Chapter 31Liem
31
Liem
The gasp that Lenora C. Apworth gasped when I entered the classroom with Cody was heard around the world.
“My word, Professor Liem. Is he even real?” she asked without a care for the volume of her question or the proximity of its subject.
Cody looked at me with more than a touch of panic but visibly steeled himself as he studied her, then offered her a hand. “You must be Miss Lenny.”
Another gasp, this time with a hand to her heart. “You told him about me?”
Lenny took Cody’s offered hand and, with force that belied her frame, yanked him forward, looped her arm into the crook of his elbow, and started a promenade around the classroom.
“I am so glad the young professor procured you for us,” she said as she pulled him away from me. “Allow me to familiarize you with the class. We want you comfortable, after all.”
Cody glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes wide but not panicked, and his cheeks still flushed that lovely shade of rouge. He turned his attention back to Miss Lenny and let her show him around the room.
I’d been so eager for his arrival today that all I’d really wanted to do was call him and talk or even just listen to him breathe during his entire two-hour drive here, but I’d distracted myself from the impulse by coming to the Locc early to test-drive the Vespa.
It was probably the only thing that could’ve distracted me enough.
I ambled over to my station that I’d set up on the outer edge of the arc of easels, glancing back at Cody for signs of distress as I went. He seemed to be holding his own, though, and it helped that Miss Lenny was introducing him to people in small doses rather than letting the entire class swarm him at once.
Perched on the edge of my stool, I went through some of my breathing exercises, emptying my mind and touching on that space within that was reserved for creation.
I couldn’t lose myself there today, not with having to guide the class through the project, but still, I visited. Just long enough to summon the colors I wanted and tune out the world around me as I mixed them on my palette.
“Shall I start the music, Professor?” a soft, British-accented voice asked, drawing me back to my body.
Miss Lenny really was a trendsetter.
I sat the palette down and ran my gaze over it, pleased at the assortment, and then smiled. “Yes, Miss Lynae, that would be wonderful. You always pick so well.”
Lynae beamed, her dark skin a beautiful contrast to the paint-spattered pink linen shirt she wore. Glancing at the station beside me, my heart warmed at the palette she’d started, and I angled my head toward it. “You did a fine job with that, too, Miss Lynae.”
“I watched you and tried to do as you did,” she explained, “but you moved so fast. It was incredible.”
My face heated even as guilt crept in. “Thank you, and I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. I should have realized you were there and stopped to assist.”
She waved me off. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll hound you with more than enough questions over the next hour to make up for it.” With a light pat on my shoulder, she walked to the other side of the room and pulled out a vinyl record before placing it on the record player they’d rolled in from the rec room to use for the morning.
There was a soft scratching sound as the turntable spun and warmed, and then soft, slow jazz filled the room.
“This music makes me feel like I’m expected to strip,” Cody whispered in my ear, stopping my heart for the second time this morning.
I looked up and over my shoulder at him, my heart restarting and taking off at a gallop at his proximity. Then I glanced around the room at the eager students, most of them openly gawking at the pair of us.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they requested that you remove your shirt,” I whispered back once my eyes were on him again, “but doing so to the beat or not is entirely up to you.”
“Minx,” he replied, making me squirm as he pinched my side. “Where do you want me?”
I turned slightly in my stool and pushed back against him. “Oh, don’t ask me such questions, Dezi. I’ll be compelled to honesty.”
His laugh vibrated through me, but it cut off abruptly as he shifted his weight between his feet and then muttered a “ Goddammit ” under his breath, the space behind me suddenly vacant as he strode purposefully to the front of the class.
I tracked him as he ambled easily onto the platform and sat on the high-backed stool waiting for him there, guessing correctly that it was where he was meant to be.
Amused, enraptured, and turned on beyond reason, I stood up and followed the path he’d just taken, treasuring the warning look he shot my way.
I adored this back-and-forth with him.
Lacing my hands casually behind my back, I came to a stop below and beside him and faced the class.
Knowing the drill by now, most of the Locc residents and other Gulf Shores community members had already claimed their seats, with the couple of stragglers taking the ones left as I spoke.
“Good morning, everyone. It’s a beautiful day to paint a beautiful man, wouldn’t you agree?”
