Drawn to you, p.14
Drawn to You, page 14
Brandon hunched over a too-small desk in the hotel room he was sharing with his teammate Walker for the night, since Skylar got called up. It was the first time Brandon had felt a sharp spike of jealousy knowing Skylar was headed to the Twin Cities. Walker had noise-canceling headphones on, nose buried in his Nintendo Switch. It wasn’t the glamorous scene that Brandon pictured when he thought about playing pro hockey.
“It was sweet,” Chloe told Brandon about his own story. “I like the effort you put into making your sister feel valued and loved. Is there growth you could add there? For example, what if the way you made sure she had a safety net in a normally difficult situation made her feel comfortable doing something she previously found even scarier?”
Yeah, Brandon wasn’t handing out feedback like that. He wished he was recording their Zoom because he didn’t know if his notes about possible changes would even make sense to him afterward.
“I think there are some spots where you could choose some stronger verbs,” Haruto suggested, and Brandon just made the suggested changes right in his doc as they talked through it.
“I loved it,” Gabe said when it was his turn to give Brandon his feedback, and Brandon immediately felt more naked than he had on his couch while Gabe drew him. He didn’t care how Chloe and Haruto felt about his story. He didn’t know them. The stakes were low. But Gabe knew him, and Brandon desperately wanted Gabe to like him. “It was sweet. Ashley is going to love it.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” Brandon said, thinking about how he thought Gabe’s story was leaps and bounds better than his own. Gabe used words Brandon had to google, and even though his story was the shortest in the group, it was heart-wrenching. Brandon had told him as much.
Gabe looked down at his phone for a while, like Brandon could hardly keep his attention for three minutes before something more interesting came along. But then his phone buzzed with a text, and when he pulled it out of his pocket, it was Gabe.
Gabe
When you’re all done with it, send me the doc and I’ll format it into a book with the cover I drew. You can send it to Ash for Christmas.
Brandon’s heart was a pinball, getting knocked around to rack up points, dropping between the flippers, and then getting shot right back into play.
Brandon
Thank you. You’re wonderful.
“That probably wraps it up,” Haruto said, giving the group the same kind smile he always brought to these meetings. “It’s been nice to be in a group with you folks.”
“Good luck with the end of your semesters! Take a nap, Gabe,” Chloe said with a wave. Brandon ended the Zoom as the others did and got an immediate text from Gabe.
Gabe
I really loved your story. I’m proud of you.
In hockey, when your teammates were also your competition and the stakes felt so high, it could be easy to feel like some of the guys you play with were a little fake. Relationships didn’t always last long, especially in lower leagues before you made it to the NHL, and Brandon had a cordial work relationship with a lot of the guys on his team. Just passing through.
Gabe, on the other hand, felt so genuine. Real. He was always holding a magnifying glass up to Brandon, noticing things about him that no one had ever picked up on. Prodding him out of insecurities. He felt like a friend.
Brandon wondered what would happen if he stopped sending Gabe money or buying him things. Would they still be friends? Was Gabe only this nice to him because of the money?
He felt good being able to lighten Gabe’s load. Brandon liked that he could order grocery delivery for him so he could eat healthier, and make sure he could finish his degree this year. He didn’t want to stop, even though he knew he should be saving his money. A hockey career could end at any time for any reason, and he wanted to go into the NHL feeling like he was making smart choices about his money.
And then he thought about how Gabe said he’d been getting more sleep. How he had more energy because he was eating well and not trying to subsist off packaged stuff and whatever food he could get for free on campus or at the grocery store. Brandon felt good—useful—when Gabe sent him photos of the premade meals he brought to work or school with him. He drew a still life of one of them once on the back of a napkin, and Brandon saved the photo Gabe sent him of it but didn’t know how to ask for Gabe to save him the napkin, which he was sure Gabe tossed.
Gabe had problems that Brandon could solve. And that made him feel good.
NINETEEN
GABE
Gabe and Parker both underestimated how much sanding this dresser was going to need. There were nooks and crannies, and Gabe’s hands were dry and cracking already from the weather. He was going to have some rough fingertips for the next few weeks. He was grateful he didn’t have a pottery class at the moment, which would make the problem twice as bad.
“You don’t have to be out here with me if you need to be working on homework. I know you have a math test coming up.”
It was the week before finals week, and Gabe had been working on projects for two art classes, finishing up his short story for creative writing, and studying for a math test in the tiny spaces he could wedge a math book into.
“I’m taking math pass/fail, so I only need to get a 2.0. I’m not concerned.”
“I tried,” Parker said. Their garage was insulated, but it wasn’t heated. It was still cold in there, but with the garage door closed, at least they didn’t have to deal with the wind.
“If I don’t take a break, my brain will turn to dust. Plus, Brandon sent me some cash so I could take a couple weeks off from the grocery store.”
