CHAPTER 11
HARRIS
HARRIS’ heart raced as he moved down the hallway. He had no idea which room was Reid’s, but it wasn’t hard to figure out after peaking in a few of the doorways. Bathroom, cluttered spare room filled with boxes, master at the end of the hall. Pretty standard apartment layout.
Harris kept the overhead light off. A soft glow from an outside streetlight filtering through the window lit his way to the bed. The room looked cozy and simple by design. A dresser stood against the wall adjacent to the door with a flat-screen TV mounted above it, closet doors nestled into the wall beyond it. But what caught Harris’ attention the most was the bed. It was massive, taking up most of the room and flanked on both sides with large, sturdy nightstands. Harris speculated what Reid could possibly have stored in those nightstands and felt his cock twitch in interest.
He tugged his sweater off in one motion, letting it fall to the floor. Reid had seen the scarring on his chest, and no doubt had questions, but it hadn’t scared him off so far. Really, Harris had found it sweet that Reid made sure his health was well enough before things had escalated further.
Warm, heavy hands landed at his waist, tugging him back against the soft fabric of an old T-shirt and a hard chest beneath it. Reid’s breath fluttered over Harris’ ear, making him shudder.
“So confident,” Reid murmured, lust thick in his voice. Harris grinned into the darkness. “And demanding. Drives me crazy.”
Reid’s hands stroked up and over Harris’ back, the callouses scraping ever so slightly against Harris’ skin. His hands came to rest on Harris’ shoulders with a firm grip, and Reid turned him around.
Harris shut his eyes as Reid’s hands traveled down over his chest, tracing over his muscles, nipples, tugging slightly at the hair there. Then his fingers traced his scars lightly, reverently, just for a moment before they moved on. They moved lower, teasing Harris’ ribs, belly, making Harris squirm. The hair that started at his belly button and thickened the further south it went. Harris had flicked open his fly earlier, finding the pressure of his jeans against his own rock hard erection to be too much as he pleasured Reid. He had almost come a couple of times. The sounds that man could make, the flush that rose from his chest, up his neck. Harris could continue to do that until the day he died and be happy.
The sight of Reid’s cock alone had filled Harris’ mouth with saliva. He had been with a few well-endowed men before, but none like Reid. Harris was a bit of a size queen and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He couldn’t wait to feel all that up inside him.
Harris rose up on the balls of his feet to meet Reid’s lips with his. Reid’s fingers dipped below the waistband of his boxers, sending sparks shooting through Harris. Reid moaned, licking into his mouth in the filthiest fashion. It took Harris a moment before he realized that Reid could probably taste himself on Harris’ lips. The idea that Reid actively searched for more of that taste lit Harris on fire.
Resting his hands on Reid’s waist, Harris began to tug at the fabric of his T-shirt. He whined into Reid’s mouth when Reid didn’t move his arms up and over his head to help remove the offending article. Reid’s breath huffed into his mouth on a chuckle before he withdrew.
“Impatient, too,” Reid said.
Harris raised a brow. “That a problem?”
Reid shook his head, then moved his hands from Harris’ waistband. Harris whined again at the loss of contact, prompting another laugh from Reid.
“No pleasing you, is there?” Reid murmured, hooking his fingers beneath his shirt and tugging it swiftly over his head in one motion.
Harris licked his lips at the sight. “Oh, there is,” he said, his voice breathy. “You’ll find out.”
“Come here,” Reid said, hooking his fingers in Harris’ boxers again and pulling him close. He bit at Harris’ lips, the kiss growing heated and frenzied as Reid pushed the last barrier between them down.
Reid’s mouth moved to Harris’ jaw, nipping at the sharp curve. Harris reveled in the scrape of Reid’s facial hair from the day’s growth. Traveling lower, Reid licked and bit down Harris’ neck, who moaned and arched up against Reid, gripping his waist, fingers digging into the flesh.
When Reid pushed Harris back, Harris moaned in disappointment before he realized Reid was guiding him toward the bed. Stepping out of his jeans, Harris rushed backward until he felt the soft fabric of the duvet hit the back of his legs. He lowered himself to the bed, kissing down Reid’s chest in the process, taking his time laving around the nipples, appreciating how pretty they looked when they grew hard as pebbles.
Eventually, it was Reid’s turn to grow impatient, and he pushed Harris back onto the bed, Harris’ abdomen tightened with anticipation. He wished Maggie could see the picture Reid made in that moment. Then she would understand why Harris called him Adonis.
