This story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities, i.e. Zachary Quinto, mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives. This story contains sexual situations between two males. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.
This is an American style version of the Japanese anime Junjou Romantica. Much is the same and much has been changed.
Copyright and Trademark Kadokawa Video(tm), Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.(tm), Funimation(tm)
The Page & The Canvas By Willow Lemon (Based on Junjou Romantica)
CHAPTER ONE
"So, what is this gigantic favor you need to ask me?" I shifted more comfortably against the cushions of the sofa. Taking a sip of my bourbon with a lime twist and a splash of ginger beer, I then rested the glass on my trouser clad knee, the ice making a satisfying clink.
Watching Tavis fidget with his watch, and then his glasses, I was patient with my best friend. I would give anything in my power to Tavis, yet he never asked for so much as a stick of gum. I was immensely pleased that there was something I could help him with. I was anxious to find out what it was. A kidney, a million dollars, whatever he needed. He had been my best friend since freshman year in college nine years ago, and both of us had been there for one another during more than one rather significant times in our lives.
"I...I have received a job offer at an architectural firm in Seattle."
"Tavis, that's excellent! Congratulations man! You are happy about it, aren't you? Because you look rather out of sorts."
"No, no. I am happy about it. The only thing that would make it better is if it were here in San Francisco. It's just, you see... it's Kip."
"Your brother?"
"Yes. He's going to the Academy of Art University, and I'm afraid I'm leaving him in a bit of a lurch. The firm wants me right away. I could keep paying the rent, but I don't like leaving him alone. So, my gigantic favor is... well, do you think... possibly, that Kip could stay with you? I promise he won't be a bother."
I couldn't help but chuckle. He made it seem so dire, but this was barely a bleep on the disaster scale. "Tavis, you don't even have to ask. You could have dropped Kip off on my door step, rang the bell and drove off and I would have gladly taken him in."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"No problem. How old is he now? I've only meet him once at graduation. That was six years ago."
"Has it been that long? I guess that's right since he didn't come to the funeral; one hell of time to have the flu. He's nineteen now. Going to school on a partial scholarship. He's an immensely talented artist. I won't let him work, but I'll be happy to pitch in whatever you think is fair. He's never been in trouble. He's a good kid. He's tidy and he knows how to cook," Tavis continued to try to sell me.
"Perfect. Sounds like it will be my pleasure. Seriously Tavis, it's no problem at all. It will also be a guarantee that I see you when you come back to town. I hope your brother is prepared to replace you on the tennis courts."
"You're my family as much as Kip, Alistor. I'll always come back to visit you. And you better come see me, because I'll miss you too."
I did my best not to get misty at the thought of my best friend moving away. A flight to Seattle wasn't long. "To your fantastic new job and my tidy new roommate." I lifted my glass to Tavis and he touched it with his.
"And to Alistor; the best friend a man could have."
I had a meeting with my editor, so I wasn't there when Kip moved in. I left him a key with the doorman and a note on the door telling him which room was his, and to make himself at home.
My mind full of notes from my editor, I forgot all about my new roommate. I opened the apartment door to the smell of grilled steak and sizzling noises. Standing there, dumbstruck at the sight of a slender man-boy with lanky teal hair that hung in his evergreen eyes, his bare feet gracefully stepping around the kitchen, as hands with long fingers chopped and stirred and sautéed; I thought perhaps that I had a helpful burglar.
This couldn't be Kip. First of all, he was expecting a boy, and he was no boy. Secondly, there was no familial resemblance to Tavis, except for the eyes, they were the same shade of green. Kip was toned and lean. His features were sharp, yet delicate. And of course, there was the obvious, Tavis was buttoned-up and professional, and Kip was edgy and tattooed.
Kip heard the door close behind me and looked up from taking the prime rib out of the oven to rest. Turning off all the burners, he came out of the kitchen. "I hope you meant what you said about making myself at home." He held out his hand confidently. I had no doubt that was Tavis' doing. I could see the shy uncertainty in Kip's eyes, but his grip was firm and warm from being in the oven.
"Absolutely, as long as you have a steak for me. Nice to see you again, Kip. I hope everything is to your liking."
"Oh, yes, yes. Of course. I made dinner for you, to say thank you. I'm sorry that I didn't check to see if you had plans. If you do, I can put it up for you. A-and you don't have to eat with me either. I'm sure you are used to having the apartment to yourself," Kip rambled nervously. "And your place is great. My room is huge, and this kitchen is spectacular. Thank you for letting me stay here."
I laughed good naturedly at his loquaciousness. "You are welcome, especially if you keep being my dinner companion." He smiled nervously back at me.
