Page 49 of From the Ashes

Of course that’s the one he picked. “You know that was me capturing us making love on the beach, right?”

He bites his lower lip and grins, color rising on his cheeks. “I had a feeling.”

I’m kissing him before I even realize it. But I guess it’s okay, because he’s kissing me right back. “That one’s yours, anyway,” I mumble against his lips. “It was always yours. Colt, this place is incredible. I love it. I…it’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Phew,” he says with a nervous laugh. I pull back to look at him properly and he keeps talking. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to be opening a can of worms. You started painting again—you gave me that triptych—so I hoped it was something that you were enjoying again. But I was worried it could equally set off a trauma reaction or something.”

Bless his heart. I kiss his cheek. “Nothing but gratitude and happiness here, I promise.”

He touches my hair then cradles my jaw. “I want you to be free, Zahir. The way you’ve made me feel free. I want you to bear your soul for the world to see. It’s too beautiful to keep hidden away.”

“So are you,” I say earnestly, feeling overcome by his words. “I…Colt. Will you let me paint you?”

“Like one of your French girls?” he quips. I can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

But, yes, that’s exactly what I want.

“Not for the world to see,” I assure him. “Not if that’s something you don’t want. But for me. I’d like you to be my first subject in this beautiful sanctuary. Please.”

He swallows, his eyes shimmering in the light streaming from the windows. “I’d be honored,” he whispers.

Without speaking, I gently steer him toward the sofa until we’re standing beside it. Then I make short work of divesting him of his clothes before easing him down on the couch. When he’s lying down, I drape one hand above his head and place the other on his stomach, then move his legs so one is hooked over the sofa arm and the other is resting on the floor.

“Comfy?” I ask. He nods, looking up at me reverently. “You look so beautiful,” I murmur.

His body is already a work of art. But there’s a history there, too. A scar I remember him getting from climbing out his bedroom window one time to see me. Another I don’t know anything about. Tan lines from surfing with me recently. Muscles he’s built up over the years to become the strong man he is today.

I’ve positioned him like this to display his cock prominently. He’s not entirely soft, but still mostly relaxed, which is what I wanted. After so long in the closet, I was concerned this might be too much for him. But he looks completely at ease. In fact, he seems a little punch drunk as he smiles up at me.

“You make me feel beautiful, baby,” he says. “You’re my ocean.”

I bend down and kiss his lips. “You’re my sunshine,” I mumble against them.

Before I can get carried away, I move back and look for what supplies are close at hand. Perfect. There’s a new pack of charcoal pencils on the table, and it takes me no time to find the right kind of paper in the drawers to put on one of the easels. Once I’m set up, I meet Colt’s gaze and begin unbuttoning my shirt.

The only sounds in the air are the overhead fan and both our heavy breaths. I don’t know if either of us even blinks until I’m as naked as he is, and I’m glad this studio is on the second floor where no one can peer through the windows at us.

This moment is just between me and my man.

I move to the easel and start sketching, capturing Colt’s prone form quickly in bold strokes. Then I move on to filling in a few details like his gorgeous eyes, nose and lips, several strands of his soft hair, and his budded nipples.

Until there’s just one thing I haven’t drawn.

I lick my lips, meeting his gaze. I’m pretty sure he’s been quietly watching me during the few minutes I’ve been working. “Touch yourself,” I instruct him, my voice hoarse.

He doesn’t even hesitate or look away. He just lowers the hand from his stomach to wrap around his cock, swiping his thumb over his tip, making it shine with pre-cum.

“Like this, baby?”

My heart is hammering, and my own cock is thickening. “Yeah,” I grunt, flicking the charcoal over the page, immediately bringing to life his hardening length and the way he’s pleasuring himself. It’s raw and fluid and beautiful.

This is Colton Ross. He might not be able to come out to everyone, but this is me helping him come out to himself and the universe. He’s stunning and I won’t let him hide away any longer.

As soon as I’m happy I’ve got what I need, I move away from the easel. I plan on adding a lot of shading and more details later. But right now, I desperately need to feel Colt under me.

He just watches as I approach, naturally dropping his hand and giving me space to straddle him. His cock is rock hard and leaking now, and for a second, I revel in rubbing myself against him as I capture his mouth for a filthy kiss.

But I’ve still got the charcoal in my hand. I did that on purpose. So before we can get too carried away, I lean back and study Colt’s chest as it rises up and down, looking at the perspiration beading on his skin. My palms are already mucky, but I rub even more black dust over them. Then I press one against the side of his neck and the other over his heart, kissing him again as I do.

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