His muscles rippled as he knelt onto the bed, coming to his hands and knees to crawl over Harris. Harris’ cock pulsed up against his abs, a clear pearl beading at its tip. Harris watched as Reid’s eyes narrowed in on it, seconds before he executed a perfect pushup over Harris’ hips and licked at the slit.
“Fuck!” Harris’ hips arched up, seeking more attention, but Reid pushed himself up and away, making a show of licking his lips.
“Delicious,” he said, voice low. Dangerous.
Harris whimpered.
Then Reid moved, kneeling up, abs tight. Harris bit his lip as Reid hooked his arms under Harris’ thighs. Harris fell back against the bedding, his stomach fluttering in anticipation.
Reaching his left arm out, Harris snagged one of Reid’s pillows and propped his head up. Reid’s clean and light scent grew stronger, and Harris’ head spun.
Reid’s lips trailed down first one thigh, then the other, licking soft and slow, his breath hot on Harris’ skin. Harris squirmed, panting through the desire that tightened in his abdomen.
“You taste amazing,” Reid whispered against his skin. “Makes me want to try every inch of you.”
Harris moaned, arousal shooting straight to his cock. “Hurry up,” he said.
“No,” Reid said, his eyes meeting Harris’. Harris could see Reid’s pupils had blown wide, the clear blue of his irises reduced to a sliver.
Reid’s mouth traced the crease of Harris’ thigh and laved his tongue at the tendons there. Harris gave a sobbing breath, arching his hips. Reid’s hands pressed his hips back down onto the bed. Harris gave a thrust, finding himself immobilized. His cock throbbed.
“Reid, please.”
Reid chuckled wickedly in response, his lips tracing over and around where Harris wanted it most. Finally, Reid’s lips settled on Harris’ sack, his tongue licking a hot swipe of moisture. They drew up immediately, Harris’ body growing taut with the promise of orgasm. Then Reid withdrew, bringing a hand up to tug oh so gently.
“Not yet,” Reid said.
“God,” Harris groaned, his frustration clear.
After a few moments, Harris calmed, and Reid’s mouth returned. He licked and sucked, encasing Harris’ balls in a wet heat that had Harris babbling all kinds of nonsense. Harris’ fingers had found their way to Reid’s short blond locks, clenching and tugging to no effect. When the hot ball of tension at the base of his spine contracted once again, Harris yanked at Reid’s hair, pulling him up and away.
“Shit. I can’t…” Harris’ voice broke around the desire. He met Reid’s eyes, and Reid gave him a wicked grin.
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
Harris laughed, rolling his eyes and collapsing back against the pillow behind him. “Cocky sonofabitch,” he muttered. But the tension had fallen away, leaving him feeling both agitated and relaxed.
But instead of returning to Harris’ sack, Reid’s mouth dipped lower, licking at the tender skin beneath.
Harris flinched, the sensation shooting white hot through him. “Holy fuck.”
And finally, finally, Reid’s tongue brushed over that secret spot further below, pressing in ever so slightly before beginning to lick in earnest. Harris felt Reid push Harris’ thighs up further, using those large hands to spread Harris open. Glancing down, Harris saw the reverent look on Reid’s face, as though he had been granted a wish from a genie.
Letting his head fall back, Harris gave himself over to Reid.
Pleasure poured over him. His mind turned blessedly blank, every doubt, every fear, every concern washing away. He gripped at the duvet as Reid’s tongue did wicked things to him. When Reid’s tongue pushed past the relaxed ring of muscle for the first time, Harris shouted Reid’s name, reaching down to stave off yet another orgasm.
Reid withdrew his tongue and lifted his head. Harris mewled at the loss, but the look on Reid’s face was one of glee.
“Next time, I’m going to make you come from my tongue alone,” Reid said. “But not tonight. I have plans for you.”
Harris’ breath caught at the promise.
Reid wanted him for more than one night?
He didn’t know what to think of that. His first reaction was, “Yes, yes, yes!” But he also knew he was too ramped up with desire to be thinking clearly.
Before he could dwell on it any further, Reid slid off the bed and made his way over to the nightstand. Opening the second drawer, he pulled out a large bottle of lube and no less than three condom packets.
Harris lifted an eyebrow at Reid. “Optimistic one, aren’t you?”
Reid shrugged. “Boy scout.”
Harris rolled his eyes and laughed. “Figures. But you do realize that I’m a bit older than you, right? I don’t have a refractory period like you do.”
Reid’s lips widened into a salacious grin. “Challenge accepted.”
His stomach fluttered at Reid’s confidence, and he believed, for just a moment, that Reid could actually make it happen.
