by Tara Lain
He called to Hunter, “Make yourself at home. I need a shower to get rid of the hospital.” He kicked off his shoes in the entry and padded down the hall toward the bedroom. Some of his smaller paintings, plus a few by friends, lined the walls. He rounded the corner into the master.
OMG. His breath caught. Propped on the slate shelf above his bed was the portrait of Hunter. Even from a few feet away, he caught a slight whiff of smoke, but the glowing face with the luminous eyes was perfect. The inferno Rod vaguely remembered hadn’t touched the painting. The inferno he’d dived into to save an image of Hunter. But the real Hunter, the flesh-and-blood man, risked himself to save Rod from his own foolishness.
His hands began to shake. Heat. Flames searing his face. The crack of wood as it fell beside him. The painting clutched to his chest gave a tiny bit of protection, but the smoke, oh God, every breath hurt.
He started coughing and his knees gave way, just as they had in the studio. Couldn’t take another breath, walk another step. Hunter. Oh God, I’m sorry.
“Gotcha!”
Whoa. Strong arms. He was lifted and laid gently on his bed. Oddly, he didn’t mind being so small that Hunter could lift him like a doll. The man saved him. Saved his life. He sat up and wrapped his arms around Hunter’s neck, but he couldn’t stop the shaking. “Thank you. Thank you so much for saving my life. I want to be alive. I don’t know why I did it. It just seemed like that picture was all I’d ever have of you. I couldn’t let it go.”
“Shhh. Take some deep breaths. You’re going to have some trouble with flashbacks for a while.” Hunter rocked him, his hard chest pressing against Rod’s. Felt so good. So safe. The shivers quieted.
Still holding Rod, Hunter pulled back so they were looking at each other. “I’ll always save you if you’ll let me. Just like you saved me from living someone else’s life. And I hope that painting is just the smallest part of me that you have from now on. I didn’t have time to have it cleaned for you. But maybe you want to do it yourself?”
Rod nodded.
“Want that shower now?”
Another nod was all he could manage.
“Can I join you?”
That woke him up. He grinned. “Hell yeah.” Whoa. Up in the air again. “Darling, I can walk.”
Dimples. “Humor me.”
Hunter carried Rod so gently that, again, he felt like glass. In the bathroom Hunter slid Rod carefully to the floor. He felt every delicious muscle and one big hot lump on the way down. Yum. Hunter pulled Rod’s T-shirt over his head, dropped it onto the tiled floor… then just stared.
Rod squirmed. “Uh, feeling a little self-conscious here.”
Hunter, pale eyes glistening, focused on Rod’s chest. “You’re so beautiful. Like a statue.”
“You’re joking.”
Hunter tilted his head and frowned. “Why would I joke about that?”
“I’m a sawed-off little runt.”
“Mother Nature does her best work when she doesn’t have to spread it out too far. Every muscle is perfect, like bas-relief. You make me wish I was an artist. But I’d rather pay tribute in my own way.” He leaned down and swiped his hot tongue over Rod’s nipple.
“Shit!”
“Hmm, you want me to stop?” He licked again, like a kid with his favorite candy.
Rod whimpered. “Hell, no.”
“Then admit I know beauty when I see it. Tell me that, Rod.”
“You’re crazy.” Another lick sent hot sparks straight to his cock. “Yeah, okay, you’re a master of aesthetics. Don’t stop.”
“No chance, beautiful.” Hunter worked that hot tongue slowly, exquisitely down his chest to his rib cage and lower, to his belly button. Oh God, yes please. The button of his fly slipped loose, and Hunter tugged at his zipper. Jesus, his cock was so hard that poor zipper didn’t have a chance. He sucked in his belly. Hunter kept tugging.
He giggled. “Here, let me help.” He shoved his hand into his pants and pushed his cock tight against his belly. No underwear. Hunter had forgotten to bring him any. Or maybe he’d remembered just fine. Anyway, commando was damned convenient right now. Oh yeah.
The zipper slid down like melting butter. Teeth bit his hand. Shoot. He let go, and his cock flipped straight out into a hot, questing hole in the universe. Holy shit! Hunter sucked him straight down his throat. OMG! “Oh, darling. God, that’s so great.”
