Follow the River

Rain’s knees start slipping, making it harder for him to keep a steady pace as he continues to work himself over my shaft, so I wrap my arm around his back, the other hand on his ass and quickly flip our positions.

Hovering over him, I trail my lips across his jaw as I thrust my hips into him with quick, smooth movements. He pants against my neck and sweat starts trickling down my back when his slick fingers work their way into my hair. Tugging at the strands, he pulls my mouth to his.

“Baby,” I murmur in protest, thinking about where my mouth and tongue were not long ago.

“I don’t fucking care,” he growls before grabbing my face, coating teal paint all over my face, and crushing his lips to mine. His tongue is immediately probing my mouth to find mine and I fucking love it. I kiss him fiercely, fucking him harder and faster as we slip and slide over the paint-covered canvas.

Soon, too soon, I can feel myself getting close.

I need him there with me.

Reaching between us, I grip his length and slide my fist in rapid strokes, using the paint as lubricant.

“Get there, Rain,” I growl into his mouth before moving my mouth to his Adam’s apple, licking it despite it being covered in paint.

Fuck it, it’s non-toxic. I checked.

“I am,” he groans, his hips bucking to meet my thrusts. “When you go, I’ll go.”

“Where do you want me to cum?” I pant, bring my mouth back to his.

“Wherever you want, babe. One of the best things about art is the mess you get to make while creating it.”

Goddamnit, I love him.

I smile against his lips, nipping the bottom one and giving it a soft tug with my teeth before pulling from his body. Gripping both our cocks in my hand, I jack our dicks together, coating them with paint and sweat. I finish first, spilling all over his paint-splattered stomach, his own release right behind mine.

Struggling to catch my breath, I reach down and rub my hand through the milky liquid, mixing our releases together with the paint across his abs.

Claiming him.

Mine.

Creating a fucking masterpiece.

Ours.

I might not always understand art, but I sure as hell feel it. It's messy and never perfect, but it’s always beautiful in its own way. It’s a visual representation of not only time and effort, but of passion. It’s a way of putting a piece of your soul on display for others to see and trusting them to find similarities in their interpretation. It's open to vulnerability, knowing not everyone will see it in the same light.

Just like the love I have for him.

And from the drawings in his sketchpad, I’m willing to bet the love he feels for me too.

A love like ours will never be perfect. Putting in the work won’t always be easy. Sometimes we won’t work quite right and others we will have to take a step back and try to see what the other sees. And there will be times when people think it's wrong. But I have no doubt it will always be intense and passionate.

A chaotic flurry of adoration and desire.

Yet as messy as this love is, it will always be beautiful.

Because it will always be ours.