I hung up my suit jacket and discarded my tie before washing up and returning to the dinner table where he had everything served and ready. The meal was excellent. He was still too shy to ask me any questions, but I learned much more about him. He was a painter, and he was a double major in fine art and art history. I ended up offering him the formal dining room, that was never used, as a studio so that he wouldn't be limited to school hours at the campus facilities. And when I found out that he intended on taking the bus to school, I offered him a ride any time he wanted one since my schedule was open working from home.
He wouldn't hear of me helping to clear the dinner away. "You're much too generous Mr. Smoak. I'll feel like I'm taking advantage if I don't at least do the dishes."
I allowed it, but stayed in the kitchen with him. Lighting a cigarette and sitting on a stool at the bar I told him, "Please, call me Alistor, or Ali. We wouldn't be real roommates if you called me Mr. Smoak."
"I've never heard my brother refer to you as Ali."
"That's because he's never called me that. He said Ali should be reserved for my lovers, but I always insisted that was nonsense." I noticed that he blushed down to his roots at the word lover. I took that to mean that he was inexperienced.
I found Kip positively intriguing.
"I'd like to see your artwork, unless you think that's personal."
Scarlet sprouted on the apples of Kip's cheeks. "I do consider my painting personal, but I'll show them to you."
Up in his room he had several large zippered portfolios. "Here, you can look at this one." He laid one out on the bed after skimming through it to make certain he wanted to share everything in it. It made me wonder what I wasn't being allowed to look at.
Kip's work was classical and beautiful. Mostly oils, but some charcoals and pastels. He liked to paint lush landscapes that were colorful, several with bodies of water. There was several still life's with an array of objects; I found the ones of junk food quite amusing. When I came to the last picture in the case I couldn't help but pick it up. It was of a woman that made the resemblance of Tavis and Kip obvious. "Your mother?"
"Yes. It's based on a photo of when she was pregnant with me." Kip's eyes became beclouded with grief. I could nearly see the memories hoovering, mantling him.
"Since you were unable to attend the funeral, I never was able to express my sorrow for your loss. You don't need me to tell you that your parents were exceptional people, but I will anyway."
He came over and took the portrait, gazing down at it, lost in remembrances for a moment. Placing it back in the portfolio and closing it back up, he said, mostly to himself. "I miss them every day. All the time. I'm glad that I could come stay here with you. Tavis should have his own life. He shouldn't have to take care of me."
My heart broke for him. "I know, probably better than anyone, that Tavis in no way considers you a burden. More than once he has told me how glad he is that he's in a position to help you. That he had graduated and had a job. You are his family and he loves you, Kip. Love is not a burden."
I was horrified to see Kip's true-green eyes well with tears. I automatically went to him and pulled him close. "I'm going to miss him," he whispered.
"Me too," I agreed.
He allowed his head to fall on my shoulder and took in several deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. I could feel his calm spread through him. And then I felt something else. I felt the definite growth of his erection against me.
Interesting.
The moment he realized it, Kip started to pull away. I didn't let him. "Get off me! Guys don't hug each other like this."
"Yes, they do." His struggle wasn't completely real, therefore easily handled.
"No guys I know." He was striving to fire up his ire. "I don't like you like that if this is what this is about."
I was already tired of this disparaging denial. I easily maneuvered him to press him up against the wall, pinning his wrists at shoulder height. "You do, and that is not what this is about. You were upset and I was consoling you. If you want to be upset because it turned you on, that's your problem, but don't turn this around on me."
"What?! I was not turned on! How dare you!" He was doing a good job of acting incredulous.
"Really, is that so? So, then you don't want me to do this?" I covered his mouth with my own. He stopped struggling and went very still. I didn't use my tongue at first, just massaged his lips with mine. After a few moments, and he remained frozen and his body stayed hard, I lightly brushed my tongue out, searching for admittance and found it. Delving my tongue into his soft mouth, Kip finally moved, his tongue tangling with mine in languid undulations.
Not being able to resist, I released one of his wrists to reach down and stroke his erection over his pants. He sighed a whimper and I caught it in my mouth. He responded with small movements of his hips, pressing it harder against my hand.
When his free hand found its way to my chest to grip the front of my shirt, I stopped. I knew I had to stop right now or I wouldn't be able to. Pulling away, he remained plastered against the wall, his crystal loden eyes the size of saucers. "Good evening Kip. Again, please make yourself at home." And then I went to my own room to stroke myself while I still tasted of him.
What just happened? I shakily made my way over to the bed and sat on the edge. I did not like guys, I repeated like a mantra over and over again in my head. It was impossible.
