A Painter's Price

A Painter’s Price Kira Stone All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2008 Kira Stone

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is

illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary

gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison

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ISBN: 978-1-60521-097-1

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

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www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Margaret Riley

Cover Artist: Kassie Thrace

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

A Painter’s Price Kira Stone Erik the Painter once lived a life of decadence and debauchery, sparing no thought for the turmoil his wanton behavior created in the households where he stayed. His callousness earned him a visit from the king’s mage… and the curse that keeps him alive through the centuries. He now exists solely to create. He has no mortal needs or concerns, save for the one night a year when he must sacrifice a piece of his soul to survive… until he has nothing left to give to his art. Jason has studied not only the work of Erik the Painter, but everything he could learn about the elusive man. When his dream to meet the artist and the chance to discover the secret behind his centuries-long career comes true, Jason isn’t prepared for the powerful erotic feelings the artist provokes in him. Yet his need to touch Erik slowly overrides every other, until there is nothing he can do but surrender, mind, body and soul. Together, in a magical journey, they learn the true cost of A Painter’s Price.

For MaxPwr -- a muse of the first water.

And for Adian -- because he cared.

Chapter 1 Post Revel This is one fine orgy. The self-congratulatory thought filtered through Erik’s lustfueled mind as he licked expensive red wine off the impressive cock bobbing before his lips. Who his mystery lover was, Erik couldn’t say. He had a nice meaty shaft, though. Not terribly long, but wide enough to split a man open. Erik’s sphincter spasmed just from imagining the feel of that thick cock sliding into him. Musky odors of sweat and cum perfumed the royally appointed bedchamber. An enormous fire crackled nearby, keeping the half dozen or so bare bodies in the room toasty warm. Groans, moans, and the occasional wail of ecstasy confirmed the wanton celebration continued. The elegant space needed a large reflective surface placed near the bed where he could better watch his own performance, Erik mused. He had a deep appreciation for the male form, and in his opinion his own was among the best -- long and lean with a feather-light dusting of hair on his limbs and chest which, when covered with a light sheen of sweat, practically glowed under candlelight. While still licking and sucking the ruddy head of his lover’s cock, Erik assessed the other revelers with his artist’s eye. One couple, both males, clung to the wall beside the curtains. The smaller of the two had his cock buried deep in the larger one’s ass. They made the most noise, grunting like rutting beasts. Had he been painting them, he would have had the larger man on his knees, the other ramming him from behind. The look of agonized bliss on both their faces would be immortalized in paint. In another corner of the room, two women shared a male. Erik found the contrast of the ladies’ light and dark hair striking, as well as the myriad of scars on the man’s torso which marked him as the local blacksmith. His chest and stomach was about all

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Erik could see, given that the raven-haired beauty enthusiastically rode his cock while the buxom blonde pressed her pussy to his face. Capturing them on canvas would be easy and, to an artist of Erik’s skill, boring. He dismissed them from his mind. His eyes then fell upon a third couple. They lay before the fire, an older male with a young man. The younger male could be of peasant stock, given the breadth of his shoulders and the sculpted muscle of his thighs. His back and gluts rippled with every slow, deep thrust he gave his partner. The older man held little interest for Erik, except for the words that were occasionally audible over the crackle of flames. “Yes, boy, that’s it. Slow and deep. All the way in.” The young man’s round face flushed with the effort of holding back. He had to be a virgin, with men if not with women, too. The look of utter surprise and ecstasy he wore was worth the price of paint and canvas alone. To paint himself in as the bottom, well, the scene was already taking shape in his mind. As soon as he finished with his current partner, Erik vowed he’d have a poke at that boy next to freeze in his mind every nuance for the work of art he’d create later. Erik brushed his golden curls back from his sweat-damp face and nodded with satisfaction at the way the night had turned out. Apparently he wasn’t the only reveler with a fondness for good wine, plentiful food and hours and hours of sexual pleasure. Life was sweet indeed. Details of how he’d gotten the party started remained a bit vague. The appointment of a new duke -- or had he been a marquis? -- had given the local citizens and minor nobility a reason to gather. Strong wine and lively dance put everyone in a frolicking mood. From there, the celebration had quickly degenerated into sexual chaos. His encouraging a nice young woman, with a common face but a body to rival Venus, to show off her finer attributes might have had something to do with that… At one point, Erik recalled kneeling on a cold stone floor, his joints aching as some gruff bear of a man licked his ass. A murmur of complaint about the uncomfortable position slipped past his lips. Next he could recall, like magic, he’d

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ended up in this well-appointed chamber, decorated with expensive rugs, fresh bedding and a warm fire. Had that been only yesterday? Or perhaps the day before? Erik no longer knew or cared. People came and went as the hours passed, but Erik never left the comfortable room for long, except to find a servant when supplies ran low. Why should he? His current commission, to capture on canvas the new duke -- or marquis -- could be done in a few days. To ensure he had a home until he found his next commission, he required at least a month’s time with his patrons, so there was no need to rush the job. And what better way to spend his idle moments but in the bed of a gifted lover? Or at least a rich one, with a willingness to learn. Erik sucked his lover’s stout cock down to the root. Choking as the plump head filled his throat, he laved the hot flesh with his tongue until he could no longer ignore the need for air. The man moaned incoherently, thrusting his hips up, demanding more. Greedy bastard. “Now, Sir, you have to give a little if you want to receive,” Erik coaxed in a seductive tone. He turned his body to offer his semi-hard cock. The ruby-flushed head grazed his lover’s mouth. “Take it in. Be a good man. There you go…” Wet lips surrounded the crown of his cock. With more enthusiasm than skill, his lover sucked and licked until Erik grew hard. He rewarded the man’s effort by resuming his attentions to his partner’s cock and balls, sucking the sac into his mouth then letting it slip free, teaching his inexperienced lover by example what pleased him best. Salty-sweet pre-cum hit his tongue. He gave his lover’s ass a slap to bring forth another drop. Nectar of the gods, as far as Erik was concerned. Every man tasted different, and yet he loved them all. “Oh, fuck me,” the man whimpered around his mouthful of Erik’s cock. “Not this time.” The spirit was willing, but the body grew weak. He’d been going at it, in one form or another, for several days now. The need for a long, uninterrupted sleep gnawed

