He run his fingers through his hair, the soft tangles falling loose as flesh passed through the blond locks.

His eyes drifted downwards, staring at a point on the floor, his mind wondering what he would be doing if he were back home. He wondered if he'd be lying on the glass, the sun on his face, the wind against his naked flesh as his eyes would have gazed at the reflection of the shinning sun on the pool. He would have felt alive, breathing and relax with no sounds around him, with no words spoken, with nothing needing his attention.

"Relax."

The word brought him out of his reverie and his eyes snapped back onto the person standing barely five feet from him, camera in hand, tired eyes looking right back at him, and he nodded at the lie spoken by harsh tone.

Relax. That was nearly impossible when you had things to ponder, when you had to have your mind on the job. And he hated this part of the job.

But he nodded once again, turned around and looked at the couch he was sitting on. He snorted in self-deprecation, but did as he knew he should and lay down, his eyes going over to the white painted ceiling, his mind wondering above and beyond once again.

He accommodated himself, trying to find some sort of comfortableness in the unpleasantness of the situation itself. He rested on his left side, his right hand placed on his hip, the other one along his side. His eyes, once again, were cast downwards.

"That's good."

He snorted loud and didn't care if the guy heard him. He hated this part. He hated having to get through this with a blank mind or otherwise he just might stand up and walk out. Blue eyes blinked slowly, trying to find a place where his head didn't throbbed as much as it did at the moment and where he could think. However, he couldn't do that. He had things to attend.

Another snort left his rosy lips and he could feel the guy's eyes on him.

"Look at me."

What was it with soft phrases and meaningless words? Was he supposed to understand anything beyond them, besides the need to get something from him?

And it was always like this. He always had things to do, auctions to present, parties to attend and people to see, people whose names he wouldn't remember twenty minutes afterwards. He had calls to make and words to hear and papers to sign. Things complicated with every breathing second and sometimes he wondered if to stop breathing would make things easier to carry.

He tried to control his respiration as his head turned, trying to find something that would ease his mind. Brian was standing on the side, having a coke and Alex and Howie were talking while Alex had a cigarette. He snorted as he shook his head, not caring if he screwed the take; only Alex would have a smoke on a closed and public place. But then again, it was a photographer's studio and practically everyone in this business smoked, so there shouldn't be a problem.

His eyes drifted again, falling onto cameras and people coming and going, models changing clothes and lenses being changed. Like he cared for either of those things.

And then, when his mind seemed to overflow with information and was about to go into overdrive, his eyes felt on a turned back, and Nick smiled.

"That's it. That's good. I like it."

The words fell on deaf ears. Nick's head titled to the side in the slightest, barely visible way even if you had been paying close attention.

His right hand shifted on its place, going lower on his waist, resting just above his navel covered by dark green silk that felt onto the dark red velvet couch. His legs moved as well, his left one bending just a degree, the other one extending over the first.

"Don't move."

Flashes kept going out, the light so carefully placed around the small set casting a dim glow over his person, shadows dancing around him as his smile softened.

The other person, the one standing under the unarranged light of a tall lamp that stood on the corner of the wide and open room, swirled to the side, his profile visible from where Nick was laying down.

Nick's eyes moved over to the features that shone dimly and a soft breath left his barely parted lips.

His mind kept moving around the place, shifting from one side of the globe to the other, words passing through, flying under clouds and over feelings, memories blazing like fire ignited erupted into seething scarlet flames that burned eternal, stoked and kindled by wonderment and bewilderment and longing.

A dark lock of hair fell onto the hidden eyes that were kept from Nick like a left seeking water in the middle of the desert, and his mind, like his hands would have done, reached out, itching to touch it, to feel it.

He marveled on the memory, on the feeling that seemed so real in his bare right hand as his fingers closed into fist around the cloth that covered his body. It would feel like the silk that had been transformed into clothes, he was sure of it. It would feel soft on his flesh, in between his fingers, around his neck and in his lips. Soft hair would feel like cotton in his fingers, it would move with his hands, it would slip in his grasp and try to get away, to escape his reach, but Nick would win at the end.

His body shifted again, his left hand moving over the surface of the couch. He stretched cat-like, agile and lithe. Flat palm stroked the soft velvet that seemed to whisper in his ear, that bended under the pressure.

"Don't move, will you?"

His cheek rested on the back of his hand, his own flesh warm against the sensitive skin of his cheekbones. He smiled softly, barely the corners of his lips twitching upwards in a ghost of a smile, almost dreamily, almost lovingly.

