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[amelialourdes]

*sigh* I'm prolonging the essay writing process yet again. I have now ... 2.5 hours. So, now that that's out of the way.


I followed him, and indeed, he was at the hotel again. He grabbed his key and let himself in. Ethan jumped up at the sound of the door opening. “Justin, I was worried, where’d you go?”

“Out,” Justin threw his jacket on the couch and from the look on Ethan’s face, he knew exactly where Justin had been.

“I’m sorry.” Justin nodded, but didn’t look at his lover. “I’m sorry,” Ethan said more softly this time, moving closer to him, attempting to touch Justin, put his arms around him as I did.

“Ethan,” Justin sighed. “We’ll talk later. I’m going to bed.”

And to bed he went, Ethan left standing in the middle of their luxurious hotel living room, confused, frustrated, and horny.

I smiled at the scene, proud of that young man. I had to decide that if this couple was truly worthy of being saved or if they were doomed as so many couples were in today’s world. I neither wished for their demise or their triumph, I was neutral but it was still my call whether or not they deserved eternal happiness, they had to prove it to me, I had to see it with my own eyes.

The couple left a few days after the performance, back to their home, which was Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States of America. They did not receive a welcome back party, no friends met them at the airport, they returned alone, to a small apartment they shared in the city. They also did not speak much to one another, but I could feel as if that they wanted to.

That afternoon Ethan had some press interviews to give. “So I need to leave right?” Justin replied sarcastically to Ethan’s statement.

“Well, yeah, but you know that I don’t want you to.” What a bad save. “Please baby, you know that I’m doing this for us,” he reached for Justin’s hands and Justin let him take them.

Justin nodded in sadness, moving closer to Ethan. “I just –“

“I know,” Ethan interrupted. He moved closer to him now, leaning into him, and kissed him on the lips, softly first but then with more enthusiasm, more hunger. “We do have another 20 minutes,” he spoke suggestively.

Justin shook his head, “You do what you need to do. Call me when you’re finished.”

“I love you,” Ethan called out to him before leaving.

“You too,” Justin closed the door behind him.

He went around the corner to an art gallery. The person at the front desk had recognized him and welcomed him with open arms. After a few minutes of conversation, he proceeded to enter the first room where paintings by local artists were displayed.

I don’t know why, but I decided to make my presence known yet again.

I came up behind him, casually admiring the same painting. He turned around slowly, looking at me, but I did not look at him. He turned back around to look at the painting, but then quickly looked back at me. “Admiring the picture?” he asked, a tint of nervousness to his voice.

“Quite,” was my response. I could’ve stopped there but I proceeded, “The subject matter is a bit, vague, subtle. But then again maybe that’s the point.” Then I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue, much like the painting we were standing in front of. I was captivated.

He looked at the painting, “I … completely agree.” He seemed surprised by my response. “Are you an art critic?”

“Merely an admirer. You?” I was shocked to find myself genuinely interested.

“Um, an artist, an art student, actually,” he nodded, confirming his statement, mostly to himself.

“Is any of your work on display?” I motioned around the gallery.

“Oh no,” he chuckled and seemed to blush, a light shade of pink appearing on his smooth cheeks. “Maybe one day, soon I hope. For now, struggling artist.” I gave him a small smile, encouraging his efforts. “I’m sorry, Justin, Justin Taylor,” he held out his hand to me.

“Brian Kinney,” the alias I used here on Earth. I took his hand, giving it a soft shake.

He looked down at our clasped hands, recognition appearing in his eyes. I was just as confused by this as he was. Was he perceptive enough to know that my touch was the same touch he felt around his body a few nights ago? It was impossible. “Nice to meet you,” he breathed out, my hand still in his. I waited for him to let go, and a moment later he did.

“Likewise.”

He followed me around the galley, listening to my every word, watching my every movement, and I did the same to him. I could feel his attraction to me, and it was only then that I remembered why I had pulled away from him at that club. I attempted to break conversation, distance myself from him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not now that he knew who I was, well, my mortal self.

And as difficult as it is for me to admit, I didn’t want to be away from him, I wanted to hear him voice his thoughts, his opinions, and I wanted to watch him move. His movements were art in my eyes.

“Brian, would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me?” before I could answer, his cell phone began to ring. He told me to wait. Instead of answering it, he took one glance at the name that appeared on the small screen and turned off the phone. “Sorry about that,” he apologized. I waved off the incident. “So, what do you say?”

How could I leave? No. Not now. “Sure,” I gave him my best non-committal stare and followed him. We made quite the pair, a God and a boy who had the face of an angel. I noticed the stares, envy. I was familiar with it.