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at him. He was hard pressed to keep his eyes open. Silently promising to make it up to his lover later, if he remembered, Erik sucked in earnest. His lover attempted to return the attention. Erik winced as teeth caught his sensitive skin. All the more reason to end this quickly, he decided. At the moment, this man needed more education than he had the patience for. His lover bucked and groaned under him. It didn’t take long to coax him into orgasm. Seed spilled across Erik’s tongue in a honey-sweet river. He drank down every last drop, feeling it was his due for the hard work he’d put in. Under his guidance, the man continued to pleasure him with hand and mouth. Finally a weak orgasm rolled through Erik in quiet surrender, proving he’d been right about his need for a lengthy respite. He might have stayed awake long enough to mumble a word of praise before he lost himself in the warm, dark embrace of sleep.

*** A cool breeze ripped through the room some time later. The long brocade curtains surrounding the bed writhed, and the firelight flickered as though it were about to die in its wake. That alone would not have disturbed Erik from his well-earned slumber. No, a great booming voice startled him out of a deep sleep. “Since you love your art above all else, I hereby sentence you to an eternity of creation.” “What?” Fear trickled through the horrible hangover clouding Erik’s brain. Though he couldn’t yet see the shadowy figure standing beside the bed through his bloodshot eyes, he recognized the voice. The king’s mage was not pleased, and that was never a good thing. “For the rest of your life, you will produce some of the finest art ever created.” Well, that didn’t sound so bad. Painting was, after all, his passion. “Errrr… thank you.” A sneer entered the mage’s voice as he continued. “Your creative energies will be your only sustenance. You will not eat or drink or sleep. You will not be troubled by mortal weaknesses except on the one night a year when the price of being the greatest

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painter alive must be paid to me, a fragment of your inner spirit to be given to a vessel of my choosing. You will exist solely to create… until your soul is empty.” Now that last bit seemed a little extreme. Honestly, Erik didn’t know what good his soul was doing for him, but he didn’t think it would be wise to go around without one. “Is that really necessary? Painting is all I’m good at anyway.” “Painting… and debauchery. The king has lost all patience with the discord you create among his court with your callous, self-indulgent behavior. Could you not even leave the livestock alone?” the mage muttered with disgust. “That wasn’t me,” Erik protested as he tried to extract himself from the tangle of limbs pinning him down. A small corner of his brain wondered again who the bed belonged to, how long he’d been in it, and if his host’s largess would hold out until he had a bite of bread and cheese, maybe another mug of wine. “Not in body, perhaps, but the act was done with your encouragement. You sow depravity into the souls of the good people of this land, leaving a trail of broken marriages and broken hearts behind. The king will have no more of this debauchery!” “I hardly think all the consequences of the court’s questionable behavior can be blamed on me.” Erik looked around for his clothes, a little intimidated to be talking to the king’s mage without a stitch on. However, every garment he found smelled rank with spent passion. He flipped the bed curtain over his lap instead. “I enjoy a good party. What soul doesn’t? That’s human nature, not a crime.” “The evidence is quite plain, and the king has rendered his judgment. He left it to me to determine your punishment. After a fortnight of observation, I see the only way to change your ways is to give you exactly what you desire.” Warning bells clamored in his head, but Erik couldn’t puzzle out exactly what about that statement troubled him. “Would the king be satisfied if I left the city for a few weeks?” Surely he could convince one of the rich lords in the outlying districts to keep him sheltered and fed for a month. “Your departure might satisfy him, but it will not satisfy me. From this day forth, you will breathe art, dine on creative passion, and survive as long as your depraved,

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artistic soul can sustain you.” The mage’s robes rippled as if an angry fall wind had whirled around him. “As I will it, so mote it be,” the mage intoned with an earth­ shaking power. And, just like that, Erik’s life transformed.

Chapter 2 Dazed and Confused “Talk about intimidating…” Jason stood under the stone arch hovering over the front door of the castle-like manor house and shook back the hood of his jacket. Traversing the winding mountain pass had been harrowing. A sudden freak thunderstorm had seemed determined to wash his car off the road. After getting lost three times in as many hours and peering through a windshield the wipers couldn’t clear even on the highest setting, he’d been seriously tempted to turn back -- except the way back hadn’t seemed any easier than the way forward, and so he’d kept going. Nothing about finding the reclusive artist known only as Erik the Painter had been easy. But Internet searches and endless phone calls to track down the painter had eventually paid off, and so had his perseverance during the drive. At last, he’d found his destination. Jason desperately hoped he would also find the answers he wanted. The manor house itself had been elusive too, hiding amongst the low, brooding storm clouds. He only caught a glimpse of the imposing structure during the split second when lightning flashed across the evening sky. Until he arrived at the front gate and the old iron portal had swung back to admit him, he’d feared he’d reached another dead end. Now he stood in front of a stout wooden door, all that separated him from the goal of his long quest. The storm raged overhead as though it were bitterly upset it had lost the battle. Wicked wind hurled droplets under the arch. The rusted gargoyle knocker appeared to bleed. Red streaks coursed down the weathered timber. His hand closed over the cold metal ring, and he knocked twice. In true B-class horror movie fashion, the knocker squealed in protest.