I smiled at their whoops of agreement, amused as I recalled the way Cody had laughed when I told him about watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns with Aunt Ari and Uncle Gil in the afternoons.
There was movement in the corner of my eye, but I kept my attention focused on the class for fear I wouldn’t be able to do so if I looked at him now.
“By popular demand, we’re doing a figure drawing class today,” I explained as I gestured to the stations set up at each easel. “There are more than just paints set out, so if you’d like to experiment with charcoal, pencil, or pastels today instead, feel free to do so. Miss Lynae chose the music to start, so when it runs out, whoever is first over there can choose the next one.”
I invited questions, and when they had none, I granted myself a look at Cody, finding him already looking right at me. As predicted, I almost couldn’t force my gaze away, riveted on the complexity of his intense expression.
“Let’s do this!” Miss Lenny called a few moments later from her easel directly in the middle. “Mr. Professor Liem, do you think the model would be so kind as to take off his shirt?”
A low, pained sound came from behind me, and I took it to heart as his answer.
“No, Miss Lenny—maybe not today. Let’s challenge ourselves and see how we fare with drawing clothing. It can be quite tricky.”
Cody’s relief was like a living, physical thing, and I swore I felt it like a caress on the back of my neck.
“Thank you, LL,” he murmured.
I swiveled on my heel and looked up at him. “Always, Dezi. Now,” I said, raking my eyes over him in a more professional way. In theory. “What kind of pose would you be most comfortable in?”
The classroom was shaped a bit oddly, with the only light coming from high, rectangular windows that lined the top of two of the four walls. The morning sun currently streamed in through them, illuminating Cody beautifully.
“Umm, I don’t know,” he answered with a frown, gripping his thighs. “Can you help me?”
“Of course I can.” My heart broke, healed, and came alive all at once at the familiar question.
I stepped closer and reached into the pocket of my pants. “I got you something for this. I think it will help.” I pulled the black-and-silver ring from my pocket and lifted it toward his hand. “May I?”
His breath caught just as a loud gasp sounded from behind us.
“ Oh my stars, is he proposing?”
Smiling to myself for the hundredth time today, I ignored the class in favor of Cody, who swallowed thickly as he hesitantly lifted his hand toward me.
“It’s a fidget ring,” I explained as I grasped his palm and slid the ring onto his index finger.
He made some kind of noise in the back of his throat in response, and I paused as unexpected goose bumps raced over my body. Forcing down a shiver, I held his hand for a long moment before I dragged my gaze up to his.
His hazel eyes were molten as I tapped the top of his hand and instructed, “Watch.”
He reluctantly dropped his gaze to our hands, and I kept my eyes on him as I dragged my thumb over the silver inner ring, spinning it from within the outer black one. “It’s best if you don’t move too much for the next hour or so, but spinning this would be fine. And don’t worry, it’s just sterling silver. Nothing too fancy.”
He stared at the ring for a moment longer and then, with just a little hesitance, spun it with his thumb. His eyes lifted to mine, the greens reminding me of dense forests after heavy rainfall. “Thank you, LL.”
“You’re welcome, Dezi. Now, for the pose.”
I swept my gaze down him, then in a deliberate way, pointedly stopped after I made the track back to his shoulders.
He dropped them.
I lifted my lips in approval and met his hazel eyes again, almost getting lost in that green that was even more prominent now than it was before.
I needed to adjust my paint palette.
What a glorious issue to have.
Pressing my lips together, I took a long, obvious inhale and almost let it go too soon from excitement when his broad chest expanded too. I managed to hold it for the entire three counts, then let it go for four.
With one more repetition of this, Cody’s posture indicated that he’d found comfort in his body and in this time and place. His legs fell open, and he rested his interlaced hands between them, braced on the seat of the stool.
I went through another seven-count breath, just for me, and then turned back toward the class to begin my instructions.
The first ten minutes or so were, as usual, filled with questions, indecision, and some hesitance, but once I’d made two circuits of the dozen or so participants, helping them select their mediums and implements as I guided them through the first steps, a hush fell over the class. Soon after, a collective hum of creative intention formed, making a beautiful duet with the jazz from the record player.
