She waved him off, cracking open her laptop and disregarding his entire existence.
Ben let himself out of Lara’s house and practically jogged to his car. He had no idea what he wanted to paint or what color, but he was absolutely overcome with the desire to make his space his.
He drove to the paint store and spent far too long browsing the chips on the wall-mounted racks, finally settling on a rich and vibrant blue that looked like velvet in the paint can. Ben bought brushes, and trays, and a drop cloth, and everything else the associate told him he would need, then he drove home and stripped down, throwing on an old pair of basketball shorts and nothing else.
After twenty minutes of pacing between his living room and his bedroom, he decided the bedroom was the first to get painted. After all, the darkness of Thomas’s bedroom had been what inspired him in the first place. With a little effort, he pulled his bed and dresser away from the wall. He opened the window, wrapped the curtains around the curtain rod so they wouldn’t get messed up, and he set to work.
The painting was calming, soothing almost, as he laid intention into every roll of the brush up his wall.
This is me, he thought.
I am enough and I deserve the best.
Ben tried once and for all to clear any lingering doubts about the treatment from Cody and their short-lived relationship out of his mind, shifting his thoughts to Thomas and, for the first time ever, allowing himself to imagine what a future with him could look like. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be a step-dad, or if something like that even mattered when the kids of your partner were adults.
His thoughts went down valleys and up mountains, entertaining so many scenarios and ideas that he lost track of time. He’d just finished the last wall when a knock on his door startled him back into the present.
“Who is it?” he called out, finally seeing the room around him come together for the first time. It was like he’d been on autopilot the entire time he was painting, and he missed the way the color enveloped the room in warmth and safety.
“Me,” Thomas’s voice answered back.
“Shit.” He checked the clock on his nightstand. It was seven already, and Ben had no idea where his entire afternoon had gone.
With the roller in hand, he went to let Thomas in, accepting a sultry kiss that sent what blood was left in his head straight between his legs.
“I brought Thai,” Thomas said, stepping inside.
Ben closed the door and shook his head, still not quite back in the present. “I was painting.”
“I see that.” Thomas set the food down on the dining room table and undid the buttons on the cuffs of his pale pink dress shirt. “Did you need help?”
“I think I’m done.”
Thomas shrugged out of his shirt, laying it over the back of one of the chairs. His belt followed suit, then his socks, which he tucked into his shoes near the door.
“Do you want to show me?” Thomas asked.
“Sorry. Yes.” Ben smiled. “I just lost track of time and I know we agreed you’d come over, but I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
“It’s okay. Show me what you’ve done, and then we can eat.”
He tilted his head toward the hallway, and Thomas followed after him. The way the bedroom made him feel caught him unaware, and he stumbled, coming to a stop with a hand against a corner of dresser.
“It’s gorgeous.” Thomas came up behind him, resting his chin on Ben’s shoulder. “It feels very sexy.”
“It kind of does, doesn’t it?”
“We can check for sure later.”
Ben exhaled and leaned over to set the roller back in the tray. As he bent at the waist, Thomas grabbed him with firm hands and pressed his cock into Ben’s ass. He was hard already, and Ben couldn’t stop himself from groaning. He forced himself back into a standing position, twisting in Thomas’s grip so they were face to face.
“Hi,” he whispered, fingers pulling at the hem of Thomas’s white undershirt.
“Hi.” Thomas answered him with a smile. “What inspired the redecoration today?”
“Honestly, it was you.” Heat flooded his cheeks, his forehead, the tips of his ears.
“Me?”
