I bit back a laugh at how rigid and awkward he looked. “No, honey. More natural. Wherever your arms feel mostcomfortable, and you don’t have to stare at the ceiling like you’re contemplating all of life’s secrets.”
Watching him shift around into what he thought was more comfortable was funnier than it should’ve been. He still looked out of place, like he was trying too hard to look relaxed.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Coming up beside him, I took one of his arms, pulling it away from his side and placing it on his stomach. The other one, I put above his head, his palm turned up to the ceiling. He looked up at me, staring into my eyes.
Eye contact with Crescent was always electrifying. It took hold of me, not wanting to let me go. I was stuck in whatever it was between us, whether it be a tether or a web of some sort. It was home. Honest to god, undeniably home. Crescent’s eyes were where I’d go when I needed time to decompress after nine years of absolute hell.
I started with his eyes, trailing my gaze down his nose, then over his lips, and down his neck. The ridge of his Adam’s apple enticed me, begging my tongue to taste it. I wanted to. I wanted to nip it with my teeth and suck it into my mouth, praising it with my groans of absolute pleasure. Instead, I walked backward, taking him in from afar.
Perfect.
Pencil in hand, I sketched the basic outline, filling the canvas with nothing but him and the couch he lay on. “You know, I’ve only painted us together in some sort of landscape. I haven’t painted just you, yet.”
“Yeah, I’m not really the sole focus of any of your paintings. I’d say your heart is, honestly.”
I ran over the bumpy texture, finishing the outline of the couch, moving onto the profile of his face. Art was made from beauty, creativity, and soul. Crescent was beautiful, and a part of my soul. He should be the sole focus. Heshould be the only focus. His essence deserved the spotlight in everything I did.
Once I got to the curve of his chin, dipping down to his neck, I paused. I looked back up to him on the couch, thinking about what could make this painting even better. “Can you take your shirt off?”
He raised an eyebrow, but shifted just enough to peel it off. I counted every dip, ridge, and hair on his stomach, despite only sketching.
“And your pants?”
That got a chuckle out of him. He raised his hips, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down. “Need my briefs off, too, while I’m at it?”
Wonderful idea. “Yeah, might as well. Just while you’re at it, you know.”
His eye roll was full of nothing but love. I was glued to his hands as they gripped the hem of his briefs, pulling them down his hips, then thighs, then legs. The coarse hair at the base of his cock had me in a chokehold, tempting me. I wanted to dive my nose into it, with him down my fucking throat.
Fuck.
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to focus like this. Pressing my palm against my hard-on, I tried to ignore it as I finished the outline.
It didn’t take long to mix the right colors, and soon, I made my first stroke with the paintbrush. I’d look up every now and then, trying to match what my eyes could see. Nothing could ever imitate the feeling of looking at him, my crescent moon, bare like this. He was everything I never knew I wanted. Everything I never knew I’d needed.
Crescent’s body left me in awe.
Crescent’s soul made mine weep in relief.
Painting it would be impossible, no matter if I had araging erection or not. Every few seconds, I’d get distracted by the dirty thoughts racing through my mind, making it difficult to keep my composure. My mouth was watering, my body craving his against mine. My skin tingled with the need to feel him.
A painting of this magnitude would realistically take hours to do, over multiple days. Realism was a tricky, fragile thing that took patience I didn’t think I had at the moment.
I got lost in him, and he seemed to be lost in me, too. We were staring again, speaking to each other, not through words but through searing hot glances laced with want. I looked at the painting, then back at him. It could wait. Crescent couldn’t.
Setting the paintbrush down, I walked over to him, lowering my head as I got closer. He tilted his head back, following me. “What’s up, baby?”
Throwing my leg over him, I straddled his lap, pulling a gasp out of him. “I can’t just stand there staring at you any longer. I need to feel you. You’re so goddamn fucking beautiful.” I rubbed my palms up from his stomach to his chest, soaking in the warmth he radiated.
“You think so?”
“I know so. From your forehead.” I placed a gentle kiss there. “To your nose.” A kiss there, too. “To your lips, and every other inch of you.” I captured his lips between mine, automatically taking a deep breath through my nose.
His hand cupped the back of my head, pressing me closer to him. I wasn’t going anywhere. How could I, when he was who I’d be leaving?
My tongue melded with his, dancing along to an unheard, unseen, unknown beat pounding beneath our rib cages. Our hearts told us where to go. I rocked my hips into him, groaning into his mouth at the pressure.
We broke apart, our foreheads pressing together. I heldeach side of his head between my hands, raising a bit. “You, Crescent Miller, are the most handsome, most gorgeous, most beautiful, sexiest, hottest man alive. You’re kind, with a fierce sense of compassion and justice. You have always been the kind of person who’d give the shirt off your back to someone who needed it. Your mind, your heart, and your soul are fucking magnificent. You used to not be able to cook. You don’t like beets, but you’d rather down an entire gallon of beet juice than drink Dr. Pepper or Coke. One of your eyebrows moves down more than the other when you’re concentrated. You were my first best friend, and you were my best friend first. But you are so much more than that, Cres. You’re everything and more.”