Reid knelt back onto the bed, crawling up and over Harris. He trailed kisses up Harris’ stomach, his chest. He kissed Harris’ scar but spent most of his time with Harris’ nipples. Harris arched up to meet Reid’s mouth as he bit and sucked.
The pop of a bottle cap opening met Harris’ ears, and Harris squirmed. Reid continued to bite at his nipples, driving Harris wild. Then a slick, warm finger drifted between Harris’ ass cheeks, nestled itself against Harris’ entrance and began to massage.
Harris let out a noise he would have been embarrassed by under normal circumstances and spread his legs wide, arching his hips up against the contact.
“So responsive,” Reid murmured against his chest. “I wish you could see yourself, Harris.”
Harris groaned as Reid’s finger slipped inside.
Reid made quick work of opening Harris, which was a good thing as Harris was growing more and more impatient. He scratched at Reid’s shoulders, tugged at his hair, cried out louder and louder. He trembled beneath Reid, almost shaking out of his skin.
“Christ, Reid. Now, now, now!”
Harris was half-afraid that Reid would ignore his pleading, but to his surprise, Reid actually moved, settling himself between Harris’ outstretched thighs. He did give a few teasing rubs up against Harris’ length, making Harris’ eyes roll back as he shuddered. Harris heard the rip of a foil packet, then the flick of the bottle cap again, and his eyes shot open, wanting to see the picture Reid made as he slicked himself up.
He was gorgeous. Harris wanted pictures, oil paintings, watercolors, anything. Reid’s large hand stroked over his length, the glistening head popping through the circle of his fingers. Harris’ cock throbbed at the sight, his entrance fluttering with anticipation.
Reid lined himself up and began to press ever so slowly in.
“Breathe, babe,” he whispered to Harris, his voice tight.
Harris laughed, a breathy sound. “Give it to me, come on.”
Reid’s eyes met Harris’, concern coloring his features. “I’m not exactly small, Harris.”
Harris gave him the filthiest grin he could. “I noticed. I can handle it.”
Harris watched as Reid’s eyes shut and his body gave a full-body shudder. Harris hummed in appreciation. Before he could tease Reid about it though, Reid slid further in, stealing Harris’ breath away as his hips pressed flush against Harris’ ass.
“Fuck,” Reid panted, gripping Harris’ thighs hard, no doubt leaving bruises behind. Harris looked forward to those.
Harris sucked in a breath and gave an experimental wiggle of his hips. Reid’s breath caught, and his grip tightened even further.
“Goddammit, Harris. Stop.” Reid’s voice sounded wrecked, broken, even as Reid gave a tiny thrust forward, moving impossibly deeper inside him.
Harris moaned, low and long. “You feel so good.”
“Trust me,” Reid managed, taking a shuddering breath. “I got the better end of the deal.”
Before Harris could retort, Reid withdrew, so slightly, then slammed back home. Stars exploded behind Harris’ eyes, Reid somehow finding that perfect spot within.
“Fuck, right there, don’t stop,” Harris babbled. He couldn’t help himself. It was a thing that happened during sex, much to the dislike of many of his bed partners. He tried to stop it, biting his lower lip hard.
One of Reid’s hands left Harris’ leg and drifted up to Harris’ mouth. Reid caressed Harris’ lip, coaxing it free from the teeth and rubbing it. “I like it when you talk,” he said.
Harris’ heart stuttered at the words.
“Good,” he said, giving Reid a crooked grin. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”
Reid huffed a quick laugh before he pulled his hand away and began to thrust.
Both men groaned, their hands stroking everywhere they could reach. Harris said the dirtiest things that came to mind, egging Reid on with every word. Reid’s face was a beautiful rose color, whether from Harris’ words or the exertion, Harris didn’t know. He didn’t care. He loved it.
That knot of tension at the base of his spine was back and growing tighter and tighter by the moment. Reaching a hand down, Harris took himself in hand, hot and heavy, giving it a hard tug and hissing at the pleasure. But before he could get too into it, Reid smacked his hand away, and his own large hand encircled Harris.
“Come for me, Harris,” Reid bit out, teeth clenched. He angled himself so every thrust created a white-hot bolt of pleasure through Harris. “I want to see you paint your stomach.”
“Holy…” The orgasm crashed over Harris before he could finish speaking, surprising him with its intensity. His vision went white, then black. He gave a guttural groan as he felt his balls contract, releasing their contents in hot pulses.
