Work Text:
Kanemaru was a painter and every day he diligently went to his classes. That’s where he met him, the most beautiful person he ever had the chance to lay his eyes upon. Worthy of Michelangelo finest work, his beauty rivaled even La Pietà and made Mona Lisa pale in comparison.
The man had volunteered as a model for this one class and was posing in the middle of the room, calm and still. The stranger was lying on his side, naked safe for a sheet circling his hips, chastely hiding his manhood. His skin was lightly tanned, like the sun itself did not want to damage such an enticing person, his hair a faded brown and his eyes were the color of a lukewarm sunset. Every person in the room could see the young man was completely stunning. The first thought that popped in Kanemaru’s mind as the model was positioning himself was “A true work of art”.
And so the student took his pen and tried to transfer on his canvas all the elegance that transpired from the other man. He lost himself to the lines his pen was scratching on the thin paper; the raspy sound filling the previously silent class. Kanemaru directed his focus to the model in front of his eyes, peeking behind his canvas. He observed the way his torso twisted to face him, how his biceps were flexing with the effort of supporting himself on only one arm, the other resting on his hip.
Everything in the stranger’s appeal had a certain duality to it, his features emanating both strength and delicacy. With his entire body locked in the same position for hours, it seemed like the model was a sculpture. Unexpectedly so, the student found himself slowly falling for the man he was drawing, and as he traced subtle muscles he could feel his hear swell. Perhaps it wasn’t so unexpected, he wondered while glancing to the model, then surrounded by the amber light of a few rays of sun.
After the class was over, Kanemaru was taken by a sudden fear of never seeing the stranger again and tried to stop him on his way to the door. Scratching his neck, he nervously asked the model for his name. Toujou, he repeated quietly, letting it roll on his tongue like it was a secret. Toujou was a kind person and it was easy to talk with him. Letting his apprehension drop, the painter allowed himself to relax. The classroom was a little too cramped and hot for his liking, consequently the young man asked the brunette if he was willing to take a coffee with him. The model said yes, an easy smile on his face.
At the café they talked about everything and nothing, about their path as painter and model and life in general. Kanemaru found that the other man was extremely passionate about his career and that he loved helping out people by volunteering to model for classes. They discovered that they both had played baseball in their younger days and discussed about high school years briefly. The blond realized it had been a while since he had this much fun and felt heat coiling in his stomach at the conclusion that it was all thanks to Toujou.
Thoughts were racing in his head, governed by the desire of seeing the man again. The simple “I want to see him again” at the beginning of the evening had changed to “I need to see him again!” He felt a fleeting panic take him and tried to calm down, pondering on a way to guarantee a next meeting. As they were saying goodbye the student blurted out a request. “I have a painting project coming up, would you accept to model for me?”
He hadn’t thought his question through and did not expect a positive answer; surprised washed out on his face when he heard a “Yes, I’d love to!” They exchanged numbers and fixed a schedule of two meetings every week for a month.
Every meeting added in the affection Kanemaru felt toward the other and with each painting he did the blond could sense his love growing. He never got tired of marveling at Toujou’s firm body and kind heart. Although they got along quite well, the painter doubted the brunette would one day return his feelings. Thus, the only thing he could do was to put all his admiration on the canvas, letting his inspiration born from passion guide his brush. He channeled the emotions overwhelming him in the colors he chose and the contours of Toujou’s frame he so attentively depicted.
Never did he notice the way the idle man in front of him was avoiding his eyes, that under the intense gaze of the blond Toujou was always staring at the blank wall. Truth to be told, the model had also fallen for the painter and thought his love would stay unrequited. He was scared his eyes would betray his feelings, the love that grew out of their meetings and comfortable silence.
It took three weeks for the oblivious men to understand that their affection for the other was shared. The day they confessed was marked by a memorable night together; marked by breathless moans and the both of them coming apart under the other’s touch.
In between sighs, Toujou looked in the student's eyes as if he was searching for something. He drew near Kanemaru’s face and whispered in his ear. The model let the words leave his mouth:
“Paint a masterpiece on my skin with the tip of your tongue, brushing with your lips every inch of me. I want to lose my mind with only the feeling of your breath ghosting on my flesh.”
The earnest and intimacy that could be heard in his voice made the blond burn with impatience. Encircling Kanemaru’s hips with his legs and putting his arms around his neck; the model faintly kissed him. The rest of the night was spent on fulfilling the request Toujou had made with only the stars as witnesses. When morning came, sunshine gradually entering the room and warming it up, Kanemaru woke up with the brunette in his arms.
Looking at him, his sleeping face peaceful and angelic, the painter dared to think that Toujou surely was his greatest masterpiece.