Refraction

by BA Tortuga

He liked the smile he got much better than that look Calvin got when something was hard. “I won’t lie to you either. I’m curious now what you see that the camera can’t. You don’t need me to be perfect, and that’s okay with me. So until then, you can scribble on me all you like.”

  “Cool! Burgers?”

  Calvin would love it—the tickle, the caress. It was like his beard, but focused. Calvin would melt.

  “On it. Meet you at the grill.”

  “Perfect.” He headed to the grill, turned on the propane, and got it going before hopping into the water.

  THE BURGERS were yummy. Tucker’s looked better than his, of course, with the great big bun and all the fixings on it, but he was happy with his and a whole bunch of veggies Tucker had grilled to go with it.

  They followed that with a short swim, and now he was happily wrapped up in a towel, watching the sunset. There was such a great view from the pool. He’d spent a long while watching Tucker swim and thinking about Alice and Donnie. Family could be so complicated. Alice obviously had her issues, and nobody he’d ever met was more layered than Tucker. Sometimes he had to take a second to make sure he was hearing what Tucker was really trying to say.

  Like what Tucker had said earlier, about the demons seeming real. He hadn’t understood until today how much what that might mean had worried his lover. And he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the last he heard about it. That was just Tucker—equally bewildering and beautiful.

  Tucker was whistling, fingers moving over his skin, eyes on the sky. That panic was gone, melted away, and somewhere in that amazing brain, Tucker was making art.

  “It’s beautiful, that sunset. All the color and the way it can just wash over everything because nothing is in its way, you know? Nothing making shadows or reflecting the light.” New York sunsets were cool too; the bright sun would reflect off the glass in the windows of the tallest buildings, and it would be so dark in their shadows. It was blinding sometimes. Beautiful, just so different.

  “Have you seen the sunset up in Taos? Or on the beach? I love how different they all are depending on where you are. I love that it’s all the same too. The same sun.”

  “Right? So cool.” And just like that, the sun sank and everything went gray for a minute as night started to win. “What do you want to paint on me?”

  “I just want to play. Maybe mountains here.” Tucker stroked his abs. “Or birds here.” The touch to his inner thigh made him gasp. “A forest of flowers blooming and fireworks.”

  “Your hands.” He caught one up and kissed it, knuckles first, the center of the palm, the inside of Tucker’s wrist. “You want to? Right now?”

  “I do. You’ll like it.” The confident tone was almost as good as the smile.

  “I like it already.” He stood up and curled himself into Tucker’s side, loving how they just fit together all the time.

  “You will. Come to the loft.” Tucker was bouncing, the joy infectious.

  He let Tucker lead him by the hand, practically jogging alongside those longer, stronger legs. They were both a little giddy by the time they reached the barn. He was laughing as he headed for the ladder to the loft. “You need help with anything, tiger?”

  “No. No, get naked for me and comfortable in the loft. I’ll grab the brushes and the body paints, find the right music.” Tucker kissed him hard. “We can play.”

  “Get naked.” Calvin snorted. He was in the world’s tiniest bathing suit. Naked was one wiggle away.

  He climbed up into the loft, tossed his still-damp suit in a corner, and started fiddling with Tucker’s iPod and the cool tiny speakers. He passed over the Nine Inch Nails playlist and Christina Aguilera—God, not her again—and settled on Maroon 5 on shuffle before climbing into the sheets.

  Tucker came up with a little tackle box and a jar of water, eyes twinkling in the light. “Mmm. Look at you. Playing canvas for me.”

  “Uh-huh.” He stretched and rolled onto his stomach. “Any way you want me.” God, Tucker was irresistible when he had a little mischief in those bright blue eyes. And nothing was sexier than seeing his lover happy, inspired.

  “Uhn. Okay. I’ll start back here, because look at all that skin, but I want to finish up front.”

  “Start, finish, take a break, start again. I have all night,” he teased. Maybe he’d return the favor. Give Tucker a pretty pink-glittery backside.

  “Perfect.”

  The touch of the brush on the small of his back made him shiver. This might be as good as their first night up here—the night Tucker did that lovely blue series. God, that night. “Please tell me you brought a mirror so I can see?”

