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teamflareTitle: Let Me Lay My Eyes on the Painting
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: T
Summary: "I'm surprised. I thought you'd be used to being stared at."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: artist&model. Title from The Battlecry by Metric. (With bonus daily drawing!)
AO3 Link: Here.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the bedroom were those of the pencil scraping across the sketchbook page that Augustine had opened in front of him, and then Lysandre shifted, making the bed creak under him.
"Don't move," Augustine said.
Lysandre shifted again. He'd turned his face a little, changing the angle of his nose, though not enough that it would be difficult to compensate. Augustine's hand stilled.
When he'd asked his boyfriend – Lysandre hated the word, but there was no denying that was what they were – to pose for him right after waking up, he'd genuinely expected him to say no. Instead, Lysandre had batted his lashes at him, his eyelids still heavy with sleep, and nodded. The longer they'd sat together on the bed, the more his cheeks had colored, his flush spreading down until even the top of his breasts was a little pink. With his golden orange hair down and his eyes half-shut, he looked particularly alluring, especially when Augustine's gaze lingered on the marks he'd left on his pale throat and broad shoulders the night before.
"Is this making you uncomfortable?" Augustine asked. He'd begun drawing again, tracing sharp, confident lines to build up the mane of hair.
"No."
Augustine hummed. "Okay. You look uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable."
As if to further prove it, Lysandre threw his head back slightly, highlighting the hollow of his throat under the soft morning light coming in through the blinds. Augustine couldn't suppress a smile.
"I'm surprised. I thought you'd be used to being stared at." He rubbed the graphite with the pad of his forefinger, to darken the hair curling under Lysandre's jaw. "I've never seen you blush at a conference."
"It's different," Lysandre murmured. When he blinked, the light caught on the tip of his eyelashes, making them almost glimmer. "People at a conference don't look at me like I'm Arceus' gift to mankind."
The snort that came out of Augustine at that narrowly made him mess up the next line he was tracing.
"Come on, there's no way that's true!" He switched to working on the face, carving out the bold shape of Lysandre's nose. "People have eyes. We both know what you look like. Don't act like you don't take advantage of it."
He'd seen the way Lysandre would allow people's gazes to follow him, hungry for even a scrap of his attention. Even those who didn't want him in the ways Augustine did still wanted something from him, from the kind of man who radiated power, influence, and, yes, beauty. There was no shame in using that; in his field of work, so much relied on appearances. He'd complained about it often enough.
"It's different," Lysandre repeated.
Augustine resisted the temptation to keep pushing. He smeared some of the lines he'd drawn to highlight the cheekbone, recreating the flush on Lysandre's face, and began working on his beard.
"Arceus, but you are gorgeous," Augustine said, and Lysandre blinked. "You are a gift to mankind. Look at you."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm ridiculous? I think you're ridiculous when you fail to account for the number of people who go to sleep at night wishing they were using your tits as pillows." This time, Lysandre turned to give him a look. "You know I'm right."
"I take care of my body. It's the least I can do."
Oddly, he seemed almost offended by the implication, though Augustine wasn't entirely certain what the implication even was.
"I'm not saying you don't put the work into looking this hot." He finished rendering some of the hair on the beard and moved to further enhance the plumpness of the lips. "I'm just saying you look hot."
When he looked up, he swore Lysandre's ears had begun to go pink at the tips. He was clenching his jaw, the muscle visibly jumping. Augustine licked his lips, letting his eyes trail down his half-naked body.
"Your nipples are hard."
Lysandre closed his eyes. "I've changed my mind. This is making me uncomfortable."
In spite of this, he kept posing, his head still held high.
"Uncomfortably aroused, apparently." Augustine traced the lines of his neck to begin sketching his chest. "Is it the staring? Or the compliments?"
"Both." The word came out in a grunt. Lysandre's eyes remained closed.
Augustine's smile widened.
"You're beautiful. Perfect. I could never tire of your body."
He watched, his drawing momentarily forgotten, as Lysandre swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, the flush of his breasts spreading even lower.
"After we met, I couldn't stop thinking about you. You were brilliant, but your eyes were so bright, and your arms were so big. You were so big and handsome I couldn't believe you were even real. When we walked through the garden of the lab, that first afternoon when I was showing you around, your hair kept catching the rays of the sun..."
"Professor." Lysandre cleared his throat. He was, to Augustine's delight, squirming. "No need to overdo it."
Augustine laughed. He shifted his attention back to his sketchbook, to begin cross-hatching some hair over the half-sketched chest.
"You know me. I'd never overdo anything." He traced a circle for one of the nipples. "Especially not when it comes to my dazzling boyfriend."
Lysandre scoffed but did not protest, for once, which said a lot about his current state.
"If I'd known you were this weak to compliments, I would have been lavishing them on you way earlier." He darkened a spot he'd missed on the jaw before adding, "Pretty boy."
