Duncan arched against him, whining, but Spencer pinned him down with his thighs and hips, holding his head tight as Duncan broke down crying. Sobbing.
Spencer just kept rocking him as he kissed his tears away. Coming inside of him too, deep, kissing that mouth drenchedin salt, drinking his trembling breath. Heaving, both of them, Duncan’s arms tight around him.
Spencer just held him, burying him under his hair, kissing his neck, licking the sweat off. Not even pulling out, he stayed on top of him, letting Duncan calm under him, stroke his soaked back softly. Kissing, their eyes meeting when they came up for breath. No words needed. Only their eyes, their touch, their chest rising against the other as their hearts picked up the same rhythm. Deep, dark, rushing that thick, fiery blood around.
Fortunately, Spencer’s exhibition didn’t draw too much press, but enough to spread it all over social media, which in itself was a disaster.
Duncan just stood near the wall with the others spread around the room, watching influencers fan around Spencer, some reporters too, and his mother pushing into all the pictures, raving about her son’s talent. Spencer was drunk enough not to care, and not drunk enough to make a scene, stoned just enough to have that mellow, mocking smile on, in his signature poison green silk blouse and tight leather pants with high-heeled boots up to the middle of his thighs. A matching makeup of green and black, glitter gold on his eyelids and his black lipstick. His smile, like a paintbrush stroke on that pale face. Duncan was lost a bit in his sight, wondering when the insufferable twat brat had transformed into that stunning man, like a butterfly bursting an ugly chrysalid, fanning its colorful wings to the light.Shit.Knowing that he was falling so hard he had never thought it would be possible, not ever since his heart had burst with that gunshot in that room reeking of piss, blood and death. Catchinghis eyes, that imperceptible narrowing with that mocking curve of his lips. Back to the crowd around him, holding a glass of champagne, his sharp nails laced on that gleaming crystal.
The guests roaming that cast white room, going from one painting to the other. Duncan could only hope they would not recognize him on that painting Spencer had had put in a prime place. A futile thought, catching the glances at him, the smiles and words exchanged he could not hear.Fuck.Watching Spencer shake his head when somebody pointed at the painting. Unsure what he said, arguing a bit with that nonchalant smile he had.
His eyes went back to the door when that Blakely woman arrived with his henchman, walking straight to Spencer. Kissing him on the cheeks, her hand on his arm. She tugged him away, laughing, walking to the paintings. Duncan followed them with his eyes, boiling a bit, but his face stayed a mask, knowing Spencer probably would not let her fool him a second time. They stopped in front of that painting of him, exchanging some words, laughter from her, a darkness on Spencer’s brow. He sipped his champagne, but had left his arm laced with hers.
Duncan’s eyes drifted to Martina and Henry when they walked close.
“That painting is mighty popular.” Martina sipped her drink, her eyes not leaving Duncan.
Henry smiled. “I must say, I’m amazed how well you get on with Spencer now. It’s a blessing.”
Duncan masked his racing heart. “Thank you, sir, Ma’am… Uh… I don’t know much about paintings.”
Henry chuckled. “I don’t either, but it keeps Spencer busy. He doesn’t want to sell it tough, that painting of you, and he got some nice offers. Artists can be funny.”
Martina pulled a face. “He’s being sentimental. I’ll convince him, don’t worry. When you are lucky enough to make somemoney with art, you should not be sentimentally attached to your works… on top of it all one depicting an employee…” Looking at Duncan. “No offense, of course.”
“None taken, Ma’am.” He was a bit worried too that Spencer was being this stubborn, even if he liked that painting too, somehow, when sometimes he could barely look at himself in a mirror.
Henry patted his shoulder. “In any case, we’re grateful that you managed somehow to tame Spencer. I sure hope you’ll stay with us now?”
“I’d be happy to, sir.”
“Great, great… well, let’s mingle some more. I spot our friends over there…”
They left and Duncan blew a small breath, scanning the room for Spencer.
He had somehow ditched Olivia and snatched another glass of champagne of a gleaming tray, walking to him with that swaying gait he had in heels.
Close, but not close enough to touch. “Having fun? I see my parents found you?”
“I’m not sure you’re being careful enough.”
“Oh, the painting….?” He smirked. “I just refused a few thousand dollars. Olivia was very insistent on buying it.” Laughing softly.
Duncan’s eyes went wide. “What?” Taming his voice. “What the fuck?”
“Precisely. But I told her, just as I told others, that it’s not for sale.”
“You’re insane!” A bit panicked.
Spencer’s dark eyes went to him. “Oh, am I just? You don’t like it, Righteous? That painting.”
“I do, but… you could make good money.”
“Or…” Stepping closer. “Or… I could put it up above our fireplace… and look at you when you’re not home.”
Duncan’s heart raced. “We don’t have a home…”
“Not yet.” Winking. Searching his eyes. “And if we don’t, ever, then I’ll still have something to remember you by.”
