“What the fuck is going on here?”

“Brian!” Justin said, jumping up from the floor, apparently not even concerned that his dick was currently a shade of pink not typically found in nature. “I thought you weren’t getting back till Friday.”

“The conference was shit, so I caught an earlier flight,” Brian said, and dropped his luggage to the floor. “Had I known I’d be treated to a display of your new painting techniques, I would have grabbed an even earlier one.”

“Shut up,” Justin said. “I’m working on a project.”

“A project,” Brian repeated. He approached Justin, then spun him around so he had a perfect view of his completely paint-covered ass. “And that’s why your ass is pinker than the time last month when I took a paddle to it.”

“It’s for that Think Positive benefit I was telling you about,” Justin said. “Remember, they asked me to contribute a collection of pieces they could sell off to raise money.”

“Ah,” Brian said. “Now, you know I generally tell people who ask me for money to kiss my ass, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit far by sending them an actual print of your derriere?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I was over at Daphne’s and when I stood up from the couch, I saw the imprint my ass left looked a lot like a heart. So then I got this great idea. There’s still a stigma about gay sex, so I thought I’d paint with my ass to demonstrate that it’s actually beautiful, a way for two people to express their love for each other.” He grinned. “And to have a little fun while I was at it.”

Brian glanced around the room, taking in all the paint-covered canvases spread out on top of the garbage bag-lined floor. “I can see that.”

“I made one really good print,” Justin said. He held up one canvas for Brian to see; Brian had to admit, the imprint of Justin’s rosy cheeks did look quite a bit like a rosy heart. “But I really need a series, lots of heart-shaped ass prints of all different colors, and I can’t seem to replicate it.”

“And may I ask why you’re doing this at the loft instead of at your studio?” Brian asked, removing his shirt and tie.

“Well, I can’t exactly put my pants back on after I have paint all over my ass,” Justin said. “I figured at least this way I could take a shower. Plus I need to wash off my ass every time I need to use a different color.”

“I see,” Brian said. He began to walk around the loft, taking in all the attempts. It was fascinating, really. After so long with Justin, he prided himself that he knew Sunshine’s ass inside and out. But seeing it inked onto the page … well, it certainly offered a new perspective.

“But I’m beginning to think that first one was a fluke,” Justin said. “I can’t quite get my cheeks positioned right, and … what are you doing?”

Brian glanced up from tugging off his shoes and pants. “Well, if there’s anybody who’s an expert in positioning your cheeks, it’s me. But I certainly can’t do that in Armani, can I?”

Justin grinned and shook his head. “I knew you’d enjoy this way too much. But I do actually have a deadline. I need to have at least four paintings done by tomorrow.”

“And I’m helping you meet that deadline by offering you invaluable guidance and critique,” Brian said. “Am I not the one who showed you just how beautiful gay sex can be?”

“Fine,” Justin said. “But I’m serious. No fucking until I’ve actually gotten somewhere with this.”

“Scout’s honor,” Brian said, holding up his hand. “Now, I believe I’ve identified a major problem.”

“Oh?”

“Your balls are too big,” Brian said, smirking as he held up a painting, one that left an impression of far more than just Justin’s ass. “They’re getting in the way.”

“Well, that’s what I get for spending a decade with you,” Justin said.

“You’re welcome,” Brian said. “Have any green paint?”

Justin rolled his eyes and handed Brian a disposable tray filled with green paint. “I don’t even know why I poured that. Green doesn’t really go with the color scheme I had in my head.”

“No,” Brian said, and dipped his fingers into the paint. After examining Justin’s ass print with the same scrutiny he would the boards for a crucial pitch, he added a few strategic lines, then held up the new and improved painting for Justin to see. “However, it does allow us to make a charming painting of a tulip, making perfect use of your ass, cock, and balls.”

Justin burst out laughing. “You asshole.”

“I can’t help it,” Brian said, and took Justin in his arms, just as he’d wanted to do from the second he walked into the loft. “Your ass just inspires me.”

Brian kissed him, unable to resist copping a feel as well. Screw what Justin said about no sex before finishing his work; Brian happened to know for a fact Justin had produced some of his best work after a mind-blowing orgasm. Of course, Brian strived to keep him a perpetual state of post-coital bliss, so that may not be saying much.

