Paint Me Like One Of Your French Men

Painting Twenty-Eight

A/N: Warning, this contains nsfw content? I mean, technically it's a bit nsfw. Idfk. Read at yer own risk ya dudes.

Vincent Phantomhive cannot sleep with his clothes on. How many times had Adrian witnessed this fact in the span of the time he knew Vincent? But, right now, he was starting to wonder if that was true. Vincent was lying in the same bed as him. Adrian had hugged him in his sleep and was terrified of ending the embrace. Why? Because Vincent was fully clothed but still snoring away as if he was asleep. If he made one move that was the wrong one, Adrian feared this 'sleep' of Vincent's might turn out to be quite light and he would have the unfortunate situation of trying to explain why he was in Vincent's bed. 

This was a battle of endurance. Either Adrian had to pretend to sleep longer than Vincent, or Vincent would have to wake up and prove to Adrian that he had been sleeping. Adrian just didn't know if he could trust that Vincent was sleeping at all. What if he'd spent the whole night in a sleep-like state? Why else would he be in clothes unless he knew Adrian was in the bed? Vincent wasn't the type to sleep with clothes on. Adrian was starting wish that he had the memory gap, then this decision would be much easier to make. 

Vincent had to be messing with him. Or, was this some sort of test? Adrian's head wasn't thinking straight. This plan of his had backfired. He'd wanted to wait up for Vincent and then jump on him. Now he was stuck hugging him out of habit without knowing the true nature of the bomb. 

If he stripped Vincent carefully, without Vincent waking up, and Vincent went into a deep sleep, would Adrian be able to make his escape? Or would he fail and the bomb would explode? 

So many choices, not enough time. 

Wait, Adrian couldn't strip him if he was still hugging him. What kind of stupid idea was that? Damnit. Adrian closed his eyes. Guess it was time to pretend to sleep and see how long he could last. His head was rested against Vincent's heart. He listened to the repeated beats and tried to drift off into a light sleep. But, the heartbeat was drowned out by the smell of Vincent. He found it harder and harder to focus on the noise. 

Vincent, this was Vincent Phantomhive alright. His smell. This closeness. Adrian hadn't expected to experience it again. No. Bad Adrian. This isn't the time to think about this. If you think about this you'll end up thinking about that and also that and a whole bunch of other things and then...

Fuck.

Adrian subconsciously got closer to Vincent. As close as humanly possible. Every part of his body that could wrap around Vincent did wrap around Vincent and completely without him understanding what he was doing. He noticed too little too late, when his dick was already hard and his dignity already lost. This would've been much more interesting if Vincent had slept without his clothes on. He hated himself for thinking that. 

His mind still in the gutter, his brain still reacting to things his memory and fantasies concocted. His mouth watering against his wishes.  If he drooled it would ruin Vincent's clothes. But, he couldn't stop it. He couldn't fall asleep either, but he could sure as hell pretend he could. His life depended on it now. 

Vincent Phantomhive cannot sleep with his clothes on. He didn't know the reasons for this, it just was the way it was. He'd tried many a time to break this habit, but it just wasn't meant to be. So, he was fully awake the entire night. Not once did he drift off. He could tell you the exact time Adrian first made his move on him. He could tell you the exact moment that he ceased being a human and ended up a body pillow. 

This was a mistake. The thought had crossed his mind. But, he had no idea it would get this interesting. So, Adrian was the type to produce an abundant amount of saliva when he was turned on? Nifty. Vincent didn't know for what purposes this information would be useful but decided to continue calling this whole event a matter of 'research.' It was the only way he could make sense of the completely nonsensical decision he'd made the night before. 

How far was Adrian going to go?

Vincent sought the answer to that question. He could feel Adrian's cock up against him. What morals did this street beggar have? Would he jack off with a person 'sleeping' right beside him? At what point would Adrian feel he had 'crossed the line'? Perhaps Adrian already knew Vincent was awake. He found this unlikely, but it was a possibility. Everything was a possibility. 

Adrian's breathing increased, as did his heartbeat, two things that weren't that strange considering the circumstances. Adrian wished he could control it, but it was out of his hands now. He thought about what Vincent would've done in the past. His brain fantasized away. Vincent's arms would wrap around him, they'd pull him closer, they'd squeeze his ass while one traveled up his spine and the other clutched his cock. Vincent would pretend to sleep while being awake. He would 'assist' the silver-haired man whilst unaware of the damage done in Adrian's own mind. 

Adrian was unaware that the thoughts he was imagining were actually taking place. Vincent was surprised with himself. He'd started out wondering how far Adrian would go and then the question changed along the way. How far would Adrian allow him to go before guilt took over and the man fled? There was a disconnect. Vincent wondered why Adrian hadn't reacted at all. Did he really think this was normal behavior? Perhaps the beggar didn't have morals to begin with. Vincent had no idea that he was acting in sync with the Vincent of Adrian's fantasy. If he had, he might've been a bit proud...or concerned. Proud that he could read Adrian so well. Concerned that Adrian could predict him so well. 

With a quiet moan, Vincent could feel Adrian's semen on his hand. There was a gasp. Adrian realized now that he hadn't been dreaming, not fully, and intended to return the favor. All restraint was gone. He got up and sat on Vincent, beginning to strip him. 

No morals at all, Vincent confirmed. Vincent couldn't wake up, that would be like losing. So, he would have to do something completely unfair and totally bastard-like if he wanted Adrian to stop. Vincent wasn't joking when he said he wouldn't have sex with Adrian unless the man seduced him or spoke to him. If he was sleeping, Vincent wasn't being seduced, was he? Adrian certainly hadn't said a word either. 

Vincent felt the draft caused by his torso fully exposed. His scars, he'd been meaning to hide them but a part of him knew Adrian had already seen them long ago. He didn't feel the anxiety brought about by someone noticing them for the first time. That had to mean Adrian had already seen them. Well, by his logic anyway. 

It was time to begin acting. Vincent reacted to every action Adrian did. He leaned into Adrian's touch and made soft noises in response to certain movements. He waited till the perfect moment when Adrian was likely thinking he might get away with all of this, and then he dropped his biggest bastard move of them all... 

"Diedrich..." Vincent quietly moaned. If there was anything nearly every individual hated, it was being mistaken for another at such an intimate scene. All doubt in Adrian's mind that Vincent was sleeping was erased. He had done nothing more than facilitate Vincent's own dirty mind. That was his line of thought at the moment. 

Vincent was right in thinking Adrian hated that. He did. Adrian was disgusted with himself for thinking there was hope in this odd situation. He felt stupid. Incredibly stupid. Why did he think Vincent might be reacting to him? It was obvious that the person most important to Vincent before Adrian was Diedrich. If you take out Adrian, all emotions should point back to Diedrich. He was an idiot, the biggest idiot out there. 

Adrian stole a sheet from the extras in one of the dressers. He wrapped himself in it and left the room. He went into another room, whichever one was the furthest from that one, curled up into a ball on the bed and cried. There wasn't a better way to get rid of the disgust he felt, besides crying. 

Vincent heard the footsteps leave. He stripped out of his clothing and curled up beneath the sheets. There was a pinch of guilt, just a smidgen, for the most part, he didn't care. All he cared about was that he could finally drift off into sleep. He was confident that Adrian learned his lesson, and wouldn't try something as silly as sleeping in his bed again. Even if he was confident in that...he felt a bit lonely too. For whatever reason, his loneliness outweighed his guilt and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.