Angel Dust

A/N: Okay, so I have to give credit where it's due - this chapter was heavily inspired by one of my favorite chapters in Vera Roberts's story, Let Love Go. The chapter is called "Stratusfaction Garunteed," if you're familiar with the story. And if you're not, check it out - it's a great story by a truly gifted writer. While I haven't ripped it off by any means, I have to admit that it was squarely in my mind when I wrote this. While there is no actual "sexual content" in this chapter, there are references. Enjoy!

"If it doesn't look like anything, that means it's abstract, right?" Courtney asked as she considered the painting on the easel before her. "It doesn't necessarily mean that it's total bull shit?"

Nitro took a sip of his beer and flipped a quesadilla on the stove as he smiled at the woman in the middle of his studio. The sun had long since set, but the moonlight poured in the windows behind her, and the way it lit her blond hair made her look angelic. The way her nose scrunched as she held the paintbrush and looked back and forth between him and the work before her was adorable. And the way her little halter top hugged her breasts and her baggy sweat pants sat low on her hips, her toned midriff exposed, was more than alluring.

"Art is in the eye of the beholder, Court," he reminded, leaning against the counter to study her once again. "Bull shit is subjective."

"Well, subjectively?" She cast a final look at the painting and then dropped the brush in a cup beside the easel. Hopping down the step and moving toward the kitchen, she shook her head. "I think I might be the worst artist ever," she added with a laugh.

He watched as she sat on a stool at the kitchen table and ran her hands through her messy ponytail. It had been nearly a week since their first heavy conversation in his kitchen, and Courtney had been there for dinner every night since. With Randy out of town, she said she didn't want to be at home alone, and Nitro had been more than willing to offer her a haven.

Shaking his head, he sat a plate in front of her and popped the cap on a beer bottle for her. "You have undeveloped potential," he said, turning back to get his own food.

"Undeveloped? That just means that I got no talent, right?" He smiled when she nodded over her shoulder to one of his pieces hanging on the wall. "I can recognize great art, no problem. But creating it? Wow." She laughed again, catching his eye and blushing.

As they ate, the conversation was simple and relaxed. Since Courtney's confession, they had shared a lot of stories and philosophies that kept them up until the wee hours of the morning. A few days during the week, they had seen the sun come up as they debated a political issue or the latest VH-1 countdown show.

More and more, Courtney found herself craving the comfortable friendship they were cultivating. She missed Randy, missed his warm hands and his deep, rumbling voice. But Nitro helped take the edge off, and she was grateful to have him around. The fact that his body was a sculpted work of art in itself didn't hurt, either.

After dinner, they sat their dishes in the sink and Nitro headed back to the studio. "Ya know what I think the problem is?" he asked as he approached her work.

Courtney had to laugh again. Her painting was really awful. She wasn't afraid to admit it. "That it sucks?" she asked.

"You're trying too hard," he explained, holding out a hand for her to join him.

Stepping back up to the easel, Courtney took the brush from him and rolled her eyes. "I don't think we can save it, Doctor," she whispered sadly, shaking her head.

Standing behind her, Nitro held her hand and the brush, guiding it toward the canvas. "Stop thinking," he whispered in her ear. "Close your eyes." He peered over her shoulder to see that she was following his instructions. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he relaxed his grip on her hand and allowed her to dictate the pace of the brush strokes. "Clear your mind," he instructed.

Courtney felt her breath hitch at his proximity. His skin was warm against hers, his breath hot on her neck. Without even looking at the canvas, she led their hands around in long, deliberate strokes. Her body relaxed against his chest as his free hand rested on her hip. The sexual tension that had been building between them for weeks was beginning to boil over, and they could both feel it.

RING!

"Shit," Courtney shrieked as her insistent cell phone cried out, breaking the stillness of the moment. Handing the paintbrush to Nitro, she reached toward the table and picked up the vibrating phone. "Hey, baby," she smiled.

"Hey you," Randy's rich baritone flowed through the phone. "You don't know how good it is to hear your voice right now," he chuckled slightly.

With a sigh, Courtney leaned against the table and dragged her finger over the table, keenly aware of Nitro's presence behind her. She could hear the silent whisper of the brush against the canvas, and she fought the distraction while trying to focus on the man she was supposed to be missing like crazy. "You, too," she responded.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, baby?" Randy asked, a hint of concern in his voice at her tone.

Shaking her head, Courtney closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. "No, of course not." Swallowing, she licked her lips and took a deep breath. "So what are you doing?"

He laughed softly. "Well, I was trying to work, but now that I'm hearing your sexy voice," he hinted and Courtney heard him shifting around.

