Epilogue
“What are they doing?”
I turn to Ben with a shrug. “I’m not really sure.”
“Be quiet,” Parker hisses.
Other than randomly telling us to be quiet, they’ve barely spoken since we walked in the front door and they directed us to strip down and lie on the tarp in the middle of our living room floor.
I didn’t ask questions. I wanted to. Hell, even now I want to, but I’ve been told to hush too many times.
“Are you worried?” I ask softly, trying to keep my voice low to avoid Parker’s wrath.
Doesn’t work.
“I said stop. Talking.”
Ben sighs, smiling at me with a small eye roll.
Park leaves, then after a few minutes comes back into the room, arms loaded with paint.
I raise my eyebrows. Well, at least that explains the strange focus. They always get like this when they’re painting. Usually, Ben and I are just… watching. Not naked on a tarp on the floor.
“For a second, I was worried you were going to murder us, and that’s why you wanted us on the tarp,” Ben says, a smile in his voice.
Parker blows a strand of their purple bangs out of their face. “No. No murder today. I’m going to paint you.”
I glance around, trying to see if they’ve got a canvas somewhere I’m missing. Typically Parker paints abstract, and if they’re doing realism, they sketch, not paint.
Dropping to their knees beside us, Parker tosses all the paint tubes onto the floor, then after glancing between their options, picks up a shade of purple that matches the darker piece in their hair.
They squeeze some into their palm, then lean forward. I gasp when a shock of cold paint hits my upper arm. “Holy hell, that’s cold.”
“Shh,” Parker warns.
Well, jeez, alright then.
I shiver when Parker trails the paint over my arm toward my chest, then down to my nipple, circling around it and covering my skin.
Knee-walking across the tarp, they do the same with Ben.
Unlike me, he doesn’t gasp, but he keeps his gaze intensely focused on mine as Parker gives him a matching paint streak.
Sitting back on their heels, Parker nods. “Yes. Perfect.” They toss that bottle of paint to the side and pick up another before adding a lighter purple streak along the one on Ben’s body.
I watch, completely entranced, as they dip their fingers into the hollow of Ben’s throat, then use their fingertips to drag the paint down his chest.
My cock twitches. Fucking hell, why is this turning me on?
Parker admires their work, then comes to me and does the same. They sit back again, looking between the two of us with assessing eyes.
“Yes,” they murmur. “Okay. Now kiss.”
“Kiss?” Ben asks.
Parker sighs. “Yes. Kiss. Do it.”
Hell yeah. I tilt my head forward, sealing my lips over Ben’s.
I’ve found over the last year that he enjoys when I take on a more active role.
When he gets to give in a little. It’s a fun game we play.
And Parker sure as fuck likes to hear about it afterward.
So I tangle my fingers in his hair, jerking his head back roughly, and bite his lower lip before pushing into his mouth with my tongue.
He groans instantly, his body going lax. Fuck, that is so hot. Will never stop being hot.
I gasp against his lips when Parker’s hand lands on my lower back, spreading more paint up my spine to just below my nape. Pulling away from Ben, I try to glance back at them.
“I didn’t say to stop.”
Well, shit.
I turn to Ben again, pressing my lips to his. He moans, nipping my lower lip. “This is so strange,” he mumbles against my mouth. “Fucking hot, though, right?”
I moan my agreement, twitching as Parker adds more paint to my body. This time, my thighs. They shuffle around, and when Ben stiffens slightly before relaxing again, I figure Parker is doing the same to him that they did to me.
A warm hand closes around my cock. I’d know Parker’s touch anywhere. I groan against Ben’s mouth, and when he answers with his own and a slight hitch in his breathing, I know Parker is doing the same to him.
The hand disappears, and I nearly whine. “Press together,” Parker mumbles. “Rut against each other.”
Ben breaks, hooking an arm around my paint-covered waist, and pulls me to him.
“Pin him to the floor, Lan.”
I listen instantly, rolling Ben onto his back and climbing over him.
He grips my ass, his fingers sliding over the paint. Is there a handprint there now? Proof of the way he touches me? I groan, rocking my hips down desperately, chasing the pleasure and the friction.
“Yes,” Parker sighs, and I shudder hard. “Just like that. So beautiful. Keep going. Put your fingers in his hair, Ben.”
Ben breaks away with a gasping inhale. “I have paint on my hands.”
“It’ll wash out,” Parker says softly, and I nod in full agreement.
Tangling his hands in my hair, Ben groans, dragging me back to him for another kiss.
“Art is like life,” Parker muses. “Messy and chaotic. But so fucking beautiful.”
Ben’s fingers tighten in my hair, and he grinds up into me, his cock sliding against mine.
“Purple,” Parker whispers, almost trancelike. “Purple for the way I feel when I wake up tangled between you. So close that I don’t know where you are and I’m not, only that we’re together.”
I groan into our kiss when Ben shudders under me, rolling his hips almost desperately.
“Pink.” Parker’s warm fingers trail down my spine, making me thrust harder against Ben. “For the way I watch you two melt into each other. Just like this.”
“Fuck,” Ben moans, fingers tugging hard on my hair. “Fuck, I’m so close.”
“Blue,” Parker says. “Pale sky blue.”
