The Artist’s Masquerade

by Antonia Aquilante

  He wanted more of that taste, wanted it all the time. Cathal shied away from that thought. He didn’t want to think about always, didn’t want reminders that he couldn’t have always with Flavian.

  Instead, he deepened the kiss and walked to the bed with Flavian still holding tightly to him. He lowered them both to the mattress and landed on top of Flavian, who still hadn’t stopped clinging with arms and legs. Cathal rather liked that.

  The bed was far smaller than Cathal’s, but the coverlet was smooth underneath them and the bed soft and large enough for them both even if they weren’t lying on top of each other, though that wasn’t something he was eager to change. It felt just as good as it had last night, lying on top of Flavian, feeling the warmth, the hard and soft of his body pressed against Cathal’s. So different from a woman’s body, and while Flavian probably thought that was a problem for Cathal, it was far from it.

  Flavian began wriggling beneath him, and Cathal groaned as Flavian’s movements sent pleasure skittering along his nerves. Then he gasped as Flavian tore away from the kiss.

  “Off,” Flavian gasped.

  Cathal froze, disappointment spreading ice through his veins. Had Flavian changed his mind? “What—”

  “Clothes, off. Now. Take them off.”

  He let out something that was half sigh, half laugh, and all relief. He would have gotten up and left if Flavian told him to, but he really didn’t want Flavian to want him to go. Flavian grinned, the smile making his face more open, but his eyes were dark, passion-drenched. Cathal hurried to obey him, pulling at his own clothes and Flavian’s. Flavian’s hands tangled with his as the both tugged at fastenings and fabric. Cathal thought he might have heard something rip. They could have gotten their clothes off far more quickly and easily if they had only untangled themselves from each other, but he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to move off the bed, away from Flavian, even for an instant, and from Flavian’s actions, Cathal thought he might feel the same.

  They stripped themselves and each other, tossing clothes in every direction, but Cathal didn’t spare that a thought. He only cared about feeling Flavian’s bare skin again. Once all the clothes were gone, they ended up on their sides facing each other, arms and legs still tangled. They looked at each other for a breathless, still moment. Flavian’s eyes were wide, his plump lips swollen, and Cathal couldn’t resist diving in for another deep kiss.

  Flavian arched into him, and Cathal gathered him closer, letting his hands wander over all that soft, smooth skin. Flavian was so soft, but with sleek muscles underneath. Cathal liked the contrast, liked the feel of Flavian. With some reluctance, he pulled his mouth from Flavian’s, smiling at Flavian’s quiet whimper, and began kissing over Flavian’s cheek, his jaw, down to that spot on his neck Cathal had found made Flavian shiver and writhe. He wanted to kiss all of Flavian, to taste him and see if he was as sweet all over.

  Cathal didn’t know much more about being with a man than he had last night, but he had gained more in confidence after seeing Flavian’s pleasure. So it didn’t take much thought for him to put his desire into action. He began following his hands, kissing all the places he’d caressed—Flavian’s neck and shoulders and chest, his arms, his fingers, his legs.

  And yes, Flavian did taste sweet all over.

  Flavian huffed a bit when Cathal moved back up his body to kiss his lips again without touching a certain portion of his anatomy. Cathal grinned, then laughed outright at the frown that came over Flavian’s face. Cathal would get there, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet, not when there was so much more.

  Cathal kissed Flavian until the frown melted away and Flavian was moaning and clutching at him again. Then he risked Flavian’s wrath by pulling away. He turned Flavian over, flipping him onto his stomach quickly enough that Flavian gasped, so Cathal could see the long line of Flavian’s back.

  Flavian lifted himself on his elbows and looked at Cathal over his shoulder, but Cathal just admired the graceful arch of Flavian’s back down to the curve of his nicely rounded backside.

  “Cathal?” Flavian’s voice drew Cathal’s gaze up to his face. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking at you, touching you. Let me?” He stared into Flavian’s eyes, enjoying how hazy and unfocused they were, and waited. Finally, Flavian nodded. “Thank you.”

