Amethyst in the Key of D Page 4
"So much." He stroked and petted, purring almost. "Thank you, Ami."
"Thank you." Ami's cheek brushed his belly, just a little scratchy. "You might have asked me to leave."
"No. Never." It. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't understand it. He just couldn't. But it was true, this thing between them.
"Good. I want to take you home. This... this thing is killing you."
Could he do that? Could he stop making music for people and just make it for Ami? Or just play small clubs now and then and write...oh. Yeah. Home. A home with Ami and just let his muse back in.
"Okay," was all he said. "I'll tell the driver."
"It's that easy? Wonderful." Ami nodded. "Your music will play and I'll paint and stay with you."
"And I'll help you out in the shop and we can wallow in the tub together and really make a mess on that mattress on the floor."
Ami snorted, biting his hip, teeth scraping and sending his eyes flying open. "That is art, Dee. Not mess."
"I know that. But we can do other shit too. With like, tarps and whipped cream and oh! noodles. I like noodles, luv. Do you like peanut sauce?"
"Mmhmm. I like the way it's sweet and hot and gritty all at once."
"Good." That cemented it. He could only love a man who loved peanut sauce. "Let's go home, luv. Ami. Mine."
"Yes." Ami drew him into those strong arms, held him close. "Home so you can sing."
"And you can paint." And they could just be them. And that would be enough for him.
***
The guitar music filled the air, drew him from the studio, up the stairs and into the blue room. Dee would be there, sprawled on a stool, playing, singing, watching the storm clouds and the city and the lights. He could smell Dee, his lover sunk into the wood, the walls, the air, along with the linseed oil and his soap and the peanut sauce they ordered in once a week.
Amethyst stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back and down into the studio where the yellow canvas waited to be finished, waited for that splash of blue.
Or violet.
Maybe both, one coming from the top and the other rushing up from below...
A deep thrum of strings told him he should start with the violet and maybe work in a deep midnight blue.
His feet led him back down the stairs before he even thought, Dee's music pushing him, driving him toward the tubes and brushes. "Don't stop, Dee. Please."
That music went on and on, Dee in the groove, he could tell. The groove was hot, too, all heavy thump interspersed with good slide. Dee’s feet pounded the ground every now and again, acting the drum, being the beat.
Amethyst stripped out of his pants before he dove in, paint and sweat and passion pouring through him, crashing onto the canvas. Pleasure. Pure pleasure.
Dee played him green and yellow, purple and blue. A streak of pure black, where the guitar growled like thunder. Then Dee started singing along, echoing through the building, and it was all dark amethyst again.
One canvas finished, he began another, cock aching, hard, Pleasure put aside and replaced with Desire.
He'd filled four canvases when the music trailed off, the last note a wail, a plea. A need.
"Dee..." He dropped his brush, scrambling up the stairs, paint stained fingers sliding up the banister.
Dee met him at the top, grabbing him in with fingers that bled a little from the constant contact with guitar strings. "Mmm. Hi. Did you make art, babe?"
"Yes. Yes." He nodded, hands sliding around Dee's waist, face lifting for a kiss. "I need you now, though. I poured myself out."
"Mmm. Then I need to fill you up." Dee kissed him again, and both of them seemed to melt together. Dee still had that obsessive thing going on, the addictive personality, but Amethyst thought maybe they had it figured out now. They just fed each other.
Dee tugged him away from the top of the stairs, drew him into the blue room, the huge mattress covered in soft blankets, waiting for them.
They landed with a thud and a roll, Dee's hands so strong now, so sure with food and fucking and art and real music and life.
That mouth moved on his throat and chest like a brand, Dee's humming vibrating against his breastbone, the paint on him easing their movements. "So pretty," Dee said. "So hot."
"I need." He pushed Dee's hand to his balls, behind. "Empty. Dee."
"I'll fill you." Dee's fingers pushed against his tat, pressing against that tiny slip of skin. Yeah, that was it, especially when one finger pushed against his hole, sliding in. Dee moaned, the sound like a joyous shout.
He nodded, pushed up and got his mouth on Dee's throat, teeth scraping the skin.
Dee tilted back for him, giving him all that skin, pale and smooth, so much better now that the man had all but quit smoking. Amethyst had to laugh. Dee's doctor hardly ever yelled anymore.
And when he did, it was because they played too hard, pushed each other too long. Pushed...
"Dee... More, lovely. More."
"Get me the slick, luv. Then we can have more. The paint isn't enough." Dee smacked his ass, hard, sending him rolling to the edge of the mattress.
He laughed and groaned all at once, ass shaking as he got up on hands and knees, hips already rocking.
Dee slid up behind him, licking his balls and hole, making him glad he used non-toxic paint.
"Dee. Dee." His fingers curled into the blankets, head dropping down as he panted, shook, cadmium red flashing behind his eyelids.
"Mmmhmm. Good." The words vibrated on his skin, that sleek, wet tongue pushing at him.
Dee's fingers pushed at his balls, nails scraping the ink behind, the sensation maddening, wild.
All he could do was rock back against those fingers, that mouth, his hands searching blindly for the lube. Dee made him insane, tongue fucking his ass, fingers pushing in alongside.
"More. More. Fill me. Fuck." He could demand now, Dee was strong, need and want able to match his own.
"Yeah." Hot and heavy, Dee slid up over his back, hand closing over his just as he found the lube, tearing it away from him. Before he could even blink, Dee had his hole wet, had that long cock pushing right into him, opening him up so wide.
Amethyst shoved himself back, muscles in his thighs turning to knots, nearly aching as he begged, rode, felt.
Dee simply slammed him, hips pushing so strong. So good. Not like before. That time in the shower on the bus, when he thought he'd lost Dee to the road, that was long gone now. Now there was this music, this amazing thing that just told him what color his world should be.
Dee tugged him up, his ass settling in Dee's lap as they bounced and rocked, worked together, both of them moaning as Dee sang. "Home. Home, Dee."
"Ours." Pushing up into him again and again, Dee sang him a song about how good it was to be home, how he'd made a wonderful place for them, how much Dee adored him.
"Love!" He tugged his cock, balls drawing tight, entire body arching as he barreled toward the finish.
"Mine. My Ami." Dee bit down on him, on his shoulder right above the blade, the pain blooming bright lavender.
He came in yellows and reds, Dee filling him with pure violet heat. Yes. Yes. Dee's. His. Theirs.
They flopped down, both of them at once empty and full, the perfect balance. Dee patted him, humming again.
"Mmm. Music. We should get dressed later. I want fondue." He could lick cheese and chocolate from Dee's skin. "In a private room."
"Oh, hell yes, luv." Dee liked that too. "Cheese. Those little bread things. Chocolate." Dee echoed his thoughts so well.
"Mmhmm. Bananas. Apples. You." He grabbed Dee's hand, sucking the callused fingers.
Dee laughed and tickled his cheek. "Strawberries almost look like paint when we squish them." Those gray eyes danced, so full of life.
"Yes. Strawberries. Blueberries. Raspberries. Oh." Raspberries. The deep purplish red smeared across Dee's skin...
"Oh. We could get some of those to bring home. Play tribal ritual."
"I knew I loved you for a reason, babe." Dee kissed him, then, and the song that rose between them told him that Dee loved him for a lot more than the sheets.
That song wrapped around him, around them both and his eyes caught by a streak of bright paint on the curve of Dee's shoulder, the blue sliding into violet.
end
Birthstones: Amethyst in the Key of D
Copyright © 2006 by Rob Knight
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.
Printed in the United States of America.
Torquere Press electronic edition / February 2006
Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.
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