16. Brandon
SIXTEEN
brANDON
Gabe was still asleep when Brandon got back from morning skate.
He was beautiful in Brandon’s bed, that dark red hair against Brandon’s navy sheets.
Gabe had one leg sticking out from the comforter, and Brandon got an eyeful of brand-new (to him) freckles.
He considered letting him sleep, but the time they had together was already short.
And if Brandon had proven anything to himself in the last couple months, it was that he was selfish.
He sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing a hand over Gabe’s shoulder. He’d brought pajamas this time but still ended up in one of Brandon’s shirts. “Hey, it’s time to get up.”
Gabe woke groggily, eyes confused as he scanned the room, then landed on Brandon. “Jeez, I slept so hard I forgot where I was.”
“You can keep sleeping.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
“Fuck. So you’ve already done your morning hockey thing? ”
“Yeah, skate is over. I brought breakfast back for you.”
“And coffee?”
“Yeah.” Brandon realized he still had his hand on Gabe’s shoulder and stood up to put some space between them. “I’ll let you get up and then you can come eat.”
“Thank you, Brandon,” he said. He got up and headed to the bathroom, and Brandon escaped to the kitchen. Every moment he was with Gabe felt heavy, but it wasn’t a new feeling. He’d always had to tamp down every romantic feeling he’d ever had. He could do it again.
Gabe still suffered from bed head when he came out of the bathroom, and Brandon wanted to pull him onto his lap and press his face to Gabe’s t-shirt.
Instead, he gave the spread on the kitchen table some Vanna White hands.
“I got two lattes, one regular, one oat, because I wasn’t sure what you wanted.
Breakfast sandwiches, one sausage, one bacon, because again, not sure what you wanted.
And then I got a muffin and a chocolate croissant because?—”
“You weren’t sure what I wanted. I’d be surprised, but in order to be surprised I’d have to ignore every considerate thing you’ve ever done for me, which is…
pretty much everything. I’ll do the oat, sausage, chocolate croissant.
Though I’d be willing to split the croissant and the muffin if you wanted. ”
Gabe sat at the kitchen table, and Brandon grabbed a butter knife to split the baked goods. He watched Gabe polish off the breakfast sandwich efficiently. He went at his baked goods more slowly.
“Last night, before we fell asleep, you said you might let me draw you.”
“Oh? Did I?”
“I can tell you remember. Can we do that today? I need to get some drawing time in for figure drawing. Did I tell you I’m supposed to spend six hours outside of class each week drawing? Unless you want to show me the sights and sounds of Des Moines.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about it. But I promised you’d be able to get homework done. Six hours a week, really?”
“That’s the expectation for every art class.”
“That’s brutal.”
Gabe shrugged. “Helps that I like it. I rarely hit six hours, though. I just bring enough work back each class for her to put a check mark next to my name.”
Gabe finished up his breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen table, something Brandon had never seen Skylar do, and he lived there. Gabe put his hands on his hips, still looking soft in sweats and Brandon’s t-shirt he didn’t change out of, and furrowed his brow as he appraised the apartment.
“If Skylar is in Minnesota or wherever, we can do this anywhere, right?”
“Yeah,” Brandon said, shooting a glance at the lock on the front door to confirm he latched the deadbolt. He’d need to close the curtains.
“I’m going to get my iPad. You get as naked as you can.”
Gabe disappeared into Brandon’s bedroom and came out with the iPad. Brandon hadn’t moved an inch.
“Does it help to tell you I’m an artist and I see naked bodies all the time? You’re an athlete. You’re always walking around naked in the locker room, right?”
“Not naked.”
“Okay, get locker-room naked, then. And then sit on the couch.”
Gabe closed the curtains and rearranged the coffee table and the armchair so he could sit in the chair and get a better view of the couch.
Slowly, Brandon pulled his shirt over his head, then slid his sweatpants down, taking his socks with them. He wasn’t sure if it was freezing in his apartment or if he was burning up.
Gabe artfully draped the couch blanket across the corner of the couch for a backdrop, and when he turned to Brandon, he had that same kind, welcoming smile that had been the reason Brandon came out to him. Even if Gabe didn’t want to kiss him, he was safe.
“I assume you want me on the blanket?”
“Yeah, any position you’re comfortable in. I’m going to do some warmup sketches before I have you settle into a longer pose, so no pressure to pick the perfect pose.”