Hunter slid his silky tongue up and down his dick while his throat convulsed, swallowing. Every one of Rod’s nerves lit like New Year’s Eve. He could barely remember the last time a guy had sucked his cock. His own reputation for giving good head usually meant he was the guy on his knees. This was beyond divine. His hips thrust on their own. Deep, deeper. Hot and wet and so damned sexy. He could so come this way, but…. “Wait, darling.”
Hunter kept sucking.
He grabbed a handful of dark hair and yanked. “I said wait.”
The pale blue eyes gazed up at him, liquid, drowning in passion. Hunter’s beautiful lips were still wet and swollen from sucking. Jesus, Rod wanted to paint Hunter just like this. Had to remember. Too beautiful.
“I don’t want to come that way, though I could about a hundred times.”
“I love sucking you. You’re not called Rod for nothing.”
Rod laughed and threaded his fingers through silky hair. “Since you’re being such a dominant boy today, are you figuring you want to fuck me?”
Hunter glanced down, then back up. “I will if you want me to.”
“What do you want, darling?”
“I want your cock so deep in my ass I can feel it in my throat.”
“You got it. I’m going to get in that shower for a minute while you go into the bedroom and unwrap my homecoming gift. Then I’ll fuck you into next week.” He knelt in front of Hunter, unzipped his fly, and reached in for the very lovely package inside. He licked around the red, dripping head. “You keep this warm and stiff for me, okay?”
Hunter seemed to be having trouble standing up. “Yes.”
Rod gave one more lick, then stood to swat Hunter on his still-covered buttocks. The big cock bobbed in response. “Go on. Get ready for me.”
Hunter scurried into the bedroom. Oh, the boy did like to be topped. Good. Because he might be little, but Rod had been a top from day one. He turned on the shower, set it to steaming, and climbed in. He wanted to make his skin feel as new as he felt inside.
Hunter Fallon waited in his bedroom. For him. The man had said…. Hell, Rod could hardly believe what Hunter had said. So wonderful.
Rod leaned against the wall and let the water pour over his back. His cock still hugged his abdomen, so this shower was gonna be record short. He had places to go and asses to fuck.
Deep breath. Hunter was in his bed. He chose to be there.
Out, fluffy towel, dry, another deep breath. Rod walked into the bedroom. His little brain down there wasn’t giving up. Still hard as a pole. It was too excited. Holy shit. It ought to be.
Hunter lay spread-eagled on the bed stark naked, his arms and neck a darker tan than the rest of his golden body. His big cock stuck straight up like a flagpole that Rod would gladly salute. Hunter stroked one hand up its length, moaning.
Look out, world. Rod dove on the bed, swatted Hunter’s hand aside, and swallowed as much of that big thing as he could force down his throat. No gagging. Show what you’re made of, darling. Oh God, delicious. Salty, sweet, musky, and hot. What an hors d’oeuvre.
“Rod. Rod.”
He raised his head.
Hunter caressed his face. “Please, there’s something I need.”
Jeez, was he losing his touch? No one ever complained about a Rodney Mansfield blowjob. “What?”
“Come up here. Please.”
WTF? Rod crawled up the long body until he looked into that gorgeous face. Not a bad angle, he had to admit. “What do you need, darling?”
“I need to kiss you.”
“What?”
; “You always fuck me from behind. I haven’t kissed you since that first time. Will you kiss me, Rod?”
Crack. A big piece of his shell shattered. Gooey insides oozed out. “There is nothing on this earth I want to do more.” He lowered his head, watching those carved lips part for him and open over a cavern into which he would happily plunge. Yes, falling to his death. The death of his cynicism and self-deprecation.
Hunter Fallon thought Rodney Mansfield was worthy. Who was he to disagree?
Their lips touched. Soft, warm. He gently pressed his tongue into that lovely mouth. Hunter moaned. Music. Deeper. His taste had to be a drug because it lit up Rod’s nervous system like electric wires. He relaxed onto the hard, silky heat of Hunter’s body and grabbed his head, fitting their mouths together like the last perfect pieces of a jigsaw. Oh shit. Hot, hot. Sucking hard on that sweet tongue, he rubbed his throbbing cock against Hunter’s belly.
