AH collections

the sugar baby escapades (17)

OT6
Word count: 17704
Chapters: 18

"Hey, Geoff, could I—"

"As long as I get to lie down in bed, I'm all yours."

Geoff is easy on the days after a heist. He's loose. He's relaxed. He's self-indulgent to a large degree. He'll let anyone do anything to him so long as he gets to lounge around in bed and eat whatever he wants without getting told not to. ("Geoff, I get that potato chips are delicious, but don't eat a full bag in one sitting. Oh my god.") So when Jeremy comes up and asks him if he can do something, something he's only done with Gavin twice and Ryan once after convincing him to let him, Geoff is all too easy to persuade.

Burdened with his paint and brushes, Jeremy heads into the room Geoff shares with Jack. The bed is low the ground, the thick blankets pull back and pooled at the ground. He has towels to lay down and sneak under Geoff as he lies there on his stomach. Jack is slightly propped up against the headboard. She's reading, has left out her contacts and is wearing glasses instead. He likes them on her. Round, wire frames. It suits her face quite well.

"What are you getting up to?" she asks without looking up from the page.

"Nothin'," Jeremy says, shoving a towel none too gently under Geoff's stomach and hips. He's wearing loose clothing that will be easy to push aside if need be. Probably. Definitely.

"You have paint," she says flatly.

"Yep."

"Art project?"

He shrugs, shaking the paint and then laying out a palette where he can pour some out and dip his brushes into. "Personal hobby."

"Things you're adding to your spank bank?" Geoff mutters.

"I'm not going to rule that one out."

Geoff snorts and Jack rolls her eyes, but it's with fondness.

He starts by pushing up Geoff's shirt. Geoff wiggles a bit on the bed to make it easier to shift his clothing around. It exposes the pale and freckled skin of Geoff's back, going soft with age but no less enjoyable. Gathered around his hips and creeping up his lower back are the soft, silver lines of stretchmarks. They come in all sorts of rangers, but follow the same lightning bolt pattern. Thick, thin, long and short they create an interesting network along the parts of Geoff's body that would've stretched and grown over time. So different from physical scars. The red, raised lines that can fade to white with enough time. They have a tougher texture than these. These, he can hardly feel.

Jeremy dips his paintbrush into the azure blue and gathers just a bit on the thin tip. Without preamble he begins to trace the stretch marks, earning a hiss from Geoff because paint is cold and there's really nothing Jeremy could do about that part.

"I am not a canvas," Geoff mutters into the bed covers.

"You're not," Jeremy agrees. "You're something even better."

Painting skin is something else. It's intimate in a way, more intimate than painting a nude figure. A feeling he can share with his lovers that he can't with anyone else. Strip away the clothing and Jeremy will show his affection in the most vivid way possible—through art and colour.

He treats it like a collage. When he's done with the azure, he moves on with a sacramento green. He sees Geoff in cool colours. The blues and purples of the world. Ever the level headed leader of their group, always there when one of them need him. Full of advice and wisdom, he's the ice, the water to calm and tame their fury.

The paint highlights the extent of the stretchmarks, how they branch out and cover Geoff's skin. The patchwork of paint stands out starkly in contrast to the pale skin at Geoff's waist.

Geoff makes few comments about what Jeremy is doing. In fact, he seems peaceful like this. Completely and totally pliant.

Jeremy moves off of him, stretching from his previous hunched position. He's resting back against his hands planted on the bed when he looks to Jack. She looks up from her book, looks to the colours on Geoff's skin.

"What?" she asks. "Oh. You want to do me?"

"Well, I was kinda hoping for it."

She looks to the decorations on Geoff's skin and folds the corner of the book page she's on.

Jeremy moves. He cleans the brush off and gets out a few more paint colours. Reds and oranges, pinks and yellows. Warm colours. Hot colours.

Jack is on her back for this. She lifts her shirt up to expose her mid-rift. Her stretchmarks are more prominent than Geoff's. They're largely gathered on her stomach, from the weight she's gained and lost over the years. The thin pair of cotton shorts she's wearing exposes more on her thighs when she shifts further down on the bed. But for today, Jeremy will focus on just her stomach, treat her the way she should always be treated. The way she deserves to be.

He creates something like a sunset on her skin, mixing the warm colours into a mirage. The crimson reds at the bottom, the tiger oranges above, followed by the pineapple yellow. Intermixed within it all is the soft amaranth pink. He wishes he could go further, down along her hips and between her thighs, but that would lead to something he tried with Gavin once and subsequently regretted ever since. Today's just a day for art and appreciating the two people who took him in when he had nothing and gave him everything.

"You ever tried using paint as lube before?" Geoff asks, breaking Jeremy's concentration and admiration of the scene on Jack's stomach.

"Why do you ask, Geoff?"

Geoff folds his arms under his head. "Ever consider lubing yourself up with paint and having sex on a canvas? Could be like a performative piece."

"Geoff, that's not what paint should be used for."

"You didn't say no."