6.

He distracted himself the following day by trying to figure out what one was supposed to wear to a dinner in one’s honor. It wasn’t as though he’d ever had anything to dress up for before. His father still had a couple of suits, mothballed in the closet, but that would feel far too uneasy.

In the end he settled for his smartest jeans and a white shirt, topped with the usual jacket. He entertained himself with imagining Phillip had butlers and maids who would take his coat, whisk him through cavernous rooms lit with roaring fires, to the music of chinking crystal, idle chit-chat and soft violins.

Not a whinny or a snort in earshot…

Phillip had told him the dinner would begin at seven, but Felix was ready at four, and searching for anything to kill the time. He didn’t want to think. He certainly didn’t want to paint, but he found himself in the studio anyway.

He was making the wrong decision, he knew that. Picking up a small canvas, he carefully rolled up his sleeves, and picked out a slender brush and black paint. The only reason he had been able to uphold his commitment to Phillip was because of the horse, the creature he still scarcely believed was real.

But it had been real. He remembered the power beneath him as they danced and raced through the forest, felt those challenging eyes on him, pushing him, testing him.

The brush swept over the canvas, thoughtless, careless, curves and sweeps of black paint. Felix paid little attention to it until he noticed the light fading, and stepped back to survey his work.

The image imprinted on the canvas was achingly familiar, full of movement and passion, ready to burst off the frame.

Felix stared down at his hands, at the brush in his fingers, the black smears of paint on his skin.

He hadn’t painted that image. The horse on the canvas was exactly the same as the horses in the paintings he’d given Phillip.

Paintings he’d never touched, never created…

The images, the awareness, swept over him in a rush so dizzying he thought the floor had melted away beneath him. The paint on his hands, the dirt on the floor, the dreams, the ride.

No…I never painted those pictures…

But if not him, then who? Only the horse knew. Only the creature who, if he paid his debt, might tell him the truth.

He’d known all along what he should do. Phillip was the fantasy, the creature was the reality. It was the horse who had given him back his gift. It was the horse to whom he owed everything, his gratitude and his remorse.

He forgot about his coat. He left the studio door wide open, a shaft of light cutting across the undisturbed yard. Felix didn’t stop at the gate, didn’t stop at the edge of the woods, just kept running, stumbling through the mud, heedless of the mess he was making. It wasn’t as if he was going to that dinner anyway, it wouldn’t matter.

“Where are you?” His shouts echoed off the trees as he ran, desperate and pleading. “Please!”

“So you finally realized.”

He stopped, whirling around. The voice, the eyes, the wave of contentment, they jarred with the lies his eyes told him.

It wasn’t the horse, standing in the shadows of the trees, watching him with fiery eyes.

“I knew you would.” Phillip smiled at him, head canted. “I had faith in you, even when you didn’t have faith in yourself.”

“I…I don’t understand…”

Fire danced in those golden eyes, as the breeze ruffled soft black hair, and Felix's question turned to; “Why?”

Phillip smiled, shrugged. “Because you asked for my help. You asked me what I was, and the one thing I should have told you was `cursed`. If you hadn’t accepted my offer, I would spend eternity that way, seeking someone who could break the spell. Only the one who rode with an open heart could free me.”

“But I didn’t ride…” Felix shook his head.

“You came here, did you not? You abandoned your own gain to seek me out and settle your debt. I’ve spent years searching, Felix…I’m glad you’re the one to finally set me free.”

Felix blushed despite himself. “Are you mad? About the paintings, I mean? That I told you they were mine…”
“They are yours,” Phillip said. Stepping closer, he reached out, taking Felix’s hands in his, thumbs rubbing the black paint stains on Felix’s fingers. “You created them. All I did was remove your doubts, enabled you to do so.”

“And…the dreams?”

That velvety laugh danced through the silence, slid through the trees. “Inspiration takes many forms. And you had doubts about me, too. I admit I had no qualms helping you overcome those.” The laughed softened. “Are you mad there is no exhibit?”

Felix’s entire focus was on Phillip’s fingers overlapping his own, it took a moment for the words to seep past the thunder of his heartbeat in his head. “No.” He paused, looking up at those flickering eyes. “All I wanted was the belief you have in me…”

“That is always yours, dear Felix.” Phillip chuckled. “As am I.” The combination of the wicked smile and the challenge in his eyes made Felix’s head swim. “That is, if you dare take a chance and ride.”

He knew these kisses, he’d felt them before. But as he leaned into Phillip’s arms, hands twining in black hair, kissing back, it occurred to him that they were sweeter, richer, when he knew they were real.