The thought of Randy, stretched out on some hotel bed, thinking about her, made her smile in spite of herself. Before she could ask what he was going to do, she felt a cool moisture on her lower back. Casting a glance over her shoulder, Courtney narrowed her eyes.

Nitro was crouched behind her, paintbrush in hand as he carefully, slowly, worked it over her exposed skin. He looked up, put his finger over his lips, and shook his head. "Don't mind me," he mouthed.

She gave him another warning glare. "Baby?" Randy's voice made her jump. Nitro gave her a look that said to stay still as she sighed and turned back toward the window again.

"I'm here," she whispered as the brush moved over the small of her back gently.

"Are you sure this isn't a bad time, Court?"

Knowing that she wasn't going to be able to talk to Randy while Nitro was playing with her lower back, she turned, staring at the man on the floor with an unamused frown. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just interviewing some more help tomorrow, so I'm trying to get familiar with these applications," she lied, putting a finger to her lips when Nitro began to make a "tsk, tsk" sound.

"Ah," Randy answered. "Well, I should get some work done, too. But I have some good news."

Nitro stood to his feet and moved closer. "No," Courtney mouthed, swallowing a gasp when he put one hand on her hip and dragged the brush over her smooth stomach. "Really?" she asked Randy, a little louder than she had intended. "What is it?"

"I'm coming home Sunday."

"Randy, that's awesome!" she giggled for good measure, closing her eyes as she absorbed the information. Nitro was now focused on painting what appeared to be a small flower around her navel, and the sensations were making her body temperature soar. But Randy was coming home, safe and excited to see her. That was all she had really been wishing for over the last few weeks, wasn't it?

The man on the other end of the phone smiled. "I know you wanted to go to that EPA fundraiser together on Saturday, baby, but I got the first flight out that I could, and it doesn't leave until Sunday morning."

Shaking her head, she licked her lips as Nitro's fingers held her left hip steady while the brush made swirling motions over her right side. "It's all good, baby," she assured Randy, her head tilting back slightly at the sensations shooting up her body.

"I'll call you later this week with the details, okay?" Courtney moaned a soft response. "Four more days, Court. I can't wait to see you again, baby." She giggled. "Can't wait to show you just how fucking much I've missed you."

She groaned again as Nitro's fingers found the hem of her shirt and pushed it higher up her stomach. His brush was attentive to every inch of exposed skin, and she was loving it. Randy's seductive voice in her ear and Nitro's expert brush strokes on her body were driving her crazy. "It's gonna be great, baby."

There was a low rumble from Randy's end of the phone, and Courtney could nearly see him in her mind's eye, his hand moving down his chiseled chest, heading for the erection her voice was encouraging. When she opened her eyes to find Nitro's gaze fixated on her face, her knees began to shake.

Suddenly, Randy muttered, "Son of a bitch." Courtney shook her head, the moment interrupted. "Baby, I gotta go. Lashley's freakin' out at the door," he explained.

Nitro stood as she said good bye, returning his attention to her painting, as though the last few minutes hadn't even happened. Courtney dropped her phone on the table and considered him for a minute. "Why'd you stop?" she asked.

He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, a slight pink tint creeping up his neck. "Seemed like the mood was broken," he answered honestly, biting his lip as he focused on the canvas before him.

She watched him for another moment, her mind reeling. Randy was coming home in a few days, and that could only mean that her time with Nitro would be severely diminished. He had served his purpose, kept her company while her man was away. On Sunday, her life would return to normal – she would be with Randy, and things would continue as though this week had never happened.

But she didn't want to forget. She didn't want to pretend like it had never happened. Her hands moved of their own accord as she reached behind her neck to untie the strings of her halter top, careful to avoid the paint on her body as she slid it over her head.

Nitro turned, trying his best to remain unaffected as she pushed her pants over her hips and let them pool at her feet. "What are you doing?" he asked as she removed her bra and then stepped out of her panties, standing completely naked in front of him. "Courtney," he began, his voice catching as he studied her in the lighting from the moon outside the large windows of his studio.

She said nothing, only ran her fingers over the damp paint on her midsection, her eyes beckoning him closer.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, his body moving toward her even as his words contradicted his actions. "Your boyfriend will be home in a few days," he reminded.

Courtney nodded and reached out, wrapping a thin hand around the brush in his fingers, pulling him closer. "We need to finish this now, then," she whispered, raising the brush in his hand to her neck and dragging it slowly from the hollow of her throat to the valley of her breasts. "Please, Johnny."