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Almost immediately the thick door swung open, soundless except for the brush of wood passing over a dark rug. No one was visible on the other side. “Hello?” Jason called out. “Come in from the rain,” a warm, masculine voice invited. Though he couldn’t yet see anyone, by his accent, Jason knew English was not the speaker’s native tongue. Perhaps Italian or even Spanish. His ear for languages wasn’t as good as his eye for art, but the man’s tone sent a warm shiver down his spine. He stepped inside, glad to be out of the cold rain, and took in his surroundings. The foyer ended in two shallow stone steps. A river of plush red carpet flowed down the center of a long hall. Jason’s gaze followed the red swath to where it spilled into a stone room filled with bulky dark shadows. “May I take your coat?” Jason’s head snapped around to fix on the person who’d let him in. Sourceless amber firelight augmented his honey blond hair that hung in wavy curls to the top of his broad shoulders. A buttoned shirt of emerald green silk, open at the neck, revealed a smattering of golden hair on his chest, and black casual pants brushed the top of bare feet. What would he look like with all the clothing stripped away, lying bare on a rug, his head thrown back in erotic bliss… Sexual heat sparked in Jason’s gut. What the hell? He’d never been attracted to a man before, and he didn’t understand what made him start mentally undressing this one now. His mind drifted toward the ramifications of his thoughts. His fiancée certainly wouldn’t tolerate this new interest. She already believed he was too obsessed with the famous painter. Besides, well, it just wasn’t right… Jason shrugged out of his dripping jacket, searching for something to say. “I’m Jason. Jason Hawthorne. I’m here to meet the man known as Erik the Painter.” “Jason.” The man seemed to savor his name as though it were hundred-year-old whisky. “What a pleasure it is to meet you.”

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For once, Jason found himself believing those common words. This man, for whatever reason, really was pleased to see him. The knowledge warmed a place deep inside him. Cut that out, he chided himself. “Please, follow me.” The man walked down the corridor, following the ribbon of carpet, and Jason hurried after him. Though his guide wasn’t particularly tall or longlegged, he found it difficult to keep up, so he had little chance to memorize the twists and turns they took. The ornate furnishings they passed made him think of medieval museums. Most bore signs of long use, but good care had been taken to repair any serious damage they might have incurred over the years. However, the elegant décor couldn’t entirely distract him from the well-muscled ass of his guide. The way the deep charcoal pants clung to every flex of his gluts had Jason’s mouth watering. His sudden lust was inexplicable. Desperate for a distraction, Jason forced his mind back to the painter he’d come to see. Given the silence in the house as they moved through the halls, Jason suspected they were alone. The thought unnerved him, only partly because that might mean Erik wasn’t at home. He could wait -- would wait -- for the man to return if he had to. The prospect of waiting would be far more pleasant, however, if he could get over his strange infatuation with the physical attributes of his guide. They paused before a closed door. There was enough light from the wall sconces for Jason to see his guide’s jade green eyes subject him to a blistering hot review. It was short, thorough, and left Jason feeling as though his entire body had been stroked by a lover’s caress. The man unlocked a plain oak door and swung the portal open, motioning for Jason to precede him. Jason balked at entering the dark, circular chamber, unsure he would be able to find his way through the plethora of shadowy obstacles without inflicting damage on some expensive antique.

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A strong hand wrapped around his wrist when he would have drawn back into the corridor. “Will you permit my touch to guide you?” A frisson of heat snaked up Jason’s arm from where the man’s warm, gentle fingers rested against his pulse. Unease trailed along in its wake, but not enough for him to pull away. The heat would fade. Wouldn’t it? His host led him up a flight of circular stairs that opened into a cozy room filled with an eclectic mix of antiques and modern décor. Old tapestries held back the chill from the stone walls, and heavy velvet drapes of red and gold obscured the view. Large mass-produced pillows were strewn over a thick Persian rug, one that showed centuries of careful use. Modern art books had been scattered across a Chippendale table beside a big lounger. A comfortable room, decadent and masculine. A fire suitable for a rainy evening burned in a smoke-blackened fireplace wide enough for a man to sleep in. Jason blamed its heat for his suddenly sweaty palms. “Perhaps you would care to sit before the fireplace and allow your clothing to dry?” the man suggested. Nervousness had him rocking on his feet. He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and turned his back to the flames. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your furniture by getting it wet. I’ll stand here for a bit until I dry out.” The man nodded and approached a cabinet holding a myriad of crystal decanters. “You must have had a long and difficult journey. May I offer you something to drink?” “Sure. Whatever you have.” His throat had gone dry again. Jason prayed that a little alcohol would help him get past the lingering awkwardness. “Wine, I think. I have a very rare vintage which might appeal to you.” He removed an unlabeled amber bottle from the shelf. Jason’s heart started to race as he watched the man’s refined movements. Faint stirrings of arousal trickled through his system. He had to break the building sexual tension and blurted out the first question that came to him. “Erik… is he here? Can I speak with him?”

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To escape after another fight about his obsession with his fiancée, he’d started the journey toward the man’s house, hoping the artist would be willing to see him. There’d been no way to set up an appointment beforehand. No phone number existed for this location, and all his letters had been returned unopened. With each passing mile he’d been more certain his timing was perfect, until he encountered the storm. But surely fate wouldn’t let all of his hard work be for nothing. Not this time. “He is, and you may.” The blond man turned around, amusement brightening his green eyes. “I am he.” “You’re Erik the Painter?” Jason couldn’t believe it. The man was too… refined. Too… sexy… to be a living legend. Though common sense said that different painters had gone by the same name for the last four hundred years -- no one person could live that long -- they were all masters of the same unique style, as if the creative gift and training had been passed from father to son over countless generations. He’d expected someone mousy, perhaps with half-moon glasses and hair that looked like frustrated fingers had been run through it too many times. Not this model of male perfection. Erik held up his hands, palms out, to the firelight. Pigment stains coated his fingers in a mosaic of color. “I am indeed.” He returned his attention to his task and poured the wine into a crystal goblet while Jason tried to figure out what to say next. He’d spent years studying this man’s artwork which hung in some of the finest galleries around the world. This elusive painter was his idol. Now his carefully rehearsed questions piled up like a log jam in his head, and he couldn’t extract a single one. His throat remained parched, sweat slickened his palms, and he couldn’t focus on anything but the sensual beauty of the man before him. “Here, drink. The wine may help you recover.” The small smile flitting about his thin lips gave the suggestion a double meaning. Jason accepted the glass of deep red wine and concentrated on forcing out words to break the seductive spell weaving around him. “I’m here because I --”

