Justin writhed and squinted awake, reached for alien warmth, another body, his body, but came up empty. He frowned and wiped away the sleep and fragments of what he was now realizing must have been a dream from his eyes.

Hazel orbs dark with desire burning into him, rough hands and a hot wet mouth sliding over every inch of his body, exploring. His hard, leaking, throbbing cock squeezing into deliciously tight chasms. Soft sighs, desperate moans. Urgency spreading in an electric fog through his body, his mind, his heart.

Justin shut his eyes tight, trying with sheer willpower to push away the ache his dream lover had caused with his presence and then departure. He wanted to swallow it down, but, instead, it radiated outward on pleading words.

Come closer. Closer. Closer still. Until everything beyond is out of focus and we're a blur. No part of you or I distinct.

Justin fell back onto the bed, mentally berating himself for his slip, his headlong plunge, back into the hopeless romanticism and sentimentality that he'd spent twelve years extricating, purging, from himself. Ripping out all his silly dreams one by one like shards of glass embedded deeply in his skin.

Maybe an orgasm would do the trick. The intense heat licking, curling, and shuddering through him would empty his mind, send the fuzzy strands of his dream careening toward oblivion. Justin wet his lips as he slid his hand down to his now painful erection. He gripped his dick hard, swiped the precum off his slit, and started stroking himself. Fast. The sooner he forgot the better. He moaned softly and arched his back up off the tangle of sheets and blankets. Unbidden, images of his fantasy boy rose and then fell as one quickly replaced another. The boy dropping to his knees and deepthroating his cock, his hands on the boy's hips as he pounded into him in the dark, a jumble of lips and tongues forming kisses that seared through him, and whispering words that burned through him even hotter and then ice cold, sending his heart plummeting.

You're so beautiful.

I love you.

You're mine now.

Justin mewled and then let out a strangled moan as his body froze, mid stroke, midair, cum shooting and falling and then dripping in ribbons of white.

Suddenly, a voice like warm honey floated toward him.

"You're so beautiful."

But this time it wasn't coming from inside Justin's head.

Justin, incredulous, eyes wide, breathed, "Brian…"

*************

I exclaimed softly, "Brian, I thought you'd gone…" Inside, I was doing back flips. Last night had been real. So real.

Brian swallowed hard, and I knew why. His dick was fully erect and leaking. I smiled brightly. He must have enjoyed the show. He shook his head gently and confessed, "I woke up while you were still sleeping. I was curious…I couldn't help looking around." Then he asked, "You're a painter?"

I nodded absently and crooked a finger. I was suddenly dying to demonstrate my superior cock-sucking skills. My heart started to race when I realized that no one else's lips had ever been wrapped around Brian's cock. I loved the idea of being his first everything. When a little voice inside me added "his last, his only," I grimaced slightly (although I caught myself, I hoped, quickly enough that Brian hadn't noticed). I knew, all too well, that relationships didn't last. (Still, I couldn't prevent my heart from leaping at the thought that I was in a relationship, of sorts, with Brian, not even with the mantra, "He's a kid, just a kid with silly romantic notions."). I had never had a relationship of more than a few months, and I knew that even long-term relationships seldom, if ever, lasted a lifetime. My best friends, Emmett and Daphne, had both been in a few, but they had all ended eventually, usually with screaming and some degree of property damage, and my parents' marriage had crashed and burned after almost two decades. If people were managing forever, they weren't people I knew.

I smiled again when Brian flushed and headed my way. Despite his initial (and obvious) unease, after a beat or two, he moved toward me confidently, with a feline grace and burning eyes. Even though I had climaxed but a few moments ago, my cock was again standing at attention. I shivered. If nothing else, we were going to have tons and tons of incredible sex.

When Brian reached my side, I flipped him onto his back, threw his legs up onto my shoulders, and leaned down. I licked a finger, drawing the flat of my tongue along it, circled the top with the tip of my tongue, and then took it into my mouth, sucking on it hard and getting it good and wet with saliva. Brian had been watching me rapt, and when I'd taken it all into my mouth, he'd whimpered. I smiled around my finger and then pulled it out and moved my arm so that I could trace Brian's entrance with my saliva-slick finger. Brian moaned softly. Then I did what I had done to my finger to Brian's cock (all the while tracing circles around his entrance), drawing the flat of my tongue along the bottom of his cock, from base to head, drawing it over Brian's slit and then tracing the head with the tip of my tongue, and sucking on the head for a minute before finally drawing his entire cock into my mouth, sucking on it even as I licked patterns on his shaft. Brian eyes had not left me, but they were nearly closed, and he was panting. I paused for a moment to waggle my eyebrows at him and then proceeded to suck his cock again, this time like he only had a minute or two to live and I was desperate to send him out with a bang. I also pushed my finger inside Brian and curved it back toward me until I touched his prostate. The second my finger grazed it, Brian shouted ("Oh!!! Ohhhhhhhh, Justin!") and shot his load in my mouth. I gulped it down greedily and continued to suck on his cock softly until the aftershocks subsided.

Then I crawled beside Brian and lay on my back. When he exclaimed, "That was fucking HOT!" I giggled and smiled like the cat who got the canary. Then I rolled to my side and gazed at Brian, who had rolled onto his so that he was facing me. I couldn't stop myself from running my fingers through his chestnut hair, now damp with sweat. Brian looked down at the bed, playing with the edge of the duvet for a moment, but then looked up and asked, "Would you paint me?"

I smiled and replied eagerly, "Sure!"

He tensed at my enthusiasm, which puzzled me at first. But then, he inquired, a slight edge to his voice, "Do you paint everyone you fuck?"

His eyes were suddenly cold.

I couldn't help but smile. Brian pushed my hand away and rolled onto his back.

I laughed softly. "Brian, look at me."

He didn't move.

"Please…"

He turned his head back to face me, but slowly, and his eyes were still cold.

I whispered huskily, "No. I never have, and…I never will.

The implication was not lost on Brian. His eyes widened in surprise.

He asked nervously, "You've never painted a lover before?"

I shook my head. His eyes melted, turning a beautiful caramel color. He murmured, "Justin" against my lips and thrust his tongue into my mouth and kissed me passionately. I moaned softly and pulled him on top of me, kissing him back hungrily. I was fucked. No one had ever intoxicated me the way this boy did, and I had a sneaking suspicion that no one ever would.