I turn to Ben with a shrug. “I’m not really sure.”
“Be quiet,” Parker hisses.
Other than randomly telling us to be quiet, they’ve barely spoken since we walked in the front door and they directed us to strip down and lie on the tarp in the middle of our living room floor.
I didn’t ask questions. I wanted to. Hell, even now I want to, but I’ve been told to hush too many times.
“Are you worried?” I ask softly, trying to keep my voice low to avoid Parker’s wrath.
Doesn’t work.
“I said stop. Talking.”
Ben sighs, smiling at me with asmall eye roll.
Park leaves, then after a few minutes comes back into the room, arms loaded with paint.
I raise my eyebrows. Well, at least that explains the strange focus. They always get like this when they’re painting. Usually, Ben and I are just… watching. Not naked on a tarp on the floor.
“For a second, I was worried you were going to murder us, and that’s why you wanted us on the tarp,” Ben says, a smile in his voice.
Parker blows a strand of their purple bangs out of their face. “No. No murder today. I’m going to paint you.”
I glance around, trying to see if they’ve got a canvas somewhere I’m missing. Typically Parker paints abstract, and if they’re doing realism, they sketch, not paint.
Dropping to their knees beside us, Parker tosses all the paint tubes onto the floor, then after glancing between their options, picks up a shade of purple that matches the darker piece in their hair.
They squeeze some into their palm, then lean forward. I gasp when a shock of cold paint hits my upper arm. “Holy hell, that’s cold.”
“Shh,” Parker warns.
Well, jeez, alright then.
I shiver when Parker trails the paint over my arm toward my chest, then down to my nipple, circling around it and covering my skin. Knee-walking across the tarp, they do the same with Ben. Unlike me, he doesn’t gasp, but he keeps his gaze intensely focused on mine as Parker gives him a matching paint streak.
Sitting back on their heels, Parker nods. “Yes. Perfect.” They toss that bottle of paint to the side and pick up another before adding a lighter purple streak along the one on Ben’s body.
I watch, completely entranced, as they dip their fingers into the hollow of Ben’s throat, then use their fingertips to drag the paint down his chest.
My cock twitches. Fucking hell, why is this turning me on?
Parker admires their work, then comes to me and does the same. They sit back again, looking between the two of us with assessing eyes.
“Yes,” they murmur. “Okay. Now kiss.”
“Kiss?” Ben asks.
Parker sighs. “Yes. Kiss. Do it.”
Hell yeah. I tilt my head forward, sealing my lips over Ben’s. I’ve found over the last year that he enjoys when I take on a more active role. When he gets to give in a little. It’s a fun game we play. And Parker sure as fuck likes to hear about it afterward. So I tangle my fingers in his hair, jerking his head back roughly, and bite his lower lip before pushing into his mouth with my tongue.
He groans instantly, his body going lax. Fuck, that is so hot. Will never stop being hot.
I gasp against his lips when Parker’s hand lands on my lower back, spreading more paint up my spine to just below my nape. Pulling away from Ben, I try to glance back at them.
“I didn’t say to stop.”
Well, shit.
