ℝ𝔸ℕ𝔻𝕐 & 𝕁𝔸ℂ𝕂𝕃𝕐ℕ 𝕆ℕ𝔼𝕊ℍ𝕆𝕋𝕊🏳️🌈

Paint me (Jacklyn)

BROOK'S POV
I was sitting on the sofa in my boyfriend's room, a notebook and a pen in my hands and a cup of tea placed on the coffee table next to me.
I was trying to put all my attention on the song I was writing. Blair told us we all had to put in more effort trying to compose songs. Andy has always been the best and was proud of it, rightly so, he helped all of us if we needed it, but Blair was insatiable and we could never 100% satisfy his requests.

My concentration kept coming and going, lingering for a while on the lyrics of the song, going shortly after to the boy in front of me.
Jack was painting for the second time that day. I didn't know exactly what the subject of his painting was, but he was doing very well.

His hair was pulled back with a bandana, the rare times he wore it were, in fact, on those occasions. His eyes were focused on the increasingly colorful canvas and he moved them only when he had to choose another color. He was sitting on a high stool, he was wearing the usual black T-shirt, dirty with several stains of different colors, it fell to his knees, no matter how wide he was; the gray sweatpants, also slightly dirty, showed his size, and believe me it wasn't bad at all.

The sight alone made me hard.

"You're staring, aren't you?" he turned to me and I did nothing to look away and make him think otherwise. He smiled. God, how much I love his smile. "How's it going with the song?"

"Bad" he put down his brushes and came towards me and he sat on the sofa, I passed him my notebook.

"We be rolling with the roof down
Phones down, we can paint the town, yeah
I don't wanna ever come down with you" he read, trying to give it a rhythm and sing it.

"What do you think about it?"

"I think it gives a general idea for a future song" he said, smiling. I've always loved this side of him as a proud and supportive boyfriend.

He gave me a kiss on the lips that my sexual desire quickly turned into a make out.

"I have to keep painting" he said, slightly panting.

"Paint me then" the desire for him was so great that I didn't care in what conditions we would do it, it was enough to do it.

He frowned at me not understanding what I was saying.
A smile has made space on his lips.
He took the notebook and the pen and put them on the coffee table near the sofa, he lay on top of me and slammed on my lips, not wasting a second getting his tongue into my mouth.
We moaned between our kisses, while our members rubbed each other causing each other's arousal.

"Take these off" he said, pointing at my shirt and pants.

Meanwhile he stood up, my eyes followed his every movement. He took a brush and dipped it in the clean water he had recently taken.
He started kissing my neck in a sensual way, making me moan with every touch of him. He alternated kisses and hickeys, filling my neck and then my chest. He saw my body a bit like his empty canvas to be filled and I loved this thing so much.
With the brush he began to trace the outline of my abs. The hair of the brush tickled my skin and he managed to make me even harder.
A smirk formed on his lips and soon after he moved the brush from my abs to my very hard cock, in need of being touched.

"Oh God" he traced every inch of skin on my cock, going back and forth, running along the balls, the whole shaft, the tip, then making rotational movements.

I moaned uncontrollably, without giving importance to the fact that there were other people in the house. The same people who used my same logic when they did sex. Like Andy, for example, when he was mercilessly pounded by Rye, he didn't care not to be loud, also because it was impossible.