True Colors

by Clare London

  “Well, for a romantic offer like that….” Miles grinned back. He slid an arm around the other man’s back and the two of them melded together comfortably. He touched his lips gently to Zeke’s, but Zeke’s mouth opened greedily, and he leaned into the kiss with an awakening passion.

  “You been promising me this since you jumped me at the show, Winter,” moaned Zeke. They sank back where they sat, holding each other closely, leaning against the soft cushions.

  Miles could feel their hearts beating faster, his chest against Zeke’s. He could feel the goose bumps rising across his shoulders and down his arms. “I remember you doing the jumping, Roswell,” he murmured. Everything tasted so sharp and sweet tonight. He could see Zeke’s torso moving with the slightest breath; he could hear the soft bubbles in his throat as he swallowed. Zeke’s lips were rich and plump and tasted of everything good, from raspberries to toothpaste. Everything was bright and precious and rich beyond money…. “Zeke, come back with me now.”

  “To your apartment?” Zeke’s voice was a mumble. He was fumbling at Miles’ waistband, tugging at the sweats and trying to slide a hand inside. Miles felt the other hand move up under his thin T-shirt, pinching at his nipples mischievously. He wasn’t sure where the other six hands came from, but that’s what the touches felt like all over his body.

  “No, not the apartment.” Miles arched under him, his breath painfully excited in his throat. Zeke was licking his throat now, and the warm, rough tongue was like a particularly erotic cat’s. “Come back to my house. We won’t be disturbed there, and I want to show you something.”

  “Something on show here, right now,” chuckled Zeke. His mouth was on Miles’ neck, but his eyes were hunting at his tented lap, and had found their willing prey. “It’s eyeful enough for me.”

  “No…,” groaned Miles. “More than this.”

  Zeke sighed, sounding unconvinced. His hand slid triumphantly inside the sweats, and curled possessively around Miles’ rapidly swelling cock. When he spoke, he was breathless with desire. Needy. “Need you, Miles. Need your touch—need to feel you. Can’t see what we can get there that we can’t get here, unless… you got a bigger bed?”

  Miles laughed. Zeke’s touch was magnificent, sure and firm and seductive. He was aching fiercely for him already. “Sure. Several bedrooms, in fact. We could play musical beds… keep us amused for hours….”

  Zeke’s answering laugh was soft and wickedly sensual. “Woke up earlier with a raging hard-on, Winter, and where were you?”

  Facing that drama downstairs, remember? But Miles smiled. Zeke knew, of course.

  “Still aches,” Zeke murmured. “Aches deep and hard.” He grabbed a handful of the shirt Miles was wearing. “I like the look of you in my clothes, man. Red could really be your color.” He sighed. “And I’m going to like you a lot better out of ’em.” He nudged the sweats down over Miles’ thighs, exposing his bare skin.

  Miles gasped. His thick, hot cock bobbed up with the delight of freedom, glistening with urgent excitement. Zeke chuckled with pleasure, and then slid carefully off the couch. His body nestled between Miles’ outstretched legs, his head at his groin. He took a generous handful of Miles’ aching, shifting balls and blew gently on them. Miles groaned loudly. And then Zeke’s firm, damp lips engulfed him. Greedily.

  “So when do you want to go to your place?” The words were muffled, vibrating around the oversensitive flesh of Miles’ shaft.

  “Now is fine,” Miles gasped. How did Zeke do that? Talk and suck so magnificently at the same time?

  “Right now?” teased Zeke.

  Miles groaned again. His lover’s tongue was lapping softly at the length of his cock, tugging the skin up and down, tormenting the exposed crown and flipping the tip of his tongue against it. It’s been a hell of a night. Miles barely understood how, after all that had happened, he could feel so desperate for sex. For Zeke. He was only just realizing how charged he felt; how his body thrummed with suppressed emotion and desire. With need. “Soon, then.” His voice gargled in the back of his throat.

  “Okay,” murmured Zeke, with more soft laughter. His mouth paused in its work and he pulled a little away from Miles’ groin, to be able to speak more clearly. “Soon is good; that’s agreed then. Take me to yours and find me some decent breakfast, and perhaps we’ll hide out there for a few days—and nights. I can live with that.” He swallowed carefully, as if he were afraid of getting too serious. “I want us together today, Miles—and tonight. I want to know it’s all over with Remy Dion, and the gallery’s still here, and the guys are still with us, wherever they are, and the secrets are all gone….”

