Refraction

by BA Tortuga

  “I can’t wait to find out.” Calvin’s eyes twinkled at him. “I’m going to take myself on a walk, tiger. I’ll find you here after I have a look around.” Calvin kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you. Don’t be scared.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m a little nervous, but you didn’t set this up to be easy, you know? I’m fine. You work.”

  “Okay. I can do that. I know how.” In fact, he was already there, his fingers finding a spot that needed fixing, smoothing.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CALVIN LOVED how things just called to Tucker. Paint was what he saw the most of in New York, but the way those knowing fingers ran over Pandora’s box wasn’t all that different than the way those same strong, curious fingers explored his skin at night.

  He made his way farther into the barn, wondering what in the world could have called to his lover this time that would have made Tucker think he shouldn’t see it.

  The first few canvases were blatantly sexual, men caught in erotic poses, their bodies trapped in ice. As he wandered deeper into the barn, the images were of men being tortured, flayed alive, split open, and they all seemed lost, one agonized face after another, and the demons were winning each battle.

  He stopped in front of one painting, staring at it. It was a sickening and bloody portrayal of a demon tearing at a man’s scalp, the man’s face twisted and screaming in agony. It was painful to look at, and he could feel himself leaning away, wanting more distance between his sensibilities and that much violence.

  He moved on to the next one, and the one after that, making himself look at every single one until they didn’t have that hold on him anymore.

  These weren’t done by the Tucker he knew—not the artist, and not the man either. These were something else.

  He thought about what he knew of Tucker’s work. His favorite piece from Tucker’s New York show was part of the red series—the man bound in barbed wire. The demon over the man’s shoulder looked angry and hungry, but Calvin remembered clearly what Tucker told him.

  “The demon can’t have him.” Tucker had said. “He’s beyond that.”

  Was that what Tucker didn’t want Calvin to see? That he wasn’t winning?

  He looked back over his shoulder at Tucker, who was creating this totally different piece of art, this new thing that was a secret, that didn’t feel angry or ashamed or hurt. Tucker had found this, had worked through another set of demons and come out waiting for him.

  Take that, demons. And I’m here now, so you’ll behave, or you’ll have me to contend with. So there.

  He sure didn’t need to spend another minute with this kind of darkness. Not with his man playing with a pretty and complicated box that was made for joy.

  He wandered a bit more, just to see the barn and all the interesting things Tucker had collected and stored there. Tools, benches, scraps of this or that sitting in sawdust or covered with sheets. Pieces of Tucker’s creativity.

  He came around to Tucker again from a different side this time, and leaned on the edge of the table to watch.

  Tucker was singing, working the wood with a tiny sharp razor. It took a few minutes, but then Tucker looked up at him, searching his face. “Hey, honey.”

  “Hey.” He shrugged at Tucker, grinning slightly. “So… you were right. Not your best work.”

  “No. They’re… they’re just basic torture porn, but I had to work them out.” Tucker winked at him. “Artistic temper tantrums are a bitch.”

  He laughed. “In my business they call them diva fits.” He moved closer to Tucker and leaned in a little. “Just reminding myself you’re solid. You should kiss me.” He went up on his toes, offering.

  “I most definitely should.” Suddenly Tucker seemed a thousand percent more present, as if Calvin had passed some trial and Tucker wasn’t bothering to hide himself. Tucker leaned over, bringing them together the rest of the way. The first connection was warm, gentle, sweet.

  Then Tucker took his mouth like he was storming a beach, kissing him with pure heat.

  Fuck yeah. He loved Tucker like this. He held on, hands sliding around Tucker’s back, letting his lover have him.

  Tucker’s eyes focused on his like lasers, and one hand cupped the back of his head, keeping them close.

  He breathed in Tucker’s air. There was no sound but the pounding of his heart, and all he could see was bright blue. “Tiger.” He exhaled in a rush. God, it was so good to breathe again.

  “I want to love on you. Here. In this space.” That was just as clear and honest as he could be.

