Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
We had so many kinds of paints, pencils, and four packs of three different-sized canvases.
Going out had gotten easier now that I wasn’t completely terrified Jude was going to pop up randomly and harass us.
I still wouldn’t go alone, but I was hoping that, one day, I’d feel safe enough to handle an encounter myself.
The day I felt strong enough to handle an interaction with him in public, I’d be able to handle anything.
So, until then, Crescent or Sarah went with me.
Crescent had gone a bit overboard, spoiling me as much as he could afford to. It always felt odd, letting him spend his hard-earned money on me. He’d told me to think of it as payback for all the years I’d cooked for him or dealt with his annoying shit as kids.
I didn’t need to be paid back for any of that, but I could see it made him happy. Happy Crescent made me happy, so I didn’t mind.
We’d even bought hooks that stuck to the wall so we could hang my paintings up in our bedroom. There were finished and unfinished ones lining the base of the walls, proudly on display since Crescent refused to cover them up with each other. It would’ve saved space, though.
I set down the final bottle of paint, a gorgeous forest-green color that matched nicely with the other greens I had.
It was the last of the final batch to come out of our shopping bags, all of them now lined up neatly in a plastic organizer.
There was a shuffle behind me, catching my attention enough to make me turn around.
Crescent was stepping down the ladder, another hook placed squarely on the wall.
When he looked up, his hair fell against his shoulders, and the light cradled his jawline perfectly.
My eyes went straight to it, and to his skin, which was almost glowing before me.
I tilted my head, watching him roll his shoulders.
Squinting, I noticed the small blemishes on his cheeks, one of them a small cut from his razor.
I smiled to myself, getting lost in the way his eyebrows scrunched in concentration.
He’d been so much happier since seeing his new therapist, Mark.
The real change began when he started his meds, though.
He was sleeping better, and he wasn’t as tense.
.. I couldn't believe the difference, or that I’d never noticed how miserable he was before.
An idea came to mind, one that took precedence over any painting I’d planned to create. “Hey, sweetheart, is there anything in the world you wouldn’t do for me?”
He turned toward me, confusion deepening his brow lines. “Um, not really. Why?”
“I want to paint you.”
“Okay…” He said it slowly, drawing out the word. “You’ve painted me before.”
Shaking my head, I walked up to him, reaching out to push a piece of his hair behind his ear. “No, like, I want you to pose for me and I want to paint you like that.”
A red tint started on his upper cheekbones. “Oh. Wow. Yeah, okay, I could do that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean, it isn’t like it’d be difficult.”
“You’d have to stay still for a long time.”
“That’s fine. My new meds have been helping a lot, but I can just have my earbuds on standby.”
“Can we do it now?”
“Now?”
I nodded, the image of him lying there, baring his body and soul for me to put to canvas running through my mind. “Please?”
He looked down at his shirt, and then up at the hook he’d just placed on the wall. “Yeah, baby. We can do it now. Where do you want me to sit?”
My grin was wide and stretched, a giddy giggle rushing out of me. “Can you grab my easel and a tarp? I want to set up in the living room.”
“Fuck, you’re adorable.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Sure. I’ll help you set everything up.”
After moving the coffee table, laying the tarp down, setting up the easel and canvas, and moving all of my art supplies to the living room, I stood there, taking it all in. It was a nice change of scenery, really.
Everything was set up right in front of the couch. “Okay, can you lie down on the couch?”
Crescent walked over, lying straight on his back. His arms were stiff beside him, his eyes glued to the ceiling.
I bit back a laugh at how rigid and awkward he looked. “No, honey. More natural. Wherever your arms feel most comfortable, and you don’t have to stare at the ceiling like you’re contemplating all of life’s secrets.”
Watching him shift around into what he thought was more comfortable was funnier than it should’ve been. He still looked out of place, like he was trying too hard to look relaxed.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Coming up beside him, I took one of his arms, pulling it away from his side and placing it on his stomach. The other one, I put above his head, his palm turned up to the ceiling. He looked up at me, staring into my eyes.
