Drawn: A Hammer Novel Read online

  “You’re very colorful, aren’t you?” Harrison’s finger slid across his left nipple.

  “Professional hazard.” His nipple went rock hard, and Harrison chuckled, flicking his nipple, sending a shock through him. He gasped, eyes going wide. “We should eat.”

  “Okay.” Harrison’s grin was smug, knowing.

  He didn’t respond to it, though. No way. This was his studio. He was in control.

  Harrison grabbed a pair of chopsticks and lifted some noodles from the pad Thai, offering them to him. He opened up, his stomach reminding him suddenly that he hadn’t eaten all day. Harrison hummed as he fed Giles the noodles.

  Spicy, warm, slick. “Yum.”

  Leaning in, Harrison licked at his lips, partway into his mouth. “Oh, that is good.”

  He nodded, that odd, off-kilter, off-center feeling hitting him again.

  Another box was opened and a peanut shrimp was put into his mouth.

  “Mmm.” God, that was good. Bright. Delicious. Yellow. Maybe orange.

  Again, Harrison leaned in and stole a taste right off his lips. “One more box to try.”

  “Oh. Yes. Please.” More tastes. This one was sweeter, the taste of coconut filling his mouth. Chicken, it was some sort of chicken dish. The whip of heat as he swallowed came as a surprise.

  “I like that one.”

  “What do you like about it?” Harrison offered him another bite before he could answer. The heat caught him again and he moaned, fingers itching to paint that feeling.

  Harrison dove into a kiss with him, the hot tongue cooling the heat of the chicken. His fingers were covered in paint; he couldn’t touch Harrison. It was maddening.

  Backing off, Harrison fed him another shrimp.

  “Thank you. I should wash up.”

  “No, I think I like you like this.”

  “What?” No?

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Harrison fed pad Thai noodles into his mouth. He would have argued, but his mouth was full. And it stayed full, Harrison feeding him bite after bite of food.

  Finally he slipped back, shook his head. “Full. Never eat so much.”

  “You should, you’re too skinny.”

  “Nonsense. It’s a great look on me.”

  “So’s the paint.” Harrison’s fingers traced a line of paint from his collarbone down past his ribs. His eyelids got heavy, and he moaned. “You’re a sexy beast, you know that?”

  Giles chuckled. He’d heard that before.

  Harrison popped another shrimp in his mouth.

  He ate it, frowned. “No more.” He’d get fat. Lazy.

  “You can’t be full.”

  “I told you no more.”

  “But I don’t believe you. Why are you starving yourself?”

  He stepped away, shaking his head. “I’m working. Go away.” He wasn’t talking anymore.

  “No, I’m here now. You can work when I go.”

  “Go away. You’re stressing me out.” He frowned, scratching his arm.

  Harrison frowned right back. “Stop that.” His hands were taken, pulled behind his back.

  He looked at Harrison, growling deep in his chest. “You let me go!”

  “No. You need someone to make sure you eat, to make sure that you remember your body.”

  “I’m working. Go away.” What the fuck was going on?

  Harrison let go of Giles’ hands and crossed his arms over his chest, not seeming to care that he had paint all over his hands and shirt now, looking for all the world like an immovable statue. “No.”

  “What? Have you lost your mind?” The words sounded odd, coming out of his mouth.

  “Absolutely not. I just know what you need. I can see how you operate, and I can offer you something different, something better.”

  “I’m working. You’re not real. I can make you not real. I don’t let people come here!”

  “Giles.” Harrison’s voice was sharp, immediate, snapping out into the air. His eyes met Harrison’s and he took a deep breath out of pure shock. “I understand you more than you think I do. I know you have things that drive you, that make you do stuff like this.” Harrison reached out and touched the scars on his chest, several of them clear, even through the paint.

  “Shh.” He shook his head. He didn’t talk about those.

  “No. I don’t believe in pushing things under the proverbial carpet.” Harrison touched another one. “These are here. You did this to yourself. I can show you something more intense, more rewarding.”

