For His Happiness

The Luckiest Son of a b*tch (LEMON)

It was already black outside by the time Kiku woke up. The time in his phone said 8:50 pm, and he looked around the studio, observing and searching for any signs of movement. Most of the stuff was left where they where last- the book, the linen, the eagle, the first painting- everything was in place. His eyes drifted to the figure in front of the easel; Alfred F. Jones had his suspenders and three buttons were undone. His head was thrown back against his chair, his paintbrush dangling between his fingers, and his palette sat there beside his foot. Kiku moved to his side and took a peak of his last painting.

As expected, it was wonderful. Detailed and blurred. Light and dark. He knew it was him in that gentle glow, and yet it felt like a different person. He found himself covering his mouth, so he could only whisper compliments while not disturbing him (yet). He stared back at his counterfeit like a sepia photograph, then to the artist, whose slightly parted lips and tired eyebrows showed his devotion to this masterpiece. He smiled at him lovingly, lifting his hand to pat his head before looking back at the painting.

A few minutes later, Alfred woke up at the touch of lips on the corner of his mouth and the light grazings of the fingers on his jaw. He turned and saw that beautiful muse from his painting.

"Good morning, my love..." he said under his breath, earning him a soft laugh from the latter.

"Good evening, Alfred-san..." Kiku adjusted the linen around his body. "It's already nine o' clock. I think we should call it a night, eh?"

Alfred looked at the window and noticed how the sky was already pitch black. "Oh shit, I didn't even clean up earlier."

"We can do it now. There's no need to rush."

"Right... tell you what, you can go dress up and have some coffee or soda downstairs while I clean up this mess and meet you later."

"Don't you want any help with the paint? The turpentine, maybe?"

"Nah, it's alright," Alfred got up and stretched. "I can take care of it, paints are a mess to clean up so..."

"Then I'll put away the eagle and the linen then."

Alfred was about to object but the sight of Kiku shrugging the fabric away from his body, revealing his nakedness while facing away from him left him... speechless... those subtle curves and the plumpness of his flesh were too tempting. What would it feel like to grab him right there? Grab him by the waist and grind his painfully hard member against his buttocks? What would his nipples feel like if he pinched them? Licked them? Sucked them? Would he hold back a moan? Would he groan if he pulled away? Would he pull his hair to urge him to fuck him senselessly? What would it feel like if he was in him? Would he fit in? If he started rocking them back and forth, would he respond with the same rhythm? If the neighbors could hear them, would he cover his mouth or cover his face? What would he sound like if he called his name? Begging him to move faster? Violating him until he could no longer talk or think? What would-

"Alfred-san?" Kiku called.

"Uh... yeah?" Alfred tried to hide his blush in the shadows.

"Where do I put this?" he held up the linen.

"In the closet, along with the bird."

While he did so, Alfred scrapped the paint form the palette before cleaning it up. Then washed the brushes, put away the turpentine and linseed in another cabinet, placed the easel in the corner, and set the painting on the side with the first one. Throughout these activities, the lewd thoughts he had in mind earlier seemed to slip away. Little did he know that he was going to get what he was asking for.

* * *

They just finished their coffee downstairs and now they were heading up, again.

"Alfred-san, if it isn't too much trouble, can I take a bath?" Kiku asked shyly, following him after in the stairs.