Paint Me Like One Of Your French Men

Painting Twenty-Three

"Pet #1 and Pet #2, come with me," Vincent gestured. The two stood up and did so. Well, that was easy. Why did they do as he said so easily? Was it really just because he'd taken them home? That can't be how humans work, right? He pushed the thought aside and had them follow him. His bedroom was his studio. That's just how it was. They'd been here long enough. He had to make them useful. Adrian could cook, somewhat. Victor, on the other hand, had zero skills.

"Sit," he pointed at the chairs before the two canvases. They sat. "Paint," he ordered. They looked at him, a bit confused, but picked up brushes. His orders weren't specific, that was on purpose. He wanted to see what their skill level was. The more paintings he had, the more he could sell, the more he could sell, the more money he had for their living expenses. This was the best he could think of.

"Like this," Vincent grabbed Adrian's hand and guided his paintbrush. His hand lingered on Adrian's before he finally removed it. He looked at his hand as if it had something on it, like a memory no longer attainable.

He continued to instruct the two on the ways of painting until their paintings were completed. Victor had painted a pair of ice skates. Adrian had painted a mysterious figure wearing a striped vest. Vincent sighed. This wasn't going to work. It was a stupid idea. Maybe with a few touch-ups, he could put them on his website. He sighed again.

"I'm doomed to a life of poverty," Vincent muttered under his breath. "I should accept it."

"V-Vincent?" Victor looked up at him with a twinge of fear. "Are we a burden?"

Vincent wasn't surprised at the question but the use of the word 'we.' Had the two gotten close? "Yes," Vincent replied. "Naturally," he patted Victor's head, "but one of my favorite ones. Life doesn't come without burdens." The words escaped his lips before he realized what he was saying. He'd touched Victor's head without a second thought. Vincent once again stared at his hand as if he was missing a major part of his personality. His hand didn't feel like his own. His heart was too bitter for actions like these. It was as if he'd fallen in love with someone and changed but never remembered changing.

"Are you okay?" Victor asked. Vincent didn't bother answering he just pointed to the door. Victor took the hint and left. Adrian followed but paused at the door. He looked at Vincent and couldn't help feeling sad.

"You know something, don't you?" Vincent turned to look at Adrian. "Something you're afraid to say..."

Adrian's hand shook over the doorknob so he placed it by his side. He clenched his hand into a fist and then relaxed it. He grabbed the notepad in his pocket and wrote with the pen in his other pocket. 'All I know is that you seem to want to forget something, but ended up forgetting the wrong thing.'

"Who are you?"

'Someone who cares about you,' Adrian wrote. He left, or attempted to leave, but Vincent had a knack for appearing behind someone. He hugged Adrian but calling it a hug was too simple. It was more of a snake curling around its prey.

Vincent kicked Adrian in the back of the knee causing him to stagger and kneel. The two were no longer in an embrace but a power struggle. Vincent pushed Adrian's head back so the two could make eye contact. He closed the door. "If you ever want to upgrade from being a pet, you shouldn't keep secrets from your owner." There it was, that face that slightly terrified Adrian but slightly aroused him. He wanted to tell Vincent all about their relationship but he didn't know where to begin or end or even how he'd react.

"I don't care about the past, I'm sure it will come back eventually," Vincent knelt down and pulled Adrian's hair so that the man would fall into him. He grabbed Adrian's chin and tilted his head to whisper into his ear. "You reek of sex."

Adrian shivered. Vincent wouldn't be wrong in assuming that Adrian had thought about nothing except: #1 the next time the two would fuck and #2 if Vincent's memory would return. 

"You weren't born mute, were you? It's psychosomatic, isn't it?" Adrian nodded to the question. "Do you want to fuck me?" Vincent asked. Adrian nodded again. He couldn't help being honest. Lying wasn't going to work on a man such as Vincent Phantomhive, (even if the question did come out of thin air). 

"Well, you can't," Vincent put distance between them. He stood, perfectly nonchalant, "not until you can beg for it, verbally," Vincent put a finger to Adrian's lips, "or until I remember all about who you are. Understand?" Adrian nodded. Vincent was trying to give him an initiative. It motivated him, but would it be fruitful?  

"Or," Vincent began, about to provide a third scenario, he stood in front of Adrian and placed a foot on his crotch. "maybe if you can seduce me, that is, if you can do it in a way that I can't do better." Vincent then opened the door and allowed Adrian to leave. Bewildered and slightly turned on, Adrian walked out and back to Victor. The male was frantic with worry asking dozens of questions about if he'd gotten Adrian in trouble. Adrian didn't respond. He just started plotting.