by Riley Hart
It was no time at all before he heard the door open again. And before he knew it, Van stepped back into the room, camera in hand, wearing nothing but jeans, a sexy smile, and messy hair. Shane begged to differ with Van. Out of the two of them, he was pretty sure Van was the beautiful one. Not that Shane didn’t know he was attractive, because he did. Van had just always been a little more…well, a little more of everything. It was what had attracted everyone to him as a kid, but he knew Van had been a little more of things like lonely and scared too.
“Where do you want me?” Shane finally asked.
Van’s grin grew, which made Shane smile in return. “Oh, that’s a dangerous question. My answer might be anywhere and everywhere. Oh, hey. Cute dimples.”
“Dimples?” Shane asked. Where in the fuck had that come from?
“You have them. I didn’t realize until just now. Makes you look a little innocent. Sorry, I blurt out random shit from time to time.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Shane replied and Van winked.
“Good because I really wasn’t.”
Shane got a strange, airy, feeling in his chest. “You’re crazy.”
“A crazy photographer who is fucking giddy over getting to play around with you.”
Yeah…Shane was pretty fucking giddy over it himself. “Where do you want me?” he asked again, because it was easier than returning Van’s sentiment.
Van put his camera to his face and snapped a picture.
“Hey, I wasn’t ready yet.”
“I beg to differ. You have my dick hard at just the thought of doing this. And that photo was perfect. How far are we going here, Shane?”
The truth was, he didn’t know. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Van would keep his photographs between the two of them, and he definitely wasn’t ashamed of his body, but that didn’t mean he’d ever considered having nude pictures of himself out there. “Not sure. I’ll let you know as we go along.”
Van nodded once. “Fair enough. And if you want me to, I’ll get rid of these photos the second we’re done. Whatever you want, okay?”
But he didn’t want that. He wasn’t sure what he wanted but that wasn’t it. “I’m fine.”
“Duh.”
Shane grinned and Van snapped another photo. Christ, he felt dumb. “I’m not a model.”
“You don’t have to be. I’m not asking you to be. I just…I just want you to be Shane.”
Be Shane. Okay. He could do that. “Maybe we should be at the shop for this, then? I could bend over, hands under the hood…” The joke did its job and untwisted some of the nerves tying him up.
“We can do that next time.” Van stepped closer and snapped another picture. “I wasn’t joking when I said anytime and everywhere. I don’t think you know just how incredible you are.”
Van walked forward and brushed his thumb over one of Shane’s nipples, which instantly hardened. A soft, unexpected moan snuck past Shane’s lips as a tremor shocked through him. His skin began to feel too tight…too hot…and damn it felt good.
“You’re hard,” Van nodded down and yeah, without looking, Shane knew the towel was tented.
Van leaned in and sucked the same nipple, getting it wet before pulling back and taking a photo of it.
His skin got tighter still…his body even hotter. His dick even harder. “It’s…thrilling. Like I’m high or something. Christ, we haven’t even done anything yet.”
“We will,” Van said before sucking Shane’s other nipple. He bit into Shane’s pectoral just enough to leave marks and nearly make Shane come.
“This how you get all the men to do what you want?” he teased, and Van stopped.
“No. I told you, I don’t usually do this. Not even playing around.”
But he was doing it for Shane…and Shane wanted him to.
When Shane smiled, Van took another picture. “Couldn’t help it. Those fucking dimples kill me. Will you lie on the bed?”
What Shane really wanted was to sink his dick into Van’s ass again. His whole body was on fire. His dick was aching. It was turning him on in ways he didn’t expect, having his photo taken. The thought that people might see it. Maybe he was a closet exhibitionist and never knew? “Yeah.” He walked over and asked, “Should I fix the blankets?”
“Don’t you fucking dare. You’re walking sex, Shane. We want the bed messy. Want everyone to know you just ravaged someone in it.”
He palmed his dick through the plush towel. “This is fucking killing me.” Who would have thought that would get to him so much?
“Good.” Van gave him a devilish grin before pushing his curls off his forehead. “Now lie down. Keep the towel on for now.”
Shane watched as Van plumped the pillows for him, arranging them just the way he wanted. When he was finished, he nodded toward the bed, and Shane lay down.
“Cross your legs. Put one of your hands behind your head and bend your arm. Your pits are sexy. I know a few men, myself included, who would love to nuzzle into them.”
“Feel free,” Shane replied.
“Oh, I will. But we’re working right now. We have to be good.”
Shane was tired of being good. He’d been good his whole fucking life.
He moved into the position Van told him to get into. He watched as Van snapped picture after picture, moving to get Shane from different angles.
“This is so fucking strange,” he said after a few moments. “I feel like a fraud.”
Van lowered the camera. “Why?”
“Don’t know,” he lied.
“Well don’t. You’re anything but. You’re just lying there for a lover, Shane. Nothing else.”
For a lover…damned if Shane didn’t like hearing Van call him that.
“Okay.”
“Put your arm down,” Van told him. “Hold your dick. Make me want what’s under your hand—not like I won’t already.”