First of all, this was the first time ever I had gotten an erection while touching another guy. It had to be a fluke. It had been an emotional day and sometimes a penis can have a mind of its own when brushed a certain way. That's all it was. It didn't have anything to do with Alistor.
Yes, I did admire Alistor. He was my brother's best friend. I had heard nothing but glowing compliments about him from Tavis for years. He was an award-winning New York Times bestselling author. And if someone put a gun to my head, I would admit that when he walked through the apartment door and I saw him for the first time since I was a kid, my very first thought was, surprisingly, that is one good looking guy. But that was a general thought, like noticing someone had grey eyes.
Grey eyes like Alistor's. So grey that they were almost lavender. Light brown hair that reflected gold in the light. A clean shaven, smooth skin, sharp jawline that accented high cheekbones. Tall. Taller than myself by at least five inches. Trim, thin, but not too thin, and muscular. An Adonis.
"Oh my god," I muttered out loud, frustrated with myself. I did not like guys.
Despite that fact, I had a problem currently in the form of a rock-hard erection. And it had reached the point of no return; I would have to do something about it or I was going to be in a lot of pain.
Laying back on the bed, I unzipped my jeans, taking out my now throbbing hardon. I started to think about what I regularly thought about whenever I touched myself, which the last few times had been Jessica from art history class, she had some serious boobs. I had only pumped up and down three or four times when Jessica turned into Alistor and I was reliving what had just happened between us. I could taste Alistor's tongue in my mouth, smell his skin and the lemony scent, his large hand rubbing me, teasing me until I thought I would burst. But this time in my imagination, he didn't walk away before he was finished. I came so hard my breath caught in my throat.
Breathing hard, almost panting, I thought, I do not like guys!
The next morning, I decided that I would stay out of the apartment all day. I didn't know how to act if I ran into Alistor. I opened my bedroom door and peaked out; everything was quiet. I practically tip-toed downstairs. It wasn't until I was passing through the living room directly behind the sofa that I saw that he was asleep on the couch. He must have been working because his laptop was on the coffee table, still open, a light on the keyboard flashing indicating that it had shut off on its own. He was sleeping on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the other laying across his semi-bare chest. He had unbuttoned his white dress shirt down a few buttons from the neck down, making his tan, muscled chest visible.
I stopped and found myself staring down at him, watching him sleep, trying and failing not to notice his flat stomach, hard thighs and stunning face.
What was wrong with me?! I screwed up my face so hard that I had to run my hand down my face to straighten it out. When I opened my eyes, I found Alistor looking at me.
"Good morning. Going somewhere?" I noted the backpack on Kip's shoulder.
"I-I was going into school," he nervously stammered.
"On a Sunday?" I was incredulous.
"I need to start a piece for class."
"I told you to use the dining room to work in."
"I can't imposition you like that."
"It isn't. I haven't used that room once since I moved in three years ago. Besides, I've already contacted my assistant, Mira, about getting it ready. Movers are coming tomorrow morning to put the furniture in storage. And then she's bringing over basics like easels, shelves, and canvas racks. If you will make me a list of anything specific you need and I'll get it to Mira. So see, it's already been set in motion. Also, I don't think that's the reason you're leaving."
"I, umm..." he mumbled guiltily.
I sat up, divested him of his backpack, pulled him over the back of the couch and pinned him underneath me in seconds. "Don't make what happened last night weird." I dipped my head and kissed him thoroughly and slowly. He only struggled a bit. Lifting my head, I looked down into his bottle-green eyes, searching them for acceptance of himself.
"But, I don't like guys."
"Is that so?" I reached down under his t-shirt, skimming the pads of my fingers up his ribcage, ending at a turgid nipple that sent a visible shiver over his body. "Maybe you're not, but then there's me."
I could see argument getting ready to come out, and I covered his mouth, keeping his tongue busy. Brushing my hand back down his abs, I stopped to play with his belt buckle. "Tell me to stop," I let my breath fall on his earlobe.
He was squirming underneath me, his body seeking more of my touch. I gave him plenty of time, but no words came. Partially tickling, I lightly feathered my touch at his waistband, dipping under the cloth, just barely. This got him thrusting against my hand.
Very nearly following through with unbuckling and unzipping him and using more than my hand to make him come, I stopped torturing him, and myself. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to listen to his body and heart. I had to wait for his mind to catch up. Withdrawing my hand, I sat up giving Kip some space. "Go, but only if you need to. I don't think you should. You must have some art supplies here, or we can go buy whatever you need. You shouldn't leave, though."
I didn't have to look at him to know he was conflicted. I could almost see his forehead crinkled without looking. After several moments he asked, "Would you like some breakfast?"