fic: form drawing
Title: Form Drawing
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: Zemyx
Genre/Rating: Romance/Humor/T
Summary: Today’s subject was form drawing of the unclothed male. Namely, Zexion. God’s Gift to Mankind. Demyx imagined he felt a nosebleed coming on. And the guy hadn’t removed so much as a shoe.
In walked the most gorgeous guy Demyx had ever seen. He wore nothing on top but a very loose, open at the front, dark gray sweatshirt - sans shirt, revealing a carefully sculpted torso. And not the kind that should be in a body building competition, either. This guy was a born Calvin Klein model. And if Demyx could just manage to tear away his eyes from the soft curves and shadows - hey, he was an artist, dammit! - of the guy’s abs, he’d notice the face, the right half of it covered by a curtain of sheer silk in grays and slate and silver. The one visible eye was a tempest of navy and steel, and Demyx quickly pinched his own arm in a hopeless attempt to bring himself to his senses. Why oh why did he have to be an art major? He chanced another innocent sweep of a gaze down the line of muscle and felt his heart stop and every ounce of blood in his body rush up to highlight his face, ducking his head down so that God’s Gift to Mankind wouldn’t see him staring. Why did this guy have to have the most faultless, lust-inducing pelvic crease below that masterpiece set of abs?
A pelvic crease like that was Demyx’s weakness.
“This is Zexion Nomura. He’s our model for today.”
Demyx looked up from his sketchbook and stared at his art teacher in horror, shock, and undying adoration.
Today’s subject was form drawing of the unclothed male. Namely, Zexion. God’s Gift to Mankind. Demyx imagined he felt a nosebleed coming on. And the guy hadn’t removed so much as a shoe.
Their studio was a round room with a series of pedestals in the middle, today draped with dark blue fabric and set up like a seat with a very low back and one high arm rest. Demyx had the misfortune to be sitting directly in front of this setup, precisely where he’d get the best view. He buried his hands in his face, mortified, not daring let his eyes wander to the corner where Ms. Gainsborough was explaining a few last minute things and Zexion was apologizing for being late - all while calmly kicking off his sandals and shrugging off his sweatshirt. And then the pants came off.
Demyx was willing to bet that not even Adam himself looked that flawless when he took his first steps on earth in the buff. Zexion walked in his bare skin as though everyone else was naked and making a fool of themselves.
“Okay, class,” Ms. Gainsborough began as Zexion settled himself onto the pedestals, looking like the king of some nudist planet. Demyx looked back down at his sketchbook, found a blank page, and started drawing the draping fabric. “I want you to keep in mind the efforts of Michelangelo as you work. Remember how he spent years just sanding parts of his sculptures to make them seem more lifelike. Note how the light plays differently on the skin than on the fabric and incorporate that into your drawing.”
Next to him, Sora Irino squirmed.
“Is there something wrong, Sora?” Ms. Gainsborough asked. “Are you uncomfortable with Zexion?”
Sora looked up and shook his head frantically, chocolate mane bouncing lightly to and fro. He was blushing furiously and stole another glance at Zexion before hissing in what was meant to be a whisper, “My boyfriend will kill me if I manage an accurate drawing of that!”
Somewhere to his left he heard the unmistakable tulle ribboned laughter of Naminé Snow, the star pupil.
“Well…” the young art instructor seemed at a loss for how to respond. “I suppose I can excuse you from this assignment if you are uncomfortable…” She seemed to smile and said, “If you want credit for this assignment, though, I insist you turn in a sketch for form drawing of the unclothed male. You may complete it outside of class, but I will have to dock ten points from it.”
Sora looked crestfallen. He wasn’t exactly the best artist, and ten points was a significant dent. But then, reading between the lines, he looked up at her and let a true, 100 watt smile light his face. Without another word he scooped up his things and skipped out of the classroom, no doubt on his way to find Riku. Demyx grinned, knowing that either Sora wasn’t going to complete the sketch in favor of more favorable activities, or he would actually get full possible points.
“Demyx?”
“Yes?”
“That’s a very nice sketch of the draping fabric, and I would most certainly give you an excellent grade if that was the subject for today, but, as it is… it isn’t.”
