“Not right before we left. And they’ve been washed.”
“Yeah, but have they been burned?”
Lane rolled his eyes. “So jealous.”
“You would be too.”
“True.”
I walked over to the distressed-wood nightstand, where there was a collage of us—in high school, at graduation, and those times we were together with family over the years, when I’d tried to keep my distance but couldn’t.
It was there, where he’d slept every night, watching over him, and suddenly I wasn’t so jealous anymore. Lane had chosen me long before we’d admitted it to each other.
“Come here,” he said, and I followed him to his walk-in closet. He opened the door, and along the side were storage containers full of sketchbooks. He pulled out two boxes, and we dragged them to the bed, where we sat to open them.
I picked up a sketchbook and flipped through. Page after page after page of me, of our nights in the attic together, or in the backyard, or sitting on his bed. The day our parents got married, a quick sketch of me standing in the window. Book after book. All the times he’d drawn me were in there. There were other drawings, of course, but most were of me. “Holy shit. You kept them all?”
“Yes. Keep looking.”
I picked up another, and it was me at a park in Atlanta, standing in a bag at a sack race we did at a family reunion. And there was me and him at a picnic table, and me asleep on the couch as an adult. There were drawings of me in places we hadn’t been together, like in Washington Square.
“I understand if you’d like to file a restraining order now,” Lane said, but I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the drawings. “You’ve always been my favorite muse, even when months would go by and we wouldn’t see each other. Even when we were a thousand miles apart. One would think I should have accepted what that meant before the day you kissed me.”
My hand trembled. I would never get enough of him.
I couldn’t find words, so instead, I set the books into the containers on the floor, reached out, cupped his face, and tugged him forward until our mouths met. Lane’s lips moved against mine, our tongues dipping in, tasting each other.
Lane leaned backward, and I followed, until he was lying down with me on top of him, the two of us rutting together as we kissed and sucked and savored.
I sat up and straddled him, Lane lifting his torso just enough that I could tug his shirt off. I removed mine next, before taking his mouth again, working his jeans open as I did. The second I slipped my hand beneath his underwear and wrapped it around his cock, Lane arched forward, groaned into my mouth. He was hot against my palm, a steel rod covered in soft skin.
I jacked him while kissing him, and then he was shoving his hands between us to open my pants as well.
I pushed onto my knees, tugged his remaining clothes down with eager hands. Lane chuckled but worked with the same clumsy speed to try and get me naked.
When we both were, we lay down on our sides, facing each other. Lane hooked his top leg over my hip, his body feverish with want. We were close, his breath against my face, before I kissed him, the two of us moving against each other. “So, no restraining order?” I teased while my mouth journeyed down his neck.
“What do you want?” Lane asked.
“You.”
“Already have me.”
“Then I want to fuck you. Want to paint the inside of your body with my cum, before you jerk off on me and paint my skin with yours.”
“Jesus, Isaac. Yes. Fuck yes.” Lane rolled over. He opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. He was so fucking beautiful, all wide eyes and wavy dark-blond hair. I curled a lock behind his ear. I loved it long, and he’d been letting it grow, sometimes tying it into a knot at the back of his head. It just about reached his shoulders now. “Do you want me to ride your cock?”
My eyes rolled back, tremors cascading through me at the thought. “There will never be a time I’ll say no to that question.”
Lane gave me the bottle, and I slicked up my fingers. He hooked his leg over me again, taking possession of my mouth as I wrapped my arm around him and teased his hole. His body vibrated with needy energy as I circled his rim, then pushed a finger inside. As always, his body hugged me just right, sucked my finger in as I used it to fuck him, before moving on and doing the same with two.
“God, I love feeling you inside me, against me. Doesn’t even matter how you’re touching me or what you’re touching me with as long as I get to feel you.” Lane rutted against my hip, making my dick leak and my balls throb with need.