Featured Image is from here.
His graceful strokes on the plain canvas
painted a ear-to-ear grin on my rather blank face.
The vibrant colours coolly streaking his clothes,
got me all red - flaming hot and sweaty bothered.
Stop yourself right there, mister! Don't look back again.
Boring old art class. People complain about maths and sciences being boring and admire art. While maths is pretty terrible, terrible enough to punish me to eternity, art class has been boring this week. It wouldn't have been boring if we were taught different things, you know, things that really matter. Look outside, you Satanic Professor, literally everything is artsy. Instead of at least drawing all that, we're being taught the fucking history of what painter died when, when you could tell us what inspired them, who did they fall in love with to draw such love on canvas, what quirks did they have.
I wanted to escape this, pointless to me, reading and writing and just draw all day long. But now I am here, stuck. Stuck because I haven't drawn anything in weeks. I don't know what to draw and I feel like I cannot draw. His monotone speeches which made no sense to me made me wish I was elsewhere, somewhere between psychotic and iconic. [Yes, it's Drake]
Dear muses, aid me now.
I tried to draw on the canvas to distract myself from the soul piercing gaze of his which painted my neck, my toes, scarlet. I knew it was because all of my body was searing hot... I could feel the warmth spread like wildfire.
I was so distracted by that that I didn't realize I was actually drawing his eyes... his pretty eyebrows, eyelashes.
Wow. Such a fine specimen.
he sat behind me, clothed
but i wanted him ahead of me,
like the sun
and i, the sunflower
my eyes only on him
but he didn't know the sadness he carried in his expressive eyes, he didn't know his eyes were expressive - like poetry - pretty to look at, easy and simple at first glance yet so much of rich texture and heartbreak hidden in plain sight. Ah, such young lives, to be so sad... I shook my head vigorously. What am I doing!? He's sitting right behind me, I must stop. I must stop drawing him too. I want to draw but I cannot find the will. I quickly began sketching peonies around his eyes. Peonies... The pink and lilac peonies he took care of, with his bare arms, working under the sun. I felt myself turn hard. How can someone be so...
The bell rang jolting me out of my daydreams, all of them vanishing into the ashy smell of charcoal crayon dust, wishing my boner would disappear with it too. No way in hell could I let him see it. Unless, of course, if he wanted me to show him. But he was the type of person who didn't interact with anyone and mostly kept to himself. With that brooding badass look, all the girls swarm around him like bees. There's no way someone like him could play for the same team.
I gathered my belongings in haste and was about to walk out when someone tapped me. I turned around to face the object of my countless fantasies. I shook my head vigorously. Hallucinating much?
"Hey, you okay?" Good God, am I dead or is he really here?
He waved my phone in front of my now, I'm sure, drooling face. "You forgot this"
"Ah... I... uh... thanks"
He bent towards me and I sharply took in my breath, forgetting to breathe in the moment when he said, "too busy thinking about me, I hope?"
"Cocky much?" my palms instantly flew to shut my lips due to reflexive sassiness. Why do you spring up at all times, bitchy me? I feel like a high school girl right now. I'm a man. Must act like one too.
"So this isn't for me?" he pressed my obvious, painful hard on and I did everything to not moan then and there. I whimpered and nodded, embarrassed. "Because," he grasped my hips tight and thrusted me to him, his crotch more specifically "this is just for you". I looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes. After all, it's not everyday that your crush says he wants to fuck you too.
Voices were heard from the doorway and the next batch of talented juniors were soon going fill in the art room. William pulled me into the tiny changing room in the corner which was for models to dress up in outfits, or undress.
He shoved me into the wall and pressed all of him against him, leaving an inch in front of my zipper just enough for his hand to skillfully open it. He took my cock out and buttoned my jeans with it strained out through the opening of my zipper. He did the same to himself.
"What are you...!?" my words became caged in my throat halfway when he pushed his warm tongue into unsuspecting mouth and battled with me. Shushing me into silence which unsettled my mind. Am I being raped right now?
It's not rape if you like it, Micah. Geez, my subconscious sure is a hentai.
He grinded into me. Our cocks battling with each other like actual swords. Each touch cutting through us with pleasure. He sucked on my pierced left nipple through the beige cotton shirt I wore and I shuddered, getting close to it.
He held both my palms and encircled our shafts together to fuck my hands. I'm getting blessed for drawing him.
He was a large man but large enough to carry me on his shoulders? I gasped in fright. I didn't know if it was because he was carrying me or because my head was now partially seen from the two tiny walls that enclosed this corner into a room of sorts. I could see the students half-heartedly listening to the Satanic Professor. I could even see a bald spot at the back of his hea… OH FUCK.
I had nothing to hold but his hair while he sucked the life out of me and I lay against the wall, panting. My head rolled back as took me in deep. I was about to come but he released me and scrapped his teeth on my sensitive head. Still dazed, I looked at him through my hooded, half closed eyes to see his eyes gleaming with mischief.
He took me in, again, and this time my cock shook violently in his mouth. I closed my eyes instinctively only to open and see him swallow every bit, even licking the bit that tried to escape down his lips. Hot.
He smiled at me, my soft cock laying on his cheek, lips glistening with my cum, eyes lighting with darkness of what he wants to do to me, this silly exhibitionist threw me off guard and the picture of his goofy face burned into my mind. This is what I want to draw. I traced my fingers along his jaw, lightly getting the feel of it, knowing it so closely which I've doodled for so long. He's my canvas - strong, rough, the sails which sets my ship rocking smoothly, violently into the seas. He's my art.
He put me down, gently. The first time being gentle with me and sat down to pull me onto his lap. He carefully zipped us up and hugged me with a promise of a next time and a next time and another one.
We talked about silly, unimportant things the rest of the class, just whatever that came into our minds left our lips and sneaked into the boys washroom later to clean up.
They say all good boys go to heaven, but I wouldn't mind going to hell for him.