Once Kelly appeared in the studio, it nullified the tension between me and Evan. I was disappointed; sad that the current of fascination I had toward him was interrupted by someone else.

However, she came up and chatted with us for a few moments, and I was glad to have her around. Evan seemed to relax a little.

I could barely stand his overwhelming conceit. I had just had to put him in his place, to try to channel that thing that I felt when I was drawing him, and only him. The thing that my soul had been starving for for all of these years.

Inspiration.

It was as if my mind was trapped in a box, and for some reason, being around Evan made the walls that had once seemed solid shift to liquid. I was free to bend my imagination around him for some reason.

However, he kept trying to put on a front. And that irked me and disturbed this new freedom.

When I began to pack up my things, I watched as she chatted with him, blush rising into her cheeks. I was sure whenever women talked to him, that happened to them.

“Are you guys just getting started? Can I see what you’ve drawn?” She asked curiously.

“We’re actually just finishing up here,” Evan said. He turned to me and cooly asked, “How many did you get done today, Sam?”

That fuck was trying to expose me; get the upper hand. He didn’t like that I’d taken his power away a moment ago when we were alone.

“Only two for today,” I grimaced, knowing that the quality of those two inks were below what I’d liked them to be. “But we’ll continue tomorrow.”

He raised his eyebrow.

“If that’s okay with you.” I finished, looking him dead in the eye.

He held my gaze for a few seconds, his lips pulling into a grimace. “That’s fine with me. What time?”

As we discussed the logistics, Kelly looked between me and Evan. Poor thing knew something was going on in the undercurrent of our innocent conversation, but she didn’t know what.

“…I’ll see you back at Jake’s tonight,” she said to Evan awkwardly, then backed away.

“Hang on Kelly, I’ll come with you.” He said charmingly, throwing a bright white smile towards her. “I have to get down to central campus anyway. Let’s ride the bus together.”

She flushed, basking in the sunbeams of Evan’s attention. I was sure she was dripping wet.

I narrowed my eyes as they left together. Though I was sure it was Evan’s intention to use Kelly to make me jealous and feel like he had some control after I’d taken it from him, I was pissed off that it was working.

He’s straight, my conscience reasoned. But this wasn’t about wanting him anymore. This was about power; this was about dominance. And there was no way in hell I was going to let some jock come into my territory and usurp me.

It was Saturday, and I had my maid over to get everything tidy last night to get ready for Evan to arrive. It was only natural that he would come to my house; the place where I had my ideal studio set up.

A part of me wondered what he was doing when he wasn’t in my presence.

Swimming, his Instagram said. Though, again, I never saw pictures of him with any girls or anything. It was very, very odd for a straight guy, who was that full of himself, and so famous like that to not have women throwing themselves at him on a regular basis.

I checked the time again. It was still an hour before he would get here. Suddenly, I was seized by caring what Evan thought of me and my living space.

Should he walk in on me cooking? Reading a book on my couch?

I shook my head, waving the thought away.

I was beginning to covet him; obsessing over this impossible man. He came off like he was so very full of himself and had everything going for him, but the way he acted in person was different. There was something he was hiding.

And it would drive me crazy trying to find out what that thing was.

I was nervous to have him in my territory with no one else around. And I wondered if he felt any desire towards me at all.

The way he looked at me back in the classroom, the way he submitted to my commands really got me going. He was surprisingly good at taking orders… for a straight boy.

I needed to do something – anything with my hands. So I got a fresh onion from my expansive kitchen and some steaks out of the fridge. I put the steaks on the stove and began seasoning them, preparing them with care. Once I started cooking them, my house was filled with a warm, welcoming aroma.

Soon, I heard a knock on the door.

Shit, he was early.

I walked over and opened it, to see none other than my muse standing there with a cocky grin on his face.

And just like that, I hated him again.

Still, with a fascination, I greeted him.

“Nice to see you too,” He said, stretching an arm over his head to scratch the back of his head.

God, he looked adorable when he did that.

“Smells good.” He commented, complimenting my cooking and taking a quick glance inside.

I stood to the side, letting him through.

“Wow,” He said, a low whistle escaping his mouth as his lips came together in a delectable “o”

He was looking around my foyer in amazement.

I swelled with pride as he complimented my living space. I had put a lot of work into this, after all.

“Get in here out of the cold.” I commanded in a low, almost threatening tone. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but there was something about Evan that made me feel like I didn’t have as much control over myself as I liked.

“This place is amazing!” He said, ignoring my tone as he stepped through the threshold and into the foyer.

I shut the door, locking out the cold behind him.

He shrugged off his camouflage coat. “Um, is there somewhere I can put this?” He asked.

I nodded and took it, then opened the closet next to the door and filed the coat away among all of the other garments.

“I’ll give you a tour later.” I stated matter-of-factly. “We have to eat soon. Do you like steak?” I asked. As if this were a regular, casual lunch for me.

“I love steak!” He said as his stomach growled.

I swelled with pride knowing that I was going to be the one feeding him; I was going to be the one giving him sustenance. It filled me with a ravenous excitement to be able to satisfy him like that.

“Sit.” I commanded, walking in through my huge kitchen, gesturing at the table in the dining room.

“Is it cool if I sit here?” He asked, striding up to the island where there were four barstools next to the stove.

“Suit yourself.” I said emotionlessly, even though inside I was swelling with delight and curiosity. He wanted to be next to me? While I cooked?

He watched as I poked at the steaks with tongs, and put together a delicious, hearty meal. The steaks were sizzling, filling my house with a delicious, savory aroma.