Gasps and pants. His? Hunter’s? Both. Rod explored Hunter’s mouth voraciously. His body flamed. More. He gently eased his mouth away and smiled down into the half-closed eyes. “Need to fuck you now.”
“Oh yes.”
Rod slid off Hunter’s body to open the bedside table and take out the lube and condoms. Hunter started to turn over onto his knees.
“Wait.”
Hunter looked over his shoulder.
“Stay on your back, darling. I want to see your face while I fuck you.”
That smile would light a city. “Thank you.”
“Why?”
“I’ve never fucked like that. I want to… with you.” He rolled onto his back and pulled those long, hard muscled legs up until they touched his shoulders and left his beautiful hole gaping. Ready.
Rod squirted some lube onto two fingers. He circled the rim, then pushed the fingers inside.
“Oh yeah.”
“Hunter, look at me.”
The blue eyes half opened.
“Feel this?” Rod pushed harder.
“Hell yes. More please.”
“This is mine. You understand? No one else gets in here. Clear?”
He was half joking, but Hunter nodded serenely. “Yes, Rod. It is yours. Always has been. I know that’s why I always topped. Because who I truly am belongs to you.”
OMG. Heat pressed behind Rod’s eyes as it shot through his cock. He rolled on a condom, positioned himself, and entered the one place he was always meant to be. Hunter’s pale blue eyes glittered as Rod rode high, using his weight to press his penis deep into the man he loved. He might be on top but he was trapped. Never wanted to be free. Ever.
Had to fuck. He gazed into that beautiful face. Hunter’s blue eyes glazed. In. Out. Tears formed in the corners and dripped down those carved cheeks. In. Out.
“I love you, Rod.” In. Out. In. Out.
“I love you too. So much.”
In a blinding flash of orgasm, one thing became clear to Rod: Life was perfect. And so was he.
Chapter Eleven
“RODNEY, I will have the nude. No matter what any other bidder comes up with, I intend to have it. It’s a done deal. You understand?”
Rod gave the handsome, white-haired woman a very big smile indeed. “Thank you, Mrs. Esterhays. That’s a huge vote of confidence.”
“Nonsense. You don’t need confidence. You’re a genius. I’ve told David that many times.” She glanced across the long, narrow gallery, now jammed with art fiends. Barely visible through the crowds, Rod could make out David’s light brown hair. Of course, the white-blond Edge and Gareth’s dark curls were unmistakable. That came from being over six feet four. The three hung out near the door, greeting people as they arrived. Almost one hundred promising patrons and friends already crowded the small space. Hope the fire marshal isn’t here.
Mrs. Esterhays glanced at David. “He is quite distracted at the moment.” Her expression was unreadable.
“He’s quite in love, so I think it’s understandable.”
“Yes. Imagine two lovers.” She sighed. “I was a serial monogamist. Perhaps that was my problem. If I could have found the right two, I might have avoided four of my marriages.”
Rod spat a little champagne as he laughed. “You’re incorrigible!”
This time her sigh was quite grand. “Now I must amuse myself with gorgeous men on canvas. I will have the nude. Now, let’s talk about the portrait.”
“It’s not for sale, you wicked woman. I’ve told you that. But let me introduce you to some more gorgeous men in real life. One of them is a model of mine.”
“Oh goody!”
He wrapped the small woman’s hand around his arm and forged some space over to Bill, who was collecting glasses of champagne from the bar. “Hey, you guys. You finally made it.”
Jerry gave Rod a high five. “Hi, my man. Bill’s been helping me, uh, study.” Funny to realize that when Bill had almost fallen off his chair at dinner that night on their forced double date, it had been over Jerry, not Hunter. The teacher and the surfer. Quite a combo.
“Jerry, this is Mrs. Esterhays. A friend and lover of the arts.”
“Call me Carlotta, both of you, and what I love are Roman’s gorgeous men.”
