Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

Silence reigned.

Colin snorted and shook himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, because apparently you all of a sudden think you're a ghost hunter.” He shut the door behind him, blinked to adjust to the shadows, and truly assessed his surroundings for the first time.

Directly in front of him a staircase led to the second floor. No side tables, chairs, or furniture of any kind existed in this area. The medium-shade wood on the floor and the balustrade didn't exactly gleam, but nor was it riddled with a layer of grime. The walls looked dust free too, and although the ceilings were high, Colin couldn't see any cobwebs littering the corners.

So you at least like the inside of your home clean. Squared-off openings led to rooms on either side of the foyer, the layout exactly as in Colin's dreams. He moved to the left one first, pausing at the entrance. A big-screen TV, brick-colored couch, black recliner, and coffee table took up a third of the space, with the rest empty to the point that it would probably echo if he walked around in it wearing hard-soled shoes. Three long columns of white curtains hung from ceiling to floor on the front wall, breaking up the line of the large, open window. Unmoving now, with no breeze, the ends lay in gauzy puddles on the hardwood floor.

Without entering, Colin turned and crossed to the opposite side of the foyer. The second room was a duplicate of the first in shape and size. With matching front window and curtains, this space held less furniture than the previous one did. Only a desk, chair, and computer occupied the area, looking rather pathetic in one corner of the room. Probably close to an electrical outlet, much like the room across the hall.

Two more decent-sized rooms took up most of the rest of the downstairs. On quick inspection, they were completely empty. There was a bathroom tucked in one corner, and a kitchen ran across the back length of the house. Colin entered, and through the window over the sink, he found a surprisingly manicured backyard with a glass-enclosed structure; Colin could only assume a greenhouse. I wonder if Marek uses it, or if it is gutted inside, like much of this house. Colin's gaze drifted beyond the yard to a spectacular view of the green-covered mountain centered on the island. Hell, it looked so close Colin almost felt like, if he opened the window, he could reach out and touch it.

I could live here. I could make it my home forever.

Knowing that he was getting ahead of himself, Colin tore himself away from the window and kitchen. He took the stairs two at a time, forcing himself to look around the second level with detachment. Like downstairs, the hallways were free of furniture, and three of the four bedrooms were empty, dark caves with closed doors and shuttered windows.

Then, Colin found Marek's bedroom. A rich, solid cherry wood bed, dresser, nightstands, and bookshelf made up the room, with curtains and a view to match the front rooms downstairs. Colin could see a bathroom through an open door inside, but not even his rampant need to know everything about Marek and this house would make him step into such a place of privacy. Didn't matter that Marek said he didn't care; people had to hide their secrets somewhere, and with the emptiness of every other piece of this house, Colin had to imagine Marek kept his tucked away somewhere in here.

Bracing his hand on the door frame, Colin stared at the large, high bed, and his cock stiffened, pushing against his jeans. Drifting before his eyes, he saw an image of Marek nude on top of the pristine white comforter, his tan, hard body a feast of visual delight from which Colin could not pull his eyes away. With his legs spread, Marek pulled on his prick with one hand and played with his balls with the other. He had his head thrown back in a plush pile of pillows, and his ass dug into the coverlet with every twist and turn of his aroused body. Colin watched, mesmerized by the sight, and his own body grew warm with tingles all up and down his arms and legs. He curled his fingers around the wood under his hand, digging in, and a slam of raw emotion and need whooshed through his body like an explosion. At the same time, the phantom Marek turned his head and looked right into Colin's eyes.

Colin flew backward, stumbling away from the intensity in that stare. He fell into the balcony railing, jamming his hip and kidneys. Ice-pick-sharp pain pierced Colin's bone, taking him to his knees. Fucking beat-down. Ignoring the old injury, Colin scrambled across the floor back to the doorway, but the picture of Marek masturbating was gone.

Heaving on the ground, Colin had hardly any power left in his body. His heart and limbs felt sapped of strength, and his hands shook too. Glaring at nothing in particular, he groaned as he shifted off his hands and knees. “That might have been a bit more intense a sign than I needed, thank you very much.” He settled his spine against the doorjamb of Marek's bedroom, resting his arms on his raised knees while he waited for his legs to come back to him enough to move.

Should he confess his dreams to Marek or keep them a secret?

Colin didn't know what in the hell he was supposed to do next.

* * * * *

From the cover of trees, Marek watched Colin untie his speedboat from the dock and climb inside. The ocean breeze lifted the man's brown hair, and it would soon dry the perspiration-dampened edges. Stopping in front of the wheel without turning over the motor, Colin looked at Marek's house, watching for a prolonged moment, and then slid his gaze along