………………

I can hear him around me, behind me, puttering around the loft. Not that he’d ever call it puttering. Or obsessively making everything just so… No, he’d never admit to that level of anal behaviour. Even though we both know he does it. He just hides it less than he used to before we lived together. This time.

I turn my attention back to the colours in front of me. Try to focus on letting them flow, letting it come. Fuck. Try again. Let it go, Justin… breathe…

When the cramp hits my hand, I watch the brush fall to the floor in slow motion. I can’t help the curse even though I know Brian’s watching me now. Fucking god-damn hand! After this many years you’d think it wouldn’t happen anymore. Wouldn’t bug me anymore either…

I bend down to wipe up the splatters on the hardwood. Can’t have Mr. Obsessive-Compulsive see oil paint on the floors. I know it’s not fair to be mad at him, but fuck! I have to be mad at someone right now. And it left a huge fucking streak of red down the canvas. Fuck.

Suddenly he’s behind me, his warmth and his scent reaching me before I even see him. I feel the muscles in my body start to relax just from his proximity.

“You look fucking hot when you work, you know that?” his voice is soft in my ear, his breath making me shiver a bit. I can feel the anger starting to drain away but I fight it. Fuck it – I want to be mad. I need to be mad right now.

His hands are on my waist, slipping under my shirt to brush the skin of my back. It makes me arch a little, pushing my ass back ‘till I feel him behind me.

“Brian.” I don’t want this right now. “Don’t. I’m not in the mood.” My voice sounds angrier than I feel, but I don’t care.

He doesn’t stop though, doesn’t pull away. His fingers rest softly in the hollow of my lower back. Then one hand comes around to the front of my body, sliding down my arm. I shift a bit, annoyed that he’s touching me, wanting to get away from him.

Wanting to sink back into his arms. But I can’t.

“Brian. Fuck off. I’m working.” His hand keeps moving.

“Let go. What the fuck are you doing?” He’s holding my brush, his hand inside mine.

“Show me.” His lips against my ear make me shudder, even when I don’t want to. Betrayed by my own fucking cock. I can feel his behind me, pressing gently into me. I will not push back into him. I’m working.

“Show you what? That you’re an asshole and you’re bugging me when I’m trying to work?” God, I’m a bitch today. So sue me.

His hand starts to move the brush. I huff, grabbing his hand tighter to stop him.

“How to paint…” he murmurs softly behind me. Now his other hand is moving. Shit. How he can do that is beyond me. I try not to close my eyes but his fingers are in the cleft of my ass, stroking me in that way he knows I can’t ignore. My cock is fully hard now. Crap.

“Don’t patronize me, Brian.” My voice sounds a lot less angry. Asshole.

“Show me what it feels like…” His words go straight to my dick. God, why do I always hate him and love him at the same fucking time? His hips are rocking gently against me. And I’m really trying not to follow them.

Fine.

He wants a painting lesson? Fine.

“Let go, Brian. You’re holding too tight. Loosen your wrist.” I shake his hand a bit, rotating his wrist slightly. “You need it to move the way you want it to feel. Long, slow strokes for flow, for calmness. Short, choppy strokes for speed, for intensity.” I mimic my words with our hands. He’s surprisingly fluid under my grip.

“You don’t have to be exact on the length and the direction of the brush until you’re doing the final strokes for that section of the canvas. You can throw the colour down first, let it go where it wants to. Then neaten it up when you’re happy with the feel of it.”

I’m pulling the brush across the canvas, his longer arm allowing me to reach almost all of it even though he’s behind me. I’ve forgotten about his other hand until I feel warm, smooth skin on my bare back. I try to ignore it but then it rubs against me and I realize it’s the head of his cock. I breathe in, continuing with my lesson.

