by BA Tortuga
Those were the only paintings he’d hung so far. It had taken him a while to figure out how he wanted to display them. The only other painting he’d hung was one very small one Tucker would recognize. “Come here.”
He led Tucker all the way back through the house and stopped at an angled wall outside the master bedroom. He’d hung Hope here, where it could be seen through the door from the bed. “I thought you should have it back now that we’re together here.”
Tucker reached out, stroked the painting, a smile on his lips. “It’s perfect. This is perfect.”
“You like it here? That makes me happy.” He’d been nervous about it. You never could tell with creative people. Tucker could have looked at it and hated it or something. He leaned up and kissed Tucker’s chin through those wonderful whiskers.
“I like it.” Tucker took another kiss. “I like you. Here. Us.”
It didn’t get any better. He was sure of it. “Yep. Me too.” He pulled Tucker back into the kitchen. “Limeade. Before you shrivel up. I’ve got those few more pictures I want to hang, and then I thought maybe I’d take my stuff out of my suitcase and hang it up, put it in the dresser you told me to use. Finally.” He gave his stud of a lover a little shove farther into the kitchen and went after the biggest of the paintings.
“You want one, or you just want a sip of mine?”
“I’m good. I’ve got water. Thank you.” He could tell Tucker wanted him to share, but he was picking his cheats, and straight-up sugar was a total no. He would start using the weights, but he’d have to run in the middle of the night not to die of heat, and he had better things—tigers—to do at that hour. He could maybe jump rope in the barn.
“’Kay.” Tucker went to the kitchen, turned on the music, and started singing as he clanged and banged and made his drink.
He smiled at the music. Tucker put on music a lot. So far mostly stuff he remembered from high school and his first couple of years in the city. It was fun.
He picked up the big painting, the biggest of the bunch, and carried it around the corner, down a short hall, around another corner and through a doorway to this completely empty room near the bedroom. All the walls were white but one. He assumed that the gray wall was original and Tucker had built the rest of them.
He jogged back out and found the hammer and the wall hooks that he’d stolen from other walls where art used to be. He wondered what was on those walls before he arrived.
He hung the big painting in the center of the gray wall and admired the soaring birdmen, all ruffled feathers and dark silhouettes against blue sky. The others were mostly lit by streetlights at dusk or dawn, but this one seemed more like early morning. Maybe the morning rush through Midtown or something. It was busy.
It was happy, somehow, and that suited him, that Tucker’s memories of the city weren’t all bad.
It was still kind of amazing to Calvin how he could do that for Tucker. Turn things around, make him smile, inspire him to paint in blue and white instead of black and red.
Tucker was moody, he got that, but he was hopeful he could help Tucker keep a healthy balance at least. Things like regular meals and a little fun could go a long way.
Satisfied with the placement of this one, he went to grab the last two from the kitchen.
Tucker was drinking his limeade and drawing on a blank wall, a human-sized birdman appearing on the plaster.
He hung back to watch not only the image taking shape, but his lover as well. Tucker looked like a big kid standing there sketching on the wall, sucking limeade through a straw. He didn’t recall seeing any mural-type art anywhere else in the house, but it was hard to know whether this was something new or whether Tucker had just painted over everything else.
“Do you do this a lot?”
“Draw? Yeah. I paint over all the time. I like the idea that there are layers and layers of art in the walls.”
“Hmm. Yeah.” He looked at the last two paintings, suddenly imagining all the demons painted one on top of another, separated only by layers of white paint. He found that disturbing. It wasn’t like he could see them anywhere, but just knowing they were there was a little disconcerting.
Whoa. He shook that image off. He hadn’t meant to go there at all.
No wonder Tucker worried. How weird.
“You okay? Get a cold chill?”
“Yup. Just fine.” He gave Tucker a quick kiss to prove it—to both of them. “I’m going to go hang these.” He grabbed the paintings and wound his way through the rooms again, this time finding one with a view of the pool. He hung the paintings, happy with his choices. They would have to pass by at least one of the paintings going pretty much anywhere in the house.
