Free Read: Picture This (Will Crawford #2), Chapter 8

This is the last chapter in this story. I’ll start the final story soon.

Copyright 2013 Theo Fenraven

This may contain material meant only for adults.


Chapter 8

We packed up and returned to the barn for our clothes and then walked to the cars. I had plans for dinner and, as it happened, so did he. We agreed to get together in a week to go over the proofs and went our separate ways.

I wasn’t stupid enough to expect anything more. Chances were excellent that day was all there would be between us, so I made every effort to put him out of my mind.

This turned out to be an impossibility, as I’d gotten tons of good photos of him, and I spent hours going over them, first winnowing them down to the top one hundred, then the top fifty, and finally, the top thirty. I did this at home, where I wouldn’t be disturbed and no one could unexpectedly pop in on me and see what I was doing. There were shots from each of our locations, and there were things I liked about each one. Will would have to decide which ones he liked best, and I would print them for him privately. Looking at him in photos for hours at a time kept me semi-hard for days. I kept remembering what he’d smelled like, how he’d tasted, and what it felt like to touch him and have him touch me.

We met Wednesday afternoon at my house (it was safer that way, given his high profile). He looked a little frazzled, as if too many things were happening all at once in his life, but he smiled when I opened the door to him. He was wearing blue jeans, a yellow T-shirt that read Full Frontal Nerdity, and a pair of new sneakers.

I invited him in and led him back to my office, a large bright room lined with file cabinets and counter space. My desk sat in the middle of the room; the computer on it was top of the line, a necessary thing in my work, and both monitors were 26” widescreen. Anything bigger, and I couldn’t get close enough to my work.

“Have a seat,” I said, gesturing toward a chair. He sat, and I grabbed the chair next to him. I smelled patchouli as he bent his head toward mine and lightly kissed me on the cheek.

“You look well,” he said.

“You look tired,” I countered, opening a folder on the computer’s desktop.

“Too many late nights of filming,” he explained. “What have you got?”

I opened the folder and started clicking through the final choices I’d made, going through them slowly so he could study each one. After the first round, I said, “We’ll go through them again. Choose the ones you want printed. Write the numbers down on that pad.”

“These aren’t all of them,” he said, frowning.

“Not by any means. These are only the ones I felt were the best of the lot because of pose or lighting or whatever. I’ll give you a DVD with everything on it, divided into locations so you can go directly to the pictures you want to see. I deleted only the very worst of them.”

He nodded. “That sounds good, and I didn’t mean to malign your choices. These are very good.” He picked up a pen. “I’m ready.”

We took our time during this round, discussing the merits of each photo. We were amazingly detached from the subject, as if we were looking at someone else. After nearly two hours, he got his choices down to twelve. There were four from the barn, two from the lake, two from the meadow, and four taken at the waterfall.

“I’ll print these for you personally and FedEx them over to you. The DVD will be inside. Sixteen by twenty work for you?” I sat back, the chair creaking.

“That’s a good size, but I want one of them done larger.” Using my mouse, he flipped through the folder until he found the one he wanted. It was him naked in the barn, dust motes floating in the air around him. “You made me beautiful. This is art, Rick.” The lighting was lovely, soft and dreamy, and he looked almost angelic, lounging on the hay bale, legs spread, leaning against a rough wooden wall, the background fading to black. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, one hand on his chest and the other resting lightly on a magnificent hard-on. The expression on his face was so erotic, so… wanting… just looking at that shot got me excited.

He’d chosen my favorite picture of the entire shoot.

I swallowed. “How big do you want it?”

“As large as you can print without losing detail.”

I didn’t look at him, afraid he would see the desire in my eyes. “Framed?”

“Rick,” he whispered.

I turned then and met his eyes. Taking my hand in his, he placed it in his lap, pressing it into his erection.

“Want?” he asked softly and smiled.

I didn’t bother to answer. Wordlessly, I led him into my bedroom and started taking off his clothes, kissing and touching him as I did so. I was on fire for him, and could not get naked fast enough.

We fell on the bed together, and I immediately reached into the nightstand drawer for lube and a condom, handing them to him. “Fuck me.”

Nodding, he ripped the condom open with his teeth and rolled it on before flipping the top of the lube and squirting plenty on himself. Stroking it over the latex, he reached between my legs with greased fingers to massage my hole.

