Drawing Closer (17 page)

"You've convinced me," Charles replied, tipping Gray off his knee and onto the sofa. He took

Gray's hand and bit the tip of the middle finger, holding it between his teeth as he lapped at it.

Gray's moan was loud enough to have both of them freezing in place, their gazes lifting to the

ceiling.

"Oh, yes," Charles said grimly. "I'm convinced."

Gray sat up, shoving some cushions behind him and getting comfortable. "Fine with me. Just

don't use anything you mind getting chewed."

"Rudegar's blanket?"

The cat walked up and butted his head against Charles' knee, mewing at him. Charles stood,

scooped him up and went to the kitchen. "Hands to yourself," he threw back over his shoulder,

seeing Gray begin to unfasten the button on his jeans. "In fact, put them on your knees and keep

them there."

He didn't wait for Gray's response. After placating Rudegar with some food, he took a clean tea

towel out of a drawer; white cotton, strong enough for what he wanted, thin enough that when

he'd finished folding it lengthwise it wasn't too bulky.

Then he went back into the living room, closing the door on his cat, and walked slowly over to

where Gray sat, his back straight now, hands in place.

"Will you miss the sounds I make?" Gray asked as Charles sat down, the makeshift gag cool

against his fingers.

Charles ran one finger over Gray's lips, tracing the full pout of the lower one. "Very much. It's

why I haven't gagged you before. But you'll look--" He pictured what he was about to see and

shivered again. "God, you'll look good."

Drawing Closer - 108

"You'll have to take a picture." Gray licked his lips, breathing quickly. "Charles… before I can't say anything--"

"You want me to make it quick? Not tease you?"

"No. Well, yeah, and we shouldn’t be doing this, so doing it fast makes it better, right?"

"No. Just as reprehensible," Charles said, trying to smother a smile at Gray's logic. "Go on."

Gray's hands clenched where they lay and then relaxed again. "If I like this, will you do it again?"

"Yes, of course." Charles looked down at the tea towel and grimaced. "But I'll do it properly and buy a real gag."

"You don't have one from earlier? Another -- you know; someone else?"

"I wouldn't use it on you if I did. Think about where it would have been."

"Oh. Eww. Good point."

"And, no, I don't. I didn't -- there was no need. I don't own anything like that. Not now."

"You want to get some stuff ? Start a collection?"

"You're curious." It wasn't a guess; Gray's eyes were bright and he was flushed. Charles sighed.

"You don't need all that. Those toys. Not really. They can be useful, amusing, yes, but you don't

need--"

"I want to try."

"Well, of course you do." Charles let his head sink down onto Gray's shoulder. "Can we go back to when it was all so much simpler and we were just fucking?"

Gray lifted his shoulder carefully, dislodging Charles. "How long did that last? A few hours?

Charles, you know it wouldn't be enough for you."

"And yet I was managing."

"Not really," Gray said confidently. "And it's not enough for me. Not now."

"God, what did I do?" Charles muttered, half-serious.

Gray smiled at him. "Shut up and gag me, Doctor Frankenstein."

Drawing Closer - 109

Sometimes Gray was just a little too perceptive.

***

The towel, stained now with more than spit, he tossed into the trash, and the scattered cushions

he replaced, neatly fluffed, on the sofa.

Leaving the glasses they'd used in the sink, he went up to bed, pausing on the landing when he

saw that the light was on in Drew's room, but refusing to tap at the door. If Drew had felt

uncomfortable -- and they really hadn't made much noise -- he'd have said something. More likely

that he'd fallen asleep reading.

Either way, Charles was tired, his body loose and relaxed, his head buzzing a little from the

whiskey. The fall semester would begin in a week; he had booklists to prepare, student lists to go

through, and the perennial battle for the best lecture rooms and times to wage, but for now, he

was still, more or less, on vacation.

He intended to make the most of it.

And of Gray, while he still had him.