An arm popped into the middle of the group holding a champagne glass. Bill leaned over precariously without losing his place at the bar. “Grab it quick. More coming.” He passed three more glasses before he emerged from the press of humans. “Whew. That’s what an open bar gets you.” He handed a glass to Mrs. Esterhays. “Hi, I’m Bill Abraham.”
“Carlotta Esterhays. Delighted to meet any friends of this talented boy.” She gave Rod’s arm a squeeze. “Now I need to enlist your help. I am going to purchase the magnificent nude, which is obviously Roman’s masterpiece in a field of his masterpieces.”
Jerry pumped the air. “Rad! He can build a new studio.”
She looked at Rod. “Yes, dear, I was very sorry to hear about the fire. I hope too much of your beautiful work was not destroyed.”
Jerry laughed. “Nah. People were too busy buying it.”
“I’m glad to hear that and to be able to finance a new studio exactly to your specifications.”
Rod grinned. “There is still the matter of an auction, of course.”
“Technicality.” She leaned forward toward Jerry. “The only painting finer than the nude, of course, is the portrait. I’m hoping you will help me persuade Roman to sell it to me. To comfort an old lady in her waning years.” This last was said with grand drama, the lovable witch.
Jerry, bless him, rushed in. “Not likely, ma’am. Hell, he risked his life for it.”
“What?”
Rod barely heard her. His heart was too busy stopping.
He was here. Entering the gallery, pushing his father’s wheelchair, his mom beside him. His sister was already heading for the bar.
Rod’s face felt too small for his grin. “Excuse me, please.” He maneuvered through the crowd until pale blue eyes and deep dark hair filled his vision like a painting in his mind. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Okay. Come out of your trance. “Did you get everything moved?”
Matt Fallon patted his arm. “We sure did. That’s a great place you have, Rod. I think Hunter’s going to be happy there.”
Hunter smiled so the dimples shone. “I think Hunter’s going to be happy there too.”
Rod grinned. He knew he looked like a besotted imbecile. That was fine. “Want to meet the lady who is likely going to own your naked body, so to speak?” He nodded toward Carlotta. “I know she’d love to meet you all.”
Mrs. Fallon pointed toward her daughter’s progress through the line at the bar. “I’m going to get some champagne first. Want some, dear?” She looked at her husband.
“I’ll come with you and be the battering ram. We’ll catch up to you guys in a second.” He wheeled off and, sure enough, people began to part. Good strategy.
Rod looked up at Hunter. “Is this okay for you? You didn’t have to come and be a s
pectacle. I would have met you all later for dinner.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. To see all this.” He pointed to the art on the walls. “You’re so talented, darling.”
“There are people here from the fire department.”
Hunter grinned. “Yeah. I invited them. Just a few friends.”
“Thank you.”
Hunter cocked his head. “Why thank me for that?”
“You being here, inviting people. Even bringing your father. They’ll all know. About us, I mean.”
“Hey, I’ve seriously considered getting on top of the hose-drying towers with a bullhorn and announcing that I love you.”
Rod’s heart no longer fit in his Rolling Stones T-Shirt. “You’re crazy.”
“For you.”
“Hey, Rod.” David was waving amid Carlotta’s group, which she’d maneuvered to the portrait.
Rod took Hunter’s hand. “Come on, darling. She has terrible designs on your gorgeous face.”
Hunter laughed as they walked over.
Carlotta gestured. “David, you’re not being reasonable. Imagine all the art supplies or whatever he could buy with my money. Oh good, you’re here.” She grabbed Rod’s arm.
“Carlotta, this is Hunter.”
She gazed upon that perfect body. The jeans fit like skin while the white shirt and polished cotton sport coat looked positively professorial.
“Dear God, no wonder you were inspired.” She thrust out a hand. “I’m Carlotta, darling, and you, even in this rarified company, are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Hunter blushed. Yeah, but the grin that went with it made it all okay. “Thank you so much.”
“As soon as I own the nude, I would like to give a reception for Rodney and you, his muse.”
“I’d be honored.”
Rod looked at his beautiful lover. Well, son of a bitch.
“Now, young man, I can ask you my question. Can you give me one good reason why I can’t purchase this gorgeous portrait of you, this magnificent work of art for the exorbitant price I am willing to pay for it?”