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Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes
The room heated, burning up with late-night summer humidity, with fervent lust. Orion smelled of expensive cologne, of genuine leather, of long-barreled whiskey. He felt like a roaring engine, moving parts arumbling, agroaning. He felt good under Brendon’s body. Good and strong and hard.
He kissed the same way he did everything else: bluntly questioning, questing, searching for who-knew-what within Brendon. But here, the blankets soft underneath them, the room tightening, Brendon didn’t mind the exploration. Enjoyed it, even. Opened himself up to the hands that traveled paths across his back and under his shirt.
Shirts slipped away, falling off the edge of the bed into crumpled piles against the floor. Hard and wanting, Brendon scrubbed himself against Orion, rising up and bracing himself to either side of Orion’s head as he dragged their groins together and then watched breathlessly as Orion made short work of their buttons and zippers with hands that didn’t know how to fumble.
Pants out of the way, Orion wrapped both arms about Brendon’s lower back and then heaved, rolling them across the bed. There he pressed Brendon into the blankets, his kiss purposeful and deep, tongue sweeping through Brendon’s mouth in an experienced dance with Brendon’s own.
It became hard to breathe. Hard to think. Brendon shivered, yet sweat broke out on his neck. He clung to Orion, yet could feel his grip slipping. He wanted so badly, that pain in his groin fading, fading into something sweet and needy, yet he felt a tangle in the back of his mind. A tangle of confused pain where strings labeled “victim” and “murder” and “paintings” criss-crossed and knotted themselves in ways he couldn’t untangle.
He opened his eyes as Orion’s lips slipped away, down Brendon’s neck. And there, against the wall, smile so wide, eyes twinkling with an innocence that hadn’t truly existed, stared Casey.
Brendon’s breath hitched and his fingers dug harder into Orion’s back, their cocks sliding against one another deliciously even as Brendon tried to shake his head clear.
“You good with this?” asked Orion. Voice loud in the silence of the room. He nipped at Brendon’s earlobe, but in a carefully controlled manner, that seemed to be saying he had this, he had Brendon, that Brendon had nothing to worry about. “Good with more? If you have any condoms here. Otherwise, that gorgeous mouth of yours…” And he finished with a noise that was soft, yet incredibly expressive and made Brendon shudder.
Orion lifted his head with a quizzical raised brow. The grinding at their groins ceased abruptly.
“I just—give me a sec—”
Brendon pushed at Orion lightly and Orion went, rolling away as Brendon scooted to the end of the bed. He pulled his ankles free of his pants and then staggered over to where Casey’s painting hung. With an apologetic twinge, he pulled the painting off, turned it around and leaned it against the wall, brown paper and wire backing staring out toward the bed. Casey only staring at paint.
Behind him, Orion chuckled lightly. “Don’t want an audience?”
Brendon didn’t respond, but he did turn, taking in Orion’s body, from where his pants drooped off his heels, up to his fully erect cock pointing at the ceiling, to where he leaned back against his elbows on the blankets.
“I have condoms,” he said, answering Orion’s earlier question in lieu of his latest.
Next Chapter Coming November 24th