Once in bed, lying in the darkness and staring at nothing as the familiar shapes of the furniture

emerged from the gloom, he wondered how long that would be. He knew his limits and his range.

He'd never been more than an observer of the extremes of a lifestyle he'd once embraced and it'd

been easy to walk away from the ritual and the costumes. They weren't really his style.

It was the one on one connection, the power dynamic, and yes, to get down to basics, the

spankings, the bondage, the sex that followed, deeply satisfying instead of an itch scratched --

that he'd missed.

But Gray wanted more. He could see Gray -- ardent, curious, courageous in a way Charles had

never quite managed to be -- running on ahead, while he followed, lagging reluctantly behind.

Retracing his steps to a place he didn't want to go, haunted by far too many ghosts.

This was enough. Gray was more than enough; it just wasn't, he was sure of it, going to be

enough for Gray.

And neither was he.

Toys. Oh, he knew what that meant. Gray would go online, if he hadn't already, browsing, wide-

eyed and smiling, without a blush, credit card handy, and their bedrooms would be cluttered with

Drawing Closer - 110

cock rings and clamps, whips and cuffs. And he could see the appeal, of course, he could -- but--

"You wanted this," he muttered, punching his pillow softer because it felt as if it was filled with sand. "Didn't want what passes for normal. Saw what he'd give if you pushed him, just a little,

and got the surprise of your fucking life when he jumped all by himself."

And if he lost Gray, not because he was too kinky, but because he wasn't kinky enough -- well,

wouldn't that be ironic?

He fell asleep to dream of Gray naked and bound at a club, appreciative eyes watching him

writhe and beg and come. He thought Carl might have been the one whipping him; he knew he

was the one screaming.

Drawing Closer - 111

He could still feel the gag pressing against his lips and teeth. Lifting his hand to his mouth, Gray

fingered the slightly tender skin and smiled.

That hurt, too, just a bit. It wasn't Charles' fault; he'd tied the gag with a deftness that had left

Gray aware of how very much this wasn't new to one of them, at least, but Gray had tightened

the knot when Charles had asked if it felt okay, tightened it until he could bite down on the

folded cotton without worrying about the gag slipping. He didn't like half-measures and he'd

wanted to
know
…

He'd liked it. It'd been weird; he got off on talking during sex too much not to miss it, but in a

way it was because he missed it that having it out of reach turned him on so much. Charles hadn't

had the chance to do much to him; Gray had come fast and hard, his teeth digging into the gag,

come after he'd moaned when Charles licked his way around the head of Gray's cock and heard

nothing emerge but a stifled whimper.

He wanted that again, but with his hands bound, too, maybe blindfolded, maybe with his ears

plugged… He pictured Charles taking away every sense, one by one, until all that were left were

smell and touch and, bound as he'd be, touch would be whatever Charles did to him: a sighed

breath, a wet fingertip, a slap.

He couldn't imagine it with anyone but Charles. So much trust needed. Yeah. Do it with someone

like Carl and they'd goof off to watch the game and leave you hanging. Or hurt you.

Gray shuddered. It'd be a pretty vulnerable place to be. He wasn't sure he wanted it, not really.

Wasn't even sure Charles would agree to it.

But he was curious.

***

often; he'd learned that when his hand was shaking from fatigue and hunger he really didn't

produce anything worth looking at. Sometimes, though, you just had to work through that and

this was one of those times.

The canvas disappeared under paint, what he wanted to say rising to the surface, shouldering its

Drawing Closer - 112

way out impatiently, as if it had been waiting for a long time. He felt the joy, the intense

rightness of it, in a way he hadn't for a long time.

Some paintings were like that.

When he'd done all he could, he sighed and stepped away, working his cramped fingers

absentmindedly as he stared at it. Getting there. He'd get up early tomorrow and--

A knock at the door brought his head around and he panicked, grabbing for a dustsheet and

tossing it over the still-wet canvas. Not recommended, really not, but the thin material wasn't

touching anything and if it was Charles he really didn't want him seeing this.

