Here’s chapter 50 of the new book, Dr. Clay, I’ve been writing since NaNoWriMo 2022. Enjoy reading. Let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.
Naked and wet. Both men enjoyed the warm water massages that touched their skin. It smelled great. So soothing in his nose. After Valon poured a generous amount of that perfume, no wonder Clay reached the optimal levels of relaxation he needed these days. After the mess he created, he was in an indescribable state of confusion. He was lost.
Though it wasn’t reasonable for him to crash into Valon’s apartment, he needed him. While Valon remained silent, in Clay’s mind, Valon had had enough.
Despite knowing everything about the consequences that would lead to this earlier, Clay remained steadfast and loyal to this decision because of two things. With him, he felt free and emotionally secure. Even when he had to face and endure the direst situations in this relationship, walking away was not an option, even if it was the last. He knew he couldn’t let go of this—the love that blossomed in his heart—even if it meant losing everything he had.
Valon leaned back, running a hefty arm across the top of the Jacuzzi. While his eyes remained closed, his legs and knees fell to the sides. He looked down comfortably as he combed his hair with his fingers. Sexy as hell. “Don’t you think this is stupid?”
Clay sighed. “No. Unlike you, I believed there was us from the start. From when I brought you into my apartment and invited you to have coffee with me to when you brought me to the villa and introduced your family, I knew something was happening between us.”
Valon’s snort was eloquent.
But Clay wasn’t quitting. “I meant it when I said I care, though I know there would be higher chances you wouldn’t believe me. But I do.”
Although Valon refused to speak, his anticipation broke. His eyes widened when he saw him pulling his hand, hugging him instead. When his chest pressed against his, he felt his warm thick hand patting his head. The surprised, stoic look on the doctor’s face collapsed. His efforts of keeping himself composed were nowhere against Valon’s charismatic love and passionate embrace.
Then, Valon pulled away and looked him in the eye. Clay froze when he cradled his face. “You can’t imagine how happy I am with you.”
The look in his eyes had Clay feel marked. And the crazy thing was he didn’t mind because he wanted him, too.
“How about you stay here and live with me?” Valon asked nonchalantly, leaving him speechless.
Clay was at a loss for words. The only thing he could do was let out an awkward laugh. I have an apartment to return to. “But you said we keep things professional.”
Valon smirked. “There’s nothing wrong with breaking the rules. Well, I mean—Things got personal lately. So, how about sharing each other’s apartments? Would that work?”
Clay shook his head. “I’d love to. But I like to take things slow.”
Valon paused. He smiled. “Ah, there’s something I like to do with you.”
“What is it?” Clay asked.
“I haven’t done this before, so it would be special if we could do it together,” Valon said as he emerged from the Jacuzzi. His hair was mussed. His nose and cheeks were scarlet. He looked fresh and carefree as he walked toward the hanger to take his dark red satin robe.
While leaving the black strips swaying, he approached the cabinet and took a few paints in glasses and paintbrushes. When he had what he needed, he walked back in his direction and put them on the grindstone table underneath the chandelier casting its glow over him. As if it wasn’t good enough, the first thing he did after he came to a halt was to give him an ear-to-ear grin.
“Have you painted before?” Valon asked.
Clay shook his head. “No. I never did. Why?” He paused, anticipating his reply. He rose when he saw Valon’s hand flick, asking him to come near to him. “What are you doing?” he asked as he took the gray robe hanging and wore it.
While walking toward him, Clay couldn’t let his eyes go off this man. It was too late to back off when he realized he was going down his rabbit hole—admiring Valon’s raw but stunning appearance. He ran his eyes over him, from his broad shoulders to his lean, strong legs. He could make out the lovely lines of his body underneath his robe.
The chandelier’s glow, which haloed over his head, matched his aura of a sex god. His long, curly, dark brown hair matched his beautiful neck. The outlines of his face with his perfect, perfect lips. It felt like the Lord himself handcrafted him. Even with scars that marked his body, Valon looked perfect.
Clay wanted to kiss him here in this dim light. He couldn’t stop reeling his fantasies the closer he was to him. There was no doubt he was a god in his eyes. A god who deserved an exquisite muse like him. Looking at this man in this fashion was addictive. Something about this man had drawn him to get close. Way too close.
Valon flashed a dry smile when he noticed. “Do I look ugly?”
