They had come back from the gallery opening feeling happy but tired. They shed their clothes and got into the shower. Zizi had soaped Hunter up, washed him clean before going on his knees and sucking off until Hunter came with a shout, his legs shaky and hands in Zizi’s hair.
They’re lying on the bed. Curtains draw and the vinyl record Zizi had popped on playing quietly, the soft twinkling of piano filling the room. Hunter’s head was resting on Zizi’s chest, both of them naked and content.
“I still can’t believe you named the exhibition after me.” Hunter said softly, his finger forming abstract shapes on Zizi’s chest.
“Who else would it have been? You inspire me like none other. It’s my way of saying thank you. My way of letting your name and beauty live on forever.” Zizi replies, his