  Miles couldn’t speak, but he nodded.

  Zeke tightened his lips again around the crown of Miles’ cock and teased out a drop of pre-come with his tongue. Miles didn’t recognize the sound that came out of his mouth, a mixture between an anguished yelp and a whimper. Zeke’s voice was in his head; murmuring around his swollen flesh. It was all part of the caress, all part of the worship. “Miles, I want to know that you’re still here….”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere else,” whispered Miles.

  “Don’t let me go,” Zeke whispered back. He was very flushed. “It’s not just your smooth talk I’m hearing, right?” He let Miles’ cock slip completely off his tongue and stared up at him, drops of saliva shining on his mouth. He was panting, looking very wild, and his tongue flickered out and licked at his lips. He grinned. “You look incredibly sexy,” he growled. “Taste it too. Spread out for me, cock straining out of your pants, calling out its need. Time for you to come for me, I think.”

  He pressed Miles’ thighs farther apart, hampered a little by the sweats down below the hips, and his long fingers folded deliberately around Miles’ cock. Miles sucked in a breath, but all Zeke did was squeeze him gently. A lone fingertip teased at the little thread of skin attached to the crown. It was superb, agonizing. Miles glared at his tormentor, kneeling in front of him. The sensation of that simple touch was astonishingly acute. He growled with frustration. “Harder, Zeke.”

  “Ohhh no.” Zeke grinned at him, his eyes bright with mischief. “This’ll do it, Miles, just as well. Softly… slowly. This’ll have the required effect, I promise you.”

  Miles shuddered, his mouth opening in a strange, silent groan. He shut his eyes and lifted his hands, helplessly, seeking some kind of friction. But Zeke’s firm, deliberate touch kept the control just out of his reach. “Hurts, Zeke… Christ. Need more.”

  Zeke hushed him, laughing softly. The pads of his fingertips stroked; patted; teased.

  Miles sighed. Fabulous. Agonizing…. His eyes opened abruptly, suddenly very wide. A wave of involuntary sensation was rolling out along his nerves and his body shivered in anticipation of something it no longer had control over. “Shit. But how… that’s… oh my God.”

  “I think we know what’s happening here,” Zeke murmured. He didn’t stop stroking, didn’t increase the pace. “Relax. Let it come.”

  “I can’t stop it,” groaned Miles, in protest. His thighs shook with tension and his heart was racing. The ecstasy was rich, and precious, and coiling tightly in his gut. He’d never known such a feeling, without fierce stimulation around his cock; he’d never known such a gentle, simple, devastating touch.

  “Don’t try,” Zeke ordered. He sat back on his heels, just his fingers playing with the shuddering shaft, jutting out from between Miles’ legs. He bit gently at his lower lip, watching the skin stretching over the engorged flesh. His other hand strayed carelessly to his own lap. “Let it come, Miles. Come for me, man.”

  Miles arched high, unable to stop the force of his reaction. His head went backward, hard against the couch, and his feet lifted from the floor. He no longer had any feeling for whether Zeke still held him or not. All he could feel was the throb of release, and the heat bursting from the tip of his cock; damp, angry spurts, running down the column of purple-red flesh, covering his lower belly, covering the retr
eating fingers of his lover, who was laughing, laughing, with delight and his own excitement.

  “For you, you bastard,” he gasped, laughing as well as sobbing, his flesh rippling with the aftershock. “All for you.”

  ZEKE watched as Miles came slowly back to his senses.

  Better than any movie.

  He smiled at Miles’ dazed expression and sat back on his heels. Making sure Miles was following every move, he licked the sticky threads of Miles’ come from his fingers. One by one. Very carefully.

  Miles gasped and reached out, clumsily trying to grab Zeke, but Zeke laughed and moved faster. He knelt up and pushed Miles back onto the couch cushions. He slid his hands under Miles’ T-shirt and peeled it up and over Miles’ head.

  Zeke was surprised to find he was clumsy too. Maybe it was the events of this evening, taking their toll; maybe it was the sexy, possessive look in Miles’ eyes. Whatever the reason, it took a couple of tangled attempts to get Miles’ clothes off. He wriggled when one of his arms got caught in the cotton fabric, and cursed when he tried to kick off his sweats but they got bunched around his ankles. Zeke wanted to laugh; he also wanted to suck in that moment’s breath and keep it forever. Didn’t know what the hell he wanted, really.