“Yes,” he heard Reid hiss. Reid’s hand milked him dry as his other hand ran up over his abdomen, spreading the liquid around like a kid with finger paints. “I’m gonna come,” Reid moaned even as his eyes rolled back into his head, and he gave a few more hard thrusts.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Harris said, his breathing labored. Reid fell forward, catching himself on his hands on either side of Harris’ body. He leaned low and caught Harris’ lips with his.
They kissed slowly, reverently. Reid’s tongue invaded Harris’ mouth over and over. Harris ran his hands over Reid’s back and shoulders, damp with sweat, giving light scratches that had Reid shuddering and gasping into the kiss.
After long moments, Reid pushed himself upright and withdrew from Harris. He tied off the condom and threw it in the direction of a wastebasket next to the nightstand. Then Reid flopped down and drew Harris close to him, wrapping those large arms around him and curling them together.
“That was…” Harris began, finding himself at a loss for words for the first time that he could remember.
“Uh-huh,” Reid said, heaving a sigh and burying his face into Harris’ hair. “Rest. Round two later.”
Harris laughed. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Reid’s light snore met his ears before Harris, too, drifted off, safe and warm in Reid’s arms.
Light streamed through the window’s sky-blue curtains, doing nothing to block the rays. Groaning, Harris raised a hand to cover his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. With his other hand, he reached out, hoping to feel two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle next to him.
Instead, he found fur.
Confused, Harris blinked over to what had been Reid’s side of the bed. There, he found a fluffy gray-and-white cat curled up into a perfect ball, purring softly on top of Reid’s pillow.
For the life of him, Harris couldn’t remember the cat’s name. He knew it was short, something he should have remembered, but it had also been an odd name for a cat.
“Guess I’ll just call you Sylvester,” he muttered, his voice rough from sleep. He cleared it, startling the cat awake. Sylvester narrowed his eyes at Harris, as though he were disgruntled with finding Harris in his space.
“Well, I was here first,” Harris said, indignant before realizing he was defending himself against a cat. He rolled his eyes and sat up. “Alright. Fine. Tell me what you did with Reid, and I’ll leave you alone.”
No answer was forthcoming, which Harris knew would be the case, but he was still disappointed. He didn’t smell any coffee or breakfast, so he worried that maybe Reid had abandoned Harris to his own devices without a word.
After all, they hadn’t talked about what this thing was between them. For all Harris knew, it was only for one night, and Reid had left him alone to prevent a no-doubt awkward situation.
Harris sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. Then he looked back over at the cat, who had stood and arched his back in a deep stretch before curling around into another ball and falling back asleep.
“Useless,” he muttered. He flipped the sheets back, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He couldn’t remember where all his clothes were, but he was pretty sure his boxers were in here somewhere. He looked around before spotting his jeans and underwear folded neatly on a small armchair beneath the window. His sweater hung from a hanger hooked on the curtain rod.
Harris smiled at the sight. It was such a “Reid” thing to do.
Snatching his boxers, he slipped them on before he tiptoed his way through the apartment and toward the bathroom he spotted last night.
Harris also smiled at the brand-new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste sitting on the counter next to the sink before his stomach twisted in confusion.
Did Reid want him to leave or not?
Brushing his teeth and washing his hands before trying to do something to his hair, Harris huffed a frustrated breath and gave up. He needed a shower. But he hoped he could find Reid first.
Harris began to wander through the house, finding it empty. Maybe Reid had gone down to the restaurant?
The only other door in the hallway stood ajar. In the light of day, Harris could see an easel standing near the window holding a large white canvas, angled away from view. He glanced over his shoulder before he inched toward the room, pushing the door open with one foot.
The room was a disaster. Sheets littered the floor, covered in assorted paint splotches. Canvases lined the walls along the floor, most of them blank. Boxes towered in one corner. Harris would put serious money down on the fact that Reid had never unpacked those when he moved in.
Harris picked his way through the room, trepidation filling him. Was this all of his old ex-boyfriend’s stuff? How long had they lived together? Harris didn’t blame Reid for wanting to leave those boxes untouched.
Then he caught sight of the work in progress on the easel.
It was a watercolor, and the style looked so much like all of the ones downstairs and in the apartment that Harris’ breath caught. The technique and use of vibrant colors was so familiar, but the subject of the painting made Harris’ blood hot, then cold.
It was Harris. He’d bet a year’s salary on it. But he was facing away from the artist, his bright red sweater a contrast against the deep blue of the water. The sand stretched out all around him as he stared off into the horizon, his hands in his pockets, lost in thought. The tension in his shoulders could be felt from a mile away. Yet the painting gave a promise, a promise that all those worries would be carried out to sea, never to return.
Harris stared at the painting as the world swirled around him, everything snapping into place.
