Chapter 16
Next morning, the sun chased the shadows away, licking into that silent room where Duncan was sleeping curled up against Spencer, his arm over his abs, and Spencer’s arm under his head.
Stirring, both of them, grappling for the other in that semi-sleep.
Turning on their sides, lacing their arms around the other.
Holding tight as they snuggled closer, drifting back into sleep.
“Coffee?”
Spencer blinked away at the shadow over him. Pushing himself up to sit against the headboard, he took that steaming mug from Duncan’s hand. “You could have woken me up…”
“No way. You were sleeping like a log.”
Noticing his wet hair as he sat down too. “What did you do?”
“Swam a few laps.” Sipping his coffee, that tired light in his eyes.
“A few?” Mocking.
“Ok… swimming is like walking to me, so a few, yes…”
Spencer kept quiet, remembering what Duncan had told him, but his demons had swallowed his tale whole, blending it into Spencer’s darkness.
He sipped at the coffee, pulling a small face. “I like it with a dash of rum.”
“Excuse me for not pouring a dash in your coffee as soon as your eyes are open.”
It had sparked anger before but Spencer just laughed softly at that mock outrage. Musing a bit, dead scared of his own words. “Do you think I could stop?”
“Do you think you can stop?”
“I asked first.”
“My opinion on this means fuck all. This is your decision.”
Spencer pursed his lips. “How convenient…” Looking at Duncan when he felt that soft grip on his arm.
“Not convenient. It would be, for you, to have somebody else decide, but this is yours, nobody else’s.”
“I might just try.”
Duncan didn’t say a word, scared that he would ruin this fragile moment, sipping his coffee.
Spencer took his phone, flicking some apps open. “We have to go back… My exhibit is tomorrow night. Fuck.” Sighing, he flung the phone on the covers. “Fuck this. I wish we could just live here, and not give a shit about the real world.”
“That’s something none of us can afford.”
Spencer smirked. “I could.” His amused eyes went to Duncan. “And you’re earning fine from what I know?”
“The fuck you know?”
“I’ve seen what Dad pays your company.”
“Wonderful…”
Spencer’s eyes got lost to the sky. “We could lead a decent life… away from all the shit…”
Duncan swallowed, pained. “That would mean we would have to live together.”
“That’s what I meant.”
Their eyes met, that dark, amused light in Spencer’s and Duncan’s flooded with caution.
Spencer mocked. “But I would understand if you didn’t want to live with me.”
“No… no, that’s not… It’s just sudden, ok?”
“It’s very simple though, Righteous… I f I said I wanted to move in with you in a remote little haven where we could rest our fucked up selves, would you move in with me?” Spencer’s eyes never left him. “Would you?”
Duncan laced his fingers around his mug. His heart hammering. “Many things have to be done for this to come true, and…”
“Answer me.” Smiling. “Please.”
Duncan blew a breath, that terror still lingering. “Yeah… Yeah, I would.”
Spencer smirked, toasting him. “Don’t forget your words.” Drinking a sip. “If we got married, and you died, would I get the flag?”
Duncan almost choked on his coffee. “What?” Looking at him in disbelief. “I mean, yes… I am a vet, so would be buried with all the honors, I guess. You would get that fucking flag, yes.”
Spencer laughed. “What a souvenir… Worthy of a marriage I think.”
Duncan smiled. “Let’s not talk marriage because the last time I did, it went down the drain, fast.”
Spencer’s eyes went to him. “I’m not your scumbag ex.”
“He’s not a…” Wondering why he was defending Trent. “Alright, ok, he is… I know you aren’t.”
“Hold on to that thought too… Time to get ready and leave… but not before we fuck in peace.”
He took Duncan’s mug out of his hands and put his next to it too on the nightstand.
Kneeling to face him, he pulled him up to sit, cupping his face.
Lush, lavish strokes of their tongue. Feeling how hesitant Duncan’s hands were.
Maybe tired, maybe on the verge of a breakdown in the light of his memories torn open.
Spencer leant on him and felt Duncan lean back, lie down as he pulled Spencer on him.