  Calvin nodded. Yeah, that seemed important, though he wasn’t sure why. He let his fingers wander up tanned arms and down over that broad chest. “I want that also. I’m yours, Tucker. Love me any way you want to.”

  “I never have. You’re the first to be here. The only one.”

  He understood the weight of that, what it meant to Tucker. “I can live up to that. I want to. I want to stay the only one.” The only one ever.

  “That works for me.” That sounded like a promise. Like a vow.

  Heat rose from somewhere deep, sending electricity straight through his balls, all the way out to his fingertips. He needed Tucker’s hands on him like nothing else. “Please.” He took a kiss, coming at Tucker so hard they stumbled a step or two together.

  Tucker groaned, the sound tearing out of his lover, and his shorts were shoved down, his cock slapping hard against his belly.

  “Yeah.” He twisted his hips a little to make them fall and kicked them aside, then went after Tucker’s shorts, giving them a tug and letting them slide to the ground on their own.

  Tucker reached down, slid one finger across the slit of Calvin’s cock, gathering up the drops Tucker found there before popping that finger in his lips.

  Fuck, that was the sexiest thing ever. “Naughty.” He pulled Tucker’s finger away and stuck it in his own mouth, slid his tongue around the tip and past the knuckle before closing his lips around it. “Mmm.”

  “Jesus.” Tucker’s eyes rolled, cheeks going bright red. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, I swear to God.”

  “Thank you.” This wasn’t the time to be humble. He intended to keep Tucker’s attention, drive him out of his mind. He let Tucker’s hand go and went after a nipple instead, sucking and pinching it between his teeth.

  “Calvin, fuck!” Tucker’s laugh rang out—husky and happy and wild. “There’s a mattress in the loft. It’s not nasty. Swear.”

  “You laugh, but you love it.” A bed sounded like a damn good idea. He slapped Tucker’s ass. “After you, hot stuff.”

  “Come on. Up.” Tucker herded him up a crazy ladder, and they were suddenly in a little loft that was nothing but a huge mattress covered with sheets that were stained with paint, but not gross. “Ta-da. Bed.”

  “I’m starting to like this paint-splattered bed thing.” He dove into it, rolling onto his back and sitting up on his elbows to have a look around. “It’s cozy, comfy.”

  “It is.” Tucker stared at him, the expression on his face joyous, young, just a touch wicked. Then his lover swooped down and grabbed one leg, tongue swirling around the bone of his ankle.

  He had to laugh. “Oh my God, I’ve been walking around barefoot. My feet are so gross!” Still, he kind of loved watching, and it tickled in all the right ways.

  “I’m not licking your feet, honey.” No, Tucker was heading north, stubble scraping his calf.

  Oh. Oh that was…. “That’s nice, Tucker.” Parts of him thought it was a lot more than nice. Goose bumps spread up his thigh, the sensation settling in his groin and making his abs contract reflexively. “Whoa.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Oh, evil lover. That expression was naughty as hell as Tucker spread him to get to his inner thigh.

  “What are you up to?” Calvin asked coyly, a playful little lilt in his voice. As if he didn’t know. Then again, this was Tucker, anything was possible.

  “Loving on y
ou.” That rough cheek scraped his sensitive skin, the zing making his toes curl.

  “Oh, oh.” Heaven help him, he did love that burn. He gasped, eyes locked on Tucker. It was getting harder to keep still. “Yeah. Sounds… really good.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Tucker bypassed his cock, moving to scrape along his belly, the edge of his ribs.

  “Oh, no fair! And that tickles!” He reached for his lover, buried his fingers in Tucker’s thick hair, and flopped back into the mattress. “T-tickles.” Kind of. All that rough felt so sweet too. Just right. His heels slid against the sheets impatiently.

  “I like how I can smell you everywhere. It’s deep in my soul.” Tucker’s voice sounded rich with happiness, like he was satisfied to the bone.

  He nodded. He’d swear he’d be able to scent Tucker from the far end of a crowded subway car. It was just part of his wiring now. “You’ll know I was here when you’re working. I like that.” He did. He liked that he could be out for a run or lost in that silly maze and still be a comfort and an anchor for Tucker. “Come on up here and let’s stink up these sheets.”

