46. Ouroboros #2
What if Lev forgot this moment? The loss would be insurmountable. His heart ached in anticipatory grief. Tears stung his eyes. If only love could vanquish the hazy fog of dementia crawling closer every day. If only it could break the curse of his bloodline.
“Only now. Only me.” Asher’s slick, velvety cock slid over Lev’s abs as he glided up Lev’s cock and kissed him.
“How do you always know?”
Asher raked his hand through Lev’s hair, scraping nails against his scalp. “Your art showed me your soul.”
Was Lev’s art really responsible for the strange way Asher read his mind? What if art really was as magic as Asher said? What if they’d built this bond and drew each other together? What if it wasn’t divine intervention? What if they could make their own magic?
“I love you,” Lev said.
“I love you too.”
Asher sat back, seating himself fully on Lev’s cock again.
“Only now,” Asher said.
“Only you,” Lev said.
Lev chanted the words like a spell inside his head as Asher’s paintbrush returned to the space over his heart.
Wind wuthered across the moor. The gentle clink of a paintbrush stem rested against the plate. Bristles swirled in paint .
Like a Salvador Dali painting, time liquified into something intangible, measured by brush strokes and sensation—creamy paint, Asher’s curled hand grazing his chest, bristles whispering against his skin, the tight heat enveloping his length, the occasional needy grunt as Asher adjusted his position.
Lev narrowed his attention down to only the path of Asher’s paintbrush. Asher painted smooth lines arcing inward. A pair of half circles? Two crescent moons?
How had Asher lasted so long without breaking? Lev wanted to look, to flip Asher onto his back and topple their paint palette and make love that made art on the coverlet.
Lev released a low exhale and squeezed Asher’s hips, holding him downward, lest Lev start fucking him on and off his cock.
“Ouch. Too tight,” Asher said.
Lev relaxed his hands. “Shit. Sorry.”
Asher laughed. “It’s okay. I like it when you leave your mark on me too.”
But Asher didn’t like pain. Ben had ruined that. Part of why Lev was so committed to learning to tattoo was to help Asher reclaim the pleasure he got from pain—not because he wanted to hurt him in other ways.
Maybe tattooing his art would also help Lev repair his wounds. He’d never wanted to hurt Silas, but carving his art on Asher was different, because he wanted to be the one to put his art on Asher’s body, even if it hurt him, and he knew how much Asher wanted that too.
The thought of it turned him on so much, some days he got an erection when he turned the tattoo machine on.
“Only now. Only me.” Asher rocked back and forth in Lev’s lap, shunting dopamine into Lev’s bloodstream.
“Sorry. Would it help if you knew I was fantasizing about tattooing on you?”
“A little, but that’s not only now, is it?” Asher stopped rocking after only a few tragic seconds .
“You’re so mean to me, Blakely.”
Asher scoffed. “You already got off.”
“It would be easier if I could look at you. I promise not to peek.”
“ Right. ”
“Did you roll your eyes?”
“Hush.” Asher’s paintbrush left him. A soft tink as he dropped it on the plate, then the swish of the bristles in paint. “I’m almost done.”
Lev sighed theatrically. “I prefer instant gratification.”
Delicate fine strokes kissed Lev’s skin before Asher replied. “Any guesses yet?”
“Yes actually.” The longer Asher had painted, the more sure he became. “An ouroboros.”
Asher’s brush paused.
“Close, but no.”
Lev groaned as Asher’s brush started up again. He clenched his abs, trying to stave off his desperation before he started begging.
Asher inhaled softly. His brush slowed. “Whatever it is you’re doing, stop.”
“You can’t actually feel me flexing inside you.” Lev’s lips curled into a smile. He reached sightlessly until he found Asher’s cock, and wrapped his hand around it, twisting as he stroked him.
“You’re cheating,” Asher said, sex seeping into his voice.
“All’s fair in love and art.”
Lev rubbed his fingers over Asher’s glans, and lifted them in the vague direction of Asher’s face. Like the good lad he was, Asher sucked them into his mouth and hummed, continuing to suck as he painted.