  “Please stop. I have to work now.” He stepped forward, then back.

  “I’m not going to stop. You need me.” Harrison stepped forward as well, then again, making him back up.

  “This is my space...”

  “Making it a safe place to do this. Or you can come back to mine.”

  “You’re a sweet man...” Right?

  Harrison snorted. “Yours or mine, Giles?”

  He shook his head, refusing to answer. Refusing to do this.

  Harrison stepped up to him, hand going behind his neck, tilting his head. He could see the kiss coming, Harrison’s eyes heated, aroused. All the sound in his head eased, quieted. Stilled.

  Then Harrison’s lips were on his, hot and sure, taking command. None of today’s earlier kisses had been like this, and Giles was caught in it. Harrison’s tongue pushed into his mouth, explored. Harrison was tasting him, and Giles stood there, caught, almost trapped. The kiss went on and on, Harrison not giving him a single quarter.

  By the time Harrison’s mouth left his, Giles was dazed, blinking.

  “Bed,” growled Harrison, gaze never leaving his.

  He pointed to the back corner, the futon there. His napping spot.

  One of Harrison’s eyebrows went up. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “What?”

  “Your real bed, where is it?”

  “That is where I nap. This is my home.”

  “It’s where you nap, but where do you sleep?”

  He stepped away from Harrison, the chill hitting him again, the knowledge that he didn’t belong in the world with anyone else, that he needed to go. “I told you already. It’s right there.” This was wrong, to let Harrison in here.

  “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just a small, hard bed.”

  He shook his head. “This is my place. People don’t belong here.” He headed for the door.

  Harrison grabbed hold of his arm, pulled him close. “I’m not people.”

  “We have to go. You have to go, hmm?” He couldn’t do this. He didn’t belong in everyone else’s world.

  “No. I’m not going to let you chase me away. You need me. You need what I can give you.”

  He shook his head. “Later. Later, we can hook up.”

  “I don’t want to ‘hook up’ with you, Giles. I want to make you fly.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you in.”

  “You should let me in even deeper.”

  “You don’t understand, Harrison.” He led them both toward the door. “I don’t live in the same world.”

  “I know all about living in a different world. I know how to keep you in mine.”

  He shook his head, a little scared now. Harrison was so much. “Go. I’ll call you. Later. We’ll have coffee somewhere.”

  “You can’t always lose yourself in the art.” Harrison touched the scars on his chest again.

  “Not always.” He kissed Harrison’s cheek, opened the door. “I’ll call. Soon.”

  Harrison growled softly. “The only reason I’m going now is because you don’t understand the rules. Next time, you will.”

  “Thank you for the shrimp.”

  He closed the door behind Harrison, locked it. Considered bursting into tears.r />
  Then he threw the food away and went back to work.

  Chapter Five

  Harrison gave Giles two days before he called.

  No one answered the telephone.

  So he gave it another day, and when this phone call wasn’t answered either, he showed up on Giles’ doorstep and buzzed. When that didn’t work, he waited for a neighbor to come down the commen stairs and slipped inside, heading up and knocking hard on Giles’ door.

  The music inside got louder.

  Harrison shook his head and rang the bell at this door several times, followed by more banging. “We agreed to talk, Giles.” The man was going to put himself into an early grave.

  The door opened a crack, a red-rimmed eye peering out at him. “I said I’d call you later. I’m working.”

  He frowned; had Giles had any sleep at all? “It’s more than three days later.”

  “I’m working. What time is it? I could meet you for coffee after I shower.”

  “Or we could shower together. It’s almost seven p.m. Tuesday evening.”

  “I don’t let people in. I shouldn’t have let you in before. You smell so good.”

  “So let me in for smelling good.”

  Giles’ eyebrows lowered. “I’m very tired. Did that make sense?”

  “Of course it made sense, and you need to take a break. I know you won’t take one if I just leave again.”