“I’m all done,” he called, turning corners again until he figured out how to get back to the kitchen. He was starting to get used to the place.
“Excellent. I am too.” The sketched-out birdman was tangled in some yarn, the strings caught in his feathers.
“Aw. Poor birdman. Was he trying to make a nest?”
“I was thinking that thing that you do with the strings…. Uh. Cat’s cradle? You know about that? I like the nest thing too, though.” Tucker winked at him. “I dropped the marker and had to improvise. You’d be surprised how much of art is an accident.”
“Oh yeah? You’re giving away all of your artist secrets.” He smiled at Tucker. “Nothing about modeling is an accident. Ever. Sometimes you get lucky, like if you’re outdoors and the light does something cool all of a sudden, though.”
And then sometimes you don’t get lucky. Or you’re just not good enough. Sometimes you might as well be invisible.
He felt his forehead pulling down like storm clouds to go with the hollow feeling in his chest. He didn’t want Tucker to see him all frowny when they were having such a nice day, so he turned away and went to get more water. “You have enough to drink?”
“I do.” Tucker followed him. “Not much about commercial art like you do is accidental. I think that’s harder sometimes. I’ve always said I could never be a model. I’m not good at still.”
“Still is one thing I am good at.” It was apparently something else he was missing. He wished he knew what it was; he’d change it. Fix it. He grabbed another bottle of water and opened it up.
“They’re fuckers, you know. I’d happily beat them down for you.”
He sipped the water, then put the cap carefully back on the bottle and put it down. “They’re not. The other guy was just better. I know better than to get my hopes up, but Michael said—” Michael had told him it was going to be his. “I worked really hard. I wish I could ask what I’m missing. What’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. And yeah, I know, I’m supposed to be all reasonable and thoughtful and shit, but I love you, and I think you’re the finest thing since sliced bread, and I don’t have to be anything but in love. I think you’re all the good things, and I want to smack the living shit out of anyone that hurts you.”
“You’re right. You don’t have to be anything but in love.” Calvin put his hands on Tucker’s chest and played with the lovely curls. “You don’t have to be reasonable. You know I like how you look after me. I know I’m enough for you. It feels good not to have to work to be what you want.”
It was his career, though, and he was going to have to be reasonable. Or at least rational. Eventually. What Tucker saw wouldn’t get him a job.
“You are. You’re… my hope, huh?” Tucker held him, rocked him nice and easy. “I want to make it all go away. I can’t, but I sure want to.”
“You help a lot. You’re good for me.” Hope was good, but it could be dangerous too. “Just be careful about what you’re hoping for. And how. You know? I probably should have made some better decisions.”
Tucker shook his head. “No, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I made myself sick hoping it would help get me that job and ended up losing a couple of days when I didn’t. That’s what I
mean. Hope for the right things.” He leaned into Tucker, knowing at least that Tucker was the right thing to hope for.
“Ah. Yeah. I hear you.” Tucker’s hands were gentle, warm, loving on him.
He sighed. “I wanted that job. I wanted it so bad, Tucker, and I thought I had it. I really did. I know it’s ridiculous, but now I just feel ugly. Not to you, I know. But to me.”
“That’s not ridiculous. You… you work hard to make yourself look like other people need you to. When people talk bad about my work, about my art, I feel like a freak, like I’m dirty because they’re looking at my soul, my secrets. It hurts.”
That was exactly it. “I feel just like that. Like I put everything out there and they just….” Rejected him. He was trying not to be a cry baby about it, but Tucker hit it dead-on. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that it wasn’t about being good enough; it was about being right. He wasn’t right for what they wanted. He’d get there, but now it was still raw today.
He nodded. “Yeah. It hurts. I’m glad you understand.”
“I’m glad you’re here with me.” Tucker kissed his temple. “I’m sorry it hurts.”
“You make it better. You make me better.” He sighed. “Okay. Enough feeling sorry for myself.”
