Life with an artist
Two drabbles. One old, one new.
Inspiration
The prompt was 'kisses'
Brian woke to a familiar sound. Justin drawing rapidly by the window, afternoon sun slanting in, warming the red chalk and charcoal.
He watched the play of light on Justin’s arms, the ripple of his muscles, the sway and shift of his hips and shoulders. And when Justin paused and bowed his head, lifting the hair off his neck to cool the flesh there, Brian stood to accept the offering.
He crossed the worn wood floor and kissed the pale skin of Justin’s nape, kissed the fine gold down, kissed the sweet, sweet hollow at the base of his skull.
Hot Plate Included
I had to include the words: flame, shout and table
Sweat-soaked and panting, they collapse, the draft from the broken window cooling them as it sends one of Justin’s sketches skittering across his work-table.
“Was that a rat?”
“Shut up,” Justin laughs, swinging his legs onto Brian’s stomach, “and massage.”
“Shitty mattress.”
“Please. You fucked me for over two hours."
He grunts blissfully as Brian digs in, fingers expertly working his thighs.
When he’s done tending, Brian lights up, the flame briefly illuminating the ruined sheets - Justin's housewarming gift.
In the hallway, there’s a drunken shout and Justin scoots down quickly, swallowing Brian whole before he can utter another word.
Inspiration
The prompt was 'kisses'
Brian woke to a familiar sound. Justin drawing rapidly by the window, afternoon sun slanting in, warming the red chalk and charcoal.
He watched the play of light on Justin’s arms, the ripple of his muscles, the sway and shift of his hips and shoulders. And when Justin paused and bowed his head, lifting the hair off his neck to cool the flesh there, Brian stood to accept the offering.
He crossed the worn wood floor and kissed the pale skin of Justin’s nape, kissed the fine gold down, kissed the sweet, sweet hollow at the base of his skull.
Hot Plate Included
I had to include the words: flame, shout and table
Sweat-soaked and panting, they collapse, the draft from the broken window cooling them as it sends one of Justin’s sketches skittering across his work-table.
“Was that a rat?”
“Shut up,” Justin laughs, swinging his legs onto Brian’s stomach, “and massage.”
“Shitty mattress.”
“Please. You fucked me for over two hours."
He grunts blissfully as Brian digs in, fingers expertly working his thighs.
When he’s done tending, Brian lights up, the flame briefly illuminating the ruined sheets - Justin's housewarming gift.
In the hallway, there’s a drunken shout and Justin scoots down quickly, swallowing Brian whole before he can utter another word.