He blinked, the shapes becoming out of focus. He couldn't quite see what he was drawing, but it didn't really matter. He could draw these in his sleep. The images were pouring out of him.

It'd been years since he'd gotten this kind of inspiration.

Darren wasn't about to lose it--wherever it had come from. He hadn't slept since yesterday, but he couldn't seem to stop long enough to even think about slowing down. Every time he drew back to take a break, he was bombarded with another image.

Slowly, meticulously, he filled the walls with caricatures, roughly penned figures. He just hoped he didn't run out of ink before he ran out of ideas.

He took time to eat briefly, then to answer the call of nature. If he'd had more time to spare, he would have cursed the interruptions.

Music played softly in the background, just at the edge of his awareness, the same fourteen tracks over and over again. He couldn't be bothered to change the music, it was irrelevant anyway. It was the figures that filled his mind.

His arm lifted again and again, Darren couldn't keep up with the flickering pictures. They were changing too fast for him to keep up. He whimpered in frustration.

Colors passed behind his eyelids, but he had to make do with the blue ink at his disposal. Of all the times to forget his colored inks...

He was just glad he was alone for this. He'd left his father in Calgary, despondent over Aaron's disappearance. Best not to think about that. He'd come here for answers, but they would have to wait.

He had to draw the figures.

Darren wiggled, testing the strength in the arms holding him down. Turning his head, he made room for the long, swiping tongue that was attacking the side of his neck. God, that felt good.

"I want you panting for me, begging me before this is over." The voice was low and rough, spoken beside his ear.

Curling his toes, Darren sighed. His head fell back, his eyes closing lazily. Something brushed his side, a hint of fur. It was soft, triggering his nerve endings and causing him to shiver in delight.

The other man chuckled, sliding his palms down Darren's sides, caressing the sensitive skin on his belly. He shifted until his head was level with Darren's hips, then he nuzzled the skin his hands had just stroked. A rumbling, sawing noise filled the room, almost like a giant cat was lazing somewhere nearby.

Darren paused when fur brushed his stomach instead of the smooth skin he'd been anticipating. What was going on here?

"Do you want this?" the voice murmured.

He was about to speak when a warm, velvety hand clasped his cock, squeezing in time to his rapid pulse. Darren arched his back, crying out.

"Is this what you want?"

Whimpering, Darren opened his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the other man. It was completely dark in the room, he couldn't see anything. The man holding his shaft started to glide up and down, pressing his thumb against Darren's slit. Stars burst in front of his eyes, almost enough to have Darren losing it completely. That was close.

"Yes, baby, I think that is what you want. Come for me, I want to hear it."

Darren cried out, his body jerking with every long pull of his cock. The other man played him like an instrument, his every touch sure and deliberate. There were no hesitations, not even when he started to lick Darren's stomach. His long tongue played with Darren's navel, flicking in and out, a parody of what Darren wanted him to do to his ass.

"You're almost there. Yes, like that."

"Uh, oh, God, please..."

"Now, come for me now."

Wordless pleas filled the room, Darren gasping and shuddering through his orgasm. He felt as if his very essence was leaving him, all because of this man above him. His shadow man. Darren panted, blinking in the darkness, trying to get a glimpse of his partner. Why couldn't he see him?

"Soon, little one. Soon."

Darren moaned, lifting his head to see that he was lying on the floor at the base of what he assumed was the couch. All he could make out was a blurry, blue-dotted monstrosity. Had to be the couch. He would never forget those giant blue flowers spread across the cream fabric. At least it used to be cream. After years of abuse by two rambunctious boys who grew up to be rambunctious men, the sofa had taken quite a beating.

"And that's quite enough of sleepless nights for me. Where did that dream come from? Someone needs to get laid, apparently."