Shane easily slid his hand over to his crotch, cupped his erection, and looked up at Van.
“You’re fucking perfect. Next time we do this I need to bring better lighting.”
Next time. They hadn’t spoken about a next time but Shane knew there would be. He wanted there to be.
Van moved around the room, taking shot after shot from angle after angle. On the one hand, Shane felt ridiculous. What the fuck was he doing posing like some goddamn model…but at the same time, his dick continued to swell and his body felt alive in ways he’d never experienced. Like he was flying. “Ask me to open the towel, Van.” His voice was scratchy, filled with lust.
Van looked at him over the camera. “Open the towel, Shane.” The same huskiness from Shane’s voice was mirrored in Van’s.
His fingers were shaky as he opened the towel. Click, click, click, the camera snapped as he did so. He laid it open, fully on display…and somehow it was different than just being naked with Van. He had zero problems with that. Zero problems stripping for anyone he planned to fuck, but knowing that moment would be documented by photographs made nerves tickle down his spine. Simultaneously his nerve ending sparked with excitement, with exhilaration over the very same thing that made him nervous.
“You good?” Van asked and Shane realized he had his hand lying gently over his dick. He couldn’t cover it all, the head stuck out over the top, but that wasn’t the point, was it?
“Yes,” he said as he went to move his hand.
“No.” Van stopped him. “Not yet.” He snapped a few pictures like that. Shane looked at him for some, and away for others.
Van instructed him to move his hand to his hip next, which he did. Click, click, click.
“Bend your right leg out. Yeah, just like that,” Van said. Click, click, click.
He stepped closer. “Jesus, look at how much you’re leaking. Let me see it, Shane. Hold your dick up just a little.”
Shane wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it up slightly. Van kneeled on the floor beside the bed. Pre-come dripped from the slit, down to his stomach. Click,
click, click.
“Don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on,” Van told him.
He kept taking pictures—Shane’s face, cock, balls. Of him stroking. Eyes closed, eyes open. With each snap of the camera, Shane felt more and more free. More and more alive.
“Jerk off for me. I want you to see how sexy you are when you come.”
Shane felt like a live wire, like his insides were thrashing around with too much energy and electricity to be contained.
He poured lube on his hand and wrapped it around his aching dick. His eyes never left Van as he started to stroke. His balls were already so damn tight, so damn full that it didn’t take long for the orgasm to slam into him. For the pleasure to wash over him. The whole time, click, click, click.
Shane shot his load across his chest. Come landed on his right nipple, in his navel, and when his hand pulled away, Van was there, taking pictures of the sticky mess all over him.
It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Needed more. Needed to give Van some of the pleasure Van had given him. “Your turn. Take your pants off and come here.”
“Want me to jerk off on you again?” Van asked as he set the camera down and removed his jeans. Shane knew he meant because of last night—Christ, had it only been last night? It felt like they’d had more time between them.
“No. I’m changing the fantasy a little. I can’t move, but I want to suck you, so you’re gonna come here and feed it to me.”
“If you insist.” Van winked at him before getting onto the bed. He straddled Shane’s chest, his dick already long, and hard, and leaking. Van held it from the root while Shane opened his mouth and leaned forward slightly, making it easier for Van to give him what they both wanted.
Shane could smell Van’s earthy scent, which got stronger the closer Van got. When he pushed his dick past Shane’s lips, they both moaned in response.
“Fuck yes,” Van said from above him. “I wondered what it would be like to have your mouth.”
Shane wrapped his arms around Van’s ass, squeezed his cheeks, but let Van lead the show. Let Van fuck his mouth—slow and passionate, like he was pacing himself instead of sprinting to finish the race. His hips thrust with measured movements as he angled himself to go down Shane’s throat easily.
“You’re fucking good at this. The gag reflex is nonexistent with this one.”
Shane struggled to hold back his chuckle as he worked Van’s prick, sucked the head, deep-throated him, licked his shaft. Any way he could drive Van crazy, he wanted to.
Shane smiled around his dick when Van’s balls hit his chin. A slow burn of excitement started low in his gut—a fantasy, a desire. He wanted images like this. Wanted to see himself suck Van’s dick—see the passion and raw hunger between the two of them. Wanted to witness the beauty in it from both the outside and by experiencing it.
“I wish you could see how sexy you look,” Van told him, making Shane look up at his eyes.
Van’s dick pulled out of his mouth with a pop. “I was just thinking that,” Shane said before tonguing Van’s sac. “That I want to see it. See us. I think I’ve found a new kink.”
It hadn’t ever been something he considered before—recording himself. Having photographs of himself. But he realized now how hard it got him…how different it made him feel.
“That can be arranged,” Van said as Shane licked his length. “I’m gonna blow soon. You want it in your mouth or on you?”
“In my mouth,” he replied before taking Van deep again—feeling all that steely velvet against his tongue.
Van’s movements got faster, harder, and it wasn’t long before he groaned and shot—two hot, thick spurts of come on Shane’s tongue. He swallowed them down, licking Van clean. Took Van’s weight as he slid down Shane’s body and lay on his chest.