  “I don’t have a real bed, but that doesn’t matter because you’re not staying. I have a real shower.”

  Harrison chuckled. “I’ll share a real shower with you. And then you can come have a late dinner with me and share my real bed.”

  His -- how he was thinking of the man as “his” already, he wasn’t sure, but he was -- artist blinked at him, then took a step back, letting the door open. “Watch out for the paint.”

  The studio was filled with canvases -- huge, amazing, colorful pieces that battered at the eyes, at the soul.

  There were a ton more now than there had been three days ago. He was sure of it now; Giles hadn’t slept at all in the time between his visits. And somehow he knew that this was how it usually was.

  Giles must have lost five pounds in the three days, too. The man’s fingernails were torn, there were bruises on his arms -- it was like he’d been in a fight.

  Harrison reached out automatically, fingers light on Giles’ bruised skin. “What happened to you?”

  Giles looked. “I don’t know. I was working.”

  “You did this to yourself.” He shook his head. Giles needed him. There was no question of that.

  “I. Was. Working.”

  “And that’s an excuse to abuse yourself?”

  “Shh. I’m going to take a shower so we can have coffee.” Giles headed toward the back of the studio, weaving toward a set of double doors. Harrison followed, enjoying the sway of Giles’ ass, the bare back somehow covered in paint.

  The doors opened to expose a stark bathroom with the biggest shower he’d ever seen. God, he needed one of these. There were three different showerheads and different angles. Utter decadence. Especially in the otherwise austere surroundings.

  Giles stripped down out of his jeans, exposing himself without a hint of worry. Paint and cuts, bruises and marks covered the gaunt body. Those marks should have been made by him. Giles was his. The possessive emotion was strong and sure. Giles was his.

  The water started, Giles stumbling into the spray, face lifted to it. Harrison pulled off his own clothes and stepped in behind Giles, pressing up against the willowy body. He let one hand slide down, rub along the lean belly.

  “You have special soap for the paint?”

  “Just scratch it off. No big.” Giles grabbed the bar soap and a rough scrubber, attacking his body.

  “Whoa.” He took the soap and the scrubber for Giles’ hands. Scratching it off by hand would be preferable to this. Or scraping it off with the edge of a sharp knife.

  He took Giles’ hands and brought them up to the top showerhead. “Hold on and don’t let go.”

  “Huh?” Giles held on, the paint mostly flaking off with the pressure of the water.

  He used his nails on the rest, slowly working the paint off Giles’ skin, making sure the man had plenty of sensation when he did it. It told him something, how Giles moaned, held on, the look on the man’s face peaceful. He took his time; anyone who had a shower this big had a hot water heater to match.

  The pale skin turned pink, and Giles’ tension dissolved. Oh, he had a sub here. A needy, desperate man. Harrison got the last of the paint off and then took Giles’ mouth. Giles opened to him, kissed him slowly, lazily, so he deepened the kiss in small increments, letting it build.

  Giles’ hands lowered from the shower head, arms wrapping around Harrison’s shoulders. It made him growl a little, but he allowed it. Next time he’d cuff Giles’ hands to the showerhead and bring a flogger, give his man an added sensation.

  “We should have coffee now.” Giles hummed into his mouth.

  “Coffee and bacon and eggs.”

  “Mmm. Maybe. Not hungry, really.”

  “You need to eat, though.” He stroked his fingers across Giles’ belly, the man so thin.

  “Maybe. After coffee.”

  He snorted. He thought maybe with coffee. Or before coffee. And after coffee. But first things first.

  He took Giles’ mouth again, his body beginning to get eager. Giles hummed, hand sliding down his belly to circle his cock. Yeah, that felt good. So did mirroring the movement, taking Giles’ cock in his hand and tugging firmly.

  Giles leaned against him, trusting his strength. He let his free hand find Giles’ ass and hold on as he jacked the man, thumb working the tip. The ring moved easily, slick against his touch.

