Chapter 5
Sevastyan
Victor glances down at my foot, still a flushed mess. “So… you’ll let me go? ‘Cause you have… blackmail material?”
It takes my oversexed mind several seconds to realize what he means, and when it happens I just shake my head.
Can he not see himself in the mirror? Skin scattered with freckles like pigment sprayed over canvas.
Long hair that’s fine as silk, even if frizzy.
Eyes shining with utter abandon, and wet, swollen lips.
He’s like the male Lizzie Siddal, and he will be my muse.
He’d make the perfect allegory of lust, and oh, I can’t remember when I was last this inspired!
“Do you mean the pictures I took of you? I would never show them to anyone. They’re mine,” I say curtly and move my bare foot farther between his spread thighs, toward the pulsing heat of his cock and balls.
He acts all nervous, stutters a lot, but I’ve seen his notebook. He’s a kinky little freak.
He got hard from my taunts.
He is still hard, and I won’t be discussing anything as silly as letting him go .
This beautiful gay man, who is also a talented artist who likes being face-fucked is exactly what I need to light up my lone existence.
I’ve been on my own for far too long. I can see that by how voracious he makes me.
“Oh,” Victor chokes out, staring at my foot.
Does he have any idea how adorable I find him?
And his eyes, like a green mirror where I see myself in the most embellished detail.
He literally told me part of his silly plan to break in was because he couldn’t believe anyone could look that good.
This whole lost exhibition business might be a thorn in his side, but he’ll get over it once he gorges on me.
Still, he was pretty naughty last night, when he pointed a gun at me.
“Why do you sketch with a green pencil? Why not sepia or graphite?” I ask and reach into a box where I left his phone last night, after unsuccessfully attempting to log in.
He stares up at me, then at my foot, then back up again. Oh, he is so deliciously flustered. I can’t wait to keep him that way every day.
“I… um… It gives pictures this sickly sheen. I like that. But it’s also not black, so doesn’t dull things down.”
“What’s the goal in making the picture look sickly?” I ask and switch on his phone, touching his rigid cock with the very tip of my toe. Even that makes him twitch with need.
I smirk when he shifts a bit closer in the chair to press it against my sole. I’ve not been this entertained in a long time.
He groans and rolls his head from side to side, all that luscious orange hair flowing over his shoulders. “Oh God. Why does it matter to you?”
“I’m a fellow artist. Indulge me,” I tell him, tempted to lean in and lap sweat off his beautiful throat. “Also, give me your phone’s PIN number. ”
“What for?” Victor rolls his eyes. It seems he’s regaining his confidence. Maybe he needs a bit of a reminder that he’s a prisoner and will only live as long as I allow.
I move my foot back, until only my toes touch the edge of his seat. “Tell me.”
The indignant shock on his flushed face makes me snort. He’s so damn expressive.
“You know my hands are tied at the front, right? I could jerk off,” he says as though it’s supposed to be a threat. Also, does he assume I’d let him?
“Not if you want to keep them.” An empty threat, but he doesn’t need to know that. “PIN number.”
I’m loving the way he stills, attitude draining from his face. “Five-nine-seven-seven,” he grumbles, watching my foot as if it’s the only thing that can bring him solace.
Because it is, and I reward him by bringing it right where he wants it. Tension and relief battle on his angular features while I finally open his portfolio, looking for a folder that could tell me more about his inner world. And there it is, filled with hundreds of images.
I rest my foot against his cock as I browse the latest photos of his paintings.
His fingers feature in some of them, so I know they’re small, even intimate.
Some no bigger than postcards. They all feature the same shade of green, and most depict pale, sleeping people, some disfigured or staring blankly into space.
Dark flowers also feature as a recurring theme, wilted or fresh, in careful arrangements.
He’s young, there’s lots of room in his work for development or refinement, but he’s already quite the talent.
I bet his obsessive nature helps make his work cohesive.
I’m a little offended the only depictions of me are the rough sketches in the notebook. Not a single study of my paintings .
I’m distracted when the throbbing in his hot cock intensifies and he rocks a little against the sole of my foot.
“Those feel... depressive for someone as young and hot as you,” I whisper and give up on teasing him. I love how his shaft pulses against my skin, and I want to smell his cum.
“H-hot?” He stares back at me, eyes going wider, even the droopy one. He’s so… paintable. Not just another Instagram face with every blemish smoothed out. He’s got that ‘so ugly he’s pretty’ thing going on, and I can’t get enough.
