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He looked up at Art's mother, "Michael'. Please."
Pausing only for a second, she continued. "So, 'Michael', how do you like it around here?"
"Well, the people are great, the air is clean, and the town life is fun. Other than the school administration, I love it here."
It had been three days since their reprimanding by Principal Parker, but Arthur knew Michael was still fuming. "It's Mr. Parker, Mom. He caught us making out in the courtyard at lunch. Earned ourselves a butt-load of detention."
"Well, you know I support you 100%. But so called normal society isn't quite ready for that in mainstream public. If you'd like, I can call the Super Intendant."
"No, that's okay. That would make things even worse."
Besides", Michael spoke up, "It was my fault. I practically leapt on him without any warning."
She burst out laughing, nearly choking on her spaghetti al pesto. "Oh, my! I'm surprised Arty didn't have a heart attack...."
Art looked mortified, "Mom....!"
She regained her composure, "I'm sorry Arthur. But you're such a prude. You're even afraid to be seen looking through bodybuilder magazines in the book store..."
Michael was tremorring with barely contained laughter as Art shot him a look of reproach. His anger quickly evaporated. Those sparkiling eyes, that adorable little half smile. Damn! Why did he have to be so cute?
Art chuckled finally, as Michael's laughter became infectious. "Aww, c'mon Arty. That is kinda funny...."
Finally, Art burst out laughing. "Okay, okay, it's funny. Just a little."
The laughter finally tapered and Art's mom spoke. "Well I'm glad to have finally met you, Michael. I can plainly see what a good influence you've had on my son." __________________________________________________ ___
After dinner, Art was seeing his mom off to the door. She straightened his hair, and ran her hand down over his cheek affectionately. "He's a charming, and wonderful boy, Arthur. I'm glad to see that I pased on my good taste in men", She leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, "And what a bod...!"
Flushed with embarrassment, he urgently whispered, "Mom, he'll hear you....!"
"Oh, Artie, honestly. Now, I'll be out late. I don't care what you two do. Just be safe, okay hon?"
"Okay, goodnight son."
She left, and Art watched from the door's window until the car was well out of sight before returning to the Living Room. Michael was looking at the pictures and portraits on the mantle. He looked good. Well, he always looked good. But tonight he looked exceptionally good. A dark gray bowling shirt with a bright casino motif open over a form fitting green t-shirt, and slightly snug faded blue jeans that nicely showcased the thickness of his legs and pert glutes. His thick mane of lustrous black hair was neatly combed while still gelled to maintain its usual wild look. His deep Italian skin seemed to glow in the fire's flickering light as his deep brown eyes captured it.
Turning slowly, as if sensing that he was being watched, he looked at Art. "What...?"
Art leaned comfortably in the doorway. He never felt awkward with Michael. Like he could always do or say anything without fear of mockery, or ridicule. It was one of his greatest attributes. The looks and body were just a bonus at that point.
"Oh, I was just admiring the view."
With a quirky-but-befuddled smile, he pointed to the other side of the room that looked out over the lower half of town, "Window's that way."
He never seemed to be aware of his own hotness. Even when told of it. Art walked slowly toward him. He slipped his arms around the tiny waist, and nuzzled the side of Michael's neck. The skin was smooth and warm, tasted sweet. The cords of muscle there felt good against his lips and tongue.
He whispered into Michael's ear which glinted with a diamond stud. "I wasn't referring to the widow."
Michael shuddered slightly with pleasure, "Wh-what's got you so worked up?"
Art walked around behind him, keeping his arms in place, but moving his hands to Michael's stomach. The t-shirt had a slightly silky quality, and Arthur could feel the hard ridges of Michael's eight-pack abs through the fabric. He rubbed his hands up and down while he kissed tenderly along the width of the back of Michael's neck.
His voice was low. Not seductive, but strangely enticing. "Oh, nothing in particular. I'm just feeling....inspired tonight. And you're what I'm drawing inspiration from."
Michael sighed contentedly, leaning his head to the side and back. "I...don't see why. I'm just an average guy."
Arthur breathed in Michael's cologne. It was a scent he couldn't place, but intoxicating. CK, maybe, Gravity...? Knowing him, it was probably something stylish yet organic. He slid his hands up to Michael's bulky, rounded pecs. Thick and fully developed, they were actually a bit bigger built than the rest of him. Well, with one exception. Michael's nipples were hard, and easily felt through the shirt as Arthur tantalized them with his index fingers. Michael gasped lightly.
"You're anything but average. You're everything I want. You're everything I've ever wanted...."
Michael tried to regain his composure. Grabbed Art's hands. He pulled away, turning to look Art in the eye. "Really? Is that the truth?"
Arthur stumbled slightly as Michael pulled away but caught himself. A look of confusion crossed his face at the sudden change in mood. His tone bespoke his sudden consternation "Yes. I could never lie about that."
Michael looked into his eyes, and Art felt as if he was searching his very soul. His expression was troubled, but soon cleared as if he found what he was looking for. Michael walked to the couch and sat, leaning forward with his hands folded between his knees. For a moment, he looked like a little kid.
"I was....beginning to wonder...."
Art's expression blanched as he sat down next to Michael. "About what?"
Michael thought for a few moments before answering. "About how you really felt. I know you love art, and you love to create. It's your passion. You give yourself to it entirely when you do it. It's why your work is so incredible."
Art looked confused now. "I don't understand what you're saying. What does that have to do with how I feel about you?"
Michael felt guilty now. "I wasn't sure you could do that with me. Like, all you really felt for me was lust. Nothing more."
Art smiled reassuringly, and Michael instantly felt better. Arthur took his hand, and squeezed it tightly as he looked into his eyes. "Michael, I have to tell you something. That portrait i did of you as an angel....?"
He shook his head, "Uh-huh..."
That was the first picture I've ever had in the display case. Don't you see? It's because of you that my work has become so good. You've become my inspiration. What I feel for you I can't even put into words. Since the night I saw you in the pizzeria, I've wanted you in every way!"
Michael looked stunned. "Really....?!"
"Yes! Oh my god, the way I feel when I'm drawing? Like I'm in my own little world, like all the hurt and pain in the world doesn't matter, and can never reach me? That's how you make me feel! Whenever I'm with you, you make it feel like everything is perfect. I've never felt like that."
Speechless, Michael looked at Art's pleading expression, "I...I had no idea. You never said anything."
"I know. and I'm sorry. I should've..." Art was cut off as without a moment's hesitation, Michael moved forward and pressed his lips to Arthur's. He pushed against Arthur's body, forcing him into a lying position on the couch and laid on top of him.
Arthur readily accomodated, allowing Michael's tongue into his mouth as he set his own to work. His mouth tasted even sweeter than his skin, and his tongue was long, thick and hot.
Michael pulled away long enough to remove the overshirt, and recommenced the liplock. He wrapped his powerful arms around and under Arthur's thin body, and squeezed Art's legs between his own powerful thighs.
Art revelled in the feel of Michael's weight on him as he returned his arms to Michael's waist, only putting his hands squarely on Michael's tight ass. Michael tightened his buttocks, sending a thrill through Arthur as he moved his kisses lower to Art's neck.
Arthur could feel every bulging, flexing inch of Michael's torso against his body as well as the power and thickness of his quads as they squeezed his own narrow legs together and his bulky package pressed against his pelvis. He could feel his own modest 6" getting hard. But it was nothing compared to the feeling of Michael's gigantic cock swelling and pushing down hard on his. Was it his imagination, or was Michael getting heavier....?
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