Page 25 of Paint Our Song (Cloverlily #1)

M iles takes off toward Calvin’s room. He rushes to the lobby, jabbing at the elevator buttons. It takes too long, so Miles sprints up the staircase instead, taking the steps two at a time.

When he passes by Chase’s room, he can hear him speaking, and Gil’s in there, too. Turns out their batteries haven’t depleted, either.

He stops in front of Calvin’s room and knocks on the door. At first, there’s no response, so he knocks even harder—he could give up and leave, but he won’t. He’ll wake him up if it’s the last thing he does.

There’s shuffling from the other side of the room, then the door opens. Calvin blinks slowly at him, drowsy, and his hair’s a mess on one side from where he fell asleep on it. He hasn’t changed out of Miles’s suit, his tie still loose around his neck.

“Why are you panting?” Calvin murmurs. He narrows his eyes, as if he’s still trying to refocus, as if his brain hasn’t caught up yet, and Miles steps inside the room.

“Totally not because I ran up the stairs.”

Calvin squints. “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” Miles says, gently closing the door behind him. Before Calvin can say anything else, he puts his hands on Calvin’s cheeks and kisses him.

“Miles?” Calvin asks when he pulls away, and he’s definitely more awake now, eyes wide and face flush. He holds Miles’s wrist and rubs a thumb against his skin.

“We’re booked out.”

“That’s great. How’d that happen?”

“Your band went viral and reached more than a hundred thousand people.”

Bewildered, Calvin asks, “Why the hell would that many people watch a wedding?”

It’s always funny to him when Calvin talks like he has no idea how big of a name their band has, and the effect they have in general. Miles can’t contain his happiness and kisses him again, pulling away only to get his words out before diving right back in. “You’re—you and the band—you’re fucking amazing. I’m serious, I owe you all everything. I don’t know how I’ll be able to repay you.”

“It’s nothing,” Calvin manages to say, all breathy and deep. He keeps saying it’s nothing, but it’s definitely everything. “Chase and Gil were happy to be there. We haven’t played in a wedding in for—”

Miles kisses him again, holds him by the back of his head, and walks him backward. Calvin lets him—and he’d stumble if Miles didn’t have such a tight grip on him, guiding him, until the back of his knees hit the bed. They both tumble down on it, Miles on top of him, and he props himself up with his elbows on either side of Calvin’s face.

“You going to thank me now?” Calvin teases. “Do stupid, unspeakable things like you said?”

“I don’t know where to start,” Miles says, pressing his mouth against Calvin’s neck. He sits up to pull Calvin’s tie off and slowly pops his buttons open, one by one, keeping his eyes on Calvin’s the entire time. He snakes his hand inside his shirt, feeling Calvin’s warm skin underneath his fingers.

Calvin swallows and his eyes darken.

There’s still so much Miles wants to do with him. They haven’t even gone past blow jobs, and he’s not sure where Calvin’s head is at when it comes to other things, so Miles hasn’t brought it up in case Calvin’s not there yet.

But with the way Calvin’s looking at him right now—

Calvin’s lip wobbles as if he’s working himself up to say something. Then, he murmurs, “There’s lube and condoms in my bag.”

Oh. Miles’s heart leaps, breath stuck in his throat. He leans down again and knocks their foreheads together. There’s a wild thrumming in his chest that he can’t settle even if he tried.

He smooths his hands over Calvin’s sides, his hands shaking. “Do you want to… um, how do you want to do this?”

He’d take it either way, honestly.

“Want you in me,” Calvin says.

“God, baby, that’s so hot—”

“Don’t call me that,” Calvin says, too coolly, despite what they’re talking about doing. The rejection would hurt if Calvin’s blush wasn’t spreading to his ears. He swallows, his throat bobbing, and he murmurs, “Come on. Get in me.”

Feeling too much all at once, Miles can only nod.

Calvin nudges him to get up, and Miles kisses him once, before walking to his bag. He rummages around the pockets while Calvin sits up, kicks his shoes off, and moves backward against the bed until he’s sitting up on the headboard.

“Aha!” Miles says, holding up the lube and a condom, grinning wide, as if that was a huge victory. He heads right back, not caring at all that he looks much too eager. He pulls Calvin’s shirt off—well, his shirt, technically—and trails fingers over the inked vines and flowers on his shoulder.

They both get rid of the rest of their clothes, and oh wow, this is actually happening. Miles fumbles with the lube, gets it all over his hands. It’s Calvin’s fault—he’s distracting, sitting there naked with his cock heavy against his stomach.

“Slow down,” Calvin says.

“I can’t,” he murmurs, pushing Calvin down against the mattress. He grins, presses his mouth against his throat, and whatever other teasing Calvin planned to make devolves into a quiet gasp when Miles puts a lubed finger against his hole. He circles his rim leisurely.

Calvin rocks down on his hand. “Stop teasing me.”

“Thought you wanted me to slow down.”

“Miles,” he growls.

Despite how the roles have been reversed, and Calvin’s now urging him to be quicker, Miles takes his time. He works him slowly and carefully. Still, when he puts a second finger in, Calvin tenses up, wincing, and Miles pauses.

“Keep going,” Calvin grumbles, rocking down on his hand again, and damn, that’s hot. Miles’s face heats. He refuses to make this uncomfortable for him though, so Miles puts a hand in his hair, leans down and kisses him slowly.

“Relax,” he murmurs against Calvin’s lips. Calvin’s mouth goes slack, and he gives him a jerky nod.

He puts his mouth all over Calvin’s jaw, his neck, and his chest as he gently works him open. Even when Calvin’s thighs tremble, and he tugs at Miles’s hair, Miles doesn’t stop. Calvin tastes so good and Miles doesn’t want this to end.

