It surprises a chuckle out of me. “Are you saying that my issues aren’t worth original monologues anymore? That’s insulting.”
Brady simply winks. “Have more original issues then. If not, I’m gonna have to take my talents on the road before I start getting out of practice.” He pushes to his feet before holding a hand out for me. “Come on. We promised Blakely a gazebo. We gotta get back to work.”
My reminder that I never promised her anything falls on deaf ears. It’s an exceedingly long afternoon.
~~~
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times, we are not qualified for this shit. But Brady gets us to a relative stopping point and turns me loose for the day so he can be free to debrief with Blakely. Or in more specific terms, have an in-depth discussion about the emotional cobwebs that got knocked loose today. I want absolutely no part in it, but that’s his process, so more power to him. I have something much better in mind.
Easton is lost in a kaleidoscope canvas. Neon blues, greens, and yellows. The reflection in the window reveals a smear of purple on the tip of his nose, and I fall in love all over again. His work has always had an element of wonder in it that is unique to him; it’s what pulls me in every single time. This one has that without a doubt, but it’s got a lot more depth than his typical creations. I don’t speak art well, much to my mother’s great disappointment when she found out she had a gay son, but it’s undeniable that the level of emotion in this rivals anything he’s ever done before.
I’m so amazed by him; it still knocks me on my ass sometimes.
There’s no telling how long I stand here, just watching him. It’s by far the most captivating sight I’ve seen in a long time. There’s something in the back of my mind that reminds me of the level of high alert he's been operating at lately. It’s a gift to be able to observe him without setting off his inner alarm bells. Even when he doesn’t see me, he knows he’s safe.
He spins around, searching for more yellow to refill the little well in his palette, and that’s when he spots me. My stomach swoops at the way he lights up. “Can I see it?” I ask, indicating his canvas. I could see about half of it leaning against the wall, but I want to see the whole thing
My Chaos scrunches his nose. “It’s not finished, so don’t be too harsh with me yet.”
I snort a laugh. “As if you’ve ever even doodled something that didn’t blow me away.”
His corn-silk hair flops to the side as he cocks his head to consider that. “Well, I guess that’s true.” When he steps to the side, the air in my lungs exits in a fastwhoosh. It’s dark. Moody, almost, which stands in stark contrast to the bright colors.
“Shit, Easton. This is incredible,” I breathe.
He leans against my shoulder, and I slide a hand across his back to latch on to his hip. For a while, we just stand side by side and take it in. “It’s still too early to call, but if it comes out like I’m hoping it will, this will be what I’m most proud of that I’ve done. Well, this one and the others I’ll do to match it.”
Suddenly the cryptic text my mom sent earlier makes more sense. I’m supposed to use a judgment call on when to tell him, though, and it’s probably too early. I don’t want to spook him into a slump. Instead, I tell him, “Six months ago, you wouldn’t have taken a risk on yourself and changed up your style like this. Now, you’re saying things like that. Maybe I’m not giving you enough credit, after all.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s been an unconventional process and strange circumstances, to say the least. But this has always been how I process, nothing has changed there. I lost it for a while, but now that it’s back. It helps me cope. I’m okay pushing myself like this with a canvas.”
I definitely haven’t been giving him the credit he deserves. If the roles were reversed, I’d be a permanent lump on the floor. All I want is him safe and happy, and while we still have danger lurking in the corner, he is making the best of the shit hand he got dealt. Proud is an understatement. When I tell him as much, he ducks his head into my neck, but I can feel him smiling.
Easton kisses the sensitive spot under jaw, prompting me to drop my head to the side to give him better access. He takes full advantage, nibbling and kissing his way to my lips where he gives a real shot at eating me alive.
Fuck me, he’s so perfect.
I indulge in the kiss, reveling in the slight chemical smell lingering on his skin from a day of painting. He feels like more himself than he’s ever been in my arms, right at this very moment, and I’m more in love than I’ve ever been. The rush makes me bolder than usual, desperate to share that feeling, I say, “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me what you want. Anything.”
Desire colors his cheeks and darkens his eyes. Watching his shy nature go to war with temptation is a glorious thing to witness. In the end, I’m thrilled when the winner is clear.
CHAPTER 21
EASTON
That look in his eyes borders on predatory, an animalistic hunger that makes it clear he’d devour me given the opportunity. Easiest decision I’ve ever made. He loves challenging me to own up to my wants, to vocalize them. It goes against everything I’ve ever learned; a childhood, a life with an abuser that took what he wanted without caring what it took from me.
Times have changed, though.
“Please suck my dick,” I whisper in a thick voice. It’s hard to think around all the desire clouding my brain, but Chase has always been able to get me to do the impossible. Everything is within reach if it brings me closer to him. Not even the moon is too far away.
He indulges my demand, but in the typical Chase fashion, I’m in for the long haul here. He presses his nose into the fabric of my underwear and inhales. I shiver and try not to blink so I don’t miss a second of the love of my life and man of my dreams on his knees for me.
Life can be so very grand.
Chase finally pulls me out, tucking the elastic behind my balls and giving himself full rein to wring as much pleasure outof me as possible. I exhale slowly through my mouth, trying to not start begging before he can even begin. The temptation is strong though.
A whimper falls from my lips as he licks a pearly drop of pre-come from my tip. “Chase.” Desperate to touch him, I lock a hand in his silky hair. I’m under no illusions that he’ll surrender control of this game he’s playing, but at least it’ll help keep my knees from buckling.
