Chapter 18
Hailey
M y heart ached. The mere fact that someone was hitting on Bryan made my heart sink to my stomach. He was an attractive man, and I knew it would eventually happen to us, but it didn’t sting any less. I didn’t want him to worry about that, though. Eventually, none of that would matter. And it was a good thing that someone was hitting on him and that someone had expressed interest in him. That meant he would have a lover to run to whenever I was gone. That meant he would have someone to help him get over me. But still, the need to stake some sort of sexual claim was still there. While I was living, I wanted him to make sure he knew he was mine. While I was still here and breathing, I wanted him to know how much I loved him, no matter how much my death would end up hurting him. I watched his bewildered face as I pulled out the tarp. I could see the imprint of his thickness in his pants slowly dwindling, but it wouldn’t be that way for long. I’d had this idea for us for a while, but I’d never gotten around to it. After the fight and all the stuff that happened in between, and then me getting sick, I hadn’t had the opportunity to bring it up to him. Life had become such a whirlwind of milestones and setbacks and upheaved emotions that it became hard to find little slivers of time where we could indulge in this type of artistic expression. Nighttime had draped heavily over the city of San Diego, and the paint I had for us would match perfectly. A sparkling navy blue and a deep black can of paint sat in the closet waiting for me to pry it open so we could use it. I spread the tarp over the dark hardwood floors of my apartment, and all the while, the stars twinkled above our heads. The moon was cascading in through the few open windows I had, illuminating the area where I’d laid everything down. I had to chuckle at Bryan’s bewildered stare. I dashed over to my closet and pulled out a massive canvas. I unrolled it and laid it out, stomping on it so it would lay flat before I dragged the two small cans of paint out of the closet as well. I looked up at Bryan as he watched me, his eyes still fixated on my bald head as my heart hammered in my chest. Somehow, I got the feeling he was slowly putting two and two together. “What is all this?” he finally asked. “It’s a canvas,” I said, grinning. “Have you learned nothing with me?” “Ha. Ha. I mean, what are we doing with it?” he asked. “We’re going to make love on it,” I said plainly. Now, the look on his face was less shocked and more confused. His brow furrowed deeper and his cheeks started to flex. He cocked his head slightly to the side while he tried to process how in the world this would work, and in that moment, I committed his entire form to memory. He looked so innocent and so awestruck, and I wanted to remember him like this, learning something new despite all the pain and horror he’d been through and experiencing something for the first time, just with me, despite his experience with women. Somehow, in that snapshot, his tattoos seemed a little more innocent, and his muscles seemed a little less primal and a little less intimidating. In that moment, he was no longer looking at me like I was sick but looking at me like I was an artist again. The tarp and the canvas practically covered my living room floor. Bryan helped me move my furniture out of the way, so we could spread it out. Then, I went to grab the cans of paint. He stopped me, putting his arm out while his curious eyes connected with mine. Then he grabbed the small body-safe paint buckets and put them up on my paint-splattered coffee table. “That’s a pretty big canvas,” he said. “You’re a pretty big boy,” I said, winking. That carnal desire came pouring back into his eyes, and I reveled in the fact that I could still make him feel that way. “So, what happens from here?” he asked. “Well, I know I have a tendency to focus more on conventional beauty when it comes to my artwork, but there have been some odd things I’ve wanted to try as of late,” I said. “I can tell,” he said, grinning. “Still don’t like the bald?” “It’s growing on me. I’m thinking about getting you some silk scarves or something to wrap around your head. Not to cover it up, but to give you another way to express yourself.” My heart leaped at the thought. That was one of the many things I loved about Bryan. He was always so supportive of whatever I chose to do. He understood how deep-seated the need was to express myself in everything I did, and instead of walking all over it or teasing me for it, he simply supported it any way he could. “I love you,” I said. The carnal desire leaked from his face, and in its place flooded an innocent look while his hand reached out to cup my cheek. “I love you, too, Hailey.” We stood there for a longtime, simply staring at one another. Bryan stepped toward me, ignoring the canvas he was walking on, before he slid his arms around my body. He tucked my head underneath the crook of his neck, almost as if he was wanting to safeguard me from some impending storm. His strong, chiseled arms, riddled with their tattoos and bulging with its veins, caressed my back and held me close while he hummed the most beautiful tune in my ear.
Then, our bodies began to sway.
