by Sean Michael
“My fucking boy.”
Knight nodded. Yes. Bishop’s.
“That’s right.” Bishop spread his legs, fingers pressing against his hole.
It was pure willpower that kept him from bearing down, to wait for Bish’s will.
“Good boy.”
His reward was Bishop’s fingers, two of them breaching his hole. The stretch was sweet, easy, and as familiar as breathing. Those fingers slid in deep, pinging off his gland. It was easy, to breathe, to let Bish in, to give himself. He didn’t have a choice.
Bish was wild, opening him up quickly, bumping against his gland and stretching him wide, one then the other. The pressure was huge and getting bigger, more intense. He cried out when Bishop pulled his fingers away, the sound muffled by the gag.
Seconds later, the thick, hot head of Bishop’s cock pressed against his hole.
Oh, yes. Fuck me. Hard. Deep.
Like Bishop had heard him, the thick cock began sinking into him, slow inch by slow inch. The world dissolved into light, bright white and fine. His Mouse. It felt like a glorious forever until Bishop was completely seated inside him. That’s when the movement started, Bishop thrusting into him. His entire body curled, trying to see that thick shaft pushing in and sliding out.
Bishop’s mouth covered his through the gag again, thrusts getting stronger, harder. God, he wanted to touch, to hold on. To cling. All he could do though was lie there and let Bishop have his wicked way. His lover could do absolutely anything he wanted.
“Love you.” Bish groaned into his lips.
Then Bishop’s thrust became urgent, his lover pounding into him, one hand wrapping around his cock. Yes. Yes, please. The universe was shattering, breaking into a million pieces.
As hard as Bishop pounded into him, that was how hard his lover jacked his cock. “When I say.”
He answered with his body, clenching around Bish’s erection.
That had Bishop groaning for him, thrusting more vigorously. “Oh, fuck, soon.”
Yeah. Fuck, yes. Soon.
Panting against his face, Bishop drove them both higher and higher until he cried out, “Now!”
The word was punctuated by a sharp slap to Knight’s cock, the tip bouncing off his belly, and he shot, hard, his balls drawing up tight. Even as he came, he could feel Bishop filling him with spunk.
Everything inside him ached, the pleasure making him feel oddly empty. Bishop stayed inside him, though, cock like a pole of fire as his hands were loosened from the cuffs. Even before he thought about reaching for the gag, Knight’s arms wrapped around Bishop and held on tight.
Bishop held him for a few minutes before undoing the gag and sliding it from between his lips. “Mmm. Love you so good, baby.”
“You do. You love me better than anyone.”
“That’s fucking right. And I always will.”
He nodded. Always. Forever. All the good words.
“Sleep, baby. Jase’ll make sure there’s leftovers for us later.”
“Stay. Hold me.” He didn’t want the work to call him. He wanted to be here, with Bishop, warm and cozy and easy.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m already exactly where I belong.”
“Home.” This was home. Knight felt it deep in his bones.
“Yeah.”
He stroked Bishop’s hair, petting. “It’s good, working again.” He needed to go to the cottage, though, there were too many distractions here. He could think about it later, let this distraction have him.
“Yeah. You look alive again.” He could feel Bishop’s smile against his skin.
“Dying is hard work.”
“Nobody’s dying.” Bishop pinched his hip.
“I was. I was dying.”
“But you didn’t. You came back to me.”
“I had to.” He smiled wide. Bish hadn’t given him a choice.
“Damn right you did.” Bish kissed him again, repeating the words in a kiss.
Knight laughed, the sound bubbling right out of him. Smiling down at him, Bishop kept kissing.
He was one lucky bastard and he knew it.
Chapter Seven
Bishop hung up the phone, shaking his head. Poor Rookie was having trouble accepting that he and Knight were not at the house in the city. It had only been a week so far, but Rookie had called every day. Long sexy calls, short quick ones, and everything in between.
Knight was thriving up here, though, eager and alive. He was painting like a fiend and it was fucking good stuff. Maybe better than Knight had ever done.
