by BA Tortuga
“They tell me. They leave me alone.” He would pour himself out on the canvases, and the ones that were real would show themselves, demand more of his soul than the others. Then, once they were satisfied, they disappeared so others could come.
“They….” Calvin turned to look at him, then moved back to the bed, perched on the edge beside him, and caught his eye. “Tucker.” Calvin reached out, lifted a lock of his hair and tucked it gently behind his ear.
“Mmm.” He leaned in, loving how Calvin’s skin warmed when they touched.
“Who is ‘they,’ baby?”
Oh, Tuck. Honey. Be careful here. Remember, hide your crazy. The voice was soft but sure, the warning flashing a warm pink behind his eyes. “I just mean the ideas. The dreams. The concepts, you know?”
Not everyone saw demons. He knew that. Most people didn’t, and sometimes the question wasn’t if someone was crazy; it was how well a guy could laugh it off.
Calvin nodded at him silently, then leaned down and kissed him. “So how many are in the Hope series?”
“It’s not a series. There’s just the one.” It was special. It made him feel like, no matter what, there was a light for him.
“Mm-hmm. I figured.” Calvin climbed across him and slipped back under the comforter. “Chilly out there.”
“It is. It gets warm under the lights.” He drew Calvin close. “The birds are going to be big, I think. They have a story to tell.”
“Do you know what it is yet?” Calvin fit right against him like he belonged there. “Mmm. This is nice.”
“I don’t. I know there are men that are changing and birds that are changing and some of both that are caught in the middle, but that’s all”—they’ve said—“I know.”
“Do you know why? I mean why they’re changing? Either way?”
“I don’t think they have a choice. No one wants the darkness to come for them, right? You’re supposed to crave the light.” He wasn’t sure about that, though. There was something about the shadows and the corners, about looking around to see the things you weren’t supposed to see that fascinated his eyes.
“Supposed to, I guess. I don’t all the time. There’s something comforting about the dark. Lots of good things happen in those places where you don’t need your eyes.” Calvin chuckled. “Ask any photographer I work with. Light can be tricky.”
“Yes. Yes, and it can lie too….” Maybe not hide so easily, but it burned the truth away.
“I’m not sure if it lies or just casts shadows. I’m not sure it matters. You can’t have one without the other anyway. Timmy would love this conversation. He’s all into the codependence of things. The psychology of opposing ideals. Especially when he’s stoned.”
Tucker chuckled softly. “I just want Doritos and to listen to really good music.”
“Popcorn. But I’m with you on the music. I like weed. It doesn’t make me fat. Unless I eat too much popcorn.” Calvin laughed. “Sure beats the shit some models I know put into their bodies.”
“I bet. I mean, that’s a shit ton of pressure. No one ever has to see me. I’m invisible most of the time.” He couldn’t imagine being watched all the time.
“It can be. I seem to be pretty good at not getting rattled on set. It’s more the pressure they put on themselves when people aren’t watching, I think. I mean, I get it—I’ll spend four or five hours a day at the gym. And I wanted that burger tonight because I hadn’t eaten since Sunday. So who am I to judge?”
He shrugged. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He had his own demons to fight. “We all do what we got to.”
“Mmm. Yeah.” Calvin sighed. “This is the best I’ve felt in a while, tiger. You’re good for me.”
“I’m glad. You’re damn necessary.” He loved how Calvin made things focus.
“I’ve never been so happy to have done something so stupid. I don’t even take people home I meet in clubs. But you know what? You’ve never felt like a stranger. Not for one minute.”
“Maybe somehow we’re not.” Maybe they had been looking. Maybe they were meant to meet. Maybe their energies buzzed in the same frequency. Who knew?
“You think that’s possible? I mean, do you believe in that kind of thing?”
He grinned. He saw demons and men turning into birds. He built corners in his house so he had to look around them. He could believe in anything. “I think lots of things are possible.”
“Me too. After meeting you, I’m starting to think anything is. I feel optimistic around you.”
“There are worse things, honey. Hope is….” It was hope. Wonderful. Terrible. It was a thing.
