Ficlet: Artistic License, Cam/Lorne
Title: Artistic License
Author: Rubygirl29
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash, Cam/Lorne
AU: Breakaway
Disclaimer: Sadly, Cam, Lorne and the SG-1,SGA background aren’t mine. The Breakaway AU, however, is.
Author’s Note: Thank you for the anonymous prompt! *Cam/Lorne - Cam waking up to find Lorne sketching him*. It was a good one!
Inspiration
Cam was a light sleeper. Years of being in the Air Force, and now in SGC, had taken the gift of deep sleep from him. Still, there were times when he slept well, if not deeply. When Evan was curled against him, his smooth skin pressed to Cam’s back, his breath just brushing Cam’s shoulder, his arm draped around Cam’s waist; then the comfort of another body, of a friend keeping watch, let his taut nerves relax.
His first moment of awareness was that Lorne wasn’t in bed. The second was the sound of rain on his windows and a soft scratch and brush, that was almost but not quite rhythmic. He cracked open an eye. A soft, diffuse light was coming through his windows. He turned his head. Evan, wearing one of Cam’s bathrobes, was sitting in the window seat. His hair was mussed, spiked up with sleep. A morning flush stained his cheekbones. His knees were jacked up, supporting a drawing pad. He held a charcoal pencil, and his lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration as he drew and then softened the line with his fingers.
Cam smiled, stretched. “Ev?”
Lorne held up a charcoal-smudged finger. “Hold on. Don’t move.”
“Why?”
Silence as Lorne continued to draw. “I’m almost done.”
“Show me?”
Lorne made a few more strokes before he put the pad down. He smiled at Cam. “Later. Should I start coffee?”
“No. You should come back to bed.” Cam held out a hand. “It’s Sunday, it’s raining, and we don’t have to be anywhere.”
“Sounds good to me.” He stood up, Cam’s robe sliding from his shoulders. He dove back under the covers and next to Cam. “So, back to sleep?” His eyes were crinkling at the corners and his dimples were dancing.
Cam raised himself on his elbow. “Not exactly.” He bent his head and kissed Evan; gently then more hungrily as Lorne responded. Cam pulled back a bit.
“What?” Evan asked.
Cam’s thumb traced a gentle line down his cheek, then up to his forehead. “You have a smudge.”
“Oh.”
It was all either of them said for a while.
Later, replete with sex and still too stirred up to go back to sleep, Evan slid out of bed and reached for the robe. “I’ll get that coffee.”
The bed seemed empty without him. Cam got up and went over to the window seat. He picked up Lorne’s sketch pad. He flipped through the pages. He was always awed by Lorne’s talent. He had a way of drawing light and shadow that somehow captured nuances of emotion beyond the mere image of his subject. The last drawing made Cam blush.
Evan had drawn him as he slept; his head turned slightly. He had pushed the sheets down to his waist, and one arm was out-flung, his hand open and vulnerable. In Lorne’s eyes, Cam’s mouth was soft, his lashes feathered, his facial bones were strong and fine. Cam, who didn’t have an ounce of vanity in him, was moved to know that in the eyes of his lover he was beautiful.
“Do you like it?” Evan spoke from the doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hands.
“Yeah ... It doesn’t look much like me.” Cam’s voice cracked a bit.
“Are you casting aspersions on my work?”
“No. Just on your subject.” Cam shook his head. “I never looked so good.”
“I draw what I see,” Evan said and came over to him. “Can’t fault me for that,” he said. He put the mugs down and stood close to Cam, tracing Cam’s collarbones with the tip of his fingers as surely as he traced a line with his charcoal. Cam’s skin shivered at that light touch. Even kissed the pulse just below the angle of his jaw. “It’s still raining,” he whispered. “And, I ... uh ... could always use more inspiration.”
Cam chuckled. He pulled Lorne back towards the bed. “Never let it be said that I stood in the way of an artist and his muse.”
“So, now you’re a-‘musing’?”
“One of these days ...” Cam tackled Lorne, and they kissed their way down to the mattress as the rain sang on the roof.
The End