Speaking of Knight… Bishop wandered through the place, eyes going to the huge windows that looked over the lake. The leaves on the trees were just beginning to turn, mostly golden with the occasional sugar maple gone a brilliant red.
He could hear the music, smell the oil in the paint, hear the slap of Knight’s hands on canvas. It was like being surrounded by art.
He totally got why Knight had bought this place, why he needed it.
When his lover laughed, the sound ringing out through the cottage, Bishop went immediately, painfully hard. He fucking loved Knight, but Knight happy and fulfilled was stunning.
He followed the sound upstairs to the studio, drawn like the proverbial moth. His lover was awash in sunlight from the huge windows, the reflections from the leaves throwing the space into a yellow haze that could only be seen this time of year. Knight naked and covered in paint made Bishop catch his breath.
Dancing. Knight was dancing, joy pouring from him.
Fuck him raw. Bishop just stood there and watched. This was why he’d supported Knight buying this place and coming here. Because Knight needed this feeling, needed this total immersion and to be taken over by his art.
It wasn’t that Knight didn’t love Rook and Jason, but here, away from the city and distractions and everything, Knight could just lose himself in the art. Knight didn’t think about the city or streets or anything but being happy. He didn’t need to be high or drunk or totally sleep deprived to work. He just needed to be.
Those eyes fell on him, and he got a wild grin. “You want to see?”
“I’m already looking at the best thing in here, but yes, I always want to see what you’ve created.”
The canvas was turned and Bish moaned. Intensely sexual, the painting was reds and purples, hints of male bodies, of cocks, open mouths.
“Fuck, Knight…” It was probably the best, most intense painting he’d ever seen from Knight. And that was saying a lot.
“Uh-huh. So good.” He got a smile—wild and happy and oddly young.
He opened his arms, wanting—no needing—to be close.
“I’m covered in paint,” Knight warned. “Lose the shirt if you like it.”
“I’ll do you one better.” He stripped completely.
“Oh, yummy.” Knight laughed and leaped for him, kissing him happily.
He managed to catch Knight, stumbling back against the wall.
Knight snuggled in, rubbing their noses together. “We should shower and then go soak in the hot tub.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” He kissed Knight soundly. “Unless you want to get dirtier first.”
“Perv.” Knight pulled away, teasing him. “I need a bath. I’m stinky.”
“I like your stink, baby.”
“You’re gross.” Knight backed out of the studio, dark hair down and loose, making him look like the wild man of Borneo.
“No, you’re the gross one, babe, remember?” Grinning, he began to give chase.
“Stinky, not gross.” Knight took off, moving through the cabin, happy and unafraid.
Laughing, Bishop kept going, his cock slapping against his belly.
Knight slid into the bathroom, catching himself on the door as his feet slid. Bishop wasn’t so lucky and he bumped into Knight, both of them slamming up against the opposite wall.
“I’ve got you!” Knight grabbed him and it was all he could do not to crack up, because he wa
s twice Knight’s size and those eyes were so serious.
“You’ll have me until the end of time.”
“It’s a deal.”
He pressed their mouths together, invading Knight’s space, his body. His hands explored, touching every inch of his lover, his beautiful boy. It would have been hotter if Knight wasn’t caked in goo and slightly sticky. Of course that was his own fault—he’d stopped Knight from showering. Laughing at the both of them, he pressed Knight harder up against the wall, rubbing them together so he was just as gooey and sticky.
“Water. Water and soap and touching,” Knight demanded.
“Oh, shower sex. Naughty boy.” It was an excellent idea, though.
“Moi? Naughty? Never!” Knight tossed his head. “I’m pure as the driven snow!”
He snorted and grabbed Knight’s hair, keeping his head back so he could attack that tempting throat.
“No hair pulling…” Knight’s Adam’s apple bobbed, tempting his teeth.
“Uh-huh.” He scraped over it.