“Risky. Exciting. Necessary. Hope is everything.”
“There you go.” He stretched, his back popping, his skin sliding against Calvin’s. “You want music to rest, honey? I don’t have a TV.”
“If you want. I’m good with your breathing.” Calvin stretched right alongside him, only he didn’t hear any creaking under all the muscle. Just an enormous yawn. “You want me to get the spotlights?”
“No. I’ll get them in a few.” Soon he would need to work, and he wasn’t ready to explore this space in the dark unless he was standing on the table and looking outside.
“Mm-hmm.” Calvin tucked an arm over Tucker’s chest, his breathing already settling into a sleepy rhythm.
Chapter Ten
GOD, IT was cold.
Calvin groped around and found the comforter by his feet. He reached down to haul it up over his frozen tush and noticed the spotlights were still on and smiled. Tucker must have fallen asleep too.
He rolled over looking for Tucker’s comforting body heat, but his hand went right off the edge of the bed and never found him. He blinked his eyes open.
Tucker was standing, stark naked, in the center of the room, working on a huge canvas, face a study in exhaustion and worry. The muscled body was streaked with paint and sweat as Tucker panted. The sheets proved Tucker had been in and out of bed at least once, there was a black handprint on the center of the mattress.
Calvin sat up and started to get out of bed but thought better of it just before his feet hit the floor. He was in Tucker’s space tonight, and the man wasn’t just off in his head distracted or daydreaming. Tucker was working. He needed to at least try to respect that.
Reluctantly Calvin settled into the mattress again, pulled his knees to his chest, and tucked the comforter around him. The wall he leaned against was chilly against his back. He fought with the piece of him that needed to offer Tucker something—comfort, kisses, anything—and kept his eyes on his lover.
The canvas seemed to be pure black—almost like a hole—but Tucker had a tiny knife and was carving things in the thick paint. Hundreds of birds or men maybe, just writhing and tortured in this soup of pigment. The whole thing was dizzying, in the amount of work in the time, if nothing else.
To ease his own worry, he tried to let himself experience the entire event instead of focusing in on the tension in Tucker’s shoulders or the darkness on the canvas. Stepping back that way, taking in the sharp lighting and the streaks of paint on the floor let him breathe at least.
Fuck, Tucker was handsome. His tanned bare skin stood out against the black of the canvas, the sweat making his shoulders shine and paint highlighting the line of muscle in his thigh. He moved a little frantically, but his stained fingers were skillful and sure. There was actually something beautiful about all of it.
Suddenly, shockingly, Tucker stopped, swooped down, and picked up a handful of crimson paint, slicing the red through the shiny black.
He had to gasp, the sight, the action incredibly sexual, deliberate, screaming with confidence.
Then Tucker sat down on the floor with an audible plop.
Calvin felt like a child staring at a toy he’d been told he couldn’t have. He fidgeted, toes curling, one knee bouncing, fingers tapping against his thighs.
Fuck it.
“Tiger.” He tossed the comforter aside and flew out of bed
to land on his knees next to Tucker.
“Calvin.” Tucker groaned and grabbed him, the man’s hands fiery hot on his skin. He was hauled into Tucker’s lap, held like he was necessary.
Relief and something that felt like victory made him soar. He took Tucker’s face in his hands and kissed his lover, the artist, with all of that energy.
This groan tore from Tucker as they kissed, like Tucker’s chest was about to crack open or something, and then Tucker opened for him and let him in.
I’ve got you, he thought, not wanting to break the kiss to speak just yet. He shifted to straddle Tucker’s thighs and thrust his tongue past hungry lips. I’m right here.
The paint was sticky on his skin, dragging just the barest bit where Tucker’s hands slid on him, hiccupping along his spine. Painting him.
“Give me your eyes, Tucker. Right here,” Calvin whispered finally, taking Tucker by the chin. “Look at me.”
That bright blue rolled, then settled on him, focusing, watching him like there was no one else on earth. “Did I wake you up, honey?”
“No, I got cold. I sat and watched you for a little bit.”