I curled into him, allowing my hands to grip the fabric of his shirt. I clung to him while he slowly swayed in circles, dancing to the tune he was humming deep in my ear. I closed my eyes and allowed a tear to flow free. I allowed myself to soak in the moment without giving one thought to the fact that I was dying. My head wasn’t pounding, and my side wasn’t aching. My stomach wasn’t roiling with nausea, and my joints didn’t ache. Right then, I finally felt normal again, and the very feeling caused a stark emotional reaction I wasn’t ready for. I felt myself shaking against Bryan, and he held me tighter than I’d ever felt him hold me before. I knew he wanted to ask questions. I could feel them rolling around in his chest cavity. His heartbeating against my cheek, his very life force reminding me of the one that was dwindling from my body. I clutched the fabric of his shirt so tightly, I thought I was going to puncture holes in it. His hands began running up and down my back, massaging my twitching muscles while more tears began to slip down my cheeks. I turned my face into his shirt and wiped my tears, trying to conceal the happiness and sadness and fear I was experiencing all at once. And if he realized what I was doing, he made no move to show he knew. The song he was humming finished, but our bodies didn’t stop swaying. I relaxed into him while our bodies slowly came to a stop, and as we stood there in the moonlight, I felt his hands slowly make their way up my shirt. The palms of his hands were so warm against my cool, clammy skin, and he ran his fingertips up my spine, causing me to shiver in my shoes. He unsnapped my bra with expert precision before he slowly worked my shirt above my head. Piece by piece, the two of us undressed one another. His hands ran their way along my body, feeling and caressing every part of me while he helped me out of my clothes. My lips trailed along every line and divot of his muscles, memorizing his strength and rippling detail with my skin. I sighed into him, soaking up his body warmth until the two of us were standing naked with one another. Then, I felt him crook his finger underneath my chin and pull my gaze up to his. “Where do we go from here?” he asked. “We’ll open those two cans of body paint and paint each other’s bodies. Then, we lie on the canvas and make love. Tonight, we’re the paintbrushes.” “Our love will create its own abstract art,” he said, grinning. “Precisely.” “Will we be using paintbrushes to cover ourselves?” he asked. “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “We’ll be using our hands and fingers to paint each other down. But don’t worry, it’ll come off easily in the shower.” “Sounds like a two-for-one special,” he said, chuckling. “Only for you, Bryan.” He stared at me for a long time, and suddenly, I wanted to tell him everything. I felt all the words I wanted to tell him right on the tip of my tongue. His hand came up and cupped the back of my head, feeling the smooth skin that was once covered in hair while I battled my own body. I battled a heart that wanted to scream out to him and a mind that wasn’t ready. I battled a heart that wanted to tell him the truth and a mind that wanted to continue concealing the lie. Every part of me wanted his comfort to be because he was standing beside me through this instead of standing oblivious to it. But I didn’t want to ruin this moment. I didn’t want to ruin the fondness in his eyes with this disgusting illness. Silently, Bryan reached over and began opening the paint cans. I would’ve had to use a crowbar to get those things open, but all Bryan needed were his fingers and his strength. He popped them open like he was opening a soda, and it made a primal desire rush over me. He
opened both of them without a second thought before dipping his hands into the colors. Then, he placed his hands on my stomach and began to rub. I closed my eyes while he drenched me in paint. His hands meandered everywhere, pulling a wetness from between my legs I knew he could already smell. He covered my stomach and my back. He massaged my breasts, rising them to painful peaks with the shimmering navy blue he dipped his hands into. He crouched down and covered my legs, pressing kisses to the spots of bare skin on my thighs before coating them in paint. He even slid his tongue between my dripping folds before his hands covered those, too. He caressed and massaged and kissed until my entire body was covered, then he still back and marveled at his creation. The smile that crossed his face was intoxicating, and my hands shook as I readied them to paint onto him. One by one, I covered each of his muscles, sighing with their pulsing strength underneath my fingertips. His rippling arms were covered one at a time before I migrated to his chest, pressing kisses to each of his prominent abs before the black took over his body. Since he had covered me in nothing but the blue paint, I would cover him in nothing but the black. Our intermingled colors would be reminiscent of our intermingled juices, flowing along the canvas and painting a visual representation of the love we held between our bodies, between our hearts, and between our spirits. I coated his body with paint before he gave me one more coat. My body was on fire, shaking with the electricity coursing through my veins. I could feel the paint drifting down my body while we lathered each other up in it, the excess residue already leaking onto the canvas underneath our bare feet. Then, when we were both done, I looked up at him and smiled. “Let’s just take it slow,” I said. “Take our time.” “Hailey,” he said as he stepped closer to me, “there will never be a moment where I don’t take my time with you.”
My knees caved underneath me from the intensity of his gaze, and his arms shot out to catch me. He slowly lowered us to the canvas, his lips connecting with mine as his hands braced against the canvas. I felt my back lower to it, creating the first of many imprints while our tongues slowly danced with each other’s, and soon our artwork started to come to life.
Our bodies rolled around while we caressed one another’s bodies. My lips began to swell against his while our tongues battled for dominance, our bodies rolling the other over to try and stay on top. His hands caressed down my sides and gripped my hips, trying to gain control while I fought him for it. My entire body was coursing with sexual energy, and every fiber of my being was in tune with the sounds and spectacles from Bryan’s body.
Despite being bald and despite being sick, never in my life had I felt more beautiful. Never in my life had I felt more desired than this moment. While our bodies slowly maneuvered over the canvas, creating a beautiful piece of artwork I knew would stun a city to its knees, the only thing I could think about was how perfect Bryan’s body slid between my legs. His hands massaged my breasts, stroking my body into a consumable flame as it threatened to ignite the fabric we were rolling around on.
Then, I felt his thickness at my entrance.