  Tucker laughed for him, and while Tucker did come up, he took his sweet time with it, playing and licking and nuzzling like they had nothing but time.

  They had all day. All day, all night…. Calvin wasn’t sure he had that much stamina right now, but he was more than willing to find out. “Everything tingles. Toes on up. I swear to God.”

  He drew his hands slowly over Tucker’s broad shoulders, running over the landscape of skin like he was reading Braille. Every rise, every hollow of muscle, the prominent knobs of his spine, the outline of his ribs.

  “That’s okay. Tingling sounds like being alive, right? Awake?” Tucker hummed and nuzzled into his throat, teeth just barely teasing.

  “Awake, yes. Present.” He sighed, happy and relaxed, not a thought in his head that didn’t have to do with this moment. “Together. Aware.”

  “Happy.” Tucker found his lips, eyes focused on his as they stared into each other.

  “Utterly,” he whispered. “Down deep.” It was the truth. All the other stuff was unimportant as long as he could just have this. Keep this. He kissed Tucker, slowly and deeply, holding Tucker’s eyes when he could but not needing to, letting Tucker’s sounds and his reactions fill up that same place inside.

  They rocked together, slid, both of them lingering on the good spots, laughing when things got too intense.

  “You know, tiger, I’m not working for a month at least, did I tell you?” He was little breathless, enjoying the rush and the intimacy. “I’m taking a break.”

  “Are you? Does that mean I can leave a mark?” Tucker glanced up from teasing his nipple.

  He laughed. He loved that Tucker knew just where he was going with that, and that he sounded so interested. “Yeah, baby. You can leave as many as you like.”

  “It’s like painting you with my mouth.”

  “Oh man. That sounds pretty hot.” The image in his head was, anyway. “Everything is art to you, I love that. Everything has potential.” People on the streets in New York, emotions in Tucker’s heart, Calvin’s skin, the rainbow of color in that disgusting cereal. All of it.

  “Some things are bigger, honey. This we have is bigger.”

  “Bigger than your art?” It wasn’t like it was a competition, he didn’t mean that, but Tucker’s art was so necessary for him, ingrained, and it had been with Tucker much longer than he had.

  “Yes. I can’t paint this. I don’t have the form language for what you make me feel. It’s amazing.” Tucker’s mouth fastened on the spot right above his nipple.

  “Like the ice… skating. Oh… mmm.” He sighed and arched into the pressure. “Tiger.”

  The suction was strong and steady, Tucker relaxing into it. Soft hums vibrated his skin, leaving him dizzy.

  He’d been working constantly since he was seventeen. He hadn’t allowed a mark on him that wasn’t fake tattooing or makeup in all that time except for one or two random accidents and one nasty run-in with a bike messenger.

  He inhaled slowly, matching Tucker’s steady suction, and exhaled with a soft moan. “Feels good. Makes me… muzzy.” Made him feel high.

  Tucker smiled and kept pulling with steady rhythm, one hand sliding up and down, stroking Calvin’s belly, his hip, his cock.

  “Fuck.” He reached out, one hand wrapping tightly around the back of Tucker’s neck as his whole being leaned into the touch. His hips rolled gently, and his carefully sculpted ab muscles rippled. “Your hands are so hot.” Burning. Searing. “Oh God.”

  Tucker kept feeding him one sensation after another, driving him higher and making him want to scream with how they layered.

  It wasn’t long before the sensations grew confusing. There were places where the lightest touch became painful, and others that tickled so intensely he couldn’t decide whether to giggle or moan, and ended up letting both out at once. He sought out other contact too—feet, thighs, any way he could make a connection.

  Finally he lost his grounding completely, perspective just pulling up stakes and floating away.

  Tucker had him and obviously intended to keep him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  TUCKER TURNED up the music, laughing when he heard Calvin moan from up in the loft.

  He was covered in paint, about a half dozen canvases painted in a fascinating palette of blues and purples and creams.

  The men were soaring—the birdmen from the city had transformed, lifting from the streets and pushing up into the air, lit by the lights.

