“I don’t know,” Roland replied with complete honesty.
It had been a long time since Roland had made any art worth sharing. A long time since he'd had a gallery showing. The sunset series that Roland knew hung in Gabriel’s hallway was something he’d painted almost a decade ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed, and he no longer felt qualified to play the part of talented painter.
“Why not?” Donny asked, sitting down his container of rice and crawling across the chair to straddle Roland. Donny grazed his hands up Roland’s ribcage and over his biceps and shoulders to the back of his neck.
“I just…” Roland stopped, aware his entire body was tense.
“You were so sexy before, but I can’t stop looking at you now,” Donny leaned close and murmured into Roland’s ear, changing the subject. His fingers slid up and dragged across Roland’s jawline. “We can talk about it later.”
“Fine,” Roland grumbled.
“Fine,” Donny mocked, and he nipped his teeth at Roland’s ear.
Roland relaxed his shoulders and rolled his neck, giving Donny better access to the tender spots beneath his ear. He was growing to enjoy the way Donny touched him, the way Donny took what he wanted and gave Roland everything he needed. He felt a level of calmness when Donny was around he couldn’t explain, but again, tried to not over-analyze.
He still couldn’t paint, though. He’d mixed a new shade of paint, a peachy-pink that bordered on dark red. He mixed it until he'd had enough to cover a dozen canvases solid, then he stacked them beside the blue he’d re-mixed and saved. He didn’t go into the studio, because as long as he didn’t think about painting, he wouldn’t be tempted to break his two drink rule. Going to that lunch would be an immediate breach of the fences he’d set up in his mind.
Roland sighed and dropped his head back against the cushion of the lounge chair.
“I want to go with you,” he admitted. “Can it just wait a little longer?”
And that was true, he thought at least. He did want to go with Donny. He wanted to meet Donny’s sister and his friends. He wanted to exist without drinking a bottle of vodka a day too, but he couldn’t always have his way, now, could he?
“It’s every week. No rush,” Donny said. Roland groaned and lifted his head up to face Donny and smoothed his hair out of his face. Donny closed his eyes and smiled. “God, I love when you touch me.”
And Roland loved touching Donny. He'd been trying to do it more. His mind wandered as he stroked his fingertips across Donny’s temple, and he was pretty sure if he mixed some white with his new pink paint that it would be an exact match to the flush that heated Donny’s skin in the wake of his caress. Roland hoped that one day he would be able to make something with the colors he’d found in Donny, but as of this moment, he wasn’t holding out hope.
“I like touching you.” Roland dragged his fingers down the column of Donny’s throat. “Can I kiss you here?” He tapped his finger against Donny’s Adam’s apple.
“You can kiss me wherever you want,” Donny replied, tilting his neck back and opening himself up for Roland.
“Can I kiss you here?” Roland slid his hand between them and skating his palm across Donny’s cock. Donny groaned and thrust himself toward Roland’s hand.
“Anywhere,” he rasped, reaching behind him to brace himself on Roland’s knees.
Roland felt emboldened, and he laid Donny back onto the lounge chair and settled between his thighs. Donny’s cock was already hard, pressing at the fly of his jeans, and Roland slowly tugged down the zipper and reached inside.
“How are you so hard already?” Roland asked softly, leaning close so his breath ghosted over Donny’s flesh.
“It’s you,” Donny murmured. “You make me ache with it.”
Roland pulled Donny’s cock from his briefs and stroked it, twisting his wrist when he reached the tip. Donny inhaled and arched into Roland’s grip.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Roland whispered, and the truth of that was almost too heavy for him to shoulder. He didn’t mean physically. He was twice Donny’s size—of course he could hurt him physically, but he would never. He was terrified of fucking up with Donny the way he’d fucked up with Stewart, fucked up with Cody, fucked up with art, fucked up with life.
Donny propped himself up on his arms. “Roland,” he said, and Roland looked up at him, his mouth inches from Donny’s bobbing erection. “I decide what’s too much. Don’t forget that.”
Roland nodded and swiped his tongue across the head of Donny’s cock, licking up the precum that had collected there before sealing his lips around his shaft. Roland’s cock throbbed. He could taste Donny. The subtle flavor that slid off his tongue and down his throat, and Roland wanted it more than he’d ever wanted a drink of vodka.
He licked and sucked his way down Donny’s length, his mouth wet and sloppy as he swallowed everything Donny was giving him. He ran his hands up Donny’s chest, pushing his shirt up and watched the skin color under his fingertips. He groaned and the vibration caused Donny’s eyes to shoot open. That familiar, fiery blue reflected the pink and white of Donny’s skin.
Donny reached up and tangled his fingers through the ends of Roland’s hair and tugged his mouth down further. Roland’s lips met the base of Donny’s shaft and he inhaled, his nose buried in the small patch of hair that surrounded his cock. Roland pressed his tongue against Donny’s throbbing dick and sucked his way back to the tip and then repeated the motion.
“I’m going to come, Roland. Fuck,” Donny said through gritted teeth.
Roland nodded and sucked harder.
Donny tugged his hair so hard it felt like his scalp was on fire, and then he cried out and pressed himself deeper into Roland’s mouth. Donny coated his tongue with a stream of hot cum, and Roland gathered as much as he could before he swallowed it. He wanted more.