The effect of these two words was nearly instantaneous: Lysandre's eyes snapped open, dark and hazy, and he shifted again, rearranging his legs in front of him. Augustine bit down a chuckle.
"Are you done?" Though he was likely going for annoyance, Lysandre's voice came out too strained to be convincing.
"Almost. Wouldn't want to keep my pretty boy waiting."
Lysandre sighed. "I should have known this was where you were going with this."
"I had no ulterior motive." Lysandre didn't exactly roll his eyes, but his expression made it clear enough that he was inclined to. "Hey! It's not my fault you're irresistible in the morning. It's your hair, I think."
Even though Augustine had looked back down toward his drawing, he could guess that Lysandre's brow had furrowed further in confusion.
"My hair?"
"Your hair. When it's down, like this... You look different. Hotter. Too hot for a conference." He punctuated each word with a stroke of his pencil, finishing up some of the details on Lysandre's shoulders and the weight of his wavy strands. "Like we've had sex."
Lysandre's brow was indeed furrowed. He looked halfway between confused and turned on.
"We did have sex."
"Exactly." With one last flick of the wrist, Augustine swiftly traced the final line of his portrait. "Let's do it again now that I'm done drawing you."
He slid the pencil in between the spirals of the sketchbook and moved to close it, but Lysandre perked up, staring at it with curiosity.
"Can I see it?" he asked, strangely sheepish.
It was Augustine's turn to feel self-conscious. He blinked down at it twice before relenting. "Okay."
He held the sketchbook up to the right page, watching with a mix of embarrassment and interest as Lysandre took it in, his lips parting silently. He was still blushing, and when he repositioned himself, Augustine caught the way his briefs were definitely straining around him.
"Ah," Lysandre said.
"Is it not to your liking?" Augustine tried to keep his tone light-hearted but suspected he wasn't very successful.
"It's beautiful." Lysandre cleared his throat, scratching the side of his sweaty neck with his thumbnail. "I believe I'm beginning to see what you meant. About my hair."
Augustine brought the book down, slamming it shut and dropping it at the foot of the bed in one swift gesture.
"I think we should put everything we've learned today into practice. Now." He dragged himself toward Lysandre until he was more-or-less sitting on his lap, and then went on, "And you should model for me more."
"Yes," Lysandre replied, the word getting lost into Augustine's mouth as he leaned forward for a kiss. "Of course, Professor."
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: T
Summary: "I'm surprised. I thought you'd be used to being stared at."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: artist&model. Title from The Battlecry by Metric. (With bonus daily drawing!)
AO3 Link: Here.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the bedroom were those of the pencil scraping across the sketchbook page that Augustine had opened in front of him, and then Lysandre shifted, making the bed creak under him.
"Don't move," Augustine said.
Lysandre shifted again. He'd turned his face a little, changing the angle of his nose, though not enough that it would be difficult to compensate. Augustine's hand stilled.
When he'd asked his boyfriend – Lysandre hated the word, but there was no denying that was what they were – to pose for him right after waking up, he'd genuinely expected him to say no. Instead, Lysandre had batted his lashes at him, his eyelids still heavy with sleep, and nodded. The longer they'd sat together on the bed, the more his cheeks had colored, his flush spreading down until even the top of his breasts was a little pink. With his golden orange hair down and his eyes half-shut, he looked particularly alluring, especially when Augustine's gaze lingered on the marks he'd left on his pale throat and broad shoulders the night before.
"Is this making you uncomfortable?" Augustine asked. He'd begun drawing again, tracing sharp, confident lines to build up the mane of hair.
"No."
Augustine hummed. "Okay. You look uncomfortable."
"I'm not uncomfortable."
As if to further prove it, Lysandre threw his head back slightly, highlighting the hollow of his throat under the soft morning light coming in through the blinds. Augustine couldn't suppress a smile.
"I'm surprised. I thought you'd be used to being stared at." He rubbed the graphite with the pad of his forefinger, to darken the hair curling under Lysandre's jaw. "I've never seen you blush at a conference."
"It's different," Lysandre murmured. When he blinked, the light caught on the tip of his eyelashes, making them almost glimmer. "People at a conference don't look at me like I'm Arceus' gift to mankind."
The snort that came out of Augustine at that narrowly made him mess up the next line he was tracing.
"Come on, there's no way that's true!" He switched to working on the face, carving out the bold shape of Lysandre's nose. "People have eyes. We both know what you look like. Don't act like you don't take advantage of it."
He'd seen the way Lysandre would allow people's gazes to follow him, hungry for even a scrap of his attention. Even those who didn't want him in the ways Augustine did still wanted something from him, from the kind of man who radiated power, influence, and, yes, beauty. There was no shame in using that; in his field of work, so much relied on appearances. He'd complained about it often enough.