“It’s cold now. Crazy. It’s not under the lights. Kiss me again.” Tucker leaned in and brought their lips together.
He could do that. He could do that all night. He kissed Tucker, more curious this time, tasting and testing.
Tucker’s lips were salty, and his mouth had a strong flavor, something more than the beer he’d had with dinner. It made Calvin a little dizzy.
Tucker began to relax, the tight muscles shaking and trembling against him. No matter what, Tucker watched him, stayed with him.
He loved that he could do this for Tucker. Calvin kept close contact, sliding his hands over his lover’s cooling skin to soothe the shaking, the part of him that had wanted to do this all along finally going quiet as well. Sometimes the way they weaved into each other felt impossible to him, the way they could be exactly what the other needed just naturally—it was a gift from somewhere make-believe. Somewhere that could not possibly exist, but was real to them anyway.
He didn’t think Tucker would find that odd at all.
Tucker began to rock, and then he managed to move them to the bed with a few strong motions, settling them in the nest of blankets and pillows and sheets.
Calvin had just begun to shiver and had been about to suggest they get under the blankets himself. He wasn’t at all surprised Tucker beat him to it. He didn’t even care that he was covered in paint; it seemed perfectly right that he should be. Everything else was.
“Better. My heinie was froze.” Tucker chuckled softly, nuzzling his throat. “You smell good.”
“I smell like you, baby. You’re all over me.” Something about saying that out loud made him tingle. “You’re pretty hot when you’re painting. Your intensity, the way all that tension sits in your shoulders, your stance is so aggressive and your hands are so deliberate. I mean, it made me anxious, but it’s something to see.”
“It’s hard work. I always feel bad about saying that, but I feel like it is. Like at the end I’m worn.”
Calvin smiled, making sure Tucker saw it. “If it was easy, tiger, everyone would do it. There’s a price for talent. It’s worth paying, but it’s costly. People wonder how I can be so wiped out after getting my picture taken all day. Don’t feel bad about it. Just know not everyone gets it.”
“Oh, you have to pose. That can be agonizing. I got nothing but respect.”
Calvin loved that. The way Tucker could give praise and mean it.
“And you’re at the mercy of something completely intangible and irrational. I couldn’t do it.” Honestly. He was way too much of a control freak. Things he had no control over made him nervous, put him at loose ends. Made him fluttery. God, he hated that.
“Sometimes I don’t think I can either, but I do. I guess that’s why it’s work.”
It was his calling. Whether it was work or fun or both…. Calvin figured it didn’t really matter. “I know you’re right in the middle of this, but let’s get out for a couple of hours tomorrow anyway. Have you been to any of the museums?”
“I haven’t. I’d love to. There’s so much to look at.” Tucker’s eyes looked so young, even though they were exhausted around the edges.
“Okay, I’m on it. That’s for tomorrow. You’re going to get up again in a bit I bet. Close your eyes while you can, tiger. I’m not going anywhere.” He coaxed Tucker over to lie on his chest. “There, that’s good, right?”
“Perfect. I can hear your heart.” Tucker sounded so pleased.
“It’s remarkably settled, considering you just gave me a good dose of those baby blues. It must be happy. Hopefully it’ll make a good lullaby.” He combed his fingers through Tucker’s hair, pulling it off his face. “Sleep.”
“Sleep.” The easy agreement made him smile, as did the huge, lazy yawn and the way Tucker’s face relaxed, lines disappearing.
He wasn’t ready to doze off again yet. He was still processing the images of Tucker working, and he wanted to stare at the red paint drying on that huge canvas a little more. It was all good. He wanted to stay up and watch over Tucker a little anyway—make sure his dreams were sweet.
Chapter Eleven
CALVIN WAS wearing the best coat ever. He should have bought one of these puffy parka things years ago. It had this awesome hood with fake fur trim, and if he put it up, the wind didn’t touch him.
He didn’t need it up today, though. It was one of those wonderful winter afternoons where the sun was bright and warmed everything. It even tamed the biting wind that never seemed to quit, even in Midtown.