The man moved, turned completely around and leaned on his hip, aligned exactly against the edge of the table thrown against the far wall. His legs were crossed at his ankles, and the man smiled so brightly, the whole room shone and Nick had to close his eyes, it was blinding and air left his lips in a whispered that felt unheard.

"Don't close your eyes. Don't do that."

When the moment passed, when air entered his deprived lungs once more, Nick parted his eyes opened, gazing over at the man that was moving around the room.

Nick followed him with his eyes.

"Look at me."

He didn't hear the words being spoken at him by a young man with a camera at hand and an exasperated look on his face. His eyes did as they wanted, as his mind wanted, as his hands wanted to do and reached out for the man clad in a black suit with two buttons undone on the top of the shirt.

His movement, the way his hips swayed from side to side, the manner in which the fabric felt around his shoulders and his legs, it seemed as if it was the touch of a lover. Each movement was with a grace that couldn't be imitated, but one was born with. It was elegant and confident and secure in a way he could neither be nor even dream of being. The man held himself with remarkable poise, each step measured and decisive.

Nick slant a glance at the man under lowered eyelashes, his face moving at its own accord as it followed the man around the room.

"Don't move, will ya?"

The man stopped not so many feet from him, but for Nick it felt like an ocean standing between them. Nick's chin rested now on the back of his palm, his head tilted and his eyes admiring the soft colors that danced on the edges of the structure that was this fine man. Curves moved delicately, softly, like a whisper in between words of love in the darkness of the night and the overwhelming of nighttime of lovemaking.

The eyes Nick couldn't see turned around to stare at something beyond Nick's eyes and even beyond his own attention. The flesh of the captivating creature fell under a soft light that seemed to dance around, making bows of respect and elegance, assenting the angel like stature this person held around him.

Another breath left his mouth in utter awe.

Flesh and skin would feel like butter in his hands. Soft and malleable, and they would quiver under Nick's administration, the young blond would see to that. Whispers would be heard in the dark night, in between soft sheets that would make the sensitive skin flush with a myriad of emotions that would shine on the eyes Nick was deprived of at the moment. Purrs would leave that mouth that Nick's eyes couldn't gaze at, couldn't contemplate at the moment because of the hindering light disposition.

That same flesh blue eyes gawked at would burn with passion, passion felt and kindled by soft fingers tips that would search for each shift of the form, each bend on the bone structure that seemed to be made by an artist, a craftsman that had succumbed into a never ending inspiration for this beautiful, admirable, awe inspiring creature to be born into this world. Thus flesh would taste like apples under the rain, like petal flowers under ones' lips and smell like cologne and soap, like home fresh cookies and elm.

Hot breath left his lips as he closed his eyes at the memory, at the imagination, and he could almost hear the groans and whispers, he could almost feel the flesh curving under his breath, bones turning around, wanting to get away from the predatory touch and wanting nothing else but to be touched for the rest of live itself.

That admiring and capturing body would soften under Nick's touch, that body would succumb to the words spoken in drunken passion. Smoldering skin could be felt under Nick's fingers and he whispered into nothingness once again.

Flashes kept going around him, but his eyes roamed the flesh and body.

The face shifted slightly, moving the side, and the light was just the right one, on the right position and on the right amount for lips to be seen, gazed at, roamed through, and dreamed of.

Thin lips that reminded Nick a thread of droplets on the grass after a rainy night. Rosy lips Nick could almost taste under his own. The blond closed his eyes pensively, and in his mind, he run his fingers through the rose flesh, humidity touching his fingers tip and staying there for a whisper. And then the lips turned, shifted under his own soupcon, one corner raising upwards on a movement that couldn't be seen but could be felt, and Nick felt it like he felt the warmth of the body by his side, under him, all around him and his mind and his feelings and his touching.

Clear and rose flesh shone under dim romantic light as Nick's eyes batted open, gazing at the other man's lips that seemed to whisper of a passionate night, of feelings the other man have never experienced, they promised things that could only be spoken under hushed tones and with secretive smiles.

Inquisitiveness shone in blue eyes, his head tilting to the side.

"Keep that look. Exactly. Marvelous."

Nick's mind, his fingers and his own lips wondered how they would taste, and his imagination did the exploring for him. His eyes half closed, shielding the light from entering, but the thoughts left free as they swam and flew through the wide open space that was designated for such feelings.

The tip of Nick's tongue extended to damped his own lips and he reeled in the feeling that could almost be caressed, pictured those lips under his own, and he knew they would taste like strawberries, like strawberries with chocolate. Sweet, so very sweet, that Nick couldn't stop tasting them against his own, that Nick couldn't stop himself from touching them and staring at them from this moment until eternity.