  “I’ll run down and grab one, yeah. You’re so fine.” Tucker dipped the brush into a bright dark blue. “Are you ready for the paint? Or should I get the mirror first?”

  “No, you go ahead. I can look when you’re done. Hang on.” He thought about asking what Tucker was painting, but he decided he’d wait and see. He shifted and made sure he’d be comfy for a while. “Okay, I’m good.”

  “Thank you for letting me play, honey. It means a lot.” The swipe was cold and wet and erotic as fuck.

  “You’re welcome. But you make it sound like I’m not getting anything out of this. Do you know what that feels like?” He couldn’t see, and he couldn’t even twist around to try, so he just dropped his head onto his forearms and closed his eyes. He’d just feel. Focus on the paint warming on his skin and the bristles of Tucker’s brush.

  “I do. I’ve painted myself before. I knew you’d like it. I have a lot of brushes.” The next swipe curled up and around his shoulder blade.

  “That one’s soft, feels like it’s just gliding.” As soon as Tucker picked the brush up off his skin, he broke out in goose bumps and shivered again. “Mmm.”

  “Mm-hmm. Oh, this is going to become my new favorite hobby.” A circle decorated the back of his neck, the brush almost rough.

  “Do you want to describe what you’re painting, or should it be a total surprise?” He could sort of see which colors Tucker was choosing, but a big swirl around his shoulder and a circle at his neck didn’t tell him much else.

  “I’m just decorating, exploring your lines. They’re fascinating.”

  “Thank you. It’s great that you have those weights so I can keep up the muscle.” He did it for work at first, but now he just liked how it felt. He liked feeling strong.

  Tucker stroked his shoulder blades, digging in with his thumbs, then reaching for more paint and repeating the gesture. He never doubted for a second that Tucker was paying attention to him, was watching him, was into him.

  Their capacity for conversation faded, and after a bit he felt himself drift a little, not in a sleepy way, but floating, like meditation. He was following Tucker’s touch, soft and hard, brushes both gentle and powerful, and let that little high just fill his mind. Tucker hummed deep in his chest, painting his ass, his inner thighs, and then a soft fanned brush stroked his balls.

  One leg bent up a little all on its own, baring more sensitive skin to Tucker. His breath was trapped in his chest for a second, and then he let it out with a soft moan that was completely uncensored and truthful. It felt good. He wanted Tucker to know.

  “So good.” This brush was tiny, almost sharp but not, and when Tucker used it, it made his toes curl.

  He inhaled, hissing through his teeth. “Yeah. I like that one.” He loved this space he was in. He felt warm, aroused, so completely into what Tucker was doing he wasn’t aware of anything else. Not even the music he’d chosen.

  “I do too. I can get in close. Details are important.”

  “Mmm. I’m a fan of the details, baby.” Tucker’s patience was impressive. Tiny brush, something like twenty square feet of bare skin… this could be a blissfully long, lovely night.

  “I am too.” Tucker started in on his legs, the long, careful lines making his eyes go wide.

  It became a challenge not to move when Tucker drew his brushes over the bac
k of his knees and around his ankles. “Ticklish. Don’t forget.” Most people outgrew the whole ticklish thing, didn’t they? Well, not him. Calvin gasped and tensed as Tucker zigzagged a brush across the back of his knee on purpose. “Tiger!”

  “Uh-huh. You make the paint smell like heaven. I want…. Can I touch you with the paint here? Please?” The words were so careful, but the fingers on his hole were confident.

  He lifted his head and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered on a breath. Literally a breath, he couldn’t quite get his voice under it. It felt like every nerve was firing at once.

  “Oh, thank you.” The paint was cool, silky, and utterly foreign, but so right.

  “Mmm.” He wanted to tell Tucker how good his hands felt, how much he was enjoying this peculiar kind of contact, but the thoughts spun around in his mind and refused to form themselves into anything resembling words.

  He imagined that Tucker understood, because the touches came, again and again and again, the bristles exploring him, sensitizing his nerves.

  He followed each brush with his mind as it stroked him, over muscle and across bone, until suddenly everything swirled tight and into sharp focus. He wanted to see. Needed to. “Tiger, get a mirror now? Please? I won’t move. I promise.”

