Last night I found a picture at
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honeyandvinegar's journal. It made me think and I just had to write something... This is for
moit ! Thanks for everything!!! The picture
The ficlet ... - no beta, all mistakes are mine (as always)
Title: "brush and paint"
Pairing: C/Z
Rating: G
They don't like hot summer days, days when every movement, every touch makes you sweat like a pig. It was one of these days Zeke discovered a new time filler. He started painting long time ago, played around with different colors on paper and canvas. Unfortunately the results couldn't be regarded as satisfactory at least in his opinion though Casey was thrilled what he was able to create.
It was one of these lazy Sundays when Casey tried it for himself and Zeke... watched him. He liked what he saw, the concentration on his face with furrowed brow arising from deep thought. He could see how the tension made his muscles harden, he was caught by his slightly tilted head when he stopped now and then. This had to be it. This was what he wanted to do.
Silently he asked him to take his shirt off what produces a puzzled look on his friend's face. "I want to try something, Case... Trust me..." and that he did. As he always did. After Casey stripped off his shirt Zeke nearly examined him with his fingertips only, stopping at his belly, causing shivers and goosebumps. Usually he preferred air brush but not this time.
Air brush body painting - no way, this would mean he wouldn't have to touch the alabaster skin, he woudn't feel the smoothness beneath his hands... squirming, shivering Casey... This time he'd prefer applying fine lines with a thin brush. The color... primary colors as well as glitter metallic? He wasn't sure, not yet. He wouldn't paint a picture, no - it had to be something special, something exceptional. This meant that Zeke, as the 'artist', need to make it special. Painting his shoulders, his chest, his belly could be modest as well as ... sexy.
The longer he looked at his skin, inhaling the scent, he now knew the perfect canvas - human skin. For a few minutes neither of them spoke.
Zeke had his stereo on low, listening intensely to Casey's breathing who had closed his eyes, laying on the floor, eyes open - staring at the beautiful face. I wasn't the painting that made Zeke feel at peace, it were Casey's little moans of pleasure. Zeke's brushes didn't paint - they danced.
The image of Casey's thin body ... his hands close to his skin ... it was almost too much. His mouth watered quiveringly as he touches his belly with fluent rhythmical little circles ...
'zeke'... he never heard this hoarse voice before... and felt an electric shock running through his body. 'Zeke' ...
'I'm not ready... not yet, Case...'
"Fuck you! You can't touch me like this...'
"I don't touch you, it's the brush..."
At this moment Zeke wished he had used melting-white-luxury-chocolate instead of these colors... This idea made him feel all the more ... 'excited'...
"Next time..." he murmured "next time" before he put the brush away and started exploring Casey with his hands, and his body...
Few hours later, in the early evening hours, Casey had left minutes ago - he couldn't bring himself to smile. This was intense, special. When he looked at his feet he realized little white stains on his jeans ... jeans he'd never wash... He still had the image of his Casey in his head, naked, painted and sated...
The painting:
Good night, f-list . Have a wonderful week!
Jesus - only 5 days until the wedding...
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