Of course Reid was the artist. Why else would he have kept all that art hanging all over his restaurant and house? Why else would all of the subjects be people he knew? And the portrait of Gail, that should have given it away. But Harris had been too angry and, frankly, jealous at the time to really put two and two together.
Harris descended into a spiral of sickening thoughts. He shouldn’t have slept with Reid. What had he been thinking? Harris was an old, washed-up doctor whose last procedure had killed a man. He was nothing. He didn’t have a talent like Reid so clearly did. A talent Reid had clearly wanted to keep hidden. How long would it have taken for Reid to tell him? Harris shook his head. It wasn’t like Reid even wanted this to begin with, not really. He had a rule against sleeping with tourists. And that’s all Harris was.
Just a tourist.
Panic held him by the throat, threatening to choke him if he didn’t leave right now.
As if on cue, Harris heard the front door open and shut. Then he heard footsteps move around and into what Harris could only guess was the kitchen.
Harris held still, wondering if he could sneak out of the apartment without Reid knowing. Then he shook his head. There was no way he was getting out of this without a confrontation.
Steeling himself, Harris left the bedroom and made his way toward the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re up! Great!” Reid beamed at him as he opened the refrigerator. He was dressed in a pair of light denim jeans with holes in the knees and a teal-green T-shirt. Dirty canvas shoes completed the look. A brown paper bag sat on the counter along with two large white paper coffee cups. A most heavenly scent filled the room, and Harris found himself gravitating into the kitchen.
He stopped himself before he could pick up one of the cups.
“You’re the artist,” he said.
Reid froze, then straightened from his position in front of the fridge, with what looked like a container of cream cheese in his hand. He turned, giving Harris a searching look.
“Your… studio? Is that what you art folks call it? Anyway,” Harris bit his lip. “It was open. I might have caught a glimpse of a few things in there.”
Reid’s shoulders tightened minutely. Then he relaxed on a soft sigh. “Yeah. I’m the artist.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harris asked, genuinely curious. It came out like an accusation anyway, and Harris winced.
“I don’t know,” Reid said, letting the fridge door fall shut behind him as he made his way over to Harris and the paper bag. He picked up one of the cups and offered it to Harris. “Would you believe me if I said I was embarrassed?”
A snort of laughter fell from him as relief filled him. He nodded. “Yeah. Knowing you, I can believe it. But you gotta let me tell Maggie. Please. I want to buy anything you’d make for me. Even that picture of me.”
Reid blanched, choking on a sip of coffee. “You did a little more than ‘catch a glimpse,’” he said, lifting an eyebrow.
Harris shrugged. “Curiosity killed the cat. Speaking of,” he looked back over toward the hallway. “Sylvester is having a nice little nap on your pillow.”
It was Reid’s turn to laugh. “Sylvester?” he asked. Then shook his head in disbelief. “His name is Leo.”
Harris snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Sorry, I couldn’t remember his name, so I renamed him temporarily. Wait,” he paused, narrowing his gaze at Reid. “You didn’t name him after Leonardo Di Vinci did you? Oh, you totally did!” he crowed as Reid’s cheeks darkened.
“I can name my cat whatever I want,” he said, turning to the paper bag and pulling it open. “I got us bagels from the local bagel shop down the street. They do a good job on everything, but I didn’t know what you might have wanted.”
Reid spread out container after container, each filled with an assortment of spreads and toppings. Then he grabbed a plate and began to empty the bag of bagels. Harris’ jaw dropped.
“There are only two of us, right?” he asked.
Reid smacked his arm playfully as he reached over to grab a few butter knifes from the silverware drawer.
“Yes. But I didn’t know what you wanted. Eat what you want, and I’ll give the leftovers to the guys downstairs. They’ll love it.”
Harris shrugged. He still felt a smidge of panic at being in Reid’s apartment, the “morning-after jitters” as Maggie had put it so eloquently years ago. But Reid had brought him coffee. And bagels. It would be a shame to let all of that go to waste.
But first…
Harris came up behind Reid and gripped the man’s hips tight, pushing him up against the counter, disrupting whatever he had been doing with the bagels.
“Harris?” Reid asked. Harris hummed at the slight hitch in Reid’s voice.
“I want an appetizer,” Harris said simply before taking a step back and manhandling Reid around to face him. Then he dropped to his knees, quickly undoing Reid’s pants. “These pants drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured, his fingers diving in between the folds.
“Hadn’t noticed,” Reid said, his voice husky even as his fingers carded through Harris’ hair.
It didn’t take long before Harris enjoyed his coffee and bagels.