He appears to be paying total attention to the painting, but I feel his other arm moving behind me, his knuckles brushing against me. I close my eyes for a second. He’s not…

I resist the urge to look, clenching the hand with the brush a bit more, moving it back to the right side of the canvas. I’m talking about underpainting now, weaving an image as a layer, intending to cover it up with another image, or a colour, or a texture. His breath is increasing a tiny bit in my ear. I look at our hands and realize I’m stroking the canvas at the same speed as his hand behind me. Shit. I move the brush to a different spot.

The intakes of his breath are getting louder, the small catch before he releases the air is just about to happen. I can feel my body moving in response to his before I can stop it.

“Brian.” A whisper is all I can get out.

“So hot.” He whispers back. “Tortured artist and art teacher, all rolled into one…”

He’s teasing me, but I laugh anyway. “Didn’t know you had a thing for art teachers. Or tortured artists…”

“Only one.” He still makes my breath stop when he does that. And he does it all the time now.

I feel his hands pushing the back of my pants lower, exposing more skin. Why do I wear pants that are loose enough for him to do this? I feel a small trail of liquid cooling on my skin as he rubs his cock across my ass. Huh. That’s why I wear pants like this. They fall to the ground, pooling around my ankles. I’m going to trip if I move. He doesn’t mind. He likes it when I can’t move.

He also likes it when I don’t wear underwear. I smile as I hear his stuttered breath. I try to turn around but he keeps his hand on the brush, the brush on the canvas. “Keep going…” he says.

New kink – art-sex? Teacher-sex? Whatever… I don’t mind, as long as he keeps rubbing his knuckles over the crack of my ass as he jerks himself off. He knows how much I love it when he jerks himself off in front of me. Or behind me…

I can’t think of anything to say, so I just steer his hand, sweeping the brush over the surface in front of me. It’s a little tricky to pick up more paint from the palette hooked to the side of the easel, but we’re managing. I start to focus on it more, feel it more. It’s weird to guide his hand rather than just using my own, but I’ve got the hang of it now.

He’s so compliant. I wish I could get his hand to be like this when we’re in bed. He can’t help but take the lead there. Not that I mind, but I like being in charge. He lets me do it so rarely. But I like it when he’s in charge too, and he knows it…

He’s making these little noises in my ear, warm, wet noises. I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it. Then his cock is pushing lower, his hand guiding it between my legs. He’s rubbing the head lower, making me arch my back, push my hips into him. God.

“Want you…” he whispers, his body pulling away for a moment while he reaches for something.

Then he’s back, his cock slick and cold from the lube. I gasp as it slides into my crack. Still not used to it, no matter how long it’s been since we became monogamous, since we got tested, since the condom box got dusty in the closet.

I’m not moving our hands now, the brush pressing hard into the canvas as we lean against it. Then he pulls our hands back a bit, setting the brush straight.

“Keep painting…” he murmurs.

“Uh…” I try to articulate something more than that but his cock is pressing against my hole.

“Can’t…” I mutter.

“Show me what it feels like…” he whispers. He’s rolling his hips, pushing the head in the tiniest bit on each forward roll.

I want to remind him that he knows full well what it feels like, that he’s had my cock in his ass enough times to know, but I suck in a breath as he pushes further into me. He wiggles his hand in mine, so I try to focus on doing something with it. Don’t really care what.

I watch our hands slide the brush back and forth as he pushes further, my eyes squinting as I try to lean forward more to get his cock at the angle I want it without pressing my face into the paint.

He stops when he’s all the way inside me, our bodies pressed tight. His free arm wraps around my waist, holding me snug to him. “Paint…” he prompts.

I take a breath, letting my body still around him. I start to move our hands but he wiggles the brush again, nudging it into my hand and pulling his own away. I stand there holding the brush, looking over my shoulder at him as much as I can. I hear him. He knows I’m ok now.

“Paint.” He whispers again, his lips hot against my ear. Both of his hands wrap around my hipbones, holding me still. I close my eyes – I know he’s going to fuck me slowly, he’s going to hold me where he wants me and uh… huh… I moan as he starts to move, pleasure lighting up inside me as the head of his cock pushes against the inside of my body.