  “You’ve got it, honey.” Tucker stood and headed for the ladder, cock hard and curved up against his flat belly. He watched as long as he could without twisting and messing with the paint on his skin. God, he couldn’t make his lover any hotter if he set Tucker on fire.

  He’d had lots of affairs, weekend flings, dated a few times back in New York. There was a reason he and Timmy set up that texting rule and that he got tested frequently. He liked variety, and he frequently had questionable judgment in men. The concept of commitment just didn’t seem to fit him. He was having fun.

  And then this Texan appeared out of the gray and snowy sky one afternoon—so foreign, adventurous, and complicated—and he’d never wanted another man since.

  Now he was here, with a man that gave him anything he asked for, that needed him, wanted him, and loved him, warts and all.

  “Okay, honey. I got the mirror. Where do you want it?”

  “Um. Come around over here.” He directed Tucker until the mirror was in just the right place for him to get a good look down the length of his back. “Right there. Just hold… oh, wow.”

  It took a minute to take it in, to understand that it was his body he was seeing. The light seemed to pour from him, the hints of clouds and shadows only there to frame the beams of fire and sun.

  “You’re…. Tiger, look at that. I’m radiant! You’re amazing. This is amazing.” It was a kind of beautiful he never dreamed he could be.

  “This is fun. Your skin loves the paint, and I love the sounds you make.”

  “It is fun. And it’s hot. I love it, and I really look beautiful. Come down here and kiss me.”

  “Anytime.” Tucker knelt down in this effortless fucking plank, then eased down to take his lips.

  He ran his fingers along that lovely scruff on his lover’s chin, but Tucker’s kiss burned right into him, and the low, steady little flame he’d been happily enjoying flared suddenly like kerosene on hot embers. He reached farther and grabbed the back of Tucker’s neck, tugging hard. Tucker surged forward, pushing a happy cry into his mouth. Felt good, knowing he wasn’t alone.

  He rolled onto his side, hoping he didn’t make too much of a mess of all of Tucker’s work, but he needed more contact. “Love you.”

  “Love.” Tucker grabbed him with paint-wet hands, fingers dragging over his skin in fits and starts.

  God. Tucker could paint him again, right? He rolled onto his back and encouraged Tucker to move over him. Those slippery fingers just made him ache more.

  Tucker laughed, the look on his face this pure joy. “You get it.”

  Then Tucker was sliding against him, teeth sharp on his bottom lip.

  “Uh-huh.” Calvin nodded. He got it, and he liked it. Tucker was completely electric, buzzing with passionate energy on a lot of levels. He moved his hands over Tucker’s shoulders and down that broad, strong back. “Need you.”

  “Ditto.” Tucker’s muscles worked under his hands, bunching and rolling as Tucker rocked them together. “You got me.”

  Jesus, that was sweet. He hooked his heels behind Tucker’s thighs and rocked his hips up, hungry and wanting more. Tucker’s cock slid against his, the slick drops easing the friction, and every fucking thrust just pushed them higher.

  He was making wild sounds, he knew. Little grunts and moans he didn’t bother to try to control. But what was building in him was more than just a delicious spiral toward orgasm. There was a joy that seemed to border on insanity filling his chest, pushing itself upward, and finally just had to escape. He caught Tucker’s brilliant blue eyes and started laughing again, long and loud, and everything around him turned colorful as he imagined sunshine on the ceiling and an ocean of blues and purples on the walls.

  “Yes.” Calvin wasn’t sure what Tucker was agreeing to, but that single word held all the happiness in the world, and it was focused on him, laser sharp and perfect.

  “It’s good, right? Oh God.” Calvin gasped and drew one knee up higher, taking advantage of whatever shift Tucker’s hips had just made. He loved this. That moment with his lover when they were torn between oh please let this last forever and fuck I want it so bad. “Tucker!”

  “Uhn.” The tilt made Tucker jerk, hips losing their rhythm, Tucker driving against him. He looped his arms around Tucker’s shoulders and hung on, unable to do much more than struggle for air, pinned under Tucker’s bulk. “Come on. Need to feel you.”