  Smiling, he grabbed the discarded shirt and, ignoring Miles’ protests about struggling to the bathroom, wiped his lover’s belly with it, cleaning off the rest of the warm, glutinous seed. Then he stripped off his shorts. They were both naked; they were grinning hungrily at each other; they both knew exactly what they wanted.

  “Bloody couch,” Miles muttered. He pulled himself fully upright and when his weight made the cushion bounce, took advantage of it to push Zeke back down instead. Their mouths nipped and kissed and touched… then Miles got impatient. He grasped Zeke’s thighs and wriggled in between them, spreading them apart.

  Zeke felt his heart skip some complicated dance movement and his cock bounced up from its nest of damp, dark curls; hot and red and inviting. He gazed at Miles, smiling; loving that look in Miles’ eyes. Yeah. Possessive. That’s it. “That business with the fingerprints, and Remy.” Zeke frowned. Amazing he could still be distracted…. “Was that true, Miles? That they can use the painted prints to connect her with the break-ins?”

  “I have no idea,” grunted Miles. “Don’t you ever shut up and just enjoy?” His fingertips ran reverently along the vein of Zeke’s shaft. He was watching it spring and flex in ecstatic response.

  “What? But you sounded so damned sure about it in the gallery….”

  Miles shrugged. “It was enough to scare her—to make her confess more, I think. That’s all I wanted to do.”

  “Devious bastard.” Zeke whistled, impressed. He hitched himself up on his elbows, also watching as Miles’ caresses coaxed him fuller and further. Damned hot. “So is that how you do all your business?”

  “Find out yourself,” whispered Miles. He dipped his head down to Zeke’s groin and lapped underneath the wrinkling sac.

  “Do I need an appointment, then?” gasped Zeke. He relaxed back into the touch. He’d concentrated on Miles’ enjoyment so far, and now he was aware of the heavy, aching need between his own legs.

  Miles’ mouth was very insistent; he felt a delicious lassitude creeping over his limbs. His legs stretched wider, his hips straining up to capture Miles’ wet touch.

  “I can give you ten minutes.” Miles laughed gently. His breath brushed through Zeke’s pubic hairs. “Got nothing else on my calendar at the moment.”

  “Only ten minutes?” Zeke thought he might protest, but then Miles’ impatient lips were on his cock, and Miles’ strong, confident fingers were probing at his entrance, and he felt his body opening out to Miles as if his very soul were being peeled open. “Damn,” he groaned. “That might… just… be enough. Don’t you ever dare tell anyone how fast I come.”

  “So shut the fuck up and relax,” growled Miles. He slid his fingers inside Zeke and then Zeke could feel him searching for that very spot, the one he always seemed to find so very easily and surely. Damned quick learner too.

  He found it. Zeke felt the ripple of agony and ecstasy roll from his head down to his curling toes. Suddenly all the jokes had gone, the banter had deserted him. He could feel the saltiness of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he was scared of what it might mean. Perhaps the shock of the evening was finally catching up with him. Perhaps… it was something else.

  His body shivered, his arms reaching for Miles. “Hold me, Miles,” he gasped. “That’s what you said you’d do, man.”

  Please….

  “Trust me, Zeke.” Miles’s voice sounded a long way away, and he sounded suddenly worried. Worried for whom? “It’s going to be all right. I’m still here. Always will be, as long as you want me. Let me show you.” He tightened his arm around Zeke’s waist and his lips slid over Zeke’s cock, tugging it away from his belly, deep into Miles’ mouth.

  Zeke wanted to be with him, wanted to become part of him. He groaned loudly, and his body shuddered, every muscle tensing, every nerve thrilling. “Inside me….”

  Miles shook his head, his hair brushing Zeke’s belly. “We don’t have anything on hand. Later. Later is fine. I won’t let you go. Let me….” He sucked harder and twisted his fingers inside Zeke’s ass, stroking him, stimulating him. Zeke felt his body arch like a bow, his head falling back, his cock thrusting into Miles’ mouth.

  “Soon….”

  Miles laughed, a throaty, happy sound. “Soon is good.” He dragged his tongue along the vein and he crooked his finger so that it pressed one last, sweet time on Zeke’s prostate.