Eye contact with Crescent was always electrifying.
It took hold of me, not wanting to let me go.
I was stuck in whatever it was between us, whether it be a tether or a web of some sort.
It was home. Honest to god, undeniably home.
Crescent’s eyes were where I’d go when I needed time to decompress after nine years of absolute hell.
I started with his eyes, trailing my gaze down his nose, then over his lips, and down his neck.
The ridge of his Adam’s apple enticed me, begging my tongue to taste it.
I wanted to. I wanted to nip it with my teeth and suck it into my mouth, praising it with my groans of absolute pleasure.
Instead, I walked backward, taking him in from afar.
Perfect.
Pencil in hand, I sketched the basic outline, filling the canvas with nothing but him and the couch he lay on. “You know, I’ve only painted us together in some sort of landscape. I haven’t painted just you, yet.”
“Yeah, I’m not really the sole focus of any of your paintings. I’d say your heart is, honestly.”
I ran over the bumpy texture, finishing the outline of the couch, moving onto the profile of his face.
Art was made from beauty, creativity, and soul.
Crescent was beautiful, and a part of my soul.
He should be the sole focus. He should be the only focus.
His essence deserved the spotlight in everything I did.
Once I got to the curve of his chin, dipping down to his neck, I paused. I looked back up to him on the couch, thinking about what could make this painting even better. “Can you take your shirt off?”
He raised an eyebrow, but shifted just enough to peel it off. I counted every dip, ridge, and hair on his stomach, despite only sketching.
“And your pants?”
That got a chuckle out of him. He raised his hips, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down. “Need my briefs off, too, while I’m at it?”
Wonderful idea. “Yeah, might as well. Just while you’re at it, you know.”
His eye roll was full of nothing but love.
I was glued to his hands as they gripped the hem of his briefs, pulling them down his hips, then thighs, then legs.
The coarse hair at the base of his cock had me in a chokehold, tempting me.
I wanted to dive my nose into it, with him down my fucking throat.
Fuck.
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to focus like this. Pressing my palm against my hard-on, I tried to ignore it as I finished the outline.
It didn’t take long to mix the right colors, and soon, I made my first stroke with the paintbrush.
I’d look up every now and then, trying to match what my eyes could see.
Nothing could ever imitate the feeling of looking at him, my crescent moon, bare like this.
He was everything I never knew I wanted. Everything I never knew I’d needed.
Crescent’s body left me in awe.
Crescent’s soul made mine weep in relief.
Painting it would be impossible, no matter if I had a raging erection or not.
Every few seconds, I’d get distracted by the dirty thoughts racing through my mind, making it difficult to keep my composure.
My mouth was watering, my body craving his against mine.
My skin tingled with the need to feel him.
A painting of this magnitude would realistically take hours to do, over multiple days. Realism was a tricky, fragile thing that took patience I didn’t think I had at the moment.
I got lost in him, and he seemed to be lost in me, too. We were staring again, speaking to each other, not through words but through searing hot glances laced with want. I looked at the painting, then back at him. It could wait. Crescent couldn’t.
Setting the paintbrush down, I walked over to him, lowering my head as I got closer. He tilted his head back, following me. “What’s up, baby?”
Throwing my leg over him, I straddled his lap, pulling a gasp out of him. “I can’t just stand there staring at you any longer. I need to feel you. You’re so goddamn fucking beautiful.” I rubbed my palms up from his stomach to his chest, soaking in the warmth he radiated.
“You think so?”
“I know so. From your forehead.” I placed a gentle kiss there. “To your nose.” A kiss there, too. “To your lips, and every other inch of you.” I captured his lips between mine, automatically taking a deep breath through my nose.
His hand cupped the back of my head, pressing me closer to him. I wasn’t going anywhere. How could I, when he was who I’d be leaving?
My tongue melded with his, dancing along to an unheard, unseen, unknown beat pounding beneath our rib cages. Our hearts told us where to go. I rocked my hips into him, groaning into his mouth at the pressure.