Kissing, wide, spreading his legs to let Spencer nestle between his thighs.
A small idea in Spencer, one that thrilled and terrified him a bit.
Pushing himself up on his elbows on Duncan’s chest, meeting his eyes.
“My turn?”
That surprised light flashed in Duncan’s eyes, his hands on Spencer’s hips. “If you want…”
Spencer grinned that fear away. “I knew you liked it both ways.”
“Fuck you…” It was soft though, void of hate.
“I will…”
Leaning down to kiss him, rocking his hips against him.
He reached for the bottle of lube in the drawer, and pumped a large amount on his hand and fingers.
Making a mess, he wiped the rest on the sheets.
Rubbing it on Duncan’s hole, on his own cock, trembling a bit with that mad lust, with what he was about to do.
Duncan just pulled his knees higher to make it easier for him.
Spencer just pushed in, making Duncan’s head go back in the pillow with a moan.
“Ah, fuck…”
Spencer grabbed his jaw to have his eyes, his hair floating around his face, his smile. “Ah a seasoned bottom like you shouldn’t whine.”
“It’s been a while…” But he adjusted to Spencer fast, knowing he was bullshitting him a bit. Maybe joking it off, that overwhelming feeling of having Spencer inside of him. Maybe to not let his tears spill.
That shine was in his eyes though, and Spencer just stroked his face softly as he started rocking his hips, pushing deeper. “Doesn’t matter… Feels good?”
“I’m amazed you know what to do…” Lacing his legs around Spencer’s waist.
“I know how to fuck an ass, don’t worry.” Winking, he sealed that puzzled mouth with a wide kiss, swallowing his moans, fucking him harder because he knew what he needed, what he wanted to do to him, the feeling still surreal, something he had never felt, to be inside of him.
Clinging to each other, Duncan’s mouth roaming Spencer’s neck and chest, latching on it, suckling hard as he moaned, floating on Spencer’s hard thrust. An insane strength in that lean body, something he could not even understand.
That mounting pleasure laced with his own pain.
His tears spilled out when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, chased up to some unknown heights, that burning, slicked up body rocking on top of him.
Spencer spread his fingers on his face, his cheeks, feeling his tears spill as he heaved under him. An insane power flaming up in his chest. That he could do this to him, bring him to the brink of sanity.
His soft hair brushing them, his soft voice, laced with that darkness. “Come…”
Duncan arched against him, whining, but Spencer pinned him down with his thighs and hips, holding his head tight as Duncan broke down crying. Sobbing.
Spencer just kept rocking him as he kissed his tears away. Coming inside of him too, deep, kissing that mouth drenched in salt, drinking his trembling breath. Heaving, both of them, Duncan’s arms tight around him.
Spencer just held him, burying him under his hair, kissing his neck, licking the sweat off.
Not even pulling out, he stayed on top of him, letting Duncan calm under him, stroke his soaked back softly.
Kissing, their eyes meeting when they came up for breath.
No words needed. Only their eyes, their touch, their chest rising against the other as their hearts picked up the same rhythm.
Deep, dark, rushing that thick, fiery blood around.
Fortunately, Spencer’s exhibition didn’t draw too much press, but enough to spread it all over social media, which in itself was a disaster.
Duncan just stood near the wall with the others spread around the room, watching influencers fan around Spencer, some reporters too, and his mother pushing into all the pictures, raving about her son’s talent.
Spencer was drunk enough not to care, and not drunk enough to make a scene, stoned just enough to have that mellow, mocking smile on, in his signature poison green silk blouse and tight leather pants with high-heeled boots up to the middle of his thighs.
A matching makeup of green and black, glitter gold on his eyelids and his black lipstick.
His smile, like a paintbrush stroke on that pale face.
Duncan was lost a bit in his sight, wondering when the insufferable twat brat had transformed into that stunning man, like a butterfly bursting an ugly chrysalid, fanning its colorful wings to the light.
Shit. Knowing that he was falling so hard he had never thought it would be possible, not ever since his heart had burst with that gunshot in that room reeking of piss, blood and death.
