ficlet: Turn Your Camera On
Title: Turn Your Camera On
Rating: Teen for sexual themes
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Genre: Completely AU, all human, sexy fluffy romance
Spoilers: None.
Summary: He's a photographer who is jaded by all of life's little inspirations; but when she walks into his studio for the first time, he thinks maybe he never really knew what being inspired was.
Author's Note: Based heavily on Kaskade's "Fire in Your New Shoes" video. Found here.
He had had models inspire him before. In front of the camera or in bed, it didn't matter; he was an easily moved man.
But when she walked into his studio in nothing more than a black leotard and heels, red lipsticked pout begging to be smeared and eyes full of challenge, he thought he'd never seen something that looked so much fun.
"Move me," she said, and already his flash was illuminating her and capturing her, stealing her away for moments in time he could look at forever, later.
He didn't need to instruct her. She made herself at home, striding away to the wardrobe room like she owned the studio, coming back with simple, uncomplicated items and making them art. She did his work for him.
When she ripped the white T-shirt off her chest, tearing it away with frustration and sex in her eyes like a tongue splits apart threads of bubble gum, he told her how much he wanted her with the click and beep of the camera.
He licked his lips and watched her over its tiny digital screen.
When she bound herself in a scarlet silk scarf and raised her hips to meet him from across the room, his heart thudded outrageously in his chest, heating him up and making him feel sixteen. It was dirty. He loved it.
She spun like a wild thing unleashed in nothing but a large gauzy black curtain, whipping the fabric about in a way that set him free in her image. He watched, his fingers making the camera come alive only by muscle memory.
The last thing she did for him unprompted was take off her shoes. She bent straight down to do it, bum against the wall behind her and eyes on him as she unbuckled them, slid them slowly from her arch and dropping them unceremoniously beside her. She smirked and stuck her tongue between her teeth, giving a little giggle as she wiggled her toes.
Click. Beep. Click. Beep.
When she slid to her knees and spread them wide, one arm on the white brick wall and one tugging the left leg hole of her leotard more widely open, he decided there was only one place in the world for this cheeky little minx of a model.
"Get on the bed," he growled. Growled. Her smile was smug.
She crawled on her hands and knees to him, shoulders rolling in a fluid figure eight. His breath hitched, and he wondered when this had become something more than a shoot. His heart hadn't slowed down since he first met her eyes.
She was looking at him like she loved him, and Christ, she'd only said two words since she walked in the door.
She stalked her way on top of the mattress. Adorned in only a grey sheet, she still made the bed look like heaven on earth. She bit the corner of her thumb and watched him; he knew he had to make love to her or she'd stay with him, follow him like a ghost. He'd never be a free man again; but from her? He wasn't certain he wanted to be, not when she looked at him like she knew his secrets and wanted to taste them.
Click. Beep. Click. Beep.
She rolled to her side and clutched the sheet, taut stomach muscles rippling and shuddering as she pulled it with her, jutting her chest and closing her eyes. The flash touched her everywhere; he wanted to follow it and lick the smirk off her skin.
She opened her eyes and stared into his, amber into brown. She gave him a smile that was nothing like she'd been seconds ago; this was light, and care free, and made him think words like jeopardy friendly and I bet she wanders off in crowds.
Suddenly she was there, right in front of him, and snatching the camera from his hands. She turned it on him, giggling, sitting up on her feet and crinkling her toes with delight.
Click. Beep.
"Oi!" he protested, unable to not grin despite himself. She was infectious. His favorite kind of disease.
He hoped the flash didn't reveal his hard on, and thanked whatever god he didn't believe in simultaneously for black jeans and for bringing this living art within so few inches of him.
"If I played connect the dot with your freckles, how many constellations would it make, d'ya think?" she mused.
Click. Beep.
"Enough it would be like travellin' th' stars," she said.
Click. Beep.
"I doubt people want to see my face as much as they want to see yours," he countered, feeling warmer by the second. It must have been the flash. A single woman shouldn't be able to do that to him. He fancied himself superior to such trifling things as crushes.
"What people want don't matter." She came in close, lips a second from his and even fuller this close than he'd thought they'd be. Her eyes softened with something like wistfulness. She held him strong with those eyes. "What do you want?"
"I..."
She kissed him. He didn't know her name, didn't pay attention to bookings anymore, and she was kissing him full on and he was flushed and his tongue was flicking against her lip and she was giggling and moaning at the same time and he loudly sucked in air as he pulled her closer by her neck, nipped her lower lip until she squealed, ran his calloused fingertips over the exposed skin of her collar and sighed into this goddess' mouth.
Click. Beep.
He slid a strap of the leotard from her skin, pushed it impatiently down her shoulder and sucked there, lightly at first and then so hard she was keening. Marks. Marking her. He couldn't fathom why, but it was suddenly so important she took something of his home with her. She shivered under him, and he fisted a hand in her hair to hold her head still. She looked at him with hooded eyes, and with his free hand, he stole the camera back from her.
Click. Beep. Click. Beep. Click. Beep.
His finger didn't stop taking pictures. She looked like she'd been shagged senseless, and he hadn't seen any more skin than her shoulders. His erection was going to be completely insufferable if he didn't take her home. Immediately. Now. Yesterday. Right this sec--
"Go out with me later this week. Chips, yeah? Best first date food I can think of."
He blinked at her, stupidly. "Date?"
She laughed. A loud and honest sound. "Don't think you're getting me t'bed without at least some chips first."
"I don't even know your name, and you want to go get chips?"
"Chips're good for a girl's spirit. 'Sides, makes all the other models jealous."
He laughed out loud at that, a sound he hadn't heard bubbling from his mouth in years. He was charmed.
"Alright, chips it is. Early evening Wednesday, chippy round the block. Meet me there."
She nodded and grinned hugely. He returned it, helping her to stand as she gave him one final not quite chaste kiss on the cheek. Her lips lingered long enough he felt their warmth seconds after she was already to the door, grabbing her purse and slinging it casually over her shoulder.
"I still don't know your name!" he called after her, the camera limp in his hands.
She turned back to him and put her tongue between her teeth. "Wednesday, chippy round the block!" she called back. Then she was gone, the door giving a soft poof of air as it closed behind her.
He pointed the camera at where she had just stood, thinking about Wednesday with little excited knots in his stomach and an unstoppable smile gracing his mouth.
Click. Beep.
Part 2: ( The Fabric of Your Flesh )