“You spoil me.” Lev tightened his hand around Asher’s cock, slowly increasing the pace.
The paintbrush clattered against the plate. Asher ripped his boxer briefs from Lev’s face .
“Hurry and look before I come all over it.”
“Don’t you dare.” Lev held Asher in place and looked down.
His vision blurred on vibrant raw sienna, goldenrod, and crimson before his eyes focused on hundreds of delicate feathers gracing a pair of phoenixes flying toward each other, long tails of plumage curling together to complete a circle.
A frisson of electricity lifted the hair all over Lev’s body. Pleasure and aching need burned through his bloodstream. Viewing Asher’s art while they were still connected, while playing his canvas, overwhelmed Lev’s senses and broke down all his defenses.
“This is… Ash, I don’t quite know what to say that won’t be woefully inadequate. This is the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen, and so much more impressive because you managed all of this while I was inside you, and doing my very best to distract you.”
Asher smiled as a dusty rose blush bloomed on his cheeks. “Really?”
“You mixed your own colors, didn’t you? That’s why they’re so much more striking.”
Asher shook his head slowly, smile growing to a rare grin. “Maybe it’s the canvas,” he teased.
“How are you such a magician with color?”
“Sorry. It’s a secret technique. That’s why I blindfolded you.”
Lev nodded, thumb stroking Asher’s hip.
“It’s a phoenix ouroboros,” Asher said. “Sort of. Instead of a single phoenix devouring its tail, I chose two meeting in the middle because we’re rising from the ashes together.”
Lev’s heart hurt in a good way, the kind of way that felt transformative, and whether Asher had intended to or not, his pair of phoenixes summarized precisely how starkly their relationship differed from the one he’d had with Silas.
Lev and Asher weren’t codependent. They both took care of each other. They were a team instead of a single entity .
“You’re a genius, Blakely. Do you know that?”
Asher snorted. “It’s just a play on a cliche.”
“What have I said about rejecting compliments?”
“I’m pretty sure you said you’d bend me over your lap and make me come over and over until I got dehydrated.”
“Are you sure I said that? You know how seriously I take your hydration and food consumption.” Lev peered down at the phoenixes again. “I’m so lucky.”
“I’m lucky too.” Asher arced down and kissed him, connecting them like the phoenix ouroboros that was theirs alone.
Asher reached for his sketchbook, the one he now openly left on his bedside table because Lev had earned his trust after months of good behavior. He wrote something on the page.
“What are you doing?”
“A new ritual.” Asher tore the sheet of paper out and passed the book and pen to him. “Write down what’s haunting you and fold it in half. We’re leaving the past behind us.”
“What did you write?”
Asher handed it to him. “It’s supposed to be a secret, but I know you won’t judge me.”
“You aren’t weak.”
Asher snatched the paper back. “I know that, but it still haunts me, and I want to leave that behind. I’m sure I’ll disagree with whatever you write too.”
If only you knew…
“But I’m not going to read yours,” Asher continued. “ I want you to be honest. This is our ritual and it won’t work if it’s bullshit.”
Lev tore a sheet of paper out and folded it in half, afraid to transfer an indent, and wrote:
He folded it in half again.
Asher held out his empty hand. “Give it to me.”
Lev opened his mouth but no sound came out.
“If you don’t trust me not to read it when I promised I wouldn’t, then you have no business saying you love me.”
“You can love someone you don’t trust,” Lev handed it over, “but I do trust you.”
Clutching both pieces of paper in one hand, Asher climbed off of Lev’s cock with a sexy grunt, and nearly fell off the bed. Lev lurched upward to catch him, but his knightly services weren’t required as Asher righted himself and hopped down from the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“The fireplace in front of me, obviously,” Asher said, dry sarcasm in full force.
Lev followed him. “What happened to my good lad?”
Asher shushed him and kneeled before the fire. “Now, we burn them.”
“Mm. I like you all witchy like this, making your own magic.”
