Brian arrived home from work, expecting to see Justin napping on the couch or fixing leftovers in the kitchen. Instead, and much to his surprise, he was sitting cross-legged on the chair with his pencil and his sketchpad. Brian couldn’t resist coming over for a look. He pulled off his shoes and socks and padded over to behind the chair. “What are you drawing?” he asked quietly, after watching over his shoulder for a while.

“Nothing,” Justin replied, bending further over the page to obstruct Brian’s view.

“Huh. Doesn’t look like nothing,” Brian said, recognizing the drawing immediately even though it was a little rough.

Justin baited him. “No? What does it look like?”

Brian smiled and moved around to the front of the chair. “It looks like us.”

Justin shifted the pad away from Brian’s view again. He was obviously very engrossed in what he was doing. “If you knew what it was, then why’d you ask?” he said, not looking up.

Brian laughed, and knew he’d been defeated. It was a good thing that the boy was drawing again. Not that the drawing was all that good, but the effort was. “It’s good,” he said after a while, half-lying.

“No, it isn’t,” Justin said, a little exasperated. He got up, threw the pad down, and sprawled onto the couch.

“Why’d you stop?” Brian said softly, joining Justin on the couch.

Justin wasn’t about to tell him the real reason he stopped. He hadn’t even really meant for Brian to see him doing it in the first place. After all, if he was drawing again, it meant he was “better.” And that meant he would have to leave. Fortunately, he knew of a fairly effective way to distract Brian from that realization. He grinned. “Because I’d rather be doing something else,” he said, reaching for Brian’s shirt buttons. Brian swatted his hand away and began undoing the buttons himself.

“I’ll do this,” he said, then handed Justin his sketchpad. “You draw it.” Justin gaped a little, seeming both dismayed and fascinated as Brian removed his shirt. Brian nodded to him. “Draw,” he commanded.

Hesitantly, Justin picked up his pencil and began to scribble the first lines. He’d drawn Brian a hundred times before, but this time he was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the hard lines of Brian’s physique. He wasn’t used to being scrutinized as he worked. He tried to blank his mind and let Brian appear by himself on the page. Brian unzipped his pants.

“You’re making it very difficult to concentrate,” Justin complained, reaching for Brian’s waistband. Brian dodged him.

“Try,” he said, very seriously, as he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. With difficulty, Justin returned his efforts to the drawing. As he worked, Brian removed his underwear and was soon standing naked before him. Half-erect. Justin flushed, and reached for him again.

“Not until you’re finished,” Brian warned, watching Justin intensely as the pencil flew. Quite hard himself now, Justin gave himself over to the drawing. Before long, Brian’s naked form had manifested itself upon the page. Satisfied, he handed it to Brian for approval.

“Now this is good,” he said, genuinely impressed but also a little disturbed by the dark expression Justin had depicted on his face. He always drew his face this way. It hurt Brian in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

“Are you sure?” Justin questioned, concerned. “You look sorta mad.”

Brian knelt down, kissing Justin lightly on the lips, letting the brief moment of uneasiness pass him by. “Not mad,” he said, and Justin kissed him again. Deeply. He reached over and softly ran his hand into the soft, short hair at the back of Justin’s neck. He shivered a bit, and smiled into Brian’s kisses. He had met with Brian’s approval.

Within minutes, Brian had managed to peel away all of Justin’s clothes, and they walked hand in hand into the bedroom. Laying him down gently, Brian began to cover Justin’s neck and shoulders with hungry kisses, savoring the softness of his skin, the scent of sweat and light aftershave, the delicious anticipation as their hard members rubbed up against each other. He began sucking hard. Justin gave a weak protest. “I can’t help it,” Brian murmured. “You taste so good.”

“But you’ll leave a mark,” Justin complained.

“Good,” Brian replied. “Then everyone will know that you belong to me.” With that, he returned his attention to Justin’s body. He moved downward, lavishing his tongue’s attention on Justin’s nipple. When he bit down, Justin yelped with pain/pleasure but gave no further protest. In fact, he arched his back to meet him. Trailing his tongue down again, he licked at bit at Justin’s chest, his navel, his pubic hair. By the time he finally brushed his lips against the head of Justin’s dick, already dripping, Justin was squirming with anticipation. He grinned to himself, reveling in the feeling of having the boy so completely under his control.

Painfully slowly, he ran his tongue around and beneath the tip. Involuntarily, Justin bucked his hips. He took the head into his mouth, gently sucking while continuing to swirl his tongue around. He established a slow rhythm, with Justin’s hips rising and falling in sync. Brian continued, taking him in deeper into the back of his throat, until he sensed Justin was about to come. He stopped and moved up to kiss his mouth again, sharing the sensuous taste of the boy’s precum as he calmed down a bit. Then, unable to wait any longer, he reached for a condom and lube.

Staying on top of him, Brian slipped one finger inside, then two, finding that Justin relaxed easily. Satisfied, he moved into position over Justin, letting the head of his dick rest just outside Justin’s hole. Justin squirmed, waiting as Brian teased him, eventually breathing, “Fuck me,” rather desperately. Happy to oblige, Brian smiled and pushed himself deep inside. He clasped his hands into Justin’s and kissed him passionately, loving the feeling of Justin’s muscles contracting and relaxing around him. He began rocking into him, slowly back and forth, his eyes never leaving Justin’s.

Justin, unused to the eye contact, found it incredibly exciting. He couldn’t control his expressions of lust and pleasure as Brian fucked him and didn’t much care. Brian’s look was one of smug satisfaction, but microexpressions of ecstasy broke through, thrilling Justin even further. Their pace quickened.

When Brian’s stare became too much, Justin shut his eyes and focused entirely on the feeling of Brian inside him, sliding up against his prostate. The tension was building, and several times Brian would slow down again just as he was on the verge of coming. That was his game, and Justin didn’t mind playing. Finally, though, it became too much, and the Brian’s thrusts along with his stomach rubbing up against his cock did it. He moaned brokenly, sharply sucking in his breath as he came all over his own and Brian’s bodies. The orgasm held him for several seconds, and Brian thrust deeper and harder in response, riding Justin’s spasms.

Recovering, Justin wrapped his arms around his lover and concentrated on squeezing Brian’s dick with his muscles. Brian was fucking him with abandon now, hurting him slightly which made it all the better. Grunting loudly, Brian shoved into him one last time as his own orgasm hit, causing his whole body to shudder. He collapsed for a moment onto Justin’s chest, kissing his neck softly in the afterglow.

After Justin had been asleep for a while, Brian got up to look through the sketchbook. There were at least a dozen drawings, the first ones quite rudimentary but the more recent ones growing quite good. They were all of himself and Justin, in various positions of embracing and fucking. Several of them were simply the two men holding hands. He had to have been working on his drawings the whole time since he moved in, hiding them from Brian until today.

All of the portraits had the same hard, cold expression that had bothered Brian earlier. Justin’s face in the pictures showed signs of longing, of sadness and desperation, sometimes with tears in his eyes. Brian closed the book, feeling like he had stumbled upon someone’s diary that he didn’t want to read but couldn’t resist the temptation. He knew what Justin was feeling, but he didn’t need to have it shoved in his face. He put the book back where he’d found it and returned to the bed, angry that he was so bothered by the kid’s pictures.

He would have to go. Soon.

But looking at his face, angelic as he slept, Brian realized he couldn’t kick him out. Not now, anyway. First he had to find some way to get rid of that expression. And the tears. He couldn’t stand to see those anymore, either.

Fucking kid.

end