Demyx laughed nervously and chanced a look up. Zexion sat in a lazy, arrogant pose as though he were sitting up in bed after great sex instead of modeling for a classroom full of his peers. Ms. Gainsborough was right. Light did hit the skin differently. Demyx stared in awe. That was art. He let his eyes wander down and started reaching for his inhaler.
Then remembered he didn’t carry one.
He allowed himself five seconds more, then went to drawing, intent on not looking up again for the remainder of the class.
It was a long hour and a half.
He was the first one out the door, and instead of joining his friends for lunch, he went straight back to his dorm and into the cold shower, wondering if it would be too dramatic of him to drown himself. With a sigh, he turned off the water and dried himself off, pulling on clean clothes and wandering out onto campus again. He didn’t have class for the rest of the day, so he was going to get lunch and then go finish that watercolor assignment and start in on that solo piece he was writing for sitar.
He went to the sushi bar area of the student union and picked up a tray of salmon avocado rolls and a bottle of green tea. Xigbar was sitting at their table, playing paper football with Tidus while Marluxia watched. Only half of Tidus’s cheeseburger was on the table, so he figured they’d only be staying a little while longer. He slid in beside Xigabr, anyway and began to eat, only half listening to Marluxia complaining that Riku was dragged out of the plant nursery to help Sora with an art assignment, leaving him to water all the plants himself.
Tidus had just hit Xigbar’s exposed eye with the tip of the paper football and Marluxia was making a fuss about how it was Tidus’s fault Xigbar was going to be blind now when someone came up behind Demyx and said calmly, “Could you excuse us for a moment?”
Marluxia’s head whipped around and his mouth fell open. He poked Tidus in the side. Hard. Demyx didn’t dare look around, feeling two warm hands settle on his shoulders.
Xigbar scrambled out of his seat, still squinting his one visible eye, followed by Tidus and Marluxia.
Only when they were gone did Demyx allow himself to turn around. The first thing he noticed was that in between art class and now, Zexion hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. The second thing he noticed was that he was holding the crudely drawn sketch of himself that Demyx had turned in at the end of class.
It looked like a very good drawing of a thin, hairless monkey suffering from an excessive morphine overdose.
Demyx laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean to insult you or anything by drawing that badly… I’m just… not good at art.”
Zexion raised an eyebrow, his tempest eye softening into an expression of amusement. “Aerith showed me your other pieces. I seriously doubt that this is the best you’re capable of.”
Demyx blushed at the implied compliment and took the sketch from Zexion’s hand. “Well, form drawing isn’t my forte,” he confessed.
“I can see that,” Zexion muttered. “That’s why Aerith insisted you be given more time to… revise this assignment.”
“Revise?”
“Do it over.”
“Oh.” Wait. He glanced up at Zexion, tilting his head to the side in confusion, an almost hopeful expression lighting his eyes.
“And I thought,” Zexion continued, and Demyx noticed that his hand was shaking on the back of the chair, “That since the studio is closed for the rest of the day… and weekend…” He trailed off, and Demyx realized that Zexion seemed to be staring at his mouth with the same fascination and attention he’d exploited from the godlike pelvic crease. He didn’t have a second to realize what that meant, though, because Zexion’s free hand had gently hooked the nape of his neck and he was being pulled roughly and desperately forward, a kiss that started out chaste and worked it’s way to a lustful intimacy clouding his mind.
They had to break for air too soon, and they took it in gasps. Demyx found he was clutching tightly to the fronts of Zexion’s sweatshirt, and he quickly let go, muttering an apology.
“Are you always this dense?” Zexion asked. “I kissed you, in case you didn’t notice.” His eye was bright and his skin seemed to glow with the same sheen it had earlier under the studio lights. Demyx sensed that he was showing more emotion then he had in a long time, and as he decided he was right, Zexion was reaching for him again, and Demyx shot a look around, noting that several people were staring. One guy was even choking on his food while three of his friends frantically patted him on the back.
He held up both hands to stop Zexion from getting any closer, even though he really wanted him as close as he could possibly be. A look of hurt flashed in Zexion’s eye, and Demyx blushed even more, frantically shaking his head.
“We’re in public,” he said.
Zexion blinked.
“There are. People. Staring,” Demyx clarified, and Zexion turned around.
Demyx laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck where it tingled from the touch, and stood, waving the sketch in front of Zexion’s face, feeling bold.
“I think you’d better help me redo this now. In private.”