Calvin writhes under him. He makes a sound that suspiciously sounds like a whine, and his thighs snap up and he curses when Miles finds that particular spot in him. There —he presses against it again, and Calvin gasps, fingers clutching deep around Miles’s nape.

When Miles prods harder against that spot, Calvin throws his head back and groans, his legs pressing tight around Miles’s waist.

Miles sits back on his knees because he needs to see this. He needs to see Calvin come absolutely undone with just his fingers. It’s a sight he won’t forget—Calvin with his eyes shut tight, gripping the pillow, and his mouth hanging open. He reaches down and puts a hand around Calvin’s dick, and it pulses under his hold, and he strokes it as he continues pressing at his sweet spot.

“Miles,” Calvin says, breathless. “Stop. In me. Come on.”

The way Calvin’s gaze shoots down between them, to Miles’s achingly hard dick, gives him a boost of confidence. Fumbling, Miles pulls a condom on. Calvin watches him, chest still heaving, and spreads his legs—and Miles swallows a knot in his throat.

He lines himself up and meets Calvin’s eyes, running a hand down his chest. “You good?”

“Yes,” Calvin grunts impatiently.

Miles pushes into him, expression tightening, and Calvin presses a hand over his face and muffles a whimper. He thrusts into him slowly, testing the waters, and Calvin’s chin tips back. Calvin’s still covering his face, and that’s no good—Miles pulls it away and leans down to knock their foreheads together.

It’s… incredible. It’s too much, and Miles can’t complain. Calvin is so good and warm and tight, and it takes his breath away. Miles kisses him, hard and fast, and Calvin holds his head tightly.

“Like that,” Calvin murmurs. “Yeah. You feel so good.”

Fuck. Calvin can’t do this, can’t praise him like this—it sends a thrill down Miles, it rattles him, and his thrusts become more erratic and deep.

Calvin winces under him, and he almost stops, but Calvin grips his hair and tells him to go faster. Miles puts a hand between them, gripping Calvin’s dick and stroking him.

He groans Calvin’s name when he comes, and he’s shaking all over. He kisses Calvin with trembling lips and says his name, again and again, and doesn’t relent on his hold around Calvin—and Calvin follows him not long after, and it seems to be too much for him because he pulls Miles’s hand away and whines.

Miles presses his face against his neck as he pulls out slowly, and Calvin winces .

They made such a mess, and Calvin turns to his side and pants as Miles rolls to his back beside him. They’re quiet for a long while, only their heavy breathing filling the room.

“God,” Miles exhales, fumbling to take the condom off, rolling off the bed to dump it in the bathroom’s trash can.

They’re all sticky and wet and exhausted, and Miles grabs his shirt and cleans them both off. Calvin looks embarrassed, but he lets Miles take care of him, and Miles finds himself unreasonably happy for that.

Miles falls back against the bed. He closes his eyes. “You… you think we’ll stay in touch after tomorrow?”

Calvin sounds breathless, too. “I’m heading to the city, not to another planet.”

“Well, yeah, but it’ll be different. You can call, if you’d like. Take it up a notch and FaceTime me without your shirt on.”

He chuckles, then Calvin’s quiet for way too long. Miles almost thinks he’s passed out, but when he turns his head, Calvin’s staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Sleepy, then.

Calvin says, quietly, “I’ll call you all the time until you’re sick of me. We don’t do much when we’re not at a gig, since Chase and Gil refuse to have anything to do with Theo.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hearing Theo’s name makes his gut twist, like it always does.

“What? You don’t want to stay in touch?” Calvin peers at him. “I don’t want anything to do with him either, if that’s what you’re pouting about.”

“I’m not pouting,” he says, definitely pouting .

There’s a strangeness in his expression that Miles can’t read. He looks at Miles as if he’s searching for something. “What will you be up to? Are you staying in Ridgeford?”

“Not sure… will probably stay here for a week more or so, then I’ll head back to my apartment in the city. Now that things at the inn are looking up—thanks again, by the way—I need to make new pieces for the gallery before they kick me out. I’ll probably go back and forth a lot, though. I want to make sure the inn keeps it up. I’m sure Gabby’s got it handled but just for my peace of mind, really.”

“Go back a bit. You’ll be in the city, too?”

He nods. “Uh huh.”

“Then we can definitely hang out,” Calvin says with a shrug.

Still, it’ll be different after tomorrow.

The city isn’t as quiet as this town; it isn’t as cozy and slow-paced. Calvin will be ambushed at every crowded corner that they step out on, and they won’t have the garden to retreat to.

He glances at Calvin, who’s watching him back. He looks about one yawn away from passing out. Smiling, Miles touches his arm. “You’re too far. Come here.”

Calvin doesn’t protest when he pulls him close, and his eyes threaten to shut when Miles presses a kiss against his temple.

“So, you don’t like pet names?” Miles asks, absently playing with the strands of his hair.

“No.” Calvin scowls and grumbles something incoherent, then pushes his face against his shoulder. Miles realizes, with fascination, that his ears and neck are red.

And… oh. Miles gets it. “Rather… you like them too much?”

Silence. Then Calvin grunts and punches him lightly on his side.

Fuck, he’s cute .

Calvin’s going to be the end of him.

“You did good today,” Calvin murmurs.

Startled, Miles is about to respond, but Calvin’s breathing slowly evens out, and he falls asleep with his face pressed against Miles’s shoulder. Something warm flutters in Miles’s stomach, and he presses a light kiss against Calvin’s ear.