Not Charles. Carl.

"Hey, man, what's up?" Carl bit down on the apple he was holding and grinned. "Safe to come in?

Guess so, as you're not naked."

"Charles isn't here." Gray gave his friend an irritated look before he remembered that, to be fair, Carl was the one entitled to be pissed. "Why are you?"

"Time to kill; thought I'd drop by." Carl wandered over to the easel. "Can I see?"

"No." Gray rolled his eyes, putting himself between Carl and the painting. "Like you'd even want to."

"I asked, didn't I?" Carl said reasonably. "Just showing an interest."

"In my
painting
?" Gray shook his head. "Whatever." He stretched as high as he could, feeling his back pop and click. "God, I'm going to spend an hour in the shower; I've been painting all day."

Carl threw himself down in the nearest chair, still biting chunks out his apple. "Yeah? Me, I've

been making sweet, sweet love to Debbie."

"All day? Going for a record?" Gray frowned, trying to remember. "Didn't she ditch you?"

"With my charm? I don't think so. I don't get dumped."

"I could quote examples if your memory's that shot," Gray offered. "Because you sure as hell do."

"Save it."

"For who? No one appreciates my humor the way you do."

Drawing Closer - 113

"Debbie doesn't, that's for sure."

Gray walked across the room, cuffing Carl's head lightly as he passed him. "You could do better

than someone with no sense of humor."

"Just because you're in love, we all have to be with our soul mates?"

"Very funny. See me laughing." Gray hesitated in the bathroom doorway. "And, yeah, I'd like you to find someone. Got a problem with that?"

Carl tossed the apple core at the trash can in the corner, overflowing with the soda cans Gray

kept meaning to recycle and crumpled paper sketches he'd discarded. He gave a satisfied smile as

it hit its target. "At my age? Yes. Go and get wet."

"Fine." Gray waved his hand. "Help yourself, like you needed permission. There's some beer in the fridge."

"You know, it's words like that that make me wish I was gay," Carl said seriously, standing up.

"Debbie would
never
say that. It'd be kinda nice to date someone with the same priorities I had."

"Yeah, but the sex would suck," Gray said. "Sex. Beer. Choose."

"That's just cruel," Carl said with feeling.

"That's life," Gray told him, heading for the hot water.

***

really were aching after being wrapped around a brush all day, but it was worth it.

Charles.

The painting.

All tangled and tied together in his head so that when he closed his eyes against the insistent beat

of the water, the wash of color, red and black behind his eyelids, became a backdrop for a fantasy

without much effort.

He'd done this so many times in the weeks when Charles had been teaching him in class; focusing

on images snatched and stolen in quick, careful glimpses. The reality was so much better. Oh,

God, so much.

Naked, Charles was lean, strong, with long arms and legs. Perfect, no. Put him against Carl and

Drawing Closer - 114

the difference between trained, built-up muscles and the reasonably fit body of a man in his

thirties would be apparent. Charles walked, sometimes went jogging, and ate vaguely healthy

food, offset by a fondness for whiskey. He had a flat stomach and hollows at his hips that Gray's

fingers and tongue found over and over, loving the smooth inward curve there.

He also had a soft padding of flesh that might, in time, become love handles, a scar from an

appendectomy, and slightly bony knees.

Gray didn't care. He cared that it didn't matter because it proved something to him, but that was

all. Charles was so fucking sexy it hurt. His
hands
-- oh, God, his hands. On him, touching him, hurting him so perfectly, so carefully --

Gray came with a voiceless cry he hoped the water washed away, his head full of sounds and

sights, one hand busy, the other braced against the shower wall. He watched his hand work his

cock, detached from that because what he was thinking about was turning him on more than what

his hand was doing.

That was familiar; what was in his mind, fantasies replaced by memories now, wasn't.