“Holy shit.”
“My shifts got snatched up so quickly that I don’t even feel bad about not being there.”
“He cares about you.”
“I think so, yeah.” Thinking about Brandon always distracted Gabe from whatever he was doing.
“I can’t imagine Lucas doing the same for me.”
“Don’t talk about Lucas like he’s your boyfriend.”
“If he acted like Brandon, he probably would be.”
“Are you still seeing him?”
“Here and there.” Parker’s cheeks were pink, which Gabe hoped meant they were still keeping things sex-only.
“And wearing protection?”
“Duh. I know who he is.” He was a cheater. Gabe hated him.
“You know I’m only being an asshole about this because I love you.”
“I know. And when this crashes and burns, you can say ‘I told you so.’”
“You know I wouldn’t do that. I get it.”
“The idea of finding a new person not only to love, but also to train them on how my body works, is a nightmare.”
“Maybe you just find someone regular to fuck who hasn’t broken your heart.”
“Yeah, I’ll just do that. That’s so easy.” Parker rolled his eyes, refocusing on the drawer front he was sanding.
Gabe decided to zip his lips. “I’ll stop hounding you about it unless you actually want my input about it. I get it’s complicated.”
“Thanks, Gabe. And please continue to keep your mouth shut around Mac. And Duncan.” Telling Duncan anything was as good as telling Mac directly.
Gabe mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
Gabe shook his wrists out. He’d been using them a lot during finals, and he wasn’t always great at remembering the warmups and stretching he was supposed to be doing. His illustration portfolio was as done as he could get it. The next day, he’d go over it one more time before moving on to one more piece for his figure drawing portfolio.
And until then, he’d blow off steam by…drawing more.
Brandon had sent him a few more inspiration photos, and Gabe sat with his iPad and drawing board in the living room, as Duncan read in the chair in the corner. Duncan read dense nonfiction, and Gabe wasn’t about to ask him questions about it, lest he get stuck in a presentation on the last handful of chapters Duncan read.
“How are finals going?” Duncan asked. Duncan was Mac’s age, a couple of years older than Gabe and Parker. He’d had the good sense to drop out of college after freshman year and kept the lights on, so to speak, by also having a handful of income streams.
“Finals fucking suck,” Gabe said cheerily. He refused to let his misery seep into his mood.
“What are you working on?”
“Presently? Not school stuff.”
“Oh. Sexy stuff?” Gabe felt eternally grateful to have found this house of queer (mostly) artists. Nothing he ever did was weird.
“Yeah. Brandon has been sending me, uh, reference photos.”
“Oh, dang. He’s a nice kid. Talked to him a bit when he was here for that fundraiser thing.”
“About what?”
Duncan shrugged, shutting his book closed on his thumb to hold his place as they talked.
“He was nervous, and he didn’t say it, but I could tell he wanted to impress you. He invited you down to Iowa. And now he’s sending you nudes? Are you two official? You’d mention that, right?”
Gabe sighed and looked down at his iPad, where an artistic rendering of Brandon’s dick stared back at him. He wanted to draw so much more of Brandon. He wanted to draw his face in the heat of pleasure. He put the iPad to sleep so he could focus. “Yeah, I’d mention that. I’d probably shout it from the rooftops.”
“And you’re not because…?”
“I feel like I’m taking advantage of him.”
“Wouldn’t he be the one taking advantage of you?”
“I’m practically stealing money from him.”
“He opted in to that.”
“Yeah,” Gabe agreed reluctantly. “I’m the experienced one.”
“No two people who have ever had sex before have had an exactly equal set of experiences. And that’s okay.”
“I want him to find a real boyfriend and not settle for me.” That’s what it felt like. Like Brandon was settling. Like he could do better than Gabe. “And when he settles down with someone, it’ll be someone from his own socioeconomic group. His own tax bracket.”
“Oh,” Duncan said, like that explained it all. “You’re insecure about how much you make compared to him.”
“I’m realistic about how much I make compared to him.”
“I understand if you can’t imagine yourself ending up with a person who has never known what it feels like to have to make twenty bucks last them two weeks, but from what it looks like, he’s not concerned about that.”
“I feel like everyone is telling me to go for it.”
“And how do you feel?”
“I like him.”
Duncan headed off to his studio to get some work done, and Gabe headed upstairs. The house was quiet, and Gabe considered taking a nap. Instead, he pulled up the drawing he did of Brandon and sent it off to him.
Gabe
How would you feel if I posted this to my Instagram/Patreon? It’s been sparse lately. You can say no, but it’s pretty anonymous. I’ll censor the Instagram version.
Brandon
It’s still weird to look at your art and see myself. Yeah, you can post it.
