"Does anybody know that the King of the East has gone missing?" Kee asked as he stepped back to look at his arrangement.

Night nearly shook his head before remembering that he was not to move.

"No," he said softly. "Unless they've just noticed."

Kee chuckled before reaching to adjust a pair of fat, bright blooms that offset Night's fair skin. The bedding beneath him was all a deep and ruddy color, like the clay used for bricks, and the flowers that Kee had decorated him with were orange and yellow and pink.

"Only I know that you're here," Kee said as he circled around to where his canvas sat. "You can sleep, if you'd like."

"No," Night replied. "Not yet."

Perhaps once Kee fell deep into his work, he would allow himself to doze. But for the time being, he wanted whatever of Kee that he might get. Little glances, shallow conversation, a temporary abandonment of Kee's art for more... physical pursuits.

Night did not doubt that Kee would have him. He was already naked; he almost always was when Kee painted him. Naked in Kee's bed, in every guest room in Kee's residence, in the garden on the thick grass, in the baths...

Surely, heads had turned at the series of intimate paintings whose model so closely resembled the King of the East. Surely...

He could not help a soft smile at the thought. He'd once been embarrassed by Kee's insistence on painting him, but it had become a welcome escape from his everything else. With Kee, there was just the tranquility of their idle chatter, the silence of Kee's concentration, and often the satisfaction of completion when art was forgotten for something more carnal.

Then dawn would come and he'd need to slip back eastward, where his proper life awaited... Rarely did anyone notice when he left. Night had excuses aplenty anyway, not that there was any reason to question the king.

He'd just offer the same serene smile that he was giving Kee, though he wasn't sure it would be what Kee would want in the end. They had done a variety of sketches-- more casual, more posed, more aroused...

There was a bright, large yellow flower either drawing attention to or from his flaccid penis; Night wasn't sure which. He rarely looked at Kee's sketches. He wasn't entirely sure what his elder brother had in mind this time, only that it would be filled with the color of late-spring's flowers.

Suddenly, he wanted to suggest more color. Daytime, a blue-tile pool, green grass, and all the flowers floating around him. But his days belonged to the East. His nights...

Once, twice, Kee drew close to examine colors before retreating. The third time, he brushed flowers away and reached stroke a line from Night's chin to mid-stomach.

"Kee..."

"Let me have you. I cannot keep looking at you without touching..."

"Then have me. Have me as though it's been years..."

Kee was on him a moment later, his mouth hot against Night's. Night had far too much practice getting Kee's clothing off. Though it wasn't as if he was wearing anything beyond a single layer.

Night groaned as Kee stroked his cock, the yellow flower lost off the side of the bed.

"Paint me in blue and green and deep purple," Night said softly. "Bathe me in color, to offset my lack."

"Pose for me," Kee replied. Kee's clothing was shoved to the other side of the bed. It was a big bed-- it wouldn't look that way in the finished painting.

"Always." Kee's fingers were in him as he spoke and he--

Night wished he could stay gone.