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Erik flashed him a predatory grin which effectively robbed Jason of the ability to speak. “Yes, I know why you’re here. Probably better than you do.” Lord, the artist was sexy when he smiled. Jason couldn’t fathom why he found this man so attractive, but the fact was undeniable. His rapidly hardening cock pressed against the fly of his jeans as irrefutable evidence. Jason couldn’t remember ever being so suddenly and completely aroused by a woman let alone a man. “I’m not… that is, I usually don’t…” “For this one night, you are. Otherwise, you’d never have found me.” Before Jason could marshal a response, Erik plucked the glass from his trembling fingers. A few rosy drops sloshed over the side in the transfer, wetting Jason’s skin. Erik captured Jason’s hand and raised it to his mouth. “Let me take care of that for you.” Nervous perspiration added to the dampness along Jason’s spine as Erik’s pointed tongue licked away the intoxicating drops. Each deft touch burned his skin in the most sensual of ways. Panic quickened his heartbeat, but it didn’t quell the sexual heat smoldering in his gut. Though daunted by the prospect of becoming intimate with another male, Jason couldn’t force himself to move away. “Come, sit with me before the fire,” Erik suggested. “I really don’t think I should.” It was no longer damaging the expensive furnishings that worried him, but rather what damage might be done to him. “Why not?” “I just wanted to talk to you, get the answers to a few questions for my art history thesis. I’m not ready for anything else.” “The choice, of course, is yours.” The firelight rippled across the artist’s satin shirt as he set the glass aside, settled on the plush pillows and waited for Jason to make up his mind. Warm jade eyes repeated his invitation. One leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent up at the knee and causing the fabric of his pants to stretch over the bulge at his crotch. Jason gave a guilty start when he realized he was staring at the enticing bulge.

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Erik’s grin widened, and Jason understood that he had two choices. He could leave and give up any hope of getting his questions answered, or he could stay… with all that implied… and maybe learn something. And, well, he loved this man’s art. Couldn’t he allow himself to love the artist a little too, just this once?

Chapter 3 A Lesson in Love Jason removed his shoes slowly and knelt beside Erik on the pillows. “I don’t understand any of this,” he said. “I didn’t come here expecting… I mean, I’m not into men, and yet I can’t walk away from you.” “It is fated that I give part of myself to you this night. Need our time together be more complicated than that?” The man’s answer didn’t really explain anything. Jason breathed in the subtle, masculine scent of this beautiful man and found he no longer cared why, just that it was happening. “Kiss me,” Erik suggested in a throaty purr, saving Jason the trouble of wondering what his next move should be. Jason leaned down and fitted his lips to the artist’s. They fit together as naturally as though they’d kissed a thousand times before. Erik’s mouth opened in invitation and Jason’s tongue dove in, eager for a taste. Wine lingered there, though he hadn’t seen Erik take a sip. He discovered a hint of spice, too, perhaps from a recently smoked clove cigarette. Erik’s tongue toyed with his in the most erotic foreplay Jason had ever experienced, and it was a long spell before he pulled away. With a swift jerk, he removed his now overly warm sweater and cast the bulky material aside. Erik smiled in appreciation upon seeing the skin he revealed. He reached out to trace the curve of Jason’s sculpted abs. “You look lovely with the firelight setting your skin aglow. I shall paint you just as you are now, unsure but eager, brave and curious, and oh, so beautiful.” Jason’s heart thundered in his chest. “You want to paint me?”

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“Yes. Now that I have seen your face, I know I must. But first I will share a piece of my soul with you.” A blush stained Jason’s cheeks and he hoped the dim light would hide his reaction. He hadn’t felt this awkward with a lover since his first attempts at sex in junior high. But when the artist reached for him, all such distracting thoughts fled. Jason leaned down once more and pressed his body against Erik’s, using his weight to encourage the other man to recline. With his hair falling away from his face, Erik’s features stood out more prominently. Jason traced the curve of cheek and jaw. The man looked like a Viking, ruggedly handsome and bold enough to meet any challenge fate threw at him. “Come. Rest between my legs.” Jason hesitated. Though his football days were over, his beefy build remained. He had to outweigh the painter by thirty or forty pounds. “I’m not exactly a lightweight.” Another slow, sexy smile crossed the artist’s face. “All the better.” A low growl rumbled in Jason’s chest. He settled himself into the cradle of Erik’s body. Their cocks bumped and slid against each other through their clothes. Instead of cooling his desire, the contact inflamed his need. His large hands cupped Erik’s strong shoulders from underneath. With their mouths scant inches apart, Jason whispered, “Is this okay?” “Very much so.” His eyes drifted closed as Erik’s lips rubbed over the skin at his throat. Nips and licks ensued, further stirring his arousal. The man seemed to know exactly where and how to touch him to bring out the greatest pleasure. Jason’s hips shifted restlessly. He wanted to somehow get closer to the artist, to eliminate all barriers between them. “My shirt… is in the way. Will you help me remove it?” Since the request dovetailed with Jason’s desires, he sat up and straddled Erik’s thighs. One by one, his clumsy fingers slipped the buttons free. The satin material fell

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away to reveal an unblemished expanse of manly chest. Jason ran his hands over the bare flesh, and Erik rewarded him with a low hiss of pleasure. “The constriction of my pants is becoming… uncomfortable. Would you mind assisting me with that as well?” Was he really about to get intimate with another man’s cock? Jason decided not to consider the ramifications. Instead he let his fingers drift down to the slim black belt at Erik’s waist. Seconds later, the buckle loosened and he had freed the button. The zipper parted on its own from the pressure of Erik’s engorged cock, which threatened to escape a pair of black bikini briefs. “Perhaps you would benefit from similar freedom?” Erik suggested, running the back of his fingers over a sizable bulge in Jason’s jeans. Jason nodded slowly and let his hands hang at his sides as he watched Erik peel him out of his still-damp jeans. He’d worn boxers that morning, so his cock sprang free from the wide opening almost immediately. His shaft arched up and out, toward the painter, who stroked the underside of it with the backs of his colorful fingers. “Very impressive,” Erik murmured appreciatively. “Let us reveal the rest of you.” By the time Jason stood up, stripped off his hiking boots, underwear and socks, and turned back around, Erik had removed the remainder of his own clothing. He was lean from head to toe, yet not at all frail. The curls on his chest formed an arrow that pointed to his sex which lay flat and tall against his belly. His cock looked to be more than a fistful, with an uncut head. Ropey veins traversed the length of it. His balls lay snug against his body, already drawing tight with need. Need for him. Jason could barely breathe through the desire constricting his chest. “Shall we see how well we fit together now?” Erik suggested. Jason, spellbound, covered the artist with his body once more. Everywhere he touched the man he met the firm resistance of muscle and bone. This encounter was so different from any of his previous sexual experiences and yet being with Erik seemed

