Title: The Eye Of The Beholder
Author: dastiel_gal
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, PWP
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen
Warnings Enticements: Nah, this is pretty tame for me... :)
Word Count: 898
Disclaimer: I don't own Jeffrey Dean Morgan or Jensen Ackles, more's the pity, this is all scurrilous lies, and I am not making money from this.
Summary: The way the kid's posed - well, let's say the view is mouth-watering. And that's an understatement that would make an Englishman proud.
Author’s Notes: Written for
pigeongirl99 at the Jeff/Jensen comment fic meme
here for the prompt Life Classes - Artist!Jeff and Nude-Model!Jensen please! Cross-posted to:
jeff_jensen,
jdm_rpf and
spn_rps.
Download from AO3 ~~~ooo000ooo~~~
Jeff's keeping his head ducked down behind his easel, trying to ignore the pre-class chatter of the other students. It's not that he doesn't like them, it's just that... they're such kids. Take now, for instance. It's their first life class, and they're all squeaky-voiced and high as kites, just over the thought of seeing real! live! NAKED FLESH!! right in front of them. Anyone would think they were all virgins, and he's damn sure that ain't the case.
"I heard he's better looking than Brad Pitt!"
"My friend did this class last year and she said he's built like a Greek god."
Christ. Jeff closes his eyes and wishes himself at home in front of the TV. He's starting to wonder why he thought this evening class would be fun. Then the door behind him opens and he hears Sarah, the tutor, greeting everyone as she enters.
"Okay, good, you're all here on time so let's get started. This is Jensen, everybody, our model for today..."
Jeff busies himself with his materials, aware out of the corner of his eye that the model has disrobed and arranged himself on the table in front of the class. He rolls his eyes at the chorus of stage-whispers and muffled giggles going around the room. Ridiculous. It's not like this kid has anything speci... Jeff's eyes finally lift to the model, and his inner monologue is struck dumb on the instant. Fucking hell. He drops his charcoal, then in a fit of complete hamfistedness, damn near knocks his easel over while groping for it.
He tries to be adult about it, really he does, but the kid's so gorgeous it takes Jeff's breath away, and the way he's posed - reclining on his elbows, knees bent at nine and twelve, feet towards Jeff - well, let's say the view is mouth-watering. And that's an understatement that would make an Englishman proud.
He manages to draw... something. When Sarah comes round later in the class, she stifles a snort, and tactfully tells him the torso needs some work. Well, yeah, he can't deny that his attentions have been focussed on the face, and the- what's the artistic euphemism for junk, again?
For all the kid's facing him, he hasn't made eye contact yet, which is probably a blessing, because Jeff's pretty sure his face is a picture of flagrant lust. He'd be ashamed of himself, dirty old man that he is, except for the fact that there's too little blood left in his brain to allow his conscience to function. Then the kid's eyes flick up and meet his for the first time and Jeff is lost, lost like a tourist with no sat-nav, lost always and forever.
They stare at each other, frozen, for seconds that seem to last an eternity. Then Jeff wrenches his gaze away to his drawing, heart hammering, and ruins the torso irretrievably with a few hasty, ill-judged strokes of charcoal in a trembling hand. He looks back at the kid - Jensen, was it? - and finds him still looking at Jeff. They stare at each other for a few seconds, and God, Jeff's a fucking asshole and old enough to know better, but he can't resist raking his eyes down Jensen's delicious body and back up, blatantly checking him out. The kid's eyes widen in shock, mouth falling open and freckles disappeared into a hectic blush spreading across his face.
Jeff pretends to work on his botched drawing, glancing back and forth and messing about with his charcoal, but really he's busy fantasizing about the many and varied, completely filthy things he'd like to do to the naked body spread out in front of him. After one particularly wicked thought which makes him lick his lips in wolfish glee, he looks up to find that the flush has spread down to Jensen's chest, and holy fucking Christ on a Harley, the kid's lovely cock is unmistakably thickening. The rest of the class can't see it behind his raised leg, but Jeff has a ringside seat. He watches, entranced, as the boy hardens and flushes more with every second that passes, eyes looking away and then flicking helplessly back to Jeff like he can't stop himself.
"Okay, that's it for today. Good work, everybody. See you next week," Sarah calls out, and in a split second Jensen has rolled off the table away from the class, his back to the students as he snatches up his robe and flings it around himself. As he hurries past on his way to the men's room to dress, he glares at Jeff and throws a muttered "Jesus fuck, dude!" at him. Jeff has the grace to feel bad about it; must be hella embarrassing, popping a boner while naked in front of a whole art class.
He lurks around outside the main entrance afterwards, smoking and, well, lying in wait. After a few minutes, he sees Jensen come out.
"Hey, look, man, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I mean, you know you're gorgeous, right; you must? But I had no business being such a lecherous asshole about it. Can I buy you a drink to apologize?"
Jensen looks him up and down, then barks out a laugh. "Drink? Dude, for that, you owe me a three-course dinner at the very fuckin' least. What are you doing on Saturday night?"