Tiny little hairs on Knight’s throat abraded his lips, tickled him. He slid his free hand up Knight’s breastbone, up to his throat. The convulsive swallows jumped against his palm, fascinating him a little.
He licked Knight’s Adam’s apple, then dragged his teeth over it again. Knight’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, holding on tight. Yeah, that was it—he had his Knight.
He loved the soft little sighs, the way Knight’s hands trailed over him. Moaning, he licked his way up to Knight’s mouth, taking it. Knight groaned softly, tongue sliding alongside his.
As they kissed, he moved them toward the shower because honestly, paint was not the best lube. Also, if they stuck together like this he’d never convince Knight to go get pizza tonight.
He got them into the tub without killing themselves, and broke off the kiss long enough to get the water started. The splash of cold water that came out showed him what a bad idea that was.
“Ack!” Knight squealed, grabbing the faucet, like it would help.
He gritted his teeth. “Give it a second, it’ll warm up.”
He swore he could hear Rookie in his head telling him this wouldn’t have happened in the city.
“Cold! Cold!”
It finally started warming up, but by then Knight was shivering, his lips almost blue.
“Come here, baby.” He tugged Knight to him into the warming water flow, rubbing the cold skin.
“Better. Better.” Knight snuggled in to him, the paint starting to run between them.
“Look at our pretty puddles.”
“Felt so good today, Mouse. It was like the paint was fucking on the canvas.”
“And you weren’t even doing any drugs.”
“I was working. It’s better than drugs.”
That hadn’t always been true. Once upon a time, Knight had taken all the drugs in the world looking for what he had right here.
“I’m glad.”
Knight nodded, leaned back to wet his dark hair. Bishop grabbed the shampoo and began to wash it, encouraging the paint to come out.
“Oh.” Knight’s tiny sound was pure sex, happy, warm, wanton.
Bishop fucking loved how Knight abandoned himself to everything, especially to him. It had been hell, the fear, the tension, the worry. He’d thought he’d lost Knight to that fucking snowplow. He pushed Knight up against the tile, soaped his body up. Knight stretched, went up on tiptoe and wiggled.
His lover was a work of art himself.
“Look at you,” Bishop murmured.
“I get to see me all the time.”
“Not through my eyes.”
Knight flushed a deep red, eyes going dark, hot. Bending slowly, Bishop went to his knees, holding Knight’s gaze the whole time.
“Oh, Mouse.” Knight’s fingers trailed over his face.
Turning his head, he kissed Knight’s fingertips, his tongue lingering over each one.
“You love me best of anyone.”
He nodded, sucking one of Knight’s fingers in and fellating it. That earned him a husky chuckle and a soft smile. He bit the finger pad lightly as he pulled off. Then he took in the next finger. These hands were magical—they made amazing art.
He worked each finger slowly, carefully, wanting to turn Knight on one bit at a time. His lover’s face was relaxed, easy. He ran his tongue in circles along Knight’s palm when he was done. The long fingers curled, cupped his face.
It made him smile. “God, I love you, Knight.” He knew Knight knew. But he needed Knight to hear it, to know.
“I know. I’m glad you came with me.
“I’m not leaving you alone.” He’d insisted Knight let him come along, even though his lover had resisted, in the end Knight had conceded. Which was a good thing because someone had to make sure his lover ate once in a while, and slept.
“No? You think I’d get lost in the woods?”
Think? There was no doubt. None. Zero. Lost or dead from hunger or crazy from lack of sleep and human contact.
Bishop just chuckled, though, not answering more than that. He had no intention of deliberately insulting his lover.
He finally found words that wouldn’t be a lie or an insult. “I think I’m needed.”
“Always.” The immediate, easy answer felt like heaven.
“I need you too.” He’d be lost without his lover.
Knight nodded, traced the line of his nose. “Always.”
“Good.” With that, he took Knight’s cock into his mouth, sucking it in hard.
