t it?” Donny was getting angry again. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, taking a deep breath. All he saw behind his eyelids was Roland. Troubled, and beautiful fucking Roland, with a paintbrush in his hand and desolation in his eyes.

  “I’m trying!” Roland exclaimed. He reached into his pocket and fumbled around, finally pulling out a slip of blue paper. “I’m fucking trying. I went to the doctor today before I called you, okay? I got tested for you. I got a prescription f—” Roland bit back the last part of his sentence and threw the paper toward Donny. It did a swirl in the air before falling to the ground between them.

  Donny swallowed thickly and stared at the paper, which had unfolded, and was clearly a prescription for some kind of medication.

  Okay.

  Donny squatted down and picked up the prescription, folding it back closed before he was tempted to look at whatever the doctor had written. It wasn’t his business. Though maybe, now, he wanted it to be, but it wasn’t yet. He held it out to Roland.

  Roland begrudgingly accepted the paper, his fingers grazing across Donny’s skin in a delicate way Donny hadn’t felt before. He shivered, then the feeling passed and Roland was shoving the prescription back into his pocket.

  Donny held out the sandwich.

  “You need to eat.”

  Roland narrowed his eyes at Donny before the lines in his face softened in the most minuscule way, and he held his hand out for the sandwich. Donny handed it over, and Roland tore the plastic back and ingested half the sandwich quicker than Donny would have thought possi
ble.

  “Can I see what you’re painting?” Donny asked softly.

  Roland’s whole demeanor changed. He tensed and cocked his head to the side defensively. “It’s not anything.”

  “That isn’t what I asked.”

  Roland sighed loudly and angled his head in the direction of the canvas he’d been working on as he pulled the other half of the sandwich out of the package and started on it. Donny walked around him and came face-to-face with a likeness of himself that was both similar, and at the same time, not. It looked as if Roland had painted him without ever really seeing him, which was a fair statement, since Roland seemed to prefer to have his eyes closed when Donny was inside of him.

  Donny reached a finger out and ghosted it across a sharp line of black paint, pulling back before he touched the canvas. He shifted his eyes up, and found Roland staring at him, trepidation and hope warring behind his eyes.

  “Is this,” Donny started, “is this how you see me?”

  Roland licked his lips and looked down. “It’s how I feel you.”

  Donny physically reacted, his body jerking at the shoulders and then settling while his heart beat a furious tempo inside his chest. It was the truest thing Roland had said to him since they’d met and the weight of it settled around Donny in a comforting way. This was okay. This was progress.

  Donny held his hand out for the empty sandwich package, and Roland handed it over. “Come on, Roland,” Donny said, taking one last look at the canvas and walking past him, leaving the room.

  Roland followed him to the kitchen. Donny put the packaging in the trash, picked up the half of his sandwich he’d left behind and took a bite.

  “Can I have some milk?” Donny asked.

  “I don’t have milk.”

  “You do,” Donny countered as he swallowed the last bite of his own sandwich.

  Roland rolled his eyes and opened the fridge, his face registering surprise when he saw the container of milk on the bottom shelf. He steeled himself and stepped around Donny, taking a glass out of the cabinet near the sink and filling it up. He set it down and slid it toward Donny.

  “You should have one, too,” Donny suggested.

  Roland shot a look over his shoulder, but obediently pulled another glass down and filled it up, taking a drink and resting his butt against the sink. They stared at each other silently until they’d both finished their drinks. Roland held his hand out and Donny slid the empty glass into it. Roland turned to put them in the sink, shifting the empty vodka bottles to make room.

  “Just throw them away, Roland,” Donny sighed. He picked up the two bottles and dumped them into the trash. He looked down at Donny and worried his lip between his teeth. Donny held his hands in front of him, and Roland took a small step toward him. Donny clasped his fingers around Roland’s wrists and ran his hands up to above Roland’s elbows, pulling him closer.

  “I’m trying.” Roland’s voice cracked, and his hair grazed across Donny’s cheeks. Donny mentally likened it to a cocoon wrapping the two of them up together, away from the world. Donny cupped Roland’s elbows in his hands.

  “I believe you, Roland, and I’ll take just about anything— you can sulk, and yell, and throw things, you can even close your eyes when I come inside you, but the next time you throw me out of your house will be the last.”

  Roland nodded, and Donny slid his hand up to grasp the back of Roland’s neck. He pulled him down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Roland quivered and opened his mouth, darting his tongue out to lick the seam of Donny’s lips.

  “I’ll go see my doctor about a physical this week,” Donny whispered, pulling back to run his fingers through Roland’s hair and push it behind his ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Donny turned and repositioned his grasp on Roland, sliding his hand to Roland’s and twining their fingers together, guiding them both back to the bedroom.

  Chapter 12

  Interfering. Meddling. Caring

  Roland’s skin felt heavy and hot. He opened his eyes, blinking against the daylight and squinting until he was used to the brightness. He tried to shift his weight, but there was something on top of him. Roland looked down his body to find a pale and slender arm draped across his torso. His body tensed when he realized it was Donny’s arm, and that meant Donny was in bed with him. That meant Donny had spent the night. He lifted Donny’s arm away from his stomach and tried to roll out of bed, but Donny clamped his hand against Roland’s flesh, pulling his back against Donny’s chest with a surprising show of strength.

