Draw me like one of your French girls

It all started with a witty remark from King, but they both took it seriously. 

Kane was holding a paintbrush, mixing colors to get the desired outcome. He looked so serene, so focused, and though he wasn’t smiling, he seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. 

On the other hand, King was biting the side of his mouth to hide his self-consciousness. Although he was a known cold and ruthless Cabecilla, he was never branded a Casanova despite his ethereal look for a certain reason. 

He never dated girls, never laid his hands on any woman, and always distanced himself, doing his best not to fall or give any importance to his romantic life—including his sex life. 

He was a virgin in this matter, so he was a bit confused about how to respond to Kane. He wasn’t even sure what Kane’s actions were indicating. 

But there he was, reluctantly removing his shirt, then his pants. The last thing at his disposal—his boxers. He looked in Kane’s direction, but the latter was busy mixing colors. 

His whole nakedness was on full display, and he knew for a fact that his cheeks were burning. 

All of a sudden, he wanted to put all his clothes back on because he wasn’t sure if he could be confident enough or even last that long. King knew how long a painting session could take, so he was really reluctant. 

He bit his lips while glancing at Kane, who was still occupied with preparing his base. 

King was taken aback when Kane shifted his gaze to him. Their eyes met, and he saw desire flash across Kane’s face as he hovered his eyes from his face down to his body, finally landing on his thing down there. 

His thoughts were abruptly cut off, turning blank when he saw a sly smile dancing on Kane’s lips. 

Meanwhile, Kane’s heart was racing, feeling as if it would pop out of his chest. 

Just like King, he was also in a daze. 

Right before his eyes was a dreamy-looking man laid bare. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, and his whole being screamed at him. 

It was dangerous. 

Too dangerous… 

He should be loathing him, and his anger had not yet subsided despite his curiosity about what King might be hiding. 

But he couldn’t deny the fact that seeing King in front of him, obviously flushed, made him forget everything in his mind. All he was left with was lust. Kane tried to hide it by smirking, but his stomach was growling. He took the brush again. “Let’s start, shall we?” 

From where Kane was seated, he saw how King gulped and bit his lower lip. That gesture made his crotch stir. Wanting to tone it down, he cleared his throat. 

King was obviously shy, and it was turning him on even more. 

“I, I ahm… How do I pose?” King asked, lying on the bed awkwardly. 

Kane did his best not to laugh when King tried to pose like Rose from the movie 'Titanic.' 

Shaking his head profusely, he was actually amused. He went to him and kneeled in front of him on the sofa. 

He held King’s arms, positioning them correctly. Every touch was electrifying, and the feel of King’s skin rubbing against him was making him lose his sanity. 

'Fuck it.'

King’s skin was white and fair despite the bruises. It looked delicate—more so than most women—but he had a strong and steady build. Kane’s eyes lingered all over his body, making King shiver in his place. 

King let Kane touch him. He didn’t interrupt, even though he was touching him everywhere under the pretense of helping him get into the right pose. 

From his hands, to his shoulders, to his waist—even down to his buttocks. 

When Kane was done and satisfied, he leaned in closer to King’s lips, and what happened next made King gasp. 

Kane closed the gap and licked his nape, sending goosebumps all over his body. 

Despite being uncomfortable, King still didn’t budge. He was willing to do anything to mend Kane’s anger toward him, even though he knew too well that not much would change. 

He just didn’t care anymore. He was fine, and he would be fine no matter what Kane did to him. He had even accepted the fact that Kane could be the death of him. He had already come to terms with it. 

Kane pulled away after that. He tried his best to stop himself from ravaging King’s lips after kissing his nape. 

He sat down and focused on the canvas. Every stroke was careful, and every glance he threw at the man lying before him was full of lust. 

The sound of his chair scraping and the subtle sound of his uneven breathing filled the room. Painting should have been relaxing, but contrary to that, it was exhilarating. 

After hours of detailing his work and bringing it to life, he chuckled lightly. “You’re a perfect subject,” he whispered. 

Even just looking at the painting itself made him grip the hem of his shirt, trying to calm himself down. 

Kane looked back at his subject. King’s head started to nod forward, and his body slowly released the tension he had been holding from staying in a certain position for hours. 

His body finally succumbed to serenity, and Kane couldn’t help but form a soft smile. 

His subject had fallen asleep. 

He was lying naked on the sofa, and Kane was having dirty thoughts. 

He walked toward King, standing there for a minute before leaning in and finally claiming King’s lips. 

They were soft… And though he wanted to kiss him rougher, he stopped himself, looking at King’s face. 

'You didn’t even wake up after that, huh?'

He leaned forward again, and this time, he did what he came for. He deepened the kiss with the unconscious man in front of him. 

It was hard and rough, making King wake up aroused and moaning. 

King slowly opened his eyes, his amber gaze meeting Kane’s. And even though King was evidently half-awake, Kane still pushed forward. 

He held King’s chin, his kisses trailing from his lips down to his chest, his abdomen, and finally his groin. 

King’s groin was throbbing, and his manhood stood proud. 

When Kane saw that, he was filled with arousal. He wanted to play with King… He wanted to own him. 

Not just the painting, but the subject himself. “You’re mine, King Kairos Marchetti.” 

'All mine,' he thought, finally touching him. His hands wrapped around King’s manhood, and he was stupefied by how warm it felt between his fingers.