  He leaned forward and brushed his lips over Flavian’s lightly before dragging them to his ear and down his neck, over all the golden skin of his back, nibbling and feasting everywhere he went. He touched too, smoothing his hands over the silky skin on the planes of Flavian’s back as Flavian flopped down onto the pillows. Cathal took that as encouragement to keep doing what he was doing. He kissed and caressed and let his hands drift over the expanse of smooth skin and down to Flavian’s backside. He bent and kissed one cheek, then sank his teeth into it lightly.

  Flavian made a sound something like a squeak and jumped. “Cathal! Get up here.”

  He twisted around and grabbed Cathal, dragging him up until Flavian could kiss him and press their bodies back together, chest-to-chest. Cathal moaned as Flavian buried his hands in Cathal’s hair, holding him firmly, and deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Flavian’s waist, sinking into the kiss. Even letting go and letting Flavian lead, Cathal was still surprised to find himself on his back with Flavian sprawled on top of him. But Flavian’s warm weight pressing him into the mattress felt so good.

  Flavian lifted his head and smiled down at Cathal. It was a smile he had never seen on Flavian, slow and sensual and full of intent, and it sent a shiver through Cathal. Flavian had to have seen because the smile widened. Cathal liked it, liked that Flavian seemed to have let his reservations go.

  “My turn.” With those two words, Flavian set himself to doing to Cathal what Cathal had just done to him. His hands were everywhere, moving over Cathal’s skin, tangling through the hair on his chest. Flavian played with that hair for a while, seemingly fascinated with it, but perhaps he was, since Flavian had little hair on his body at all. Flavian didn’t linger overlong, continuing to move over Cathal’s body, lips following hands, and Cathal realized just what he had put Flavian through.

  Waves of heat and pleasure moved over his skin. It was too much, the feel of those graceful artist’s hands, those plump lips, and yet not enough at all. He never wanted it to stop, never wanted Flavian to stop touching him, but he wanted more too. Craved it as he lay there beneath Flavian, the taste of Flavian still vivid on his tongue. He felt a bit like he was drowning, if drowning was warm and sweet and not at all frightening.

  Then Flavian ran his lips over Cathal’s hard length, and Cathal gasped at the sensation. Flavian smiled up at him and bent, taking him in his mouth. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever had it done to him, so it wasn’t new, but it was new with Flavian, and as Flavian used lips and tongue and hands to bring Cathal pleasure, it was so very good. He looked down and brought his hand up to run through Flavian’s hair, threading the soft waves around his fingers. Flavian looked up at him, Cathal’s passion and desperation reflected in his large eyes, and moaned around him.

  Cathal gasped Flavian’s name as pleasure rose up suddenly and swamped him. Flavian drank him down as his hands gentled, smoothing over Cathal’s flanks. Cathal took hold of Flavian’s arms and tugged him gently, urging him up to lie over Cathal once more. He wrapped his arms around Flavian as he caught his breath, but he couldn’t keep from moving his hands over Flavian, the lure of smooth skin too much to resist.

  But Flavian was still hard against his hip, and Cathal wanted to see if he could do what Flavian had done, if he could bring Flavian pleasure that way. He wanted to know what Flavian would feel like in his mouth, what he would taste like. He turned them, putting Flavian under him again, and moved down Flavian’s body. Flavian gasped and stuttered out something as Cathal’s lips closed around him, but it didn’t sound like a protest, so Cathal carried on. He had no idea what he was doing—he could admit that readil
y, at least to himself—but he knew what he liked. So he tried to replicate what had felt good to him, and he paid attention to Flavian’s reactions.

  Cathal must have been doing something right, because Flavian’s breath came faster and faster. He moaned, his hands gripping and releasing the blankets beneath them. The sight of Flavian’s pleasure was intoxicating, as was the feel of him, the scent of him, the taste…. Cathal never wanted to stop.

  He doubted he was as good at it as Flavian was, but Flavian found his pleasure at Cathal’s hands and mouth, and Cathal was rather proud of that. He crawled back up the bed and settled close at Flavian’s side, his arm over Flavian’s chest, his head on the pillow next to Flavian’s. They lay there for a long while in silence, letting their breathing slow and their heart rates calm. Flavian moved closer, almost snuggling into Cathal, and Cathal smiled, a warm glow suffusing him that Flavian was staying, was coming closer even, with no argument at all.