“Take this seriously,” Asher said, and shushed him again.
“Of course. Sorry. ”
Asher lowered his own confession to the flames, and Lev followed suit.
“I know this won’t erase years of trauma and whatever villainy you think you’re guilty of,” Asher said, “but today we let it burn, and rise from the ashes.”
As flames consumed Lev’s confession, he almost believed forgiving himself could one day happen.
“I’m proud of you,” Asher said.
“I’m proud of you too.” Lev pulled Asher to his feet, and hauled him into his arms, kissing him on the way to the bed.
“Sit against the headboard,” Asher directed.
“Mm. I love it when you’re bossy,” Lev said, assuming the position as requested.
All thoughts of art and rituals and coping with humor left his head as Asher crawled onto his lap, and crashed their lips together. Lev searched for the coconut oil without looking.
Asher found the oil and took over, slicking up Lev’s cock again in that same dehumanizing manner as if Lev were a toy, except now their eyes were locked together and Asher had marked him with their sigil.
They fucked in a frenzy exactly the same way they’d kissed in the chapel, like they were afraid they were going to destroy each other but wanted to love each other more.
Using the headboard for leverage, Asher fucked himself harder, cock swinging in tantalizing synchrony.
Asher released the headboard, still riding his cock, and framed Lev’s face in his hands, connecting their gazes until everything else faded.
“Give me your fears, your regret. Show me your scars, your darkest parts, the side of you you’re afraid of.
You’re my god and I’m your servant. I’ll never stop worshipping you no matter how much you think you’re a villain. ”
Such loyalty and forgiveness from a man Lev worshipped with equal fervor was too much for a mere mortal to experience. Lev’s toes curled, his fingers scrambled to slow Asher’s pace.
“I can’t, Ash… I’m going to…”
“Do it,” Asher gasped, muscles trembling beneath Lev’s hands. “Come for me. I need you to. Fuck.”
In a desperate attempt to get Asher off before he did, Lev took Asher’s cock in his tight grip, dug his heels into the bed, and lifted his arse off the mattress, thrusting upward to drive his cock directly against Asher’s prostate.
Asher fell forward with a long moan of anguished euphoria. His eyes rolled back. His hole bore down around Lev’s cock, and rapturous bliss exploded across Lev’s body, so powerful darkness bled into his vision and stars burst into existence.
Lev didn’t slow, intent upon fucking every last drop of his come into Asher’s hole.
Asher cradled Lev’s face and kissed him with such ardent devotion that tears blurred Lev’s vision, and then Asher came too as if witnessing Lev’s rapture was what he’d been waiting for, as if all along he’d still been worshipping Lev, not taking his own pleasure, and was only coming now because it was what his god demanded.
They both collapsed, catching their breath. Lev kissed the crown of his head and stroked his thumb over the pulse point in Asher’s neck, joining his steady pulse with Asher’s frantic one.
The tide rolled ashore as Lev held him, long after they’d both softened, unwilling to part them. Asher’s breathing slowed. Lev would gladly stand vigil all night so Asher could sleep peacefully, still connected in their ouroboros.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” Asher said, lifting his head.
“You’re awake.”
“Not really. I’m sleep talking.” Asher inhaled, shuddering like he’d just finished a long crying jag instead of fucking Lev nearly to death.
“Let’s get you cleaned up then.”
“No,” Asher whined, eyes closed.
Lev clicked his tongue. “You wore yourself out. ”
Asher shushed him.
When Lev pointed out how uncomfortable sleeping with paint flake confetti would be, Asher soaked in the tub while Lev changed the sheets. Later, when Asher was safe in his arms and high tide whispered below, Lev finally did as Asher had asked and tried to see himself through Asher’s eyes.
To Asher, Leviathan wasn’t the wicked monster that was his namesake.
Asher saw beauty. But not like a landscape or a flower. Lev was a painting that showed him the world could be beautiful even when it was ugly as long as there was art.
Lev knew because he felt precisely the same way.