His heart sank when reality smacked his face. “Of course not. You look great,” Clay answered with determination. Then, something caught his eye. He raised his face and saw the dark-amber-colored light bulbs in detail. His eyes widened when he realized these had various shapes and sizes of ancient dongs. His heart jumped while cursing in his mind.
Valon looked in the same direction. His smile broadened. “Oh. That’s from Felix Fabian. He gave it to me after the exhibition. Doesn’t it look stunning?”
“Here,” Valon said when he handed the paintbrush to him.
Clay was on guard. Of course. He couldn’t even draw a twister correctly, let alone try to learn to paint with an artist. “I told you I don’t paint. I’m a surgeon. I use my hands to operate on patients. Other than that, I could only write boring essays and reports.”
Valon shook his head. “Fine. You don’t have to. You can write me a report, Doc.” He teased and pulled the doctor’s hand to his chest. When the brush touched his skin, he continued. “But not on paper. In my skin.”
“What? I don’t—I mean—why would I do that?” Clay sputtered, yanking his hand away from him. He was even more surprised when Valon ignored his concern as he watched him remove his robe and sit on the stool. “Do you mean I will take this brush and write on your skin with paint? In your entire body?” he asked, sharpening his voice.
When Valon nodded and looked at him with interest, he was again at a loss for words. God. His heart swelled the longer he stared at his beautiful eyes. He gulped. He walked on baby steps in his direction and stared at the glasses of paint in various colors, from red to black.
“Just choose any color you like,” Valon announced.
Clay took black paint from the table. After dipping the brush tip with it, he went down to his knees before him, leaning forward to press the brush into the skin. He looked into his scars. He paused and looked into his eyes again.
“Are you sure about this?” When he saw Valon nodding, he gulped. “Alright,” he muttered, trying to keep calm, though he struggled with this man’s intense gaze.
Valon couldn’t stop looking at Clay, painting words on his skin. He didn’t mind what was written on him. All he wanted was to see him this close while enjoying the ticklish pleasure he earned from the surgeon’s skillful hand. Watching from afar wasn’t enough. He needed to have him this close, smell his scent, and feel his delicate yet precise touch.
He wanted to indulge his eyes and suck the looks of this stunning man. He still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have him. Let alone watch him fulfilling the fantasies he had feared before. The effect Clay had on him was drug-like. A tantalizing combination of sexual need and profound ease. Like he had an orgasm, falling into a peaceful sleep.
You can’t be in love with your brother.
For your mother’s sake, you can’t continue doing this.
Was he in love? Or was he just lusting at him?
A chill shot through him, sucking out the warmth in his body. He snapped his head back as he thought about them. Damn it. What should he do now? But there’s no turning back for me. He thought. Confused, he cursed. It’s now or never.
“Clay? I want to tell you something,” he said.
“What is it?” Clay asked.
He gazed at him, pausing while thinking about what Agatha had told him. When he finally gathered enough courage, he briefly shut his eyes, carefully choosing the words before exhaling a soft sigh of conviction. When he opened his eyes again, he blinked and wet his lips to ease. “Thank you for not judging me for who I am.” He stuttered.
Clay narrowed his eyes. His intellect was so fierce getting assessed by him was like being plucked naked and sandblasted. “What should I say? You’re welcome?”
Valon smiled, moved by the respect. “I’ve never brought anyone down here. Not even Agatha.”
Clay looked surprised. “How long have you been hiding this place?”
“For a while.”
“Why did you decide to build it?” Clay asked.
“This place is where I feel free. I don’t have to pretend to be somebody else. To cry and scream when I’m not happy. To act crazy without others watching and judging me. It’s like you and your apartment. I remember you said the same thing.”
Clay smiled. “Right,” he said as he continued writing, though he couldn’t stop glancing at him. “If you’ve been telling me your darkest secrets, is there something else I need to know?”
“I’d be lying to you if I said I was happy to see you go and marry Liz.” He paused while relishing the joyous moment watching the doctor’s anticipation. He took his hand and kissed it. “I can’t bear watching you with someone else. I hated it.”
“Why would you hate it if you said there’s nothing between us anyway?” Clay asked. His voice turned high, somehow frightened.
“Because I’m in love with you,” Valon said in his baritone. He flinched when he saw Clay stiffen, throwing the paint and the brush on the floor.