“Jesus…it hasn’t been like that for me in a while.”
They were a match, sexually, because it had never felt like that for Shane either. Yeah, he fucking loved sex and got off, but there was an intenseness with Van, like there was a whole other level he hadn’t explored before. Maybe it was because of the photos, or their past. He didn’t know the reason but he knew it was there.
“Yeah, me either. Guess us small-town boys know what we’re doing.”
“Yeah, we do,” Van replied. Shane hadn’t been talking about Van. He might be from Last Chance, but he was so far removed from that town that it didn’t feel like it.
“Do you want me to delete the photos?” Van asked, before Shane felt a hot tongue against his collarbone.
“No.”
“Thank God. I’ll get them on my computer and we’ll go through them tomorrow night, if you want.”
“I don’t know if I want to see them,” he chuckled.
“You do. I’m fucking telling you, you do. Trust me. I’m a professional.” Van sat up, straddling Shane’s waist and winked at him.
“You’re a cocky motherfucker is what you are.”
“So? And can you blame me?” Van grabbed his dick and Shane laughed, rolling his eyes. Man, he enjoyed spending time with Van. Felt a closeness he’d never felt with anyone. Caleb being the closest but even that hadn’t been on the same level. “I should go.” Van fingered a lock of Shane’s hair. It felt…intimate in ways he wasn’t sure it should. “I want you to be able to get some sleep and I’m going to have to fight with my mother in the morning. Plus, I really want to play around with your photos.”
Shane nodded and Van climbed off him. While Van dressed, Shane pulled on a pair of trunks. They walked into the other room where Van grabbed his glass Shane had given him. “Thank you for this.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Not true. Art is always something. It’s too personal for it not to be.”
He liked that. He never let himself think about it in those terms before. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” Van paused and then added, “I like you, Shane.”
Shane’s pulse stumbled at that. He sure as shit hadn’t expected Van to say those words to him. “I like you too.” They sounded like they were in middle school, but Shane was okay with that. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—go anywhere. Their lives were too different and they lived too far apart and they didn’t know each other well enough for him to even think about that, but he liked Van.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Shane’s lips. Shane walked Van to the door and just like the night before, he was gone. The same way he’d be gone for good in a few short weeks.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Van hadn’t been able to sleep the rest of the night. He tossed and turned for a few hours before he just gave up.
He couldn’t stop thinking about his night with Shane—grilling, his art, the sex, and the photos. He glanced over at the entwined, colorful glass. Shane really was talented. Van believed there would be people out there who would love his craft. He was unique, as were each of his pieces. None of them had looked the exact same.
Was it truly something Shane did only for himself or did he just not think he had it in him for anything else?
He obviously didn’t have the answer to that, but he wanted it.
Van pushed out of the bed, grabbing his camera and laptop. Typically he used his desktop computer at home for that kind of thing, but he hadn’t wanted to bring that back to Last Chance with him.
He pulled the card from his camera, popped it into his computer and downloaded the pictures they’d taken—the ones for Annie he put on a flash drive before diving into Shane’s. The lighting was shit, which pissed him off. Shane deserved to be captured in the right lighting.
Still, they were incredible. There was an innocence…no, a vulnerability to them, that Van had never been able to capture before. There was a truth, an honesty to Shane’s photos, from the look in his eyes, which was filled with both the heaviness of his life, but also the happiness of his spirit. He didn’t let life beat him. He rolled with the punches and made the be
st of situations and cared for those he loved in ways Van was pretty sure were unique only to Shane.
Most people just weren’t that good.
He wasn’t.
“Fuck.” He shook his head, pushing his hair off his face. That was some pretty deep shit for so early in the morning. But the truth was, he hadn’t been lying when he said he liked Shane. He wanted to get to know him more. He wanted to get to know him in ways he never had with anyone else.
Oh yeah, too fucking deep for this early.
Van closed his laptop and stood up. After stretching, he made his way down the hallway to his father’s office.
The house was quiet, and had been every day since he’d been here. When he was a kid, it was never that way. His parents were always entertaining, or his mom was out, making sure everyone in town knew who the Sullivans were. They had to be involved in everything, because life was all about appearances and what everyone else thought about them.
His stomach automatically churned the second he stepped foot in the room that had been his father’s domain when Van had been a child. Well, the whole town had been, honestly, but this room was more him than anything else.
It was his favorite place to call Van into the room to smack him around.
It was where he liked to teach Van all about what it took to be a man, and all the ways he was too sensitive, too soft behind closed doors, to be one.
Jesus, he fucking hated him.
He looked in the corner of the room, to the boxes there waiting to be used, grabbed one and just started throwing shit inside—photographs, awards, plaques telling his father how special he was.
He riffled through papers and files and tossed those into boxes too.
His mother wouldn’t do it, but it needed to be done.
He wanted to purge every fucking thing that was his father. He’d burn the damn house to the ground if he could.
Van closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking about the letter he’d thrown into his suitcase. What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he get rid of the fucking thing?