Brandon looked at the couch, and in that moment he completely forgot how to sit on it. He spent hours on this thing every day, and he couldn’t remember what he did with his arms or his legs.
“Don’t overthink it. Just sit.”
He sat, one arm across the back of the couch like he was waiting for someone to come sit next to him. Was that weird? What did people usually do with their arms when they sat on a couch?
Gabe was already drawing, flicking his eyes up to Brandon, then back down to his screen.
“Am I doing this right?”
“You’re perfect. Try not to move.”
Brandon was sure he was moving, but he tried his best as Gabe rotated him through poses until he felt warmed up. He brought the iPad over to Brandon to let him see.
“This is beautiful,” Brandon said, swiping across the screen to move the canvas around, revealing all the brief sketches of him so far.
Brandon would never be surprised by how good Gabe’s work was, but he was always so happy to see it.
“How do you get all the angles right? These lines look so choppy but create such a smooth look.”
“Practice,” Gabe said, “and also style. The way Professor Kline is always talking about voice in your writing. The way I draw, which includes the way I see things, is a part of my self-expression.”
“You’re very good at it.”
“I live to be appreciated,” Gabe said, lightness in his voice. “For the longer pose, can you sit in the corner of the couch, both arms across the back, and just take up space?” Gabe returned to his drawing chair. “Is it comfortable to turn your knee out a bit? The left one? Yeah, just like that.”
“It’s comfortable.” It wasn’t actually comfortable, and it made it so his legs were spread, but he’d be able to hold the pose for a half hour. As a hockey player, he was no stranger to pushing through pain.
“Awesome.”
Brandon focused on his breathing and tried not to think about how Gabe’s eyes were raking over his skin.
For the quick sketches, Gabe had moved around enough to feel like he was just grabbing shapes and gestures.
His eyes hadn’t filled with the amount of scrutiny he had now as his eyes flicked up from his iPad, then down, then up.
He was having a bit of a hard time holding the iPad comfortably.
“Is that heavy?”
“It’s about as heavy as a sketchbook, I guess.”
“Is there a way that it could be easier for you? Could we find you a case or stand?”
“I know lots of folks use drawing boards you can just drop your iPad in, like the world’s most giant case. Gives you more surface area and leverage. Better ergonomics. ”
“Cool. Find one you like and send me the link.”
Gabe sighed. “Thank you.”
“You’d let me know, right? If I was making you uncomfortable with this?”
Gabe looked up, setting his iPad in his lap. “I would. I promise. I know now that this is just how you care about other people. And I’m lucky you care about me.”
“I’m glad it feels like care. That’s how I intend it.” Brandon let out a breath, acclimating to the sensation of being looked at the way Gabe was looking at him.
Brandon zoned out for a while, his mind on his family and how he wouldn’t get to see them over Christmas. He thought about his first stint up in Minnesota and how he was bummed it was over, but grateful he’d made a good impression. If he had a journal, those were the thoughts he’d put into it.
When he focused back on Gabe, his eyes were roaming over his inner thighs and his underwear.
By this point, he knew all of Gabe’s naughty drawings by heart, and he knew that there was no way Gabe was having innocent thoughts.
When his eyes flicked up to meet Brandon’s, they were hooded with lust, his tongue flicking over his lips.
Brandon felt himself getting hard. If he had any control over his body, he would have done something—anything—to prevent it.
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to move and ruin Gabe’s drawing, but he also wanted to die a quick and mortified death.
It was suddenly way too hot in his apartment, even though he was nearly naked.
He chanced a glance down, and the way his erection was pushing against the fabric of his underwear was unmistakable.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. He was in a brand-new situation, and the comfort he’d been building up for the last forty minutes had vaporized .
“For what? You know what I like to draw.” Gabe’s voice was appreciative, and his eyes kept lingering on the bulge in Brandon’s underwear. “Unless—I’m sorry if I’m being a fucking creep right now.”
“You’re not. I just…this is all new. And I’m a fan of all your art, but especially a certain variety of your art.”
“My favorite patron. Would you…please say no to this if it’s crossing a line, but if you wanted to take your underwear off…”
Brandon hesitated. He wanted to. He wanted to.
“No pressure.”
“I’m going to,” Brandon declared, taking a breath as he hyped himself up. This wasn’t locker-room nudity, but it also wasn’t the kind of nudity you shared in the bedroom. Artistic nudity wasn’t something he’d ever considered before.