“Oh, shit,” Justin said. “I should have warned you – paint’s still wet.”

Brian glanced down. His left thigh was now the same magenta hue of Justin’s dick and balls, and his hands, which had already been covered with green paint, now also had traces of pink as well.

“Making a mess now, are we?”

“Hey, I put down the garbage bags,” Justin said. “I was being very neat until – Brian!”

“What?” Brian asked innocently, not even looking up from where he was tracing random spiraling designs on Justin’s chest. “Just working with my canvas.”

“Your canvas, hmm?” Justin asked with a laugh. “I’ve never seen this artsy side of you before.”

“Well, that’s because I didn’t realize you could paint with your ass,” Brian said, and gave Justin’s a firm swat. “And youknow I’ve always been interested in that.”

“That’s an advanced technique,” Justin said. “Any true artist first has to master the basics.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm.” Justin disentangled himself from Brian’s arms, and Brian was briefly irritated that apparently his skills had deteriorated enough that he was no longer able to suitably distract Justin from work. Then Justin whirled around, paintbrush in hand, and swiped it against Brian’s chest.

“Hey!” Brian looked down at the thick red line that ran from just above his left nipple and then down his sternum.

“What?” Justin asked, not even bothering to try to contain the grin on his face. “I thought you wanted an art lesson.”

“And I thought we were focusing on your ass.”

“Michelangelo didn’t paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel before practicing on paper first,” Justin said. He tapped his chin with the end of his paintbrush, then, with an exaggerated flourish, drew a few squiggles around Brian’s nipples. Brian closed his eyes and shivered; his nipples were already rather sensitive, and the bristles of the paintbrush ever so slightly brushing against them made his cock twitch. “There! I call it ‘Nipple Daisies.’”

“I call it, ‘Fuck You,’” Brian said, looking down. “Your turn, you little twat.”

“Try me.”

Brian found some paint in another tray, this time a delightful plum, and dipped his fingers into it. “You’ll love this, Picasso.”

“You know, you could use a brush if you’re so worried about getting yourself dirty,” Justin said. “Or, you know, if you’re ready to move past finger painting.”

“A true genius doesn’t have to rely on toys,” Brian said, getting to work.

“I’ve seen your top drawer,” Justin said, looking down to try to see what Brian was painting. “You can’t tell me you don’t love your toys.”

“Some things calls for a personal touch,” Brian said, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Scrawled across Justin’s chest were the words “Property of Brian Kinney.” It suited him.

“Oh, this is war,” Justin said. He kneeled down, dipped his hands in that damn pink paint, and launched.

From then on, it was a fucking free for all. Justin tickled Brian’s sides, turning his stomach pink; Brian retaliated by squeezing Justin’s face with bright blue fingers. Justin squeezed a tube of orange paint at Brian, splattering his hair and shoulders; Brian hurled an entire tray filled with yellow paint at Justin, turning him into actual sunshine personified.

It was childish, juvenile, and messy as hell, and definitely not the way the CEO of Pittsburgh’s top advertising agency, especially one pushing, Christ, forty, should be spending his Tuesday afternoon, but fuck, it was fun. And what was the point of keeping a younger lover around if you weren’t able to occasionally act half – okay, a quarter – your age?

Of course, it also lent itself to decidedly more adult activities …

“My, my, Taylor,” Brian said. He trailed his fingers across Justin’s chest, leaving streaks of orange and pink and blue against yellow. He looked a bit like a sunset. “Does your cock always get hard when you’re painting?”

“Only when I’m particularly inspired,” Justin said. “And I have to say, you’re looking particularly inspiring right now. You should wear green more often. It brings out your eyes.”

“Aww, Sunshine, stop. You’re making me blush.”

“Couldn’t tell beneath all that blue on your cheeks,” Justin said. “Now, hold still. I want to paint your hard on.”

“Again?” Brian asked with mock exasperation. “You’ve painted me naked so many times I’m beginning to think you ‘re only using me as a cheap nude model.”