"It's different," Lysandre repeated.
Augustine resisted the temptation to keep pushing. He smeared some of the lines he'd drawn to highlight the cheekbone, recreating the flush on Lysandre's face, and began working on his beard.
"Arceus, but you are gorgeous," Augustine said, and Lysandre blinked. "You are a gift to mankind. Look at you."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm ridiculous? I think you're ridiculous when you fail to account for the number of people who go to sleep at night wishing they were using your tits as pillows." This time, Lysandre turned to give him a look. "You know I'm right."
"I take care of my body. It's the least I can do."
Oddly, he seemed almost offended by the implication, though Augustine wasn't entirely certain what the implication even was.
"I'm not saying you don't put the work into looking this hot." He finished rendering some of the hair on the beard and moved to further enhance the plumpness of the lips. "I'm just saying you look hot."
When he looked up, he swore Lysandre's ears had begun to go pink at the tips. He was clenching his jaw, the muscle visibly jumping. Augustine licked his lips, letting his eyes trail down his half-naked body.
"Your nipples are hard."
Lysandre closed his eyes. "I've changed my mind. This is making me uncomfortable."
In spite of this, he kept posing, his head still held high.
"Uncomfortably aroused, apparently." Augustine traced the lines of his neck to begin sketching his chest. "Is it the staring? Or the compliments?"
"Both." The word came out in a grunt. Lysandre's eyes remained closed.
Augustine's smile widened.
"You're beautiful. Perfect. I could never tire of your body."
He watched, his drawing momentarily forgotten, as Lysandre swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, the flush of his breasts spreading even lower.
"After we met, I couldn't stop thinking about you. You were brilliant, but your eyes were so bright, and your arms were so big. You were so big and handsome I couldn't believe you were even real. When we walked through the garden of the lab, that first afternoon when I was showing you around, your hair kept catching the rays of the sun..."
"Professor." Lysandre cleared his throat. He was, to Augustine's delight, squirming. "No need to overdo it."
Augustine laughed. He shifted his attention back to his sketchbook, to begin cross-hatching some hair over the half-sketched chest.
"You know me. I'd never overdo anything." He traced a circle for one of the nipples. "Especially not when it comes to my dazzling boyfriend."
Lysandre scoffed but did not protest, for once, which said a lot about his current state.
"If I'd known you were this weak to compliments, I would have been lavishing them on you way earlier." He darkened a spot he'd missed on the jaw before adding, "Pretty boy."
The effect of these two words was nearly instantaneous: Lysandre's eyes snapped open, dark and hazy, and he shifted again, rearranging his legs in front of him. Augustine bit down a chuckle.
"Are you done?" Though he was likely going for annoyance, Lysandre's voice came out too strained to be convincing.
"Almost. Wouldn't want to keep my pretty boy waiting."
Lysandre sighed. "I should have known this was where you were going with this."
"I had no ulterior motive." Lysandre didn't exactly roll his eyes, but his expression made it clear enough that he was inclined to. "Hey! It's not my fault you're irresistible in the morning. It's your hair, I think."
Even though Augustine had looked back down toward his drawing, he could guess that Lysandre's brow had furrowed further in confusion.
"My hair?"
"Your hair. When it's down, like this... You look different. Hotter. Too hot for a conference." He punctuated each word with a stroke of his pencil, finishing up some of the details on Lysandre's shoulders and the weight of his wavy strands. "Like we've had sex."
Lysandre's brow was indeed furrowed. He looked halfway between confused and turned on.
"We did have sex."
"Exactly." With one last flick of the wrist, Augustine swiftly traced the final line of his portrait. "Let's do it again now that I'm done drawing you."
He slid the pencil in between the spirals of the sketchbook and moved to close it, but Lysandre perked up, staring at it with curiosity.
"Can I see it?" he asked, strangely sheepish.
It was Augustine's turn to feel self-conscious. He blinked down at it twice before relenting. "Okay."
He held the sketchbook up to the right page, watching with a mix of embarrassment and interest as Lysandre took it in, his lips parting silently. He was still blushing, and when he repositioned himself, Augustine caught the way his briefs were definitely straining around him.
"Ah," Lysandre said.
"Is it not to your liking?" Augustine tried to keep his tone light-hearted but suspected he wasn't very successful.
"It's beautiful." Lysandre cleared his throat, scratching the side of his sweaty neck with his thumbnail. "I believe I'm beginning to see what you meant. About my hair."
Augustine brought the book down, slamming it shut and dropping it at the foot of the bed in one swift gesture.
"I think we should put everything we've learned today into practice. Now." He dragged himself toward Lysandre until he was more-or-less sitting on his lap, and then went on, "And you should model for me more."
"Yes," Lysandre replied, the word getting lost into Augustine's mouth as he leaned forward for a kiss. "Of course, Professor."