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He lets out a little huff, almost a laugh. “No. I had a meeting with my dean but I ended up canceling. It was Lainey’s idea to make you jealous. I told her not to do it. I want you to come back to me on your own, and not because I’m with someone else.”
I take a step closer to him. But stop and move away. “I want to come back to you, Ash. I really do…”
“But you can’t get over you and I being actual brothers, right?”
I lower my head. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“I won’t fight you on a divorce, Noah. Mainly for the kids. If it’s what you want, and if we can’t have a future, might as well do it sooner than later, so the kids can heal from it.”
It should make me feel better. I know this is the right decision but why does it feel so wrong? I wonder to myself.
He steps farther from my reach, heading to the door. “Wait, Ash. Wait a second.”
He turns around. I can’t read his expression, but he stands there, waiting for me to say or do anything. I walk toward him. I’m slow and deliberate. Hell, I still have paint all over my hands.
I grab for him, and pull him into my body. My lips reach his lips before I can overthink it. I push him closer to the wall, knocking my paint palette on the floor. We leave it. There’s not even a thought that we’ll stop to pick it up. My fingers, wet with paint, touch his cheeks, painting them blue and orange.
I leave his lips for a second. “I was so fucking blind with rage, thinking another man was going to get a chance to fall in love with you.” I continue to stare into his eyes. “This is so wrong, but why does it feel so right?” He drops his head to mine. “I need you. I don’t know what this means, but…”
“Just shut up, Noah. Shut the fuck up and make love to me.”
I swing him around. I can’t fuck him against the wall. I want him underneath me, and I push him to the floor, on the drop cloth we just spilled paint on, but it doesn’t matter. “On your hands and knees, Ash,” I order, and he pushes up and rolls over, greens, purples and yellows painting his thighs and his back.
“I love you covered in my palette.” I begin kissing his back, moving my hand around to his cock, stroking it. “I fucking missed your body, honey.”
“And I missed yours, Noah. I missed you so much.”
“I still can’t promise anything,” I begin again.
“Shut the fuck up. Just make love to me, cover me in your paints, and in your cum, wear my ass out, bite my back, do whatever you want as long as you don’t stop touching me.”
“I’ve missed my bossy bottom.” I lean over his back, kissing his neck, and rub my skin over his, his painted body covering me with the same colors.
“I missed everything about you, Noah. Now, are you going to fuck me?” he asks.
I stand for a brief second, and in the kitchen part of our studio, is a small tube of lube we used when we wanted to be loud, but the kids were home. We’d sneak out here.
I sit on my knees behind him. “Please do something, baby. Please.” He’s begging me now. My hands open up his ass, and my tongue begins to rim him. “Oh, fuck yes. It’s been three months. I’m going to lose it. I fucking miss your tongue.”
I can eat his ass out all night long, but my own cock is screaming for a release. My hand wasn’t enough for my dick, and my cock loves Ash’s ass as much as I do.
“You want my fingers, or do you want my cock?”
“Is that even a question, babe?” he asks.
I line the tip of my cock up to his hole, and push in gently. “You won’t break me, Noah. I need you to split me open. I need you to fuck me like this is our last time.”
His words sting, and he’s been the one fighting for us the whole time. Now,he’sready to talk of a divorce, and that this may beourlast time. But, fuck, a divorce is what I wanted. Wasn’t it?
“Now it’s your turn to shut the fuck up, honey. Just let me fuck you good and hard.”
I push inside of him, and start slow, but I can’t contain myself. We barely went a day without sex. And now it’s been three months. Every part of me missed him in this way. And if I’m being honest, every bit of me missedhimevery day.
“I love you, Ash. I love you so much.”
He doesn’t return my words, but pushes his ass back into my cock, and we’re fucking like rabbits. I hold onto his hips, and I don’t let him go. Can I ever let him go?
I’m unable to hold onto him anymore. Not one fucking second more. I release inside of him, and we both fall onto the floor in a heap of wet paint, a fucking mess. But I can’t find a reason to care. He’s in my arms, after I pushed him away for so long, and as wrong as we might be, I can’t let him go ever again.