“You misunderstand me,” Justin said, and dipped a paintbrush into some royal blue paint. “I want to paint your dick.”

“Just – oh, fuck.”

It was just the slightest brush of soft bristles along the length of his shaft, but damn if it didn’t take all of Brian’s willpower not to thrust his hips and demand Justin suck him right then and there, paint and all. Then Justin kneeled down and started circling the head with his brush, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he examined Brian’s cock as intently as he would one of his art projects.

Brian would never dream of doing something like this with anybody else. It was, without a doubt, one of the most unique sexual experiences of his life.

It was also fucking hot as hell.

Brian hissed as the brush rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot. The soft bristles were such a fucking tease – all concentrated in a small area, they offered a firm yet tantalizing touch. Combined with the coolness of the wet paint hitting his skin, Justin’s ministrations had Brian craving more.

“Your cock seems to like getting dressed up,” Justin said, dipping the brush into more paint. “It’s definitely gotten harder.”

“Well, it’s always nice to be – fuck!”

Justin smiled beatifically up at him. “I thought for once you might enjoy some blue balls.”

Brian groaned. This fucking settled it. Justin had better have another set of paintbrushes, because this one was joining the dildos and anal beads in his top drawer. “Justin …”

“Hmm?” Justin asked. Then, while still absently brushing over Brian’s balls, turning them a far deeper shade of indigo than Brian ever would have anticipated he’d like his genitalia to be, he licked his perineum, nearly making Brian come on the spot.

That little motherfucker.

Bracing his hands on Justin’s shoulders, Brian shoved him to the floor and straddled his waist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

Justin grinned. “Are you referring to my exceptional artistic abilities, or that I know just where to lick to make you come? Either way, I’d say I’m pretty much a fucking master.”

“I’ll show you a master,” Brian said, and reached for a stray tube of purple paint. Squirting some on his cock definitely didn’t feel as good as lube, but it was pretty damn satisfying nonetheless. Especially the way Justin’s eyes widened, as though he thought Brian had gone entirely around the bend but he kind of liked it. “I’m going to paint you.”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Justin said, dropping his head to the floor.

“Paint you a pretty necklace,” Brian said as, gripping his cock, he drew a curved line from one of Justin’s shoulder blades to the other. “How do you like that, Sunshine? I told you I didn’t need to rely on toys.”

Justin only moaned, which encouraged Brian to squirt some more paint onto both his dick and Justin’s chest.

“That’s it,” Brian said, dragging his dick around Justin’s chest, watching it leave a trail of purple paint. “We should do this every night. You can see exactly where I’ve touched you. Where my cock has been. All over your hot little body.”

Justin’s breath caught in his throat.

“And then I’ll make you go out without taking a shower,” Brian continued. He dipped his dick back in the paint, but this time moved closer to Justin’s face. Justin turned his head instinctively, ready to suck, but Brian kept him just out of reach. “And they’ll ask why you’re covered from head to toe in paint, why you’re covered in so many different colors, and you’ll have to tell them. What will you say, Sunshine?”

“Christ.”

“Christ can’t help you right now, sweetheart,” Brian said with a smirk. “Only me. So if you want this to continue, you better answer my question.”

“I’d … I’d say that you’d just fucked me,” Justin said.

“Better,” Brian said, rewarding him with a swipe of his dick under his chin. “Tell me more.”

“I’d say that you fucked me, and that you’d had your hands all over me,” Justin said, his voice sounding strained. “And you ran your hard dick all over my body and painted me.” He lifted his head and made direct eye contact with Brian. “And that you made me come so fucking hard I saw stars.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Brian said, trailing his dick down the length of Justin’s chest. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re going to see every fucking color of the goddamn rainbow before you pass out.”

“Promises, promises,” Justin said, but then Brian shifted his hips so they rubbed against his cock and he groaned.

Brian slapped the side of his thigh, leaving a trace of a teal and yellow handprint. “Roll over.”