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perfectly right. Whatever insanity gripped him now, Jason prayed he wouldn’t regret his actions come morning. Erik’s arms slipped around his neck, bringing him close for a deep kiss. “I know you are nervous, Jason, but I promise you will experience more pleasure than pain.” The thought of pain bothered Jason less than the knowledge of where he’d feel it. He might be on top now, but he harbored no illusions about where he’d end up. Having a rudimentary understanding of the mechanics involved didn’t give him a license to drive. He could only sit back and trust that the painter knew what he was doing. “Perhaps a small demonstration will ease your concerns.” Erik reached over his head and searched under the pillows until he came up with a small tube. “Close your eyes and kiss me.” Now that was something he could do. Jason fit his mouth to Erik’s and kissed him deeply. Their tongues caressed each other, feeding Jason’s lust and blanketing him in a sexual haze. Erik’s hands roamed over his back. Occasionally a finger dipped into the crevasse of his ass, but Jason tried not to let that distract him. Too many other new sensations assailed him, such as the rough scratching of stubble against his face, the sleek, well-muscled body under him, and the hard, damp cock that brushed against him every time it pulsed with lust. The fingers retreated and when they returned they were far cooler than he’d expected. He jolted. “My apologies. I should have warmed the tube before the fire.” As Jason searched his mind, he didn’t find the panic he’d been expecting upon reaching this point. “No, no. It’s okay. It’s just…weird.” The first finger pushed against the bundle of nerves surrounding his anus, sending a flurry of erotic messages up his spine. Penetration was slow. The painter flexed his finger back and forth, so gentle and yet persistent, coaxing the tissue to widen to accommodate the intrusion. The unique entry felt odd but not unpleasant, maybe even a little arousing. “Are you comfortable?” Erik asked. “Does this cause you pain?”

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“No… no pain.” Eric’s finger slid deeper, pushing past the tight ring of muscle. Instinctively Jason squeezed tight. Erik stilled, and Jason relaxed a little, allowing the finger to delve further. Once he could go no further, the artist’s finger retreated, then entered again, this time with more ease. In and out, slightly twisting, grinding. The familiar motion repeated itself in unfamiliar territory, and Jason found a small measure of pleasure in the friction. Instead of worrying about the next step, he lost himself in the sensation. He rocked with the thrusts, rubbing his hard cock against Erik’s, feeling the other man’s pre-cum slicken their glide. A second finger joined the first. In a few seconds the new pressure eased and his enjoyment doubled. His heart raced at the prospect of welcoming another man -- this man -- into his body. He began to anticipate a time when he’d be completely filled by the painter’s hot, hard shaft. Jason’s hips pumped faster, fucking Erik’s belly as the painter’s talented fingers fucked his ass. “So responsive. You are indeed a treasure.” Jason didn’t know how to respond, so he said nothing. Another finger entered him, but it only reminded him of how much emptiness yet remained. The desire to feel Eric fully, completely filling him, gnawed at his loins. He wiggled, clenching the fingers that stretched him, trying to force them deeper. “You ache here.” Erik curled his fingers inside the cavity that held them. He hit a spot that left Jason gasping for breath as an erotic shockwave rolled over him. “Yes?” “Yes,” Jason bit out. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.” Erik shook his head, and the firelight set his curls aflame. Those jade green eyes burned with a certainty that was palpable. “With you, it shall be making love.” Jason mourned the loss of those talented fingers the instant they retreated. Before he could protest, the tube of lubricant reappeared and Erik asked, “Will you prepare me?” After filling his palm with a large amount of the clear gel, he pumped Erik’s cock until the long length glistened. He squeezed hard, causing the throbbing column to

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flush a deep red. Fascinated by the new experience of playing with another man’s cock, Jason continued to stroke him long after the gel had been evenly distributed. Erik nudged Jason’s hand away. His sensual purr changed to gravelly need as he ordered, “Now, straddle me as you did before but squat down.” Jason’s thighs, strengthened from years of weightlifting, bunched with the effort of slowly lowering himself onto Erik’s erection. The lubricant helped only a little to soothe the deep burn created when the head of Erik’s cock slipped into his virgin hole. Instinctively, he clenched his muscles against the intrusion. The painter gasped, and Jason could feel his whole body tighten under him. He paused in his motions as embarrassment flooded his face. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… I don’t know what I’m doing here.” “I could ask for no better bed partner, I assure you. Relax,” Erik encouraged as he stroked Jason’s erection. The pleasure of being fondled did ease the panic tightening his chest, and after a few seconds Jason let his muscles loosen. Erik’s cock sank in another inch. A deep breath helped to steady him, and Jason repeated the process with his gluts, pushing out and pulling in, until bit by bit the painter’s rigid erection filled him. When the other man’s balls tickled his ass, he rested and gave his body time to adjust to the feeling of being stretched wide open. Sweat dripped from his body, but his spirit soared on the wings of the new, intense sensations rolling through him. “Incredible,” he whispered, looking down into Erik’s face. “From here, it only gets better.” Erik slipped his hands under Jason’s butt and helped him rise a few inches. The pressure receded, and Jason sank back down. The artist’s cock teased him, never completely filling him or completely abandoning him. Again and again, Erik guided him with immense patience. It didn’t take Jason long to pick up the slow, steady rhythm. “Yes, that is perfect,” Erik hissed. “Ride me.”

