infringe: (Loop)
Alecto Crabtree ([personal profile] infringe) wrote in [community profile] fuguestates2022-09-22 05:36 pm

Portrait of a Man on Fire (Painter/Subject)


A STUDY IN RED
( alecto, josh )

A young painter is commissioned to make a portrait of the peculiar young master of the House of Crabtree, who is known to be a very difficult subject not only to capture but to work with.
singinthestorm: (JA white)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-08 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
It's on the tip of Josh's tongue to joke - because I wasn't there? - but he's silent in the face of Alecto's unexpected smile, the warm, inviting bloom of it, the tension that seemed to always live in the set of his jaw dissolved utterly away. He sits, obediently, and then seems to belatedly remember that he didn't even have his supplies with him, and pushes himself back onto his feet to fetch the expensive, top-of-the-line materials that Alecto kept stock of in the room back to the chair again.

He starts, today, with Alecto's mouth, with the fine-boned curve of his jaw and the shadows of his slender neck, picking out minute shifts in expression, the slightest twitch of a muscle, Alecto's lips parted around a deeper inhale than usual. He works lower - picking out the Adam's apple and the hollow of his throat, peeking out just above where Alecto's undone cravat was folded unevenly against pale skin, revealing just a hint of his collarbone. His fingers stop, suddenly, a sense of uncertainty stealing over him. He was certainly capable of drawing and painting clothing, had developed a good sense for drape and texture with his paints. But something in him balks at the exercise, and he stares down at the paper, his cheeks pinking with an odd realization.
singinthestorm: (JA looking down)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-08 01:32 pm (UTC)(link)
"I..." He trails off, uncertainty stopping up his mouth, the magnitude of the desire filling him seeming too disrespectful to let out. But something within him is demanding it, his fingers utterly slack and immobile, refusing to obey the rational part of his mind.

"Have... you ever posed as a life drawing model, for other painters?" he forces out, his head ducked low, his voice a mere whisper, staring at the page.
singinthestorm: (JA Oh I see)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-09 03:40 am (UTC)(link)
Alecto strips with utter unself-consciousness, not a hint of shame, shedding all his clothes with graceful, unstudied movements, as easily as if he were utterly alone in his own room, rather than in the light, airy drawing room, with the curtains open to the gardens outside, where passing servants could easily look in.

Oddly enough, as Alecto's entire body is bared before Josh's eyes, his fingers unclench. He knows his thoughts are not wholly focused on his art, but his devotion to it is still the motivating factor, his hands moving once more on the page, tracing out the lines of Alecto's bare shoulders, his torso, his upper arms. There is an odd familiarity to it, despite this being only the second time Josh had laid eyes on him in his entirety - he knows this body, has inferred it from the deep study he has made of every other visible part, neck to wrists to knees.

He falls under that spell and doesn't even answer Alecto's question.
singinthestorm: (JA summer sunshine)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-10 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
He startles at being addressed, feeling suddenly skittish, like a nervous deer, and it takes a long fraught moment before Alecto's words actually register to his uncertain ear.

"I... don't know yet," he mumbles, looking down at the page again, though he can't help but glance up at Alecto, at the sun-limned expanse of limbs and bare skin, of the sight of his body on perfect display in the last of the morning sunlight, as the clock strikes noon. "I... what would you like, Alecto?"
singinthestorm: (JA Oh I see)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-10 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)
That was not the first time Alecto had said something along those lines - that it was Josh's preferences that mattered, rather than Alecto's, despite Alecto being the customer in this situation. For all that they'd become more familiar over the past few weeks, there were still so many things Josh didn't fully understand about his eccentric and inspiring host's expectations for the work he'd been engaged to create. But he does know that there's something within him that's turning the question over internally, that has a vision for what he eventually wanted to produce. He can hear the patience and encouragement in Alecto's tone, but the unspoken weight of expectation still presses down heavily on him.

"I just...don't understand what you're getting out of this," he says, quietly, glancing up again between Alecto and the page and setting down his chalk. "Surely there are other painters - more skilled than I am - you could engage for this."
singinthestorm: (JA summer sunshine)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-11 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
His pad of paper and charcoals and pencils fall down to the floor as he startles, his fingers clenching reflexively against Alecto's before they loosen again. There is naked longing in his expression, but it is subdued, repressed, as he whispers, "What do you mean by that?"

He can't seem to help running his thumb along Alecto's palm, and then he glances down, suddenly distracted, turning his hand over, facing up. "What...what happened to your cut? It was still here yesterday..."
singinthestorm: (JA Huh how 'bout that)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-11 08:22 pm (UTC)(link)
His fingers squeeze tight, automatically, and then he lets go, bending down to pick up his papers, and blindly groping for at least a few of his other tools before stumbling backwards, away from Alecto. "I-" he stutters, fidgeting, "I - we shouldn't -" but oh how he wanted to, "I should go."
singinthestorm: (JA summer sunshine)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-12 12:10 am (UTC)(link)
He retreats, but he knows he doesn't really want to stay away. If anything, the offer had been far too tempting, too much the physical culmination of all the desires he'd felt building within him for all these weeks. But at the same time, there's a part of him that's reluctant, afraid of what it would mean for things to change so seemingly irrevocably.

There's a spot just off the pathway that overlooks the water, one that the two of them often passed on their morning walks, with a few pine trees lined up along the edge of the cliff, their branches hanging above the waves. Josh settles on one of the rocks, looking out at the horizon, his knees drawn up to his chest. When he hears Alecto's voice - still calm and composed - he hesitates a moment before he calls back, carried by the wind: "I'm here."
singinthestorm: (JA looking up)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-12 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
That was not what he was expecting to hear at all.

"What?" He asks, startled into answering, into rudeness. "No. I. It was something I said, wasn't it? I shouldn't have..." He's not sure what he'd done wrong, only that he must have, that whatever it was that had sparked those thoughts, that had convinced Joshua that his host, his patron, (your muse) had intended to...
singinthestorm: (JA Oh I see)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-13 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
The moment Alecto's lips touch his own, Joshua melts. He leans into the contact, his mouth opening pliantly into the kiss, and he sighs, not so much a sound or reaction as a settling, as though a tightly held resistance had suddenly drained away.
singinthestorm: (JA looking down)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-14 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
He stares into Alecto's eyes, a delicate flush suffusing his cheeks, windblown already from the cold ocean breezes. "Um," he says, eloquently, holding utterly still, seemingly afraid to move, as though Alecto might interpret any motion as a rejection. "Do...do you do that often?"
singinthestorm: (JA summer sunshine)

[personal profile] singinthestorm 2022-10-14 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
Even knowing how picky Alecto was, that still felt like a surprising plurality of painters. Josh nods, trying to sip the honey from the compliment while avoiding the odd sting, and dares to lean forward, chasing Alecto's mouth and pressing a chaste but earnest kiss against his lips. "Talented at painting?" He can't help but ask, feeling more than a little self-conscious, "Or?"

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