I make a few half-hearted strokes with the brush, but I can’t focus. I let the brush fall. Fuck the paint splatters this time. I grip the edges of the canvas with my hands, needing to hold onto something.

“You’ll get paint on your hands…” he whispers as he finds a rhythm behind me.

“Fuck it.” I mutter.

He starts to move in earnest, his body finding a familiar speed. I try not to tip the easel over, try to keep my knees from giving out. I’m moaning every time his cock drags past my prostate. I want him to touch my dick now. God.

“Wanna fuck you like this…” he stutters. I love it when his voice sounds like that.

“You… are…” I answer, my words coming in gasps.

“Tied like this…” he grunts as he says it. His foot pushes against mine, shoving it to the leg of the easel. He does the same with the other side, spreading my legs so they’re against the bottom of the easel legs. I moan.

“Would be so hot…” he murmurs as his hand reaches around to my cock. I can only nod. I know I’ll marvel later at how it can still seem titillating and erotic and exciting for him to do this – to talk dirty to me, to restrain me, to take me, no matter how many times we’ve done that.

“Tomorrow…” I whisper. “I’ve gotta paint first…” I hear his laugh as I start to come.

……………….

I hear the elevator coming up, then hear his footsteps in the hall. I feel my cock throb as the grating metal sound of the door announces his arrival.

Before he’s even walked into the room, I’m there, my mouth on his. I need to taste him, to feel him. And distract him.

He laughs softly as I slam into him, but his mouth responds in kind, his tongue pushing against mine as we kiss. God, I love that he always responds when I want to touch him or kiss him. That he can go from casually walking in the door to gripping my hips and kissing me fiercely as his cock pushes upwards between us in three seconds flat. I kiss him harder, moaning my appreciation into his mouth.

He pulls back after a few minutes, eyes narrower and darker now. He leans his forehead against mine. “What was that for?” he grins.

“Missed you…” I answer, leading him by the hand towards the dining room. He follows slowly, not really resisting.

“How’d the painting go today?” he asks, his eyes searching my face but pretending not to.

“Fine.” I smile. More than fine, actually. I was fucking brilliant. And now I’m fucking horny.

I see his eyebrows go up as I hear his laugh. I know what he’s spotted. That’s ok – I wanted him to see them. He walks closer to the table, fingering the thick leather when he stops at its’ edge. He looks up at me, eyes smirking and mouth trying not to smile. “I take it I’m not the only one who liked the idea of tying you to your easel…” he grins again.

I smile back, moving closer to him. I reach my hands out, loosening his tie slowly. I pull it through the collar of his shirt, letting the silk slide over his chest as it falls away from him. Then I reach for the buttons, my hands pulling them open as he smiles at me. He smiles at me a lot these days. He’s not going to soon, though.

Once his shirt is off, I trail my fingers down his chest, stopping briefly at his nipples. He doesn’t moan, but I see the slight stiffening of his posture, the small twitch in his body when I pinch one, then the other.

I inhale deeply as I slide down his body, yanking his belt and fly open impatiently. He leans back against the table as my tongue flicks the ridge of his cock. His hand comes to the back of my head as my mouth opens around him, a small huff of air leaving his lips. I suck him hard right away, making his hips jerk. I glance up and his eyes are closed, his head tipping back.

I keep my mouth moving as I reach behind him, pulling both of the cuffs closer to me. One of his hands is flat on the table, supporting some of his weight as he leans back. The other is still on the back of my head, holding gently.

I up the suction on his cock, a low groan leaving his mouth as he pushes into mine. I shake my head a bit, letting him know I want him to take his hand away. He puts it on the table like the first one, holding his body weight on flat palms.

It takes him a second to realize I’m touching his wrists, but by then I’ve got one cuff done up and I’m grabbing for the second arm. He opens his eyes, looking to see what I’m doing, but the blowjob is making him slow and fuzzy. He pulls his arm away a bit, but I can keep a hold of him and get the second one done up before he’s fully aware.

