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Julian took a breath and stepped off the ledge. The oil was warm, viscous against his boots. He slipped instantly, but Silas caught him by the waist. For a moment, they were a silhouette of sharp angles and soft fabric reflected in the infinite black floor.

Julian looked at his reflection—a distorted, beautiful mess of chrome and oil. He didn't want to be pristine anymore. He wanted to slide. nude oil floor gay massage

"Steady," Silas whispered, his silver-dusted fingers leaving a smudge on Julian’s sheer sleeve. "You’re part of the collection now." Julian took a breath and stepped off the ledge

Julian turned to see Silas, the gallery’s curator, leaning against a pillar. Silas was draped in heavy, oil-resistant PVC tailored into a Victorian frock coat. His skin was dusted with silver pigment, making him look like a statue coming to life. For a moment, they were a silhouette of