Gabe
Thank you <3
He pulled up his Instagram, neglected from a difficult and consuming semester. Not only from the volume of work he had to do, and the constant exhaustion he nearly always felt, but also from the new distraction he had. Boys were rarely a distraction for him. He had no issue making a sexual connection with someone, and he had few issues making friends, but romance was a less frequent success.
The potential future he had with Brandon still felt unlikely, but regardless of where their brains were at with it, the two of them had something. A spark that kept them both going.
He censored the sensitive parts of the drawing and popped it up to his explicit Instagram, adding a caption without thinking about it too hard: I have a new favorite dick. Then he hit Post and went to cross-post the uncensored version on Patreon.
Barely thirty seconds later, his phone dinged. Brandon sent a screenshot, and for a moment, a bolt of fear ran through Gabe. Did Brandon regret his consent? Gabe would delete it right away.
Brandon
Is it really your favorite?
His fear melted into that fuzzy joy Brandon made him feel. He was basically kicking his feet.
Gabe
Duh.
I mean that literally.
He was thinking about clarifying that he meant it in an art way, but he was always qualifying the absolutely thirsty ways he looked at Brandon as being an artist thing. Sometimes it was just attraction, and Brandon deserved to know that.
Brandon
The pro of you drawing me is that I love your art, and it’s flattering that you would even want to draw me. The con is that looking at a drawing that I know is me isn’t particularly a turn-on.
Gabe
So you want something to turn you on?
Gabe bit his lip as he waited for Brandon’s response, then looked up where he was that night. Michigan.
Brandon’s text notification flashed at the top of his screen.
Brandon
Yes
Gabe
give me a second here
He had already been getting hard just talking to Brandon, a buzz of hunger in his belly from all the time he’d spent that day looking at Brandon’s “reference photos.” He figured Brandon deserved some photos back as well.
Gabe wasn’t a photographer, but he was careful about the choices he was making. He left his underwear on but shoved them down his thighs because he thought it was more erotic. He stroked himself enough to get hard, then added some lube, because the shine of it looked raunchy. Then he shoved his shirt up and pinched his nipples enough to make them red. He worked them harder than he would for his own pleasure, but he was creating a visual here.
Finally, he licked his lips and framed his shot. He held his phone camera low, nearly between his legs, so his hard cock was front and center. He arched his back, bottom lip between his teeth, slightly out of focus.
This would have been easier to do if he had some help, but while he had asked his roommates for a lot of weird art help (and had been asked for the same kinds of weird help right back) this was a line they didn’t need to cross with each other.
It took several tries to get it framed correctly, and finally he had a handful of photos that had potential. They were hot. Gabe had never explored taking sexy photos of himself before, and based on the results, he’d be into doing it again. If Brandon had a good reaction.
Gabe sent off another text—just the photo he thought turned out the best.
And it only took seconds to get a barely intelligible response. But after the first keyboard smash of a reply, Brandon sent a second text.
Brandon
Wow, even your dirty photos are artistic. That’s the first nude I’ve ever received and I’m not sure anyone will ever be able to top it.
Gabe
I’ll work on making them even better.
He sent a winky face, and several minutes passed. He lazily stroked himself with the hand not holding his phone, looking through the photos Brandon had sent him in the last week. His phone buzzed with a new photo, and he tapped the notification so fast his phone nearly fell on his face.
The new photo was a sexy aftermath. Brandon’s dick was softening, his hand and stomach shiny with come. It was a POV shot of his belly button to his knees, but he looked naked, even if he wasn’t. He was bare in rumpled sheets. Gabe’s erection suddenly stood at attention. He’d been at a simmer for hours, not letting his arousal progress to something he’d need to deal with. He could draw it out, but he wanted to send back another photo to Brandon, so he let himself appreciate Brandon’s gorgeous body, the slick little drops of come, his big hands that Gabe wanted all over his body.
He framed his own shot to look as similar to Brandon’s photo as he could, though it was obviously him, the lion head tattoo he had on his thigh prominent. He sent it off, then grabbed some tissues off his side table.
Brandon
Glad to have a closeup of that tattoo. Hot. I don’t think it even entered my brain the day you drew me. And those fucking freckles…
Gabe was of the opinion that nothing was sluttier than a tattoo on your thigh, so he liked Brandon’s appreciation. He also liked the acknowledgement of their afternoon in Iowa, however small the acknowledgement was.
Brandon
Thanks, Gabe. Being on the road is hard right now. It’s nice to have a distraction. And a friend.
Sometimes Brandon was this smoking hot pro athlete who made Gabe’s insides melt a bit, and sometimes he said things that made Gabe’s heart squeeze.
Gabe
Everything all right? Do you want to talk?
More minutes passed than had between Gabe’s sexy photo and Brandon’s aftermath photo. Finally, after Gabe had crawled under his covers and set an alarm to wake up from his nap in time for his grocery shift, his phone rang.