  He was having a ball.

  “Is there an elevator?” Calvin called to him, peering over the top of the ladder and grinning.

  “There isn’t. That would be cool, though. An elevator.” He smiled right back, just beaming.

  “Damn.” Calvin threw a leg over the top of the ladder with a groan and climbed down slowly, rung by rung, naked butt dancing to the music all the way.

  Pretty ass. Tucker admired the climb, the way the taut little muscles moved. That was worth the cost of color TV.

  Calvin danced over and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, tiger. I am so wonderfully sore. Ooh. Look at what you’re doing! I love it.” Calvin was perfectly disheveled, hair standing up on one side, a long line across one cheek from the pillow.

  “Yeah? Me too. It has good breath, don’t you think?” Oh, that pleased him, balls to bones.

  “I don’t know what that means, exactly. But it’s so new for you, those colors and all that light. It’s lovely. Wait, how many have you done? How long was I asleep?” Calvin wandered over to check out the other canvases he’d done while his lover was sleeping so soundly.

  “A few hours? Six?” It was dark now, cool, and he was hungry. “You want some food?”

  “Sure….” Calvin seemed to have only half heard him, caught up in examining all the paintings. “These are going inside. On your walls.”

  “Are they? Okay. I told you, you can hang whatever you want, except for the ones from—” His little psycho break. “—my temper tantrum.”

  “Maybe you should hang those in the maze so I know when I’m going the wrong way.” Calvin laughed, turning to face him again, and gave him a smile brighter than the moon. “Maybe we could do a huge bonfire.”

  “Maybe. I could handle that. I don’t want them in the house.” He went to the sink and began to wash, scrubbing the paint from his hands.

  “Me neither. Wait. When did you do this one?” Calvin appeared in his peripheral vision, twisting to get a look at the mark on the back of one thigh.

  He reached out, traced the little bruise. Yummy. “After orgasm three, I think. They sorta blended.”

  “Pfft. I didn’t… did I?” Calvin looked at him. “I did? Whoa. All I know is that you were amazing. It’s never been like that, ever.” Calvin moved closer. Close enough that he could feel the body heat.

  “It was magic.” He grabbed a towel and dried his hands, then pointed them toward th
e door. “Let’s scare up something to eat. I’m hungry.”

  “You got it. Gotta feed a hungry tiger. I got these.” Calvin scooped up the clothing they’d worn into the barn and then took his hand.

  The house was dark, but the pool area was lit up, the rainbow lights warming the whole sight.

  It lit the way in, and he opened the big french door, letting the air in as he turned on the lights and the fans.

  “The sun was kind of brutal this morning, but it sure is nice here at night.” Calvin followed him inside.

  “It will be until July or so. August and September are hell.” He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and tossed one over. “Eggs?”

  “Yuck. Well, I guess I don’t know where I’ll be come August anyway. Egg whites? I can separate them.”

  “Sure. Do you cook them just the same?” He wondered if he could just eat the extra yolks. He sort of liked the yolks.

  “Yep. Just the same. Scrambled works, or an omelet if you have any veggies. And you need to keep smiling just like that. Because you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen when you smile. Just sayin’.”

  He watched as Calvin floated over and opened the fridge.

  “I bought lots of different things I thought you might like.” Peppers, onions, tomatoes, avocados—all the good things.

  “Ooh. Omelet it is.” Humming, Calvin pulled a bunch of veggies out of the fridge and laid them on the counter along with the eggs and then started looking around for other things, fitting right into his kitchen. “Cutting board… hmm.”

  “Right here. There’s a wood one and a plastic one.”

  Granny had always used the wood one, but his mom insisted on the plastic one. Some shit about cleaning it or something….

  He was pleased to see Calvin choose the wooden one. “And a nice… ah. Knife.” Calvin detoured past the kitchen table and pulled on a pair of black briefs before swooping in on the knife block. “Naked and knives. Mmm. No.” Calvin stopped and glanced up at him, smiling. “Oh. I kind of took over, huh? I’m sorry.”