Catching his eyes, that imperceptible narrowing with that mocking curve of his lips.
Back to the crowd around him, holding a glass of champagne, his sharp nails laced on that gleaming crystal.
The guests roaming that cast white room, going from one painting to the other.
Duncan could only hope they would not recognize him on that painting Spencer had had put in a prime place.
A futile thought, catching the glances at him, the smiles and words exchanged he could not hear.
Fuck. Watching Spencer shake his head when somebody pointed at the painting.
Unsure what he said, arguing a bit with that nonchalant smile he had.
His eyes went back to the door when that Blakely woman arrived with his henchman, walking straight to Spencer.
Kissing him on the cheeks, her hand on his arm.
She tugged him away, laughing, walking to the paintings.
Duncan followed them with his eyes, boiling a bit, but his face stayed a mask, knowing Spencer probably would not let her fool him a second time.
They stopped in front of that painting of him, exchanging some words, laughter from her, a darkness on Spencer’s brow.
He sipped his champagne, but had left his arm laced with hers.
Duncan’s eyes drifted to Martina and Henry when they walked close.
“That painting is mighty popular.” Martina sipped her drink, her eyes not leaving Duncan.
Henry smiled. “I must say, I’m amazed how well you get on with Spencer now. It’s a blessing.”
Duncan masked his racing heart. “Thank you, sir, Ma’am… Uh… I don’t know much about paintings.”
Henry chuckled. “I don’t either, but it keeps Spencer busy. He doesn’t want to sell it tough, that painting of you, and he got some nice offers. Artists can be funny.”
Martina pulled a face. “He’s being sentimental. I’ll convince him, don’t worry. When you are lucky enough to make some money with art, you should not be sentimentally attached to your works… on top of it all one depicting an employee…” Looking at Duncan. “No offense, of course.”
“None taken, Ma’am.” He was a bit worried too that Spencer was being this stubborn, even if he liked that painting too, somehow, when sometimes he could barely look at himself in a mirror.
Henry patted his shoulder. “In any case, we’re grateful that you managed somehow to tame Spencer. I sure hope you’ll stay with us now?”
“I’d be happy to, sir.”
“Great, great… well, let’s mingle some more. I spot our friends over there…”
They left and Duncan blew a small breath, scanning the room for Spencer.
He had somehow ditched Olivia and snatched another glass of champagne of a gleaming tray, walking to him with that swaying gait he had in heels.
Close, but not close enough to touch. “Having fun? I see my parents found you?”
“I’m not sure you’re being careful enough.”
“Oh, the painting….?” He smirked. “I just refused a few thousand dollars. Olivia was very insistent on buying it.” Laughing softly.
Duncan’s eyes went wide. “What?” Taming his voice. “What the fuck?”
“Precisely. But I told her, just as I told others, that it’s not for sale.”
“You’re insane!” A bit panicked.
Spencer’s dark eyes went to him. “Oh, am I just? You don’t like it, Righteous? That painting.”
“I do, but… you could make good money.”
“Or…” Stepping closer. “Or… I could put it up above our fireplace… and look at you when you’re not home.”
Duncan’s heart raced. “We don’t have a home…”
“Not yet.” Winking. Searching his eyes. “And if we don’t, ever, then I’ll still have something to remember you by.”
“It’s a lot of money.”
“It’s my painting. I do whatever I want with it. Hell, I could set it on fire… a performance? Is that what’s it called?” Grinning, swaying a bit with the drinks he had consumed.
“Stop this bullshit.”
“And you stop yours. It’s my painting. It’s you on that painting, and I’m not selling you.” Blowing him a small kiss with his lips, one that went straight to Duncan’s heart, wedging itself in it like a tiny poisonous dart, he turned to walk to some other people waving at him.
Duncan sighed, that mad worry in him, that small fear that he had no control where this was all going.
Losing his heat and scent already torture, but he steeled himself, and laced his hands together, waiting.
Trying to ignore the people around him, the noise, and music.
Trying to ignore how watching Spencer made him feel.