Clearly too turned on to come up with another smartass remark, Justin obeyed, immediately rolling over and sticking his ass in the air. Brian hummed in appreciation. Justin’s ass was a spectacular vision to behold on the most ordinary of days, but now it was particularly extraordinary. Brian had just been trying to work Justin up earlier, but the truth was, it was fucking hot to see Justin’s ass covered in pinks and red, in yellows and oranges, and know it was because Brian had touched him there, had stroked him there, had kissed him there. It satisfied a primal urge inside of him, one that he’d stopped denying grew stronger with every passing day, to claim Justin entirely for his own. It was territorial as hell, but Brian honestly was severely tempted to hold true to his threat to make Justin walk outside just like this.

“Brian?”

“Hang on,” he said, and, with a parting slap to Justin’s ass, reluctantly stood up. There was lube and condoms in the drawer of the end table by the couch, but fuck if Brian was going to ruin a $5,000 table with wet paint. As quickly and carefully as he was able, he grabbed the necessary supplies from the bathroom. “Ready, Sunshine?”

“I was born ready,” Justin said, wriggling his ass.

Brian, of course, smacked it, and then soothed the sting with a kiss. “It’s too bad we don’t have a mirror out here. You’re going to be quite the picture by the time I’m done with you. You might want to paint it later.”

“Haven’t you been reading your issues of Rage? I’ve drawn you fucking me plenty of times.”

“Who said anything about fucking you?” Brian picked up the paintbrush, then covered the handle with a generous amount of lubricant, meticulously slicking it up and down. “I’m going to have a bit of fun with you first.”

“What – oh, Christ, Brian!”

Brian smirked as he carefully worked the brush into Justin’s hole, inching it in while also moving it in small, teasing circles. Justin’s ass clenched around it, even as Justin himself was muttering about what a sick, perverted asshole Brian was. Brian only bit his lip and continued inserting the brush. He wouldn’t be able to make it go as deeply as one of their favorite dildos, not without risk of doing some damage, but it was pretty fucking pleasing as a novelty.

“There,” he said, when he had the brush in as far as he dared, and sat back on his haunches. “Now that’s a fucking picture.”

“I … I thought you didn’t need to rely on toys,” Justin gasped. Even through all the paint, Brian could tell he was beginning to break a sweat, and his arms were trembling.

“I’m not relying on anything,” Brian said, slowly thrusting the brush in and out. “This is only enhancing the experience.”

“Fuck!”

“In a minute,” Brian said agreeably. “I like this. It looks like you have a blue feathery tail. My own little bird.”

“You sick fuck,” Justin said. It sounded like he was trying to laugh, but didn’t have quite enough air left in his lungs to do it.

Brian leaned over Justin’s body, angling the brush for his prostate. He was rewarded with a long moan. “I like it when you sing for me.”

“Brian …”

"Funny, I didn't know birds could talk."

"Ha fucking ha," Justin said, thrusting his ass back. "Now if you're done showing off, would you mind putting your goddamn dick in me?"

"Say please," Brian said, and gave the brush another nudge.

"Brian, you've got me on my knees with a paintbrush in my ass. Now's not the time."

"On the contrary," Brian said. "I think it's exactly the time."

Justin sighed. "Fine. Would you please remove the goddamn paintbrush, roll a condom on your dick, and then finally fuck me into the floor? Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Brian said. He ripped open the condom wrapper and sheathed his dick, but he left the paintbrush in Justin's ass for a moment longer. "Are you sure you don't want me to take a picture? Your ass really is a work of art. I’d love to make it my screensaver at work."

"My ass is always a work of art," Justin said. "Now fuck me."

Brian didn't bother correcting him on his manners this time; as hot and, well, as fun as all this painting had been, suddenly it was clear in his mind that the time for art class had ended and the time for fucking had begun. Gingerly, he removed the paintbrush and cast it aside, and in one hard thrust, shoved his cock into Justin.

"Oh, yes," Justin said, and hung his head. "That's it."

"So hot," Brian said, slowly pushing in and out of Justin. He did actually wish they had a mirror. He could only imagine what they looked like together, two men covered head to toe and everywhere in between in hundreds of colors, fucking on top of paint-splattered canvases. He would have thought all the colors would have blended together to form some hideous, splotchy shade that Sherwin-Williams wouldn't dare sell in a can. But it really was fucking gorgeous. At least on Justin, anyway. Moving beneath Brian, his skin covered in streaks in every variation of the colors of the rainbow, he looked like some kind of otherworldly sex god.