I want him.
I grab the olive oil from the table and lean in, drizzling it over his cock and—yes—my foot as well. Greater sacrifices have been made in the name of pleasure, and I need to kick him right over the edge. “I’ve been on my own for years now, and you will be my companion.”
“Me?” he says in disbelief as if I haven’t made myself clear.
As soon as I roll my foot up his cock, he moans so deliciously, a shiver goes down my spine.
Sure, he wouldn’t make the cut as a runway model, but who’s hurt his self-esteem so badly he can’t see himself as the object of my desire?
As an artist, he should see the beauty in the shape of his nose, the irregular shadow on his eyelids, and the shape of his lips.
“You. We will have plenty of fun together, Victor,” I tell him and move my foot up and down a bit faster, prompting him to stir in the chair helplessly.
He’s one of the most intriguing people I’ve ever met.
I’m still noticing new things about him.
A few silver hairs in his eyebrows, a fleck of gold in the green of his eye, or how dark his lips become when he’s aroused.
An absolute marvel to look at. I’ll be turning him on at least once a day, even if only to enjoy the view .
“Oh God… fuck,” he whines, rocking his hips faster against my slippery foot.
“That’s right,” I say, grabbing my oatmeal, because I’m still hungry. “You get off against my foot. Do you like it when I step on your cock?” I press it to his stomach, but not hard enough to cause pain. Just to see what he does.
“I’m gonna come,” he moans out, brows drawn, eyes fluttering shut. The flush on his face is so deep it seems to swallow some of his freckles.
I can’t take my eyes off him and stop chewing, so entranced by the picture he makes I have to take a few more photos before he’s done.
His Adam’s apple bobs so beautifully in his long neck.
Ribbons of cum shoot out of his cock, staining his chest and my foot.
It’s so hot I don’t even mind. The scent of his arousal only whets my appetite.
“Good boy. I am thoroughly entertained,” I say, rubbing my foot against his slickened stomach and cock. I can see it’s too much at this point, since he’s twitching away, but that’s a detail. “There’s only one issue. You made me really dirty.”
He’s panting but gives me that scolded puppy stare.
“Oh. I’m s-sorry. I lost it a little.” I can see his gaze drifting from my face, down my body, and I realize how much I needed this.
Some might call me vain. I call it self-love, but I feel so much handsomer when I can see my reflection in a pair of beautiful eyes.
“No harm done. Just clean up after yourself.” An echo of arousal stirs deep inside as I lift my foot, offering it to his lips. Will he take the bait?
He hesitates, but then opens his mouth for me. I guess fate does have its ways sometimes, because he is fucking perfect. One would have to be a little coo-coo to stay here with me, so I don’t even mind that I’ll need to work on him. The mystery he presents only excites me more .
I sink my big toe into his mouth and smile as I watch him lick it clean then proceed to the other toes. I pride myself on excellent grooming, so he’ll have nothing to complain about in that department. If my life wasn’t so problematic, I’d be a catch.
“Tasty, isn’t it?” I rasp, somewhat jealous that he gets to taste himself before I can, but we’ll have plenty of time together to amend that. My toe wiggles between his lips, creating an obscene slurp.
His blushing face is so inspiring I want to rush through breakfast just so I can take him to my studio and paint him like this, all dishevelled.
I only now realize how long I’ve been in this house alone.
I’ve always been an introvert, so I thrived when sent to jobs requiring hours of waiting and observation, but I did like to entertain myself with endless conquests and the adoration in their eyes.
Victor doesn’t answer, slumped in the chair when I pull my foot away. That’s the one annoying thing about dealing with other people. I can’t always know or control what they’re thinking.
“What?” I ask, leaning forward to rest my hands on his knees as I attempt to peek into his pretty green eyes.
Ah, how I love the scent of fresh adrenaline-infused sweat on another man. How very tempting he is with lips plumped up from fucking and tears still drying on his cheeks…
“I just… It’s a lot to take in.”
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I lean in and press my lips to his in a moment so brief it feels like an illusion. Fuck, he’s so warm. A real warm body I can touch.
How have I lived without this for so many years?
“My cock? Pretty much, but you handled it like a champ,” I tell him and pat his cheek .
“I did?” Victor glances up at me, shivering again. Maybe I need to turn up the heat in the house. He doesn’t have much fat on him.
Fuck, the devotion in his eyes might just give me another erection...
“I think you deserve a reward. How about a house tour once we’re done eating?”