His own head turned around, his lips brushing against the back of his palm, moistening it with a soft touch, and in his mind his flesh were those lips, and his own essence couldn't hold from desiring those lips, from wanting them, from needing them against his own, under his flesh, on his flesh, on his eyes and on his heart.

Art made form and marble made flesh edged to the side, his elbow coming to rest on the table, his eyes fixed on something past Nick as the man was being gazed at.

Nick's lips turned upwards in an evilly smile as he finally obtained such he had been waiting for. Emerald eyes shone under the light, peered under thick eyelashes and Nick marveled on the shade. In this whisper of a second, it seemed clear green, clover green, and in the next one, when the light seemed to blink and change its mind, the color shifted over the rainbow and picked a different combination of yellows, magendas and cyans.

The color darkened in a blink of time, and this instant Nick's eyes gazed at a pea green shade of eyes that stared with sheer focus on a point Nick didn't care of.

Wonderment shifted into amazement and over bewilderment, his hands moved along with his body and his thoughts, and they crossed over the velvet couch, crossed under his chin and mirth reflected in his own ocean blue eyes.

"Perfect. Amazing. Keep that up."

One shadow crossed those eyes, the shade tinting with a dip of dark, and the color modified itself like a chameleon, seeking security into the indefiniteness of the colors that went through their iris.

This time, it was apple green. Such a green that one could only dream to find in the perfect apple that would tempt and haunt any living being on this planet. And one would bit in, sink in their teeth just to reel into the sense of such a feeling, of such a taste that would drip from the tongue and into the corner of the lip; utmost perfection in just one sense.

And when this color stayed on the eyes, Nick's hand hankered to touch them, to feel them. The blond man, eyes almost closed as passion swift through him, knew he could kiss such eyes. He would lean over and kiss them, caress them, fingers would press around the edges and over the thin flesh that were the eyelids, and he would feel the fluttering of the muscle under his touch.

He would kiss, and he would savor, and he would adore art and imagination made flesh and bones, and he would thank everything that was above man's knowledge for placing such a perfect creature on his path. He would kiss the man until time froze over and the icicles that run blue and silver would crystallize and freeze over again.

His hands would roamed the body, would touch the flesh under his fingers tip and would know every inch of skin like it was his own, and would map it for further investigation. His hands would explore the curves that hid under the clothes, the flesh had hid away from his view. His nerves would burn inside from the desire and unstoppable craving of feeling them twitching, shivering and trembling from the pleasure Nick would evoke from the man that would lie under his body.

Blue eyes locked with green shades that shone under the light, that shifted at one's desire, and those irises had never looked so green and inviting, so accepting and intense, so tempting and beautiful, so astonishing, so tasteful, so clear and perfect.

Then the moment broke like a lack of resilience in a spring that had been stretched too far past its elastic limit, light sparking off shards of a cracked mirror. The flashes stopped and movement was heard, drawing Nick's attention from the drawing in coal made human and onto the man standing before him, examining his camera.

Nick's eyes fluttered in confusion.

Camera in hand and frustration once again visible, the man sighed. "We're done. You can go now."

Nick nodded absently, sitting down straight, his eyes going over to the other man that was still standing to his side, fixed on something Nick couldn't recognize.

Nick's eyes remained downcast, even in the face of the moment having shifted dramatically; it was as if that second of admiration and perfection had been so grand and astonishing that it struck as deep as reality would have, and Nick was still reeling from the impact it had pressed upon his person.

He shook his head as he stood up, as if trying to get rid of the cobwebs that were still trying to grasp at his notion of reality.

His eyes search for that that had been venerated in the short lapse when reality had paused still and seconds had turned into lifetimes; and he found it, standing by the table, exactly where he had left him, his face visible from where Nick was standing, his action noticeable in the plain light that came from the center of the room.

A soft whisper left Nick's mouth, and this time it was cocooned in passion and ardor; it wasn't ought to adoration or astonishment. It had nothing to do with the sort.

The yearning that had blossomed in his heart was crushed with only the silent blow of the flame of a candle that had been illuminating the man's form for the past minutes.

With a sigh from Nick's part and a cracking of his now bleeding heart, he saw Kevin standing on the corner of the table, arms crossed on his chest, emerald shade having shifted into dark jade that reflected the leaves of an autumn seeking tree just before turning from lovely green to saddening red, talking with a woman. The woman, evil on tight shirt and high heels, laughed at the words and lowered her head.