"Fuck, yes," Justin said. "Oh, shit. Fuck me. Harder."

Brian wasn't really in the mood to take orders, but he'd been away for three days, which meant he was down at least a dozen fucks with Justin, so he really didn't mind humoring him. This time.

"You like it better than the paintbrush?" Brian asked, gripping Justin's hips and thrusting in harder.

"Fuck, yeah," Justin said.

"Touch yourself," Brian demanded. "Jerk yourself off."

"Yes," Justin said as he threw his head back and began fisting his cock. Brian could tell he was going to come any second. He made that noise, Brian's favorite, the one that was a cross between a moan and a gasp, every time Brian hit his prostate, which, thanks to Brian's experience and expertise in fucking Justin, was precisely every other thrust.

"You love this," Brian said, slamming into him. "You love my cock. Love feeling it fill you up. Love how fucking hard you get."

"Brian …" Justin whined.

"Say it," Brian said. "Tell me you love my dick."

"I … I love your, Christ! I love your dick."

"Yeah. So fucking tight. You miss this, Sunshine? Missed my cock pounding into your ass?"

"Missed it," Justin just barely managed to make out. "Missed you."

Brian groaned. He was close to coming himself, andn needed to get Justin off soon. Fortunately, he knew just the thing. "Love fucking you," he said, and reached around so that he too was gripping Justin's cock. "Fucking love you."

"Fuck, Brian!" Justin shouted, and shot his load all over their hands.

Brian rode out Justin's climax, pounding into him in time with Justin's moans before finally coming, gasping, with his name on his lips.

Both of them breathing heavily, Brian eased out of Justin and pulled off the condom. "Now that was fucking art," he said, tying off the condom and tossing it aside.

Justin laughed as he rolled over and pulled Brian down on top of him. "Yeah, but you owe me a complete overhaul of art supplies. I'm going to have to completely start over."

Brian brushed his lips over Justin's. "Why?" Another kiss.

"Um, I don't know," Justin said, grinning as Brian continued to plaster his face with kisses and nuzzle his neck. "Maybe because we managed to get every color of paint on nearly every canvas I had spread out on the floor? How am I supposed to make heart-shaped ass prints on them now?"

Brian sighed dramatically and reluctantly heaved himself off of Justin. "Must I come up with all your ingenious ideas?" He reached for the canvas closest to them and held it up for Justin to see. "Clearly the vivid colors and energetic patterns symbolize the coming together – quite literally – of two happy homos in love, engaging in the carnal acts as old as time itself, the beautiful, delightful art of ass fucking."

Justin laughed outright. "Well, you're certainly in the right career. You can sell anything."

"I can sell anything because I'm fucking brilliant," Brian said. "You laugh, but you know I’m right."

Justin peered closer at the painting. "You know … you actually might have something there."

"I told you," Brian said.

"Although I can't use that one," Justin said. "Pretty sure it has my come on it."

"Then we'll save this one to hang in the kitchen," Brian said, and settled back in Justin's arms. "I'm sure there are plenty more that were safely out of shooting range."

Justin chuckled and twirled some of Brian's hair with his fingers. "You know, that was a pretty dirty trick."

"What, turning your art project into an excuse for sex?"

"I mean telling me you love me to get me to shoot so you won't suffer the indignity of coming first."

"Oh, that," Brian said. "It seemed like the right time."

"Uh huh," Justin said. "And how about now, when we're not fucking? Still the right time?"

Brian lined his fingers up perfectly with four distinct blue spots on Justin's cheek, smiling as he remembered just how they got there. Justin's gaze was soft as he looked up at him, then kissed the inside of his wrist. It was so fucking them, Brian realized. The wildest, most passionate sex he'd ever known, interspersed with more joy and laughter than he'd ever expected to experience in his life, and all intermingled with, well, might as well call it what it was.

Love.

"Yeah," Brian said, and leaned in to kiss Justin once more. "It's the fucking perfect time."