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Letting loose his earlier restraint, and his concerns, Jason did so with wild abandon. Raising and lowering himself on Erik’s thick shaft sent tremendous waves of pleasure through his body. As the artist rose up, Jason ground down, forcing him so deep inside him he thought his intimate skin might split open. Blood rushed into his engorged cock until it too hovered on the verge of bursting. In the firelight the head took on a ruddy complexion against the alabaster skin of his belly. Pre-cum gleamed from its tip. He watched Erik lovingly wrap his fingers around the shaft, stroking lightly. “Can you come for me? Like this?” “Yeah, oh fuck yeah.” Even now the rising tide of orgasm gathered in Jason’s balls, building fast, much as the freak thunderstorm had overtaken him earlier. Electric currents tickled his skin, even where sweat matted the fine dark hairs to his flesh. “Do it. Release your own essence so that I may fill you with mine,” Erik pleaded. Jason leaned forward, his hands resting on Erik’s ribcage. His cock now rode in the muscular channel bisecting Erik’s stomach, guided by the artist’s hand. Jason thrust his hips forward and then rocked back, both fucking and being fucked. Pain spiked through him as Erik’s cock continued to thicken inside him, but the resulting erotic stimulation smothered any thought left in his brain except nearly unbearable pleasure. Erik sped up his pace. Jason gritted his teeth, trying to cling to the edge of his sanity, but the effort was wasted. Climax seized his balls in a painfully tight grip. He tossed his head back and let out a groan that even the heavy patter of rain against the windows couldn’t drown out. He shuddered and cried out again as cum spilled from his cock to splash across Erik’s chest in long, white ropes. The tremors seemed endless, and Jason couldn’t remember coming so hard in his life. “Oh, beautiful… yes.” Erik raised his head and captured Jason’s lips in a crushing kiss. There was so much power in this man’s arms. Though smaller, he clung to Jason with a giant’s strength. He sat up, taking Jason with him. Gravity pulled Jason down firmly on Erik’s engorged shaft. The large organ quivered inside him. Jason imagined

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he could feel every vein along the length of that cock against the walls of his now tender channel. A low rumble filled the room as Erik stilled under him. When he again arched up off the floor, the storm raged anew around the manor house. The glass rattled in its panes as though it were desperate to break free. Lightning flared… not outside but seemingly within the room. Jason would have fled the house then if he could, but his body was locked so tightly with Erik’s that their connection seemed unbreakable. “Take me! Take me!” Erik cried. Jason didn’t understand the artist’s request, but the only requirement seemed to be for him to accept what was happening between them. Just as Jason reached that conclusion, white-hot fire shot through Jason’s body. It was as if the interior lightning had struck him, fragmenting his soul. He took a gasping breath, one he thought might very well be his last. “Jason!” Erik screamed. The stone room echoed with his cry. The pieces of Jason’s soul that had scattered now coalesced into a column of white light. A substance much like smoke curled through the center of his reborn soul… fused with it. The light poured over him in a shower of positive energy. With the intense rush came an unearthly sense of pleasure the likes of which Jason had never known. He’d died and was on his way to heaven. Jason was sure of it. As the seconds ticked by, Jason waited to be transported from the mortal plane. Instead, his body sank lower. For a moment he feared he was destined to spend eternity in hell, but under him Erik moaned and Jason realized they were only settling back to the floor. Blood hammered through his veins with enough force to actually shake him. He ventured a tremulous breath. Holy shit. He was still alive.

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Jason collapsed against the painter’s chest, no longer having the strength to hold his own body up. Erik wrapped him in a snug embrace. Their breathing slowly drifted back into a natural rhythm. The air around them returned to normal as well, and the storm outside settled down to a quiet light rain. “I wish that I could take you again and again, for once with you is but a beginning,” Erik admitted softly as he nuzzled against Jason’s hair. “There is more of the night ahead. Can we not spend it together… as lovers?” The formal phrasing fell awkwardly from his lips, yet Jason meant every word. Happiness and desire blazed in Erik’s green eyes. “Yes, there is. Until dawn, if you wish.” “I do.” Whatever strange compulsion caused him to behave so wantonly with this man hadn’t burned itself out after one release. Until tonight, he never would have fathomed that he could enjoy sex with a man, let alone be so overcome by passion that he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He craved more. The words from his last argument with his fiancée echoed back to him, and Jason could now admit that he had probably been half in love with Erik the Painter for years. His questions about the man and his artwork hadn’t been answered, nor was it likely that his curiosity would be satisfied on this night or any other, Jason realized. And still he wanted to stay, to learn the art of love from this man, to love him fully… if only for a night. Flickering images of what they could do to fill the next few hours broke into his train of thought. His cock pulsed with rising interest. He looked down into Erik’s eyes and saw that the painter’s desire was banked only by self-control. Erik reached up and stroked Jason’s cheek in a gentle caress. “Return to my arms, dear one, and let us begin the lover’s dance again.” And, as the artist took him to the heights of ecstasy once more, Jason decided that just maybe more important things existed in the world than lessons in art history.

Chapter 4 A Painter’s Price Dawn’s pink light climbed over the mountaintops surrounding the manor house as the sound of a car’s engine faded into the distance. The sky was clear, and there was no visible trace of the storm’s savagery. There never was. Erik turned away from the window. Naked and still bearing the ravages of their passionate love-making, he climbed the stairs to his studio in the castle’s highest tower. Fresh supplies waited for him. He smoked a clove cigarette -- one vice he could still indulge in as smoking hadn’t come into fashion until long after he’d been cursed -- and finalized the image he wanted to capture in his mind. Then he began to create. The paint spread over the canvas like magic. Oh, it still took his talented hands and his mental vision to create a painting, but each stroke was perfection. Undoubtedly, this would be another masterpiece. One a museum or collector would never see. Something about the look of the young man taking shape triggered a memory. One of a fresh-faced boy of peasant stock, eager to engage in his first gay tryst. Erik thanked whatever God existed that he’d never had a chance to take away his shining innocence for his own selfish wants. After applying the last touch, Erik left the canvas to dry and walked through the maze of staircases and hallways to reach his private gallery in the old dining hall. He had no need for food. The paintings sustained him. As he passed each one, he ran his fingers over the gold nameplates below them. Max. Luciano. Richard. Uillem. These names and several hundred more passed under his fingertips, each one a reminder of the price he paid for his art. He’d loved them each well, and then let them go. He’d had no choice.