  Flavian’s eyes were closed, giving Cathal an opportunity to study him uninterrupted. Though, if he had his way, he’d be back in bed with Flavian soon and often—if he could, he wouldn’t leave the bed. He was glad to have had the chance to see Flavian as he really was. Flavian seemed far less guarded than usual. Cathal thought maybe he was getting a glimpse of the inner Flavian. He liked the thought, but perhaps he was just being fanciful.

  Fanciful or not, Flavian did look relaxed, peaceful even, which pleased Cathal. Continuing this deception of his for so long was taking a toll on Flavian. As it would any time someone was made to be something he wasn’t. Cathal wanted him to be able to end it, to leave it behind, but conversely, he didn’t want that, because then he probably wouldn’t ever see Flavian again.

  He forced himself to not touch Flavian, not to disturb him, even though Cathal’s fingers itched to reach out and brush against Flavian’s cheek. Flavian looked as if he might have fallen asleep, but even if he hadn’t, Cathal didn’t want to startle him out of whatever peaceful rest he was getting. And spoil his own ability to look his fill.

  He’d wondered before how often Flavian had to shave to keep up his disguise, but looking at him, Cathal wondered if Flavian could grow a beard if he wanted one. Without the cosmetics, Flavian wouldn’t be mistaken for a woman, but nor would he be called handsome in a traditional way; his features were not feminine but too soft for classic handsomeness. His body was all male, if not as tall or broad as Cathal’s. Sleek muscles were evident under the smooth skin on his chest and limbs. Dressed in his own clothing, fitted to his frame and in colors that made the most of his own coloring, Flavian probably made for a dashing figure. Cathal would like to see him that way.

  He would have to leave soon to return to his afternoon duties—a meeting with Philip, stacks of documents to review—but not just yet. He could spare a little while longer to lie next to Flavian in the warm bed and savor.

  “What are we doing?” Flavian’s quiet voice broke the long moments of silence. Not asleep then.

  Cathal kept watching Flavian for another moment, as he thought about what answer he could give. Finally, he settled on the truth. “I don’t know.”

  Flavian finally opened his eyes and turned his head so he could look at Cathal, his large eyes intent. He didn’t say anything.

  “But I like being here with you. I like being with you,” Cathal repeated into the silence, his gaze not leaving Flavian’s. He wanted Flavian to know that, to understand how very much Cathal did enjoy being with him, in and out of bed. How much Cathal had grown to like Flavian.

  Flavian was quiet for another long moment, still watching Cathal, hardly even blinking. Finally, he nodded and settled even closer to Cathal. He closed his eyes again. Flavian said nothing, but Cathal chose to take that nod as not just acceptance of his answer, but perhaps indication that Flavian might feel something similar.

  Wishful thinking to read so much into a nod, especially since it was Flavian nodding. They might have gone to bed together twice, and Flavian might seem content after, but that didn’t mean Flavian really enjoyed Cathal’s company, or enjoyed it more than he would any casual bed partner.

  He’d rather be optimistic about the meaning of the nod.

  Cathal would enjoy what he could. Lying close together was good, especially when Flavian began drawing patterns on Cathal’s hip with his fingers. At first, he tried to figure out what Flavian was drawing, because he couldn’t believe an artist would draw random lines. But soon the light, slow touches became too distracting. All of Cathal’s awareness narrowed to that place where Flavian’s fingers danced over his skin. Heat spread in waves from that single point of contact, and Cathal’s mind began to fill with images of all the things he wanted to do with Flavian. Surely his obligations could wait just a little longer. He ran a hand over Flavian’s chest, delighting again in the feel of it under his fingers.

  But Flavian spoke before Cathal could suggest anything pleasant they could engage in. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hmm?” He began drawing his own little patterns on Flavian’s chest.

  “What are you doing here? I assume you had a reason for coming here today. You didn’t risk being seen coming in here just to see me.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you didn’t.” Flavian propped himself up on an elbow to glare down at him. “You must have had a purpose.”