“You want to go set shit on fire?”
He laughed. The last time he’d been at a bonfire he’d been sixteen and Jimmy Brandt had kissed him. “Yeah. I do. You think it will be dark enough by the time we’re done setting it up?”
“If not, we’ll get in the pool and cool off while we’re waiting.”
“Ooh. I can put on my bathing suit.” He stepped back from Tucker and gave him a smile. “You’re going to like it.”
Tucker’s bright eyes started to twinkle. “I can’t wait.”
Neither could he. Watching Tucker swim across that pool was inspiring, to say the least.
They loaded up the rest of the paintings onto the flatbed and drove it all out away from the barn. He’d lathered himself in sunscreen, but his skin felt like it was sizzling in the sun anyway. He actually didn’t mind it so much once he’d been out there a bit, he just sweated alongside Tucker as they hauled paintings off the trailer and set them up in a funky pyramid to burn.
Tucker kept reaching over to touch him, constant, easy caresses, as if Tucker was fascinated by his skin. He liked that Tucker was keeping him close, and the way Tucker’s tanned skin just seemed to absorb the sunshine wasn’t lost on him either.
He set one more painting on the stack, starting to feel a bit short next to it. “Almost done.”
“Then we’ll go cool off in the pool, hmm?”
“Works for me. I’m sweating like a pig.” Calvin was pretty sure his sunscreen was waterproof, although part of him was so ready to just burn. A little sunburn on his shoulders, his nose, the tips of his ears—he remembered how that felt, even if it had been a lifetime ago. Vermont sun was a little kinder, though.
He picked up one more and tossed it on top, laughing when it slid back down again. “I think I’m useless at this point anyway.”
“We’ll get you re-sunscreened, some water, and in the cold pool. It’ll be perfect.”
“It sounds perfect.” He perched on the edge of the tractor seat while Tucker finished up, just watching Tucker move and trying not to burn his buttcheeks.
Tucker glowed, and Calvin swore he could see the man’s tan getting deeper by the second. He could only imagine what Tucker would look like later in the heat and the glow of the fire.
“All done?” he asked as Tucker made his way back to the tractor. He hopped off the seat so Tucker could have it and then climbed in again to perch on his knee.
“You know it. Let’s go play in the water.” Tucker leaned in and licked the sweat off his neck.
Well. Hello, lover. “Don’t make it any hotter out here than it already is.”
“I couldn’t resist.” Tucker got them moving toward the house. “I’m excited to see your suit, you know. I love to watch you, in and out of clothes.”
“I know you’re all into naked all day, and that’s lovely, trust me. I like wearing a little. You know, just enough. Plus, I am not sunscreening my privates. No way.” He snorted and held on to the back of the seat for balance. It wasn’t like he wore much. He hadn’t had anything but shorts on since he’d arrived.
“I get itchy. Clothes are hard. I love the way you wear a little.” Tucker chuckled, the sound wry. “And sunburned balls? Hurt.”
“I take it you know this firsthand? So not going there. But I have to tell you that you did pretty damn well with clothes in New York. I’d love an excuse to see you in a hat again.” He jumped off the tractor as Tucker pulled up to the barn and got the doors.
“I’d like to take you to Austin, honey, show you off.”
“Yeah? Can we? That would be so fun. What would I wear, though? Hmm.” The little Daisy Duke shorts he was wearing today were probably out. He could rock a pair of Wranglers, right?
“Well, depending on what we do, you could wear board shorts. There’s jeans. We’ll have to wing it.”
“So… no kilt?” He laughed. No. No kilt this time. He might end up with marks that weren’t Tucker’s. Board shorts could be fun—little T-shirt, cute sneakers or flip-flops, baseball hat.
“If we head toward the college or on the east side, sure. I’d worry about dudes pinching and groping.”
“Wow. I had no idea. I’m good with shorts. I can look cute as hell.” They headed back up to the house, and he put a hand on Tucker’s chest. “I’ll meet you at the pool.”