  Giles was already decorated like someone’s beloved sub. He needed a Dom in the worst way. And Harrison wanted to be that Dom. He was that Dom.

  He pulled harder on Giles’ prick.

  “Mmm.” Giles’ head fell back, the fingers on his cock moving faster.

  He leaned in to bite at Giles’ neck even as he pressed their cocks together, wrapped both their hands around their pricks so they could get there together.

  Giles came seconds before he did, heat joining the water over his cock. Groaning, he kissed Giles again, lazy this time, but still heated. Giles slumped, moaning into his lips.

  “Mmm. That was nice. We should get out before it gets cold, though.”

  “Uh-huh. Coffee.”

  And food. Whatever food he could get into Giles, but for now he’d just go with coffee.

  Harrison nodded, turned off the shower, and looked for some towels. Giles went to a cabinet, pulled out a towel, and handed it to him. Grinning, he tugged Giles close and began rubbing the man down with the terrycloth. He was fairly rough, working this new sensation all over Giles’ skin. Giles moaned, stretched, accepting each caress.

  “You’re something else, Giles.”

  “Mmm. I need my coffee.” Giles kissed his cheek.

  “I imagine the promise of caffeine is about the only thing keeping you from falling asleep where you’re standing.” He grabbed his clothes and started dressing.

  “I’m good. I’m just fine.” Giles wandered to a dresser, pulled out jeans and a T-shirt.

  No, Harrison didn’t think Giles was good at all, but he knew he could help with that. “Come on. I’m taking you to dinner at my club. I want you to see it.”

  “I thought we were having a coffee.”

  “They have coffee at the Hammer.” He took Giles’ hand and they headed out.

  Giles locked everything, carefully, before following him, staying close.

  Harrison clicked his key fob, unlocking the car.

  “The Hammer? Where is it?”

  Harrison wasn’t sure G
iles even knew what day it was let alone where they were. “In the district downtown. You’ve never been there?”

  “No. No, I don’t think so. I like Magic Java.”

  “The Hammer Club is a members-only club. We can bring guests, though.” He headed the car into the flow of traffic. It wouldn’t take them long to get there.

  “As long as they have coffee.” Focused man.

  Harrison imagined Giles was so tired, that’s all his brain could do. “They have coffee.” He chuckled, pulling into the parking lot.

  “This is an... industrial part of town.”

  “Huh?”

  “The warehouses? It feels industrial.”

  “Ah. It isn’t. It’s all converted space.” He pointed out the stores, the gym, the restaurants.

  Giles’ poor red eyes took it all in. “Neat.”

  “We’re going to the tasteful club right there.” He climbed out and opened the door for Giles. His card was swiped at the foyer, the bouncer waving them in. He put his hand in the small of Giles’ back, guiding him across the floor to the tables.

  “It’s dark in here. I like it.”

  “Good. Ah, here’s a table for two.” He seated Giles and settled in next to the man.

  “There’s no host? No maitre d’? That’s cool.”

  He pointed to where Xavier was working behind the bar. “He manages the place, and if I’d wanted, he’d have seated us. We’re a little late for formality. And it is a Tuesday.”

  “Oh.”

  Xavier waved to him, then the bouncy waiter they all called Happy came over, whistling and bright-eyed. The kid reminded him forcibly of a puppy. “Good evening, Sirs!”

  Harrison chuckled. “Hi there, Happy. It’s a quiet night tonight.”

  “It has been! Which sucks because Chef made yummies.” Happy beamed at him, pretty blue eyes dancing. “Tonight he did tapas, which is neat, but the best part? He made French toast! For supper!”

  Giles laughed softly from beside him.

  He shot Giles a smile before turning back to Happy. “Well, then, we’ll have to have a plate of French toast. Oh, and two cups of coffee, please.”

  “Of course, Sirs. Do you like cream?”

  “No, thank you. I drink it black.” Giles smiled at Happy. “Thank you.”