Tatum’s eyes crack open, his smirk curling into his dimples like he’s got something wicked on his mind. “Hey, if you have to come, then just come.”
I grunt. “You know I’m not letting you out of here until you blow.”
“Then I guess we might be here all day.” His quirked brow issues a challenge I’m more than up for.
“Oh, we’re playing dirty now, are we?” I reach around and grip his shaft, stroking, while his abs—also lined with drying acrylic paint—contract.
Tatum grips the side of the mirror, moaning, but then chuckling. “You know it’s not gonna be that easy.”
I’m almost offended by how he’s acting like I’m new to this. And bythis, I mean getting him off, which only gives me more reason to remind him who the hell he’s fucking. Really, that’s probably what he wants, but damned if I don’t fall for it every time. It’s the fucking sadist in me that enjoys torturing him.
As his body rocks with mine, his ass gripping me firmly, I lean close, tucking my face against his neck. His cock throbs in my grasp. “Fuck, you really are too easy,” I tell him.
“Shut up.”
Although, the way he says it, all breathy, with his eyes sealed shut, I know he doesn’t really want that.
“You need to be fucked hard, but then something real sweet…”
Tatum’s not like me—the fuck-and-go type. He likes a little intimacy. The sort of stuff that makes me retch just thinking about it, but I’m willing to test my limits if it’ll prove I know his weakness. I nestle my nose against his neck, grazing my lips against his smooth skin.
“Isn’t this getting awfully close to kissing?” he asks, since he knows that’s not something I do with him. Not that I’m weird about kissing when I fuck, but he’s my buddy. I don’t know, somehow that feels weirder than having my cock in him.
“You gonna bitch about it? Yeah, that shut you up like a good, obedient boy.”
I open my mouth, taking a gentle bite of flesh, trailing my teeth up toward his ear. When his ass tightens even more, inthat way that lets me know right where he’s at, I speed up my movements, gripping his side as I hammer against that prostate.
His climax is familiar—all shivers as he calls out my name. I pull back, placing my hands against his shoulders as I pump to my own satisfaction, my orgasm tearing through me so powerfully that my muscles twitch as I shoot into the condom.
As I recover from the intensity of my release, I open my eyes, seeing a very proud bottom’s reflection watching me in the mirror, a broad-ass grin stretched across his face.
“Such a dork,” I tell him, thrusting a few more times.
“I’d say that’s a good way to start the year,” he jokes, pushing his ass back, fully taking my cock once more. “You sure you don’t want a kiss for how good you fucked me?”
“I want you to apologize for taking up so much time this morning.”
“I was just here to record you making the magic.” He motions to the finished piece on the tarp by the bay window of my apartment. It’s one of my abstracts, a purple, blue, and white ode to the fucked-up shit in my head earlier—and that’s best represented in the abstract because maybe it’ll be less frightening to people than what I’m really thinking and feeling, this side of me I can never show anyone. Not even my friend.
“Besides, it always turns me on recording you working,” he adds.
I’m not always horny, but today I really needed to rub one out—probably the stress from the start of the semester.
He walks over to the nightstand and grabs the joint we lit up while I was working. He takes a drag before asking, “How much you think we’ll get for this one?”
Tatum’s the one who convinced me to start recording my painting sessions, wearing next to nothing, since apparently it’s trending on TikTok. Then he uploads the videos and sellsthe paintings for me, gets a commission, and surprisingly, it’s turned into a decent business for us.
“We got five hundred for the last one,” I say. “Why don’t we go for six?”
“Eh, let’s go for eight.”
“Your twenty percent is making you ambitious.”
“I’ve always been ambitious, with money, followers, men… Do I need to show you my OnlyFans account again? Speaking of which…”
“Not happening.” I toss the condom in the trash can beside the tarp.
Tatum’s a hustling moneymaker, especially with his hot twink ass, and as fun as it sounds, it’s not my thing.
