"You're crazy, Gerard Way, you know that? Fuckin' crazy." I chuckled. He rolled his eyes and pushed me down onto the bed.
"I don't care. I wanna do it."
"You've drawn me a thousand times before – why do we have to make a big thing out of it?" I sighed. He smiled gently, running a finger down my cheek.
"This time is special. I'm gonna sell this one, I think." He grinned proudly.
"Who'd buy my face?" I laughed. He brought my face up to his and kissed me hungrily.
"I'd buy it. I'd fuck it. I'd marry it. Your damn face is so beautiful, and someone is gonna look at this painting and fall in love with you." He growled, kissing my forehead before retreating.
"And you're okay with that?" I laughed, pressing my thighs together as he set up his easel and paints. He chuckled, shoving the end of a paintbrush between his lips.
"Yeah, I'm okay with that. They're not gonna be able to look at the real thing, are they? You're all mine, darling." He grinned. I pursed my lips.
"What do you even want me to do?" I sighed. Gerard slid his glasses onto his face and nodded.
"Okay, so if you sort of sit up on your knees, but not in a slutty way, like, in a 'I'm waiting for my dorky boyfriend to be done painting me so I can cuddle him' kind of way" he grinned.
"Right, I think I've got that." I chuckled. He nodded appreciatively.
"Right, now I want you to put one hand behind your neck like – yeah, like that. Good. Okay, now put the other hand in your waistband, like, with your thumbs in the loops. Yeah, perfect. Perfect." He sighed, looking at me adoringly. I blushed under his praise.
"Okay you dork, now what?"
"Right, so now I want you to smile for me." He said. I did, and he frowned, shaking his head.
"No, baby, don't fake it. Think about me. Think about how we made love on a roof, or about how I'm gonna marry you, and about how much I love you. Yeah, that's it. Look at me like you're in love with me." He smiled. I bit my lip and he chuckled.
"Even better. You think you can stay still for me, sweetheart?"
"For how long?" I sighed. He pursed his lips.
"Maybe...I don't know. Not long. I just have to get the outlines done, and I can probably do the details myself. I nodded and got back into position. He gave me a wide smile, and grabbed his pencil. The only thing that could be heard for a long time was the gentle scratching of his pencil against the paper, and his occasional hum of approval, or a sigh of annoyance. His eyes were narrowed, focused on the canvas in front of him. He grinned, grabbing a paintbrush – finally – and dipping it into black paint. He looked up at me and smiled a little.
"Do you want to stay like that, or do you want a break?"
"I can stay." I said. He grinned and started moving his brush in long, heavy strokes against the paper, the paint flicking out and hitting his cheeks and glasses. Despite this, though, he just kept painting, his eyes moving impossibly quickly between me and his work. He abandoned the brush with the black paint on it, his hand reaching desperately for another one and slathering red paint onto it, before stroking it along the paper. His breath was coming hard and heavy, his lips parted and dry as his eyes flicked up to mine. The way it looked, this was just going to be a red and black mess. I knew Gerard, though. It'd be perfect.
"Moan for me." He whispered suddenly, his voice hoarse.
"What?" I laughed. He looked up at me, his eyes serious.
