Page 85 of Butterfly
“You can watch,” he says, moving back to the table and turning to place his lips briefly on mine. “But… from over there maybe.”
I nod and head for the chair he’s directed me to, just out of his way but close enough that I can capture every moment of him as he works.
When he’s done painting big sections of the mask using the shades of green he chose, he plucks a thin black brush from his collection. He eyes the bristles for a moment with a small frown, then places the tip into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the end like he means to wet them down. I watch in awe, slightly aroused, as he takes it from between his lips and examines the end again before nodding to himself. Clearly content with how the brush looks now, Shiloh dips the bristles he shaped into a fine point with his tongue into the black paint before moving to the mask again. He carefully lays a thin line along one of the splotches, then another, and I start to see what he’s creating. It’s the same base image of a snake’s head, but somehow so much better than just that. It comes to life as he adds lines here and there, outlining scales and teeth, and adding in a wicked forked tongue using the red he grabbed last.
He’s so fucking talented.
I may not know shit about art itself, but I know Shiloh, and I know he’s damn good at this. His body moves like a dancer ashe adjusts the mask on the table, strong forearms flexing and muscles straining as he reaches to dab bits of black here and there, making the vision in his head match what he’s putting into the artwork in front of him.
How fucking lucky am I that this gorgeous creature is mine?
That he saw me and instead of slitting my throat, decided to just claim my whole heart for himself instead?
He is beautiful here in his element, and though he might be pissed at me for doing what I’m about to do, I can’t keep my hands off him any longer. It’s impossible to pass this up… Shiloh here in his element, paint spattered, with his curls tangled around his face like a wicked halo. I slip behind him, placing my hands on his hips, and he startles a little bit. He pulls his hand back from the mask and glares at me over his shoulder.
“I don’t want to fuck this up,” he says, turning back to the table.
“Then don’t.” I lean down and press my lips to the top of his shoulder, trailing kisses up the side of his neck as he tilts his head to give me better access to his skin. My hands hold tight to his hips, and he grumbles under his breath at me, but makes no move to stop me from doing what I’m desperate to do. “Keep painting.”
“How?” he nearly barks at me, as I trail my fingers over the waistband of his pants.
“Try.”
I wait until he places the brush back onto the helmet, letting him finish the thin, fine line that he’s working on before I lift his shirt and slip my fingers into his pants, trailing my hand along the soft skin there. He breathes out a heavy breath as I remove my hands and undo the button of his jeans, pressing into him from behind so he can feel that I’m so fucking hard for him right now.
“Donovan,” he breathes, as I unzip his jeans and push his pants down to his thighs.
“Paint, baby,” I murmur, licking a stripe up his neck as I gently cup his growing erection in my hand. He makes a soft noise under his breath, and I’m not sure whether it’s meant to cuss me out or spur me on, but he leans back into me slightly, ass grazing the front of my sweatpants and the hard cock beneath them.
His hand trembles as he collects more paint, green this time, and goes back to lining the scales on the face of the snake. I tighten my hand around his cock as he grows hard in my grasp, tenting the boxers he still wears. With a quick motion, I let him go and grip the elastic waistband, sliding them down to hover at his thighs with his jeans. Shiloh fills in a line on the snake’s face, as I lick my palm then take his cock in my hand. He groans softly as I stroke him once, pressing my hips forward slightly into his ass.
I’m about to remind him that he needs to finish what he’s doing, when he shudders and goes back to painting the mask while I slowly move on him, leaning down to kiss the side of his neck again. With my free hand, I trail my fingers up his abdomen, feeling his body twitch as I try my hardest to set him on fire with my touch alone. When I finally reach his nipple, I brush my fingertip over it and he moans low, tipping his head back and abandoning his artwork for a split second.
He’s almost done now, and for that I’m thankful, because I desperately want to bend him over this table and fuck him right here and now. My control is slipping a little bit now that I have my hands all over him, and the next time I brush my fingers over his nipple, I pause there to grab the tender bud in my fingers, giving it a harder squeeze than I really mean to. But I quickly learn that it’s not too much for him. Shiloh lets loose a soft cry,his hips bucking forward as he pushes his cock into my fist, and I grin.
“You can’t,” he says, tipping his head back to look at me as best he can. “Not if you want me to finish this.”
“Hurry,” I say, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before giving his nipple another small tweak. “I’m going to fuck you right here, Shiloh. Right here at this table as soon as you’re done.”
He shivers slightly, but takes a deep breath as he goes back to the mask. I continue stroking his cock slowly in my hand, rubbing my thumb over the tip to capture whatever liquid is seeping out and smoothing it over his length. He hums and shudders as I move, but he doesn’t stop painting. Finally, he puts the paintbrush down and rests his hands on the table, pushing his ass back toward me a little bit.
“Done?” I ask. He nods, but there’s a hesitation there that I’m not sure about. “What’s missing?”
“Me,” he gasps as I tighten my grip around his cock.
“You?”
He reaches for the knife on the table and holds it up. “I’m missing. I want to be there. I need to be there with you.”
Before I can even process what’s happening, he takes the knife and slides it along the thickest part of his forearm. Blood bubbles to the surface as alarm bells ring in my head.
“What the hell, Shiloh?” I ask, letting go of his cock and leaning over to reach for him.
He pulls his arm away from me as his whole body shivers. As blood trails down his skin he moans, pushing back against my cock. “Touch me, Donovan. Don’t stop.”
He lifts his arm over the top of the mask and I reach around him to take his rock-hard cock in my hand again, giving him a stroke that has him whimpering and pushing his needy ass back into my cock. Blood droplets land on the snake’s green scalesas I rub my thumb over the head of his dick, eliciting another breathy moan from somewhere feral inside of him.
“Fuck,” Shiloh breathes, tipping his head back as his blood drops onto the mask I will wear, cementing him as part of what I’ll take with me onto the ice. It’s strange, but I’m starting to get an even clearer picture of Shiloh, and if I said it wasn’t sending a tiny thrill rippling through me watching him add himself to my mask, I’d be lying.