  Tucker arched, and Calvin swore he could feel the heavy cock against his get just that much harder.

  “Fuck, Tucker. I just… a little….” He closed his eyes against all the lovely colors that were distracting him, and instantly his focus shifted right where Tucker had in mind. For a second he was lost to the heat and the scent of them, and then his hips rolled, his back bowed, and he lit up from the inside, shuddering as he came.

  “Fuck yes!” Tucker’s seed sprayed against him, like all he’d been waiting for was Calvin, the happy, needy sounds wild where they fell.

  Calvin leaned up and kissed Tucker, hard but quick, and grinned at him. “Fuck, yeah.”

  “That was fun.” Tucker rubbed their noses together, chuckling softly. “God, you’re going to be my favorite media. Forever.”

  “Bring it on. I loved it. Love it. Love you.” He was covered in paint, front and back now. Even Tucker had streaks of purple and yellow on his chest. It reminded him of that night in New York and those beautiful, hideous, wonderful demons.

  Tucker grinned and rolled up, encouraging him to stand. Tucker peeled the sheet away, the paint leaving this amazing abstract vision that was pure sunrise.

  “Oh, look at that!” How cool was that? He held up part of the sheet so they could look at it. “You’re a clever little artist, and hot too. Did you know? I’m just saying.” He kissed Tucker’s shoulder and then nipped at it lightly.

  “Mmm.” The bite made Tucker shiver, lean in against him, proving that his artist was anything but little. “This one is mine.”

  “Yep. It is. All yours. You can hang it with Hope.” Like maybe this was what was peeking out behind all that gray.

  “Mmm. Hope will come with us, huh? These paintings, I think I’ll hang them where we make them. But Hope is for us to bring no matter what.”

  “Yeah. It’ll come with us.” To New York, back here, anywhere they ended up. “I like how you say it’s ours, now.”

  “I like how you let me believe in it.”

  “I believe in it too.” He slipped around behind Tucker and pressed his lips between Tucker’s shoulder blades. “Dinner, shower… tree house?”

  “Sounds like a perfect evening.” Tucker spread the sheet out on the floor, then took his hand and twined their fingers together. “I’m in.”

&nbs
p; Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “IT LOOKS amazing, son.”

  “Thanks, Marge.” Tucker leaned over and kissed her cheek. He’d been ramping himself up for two days about this show, but this morning Calvin had loved him until he couldn’t think, until he was sore in the best possible ways and looking forward to the promise of dancing, of losing themselves in the music and the lights. “Hopefully the angels are with us.”

  Light Pollution had been a vast hit, but his new angels? They were special. Important.

  They were a very specific truth.

  “It’ll be fine. Where’s Calvin?”

  “He was meeting with his agent, and then he said he’d be here. We’re going to Brazil. Brazil! I can’t wait. I want to see everything.”

  “I bet. Including all the lovely bronzed men on the—”

  A warm hand slid over his shoulder and encouraged him to turn. “Hello, lover.”

  Calvin was close, too close to get a good look head to toe, but the high-collared shirt had Victorian-style ruffles on the front and no sleeves. It was really Calvin’s eyes, though, that got his attention. Long, black false lashes, sparkling eyeliner, and dark magenta shadow.

  “Mmm.” He did love how his Calvin painted himself. He reached down and found the taut curve of Calvin’s leather-clad ass, squeezed. “You made it.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Calvin kissed him, lips tasting like peppermint. “Well, it was this or a movie, and, you know, there’s wine here.”

  “You wouldn’t have missed it.” He knew. Calvin loved the theater of this whole gig. It was the only reason to show. “The dancing comes next.”

  “Can’t wait. But first we have to make the rounds, right, Marge?”

  “Hello, honey.”

  “Hello, sweetheart.” Marge and Calvin exchanged a hug. “Mwah,” Calvin said, making a kissy face at her.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Marge said, winking at him before sweeping off to shake hands.

  “Michael says we’ll have escorts in Brazil, tiger. And drivers, and bodyguards, and all kinds of craziness. Apparently a person can get into trouble there. He told me I need to try not to stand out. Imagine that?” Calvin preened, laughed. “Oh. And vacation after. Three weeks! We can go home and swim.”