Drabble: Underneath
Apr. 10th, 2012 01:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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camelot_drabbleAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alby_mangroves
Title: Underneath
Rating: R
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin and Arthur
Words: 237
Warnings: None
Prompt: Skin
Artist’s Notes: Drabble accompanies drawble: Arthur.
Merlin sharpens the tip of the conté into a point, then fusses with his toolbox to stop his hands from shaking.
It’s him again, the same model as last week, the one who came over to see everyone’s work after class as they were packing up.
Merlin had lingered, his eyes full of skin peppered with tiny freckles across the shoulders, and delicious dimples accenting a shapely rump. Then, he’d rushed home to draw and wank himself silly.
Last week, the pose was a reclining one. This one though, this one might kill him.
The model—the lecturer calls him Arthur—stretches his arms above his head and suddenly it’s not just beautiful skin Merlin can see, it’s the power of his muscle and the strength of his bone.
Immediately alive and in his element, Merlin sets the conté to paper, intent on finding the magic underneath the model’s skin- that secret appeal, the indefinable something that makes this particular man so magnetic.
When he looks up, the model’s blue eyes are smiling at him from beneath a quirked brow.
Ah, Merlin thinks, a challenge.
His hand steadies.
This, he knows. This, he understands.
Breathing deeply, he reaches into the pocket of his heart where inspiration lives, and draws the model’s beauty from within himself.
Later, he’ll linger once more and show Arthur his drawing, proud of what he has achieved, and excited at what he’s about to attempt.
alby_mangrovesTitle: Underneath
Rating: R
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin and Arthur
Words: 237
Warnings: None
Prompt: Skin
Artist’s Notes: Drabble accompanies drawble: Arthur.
Merlin sharpens the tip of the conté into a point, then fusses with his toolbox to stop his hands from shaking.
It’s him again, the same model as last week, the one who came over to see everyone’s work after class as they were packing up.
Merlin had lingered, his eyes full of skin peppered with tiny freckles across the shoulders, and delicious dimples accenting a shapely rump. Then, he’d rushed home to draw and wank himself silly.
Last week, the pose was a reclining one. This one though, this one might kill him.
The model—the lecturer calls him Arthur—stretches his arms above his head and suddenly it’s not just beautiful skin Merlin can see, it’s the power of his muscle and the strength of his bone.
Immediately alive and in his element, Merlin sets the conté to paper, intent on finding the magic underneath the model’s skin- that secret appeal, the indefinable something that makes this particular man so magnetic.
When he looks up, the model’s blue eyes are smiling at him from beneath a quirked brow.
Ah, Merlin thinks, a challenge.
His hand steadies.
This, he knows. This, he understands.
Breathing deeply, he reaches into the pocket of his heart where inspiration lives, and draws the model’s beauty from within himself.
Later, he’ll linger once more and show Arthur his drawing, proud of what he has achieved, and excited at what he’s about to attempt.
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