“Get us a drink, honey? I’ll pull out towels and more sunscreen.”
“I’ll bring waters. Let me get my suit on.” He winked and took off for the bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Four
TUCKER CHECKED the pool, the filter, then turned on some music and grabbed towels and one of the floating chairs for Calvin later.
Then he jumped in, gasping as the cool water lowered his body temperature in a rush.
“You started without me!” Calvin stood at the edge of the pool, posing and showing off in tight black bathing trunks that were cut low, and high, in all the right places. “You have to do my sunscreen.”
“I will.” Oh man, his mouth went dry. “Jesus, honey.”
Calvin looked pleased and preened for him. “Told you that you would like it.”
“You did. I do.” He hauled himself up and out, shaking to get the excess water off.
“You should kiss me, then.” Calvin’s hands were warm on his hips.
“Oh, yessir.” He got himself a double handful of the sweetest ass in known history and took the kiss he seemed to always be wanting.
Calvin let him right in so he could taste that tongue and share a breath. That was a beautiful thing. Sunscreen. No lobster lover. Calvin would make a grumpy lobster.
“Oh.” Calvin made a sad little sound and trailed after him as he pulled away to get the sunscreen. “Right. Sunscreen. Le sigh. You always take such good care of me.”
“It’s my pleasure. Besides, you’ll love floating in the water with me. You’ll be able to walk for well over a third of it, so you can enjoy the cool.” He slicked his hands and started rubbing all those muscles.
“Are you sure I’m not going to sink?” Calvin picked up the sunscreen and put some on his face and ears.
“Well, you can sit on the bottom, but it’s just not deep on the shallow end, and I will be right there. I can swim.”
“You’re really good at it. It’s fun to watch.” Calvin stepped away again and looked at the pool. “I’m totally nervous, though.”
“I swear, I won’t let a thing bad happen. This is gonna feel good.” Tucker hopped in, then held his hand out. “Come on, honey. Believe in me.”
“Aren’t there supposed to be stairs or something?” Calvin sat on the edge of the pool first, feet dangling in the water. “I trust you. You know I do, tiger.”
“There are stairs there wher
e the hot tub and the pool meet. Then there are ladders, four sets. Also, just so you know, the lip around the edge in the deep end is at five feet, so if you need to, you can perch.”
“All those ladders and you just jump in, huh? I don’t know, seems wiser to get in a step at a time, no? Gradually? Kind of ease into things?” Calvin was babbling. Tucker put his hands on Calvin’s hips, and when he got a nod, he lifted Calvin into the pool. Fingers dug into his arms, but Calvin stood there just fine. “Okay. I’m in. Right? Yeah. I’m in.”
“You are in.” He didn’t pull or anything. He just stood and let Calvin adjust. The water was cool and comfortable, the blistering sun finally easing.
Calvin’s fingers let up on his arms. “This is okay. I can do this. Feels good in here too.” Calvin took one step back and took his hands, then looked up from the water and smiled at him. “I’m good.”
“Cool. I can keep holding you, right?” This was a fantasy—touching and holding someone in the water.
Calvin raised one gracefully sculpted eyebrow. “You want me closer?”
“Please.” Always.
Calvin moved close again, really close, making the water splash between them. “Mmm. This is better, you’re right.”
Better didn’t start to cover it. This was perfect. “I think so.”
“So….” Calvin held his eyes. “You want to show me how to float?”
“I can do that. You just have to trust that I won’t let you fall. If you need a couple days to relax, that’s cool too.” Floating was all about relaxing.
“I trust you. I want to try it. I’d like to say ‘I ain’t scairt’ like you did, except I am a little.” Calvin smiled at him and winked.
“It just takes practice. I’m going to lift you up, huh, then help you stretch out. I’ll have you, the whole time.” He scooped one hand under Calvin’s butt.
Calvin yelped at him, laughing. “You just want to grab my ass.”
“Well, yes. But….” Tucker helped Calvin stretch back, letting Calvin take his time, learn where he was in this new watery world.