“Like I said…” His voice was a little husky as he drew back, nose still nuzzling Phillip’s, unwilling to stop touching completely. “I promised and I meant it.”

Phillip chuckled, kisses brushing against Felix’s cheek, breath warm against his ear. “I think you’ll find the ride far more enjoyable this time.”

Felix bit back the whimper. “Yeah…I’m sure.”

"Will you come with me now?"

"Yes." Felix nodded, not sure why Phillip was even asking.

Phillip just smiled, taking his hand and continuing on down the path into the forest.

It felt so different now, Felix thought, looking around at a woodland that was achingly familiar and magically new. It felt like home.

He wasn't surprised when the forest eventually opened out into the grassy clearing from his dream. Moonlight drenched the open space, made the trickling river glitter like a fall of diamonds. Phillip stopped in the center of the clearing, turning to face Felix. His hair shimmered in the silvery light, and the warmth in his eyes chased any chill from the air.

The kiss was gentle and measured, as though they were touching for the very first time. Felix supposed they were, in a way; the first time with the truth known. Nothing tempered his hands as they slid over Phillip's chest, down his arms, their hands linking briefly.

Phillip smiled, fingers running along the collar of Felix's shirt, making him shiver, before beginning to unfasten the buttons slowly. "Did you dress up for me?"

Eyes lowered, watching Phillip's hands with rapt fascination, Felix hoped the moonlight bleached the blush a little.

"Yes."

Phillip pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, even as his hands slipped beneath the fabric of Felix's open shirt, touch cool and sure. "I'm glad."

So was Felix, even if he couldn't articulate it into words with Phillip touching him like that. He reciprocated shyly--or at least tried to, despite having to stop every few moments, either sucking in a breath at the graze of Phillip's fingers on his chest, or the rich texture of Phillip's shirt under his own.

Blue silk. Black hair. Golden eyes. In retrospect, it was difficult to see how he'd missed the signs.

He moaned, face buried against the crook of Phillip's neck, at the first skin-to-skin contact, shivering as Phillip drew him close. He inhaled the familiar scent of the forest and the wind and the night. His Phillip. His savior, too, really; love for this man renewed Felix's love for his art. If he had Phillip at his side, he could do anything.

His shirt was tossed aside, though Felix had no doubt it would be returned to him somehow as immaculate as the day of purchase.

"Do you trust me, Felix?" Phillip's fingers traced his shoulder blades, followed the line of his spine down to the small of his back. Every touch left heat blooming across Felix's skin. He was hyper-aware of everything, every patch of skin, and especially the ache between his thighs.

"Yes."

Phillip smiled, tilting Felix's face up, lips moving along his jaw in soft nibbles.

"Do you remember what I told you was going to happen?"

Felix swallowed, his pulse surging, arousal pounding almost painfully even within the confines of the dress slacks. He pushed against Phillip, too hungry to care about propriety.

"Yes." He let Phillip tug him down to the ground, unconcerned by his surroundings. The grass should have been cold beneath him, but it wasn't. It felt like a quilted blanket, soft and comfortable, shifting and giving beneath him as though it was trying to cradle him to Phillip's specifications.

Phillip's lips rained butterfly kisses to the pulse points beneath Felix's jaw, and Felix's heartbeat leapt in response. Phillip's hair was a satin soft curtain that tickled against Felix's shoulder and collarbone as the kisses moved lower, warm wet tongue laving at one nipple.

Felix had felt all of this in his dream. Reality made his head spin.

A whisper of something like panic crested as Phillips' hands tickled at his waist, deft fingers unfastening Felix's pants. Phillip valued art, and beauty. There was no way Felix could live up to any of it. He wasn't a fast car or a gorgeous house, and he certainly wasn't a piece of art. He was just Felix.

Phillip looked up at him, when the tension shivered through Felix's body. A smile curved those full lips, breathtaking and predatory. His eyes remained locked on Felix's as he hooked his fingers in the pants pockets, tugging the fabric down Felix's thighs.

Pressing a kiss to the trembling muscles of Felix's stomach, Phillip murmured, "Lift your hips." He repeated the action with Felix's shorts when Felix complied with the order.

His arousal nudged Phillip in the shoulder, as though demanding attention. Mortified, Felix squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away.

"You're beautiful," Phillip said, one hand cradling along the underside of Felix's cock, lips brushing along the top reverently.