Knight offered him a wild sound, fierce, needy. Groaning, he set to bobbing his head. Knight’s cock fit in his lips perfectly, like it belonged.
He worked the underside with his tongue, swallowing around the tip. His lover hummed softly, relaxed and easy as they moved together. He rolled Knight’s balls with his fingers, swallowed again. The heavy sac tightened, pulling up.
He kept working it, rolling those lovely balls. He kept them pulled down to the bottom of the sac. Then he slid his fingers behind them, rubbing the sweet, smooth flesh behind them. The ring there teased his fingertips, made it tingle. He grabbed hold and moved it through Knight’s skin.
“Bish. Bish, aches.”
“Good.” That was the plan.
He tugged the ring, twisted it, and Knight went up on tiptoe. He loved how the piercings made everything more. He loved how the Prince Albert dragged on Knight’s cockhead.
He pulled off and looked up at Knight. “We could get you a ladder.”
“A ladder? Where am I climbing?”
“I’m climbing up your cock.” He put his fingers where the piercings would go.
“What?” Knight looked adorably confused.
“A penis ladder, baby.”
“You mean…” Those dark eyebrows lowered. “No.”
He chuckled. “It would be amazing.” He pressed a little harder with his fingernails, letting them bite slightly into Knight’s tender flesh.
“No way.” Little beads of pre-cum swelled on the tip of Knight’s cock, countering his words.
“Fuck yes, way.” Bishop marched his fingernails along Knight’s erection again.
“Not happening. I have enough.”
He licked the pre-cum from the top of Knight’s cock. “Your mouth says no, but your body is talking a different language all together.”
“And you’re fluent in that?”
“You bet your sweet and talented ass I am.”
“You could put it on your resume. Fluent in Knight.”
“I would—if I was looking to be anywhere but here. But this is where I belong.”
“That is the truth.” Knight slid down the tile, pushed into his lap. “Still not letting you do that.”
“Suck you?” He’d been making a feast of Knight’s cock.
“More piercings.”
“Oh! I think it’ll be gorgeous. Make you even sexier than you are now.”
“No way,” Knight said again.
His cock was hard as nails, though.
“Fuck yes, way.” He wrapped his hand around the lovely cock, tugging with long, easy movements. The rings were going to tease his hand, all the way up. And Knight would always feel them, soft, hard, working, not.
That settled it. They were doing it. First thing when they got back to the city. It would make Jason’s head spin. And Rookie would love it, love sucking it.
He could draw a soft ribbon through the ladder, then the PA and tie the bow at Knight’s guiche. His own cock was hard, leaking madly just at the thought.
Knight reached down, grabbed his cock and stroked it, base to tip.
“We’re gonna do it, baby.” He rocked into Knight’s touch. “We’re gonna make everyone fly.”
“Be quiet, Bish, and let me get you off.”
He laughed. “You’re not going to make me forget.”
“I might. There’s a chance I’m magical.”
“Oh, no chance there—you are the most magical person I know.”
Knight smiled for him, thumb working the ridge of his cockhead and rubbing it nice and slow. Groaning, he took a kiss, letting the pleasure take him—for now.
They’d have to go to the city soon, eventually.
Chapter Eight
Jason was at the kitchen table, studying, books all around him as he made notes on his laptop. He had been studying all afternoon and Rook was…well, bored. And he missed Knight and Bishop. There should be loud music coming out of Knight’s studio but it was just quiet.
He sighed. He didn’t like this.
“What’s wrong, Rook?” Jason looked up from his books.
He put a bright smile on his face. “Nothing, honey.”
“Liar.” Jason looked back down, scribbling a note or two. “Do you want to go to the cabin? See them?”
“I don’t think they want me there.”
“What? Of course they do.” This time the pen dropped to the table and Jason pushed his chair out.
He shook his head. “You need to study and I’m just distracting you—that’s why Knight’s there. No distractions that way. I’ll go…uh, check on the store.” He headed for the front hall and his coat, telling himself to stop being such a baby. He wasn’t the center of the world.