Am I hearing this? Did he say he loves me? Clay thought. His eyes widened, and his face lit. These were the words he had been begging to hear for a while. It felt great when he finally heard how those words sounded as they came out of Valon’s mouth. How the look on his face had changed at that moment left him beyond excited. While tears dampened his face, Clay refused to get distracted while his eyes remained glued to him, anticipating his next move.
Even though many things happened in a series too fast for Clay, he wasn’t prepared for what Valon would do. Throwing him a hug, squeezing him with his arms. “I love you so much,” he whispered, repeating what he said earlier with more passion in tears.
Surprised, Clay pressed his cheek against his ears when he wrapped his arms around him. Comfortable, he shut his eyes and tightened his embrace, relishing his tight embrace with his eyes closed.
Valon pushed back and looked into his eyes with a faint smile. He bit his lower lip before his fingers caressed his face. When their eyes met, they exchanged gazes for a second before he shifted his hands from his shoulders to his neck, holding his head steady. Then, he moved forward, tilting his head on one side, and reached his lips.
The moment they kissed, Clay gasped and drew his breath into his lungs, taking something of him inside. He rumbled in satisfaction but kept control, stroking his mouth gently, caressing him slowly. When his tongue slipped into his mouth, he immediately felt the invitation to play more.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” Valon said in a gravelly voice he had never heard before. It was laced with raw need and was a stimulant in itself.
“I want it,” Clay breathed. “I need it. Fix me. Cure me,” he begged.
“Yes, Doc,” Valon whispered in a tease, smirking.
So, they headed upstairs to his bedroom. As he lay, he bellowed while he pressed his body against him, arching in immense pleasure.
Hungry for everything Valon gave him, he touched him wherever he could, but the heat he stoked in him soon drove everything from his mind except the release coming on. He was lost when Valon caught his hands and pinned them by his shoulders. While holding both wrists, he seduced his mouth with a series of deep soul kisses. Then, he worked his way down with his devastatingly capable mouth.
Clay erupted with a vengeance, throbbing against him for what seemed an eternity. He was lost on the other side of the rapture. He was powerless. He had lost control. The best he could do was to flex frantic fingers on his back while Valon built a fire inside him to an explosive level. He stroked him inside and out, up and down, back and forth, until his shallow breathing caught. He was shot to the pinnacle of orgasmic release. He couldn’t separate his climax from his until he finally regained consciousness enough to feel the last spasms shaking his body.
Slowly, he breathed hard as Valon lowered himself over him, freer than he had felt since arriving here. A momentary euphoria started to wear off. His return to reality was a slow one. When he could finally open his eyes, Valon had cradled against his supine body, stroking his hair silently. As the trembling eased, Clay felt great fatigue in its place. The pervasive weakness was present.
After a long minute, Valon rolled to his side, still inside him. He looked into his eyes, and for a minute, he couldn’t speak. Something caught in his throat, something deep and emotional, something he couldn’t understand. Making love with Valon had been the experience of a lifetime. As he gazed into his eyes, he realized it was paradise.
Thank you so much for spending time reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote this part three months ago. This chapter, in particular, reminded me of those times when I sat before my desk, seemingly prepared to type in words, but I struggled to keep it up.
It took an external motivation to get it through, and, at that time, the NaNoWriMo event was upcoming. At that time, I thought, “This could be a great opportunity to try and give this a shot one more time. You’d done an excellent job with ‘The Rival,’ so you could do it, Mecyll.”
You know, it’s easier said than done because writing a chapter with a clear intent to finish it requires more than just a skill. Since I started writing fiction, I realized how much this work demands my ability to be naked and the guarantees to answer whether I was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to face my fears, conscious or unconscious.
So, being able to write this down meant I managed despite the countless times dancing around with depression and enjoying the roller coaster rides my anxiety provided me.
This is why I don’t know how to thank you for your support, regardless of the scale or contribution size, from sharing my work with others or buying my books. It doesn’t matter because, for me, every small act you show is appreciated.
Again, thank you, and have a great day!
If you like to support my writing life, here’s what you can do:
- Get a copy of “The Rival” Uncensored Gay Romance Novel.
- Check out my upcoming book, “Non-Native Speakers Only.”
- Find more writing tips on my website (i.e., content writing, freelance writing, copywriting, self-publishing, novel writing, and many more!)
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