With one last sweep over the room, I felt confident enough to return to my station and fulfill my own long-held fantasy. My blank canvas loomed before me as I reached once more for that quiet space inside me. I floated into its embrace easily and picked up my paintbrush. Then I lifted my gaze to him.
The only one who existed now.
His posture was much the same as it was before, his gaze somewhere in the middle distance.
I looked and searched, analyzed and catalogued each piece of him.
The roundness of his ear, the slope of his shoulder, the wrinkle of my shirt pulled taut against his chest. His nipples, hardened and strained against the material.
The natural frown of his mouth in rest, the slight dimple in the middle of his upper lip. There was a slight dusky discoloration below his eyes.
Was he still not sleeping well?
My eyes trailed down to his hands, where his thumb, so slowly that it was almost imperceptible, turned the ring.
I paused at his wrist. Something was off there.
One of his bracelets was missing.
Without conscious permission, my brush found paint, and I made the first mark.
I stroked, smeared, and blotted, any understanding of my own body minimal as I stayed lost in his. The tiniest bit of awareness—enough to occasionally check in with the class—stayed with me, but no one seemed willing to pause their art for questions. To turn away from their observation of him.
Once I made it to his eyes, I utilized the five newly mixed shades of green and brown on my palette. I plucked up my smallest brush and leaned closer to my canvas.
The change in my posture must have caught his attention, because the man before me moved his eyes to me—only his eyes—and ensnared me.
My brush remained frozen in front of the canvas, and I fell into his eyes, his soul for a very, very long moment before I made another stroke on the canvas. An abrupt scratching sound cut through the room, and I broke our connection as I glanced over my shoulder. One of the younger class participants was changing out the record, a sheepish smile on her face. I gave her a reassuring simulation of a smile before getting up and revisiting each station.
They had questions, but each of them whispered them with something like reverence. For the atmosphere, for this moment in time.
For him.
A new energy had filled the room as the second record started. The songs were more modern but still graced by the timbre unique to vinyl.
I made it back to my station once everyone was taken care of and adjusted my seat so I could observe him from above the canvas.
Time passed, I assumed, but I wasn’t aware of it until Miss Lenny’s voice drifted into my space. “One hour wasn’t enough, Professor Liem.” I blinked hard and granted myself a moment to reorient before I sat down my brush.
She moved close behind me to look at my canvas, her signature gasp followed by a dramatic sigh. “I hope you don’t mind, but I may have convinced everyone to not interrupt you with more questions, which was easy to do. We all agreed we were desperate to see what you would create.” She sighed again. “It was worth it, Mr. Liem. Thank you for making this happen.”
Stupefied, I tried to assuage some of my guilt at shirking my teaching responsibilities by standing up and making a quick round of the class, noting by the clock on the wall that we only had seven minutes left.
I kept my gaze away from him and my canvas so I could keep my head to answer questions, making a few suggestions as I went down the line of easels.
But he was everywhere. And in every rendition, he was perfection.
As I went, I instructed everyone to leave their stations as they were and to come back by this evening or tomorrow to pick them up if they were done or to finish if they weren’t.
I preferred to clean the classes up myself, wanting to dedicate the full hour to the fun stuff. After many words of thanks to both me and Cody and a few stops by my station, the class dispersed.
I did a quick sweep of brushes and performed the necessary procedures to keep them from drying out. Just as the needle crackled between tracks, I turned to seek him out.
A new song began, and there he was.
Cody stood in front of my canvas, his broad back to me.
I wasn’t sure what he was seeing. How he would perceive it. Like during my early morning therapies, I didn’t consciously create, only studying the results later if I so chose.
My boots squeaked faintly against the tiles as I approached him, and just as I came within arm’s reach, he turned.
There were tears in his eyes.
I halted, but he reached for me and drew me in close, hugging me to his warm body and rubbing his cheek on the top of my head. “I missed you too.” His chest rose and fell under my cheek, and I nuzzled into him. “So much, Liem.”
Cherries and coconut. Warmth and safety.
Cody pulled back and touched his forehead to mine. “That is how you see me?” he asked, his voice thick.
I breathed him in and willed my mind to let me see it. Let me see the canvas.
And… yes.
There he was. An almost exact replica of how he was posed. No embellishments, no creative liberties.
“Just as you are,” I agreed.