  “Not yet,” Donny mumbled as he burrowed his face into Roland’s hair and pressed a kiss to his spine. “Relax,” he added, loosening his hold.

  Roland closed his eyes and willed his muscles to settle. He hadn’t been in bed with someone, hadn’t been held this way in a long time— since Cody. Back then, Roland had just wanted the things Donny accused him of the night before. Cody had wanted more, Cody had been patient and had tried, but Roland hadn’t been willing.

  So what was different now?

  Donny’s hand drew shapes across the flat of Roland’s torso, his fingers tangling softly in the thatch of hair that surrounded his morning erection. Donny dipped his hand lower, tracing his finger in a feather-light swirl up the straining length, before pressing against his leaking slit with a slow swipe of his hand. Roland’s entire body shuddered and he bucked against Donny’s warm palm.

  Roland heard nothing beyond his own heavy breaths and the soft slick of precum sliding between Donny’s hand and his cock. He closed his eyes when Donny tore open a condom, and pressed the lids tighter when he heard the click of the lube opening. He trembled as Donny slicked his shaft in time with the strokes on Roland’s cock. He cried out as Donny entered him with a strong and smooth thrust.

  Donny forced his other arm between Roland’s side and the sheets, bringing his hand up and around to lay flat against Roland’s chest. He pumped his cock into Roland, all the while pressing tender kisses against Roland’s spine and shoulder blades.

  Roland’s mind was warring with his cock. He hadn’t had—didn’t want—this level of affection, but the way Donny twisted his hand around his cock with tight and lazy tugs was too good to pass up. Roland fucked his cock into Donny’s hand and Donny fucked his cock harder into Roland’s ass.

  “Your ass is amazing, Roland.” The hand on his chest dug in harder, and Donny released Roland’s cock to leverage himself, pushing Roland onto his stomach. Donny fucked him that way, with Roland’s cock rutting into the tangled sheets until he was babbling incoherent words he didn’t understand.

  Roland angled his ass in the air so he could reach down and stroke himself. His balls were hot and tight, ready to explode at any moment, and his whole body jerked as he curled his fingers around his shaft. Donny muscled Roland onto his knees and grabbed a handful of his hair, using it to force Roland’s face into the bed while he pummeled him from behind.

  “More, please more,” he moaned, and Donny pressed down harder, his palm now flat on the side of Roland’s head, his cock slamming against his prostate with every stroke.

  Roland wanted to see. He could feel things churning inside of him, his heart, his mind. It was almost like the gears of an old broken watch starting to turn and work again. He just knew if he could see Donny right now, he could paint him later. He opened an eye and tried to tilt his head out of Donny’s hold so he could see, but Donny stopped him.

  “No.” A simple command and Donny’s hand splayed out across Roland’s face, fingers over his eyes and nose, a thumb digging into his mouth.

  “Please." Roland closed his eyes and could see the painting coming to life in his mind. The way he would layer the brush strokes to show the built up energy and strength behind Donny’s pale skin.

  Donny’s hips slammed into him with enough force to move them both up the bed. Roland’s channel constricted and tightened as Donny’s cock pulsed inside him.

  “Jesus fuck, Roland,” Donny grunted, pressi
ng himself deeper inside, his entire body shaking from his orgasm. Donny clawed at Roland’s shoulder with his free hand before he pulled out and collapsed on the bed, pulling the condom off, tossing it onto the floor.

  Roland made a frustrated whining sound, jerking his cock and fucking himself into the mattress. Donny rolled over and pushed Roland onto his back, straddling him and taking his cock in hand. He jerked Roland’s shaft and cupped his balls.

  “I’m gonna…” Roland opened his mouth on a gasp.

  “I know.” Donny leaned down and sealed his lips around the tip, flattening his tongue and swallowing as Roland’s cum filled his mouth.

  Donny’s chest heaved and he was covered in sweat. He pushed his hair out of his face and wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb before he settled on his heels between Roland’s spread thighs. He rested his palms flat on Roland’s legs and slid them up and down, causing Roland’s skin to prickle up with goosebumps. He closed his eyes, and Roland wished he knew what Donny was thinking.

  He watched the way the dip in Donny’s throat sucked in and the way his skin wrapped so delicately around his ribs when he inhaled. He memorized the way Donny’s shoulders slumped and the barely noticeable way his fingers flexed against Roland’s flesh when he exhaled.

  Donny opened his eyes. His lips quirked in a shy sort of smile and he patted Roland’s legs, pushing back and crawling over him to get out of bed.

  “Are you leaving?” Roland asked, watching Donny’s every move as he stood and stretched.

  “Yes.” Donny gathered his clothes off the floor.

  Roland turned his back to Donny. He didn’t want to show even the slightest hint of disappointment, or worse— hurt.

  “But so are you. Come on.” The bed dipped as Donny pressed a knee into it so he could reach forward and touch his palm flat against Roland’s back. “Let’s shower. We have some errands to do today.”

  Roland looked over his shoulder at Donny. “We?”

  Donny nodded. “We need to go to the grocery store, for one. And fill that prescription, for two. And you should probably get some more cat litter for Pete if you want him to be here, don’t you think?” Donny stood again and went into the bathroom.