Nick snorted, anger, fury, frustration and recognition visible in his eyes. She was hitting on him as a four by two would the chest of a drunken man.

He shook his head as he saw Kevin's nose wrinkling under the soft words being spoken, the corner of the older man's lips quivering upwards and Nick rolled with anger that it wasn't him who was the responsible for such reactions, that Kevin's lips weren't quivering under Nick's own.

If that wasn't enough, if the torn hadn't been sunk into Nick's barely beating heart, Nick saw the man leaning even further closer to the woman and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It seemed to prove the romanticism and promises Nick would never have.

A flash going off made Nick turn around to see Brian on an old metal chair with a clear blue background, the photographer capturing moments in time, just like he had done with Nick.

Letting out a sigh between his lips, Nick's face was turned to the side in an almost physical pain, like a slap had been given against his cheek and Nick could almost feel the burning twinge of the stroke. Kevin's hand would have been printed on Nick's cheek, had the aggression being true. Kevin's fingers would have been craved on the flesh.

The ache in his cheek, an ache only Nick could see, only Nick could stare at as he looked at his own reflection on the mirror, a redness on his precious cheek Nick could feel throbbing under his fingers as he touched, followed him as a reminder of such he could never hold, never touch, never taste nor smell.

Such pain staid with him during the trip from the studio to the hotel and in the way to the venue. It, somehow, changed, morphed and turned into agony and anguish that shone brightly inside his chest, that glowed in the dark on his skin and through his veins like silver blood, as he changed clothes for the songs, a woe that didn't lessen with each word that left his mouth during the concert, but the other way around. It seemed like the longer that ache mirrored the suffering he had inside, the worse it became. With each word that left his lips during that concert, the more it hurt, the more obvious it grew to be that Kevin would never purr from the ministration Nick would give the older man.

Soft whispers would never be heard in between satin sheets, and the lovely taste Nick could almost drink from his tongue will never be experienced. The curves would never be known, never be investigated and carved into Nick's memory, as the blond had been sure they would have been.

And when he got to his hotel room that night, when the door was closed behind him, leaving him alone in the darkness that resembled the one in his heart after the memorable afternoon he had experienced, it was then that his anger took shape.

Standing in the middle of the room, his back to the door that led to the hallway and only two doors down where Kevin was now taking off his clothes, walking into the bedroom and pushing the covers down as he made his way into the bathroom for a comforting shower, Nick sighed.

He needed something. He needed, he craved, for the human touch his mind had been aching for the whole afternoon. He wished he could get the hard body, the dark tanned skin, thin droplets lips and pear green eyes, but at the same time knew perfectly well such thing could never be accomplished. He wished he could conquer such body, such person and soul, that he would hear the purrs and groans that would confirm his occupation had been successful. But such thing was never to be permitted of him.

But as it's said, as words were spoken for a thousand years, where there is a will, there is a way; and Nick found such.

Resolution flaring on his skin, Nick left the room and in barely seconds he was standing before that of his adoration. The knocking on the door wasn't heard at first, so as permitted by friendship, Nick entered with a confidence of a man who knows what they want.

The door to the bedroom was ajar, and Nick kept going on his quest, searching for that he had been missing since the instant his eyes fell onto the magical creature under the dim light.

A cascade of water falling onto the tile floor indicated the exact location of the man, and Nick wasn't to be stopped by a mere door.

He paused for a second, admiring the perfect view of the even more perfect man standing behind crystal walls, water running down his body and hands hiding the perfect face. And with a sly grin Nick parted such door and stared at the man as Kevin stared back with confusion in his eyes.

"Nick, what--?"

But the words were cut short as Nick's lips descended upon Kevin's, marking a territory that had been so long ago claimed, if only in the closed quarters of Nick's mind.

And, to Nick's very own surprise, the body succumbed under him.

Later that night, a body did quivered underneath him, lips groaned under the ministrations of the blond, closed eyelids were kissed and skin was tasted and curves were memorized, not a second the knowledge of Kevin's presence leaving Nick's thought. The blond felt Kevin's body under his, felt Kevin's breathing thickening with each lick and kiss, smelled Kevin's cologne and saw Kevin's pear eyes and kissed Kevin's thin watery lips.

And when Nick fell asleep just as the sun was rising on that very same night on the verge of tomorrow's morning, another person snuggled up comfortable against Nick's left side, legs draped over Nick's own, arm around Nick's chest, thoughts of Kevin yielding under Nick's touch filled Nick's lethargic mind.