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Two
Dustin
Monday evening started strangely enough, with Phillip calling me asking if I was up for helping a friend. I figured he meant moving a couch or something, not nude modeling for a university figure drawing class.
Not that I had an issue with the nudity. I’d worked with the digital version of nude bodies for years, and I was a competition swimmer in high school and college, so I was used to wearing practically nothing for an audience. I didn’t have anything to hide.
I also didn’t have an issue with the gorgeous woman who had been in the back of the classroom rendering me in a compromising position with my best friend and occasional more. I hoped she’d be okay after that confrontation with the guy looking for her. If she’d said the word, I would’ve decked the guy pursuing her. No one needed that kind of harassment in their lives.
Being her knight in shining armor had my adrenaline racing. Better still, her sketch—that frozen moment in time of sharing a naked kiss with Phillip—was exactly the way I pictured he and I looked when we were wrapped up in each other. The whole thing had my blood roaring with desire. He and I had been so busy with work, like everyone at AcesPlayed, that we weren’t seeing anyone. We found stress relief in each other and sex, but it was fast and hard without much time for things like drawn-out kisses.
When I reached the classroom, Phillip was gone from the platform at the front of the room, and the students were wrapping up.
“Did you see where the other guy went?” I asked the woman closest to the door.
She looked up, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. “Next door, I think.” Her voice was meek.
So young. Not like Addie, who didn’t look old by any definition, but held herself with confidence and experience, and had a look that said she’d seen some shit. She was, without question, closer to my own forty than anyone else in this room.
“Thanks.” I gave the girl a warm smile, and went to find Phillip.
He was at the back of an empty classroom, head down and focused on the sketch pad in front of him. We were both video game artists, it was how we met, years ago. But we were also old enough we’d learned our craft before digital was a thing. He didn’t look up as I approached, his pencil gliding over the paper.
His subject was a woman with long hair falling around the delicate features of her face as she worked on her own drawing.
I wasn’t the only one whose attention she caught. An unfamiliar and uncomfortable ping echoed in my chest and I dismissed it. “We’re supposed to be the models.” I kept my voice low, to not startle him.
Phillip arched an eyebrow. Fucking sexy. “She was enthralling. Where’d you get off to?”
“Needed a soda. Ended up rescuing her from a grabby ex.” I nodded at his page. “Enthralling and enthralled, based on the way she drew us.”
Phillip closed his book. “I assume that was why she was here.”
“Not what I meant.” I captured his hand and pulled him to his feet, into a similar embrace to the one she’d drawn. It felt good to be pressed against him. “Like this,” I murmured before kissing him hard. Maybe we shouldn’t do this here, but patience had never been one of my virtues.
He pressed a hand to my throat, shifting the power dynamic in an instant and controlling the kiss. His mouth was rough and hard against mine. Desperate. Hungry. Or that was me, sinking into and devouring his desire.
Thiswas more like Addie’s picture. The fact that she’d conveyed this moment through pencil lines, amplified the heat roaring through me. A sketch and a kiss and I was horny and hard. Neat trick.
Phillip used his full body to push me back to a darker corner of the room. With both of us in sweat shorts, his hardening cock was evident against my hip. We were out of the main view of the door, but voices drifted in from the hallway, and anybody could walk in here.
And now I was harder.
I dragged rough fingers up Phillip’s back, pressing closer, grinding my erection into him with the rhythmic pump of my hips. Did I care that I was dry-humping a co-worker in the back of a classroom?
A lot. It was fucking hot.
Phillip grabbed my dick through my sweats and stroked. His rough grip and the burn he left behind was almost too much, but I also couldn’t get enough.
“You draw people fucking for a living”—his voice was gravel—“and some random woman sketches us screwing—”
“Kissing intensely. No penises were sheathed in the making—”
Phillip kissed me again, biting my lips and claiming my mouth completely. “We’ll have to take this to its logical conclusion then.”
“Kissing’s logical conclusion is getting off?” I teased.
“It is when clothes start coming off.” He stopped stroking me and yanked the waistband of my shorts further down my hips, enough to grab my bare cock and free it. His hands were soft, but his grip was tight and skilled when he grasped my shaft and stroked. He worked me until my hips jerked in time with his rhythm. “I think we should make our own art.”
