copyright 2007 by Sedonia Guillone
"Hey, Paul, will you photograph me?"
Paul froze. He clutched his towel and stopped in mid-rub of his wet hair. The room filled with silence, the only sound, the evening spring rain that pelted the living room window. Slowly, he lowered the towel, turned, and looked at Carlo.
Large brown eyes watched him from under a thick fringe of ebony lashes. Carlo had already toweled the rain off his own thick glossy hair and the shaggy locks tumbled around his face, set off his high cheekbones. His smooth black goatee and mustache emphasized his full lips. Paul had spent countless moments fantasizing about kissing those lips.
Paul's heart thumped. Carlo's beauty always struck him and in the whole three years of their friendship, he'd ached to capture that beauty on film. "Are you serious?"
What appeared fleeting shyness passed across Carlo's face, quickly replaced by his usual coolness. "Yeah, man. I'm serious."
Paul nodded. His heart pumped in rapid beats now and his cock stirred and jumped to attention in his jeans. He set the towel aside and cleared his throat. "Okay, then. If you want me to." He forced himself to act casual, far from the emotional chaos that churned his blood. In three years as housemates, Carlo had never expressed interest in getting photographed, not even in his soccer uniform or at his garage where he designed and built the hottest choppers in their part of California. "May I...uh...I mean, I'm just curious—"
Carlo's soft laughter interrupted him. "I know. You can't believe it." He shrugged and looked down. "I don't know, man. Just like this."
Paul stared at him another moment. He had the sense Carlo was holding something back. But hey, he wasn't going to push. Carlo's asking to be photographed was a fantasy come true, as rare as Halley's comet. "Well..." Paul gestured in the direction of his studio, really, a spare bedroom in the back of his house he'd converted into a studio. "This way." He led Carlo there.
"Should I change or something?"
Paul turned around and looked at him. The rain had soaked Carlo's white t-shirt and plastered it to his lean torso. Carlo's skin, the color of light caramel, showed through the wet cotton as did the tiny peaks of his dark nipples, hardened, apparently, from the coolness of rain. Below that, he wore a baggy pair of jeans.
Paul cleared his throat again. Aside from nudity, Carlo couldn't have looked sexier for the kind of photographs Paul envisioned. "No. You're...perfect."
A shudder of electricity seemed to pass between them. Carlo blinked. "Okay. Just tell me what to do."
Take your clothes off and let me suck your cock. Paul didn't say the words out loud. He wouldn't dare. Carlo had never given him any indication that Paul's wild attraction to him was mutual. Paul figured that if Carlo had wanted him, he would have included him in the string of lovers Paul had seen pass through over the last three years.
Paul cleared his throat again. "Um, just...I don't know. I guess..." His hands shook as he adjusted his camera, already set up on its tripod from a job the day before. "Start with something natural."
Paul indicated the sofa draped with sheets he'd set up for yesterday's photo shoot for Gay Life magazine. That had been a joy to shoot. Three gorgeous guys in underwear draped all over each other.
But today? Was better.
Carlo sat down on the sofa and leaned against the cushions, one muscled arm along the back of the sofa. He looked up from under his heavy lashes, lips pouting. "How's this?"
Paul's heart jumped. Electric heat zinged up his arms and down into his groin. Carlo looked...incredible. In that pose, he was sexy, alluring and innocent all at once. "Perfect," he said softly. He adjusted his camera, set the lighting in the room and shot the picture.
"Should I do another pose?" Carlo sat up and raked a hand through his thick ebony hair. Inadvertently he looked off to one side. Perfect. That pose, too, brought out Carlo's irresistible combination of dark sensuality and innocence.
"Stay like that," Paul ordered. Carlo obeyed and Paul shot the picture.
Carlo turned and smiled. "This is kind of fun," he said. He draped his arms over his thighs and leaned forward.
Paul shot another picture. "You seem to be a natural."
"Nah." Carlo lay back, one arm bent behind his head. His t-shirt rode up just enough to expose half of his tight abdomen. "You're a good photographer, man."
A shiver of lust tore through Paul. He forced his attention off the thin trail of ebony hair that ran down the center of Carlo's stomach and onto shooting the picture. "Thanks," he managed to say. Carlo had often praised his work and Paul felt ridiculously pleased each time. He'd won several awards for his photos in the past three years and attributed his success to the fact that he worked so hard to please Carlo.
The thought made Paul ache to confess the raw emotions he felt for his housemate. He remained silent and kept snapping pictures. His tension melted away as he got into the flow of taking pictures. Carlo moved from one pose to the next, as if he'd been a model for years.
Suddenly, Carlo sat up and stripped off his t-shirt. He dropped it to the floor and looked directly at the camera, his hands on his thighs.
Paul's finger froze on the button. He cleared his throat. His heart took off like a bucking bronc and his stomach fluttered like it did when he had his first crush back in high school.
"Is this okay?" Carlo looked worried. "Should I put it back on?"
"No!"
Carlo grinned and chuckled. "Okay." He lay against the cushions, both strong arms along the back of the sofa.
Paul stared through the eyepiece. He pretended to be adjusting the focus when he was really staring at Carlo's rippling chest and abs, at the soft dark hair on his pecs that trailed down his stomach and at the chocolate brown of his small hard nipples. Paul's mouth watered and now he had a major hard-on in his jeans. He'd had no idea that a pizza out with Carlo and running back home in the rain would end up like this. He shot the picture.