“So do you make steaks all the time?” He asked.

“I do. I love cooking meat.” I said, then realized what I had implied. Whatever, I’d own up to it.

His eyes got a little larger for a second; or was that my imagination?

“So, how are classes going?” I asked, attempting small talk.

“Oh, they’re going well, I guess. We have to deal with different stuff than you guys have to in the art school.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. But I was used to people looking down on art students at this point. They thought our work was easy. Ha! But they didn’t have to do anything crazy for their majors, like professors arbitrarily deciding that they needed to create 1000 unique pieces.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He said, reading my face carefully. “If anything, I think you guys have it harder.”

I looked up at him, making eye contact. This was new – people usually didn’t acknowledge how much sheer fucking work and determination it takes to be an art student. My father, being one of those people, and he made it known. He came from a blue collar family, who drilled into him that any creative pursuit was a waste of time and money.

Now he was an HVAC engineer or something, no creativity or anything in his boring ass life, and he tried to project that onto me too.

Luckily my mother was there, offering encouragement from time to time.

That was one of my regrets from my life; not having the courage to pursue art full-time. Still though, the money continually flowing in from my business was nice.

Evan blinked innocently, waiting for a response.

“I’m glad you think that.” I offered.

I wasn’t going to let him think that I was going to be charmed so easily. I still knew he was a self-serving, narcissistic jock asshole.

“Do you do any art yourself?” I asked him casually, feeling him out as I prepared some asparagus in a pan. It sizzled and crackled.

“No… I don’t have any artistic skill whatsoever!” He laughed.

The sound was bubbly and charming. Dammit. Damn him.

I watched his features carefully in the light, out of the corner of my eye as I tended to the food.

“It would be hard for me to draw even a stick figure,” Evan continued, beating himself down.

I paused, letting his dig at himself hang in the air. But then I thought that would be too rude, so I replied, “A lot of people don’t give themselves the credit they deserve.” I said carefully, not really sure what to say to make things right. I didn’t want this to turn into a ego-feeding fest, like what happened with most beautiful people. Surprisingly a lot of them were incredibly insecure.

I wondered how secure Evan was. I wondered what was under that jock persona that he put up for everyone to see. I could sense that there was a hint of beauty underneath; something decadent and delicious he was hiding from me. Otherwise, why would I be stricken with a kaleidoscope of inspiration when I drew him?

This one was not like the others. Call it a sixth sense. But there was something more to him.

“Done!” I said, pouring the steaks out onto plates and tucking the crispy asparagus on the sides.

“Looks delicious!” He remarked.

I warmed at the compliment, but tried not to let it show. Still, a smile creeped across my face.

“Let’s sit in here.” I said, carrying the plates into the decadent dining room, the steam from the sizzling steaks spiraling in my wake.

I heard Evan pull his barstool out and follow me.

It was just me and him, this beautiful man, sitting at the dining table. I waited until he took a seat, then served him a plate.

He looked up at me with needing, pleading eyes and said, “Thank you.”

He was grateful. My cock pulsed in my pants. I liked that, and it was so easy to picture those eyes looking up at me as they sucked my cock.

I needed an excuse to go back into the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink?” I asked flatly as I walked into the next room. “Wine? Water?”

“Fuck it, it’s Saturday. Wine please!” He said.

I went into the kitchen and opened the door to the wine cellar, returning with a thick, whole-bodied red pinot noir. It was steak, so the wine had to be red; there was no way around it. I returned to the dining table, a bottle of the thick dark liquid in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. I set the stem of one of them down in front of him and tipped the bottle into it.

“That’s enough, thanks.” He said, grabbing at the stem.

His fingers brushed against mine briefly. A jolt shot through me and I felt my cock twitch and press against my pants. Dammit, just when I’d gotten it to calm down.

Hot desire zinged through my body as he looked up at me again.

“You’re doing that on purpose.” I called him out, my voice low and threatening.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, not breaking his gaze from mine.

Fucking bold, I bristled. He knew the effect he had on me, and it was showing. He was taking my control away from me, and I didn’t like it.

Or did I?

This was completely new territory to me.

We dug into our meal with ravenous hunger, exchanging some small talk. But I couldn’t deny the fire that was burning within me, this animal magnetism I felt for him.

“Clean your plate.” I commanded of him, as I noticed he was slowing down after eating the small steak.

Without a word, he obeyed.

Oh my God, this really got me going. I could barely handle it anymore.

It was driving me fucking crazy, wondering what he was thinking. How could be such a… such a perfect submissive, and dangle himself in front of me like this while being straight? It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair!

“Well.” He said, looking at me with… was that lust in his eyes?

Or was he toying with me? Little prick probably just got a rush of power by dangling himself in front of me like this.

“Should we get started?” He asked, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

I was still sitting, so I reached into my pocket and tucked my stiff, throbbing cock into the waistband of my pants.

“Let’s go.” I said, and got up, taking the plates into the kitchen. Evan was following me. My heart was pounding so hard that I could feel it in my ears. I’m sure my face was red with desire.

I led him through the house to the other side, which had my art studio and the afternoon light pouring in. I was already all set up from my obsessive rearranging of the furniture and making sure it was all ready for him. I also made sure the room was warm, so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable when he got naked for me.

I crossed the room and sat in my chair in front of my easel. Then I looked up at him, the beautiful Adonis in front of me, in my territory, in my studio.

“Take your pants off.” I commanded, my pencil ready.