Story: Life and Hope - August and Anderson

This bit of art is a prize for Perpetua, from the last Gay Day.

Life and Hope

by Nix Winter

All Rights Reserved

August's apartment had been big enough for one because before Corey came back to him he didn't eat there, didn't work there, and didn't sleep there if he could possibly get into Corey's room instead. He'd actually slept there quite a bit. Mostly it was like a storage room for art, books, and clothes. 

When Corey did come home, it took them about an afternoon to realize that even though Corey didn't own much, there wasn't room for two people in the apartment. The obvious interim answer was to move back into the rooms on the estate, the same suite of rooms they'd shared when they'd been in college. There was room for Mother Meg and the servants seemed to like her more than Corey could have hoped.

August sat on the huge desk that Aunt Cordillia had once given Corey. Only a slight yellowing across his face betrayed that he wasn't 100% after the Disaster. Wearing kakis, blue converse, and white button up shirt that had seen too many painting sessions, he let his feet swing back and forth against the desk. The Disaster and being in the hospital for nearly two months afterwards had cost him almost twenty pounds, which he'd never been really in need of losing. On the other hand, he'd never been happier. "You might want to go through that box after we get home," he said as Corey lifted up a box that had been buried. On the outside it looked like it might be a box of legal paperwork, the detritus too many cases and an unwillingness to lose, but it was much more personal. 

Corey, wearing jeans and a tore up tee-shirt that had been his years before, his hair untrimmed since he'd left the church, looked a bit like a hippy Jesus to August. Sunlight had always seemed like a golden caress in Corey's hair, mixing fire and shimmering gold, so that August thought of the god Apollo, even though Apollo had been Greek and probably had never looked much like stubborn Irish priest. "Why? This whole stack was art, wasn't it? I am sure I never imagined there could be so many pictures of me in all the world."

"Mug shots," August teased, fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the desk. "I'm not sure that box, you know, I mean, Roman might be back any time."

"Oh," Corey said, green eyes widening in understanding. He grinned, well half of his face grinned, freckles dark with is back to the single window and the aura causing sunlight.  He sank down to the floor, cross legged, box leaning against his legs as he pushed the lid up. In a slightly British accent he asked, "What have we got in the box, Auggie my boy?"

"Any hardship," August said, clearing his throat after the word 'hardship', "is all on you."

"That is usually pretty contagious," Corey's lips parted, red eyebrows drawing up as his fingers walked him through the hundreds of drawings and watercolors in the box. "How did you have time to try cases?"

"I'm very industrious. I love you, you know that, right?"

Corey pulled a watercolor up out of the box, head tiling as if that would help him see it clearly somehow. "Why do I have cat ears and a collar in this one?"

"There was," August said, rubbing his finger over his upper lip even though that caused him to mumble a little, "that was a weekend I went an anime convention."

Corey titled his head the other way, eyes narrowing. "This is me, right?"

August's face went long, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling. "Of course it's you. There's one of you as a wolf too."

"So you like me in a collar?"

"Sometimes."

"Any of these have semen on them?"

"Maybe." August said, face much brighter than long. "Really, look, can't we look through those when we get home? I'm still frail, weak." He pressed his hand to his chest. "My heart..."

Now Corey's face went long, but his eyes narrowed. "Really? Maybe your heart just needs me to fuck you good?"

Smiling, August nodded. "Maybe."

Corey dropped the watercolor back into the box, but then he spied the next one. "In my blacks?" He pulled that one up to look at it. August leaned back into a spread of pale brown, the same brown his own hair had been painted in. Neither of them were painted completely. It wasn't a photo, but most of Auggie's paintings weren't. His cock was thick, a little thicker than real life, but in the painting Corey had his mouth wrapped all the way around it. The priest collar undone, sunlight from no where weaving gold into red hair, the Corey in the painting looked very happy to the Corey looking at the painting. "I still have them, you know."

"You are my rose, you know," August countered. 

Corey closed up the box, crawled the small distance between art pile and desk. Still on his knees, between August's knees he reached. August reached to him, leaning and their lips met, brushing over each other, tasting, licking, all brand new, as if they needed to make sure that the other one was still there - would never go away again, ever. 

"Oh Damn," Roman complained, giving the front door a really solid kick shut to announce his presence, "Do you too jack rabbits ever give it a rest? I brought pizza. You two both look like super models."

The kiss lingered on another moment, August caressing Corey's hair. Both smiled when they pulled apart, just enough to keep Roman from having a heart attack. "Maybe you could use a live model?"

"That could be really good," August said, rubbing the top of his foot against Corey's crotch, where his brother couldn't see. 

"Seriously, boys," Roman complained, "Give it a rest. I have mid-terms to study for and we've got to get you moved."

"Okay, okay," August said, as he gave Corey a wink. "We're good. We're always good."


Note: If you'd like to read more of August and Corey, Redeem Me has their stories from before they met until after The Disaster.