"Alright."
They hung up, and Othello made a few phone calls to get the ball rolling on getting the weapons out of the auction house. He needed to leave, but before that, he needed to talk with Des. Grabbing his robe, he shrugged it on, and putting his cellphone in his pocket, Othello went to see his lover. The closer he got to Des's studio, the more the scent of fresh paint hit him, along with smooth jazz playing in the background.
The door was open, and Othello saw Des naked, sitting on the stool, gently brushing the paintbrush on the canvas. Not far from him was a glass of whiskey on the small desk that fit neatly under the windowsill. It wasn't a big room, and most things were within easy reach. Othello mentally sighed.
Although he didn't drink much, he had nothing against people partaking in their vices, but he couldn't deny his worry about his lover. He'd noticed Des had been drinking excessively lately, which was a sign that something was bothering him.
When Othello questioned him, Des told him he was fine. Nothing was okay; something was eating Des up inside, and Othello knew he couldn't ignore it any longer. Quietly, he moved further into the room and stood next to Des, who was so engrossed in his work that he hadn't noticed he was there.
Othello looked at Des and was a bit taken aback by the serene expression on his face. His eyes glazed as if he had taken a drug, and a slight smile on his lips as if he was lost in a dream or a fantasy that he couldn't keep to himself. Othello moved his gaze from Des to the canvas that was starting to take the shape of a figure.
Des continued to paint, and instead of interrupting him, Othello walked toward the door, figuring he'd send him a text or call him later. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped when he noticed a familiar card sitting on the only table in the room. Moving over, he picked up the card, scowling when he saw Cassio Ricci's name and personal number.
He looked back at Des, who still hadn't known he was in the room. Glancing back to the card, he wondered when Des had talked with Cassio Ricci long enough to get his business card.
"Hey," Des said, getting his attention.
Othello turned to Des, who had stopped working and was looking at him.
"Hey, yourself," he said, putting the card in his robe pocket and walking to Des.
"What are you doing up?"
Kneeling between Des's open legs, he kissed Des's chest. "I woke up and found my lover missing." Grabbing him by his waist, Des wrapped his arms around his neck. "What are you working on?"
"Let's not talk about it." Des sighed. "Instead, I want us to do something more pleasurable with our mouths." He leaned down, brushing his lips against Othello's, who moaned, tasting Des andthe expensive whiskey on his tongue. He cupped the back of Des's head and kissed him deeply.
He trailed soft kisses down his body, pressing a tender kiss on the head of Des's cock before sucking the shaft down into his mouth, feeling it swell and pulsate on his tongue. Des groaned, dragging his nails along Othello's back.
Des grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head up and off his cock, then claimed his mouth in a rough kiss, taking what he wanted and needed from Othello. Des had grown more confident in his desires since their first time together. Othello tightened his arms around Des and pulled him down on top of him.
Their kiss grew more intense. A moan escaped his mouth when their cocks rubbed together. Reaching down, he circled a finger around Des's hole that was still wet and loose from their earlier lovemaking. Othello grabbed Des's waist and flipped them over. Breaking their kiss, he leaned back, staring at his gorgeous lover.
"Turn over," he said.
Smiling, Des got on his hands and knees. Othello grabbed and then smacked one of Des's ass cheeks, rubbing it and soothing the sting before doing the same to the other. Des whimpered as he did it once more. Othello wished he'd brought his leather belt.
"Othello," Des moaned. "Please, don't tease me."
Othello chuckled and kissed the base of his back, then the crack of his ass, moving down, swirling the tip of his tongue around the hole.
"Oh fuck," Des whimpered when he stuck his tongue inside, moving, bobbing his head, moving it in and out.
Des moaned and groaned his name, moving his hips, fucking himself on Othello's tongue. He grabbed Des's hips, steadying him, adding more of his tongue and saliva, wetting his hole. He grabbed and separated Des's buttcheeks, going as deep as he could. Des's body shook, and Othello knew his lover was close to cumming. Slowly, he removed his tongue and gazed at Des's moist hole. His handprints marking Des's ass cheeks made him grow even harder.
"Let's go to the bedroom," Othello said in a raspy voice.
"No," Des said, looking over his shoulder at him. "Take me here and now."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, I have lube in the drawer next to you." Des leaned up and kissed him.
Othello quirked a brow. "Were you hoping I'd fuck you in here?"
"Of course, one of my top fantasies." He smiled.
Othello chuckled and kissed him once more, pushing Des back down and rubbing his back as he reached into the desk, grabbing a lube packet and tearing it open, squeezing it on his cock and Des's hole. Othello jerked his erection a couple of times, positioning it to Des's entrance, and pushed the head inside his hot, tight heat, making them both moan. Pressing his hand on the small of Des's back, he pushed all the way in and waited for a spell for Des to adjust.