I let myself enjoy mortal pleasures often, coffee was a favorite of mine. I ordered my drink, he ordered his and we took a seat in the back of the small shop. He wanted to know about me, he said. He wanted to know what I did for a living. “You’re very informed about art,” was his reasoning for thinking that I was an artist, or something in that line of work.

I couldn’t say, ‘I’m not an artist, but I’m a muse’. He didn’t need to know what I did, it wasn’t important. “I’m a freelance consultant.”

“Consultant for what?” he wondered. He was young, youth always had a question ready to go at a moment’s notice, or sooner.

“For international organizations,” I sipped my drink.

He looked impressed. Mortals were simple. Something that sounded important, usually was. It was how they perceived things to be. But I wasn’t lying. I was working my way around the truth.

“Sounds … prosperous.”

“It is,” I agreed. “It has it’s many rewards.” I could tell by the way his eyes shifted around the room and by the tone of his voice that I was making him nervous. I couldn’t understand why.

“You –, I mean … um,” he stammered. “I don’t usually ask this of someone that I’ve just met but,” he began to tap his fingers on the table, very rapidly in fact. “Is it all right if you allowed me to draw you? I just get these moments sometimes. It’s sort of like an addiction for me,” he nervously admitted. “I kind of need to do it. I just need your permission in case.”

In case I was angry that he didn’t give me credit for being a muse? If that were the case, hundreds of artists throughout history were pissing me off. The thought was amusing. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all, but you needn’t ask for my permission Justin.”

His expression changed when I said his name, a look of … arousal? “Thanks,” he spoke softly.

Attracted to a mortal? No. I’m not. It’s merely sexual. That’s all he has to offer me. That’s all he wants to offer me right now. But not now, not ever. I will not succumb to the wills of a mortal like my brothers and sisters before me. I will stay on task. Sure, keep telling yourself that, I lectured.

“I have to go,” I sipped my coffee again, finishing off what I could.

“But –“ he had no reason to not let me go, he knew that and so did I. “Well, thank you for the painting then. Maybe you’ll see it sometime.”

“Maybe,” I smiled, standing up. “Nice meeting you,” formalities, to let him know I was all business.

“Yeah, you too,” his smile was almost enough to convince me to stay, but I left, back into the atmosphere where I’ll be able to watch him without knowing. He stayed for a moment and then took out his cell phone. It was then that I saw that Ethan had called him. But instead, he chose to stay with me. How peculiar.

Suddenly I didn’t feel comfortable watching the both of them interact. I wanted to leave, let them hand their lives to fate instead of having me meddle in it, but I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. So, I stayed.

“Where were you?”

“Sorry, I was in a gallery and I didn’t want the phone to go off again.”

Justin retreated to the bedroom, taking out blank sheets of paper and a pencil in his hand he began to sketch. Slowly, he began to bring me to life. Each stroke, each marking brought out a physical side of myself that I have never seen before. He was so concentrated upon it, as if his life depended on it.

I looked down at his pants and noticed the growing bulge. Strangely, he noticed it as well, but ignored it as best as he could.

When he completed the sketch, he placed it on the bed and looked upon it reflectively. He added some final touches and sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment and sat back in his chair. He lifted a hand and placed it on his pants, rubbing his erection slowly. His breathing increased and he rubbed. He licked his lips and put his other hand behind his neck. Then he spoke in a whisper, not loud enough for anyone to hear, he said, “Brian.”

I was stunned.

Ethan knocked on the door. Good thing he did. Justin quickly flipped a page on his sketchbook and pretended to be contemplating what to draw on his blank sheet. “Hey, what are you doing in here?” Ethan came into the room.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

Ethan looked down at the empty canvas. “Nothing yet?”

Justin shook his head, “I’ve been trying.”

“Maybe you need some inspiration,” Ethan moved closer, tossing Justin’s book aside to sit on Justin’s lap. Justin gave a small smile and allowed his lover to kiss him, run his hands through his blonde hair, touch him. “You’re hard already,” Ethan gave a proud smile. If only he knew.

It didn’t take Justin very long to come, he had the advantage of already jerking off before they began their foreplay. He was thinking about me. Had he been thinking of me the whole time? I was interested and extremely aroused. To think that I had this effect so quickly on this young man … sometimes I underestimate my powers, unable to see that I could make men and women fall in love with me with one glance. But I never fell in love, and I never will.

Comments

[black-tie-wings.livejournal.com]

This is great. I'm really liking it. :D

But I never fell in love, and I never will.

Oh Brian! The things you say! Hehehe :D

Beh. Who needs essay writing when you've got a plot bunny hopping around in your head?

[amelialourdes.livejournal.com]

Yes! I certainly don't need my essay! Soooo I didn't do it, again, *aggravated sigh*

Thank you!

*continues to scribble*