6. React

Quill lingered, trying and failing to ignore the art on the walls. It was intense, vibrant, and filled with raw passion that made something inside him want to recoil and inch closer all at once. 

Lilly leaned against the wall, studying him. He was trying hard to pretend the art on the walls wasn't getting to him.

"It's okay to look, or even… react."

Quill looked over at her. He was starting to feel unexpectedly exposed. 

He shifted uncomfortably. "Honestly? I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react."

Lilly sighed and walked over to him. "Supposed to react? Who decides that? You're free to feel whatever you feel." 

Quill relaxed slightly. Her presence made it easier. She took another small step, brushing against his arm, and he caught her looking at him curiously.

 "Girls?"

He nodded. It is simple, straightforward, and somehow easy to answer in this setting. "Yes."

She kept her focus on him. "Boys?"

The hesitation was there, but he nodded as he looked away. 

She smiled at that. "Trans?"

He shrugged, the honest uncertainty giving way to a new feeling. "Not sure. I don't think I've ever met someone who is." The answer felt insufficient, but Lilly seemed satisfied.

She trailed her fingers up his arm and across his shoulder. "And what turns you on?"

The relaxed openness in her drew him in like a flame. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his attention to the vivid images on the walls again. 

"I don't think I know," he admitted finally.

"Maybe that's the answer," she replied. "Maybe it's just something that evolves."

Something about her made him want to keep talking about this. It was hard to explain, to give shape to what he'd only ever felt privately. She made it sound so easy.

"Intimacy isn't something we talk about around here…" he began, then stopped and chuckled. The concept seemed so hollow when he tried to put words to it. "I guess I just want to feel something real."

Her fingers lingered near his collar, making his thoughts drift. She was so close to his neck. So close to where...

Everything in this space made it feel much more charged. He groaned as he felt something primal stir deep inside.

Something he rarely felt. He leaned down until he was inches from her lips.

Her response was fast. She leaned into his broad chest and kissed him back. 

When they pulled away, Quill couldn't help but laugh. "Not exactly the reaction I thought you had in mind when you said I could 'react.'"

Her eyes danced. "Why not? We connect, don't we?"

Quill grinned. "I'd like to think so."

He felt the discomfort and hesitation easing as he looked around at the art. He roamed over each bold stroke and shadowed image with newfound curiosity. Curiosity about the artists as well as the figures they expressed through each stroke. 

They moved from one piece to the next. He paused before an abstract painting of two shadowed masculine figures entwined, painted in deep shades of blue and gold that felt hauntingly familiar. The strokes were intense and raw, capturing a moment of connection that felt undeniably honest, even in the abstract lines and strokes.

"See? It's easier when you let yourself feel it," she murmured.

He just grinned as he looked at another painting. 

After another pause, she turned to him. "Ever thought about adding your own work to the gallery?"

"Mine? I don't have much that would fit here. Mine stuff is mostly line art and half-finished."

She watched him closely. "You'd be surprised what might belong here. If you felt like sharing it."

He had sketches, pieces he'd kept in the shadows of his mind, shapes and images that seemed too personal, too pointed, to ever reveal. 

Some pieces fit, but they weren't what he'd call safe or easy. They were too close, too vivid. 

They resembled Hawk.

He hadn't thought of it consciously before, hadn't let himself think that way, but it was there, all the same. The shapes, colors, and intensity trace back to Hawk. 

He wondered if he could do it.

"Maybe…" he replied.

Quill glanced back at Lilly, and noticed the look in her eyes. Damn if she couldn't see right through him. "I've got a few pieces," he admitted. "Some… personal stuff. Not the kind of art I'd want people lining up to get tattooed on them." He smirked, a little sheepishly. "But I keep it upstairs."

"Oh? Why hide it in your apartment and not the studio?" 

Quill's cheeks flushed. He shrugged and tried to play it off. "They're just not for everyone. Not exactly the kind of work you hang out for clients to see."

She moved in close with a grin. "Now you've got me curious." Her fingers brushed his bare arm as she leaned in. "I'd love to see them."

"Alright then," he said as he led her to the hallway. As they made their way to the stairs, her hand drifted to his arm again, staying there as they walked, close enough that their bodies brushed now and then.

They reached the second floor, and Quill glanced down the hallway at Hawk's door. He knew it was reckless. Hawk had a way of knowing everything that happened around here. Hawk probably already knew he was going there with Lilly.

Inside his apartment, Quill pulled out an old portfolio case and sat it on a low table. He took a breath as the hesitance came back. "Okay, don't judge too hard," he warned. "It's not exactly 'showroom ready.'"

She leaned over to get a look. He pulled the first page from the case. It was a rough but vibrant line sketch of a strong figure standing alone.

Lilly's gaze softened. "Wow," she murmured. "This is… intense."

Quill nodded, pulling another piece. It was the same figure but now crouched. The figure's muscles were more defined. With every sketch he'd tried to capture something different about Hawk.

"Is it…" she trailed off as she glanced at him. "It's him, isn't it?"

Quill groaned as he looked away, but he still nodded. There was no reason to deny it. "Yeah," he admitted.

She studied them as he watched her. There was one more, but he wasn't sure about showing it to her. 

Not yet.

I think they'd be perfect for the opening," she whispered as she handed the images back. "They capture desire."

Their hands brushed, and he stilled, feeling that primal pull stir deep inside.

He took the sketches, then leaned closer to her. "Speaking of desire…"

It was all a cover. He knew that. He was always burying feelings he didn't dare address. Feelings about Hawk, feelings evident in every detail he'd poured into perfecting Hawk's body in those sketches. 

She knew it, too.

But right now, did it really matter?