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Eventually he came to a fresh expanse along the wall. Already a small plaque, bright and shiny gold, hung in place. Jason. Another piece of his soul gone, given to this special young man. A gift the art history student would use to become one of the best at his specialty. Erik was a little less human for having bedded him, but the joy of giving a piece of himself to this special man more than made up for the loss. The mage’s magic had accepted his payment and permitted him another year of creation. Once upon a time he had considered his sentence too harsh. Now, with the wisdom of the ages, he knew there could be no true art without sacrifice. His best work was done when he felt the struggles and joys of humanity in each of his lovers. It was this element that made these paintings so special. Grief. Success. Loss. Love. Pain. Change. The list was as varied as the men themselves. Putting paint on canvas in a pleasing configuration was no longer enough. He had to experience life through the men he loved, and then capture their essence for eternity. A chilly breeze spun through the windowless room where there had never been so much as a draft before. A shiver of unearthly power skittered down Erik’s spine. Though centuries had passed since he’d last seen the man who cursed him, Erik hadn’t forgotten the feel of his presence. “Greetings, mage.” “So civil now.” There was a smile in his tone that grated on Erik’s nerves. “The years have rubbed off a few of my rougher edges.” “Have they?” Fabric rustled, and Erik sensed the man was moving closer to him. Unlike the last time they met, he felt no need to cover himself. The mage had turned his life upside down, inside out. He had nothing left to hide. “Aye. Perhaps not all, but most.” The mage reached around him and ran his finger over Jason’s nameplate. “This one is different to you than the others. Why?”

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Erik shook his head, not wanting anything bad to happen to the young man because of him. “He is just a vessel. I have paid my dues to you. I am grateful to him for that, nothing more.” “You dare lie to me?” The mage’s voice held the promise of anger. “It is not a lie. I am grateful to Jason.” He wouldn’t allow himself to think of more because there couldn’t be any more. He’d learned that painful lesson early on. Love them, and let them go… but with Jason, the pain of never seeing him again lingered like a physical ache deep in his bones. “You wish to have him back, though?” Erik silently fumed, wondering why the mage needed to tease him this way. “Aye.” “What about this one?” the mage asked, pointing to a painting down the wall. Adian. Sexy in a kittenish way. Very sweet. And so smart. They’d enjoyed a long talk after fantastic sex. But… he wasn’t Jason. “Special, to be sure, but I knew him a decade ago. Surely his life has moved on by now.” “And that would matter to you?” “Of course.” At one time it might not have, Erik was ashamed to admit. But now he would not disrupt another’s life for his own selfish needs. Not even Jason’s. “I see. What if I said it might be possible to bring Jason back to you?” Erik curled his hands into fists as he turned to face the man who hadn’t aged a day over the centuries, either. “I would wonder why you were being so cruel. They stay only a night. It has always been thus.” “But if he could return,” the mage pressed, “what would you do?” The words he hadn’t been willing to admit to himself earlier now tumbled from his lips. “Love him. Endlessly.” “You would keep him here, a prisoner with you?” Erik shook his head. “No. I would help him with his studies and see that he got everything he wanted from life… including his freedom. I only want him to be happy.”

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The answer hung in the air between them. The mage’s face remained blank, and when he spoke again there was a hint of tenderness in his tone. “What would you sacrifice to have him back?” “I have nothing left of value except…” Could he mean what Erik suspected? “Yes?” the mage prompted. “My art. I would give up painting to be with him.” “You would give up that which defines you, which makes you special, for a commoner?” “Yes. Gladly.” He still loved painting, but if he could do nothing more than draw stick figures on the walls he would be happy with Jason in his life. One night should not have left so deep an impression on him, but the truth was undeniable. Just not, according to the mage’s curse, possible. The mage stepped back a few paces and drew his cloak tight about him. He mumbled a few words Erik couldn’t hear, except for the last. “So mote it be.” Erik waited for the house to tremble, for his heart to explode, for something to happen. Yet all remained peaceful and quiet inside his private art gallery. Amusement cracked the mage’s enigmatic mask and he cocked his head to the side as if straining to hear something in the distance. “Is that the sound of a car approaching?” Without pausing for any rational thought, Erik raced through the house as though there were a demon on his heels. An antique vase broke in his wake and he didn’t spare a thought for it either. By the time he got to the door and threw it open, a heavy rain had started. Still, that didn’t drown out the sight of a car approaching. Jason’s car. He waited under the deluge of water, still naked, watching the car roll to a stop and the man he loved get out of the driver’s seat. Though every muscle in his body was prepared to run to him, Erik waited. Jason rubbed his arms as though the cold bothered him more than the rain. “Uh… Hi.”

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“Hello.” The young man took a step toward him, and Erik matched that step. “Errr… how are you?” “Very, very happy to see you again.” Another step brought them closer together, almost close enough to touch. Still Erik held back. Jason had to make the first move. He wouldn’t push. “Sorry I left like that… you know, before you got up.” “I understand.” And he did, far better than Jason. All his lovers left without saying goodbye. In the early years, that had annoyed him to no end. Now, Erik realized it was a blessing. No explanations required, no empty promises about someday meeting up again. Not even an awkward morning after cup of coffee that he could offer, but couldn’t share. “I came back because the road is washed out. A mudslide…” Jason ran a hand through his sodden hair, and then glared at him, defiant. “To hell with it. I came back because I wanted to.” Erik closed the remaining distance and wrapped his arms around the larger man. The whoosh of breath leaving Jason’s lungs was audible, even over the rain. Erik covered Jason’s mouth with his own, hot, hungry and near mad with desire for this brave, wonderful, special young man. Rain continued to fall in buckets. The wind howled around them, not angry but rather laughing at the two fools who didn’t have the common sense between them to go inside where it was warm and dry. Jason pulled back from their heated kisses. “I don’t understand my need for you. You’re all I can think about.” Erik felt the admission strike deep in his core. He tightened his grip on the young man’s waist. “Who can explain magic?” Jason fought his way out of his wet sweater and let it land behind him on the hood of the car with a wet plop. Erik backed him up against the passenger door and