I wriggled against him. “I’m ready… come on.”

“Such impatience,” he said, helping me raise my legs to his shoulders. I felt him at my entrance and pushed out as he moved forward. He slid in halfway, withdrew, thrust again; almost there. One more time, and he went in to the balls, causing me to gasp with pleasure.

I arched up to meet him even as he used his hands to make me still. “Slowly,” he breathed. “I want to enjoy every minute of this.”

He took his time, kissing me, tasting me, his lips and tongue arousing me past all reason while he rocked inside me gently. I reached down to grab my cock, stroking hard. “Will… Jesus….”

“Patience,” he said into my mouth.

He made me delirious with longing, needing, and when he finally started to move inside me, I immediately came, so hard and long, I thought my heart would stop.

Unbelievably, he hung on through that, forcing me to stillness once more while he began arousing me all over again. This time, I was more aware of him, of the silkiness of his taut skin under my fingers, the softness of his lips, the delicious way his tongue stroked the inside of my mouth, and of how his cock throbbed inside me, moving only enough to make me aware of him there.

I suspected this was the last time I’d be with him, because really, being honest, there was no reason to continue. He had his world, I had mine, and the intersection was almost over. He’d hired me to do a job, I’d done it, and now it was time for us to move on. The momentary desperation that caused in me made me get hard a second time, faster than I would have under normal circumstances.

We lingered on that fine edge for far longer than I thought possible, but finally, it was too much, even for him, and as he began thrusting hard and deep, my desire peaked with his and we came together.

You read it all the time in books: “They came at the same time.” But it isn’t as easy as it sounds and doesn’t happen all that often; the timing has to be perfect and there must be total control.

Will had that control, he’d timed it just right, and it was awesome. It was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had. I felt it everywhere, and it took a long time for me to recover. He seemed to be just as affected, and we lay together without speaking.

When he made movements indicating he wanted to get up, I tightened my arms around him. “Stay.” He did, and I lay under the weight of him, memorizing how he felt—in my mind, in my hands, in my body.

The neighbor’s dog barked and a truck drove by. The fridge turned on and off twice. A child laughed outside as she walked along the sidewalk. Our hearts beat slowly together, and his warm breath was on my neck.

And then it was over, and he was gone.

∞ ∞ ∞

A week later, FedEx dropped off an envelope for me at work. Sue brought it into my office and tossed it on my desk, along with some calls I needed to return. After she left, I absent-mindedly opened the envelope and slipped out its contents.

It was a cheap print of a digital picture from a point-and-shoot camera. It showed part of someone’s bedroom, a section of dresser and the wall above it, and on that wall was a framed print of Will, naked in the barn, dust motes floating around him, eyes closed, his lips parted in pleasure, one hand on his heart and the other on a magnificent hard-on.

The enclosed note read, This is art, and I love it. Thanks.

Smiling, I slid the the contents back into the envelope and returned to work.



About Fenraven

Fenraven happily lives in south Florida, where it is really hot most of the year. Find him on Twitter, Google +, and Facebook by searching on 'fenraven'.
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16 Responses to Free Read: Picture This (Will Crawford #2), Chapter 8

  1. As always, a truly wonderful story, beautifully told. Can’t wait for the next story.

  2. Judy says:

    *sniff* As far as inevitable endings go this was bitter-sweet, though I wouldn’t mind Rick re-appearing sometime. Thanks Theo.

  3. This is writing at its best, and I LOVE it!! Many thanks Fen…I’m warming to Will (never thought I’d say that!!) ♥♥

  4. Helena Stone says:

    That was thoroughly enjoyable. Thank you so much for sharing.

  5. suze294 says:

    Another rollercoaster! : Great story 🙂 bittersweet ending 😦 another Will story coming 🙂
    Will life work out for Will – can’t wait to find out

  6. Karen H. says:

    What a beautiful love scene and such a bittersweet good-bye for these two men. It would make me happy if it wasn’t but I get the feeling it was. You’ve definitely got me on board for the next part, hope it’s soon. Have an awesome weekend.

  7. kmac64 says:

    Wow, what a great story, definitely hate to see it end. Even though it is over for me, Rick will be able to live it over and over again thru his pictures. 🙂 Thank you for sharing.

  8. Ka says:

    One thing I don’t like……. The End, Noooooooooooooooooooo
    Yet again, your amazing xxx

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