I hear the laugh and look up at his face, still sucking. I pull off, letting my tongue lap the underside of the head while I’m blinking up at him under my lashes. He’s such a sucker for watching me do this. I feel his body relax again as he swallows heavily and stares. I make it good, licking the head and slowly sucking it into my mouth and letting it out again, the tip of my tongue pressing hard on the sensitive spot below the head. His arms are out in front of him, his sarcastic remark and the intent to undo the cuffs forgotten for a moment as I work his cock with my lips and tongue.

I push his arms gently back to the table as I suck him deep, his hands bracing his body again. I push them closer together behind him, sucking as hard as I can. His breathing is raspy now; I can taste that he’s close.

I click the cuffs together fast, then let his cock pop out of my mouth as he jerks forward, pulling against the restraints keeping his arms behind his back. His eyes get very dangerous, very fast. His cock’s not any softer though…

He doesn’t even say my name, just raises his eyebrow at me. Not in the smirking, teasing kind of way. In the I’m going to give you one last chance kind of way. It makes my cock ache.

When I don’t move, he says my name slowly. Quietly. The desire to tame him is uncontrollable. I can’t stop this now, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t…

He says it again when I don’t respond.

I lick my lips, just staring at him. I see his breath making his nostrils flare a bit as we stare at each other. I’m ready for this.

I push him in the chest, hard. He falls back a bit, sitting back down on the edge of the table. His eyes narrow again, glittering fiercely. I’m so hard I could scream.

I reach my hand to his glistening cock, stroking it roughly as I speak.

“You can’t get out of this, Brian.” He just stares at me. My thumb rubs the underside of the head, making a path to the slit. He’s wet, and it’s not from my mouth. I press hard, my fingers gripping his cock as my thumb moves. He shifts slightly, despite himself.

“You think I’m going to give you this…?” his voice is low, menacing.

I circle my thumb around his slit, opening it as I press down.

“No.” I bring a drop of pre-cum to my mouth, licking it from my thumb as we stare at each other. “I’m going to take it.” I tell him.

He laughs darkly, but we both know I can hear the desire in his voice. I’ll let him pretend, that’s ok. He’s struggling to keep his hips still as I pump his cock. He doesn’t want to move, I know that. But he’s off balance now, not in control.

“Justin, you’re going to undo these cuffs. Right now.” His voice is very low.

I keep stroking him as I talk, but I lean in close to his face, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Brian.” I lick his mouth, and he jerks his head back, pulling away, eyes wary.

I take my hand from his cock, letting it run over his rounded shoulder, down the length of his arm until I can’t reach behind him without moving. I look into his eyes again.

“God, you’re beautiful like this, Brian…” I murmur. I let my hand skim over his chest, barely brushing the hard nub of his nipple. I bring my lips to the skin of his neck, kissing the rough stubble at the edge of his jaw.

“Do you know how much this turns me on…?” I ask softly. My lips keep planting small kisses along his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. I can feel his chest moving with his breath.

He huffs a bit, the moan disguised as a laugh as I suck his earlobe into my mouth. “You’ll never make it, Justin…” he taunts quietly. “You’ll come the moment you get near me.”

I smile. “I know,” I whisper, leaning my hips closer to his, our cocks lining up between us. I open my hand, taking us both in the curve of my fingers. He twitches as I start to stroke. I moan at the feel of his hot, hard cock against mine, my hand rubbing us both. I speed up, my breath fast, faster than his now.

“That’s… why…” I pause, a wave of pleasure making me groan, “…I’m going to come now.” I close my eyes as I feel my orgasm building, the pressure behind my balls tightening, lifting. I think I’m panting. Or maybe that’s him…

He makes a small sound, and I open my eyes as I let go of his cock, stroking my own intently. His eyes are dark, his lids heavy. I stare at him as I come, my body jerking from the convulsions. He doesn’t break my stare, his pupils huge as he watches my orgasm. I cry out, the look on his face killing me. Fuck. Why don’t I do this all the time?