  Zeke cried loudly when he came in Miles’ mouth. Very loudly, with a voice full of ecstasy and anguish.

  He cried Miles’ name.

  MILES walked across his luxurious dining room and flipped on another light. He hadn’t been here for a few days, but the housekeeping service had been in to dust and get it ready for his next visit.

  Zeke whistled loudly from the other side of the room. Miles turned around to look at him. He was dressed in a bright, possibly green T-shirt with some barely legible slogan splashed across it, and in jeans that hung low on his hips, and were frayed around the hems. He looked rather underdressed, and totally careless of the fact.

  Fabulous.

  “Look at this place. You’ll turn a boy’s head, Miles Winter, with your mansion.”

  They had called the limo at just after dawn. There’d been no sign of reporters at the gallery at that hour, though Miles decided they shouldn’t wait any longer before the press came looking for them at the scene of the previous night’s drama. They’d showered quickly and he’d dragged his suit and shirt back on. Zeke had clambered into clean clothes, grumbling all the while about needing sleep, and Miles had packed a few things for him to take, in case they stayed away for a few days or more.

  Miles had packed up the 4:Y picture, Zeke had thrown in a sketch pad and set of pencils, and then the limo had arrived to take them to Miles’ house.

  Miles now leaned against the back of a chair, watching Zeke’s gaze roam all over the room. He resisted the urge to check the zipper of his pants. He was sure it was discreetly fastened. Or should be. He sighed. It had been an eventful journey here for all of them: him, Zeke, and Zeke’s rampant libido. Miles had found just enough time to close the hatch in the limo before Zeke fell on his lap with laughter and lips. Then he’d barely pushed them both through the front door of his house before Zeke had pushed him against the wall, slipped his jacket off onto the floor, and began nipping at his neck.

  Miles was damned glad there were no permanent staff here.

  He pushed the chair back under the table, at the same time trying to push away a fantasy that nagged at him. A vision of peeling those outrageous clothes off Zeke; of laying his naked body back on this very table; of kneeling up on the chair so that he was just the right height to wriggle between Zeke’s thighs. Then Zeke reaching for his pants zipper—again—with one hand and b
randishing a foil packet in the other. Whispering and urging Miles to take him. Now. Hard.

  Miles sighed. He was hot again. Damned hot! His hair felt a mess and his business clothes felt sticky on his tired body. He’d never felt so continuously aroused in all his life. He wondered if Zeke would want to do it in every room of the house, not just the bedrooms? He thought it very likely, judging by the stamina of the man’s sexual appetite. And I’ll enjoy every minute. He smiled to himself. They fed off each other; the desire was as eager in both of them. “It’s no mansion, Zeke, just a house. A big one, I guess. I never really thought about it.”

  “Like hell.” Zeke grinned. He gestured at the full-length tapestry curtains; the well-polished parquet floor; the expensive fittings around the walls. “It’s a gentleman’s room, man. A rich gentleman’s room.”

  “No, seriously.” Miles spoke slowly. He was surprised that he’d never considered it that way before. Zeke challenged so many things in his life. He provoked him, time and again. “I like the freedom that money gives me. I’m not about to give it all up. But I don’t find that much enjoyment in spending it. I don’t add any more furniture; don’t redecorate any more often. I just like things to be attractive and efficient.”

  “Cute,” came Zeke’s whisper at his ear. How had he moved around the table so fast? “I’m teasing. You’ll need to work on that sense of humor.” His hand brushed at Miles’ ass, squeezing a cheek. “Doesn’t matter to me whether you’re in a mansion or a mud hut.” He grimaced. “Well, that’s an exaggeration, of course. I’m a little too spoiled now, to squat for relief in a mud hut.”

  “Does it annoy you? Embarrass you? My money….”

  Zeke snorted. “What do you think I am, some kind of fortune hunter? I’ve never been embarrassed by money, Miles. Just never had any of my own for any length of time. But it’s useful. It’s….” Description escaped him for a moment. “It’s there, isn’t it? Or it isn’t. I’ve known both.”

  In the distance, a telephone rang, but Miles didn’t move to answer it. “Red knows to call me on my cell phone,” he said. “So do my managers. And the police, when they want us to go down to the station. Anything else will be journalists or stalkers.”