"Phillip--!" Felix cried out, feeling an intense throb shiver along his shaft, far too close to release for comfort. "I…!"
Wrapping his hand more firmly around Felix's cock, Phillip kissed his hip. "It's all right." His fingers stroked firmly, brooking no argument with the reassurance. "I never said you could only have one."

There might have been amusement in Phillip's tone. Felix only heard the roar of his blood in his head, the shush of the grass beneath him as his hips pistoned against Phillip's hand as he came.

When the haze cleared from Felix's vision, Phillip was smiling down at him. He shifted out of the line of sight momentarily, and Felix felt his pants being tugged the rest of the way off, and no doubt tossed aside with his shirt.

"Sorry…"

"For enjoying my touch?" Phillip raised a brow. "Oh, yes, I'm appalled that you'd react this way to pleasure." The grin was more playful than anything Felix had seen on Phillip's face before. It was happy, carefree, and Felix felt the speed of racing through the forest again.

Felix laughed a little, breathless.

"Hmm…" Phillip watched him, leaning down to lap at the moisture left at the tip of Felix's cock, making it twitch again in response. "Laugh again. It suits you. You need to do it more often."

Felix reached down, emboldened, hands stroking Phillip's hair.

"I have reason to, now."

Phillip turned his head, kissing Felix's palm. "So do I."

Sliding up his body, Phillip settled against the cradle of Felix's thighs. He'd removed his own pants somewhere in Felix's daze, and the electric thrill of skin contact made Felix's arms tighten around Phillip's shoulders, holding him tightly.

Phillip stroked him again, slow and leisurely. Fingers slick with Felix's release, Phillip lowered his hand between Felix's legs. Felix raised his hips, accommodating the touch before Phillip even asked him to. He was rewarded with a sweet kiss.

"Relax," Phillip said. Felix didn't know how else to be; he felt as though he was floating, weightless and boneless.

He squirmed as the fingers, warm and wet, buried into him, only to the first knuckle. It wasn't pain, Felix doubted Phillip could cause him pain if he tried, just a strange aching at the stretch.

"Okay?" Phillip asked, tongue lapping at Felix's lower lip.

Felix just nodded, unable to articulate with words exactly how okay it was. He whimpered when Phillips' fingers withdrew, and the sound was countered by a soft chuckle when the fingers returned, wetter, burying deeper and harder inside, thrusting slowly. The tips of his fingers brushed against something that made the stars above him scatter at the back of Felix's eyes, made the breath rush out of him in a whoosh.

"Talk to me, Felix," Phillip murmured, voice husky. "Please…"

"I…" Felix shook his head. "I don't…"

"Yes, you do." Phillip kissed his cheek, fingers thrusting fast and deep. "You do have the words."

Felix wondered if this was how Phillip had coaxed and cajoled him into painting, too. Soft words of assurance and belief, insidiously making Felix have faith in himself without even realizing it.

"Want you…" He arched beneath Phillip, arms wrapping at the sweat-damp hair at the nape of Phillip's neck, feeling his own skin feverish against the cool ground under him. "You told me to believe in what you could do for me, right? Well I do." He pushed back against Phillip's fingers. "Show me what the ride's really like…"

Phillip smiled, eyes burning gold as he gazed down at him.

"Always, my dear Felix." Phillip kissed him softly, fingers withdrawing. Felix wasn't given the time to feel bereft, the blunt, heated head of Phillip's arousal pressing where his fingers had been. "Always."

Felix cried out as Phillip thrust against him, the ache of stretching becoming the delicious burn of friction. His cock shuddered in Phillip's fingers as his lover stroked him purposefully, nothing teasing about the touch now. Felix's head spun with the sensation rushing over him, the scent of Phillip's skin, the cool breeze of the forest. It all blurred and melted into one and the same the more Phillip touched him, the faster his hips and fingers moved.

It was a wilder ride than anything Felix could have imagined.

This was for all the right reasons, he thought. This was perfect.

He clung to Phillip as he came, staring up at the pale moon through the black branches, the deep blue canopy of sky, the silver shimmer of stars. Phillip held him tightly, breathing his name on broken cries, thrusts erratic and then stilling altogether as Felix's climax triggered his own. As Felix lay happy in a sated daze, Phillip murmuring gentle praise and endearments against his ear, he couldn't ever remember feeling as loved, as cherished.

This was art, he thought. This was beauty.

The image came to mind unbidden, of the lone black horse against the white canvas, the picture waiting to be completed.

“Come home with me…” Felix smiled up at Phillip, mind singing with color and shape, fingers itching to wrap around a paintbrush…among other things. “I want to show you the last painting I owe you.”

END