He’s still breathing heavily as I come down, my cum splattered between us, most of it dripping down his belly. Shit, I can feel the level of raunch ratcheting up in my body already. I’m usually pretty mellow right after I come, but right now I want to flip him over and fuck the shit out of him. It’s a good thing my cock isn’t hard enough to yet.

I step back, lowering my head between us. He moans quietly as I start to lick the cum off his body, his fingers tightening on the table. When I kiss him, he tries not to lean into it, not to respond too eagerly, but then he’s sweeping his tongue inside my mouth, his teeth biting my lower lip as I pull back. I kiss him again, my hands holding the back of his head as my chest presses into his. His hips lean forward from the table, his cock digging into me.

I tip him backwards, yanking his pants off before I climb onto the table on top of him. I hope it’s strong enough, but right now I don’t really care if it collapses under us. I know it’s uncomfortable for him to lie on his arms, the cuffs under his lower back. I let him adjust his hands, bending his elbows out to the side to ease the strain in his arms. I straddle him, laying my torso down on top of his, his cock pulsing under me. I rock my hips into him, letting the friction rub it between us. His eyes are open, watching me. I lean up, pressing my hips hard into him, seeing his lids flicker as I grind against him. He wants to come, but there’s no way I’m letting him. The moment he comes, this is all over. He barely tolerates this when he’s ragingly horny; he certainly won’t when he’s post-orgasmic.

I slide down him, clambering off the end of the table, leaving him lying there. I lift his legs before he has a chance to sit up, my arms under his knees as I press my face into him. He shakes a bit as I start to lick him, his leg muscles tensing in my arms.

I’m making little noises, telling him how much I love this, how good he tastes. I want everything, want to make him feel everything. I lap him eagerly, the sounds he’s making hardening my cock again. I have to slow down, have to find a way to make this last…

I lick my way up to his balls, taking one then the other into my mouth as he writhes. I push him farther up the table, his legs dangling over the edge. I plant his feet on the surface of the table, his knees bent. I look up as I start licking his cock, the sight of his arched back, his head angled back making me swoon as I grip his ankles with my hands.

I stop, leaning over him as we both catch our breath. His face is flushed, small patches of red dotting his chest. I want to eat him alive. Before he can orient himself fully, I grab his shoulders, hooking my hands behind his arms and pulling him up. He sits up on the table, relief on his face as his arms stretch back out behind him. His shoulders are going to ache later, but I’ll rub them for him. He knows I’ll make up for it when it’s over. I have a feeling I’ll be making up for it a lot this time.

I pull him towards me more, bringing him back to the edge of the table and pulling him to a standing position. He’s watching me, not saying anything. I step closer, my hands holding his face as I kiss him, my lips soft, gentle. I need him to stay compliant, to make sure I don’t push him too far. It’s a delicate dance and I’ve fucked it up before. Not that it turns out badly, it just means I end up as the bottom again, my ass blistered for trying to top him and not succeeding. And that’s not all bad…

I pull him gently, walking backwards towards the bedroom. I want him comfortable, I don’t want his body distracted by anything other than what I’m doing to him.

He lets me steer him into the bedroom, so I step up onto the bed, smiling at him. He doesn’t follow. I pull in a slow, deep breath.

“Brian. Come here.” I say quietly.

He snickers softly. He’s staring at me. I step back closer to him, but I don’t touch him. I run my fingers over my chest, blinking slowly as I look at him.

“You don’t have to, Brian…” I whisper, looking down as I watch my hand slide to my hip. I look back up at him, his eyes on my hand. I shiver as my fingers trail lightly over my cock.

I step a bit closer, his breath almost discernible on my face, our cocks almost touching.

“But I can come without your help, Brian.” I smile slowly as my hand jacks my dick.

…………………..