(no subject)
Title: Masterpiece
Author:
_theduchess (that's Olitwean)
Prompt- brush, curve, flush, paint, beautiful
Word Count- 687
Rating- PG
Warnings- none
Author's Notes: Lavender/Graham, for Jess. SORRY that I did Graham so badly, I'm REALLY terrible at writing him. I TRIED I SWEAR. Also, unbeta'd. (mine are never beta'd.. oh well.)
“You should just talk to me, you know.” Lavender had been lying there for nearly an hour, eyes shut, breathing gently, and Graham had been sure she was asleep. She hadn’t moved at all for as long as he’d been watching her, and he thought it was safe to gaze at her, to drink her in.
“I thought you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” It was a lie. He wanted nothing more than to wake her, to wake her and have her smile to see him, to have her smile and laugh and talk with him for days and days.
“So you stood there and stared at me?” Graham sucked in his breath. He didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t look away once he started, couldn’t look away from her in that blue dress, with her hair all strewn around her.
“I wasn’t staring, I was just… lost in thought.” She opened her eyes at last, and Graham nearly sank to his knees. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, a sexy, bedroom eyes look that Graham couldn’t resist.
“You’re lying.” His stomach clenched.
“Its just, uh, I’ve always wanted to. You know. Paint you.” He looked away, struggling to regain his composure.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” She glanced at his sketch book in his hands, his paints under one arm. “You can, if you like.” His heart pounded. After so long, so much waiting, so much yearning, he could paint her?
“Are you sure?” He’d blurted it before he could stop himself. He’d been so suave with other girls, so calm, what was wrong with him? She started giggling, and he flushed.
“Of course! Where do you want me?” Everywhere, his mind whispered to him. He quelled his impulse and smiled, gesturing.
“If you could, uh, sit against the tree. Just relax, you can move, but try not to.” He opened his book to the next clean page and used a piece of charcoal to sketch out her basic body shape, oval of her face, down through the slope of her shoulders and the gentle curve of her breasts and waist, through her hips and all the way down her long, languorous legs. She rested one hand across her body, her fingers curling in gently on her collarbone, and he sketched that, too. “Stay there,” he commanded, too lost in his drawing to care what he sounded like.
He opened the paints and coated his brush with a soft pink, sweeping it across his sketch in loose, free strokes. He added blue across her body, dabbing in purple to capture the slinky shadows in the folds of her skirt. Golden brown fell from the crown of her head, spilled down her shoulders, and wove itself in her fingers. He painted the grass brushes against her crossed ankles, painted the sweet half-smile she wore. The hours wore away as he recreated her on his page, and he barely noticed the sun gradually sinking behind the trees.
Finally, he set down his brushes and closed his paints. “I’m finished,” he announced, but Lavender had already noticed and crawled over to see the finished piece. The way she bent over made it easy to see directly down her dress, but he looked away.
“Graham, its beautiful,” she whispered. He grinned, pride swelling in his chest.
“Only because you are.” She was looking at him in the way again, and suddenly she was very close, her breath hot on his lips. Unconciously, he slipped a hand onto her collarbone, the place where her hand had rested only seconds before. She smiled against his lips and kissed him, kissed him fiercely in the dying sunlight, kissed him so that he tipped over onto his back and pulled her with him. She giggled when he rolled them over and kissed her back, kissed her hard and passionately, and she sighed when he pulled away.
“Thank you.” She kissed him again. “You’re a wonderful artist.” He grinned and rolled over to lie next to her.
“I had a wonderful muse.”
Author:
_theduchess (that's Olitwean)
Prompt- brush, curve, flush, paint, beautiful
Word Count- 687
Rating- PG
Warnings- none
Author's Notes: Lavender/Graham, for Jess. SORRY that I did Graham so badly, I'm REALLY terrible at writing him. I TRIED I SWEAR. Also, unbeta'd. (mine are never beta'd.. oh well.)
“You should just talk to me, you know.” Lavender had been lying there for nearly an hour, eyes shut, breathing gently, and Graham had been sure she was asleep. She hadn’t moved at all for as long as he’d been watching her, and he thought it was safe to gaze at her, to drink her in.
“I thought you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” It was a lie. He wanted nothing more than to wake her, to wake her and have her smile to see him, to have her smile and laugh and talk with him for days and days.
“So you stood there and stared at me?” Graham sucked in his breath. He didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t look away once he started, couldn’t look away from her in that blue dress, with her hair all strewn around her.
“I wasn’t staring, I was just… lost in thought.” She opened her eyes at last, and Graham nearly sank to his knees. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, a sexy, bedroom eyes look that Graham couldn’t resist.
“You’re lying.” His stomach clenched.
“Its just, uh, I’ve always wanted to. You know. Paint you.” He looked away, struggling to regain his composure.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” She glanced at his sketch book in his hands, his paints under one arm. “You can, if you like.” His heart pounded. After so long, so much waiting, so much yearning, he could paint her?
“Are you sure?” He’d blurted it before he could stop himself. He’d been so suave with other girls, so calm, what was wrong with him? She started giggling, and he flushed.
“Of course! Where do you want me?” Everywhere, his mind whispered to him. He quelled his impulse and smiled, gesturing.
“If you could, uh, sit against the tree. Just relax, you can move, but try not to.” He opened his book to the next clean page and used a piece of charcoal to sketch out her basic body shape, oval of her face, down through the slope of her shoulders and the gentle curve of her breasts and waist, through her hips and all the way down her long, languorous legs. She rested one hand across her body, her fingers curling in gently on her collarbone, and he sketched that, too. “Stay there,” he commanded, too lost in his drawing to care what he sounded like.
He opened the paints and coated his brush with a soft pink, sweeping it across his sketch in loose, free strokes. He added blue across her body, dabbing in purple to capture the slinky shadows in the folds of her skirt. Golden brown fell from the crown of her head, spilled down her shoulders, and wove itself in her fingers. He painted the grass brushes against her crossed ankles, painted the sweet half-smile she wore. The hours wore away as he recreated her on his page, and he barely noticed the sun gradually sinking behind the trees.
Finally, he set down his brushes and closed his paints. “I’m finished,” he announced, but Lavender had already noticed and crawled over to see the finished piece. The way she bent over made it easy to see directly down her dress, but he looked away.
“Graham, its beautiful,” she whispered. He grinned, pride swelling in his chest.
“Only because you are.” She was looking at him in the way again, and suddenly she was very close, her breath hot on his lips. Unconciously, he slipped a hand onto her collarbone, the place where her hand had rested only seconds before. She smiled against his lips and kissed him, kissed him fiercely in the dying sunlight, kissed him so that he tipped over onto his back and pulled her with him. She giggled when he rolled them over and kissed her back, kissed her hard and passionately, and she sighed when he pulled away.
“Thank you.” She kissed him again. “You’re a wonderful artist.” He grinned and rolled over to lie next to her.
“I had a wonderful muse.”