We parted, and his eyes roved down my body from head to booted feet. “I think it’s my turn to paint you, Liem. Will you let me?”
“Yes,” I answered easily.
He searched my eyes intently, the greens of his once again changed but still mossy as he blinked away the remaining moisture and smiled. “Good.”
He turned away from me and walked deliberately to the classroom door and shut it quietly.
And locked it.
My heart rate galloped as I bounced lightly on my toes in anticipation, the sudden energy shift in the room almost creating another type of out of body experience.
It was like I was watching the scene from some perch above, near the sunlight from the window, as Cody walked straight to me and snaked both of his hands under my shirt, resting them both on my stomach before pressing upward, making my already cropped shirt rise higher on my abdomen.
I floated back down into my body as he stepped back and just stared.
He stared without shame or remorse, just as I had the past hour. As if on cue, my nipples started to throb along with my pulse.
Cody’s eyes remained hot on me, and there was nothing but raw anticipation inside me. I didn’t even spare a glance for the door, and there were no eye-level windows to concern myself with, so I knew I was safe.
I was always safe with him.
Cody reached around me, and when he brought his hand back, light pink paint coated the tips of his index and middle finger. “This won’t hurt you?” he asked softly.
“No,” I responded, eyeing his fingers. “It won’t hurt me.”
He painted a line across my ribs, and I gasped as he said, “You’ll tell me to stop if you want it to stop?”
“Yes,” I agreed through a whine.
He smiled at the sound. “Good.”
My shirt stayed bunched up just below my nipples as he stroked another path from my hip bone to the center of my abdomen. Another gasp flew from me as he shoved the material of my top further up and painted a line right over my nipple. My eyes closed in ecstasy, but then I forced them back open.
I didn’t want to miss any of it. I needed to see.
Cody walked me backward between a couple of easels and glanced around us, presumably for the most secure spot.
I didn’t care. He could put me anywhere right now, and I’d go.
A paint palette was sitting on the table right behind him, and he glanced at it briefly before running those same fingers through it again. He stood there staring again, a predatory calmness replacing his previously rapid breaths as he drew a new line down my chest. He paused on my ribs and dug his thumb in lightly, smudging paint along them. Goose bumps sprinted up my spine at the foreign feeling, and I automatically rose onto my toes, bucking my hips forward.
Cody smiled to himself, satisfaction in his gaze as he looked at his work. “Pretty,” he rumbled in approval.
I dropped my chin and took it all in, the combination of the previous pink with this blue creating a streak of lavender, but before I could say anything, he lunged forward and licked my unpainted nipple. I squirmed and whined as his eyes flicked up to lock on mine as he licked again. And again.
I might have fainted.
He sucked my nipple ring into his mouth and then tugged it lightly between his teeth—I whined again—before he kissed a trail along my collarbone. I could do nothing but hold onto the back of his head—I hadn’t a clue when exactly my hands had grasped him—and hold on for the ride. Suddenly his lips found my ear, and he planted a long, tender kiss just behind it and whispered, “I want you to mark me.”
“Wha—?” I rasped, sounding halfway drunk as he reached behind his head and encircled my wrist.
His gaze blazing, he guided my hand to the palette and pressed my fingertips into it. Then he took my other wrist and did the same, dipping my left even more firmly into the paints.
And then, in a quick, graceful motion that tilted the world, Cody Desmond dropped to his knees.
I inhaled sharply, and that breath went somewhere I could never get it back as he took both of my wrists and guided my hands to the back of his neck. His eyes positively smoldered from below as he pressed my painted fingertips into his skin.
“Mark me, Liem. Here. Please.”
He let go and watched me intently, giving me the space to make a different decision if I wanted to.
I certainly did not.
I dug my thumbs into his neck, deep and sure, drawing a profound groan from him. “ Fuck.”
His hands skimmed up my legs, then paused at my waistband, leaving a trail of paint there, too, before he glanced up at me in question.
I nodded.
Then he pulled, freeing my erection, and there was only a half second to feel the free air before Cody swallowed me whole, all the way to the base.
The twin lines I painted down both sides of his neck were automatic, instinctual.
I marked him as he pleasured me so thoroughly that I had to force my lips together to hold back a scream.