And Mason was the reason. He was the point of obsession, of fascination, of rapture. David could paint him, draw him, sculpt him, cross-stitch him onto decorative pillows forever and never get tired of it. He was absolutely, bone-deep certain of it. He swept fine lines of emerald and onyx across the canvas, blendingthem together, and in the back of his mind, he tried to think where they would have tucked his gold leaf. It was like he could see everything at once, because even as he stared at Mason, masturbating alone against the backdrop of Seattle through the window, and even as he laid down more paint, he caught sight of a label on one of his new storage units in the studio: METALLICS.
David rose in-between strokes of his brush, and that was when he noticed how absolutely iron-hard his dick was. He imagined Mason’s hand down there instead, Mason’s mouth, and a tiny, animal part of himself wanted to abandon the painting. Did heneedanother gestural nude to hang up in his condo that had literallyjustbeen redecorated?
Of course I do. He pulled out one square of gold leaf and brought it back, pressing it roughly against the arch of paint that was Mason’s hair, bringing it to vibrant, shimmering life, and his stomach tightened in the best way. He could do this, he could devote himself to this instead of simply trying to get his dick wet…because Mason wasn’t going anywhere. Mason was hands down the most solid guy David had ever been with.
He dotted on a nipple, making it a little more angular than it was in real life. When Mason shifted, rolling his shoulders back, David cut a line of red across the middle of the portrait, almost bisecting it. He thought for a second that it might be too ridiculous to add a spot of gold to the tip of the penis, but he did it anyway, and it worked. He grabbed a new brush and thinned out some more of the green paint, spraying it like jade stars across the entire canvas, and across his thighs and his belly and his face. He wasn’t sure if he was sweating or if he was just feeling paint running down his forehead. But the backdrop was the lights of the Emerald City. He had to get it just right.
It felt almost like an orgasm its own right when he scratched a final, filament-thin line of titanium white through the blacksweep of Mason’s ass, up his lower back, and out to the edge of the canvas. “Fuck me.” It was done. It was done, and it was perfect, and as he let his gaze drift to Mason…he adjusted his opinion. The painting was excellent.
Masonwas perfect. David walked up to him, sliding behind him and running his hands down Mason’s shoulders, across his chest, down toward his midsection. He grabbed Mason’s earlobe in his teeth and tugged, eliciting a moan that made David’s dick throb.
Then he whispered. “That was a request.”
Mason tilted his head back. His eyes were bleary, face crimson. “What was a request?”
“I finished. And I said ‘fuck me.’ I didn’t want you to think that was just an exclamation of relief.” He pressed his lips to Mason’s. “I want to break in the master bathroom and I want you to fuck me.” He grabbed Mason’s free hand and brought it back, sliding the fingers between his ass cheeks. “Right there, if you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Mason’s gaze slowly cleared and he turned around, still gripping his dick like a club. A smile crossed his face. “After the last three weeks? I can’t think of anything I want to do more.”
He latched his mouth onto David’s neck and sucked and bit and worked his tongue over the sensitive skin. David clawed into his back and his hips thrust forward of their own accord. “Jesus. Fuck. Mason. Jesus.”
Mason finally released him and grinned, his lips slick with spit and his face even redder than before. “Except that. I’ve been wanting to do that.”
“What, give me a hickey?”
Mason nodded, a gleam in his eyes now that he was fully aware again. “Since you still have time off. I wouldn’t send you to worklike that without your permission. But I wanted to leave my mark.”
“God that’s…hot.” David leaned in and kissed him again, running his fingers through Mason’s hair and feeling the slight dampness of sweat he must have built up while jerking off. “Let’s get in the shower and get this underway.”
Mason’s eyes flicked toward the back of the canvas still on the easel. “I don’t get to see the final piece?”
“That’ll be your reward for being a good boy and fucking me.”
Chapter forty-one
Mason
Inthebackofhis mind, Mason couldn’t help but catalog some of the fixtures and features of the master bath. A soaking tub with jets all around, an electric fireplace, two shower heads in the walk-in, a toilet with a built-in bidet.
That was just the back of his mind, though. The result of a lot of years of home renovation experience. The front of his mind was focused on a paint-smeared David, bending over to start the water for the bathtub and showing off his hole in the process. It was a nice hole. Inviting. Mason was obviously horned up and ready to go, but even if he’d been soft as limp asparagus, that view probably would have turned his mind to the same line of thinking without too much effort.
David got the water going, steam rising up from the tub, then strode to the shower with a smile. “Need to clean the paint off before we get cozy.” He stopped part way to the shower, turned,and walked over, then pressed his chest against Mason’s. Just for a second. Just long enough for some of the paint that hadn’t yet dried to transfer over to Mason. His smile only widened. “Whoops. Now I have to clean you up, too.”
Mason followed him to the shower—not like he actually took much convincing. It wasn’t long at all for the water to heat up, and then David stepped in to let the shower head and jets pelt at him.
Mason stepped in next to him, pulling David in close. He ran his hands up and down David’s back, then glided his fingers around to his chest and began scrubbing at the pain splotches.
David reached over for soap and lathered himself up. And Mason up, using slow, steady strokes up and down Mason’s chest, his abdomen, his crotch.
Mason raised an eyebrow as he swelled back to rock hard, as he had been in the studio. “I don’t think I got any paint down there.”
David shrugged, making tiny circles around Mason’s cock head with his fingertip. “Never hurts to be thorough.”
“It might hurt if you make me wait any longer.” Mason thrust his hips forward, humping against David’s hand. “You’re the one who begged me to fuck you, and now I feel like we’re burning daylight.”
David brought the soap up to Mason’s neck, filling Mason’s nose with the smell of mint and citrus. “One, there’s no daylight left to burn. It’s after eight o’clock. And two, I don’t recall begging. I recall…asking.”
Mason rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through David’s hair. It was silken and luxurious, and doubly so thanks to the flowing water. “Do we need to play back the footage?”