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attacked his nipples with tongue and teeth. The young man’s moans were music to Erik’s ears. Jason tugged on Erik’s hair, bringing his head up and their mouths together again. In between fevered kisses, Jason begged, “Take me. Out here. Don’t be gentle.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” The rapid rush of blood to his cock left Erik dizzy. His fingers fumbled with the catch on Jason’s jeans. The young man kicked off his boots to land in a nearby puddle with a splash. Together they stripped him of the wet fabric. Erik again marveled at the young man’s physical perfection. Broad shoulders, trim waist, rock hard thighs, and genitals any marble statue would be proud to display. Erik devoured Jason’s kisses, pulling them deep into him, his tongue coaxing more from his lover’s sweet lips. His hands settled on Jason’s ass, kneading the muscles there, his fingertips grazing across the valley between. A low growl emanated from Jason’s throat. His hips moved back and forth, grinding their cocks together. “Need you,” he whispered, his voice rough with passion. “And I, you,” Erik replied. He pushed the young man down on the hood of the car. “Wrap your legs around me.” Rain sufficiently slicked his finger so it entered Jason’s tight hole with little resistance. The young man arched up, forcing his hips down so that his thick finger would penetrate further. “So eager,” Erik said, chuckling. Jason was a joy to be with in any fashion, but Erik knew he’d never tire of the man’s sexual side. Soft wet sounds floated around them as they kissed hungrily. With his free hand, Erik milked Jason’s cock, squeezing and softly jerking, teasing the clear pre-cum from its purple head. Jason rocked back and forth between the heavenly torture of finger and fist. He bit at the muscular column of Erik’s neck, sucking on the pulse beating so strongly under his pale skin. “Yes… please… more.”

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Erik watched Jason’s face contort in a mixture of pleasure and erotic agony. Before the rain could wash the sticky pre-cum away, Erik brought his hand to the young man’s mouth. “Lick me.” Jason sucked on his fingers greedily, licking the pad of each with the tip of his tongue, moaning around them. His own fingers raked Erik’s chest until they scored his nipples, then he twisted them, seemingly too wild with need to be gentle. Erik growled as Jason’s nails broke the surface of his skin, small streaks of red dots appearing across his chest. He slipped a second finger into Jason’s hole, all at once and quick enough for the young man’s body not to offer resistance. Slowly he began to work Jason’s anus, amused at how his hips lifted from the hood of the car, his pink pucker raised up and offered fully. Fingers still knuckle-deep in Jason, Erik leaned down and kissed Jason’s wet mouth ferociously. Jason dug his heels into Erik’s back, lifting his ass up even further. His fingers dove through Erik’s golden curls, tugging him closer -- as if that were possible. Needy moans escaped his throat in a constant stream. His free hand reached down for Erik’s thick cock and tugged. “Want it… want you… please.” Grinning at Jason’s plea, he spread his fingers apart, opening Jason’s ass, then letting him relax, before stretching it again. Jason bucked against his hand, signaling his readiness and need. Erik let his fingers slip from his lover’s sphincter, only to replace them with his painfully erect cock, pushing in slowly, but aggressively, until he was fully seated in Jason’s warm body. His heels repeatedly pressed into Erik’s back, goading him on. Jason’s hands returned to Erik’s chest, raking his skin, and then he kissed him so hard that his lips felt bruised. Erik slammed into Jason’s ass, every thrust pushing him forward, jolting him hard. Growling and biting at Jason’s neck, Erik poured words of lust and desire into Jason’s ear. That familiar burning began to tingle in Erik’s balls. They quickly tightened up against his body, ready to let loose their load. “Jason! I am so close,” he bit out, pistoning in and out with a savage force.

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In response, Jason tightened his internal muscles to hold Erik’s cock in a vise-like grip. His body arched off the hood, his nails digging painfully into Erik’s chest. With a mighty wail, Jason released his seed. Long ropes of creamy cum splattered over both of them. Nothing could hold Erik’s orgasm back now. Stars burst behind his eyes as he filled Jason’s ass with his seed. So powerful was his release that he couldn’t even whisper Jason’s name past the tightness in his throat. The spasms seemed endless, and Jason continued to milk his cock for every last drop. Finally his body could take no more, and Erik collapsed on top of the young man. Their arms wrapped around each other, tightly binding them together. Their chests brushed with every ragged breath as the rain continued to fall upon them. “That was…” Erik silenced him with a tender kiss. And another. And another. Their joining had been beyond his wildest dreams. He needed a moment to absorb the deep emotions Jason had set loose in him. Long moments passed as they rested. Now that their immediate passion was spent, cold quickly seeped into Erik’s skin. When Jason shivered under him, he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling the chill. Though loath to move, he suggested, “Let us go inside.” “Is it always going to storm like this when we have sex?” Jason asked as they walked toward the front door that Erik had left open in his earlier haste. Erik stopped him for a hard, fast kiss. “Making love,” he corrected. Then, thinking of the mage’s sense of humor, he added, “And yes, it is quite likely to rain.” “Might want to consider moving to a drought area then,” Jason suggested with a laugh. “Later. For now, I wish only to enjoy you. Is that too much to ask?” Jason waited until he finished closing the door before answering, “There is nothing you can’t ask of me.” “And there is nothing I wouldn’t give for you,” Erik replied.

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Time would tell how the mage’s incantation had changed his life. If it meant having Jason with him, even only for a short while, any sacrifice would be worth it. For Jason, he’d gladly pay a painter’s price.

Kira Stone Kira Stone lives in a warm, many-chambered cave tucked away in the Scottish Highlands. A small band of ever-changing heroes keeps her company. As they relax in front of a roaring fire, devils dance and angels sing her bawdy songs. Faerie folk often stop in for a cup of mulled wine and to listen to her spin a yarn or two. And when daylight turns to dusk, together they somehow find a way to keep the cold, uncaring world at bay for another night… Okay, maybe not. LOL. When Kira isn’t living in a fantasy world, she’s writing about one from her ordinary house in Ohio with a few feline companions (who don’t sing nearly as well as the angels do). Is it any wonder she prefers the cave? You can check out Kira’s website at http://www.kirastonebooks.com, or join her Yahoo! group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/kirastonebooks.