He had always liked blue.

Even knowing how sexy he always was when he wore black, he still preferred blue.

Blue was associated with his best memories and experiences.

During his troubled childhood, he had gazed up at the blue sky, lying on the roof of his house, the endless canvas providing him with a sense of calmness, something that was normally non-existent in his home.

Blue had been the color of the shirt his soccer team had worn in high school; it had been through his skill with that sport that he had received a scholarship that had allowed him to redefine his life.

His first car had been blue, as well as the color on the walls of his first apartment, and he had celebrated obtaining his first important advertising client by splurging on his first Armani suit – a navy blue one. 

Not to mention the blue lights that for a decade had been the background behind the altar of sex otherwise known as his king-sized bed.

Yes, he had always loved the color blue.

Then one day he found a new definition of blue.

Now, after more than fifteen years, he is totally lost in the depths of a different shade of blue; one that represents desire, lust, passion, trust, friendship, security, companionship, and love.

Fuck the idea that orange is the new blue; his client might have thought so, but he knew otherwise.  Nothing could ever compare. 

For him the greatest representation of that particular color could be found in the unique shade of blue he saw every morning when he woke up next to the man he loved, and when he looked into his husband's eyes.

Now that blue was simply…perfection.