I grind harder against Ben, my cock leaking all over him. His fingers are flexing over and over in my hair, tugging and releasing with each sloppy swipe of his tongue and each roll of his hips.
“I’m gonna come,” I choke out, heat racing up and down my spine and settling low in my balls.
“Stop,” Parker says sternly. I freeze, body tense. Ben’s whimpering, his cock throbbing hard against mine. There’s so much pre-cum between us that it feels like lube, and I’m barely hanging on. I’m fighting with everything I have not to keep going. “Gold.”
Something cool touches my sides—more paint. Just a fingertip up each side, then Ben shivers as Parker does the same to him.
“I had it all wrong before,” they muse, almost to themself. “Keep going now.”
Oh, fuck. I roll my hips again. You’d think the cooldown would have taken me down a notch. It hasn’t. I’m still right on the edge. So fucking close to blowing that my balls are tightening and my muscles are coiled.
“Love isn’t red or pink. Not like I thought. Not at all.”
Ben makes a raspy, whiny sound against my lips, his breath coming in choppy pants. We’re barely even kissing anymore at this point.
“It’s purples and pinks spread across a blue sunlit sky.
And the sun, a brilliant gold, casting a hopeful glow on everything it touches.
You were right, Lan. I did get to try again.
Like this. With you two. And love is more beautiful than even I could have imagined.
More beautiful than a simple canvas could ever contain. ”
Ben’s fingers tighten in my hair, his body going taut as he arches into me. A loud cry tears from his throat, his voice breaking as his warm cum floods the space between us.
I’m done.
Burying my face against his throat, I groan into his skin, my dick pulsing over and over as I roll my hips, chasing every single second of pleasure I can.
“Fuck,” Ben mumbles, a shiver wracking his body. “What the fuck even was that?”
Parker chuckles. “A masterpiece. My colors. My love. This is what love looks like. What it feels like.”
I roll off Ben, staring up at Parker’s beautiful face. “To clarify,” I rasp out. “We’re the masterpiece?”
“Yes,” Parker says, a smile on their lips. “You are.”
I hook my arm around Parker’s ankle, pulling them down on top of me.
They’re wearing one of my shirts. It’s ruined—covered in paint.
And not even from today. Although it is sporting a few new colors.
Rolling them quickly onto their back, I pull the shirt up.
Just as I suspected, there’s nothing underneath.
Ben groans, squeezing his eyes closed for a second before looking at me.
I nod, and in a well-practiced dance, we lean over Parker.
I suck them to the back of my throat, and Ben latches onto their inner thigh.
Crying out, Parker slides their fingers into my hair, thrusting their hips up at the same time.
I nearly gag, but I force my throat to relax instead, moaning around their length and swallowing.
“Oh, I’m gonna come,” Parker breathes, laughing a little.
“So quick?” Ben teases as I double down, licking up and down and swallowing around their cock as I bob my head.
“I’d like to see—” Their voice cuts off on a low, broken moan. “I’d like to see you watch what I did and not be on a hair trigger.”
If I didn’t have a throat full of cock, I’d probably be smiling. I pull off, inhaling a deep breath, and Ben takes over. We take turns bobbing up and down on Parker’s dick as their moans pitch up.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. I’m gonna come. I can’t—I… I—”
Ben moans, his throat bobbing as he swallows the first bit of Parker’s cum. They groan when he pulls off, and I close my lips around the head just in time to catch the second shot of cum on my tongue.
My eyes nearly roll back as I take them to the root, swallowing another jet of cum. I release their cock with a wet pop, grinning when Ben swallows them right back down, moaning like he’s the one getting off.
“Fuck, it’s so hot when you switch like that,” Parker murmurs, cum-drunk.
I chuckle, running a finger over Parker’s hip bone as Ben sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“It’s so hot when you let us, Cotton Candy.”
They giggle. “I love you guys so much.”
My heart thumps hard, just like it always does when they say those words. “I love you too. Both of you.”
Ben hums. “I love you both too.”
We lie in silence until Parker sits up. “Can I take a photo?”
“A photo?” I ask.
Parker nods. “Yeah, of the two of you. You’re my most beautiful painting yet, and it would be a shame for me not to have a record of it.”
“I’m fine with it,” Ben says. “If Lan is, of course.”
“Fine with me, Lovebug.”
Parker stands, darting off. “Gotta wash my hands real quick,” they call out.
Ben rolls toward me. “This was fun.”
Grinning, I turn to face him. “It sure was, Sweetheart.”
He rolls his eyes, but his cheeks pink up. Turns out he’s got a bit of a soft spot for being called sweetheart. I use it sparingly because I’m nice like that.
Reaching out a hand, Ben cups my face. “I’m so thankful I have you.”
I lean into his touch. “And I’m so thankful to have you.”
“Oh my God, I leave for seven seconds and you all start getting mushy. Disgusting.”
The smile in their voice betrays their words. “Sure, Park. I know you hate it when we get sappy. And who just waxed poetic about colors and masterpieces?”
They gasp. “Okay, fine. That was me. But damn, I’m an artist. It’s part of my process. You wouldn’t understand.”
Maybe I don’t fully understand their process, and maybe I don’t always understand their colors. But I understand this. The three of us. My love for them and their love for me and each other. That I do understand, and truly, that’s all I really need.
THE END