  “I did.” He smiled. “It was to see you. I had something for you.”

  Flavian gave him a look that was less than amused.

  “Not that, though it was a delightful surprise. I actually brought something for you.” Cathal lifted his head from the pillow and looked around. “It’s over there.”

  Flavian glared as Cathal rested his head back on the pillow, but curiosity finally got the better of him; Cathal could actually see it happen in Flavian’s eyes. Flavian climbed from the bed and crossed the room to the package Cathal had dropped. Cathal liked how Flavian’s slender body moved, the golden skin glowing in the sunlight streaming in the window. Beautiful.

  Flavian’s eyes narrowed when he turned and caught Cathal staring, but Cathal just smiled. Flavian seemed to debate something silently, then came and sat on the bed at Cathal’s side with the paper-wrapped package in his hands.

  Flavian looked from the package and back to Cathal several times. He seemed at a loss. Cathal brushed his fingers gently over Flavian’s cheek. “What is it?”

  “You brought me something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Flavian asked, his eyes bewildered.

  “I thought you would like it.” He smiled, trying for more confidence than he felt.

  He hoped Flavian would like Cathal’s little gift. He would feel rather ridiculous if Flavian didn’t or if he wondered why Cathal had brought him the item in the first place. Cathal was beginning to feel ridiculous already, and Flavian hadn’t even peeled back the paper yet. With Flavian sitting next to him looking utterly puzzled, Cathal couldn’t imagine why he had thought it a good idea to bring Flavian a gift.

  That was a lie. He knew why. He wanted to see Flavian smile, wanted to give him some pleasure, and not just the kind Cathal had discovered they could find in bed together. But he would never tell Flavian that, not when Flavian was still looking between the gift and Cathal as if he had no idea what was going on. Perhaps he didn’t. Hadn’t a lover, if Cathal could call them lovers after twice in bed, ever given Flavian a gift? Suddenly he wanted to shower Flavian with gifts. Big things, little things, expensive or not—anything to make him smile. A frightening thought. He pushed it away as quickly as it had arrived.

  He stayed reclined against the pillows, refusing to let Flavian see how nervous he was. “Are you going to open it?”

  Flavian’s gaze snapped up to focus on Cathal again, his eyes blinking, but he didn’t say anything.

  “It really isn’t much. Just something I thought you might enjoy. If not, it’s fine. I’ll take it back.” Cathal hoped Flavian couldn’t tell he
was lying outright. He had a horrible feeling that it would hurt if Flavian didn’t like his little offering.

  “Oh, um, yes. I’ll open it.” Flavian absorbed himself in slowly, carefully, untying the string and folding back the paper. Cathal didn’t know if Flavian was always so careful unwrapping gifts or if he was just unsure about the one in his hands, but Cathal had a feeling it was the latter.

  When he finally had it open, Flavian sat and stared for a long time—it felt like a long time to Cathal, but it was probably only moments. He realized he was holding his breath waiting for Flavian’s reaction. Ridiculous. What did it matter if Flavian didn’t like what Cathal had brought him? But it did matter. Cathal forced himself to take a breath.

  “Flavian?”

  Flavian looked up again, his confusion almost endearing, as it was joined by some measure of pleasure. “You’re giving me… pastels?”

  He glanced at the assortment of little colored crayons in the box in Flavian’s lap. He’d had to ask Amory what to look for and where to purchase them, and then to ignore Amory’s rather knowing look, but Cathal hadn’t known where else to turn for the information. All he knew was that Flavian should be able to draw in color.

  “You seemed sad not to be able to paint, to be able to capture what you saw, to create in color. I wanted to get you what you needed to paint, but there’s so much, and I didn’t know exactly what you would want to use. So I thought these would at least let you draw with color. Until we can get you painting again.”

  Flavian stared at him for so long without speaking that Cathal began to think he had done something wrong, something worse than Flavian not caring for the gift, but he wasn’t sure what insult he could have conveyed. Flavian swallowed audibly, and a smile flitted across his face, one that was almost shyly pleased. “Thank you.”