He was coming off two days of shooting and had gotten an obscene amount of sleep last night. He’d learned that as much as he hated sleeping alone these days, he really had to on either side of a block of work days or he was totally worthless company.
It worked—Tucker seemed to need longer sessions, and Calvin never felt like he was getting in the way when he was finally free.
He waited for Tucker in the skate rental line, figuring he’d get a jump on their date if he needed to. Tucker wasn’t always the best at being on time after a couple of days of work.
Strong, warm hands cupped his ass, the squeeze sweet, firm. “I like your coat, honey.”
Oh, right on time.
Jesus, he could feel every one of Tucker’s fingers through his leggings. He wiggled back, then turned and begged a kiss. “Hello, tiger, miss me?”
“Like a lost limb.” Tucker kissed him like they were alone, like they hadn’t seen each other in years.
That was everything he needed, right there. That and maybe a little hot cocoa. He let Tucker take as much as he wanted. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t care who was watching; he did. The more people who saw them the better. He didn’t get to show his cowboy off as much as he liked.
“Ooh, you did miss me.” He winked. “It’s a beautiful day, handsome. Thanks for coming out.” He reached up, wiped a smear of paint from beside Tucker’s nose. “Been working hard?”
Tucker nodded. “Marge sent a truck for the canvases and brought more.”
“Wow.” It boggled the mind. Seriously. Tucker was beyond prolific. Would it be rude to ask him what the hell he did with all of them? “Do you keep them all?” He traded his boots for skates and waited for Tucker to do the same, scouting out a place to sit and lace up.
“I keep some, sell some, re-gesso some and use them over. I have the wilder ones at home.”
“Seems like a lot of decision-making.” He was glad he didn’t need to do that. Michael usually sorted through his images for him. Occasionally he’d request one during a shoot if he thought it would be cool to show Timmy or put in his portfolio, but he didn’t have a big scrapbook or anything. In ten years he’d saved maybe fifty shots, if that many.
He sat on a bench and patted the empty spot next to him for Tucker to sit before bending over to lace up his skates. “I haven’t been s
kating since last winter, and that was the Rockefeller rink. I’ve never skated this rink before, so we’re both new here.”
“I’ve been a couple three times in Austin. It’s tougher than it seems it ought to be. Still, I had fun, and my ass can handle a few hard landings.”
“You take care of that ass, please.” Calvin laughed. This was going to be so much fun. “I gave myself a spectacular bruise on my hip last year trying not to barrel into a mom and her toddler. Fortunately the mark was pretty easily hidden for my shoots. Even with arnica, it stuck around for almost two weeks. Thank goodness for photo editing.” He stood up and tested his balance. It would come back to him after a turn around the rink. He’d practically been born with skates on his feet. “You’ll be fine. I got this. Just look up and keep moving.”
“Right. You don’t have to wait on me. I’m a little like a lumbering bear.” Tucker was grinning, though, eyes sparkling, face toward the sun.
The bear part he’d believe. “Baby, you’re going to be cruising in an hour.” But at some point, he knew he was going to have to break loose and get some speed going. He could wait until Tucker wanted a break. He offered his hand. “Come on. Show me what you got.”
“It ain’t much.” Still Tucker gave it the old college try, ankles shaking for the first round before he figured it out and began moving more smoothly.
He had to say, Tucker was neither graceful nor fast, but he was dogged and laughing, and even when he fell, he had a smile on his face.
Calvin swooped around in front of Tucker, skating backward to get a better look at that grin, warm as the sun. It was amazing how Tucker just threw himself at things, loved all the weird new experiences the city offered them. “You’re doing great, you know. Totally fearless. I’m impressed.”
He held a hand out for Tucker to take.
“Don’t let me drag you down with me, honey.”
“Ye of little faith.” He took Tucker’s hand and made sure he had those blue eyes on him. “You just skate.” He led Tucker a little farther from the wall and tugged gently, adding a tiny bit more speed. Slower wasn’t always easier, and it definitely wasn’t as much fun as a little wind in your hair.