35. Epilogue
Shane
“Hold still.”
“I don’t like the dark,” Archer pretend to complain as I tied the blindfold over his eyes.
“It’s only for a minute. You’ll just have to trust me.” I went around to the front of Archer and took his hand.
He did his best to scowl at me, but I could see how excited he was trying not to be. He didn’t know what I’d been up to, but he knew I’d been up to something. It had been easier than I first thought to get his art studio space in my attic up and running. The previous owners had once thought about expanding their living space upstairs and had done some work already to prepare for the sheetrock.
Clayton had been dealt with, and business at the shop had picked up pretty steadily since I made it my mission to go from mostly-retired bar owner to social media manager for my hot, talented boyfriend, bringing an influx of customers. Ethan and Archer had also come to an agreement to let Archer hang paintings in the diner that people could buy. He’d already sold a handful, and he still claimed to not be finished the one he was working on for me. Maybe the new space would inspire him .
I led him up to the attic. Navigating the stairs was the tricky part, but we managed to go up with me following close behind to protect him if he stumbled. The space still smelled faintly of fresh paint, which was an improvement from the dusty odor that had previously filled the space.
I tugged him into the center of the room.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“No. I think I’d like to stand here in the dark for another ten minutes,” Archer snarked, but a smile curved his mouth and I wanted to kiss it. “Yes, can I please see now?”
I gently removed the blindfold and watched his expression as he opened his eyes. “What…”
I saw the moment he spotted the easel and the cupboard of art supplies. I’d practically bought out the entire store. I’d had a counter installed with storage below and above. I’d bought a comfortable-looking stool for him that came highly recommended and a chaise lounge for when he wanted to curl up and sketch.
“What the fuck?” Archer gaped at the space, slowly turning in a circle.
“It’s yours.” I pulled the second surprise out of my pocket. We hadn’t made it official yet, but he spent practically every night here, only staying over at his place once in a while when he stayed up too late working. And even then I tended to drive over and drag him home. I took his hand and dropped a keychain into it. There were keys to the house and the garage, even the shed out back.
Archer looked at them, then up at me. “Keys?”
“To my house. You basically live here already. I want you to live here for real. ”
“Keys. And a studio. Shane… I…” Archer threw his arms around me and buried his face in the curve of my neck. “I told you to stop giving me shit.”
“And I told you that I’d never stop doing my best to make you happy.”
He kissed my throat. The side of my neck. The little spot below my ear that made my knees want to give out and my back shiver.
“You make me happy without all this stuff, you know.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need any of it, but I love you for giving it to me.” Archer forced himself away from me and took a slow walk through the room. He ran his fingers over the countertop as he passed. He opened the cupboard and had a look at the supplies, brushing his fingers over the labels like he needed to touch everything to make sure it was real. He sat on the stool and slowly swiveled in a circle before stopping when he faced me again.
Archer looked at me and crooked his finger. “Come here.”
When I was close enough for him to reach me, he looped his fingers around my suspenders and yanked me closer to him. He stood, getting into my space. So much so that he had to tilt his head back to look at me.
“Have I told you lately that you’re everything to me? And that I really fucking love these suspenders?”
“Just the suspenders?” I quirked an eyebrow and he rose up on his toes to kiss me.
“And the man wearing them. I’ve been too nervous to give it to you, but your painting is done. We’ll go get it after.”
“After what?”
Archer slid the suspenders off my shoulders. “After. ”
He undid my suspenders from the front of my pants. Leaving them attached to the back, I let him position my hands, one by one, behind me so he could bind them there. It had become one of his favorite things to do when I wore them and, truthfully, I wore suspenders now just to see what new ways he’d find to use them.
I watched with hunger as Archer slid to his knees and tugged my zipper down. He stared up at me with his dazzling hazel eyes. The tilt of his lips told me how pleased he was to be in close proximity to my cock, which had gone from zero to three hundred in two-point-two seconds.
“Be a good boy and stay still for me.” He tugged my briefs down just enough to free my cock. His pretty pink tongue flicked out and he lapped at the head of my dick, cleaning off the precum that was already leaking for him.
I liked being Archer’s good boy. We weren’t kinky, not exactly. I liked a spanking now and then, and I didn’t mind some light bondage and dirty talk, but that was as far as we were comfortable going.
