“Please, leave.” Marc’s voice wavered but his expression was resolute.
Slowly, Royce turned back toward the front door, his heart shattering into pain-filled shards. His gaze dragged over the painting Marc had been working on, the joy in his image seeming to almost mock him. So many memories came flooding back of times that Marc got him to laugh and so damn easily. He paused, unable to get himself to take another step. He looked over the open living room. Any furniture that might have filled the space had been moved out. There were easels holding other paintings and a long, paint-splattered table with an array of paints, brushes, and other tools of Marc’s craft.
He wanted to memorize Marc in this space. It was where he belonged. At home with his art, surrounded by it. Standing there, he finally noticed the other paintings. More than two dozen of them. Different styles and colors, but they all had one thing in common: Royce was the subject. There was a landscape that looked like it was the view from the Italian bed and breakfast with Royce’s back to the painter as he watched the sunrise. There were paintings of his body as he stretched out naked in bed and others just of his tattoos. All the paintings were of Royce.
“You’ve been trying to purge me,” Royce said, his back still to Marc. “Forty-five days and dozens of paintings and you still can’t.”
“I love you.”
Royce wanted to turn around and face Marc, but he was afraid to move. Those three words he’d been dying to hear. “Don’t make me leave.”
“Love isn’t enough if you don’t respect my intelligence to make sound decisions for my life. To at least talk to me first before arbitrarily deciding what’s best for me.”
“I do. I will. Just give me a second chance. Let me prove how much I love you. Show you that I can be worthy of you.”
Royce stood perfectly still, waiting for Marc to either order him away again or say something.…
The sharp slap of bare feet smacking against the hardwood floor was Royce’s only warning. He turned in time to catch Marc as his longer body slammed against his. Marc’s mouth instantly covered his, swallowing down his moan of relief. He tasted like heaven, and Royce would never be able to get enough.
“Forgive me. Love you. Love you so damn much. Never letting go of you again,” Royce repeated over and over again as he kissed Marc. The artist’s body melted into Royce’s and they were still not close enough. It had been too long since he’d last touched his soft skin, felt him shudder with pleasure.
“I love you, Royce. I’ve never stopped,” Marc murmured. His strong fingers dug into the muscles of Royce’s back, keeping them pressed tightly together.
Running his hands down Marc’s back, Royce grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it up. That frantic tug was enough to prod Marc to release Royce enough to start pulling at Royce’s clothes. They separated only enough to tear each other’s clothes off. Ripping material and frantic pants filled the room before they came back together. Marc’s nimble fingers danced across Royce’s too visible ribs. Sad eyes met Royce’s, and he wanted to look away from the questions there.
“I didn’t want to go on without you,” Royce simply said.
Marc smiled slowly, lifting one of his hands to trace his index finger along Royce’s lower lip. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Never again.”
Grinning, Royce nipped Marc’s finger before sucking it into his mouth. He laved the pad of his finger with his tongue, loving how Marc’s pupils dilated with pleasure and a throaty groan left his parted lips.
“Fuck, Royce. I need you.”
Royce released Marc’s finger and then carefully lowered him to the floor. He couldn’t be in more agreement. Kneeling between Marc’s legs, he ran his hands up his thighs, over his hips to his stomach, purposefully skipping over Marc’s straining cock. He loved watching his lean muscles dance and jump under his beautiful skin, but he couldn’t play. They were both panting and leaking, too damn close already. It had been so long since they’d last been together. Royce was in tune to Marc’s body, still. He knew they wouldn’t be able to manage slow and gentle. Not this time.
“Don’t tease,” Marc snarled. “And you better have some supplies.”
With a grin, Royce grabbed his pants and pulled out his wallet. He had one packet of lube and a condom. Something he’d added to his wallet after he and Marc had started having sex since they’d been prone to spur-of-the-moment sessions against any surface they could find. He wanted to always be prepared so that he never had to say no to Marc.
Marc watched as Royce rolled on the condom, slowly stroking his own cock. He loved the way Marc’s eyes moved over his body as if he was memorizing everything he saw so he could recreate it later in loving detail on a canvas. Yes, he’d lost too many pounds, and he was too thin, but Marc looked at him with complete love. He wanted to always be worthy of this man, to be worthy of his love.