Archer was also comfortable going down to the fucking root of my dick, taking my length into his mouth in one talented move that had me nearly crumpling down on top of him as my legs quaked from the shock of it. Gentle, talented fingers toyed with my balls, cradled them as he sucked, hollowing his cheeks. Archer’s tongue swirled around the head of my cock as he jerked me with his other hand.
I wanted to sink my hands into his hair. I loved the way the strands felt between my fingers. How he looked devious and delightful on his knees with my cock buried in his throat. But he loved running the show and I loved letting him. I loved that no matter how many times we had sex, it always felt like each time got better than the last. I especially loved the way he never asked for me to fuck him and I’d finally stopped secretly waiting for him to ask me. Being with him, knowing he’d never want something from me that I wasn’t willing to give made me want to give him everything that I could.
His mouth was hot and skilled. The suspenders bit into my wrists as I tugged, wanting to be free so I could grip his head in my hands. Not to fuck his face, but so that I could anchor myself to him.
“Archer—”
Whatever I’d meant to say died on my lips when his fingers slid between my cheeks and probed my hole. Archer gently traced the outline of it before pressing inside me. Without lube, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing on the planet, but the bite of discomfort had a strange effect on me. I didn’t want to hurt, but I liked feeling him later. I liked knowing he’d been inside me. It was that thought that had my release lighting me up, pulling everything inside me until it was hot and tight and ready to explode.
“Fuck. Your mouth is a fucking miracle, Archer. Oh—God. Fuck.” I squeezed my eyes shut and sucked air into my lungs through clenched teeth. “Archer. I’m close. So close—”
He released his hold on my cock and balls and instead wrapped his arms around me, grabbing my ass and holding me still.
I saw white. And stars. And maybe my life flashing before my eyes as I shot down Archer’s throat. A life with him. One where we would grow old together, like the people in that movie we’d watched together at least a half a dozen times since the first time we’d watched it. I wanted that with him. Maybe not the restaurant and the crumbling building, though the cute alien-robot-things would be welcome.
I opened my eyes and blinked Archer into focus as he leaned back and wiped a stray drop of cum off his lip with his tongue. He smiled at me like it was the best flavor on the planet. He looked satisfied with himself. And happy.
I wanted to reach for him and kiss him until he understood that he was everything to me.
Archer rose to his feet and unbound my wrists. He even went so far as to redress me. Righting my suspenders and tucking my dick back into my pants before zipping them up carefully.
“Does that mean you’re moving in?”
Archer rolled his eyes. “I already live here. I’ve just been stubborn about it.”
“Were you going to tell me?” I laughed and reached for him, intending to return the favor, but he twisted away from my touch.
“I was going to tell you before Brodie gets here next week. Now, let’s go to The Anchor. I have a gift for you and then we can eat. I have a craving for one of Cyrus’s bacon double cheeseburgers.”
“I hope you pencil in some time between those two activities for me to properly thank you for the gift.”
“You might hate it.” Archer said, giving his studio one final glance before tearing himself away from it and leaving the room.
***
I didn’t hate it.
Not even a little.
Archer had done the same thing to me and had blindfolded me and led me into his room above the bar. He’d tormented me for a few minutes, straddling my lap and kissing me softly, asking if I would love him even if his painting was ugly.
It was the furthest thing from ugly that I’d ever seen. Archer had painted the bar. More specifically, me behind the bar downstairs. I was smiling and pouring a beer. Glass bottles of liquor sparkled behind me. He even painted my tattoos in vivid detail.
“He’s hotter than I am,” I told Archer, dragging him in close to me.
“You’re hotter in real life.” Archer circled his arms around my shoulders. “I didn’t know if you’d like a portrait of yourself. I almost didn’t paint it, but I couldn’t help myself. I started out with that one over there, but changed my mind.”
I glanced over to where another canvas leaned against the wall. “My tattoo.”
Archer had painted a huge version of it. Bigger than my whole torso, it was bright and colorful. A stunning rendition of my most beloved tattoo. “Archer, it’s incredible.”
“I was going to paint over it.”
“Don’t you dare. I want both paintings. Can I have both?” I almost couldn’t look away, but I dragged my attention back to Archer.
“You can have anything you want,” he told me.
“Anything?” Dipping my head down, I ghosted my lips against his.
“Anything,” Archer promised.
“Even forever?”
Archer answered me with a kiss.
“Forever,” he promised.