Title: Capture This
Author: an-alternate-world
Rating: M+
Characters/Pairing: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Word Count: 6,483
Summary: With so few roles on offer in Hollywood, Brittany had managed to book a magazine spread for him. He'd needed some fresh photos anyway, but he hadn't expected the photographer to be so attractive.
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy or anything else related to the FOX universe.
Based (loosely) on the following prompt from OTPprompts on Tumblr: Person B decides to pursue a career in modeling, but is insecure and intimidated by the other, more experienced models. Person B's first job is for Person A, and involves a solo nude session. Bonus points if Person A notices how nervous Person B is, and once the project is finished, decides that the work is too personal to share, even if A intended on displaying it initially.
He wasn't entirely certain about this. It was Cooper's idea, after all, and anything that came out of Cooper's mouth was something to be treated with varying degrees of doubt and contempt but he knew he needed to have new headshots taken. He needed fresh headshots for a fresh town. Anything he had done in New York was too Broadway, too theatrical, too posed, too black-and-white and screamed old-town glamour that conflicted with the fresh-faced enthusiasm he needed to have in LA.
He was forced to admit that the glitz of LA was nothing like he'd expected. He'd visited Cooper plenty of times but he'd never truly accounted for the difference in being a tourist compared to 'another wannabe' in LA. Living there had revealed the polluted cesspool of people willing to do anything – literally anything – to get a toe in front of someone else to be cast. It had been bad in New York but it was nothing compared to Los Angeles. The grime of the city air was barely noticed any more, replaced instead by side-eyeing everyone he met at casting calls.
There were some benefits to relocating to LA. In New York, his limited engagements on Broadway were enough for the special fan to recognise him and create a mild buzz of hysteria wherever he went. In LA, he lacked the clamouring fans with old photos and playbills that screeched his name and waved Sharpies in front of his face. Occasionally he'd be recognised but it was rare and made strolling through Santa Monica or along Rodeo Drive much easier when he could put on a pair of sunglasses and pretend to be a famous person instead of someone desperately seeking a job. He wasn't willing to sell himself out like some people.
One of the hardest adjustments had been accepting a new LA-based agent/manager/publicity team. His girls worked in conjunction with his New York team of Jeff, Nick and Trent, but Tina, Sugar and Brittany were…eccentric on a good day and frightening on a bad day. He'd quickly realised that changing from an all-male team to an all-female team had its complications, because they could never decide on the appropriate thing to wear. Sugar always wanted something ultra-colourful with a touch of faux feather or fur while Brittany preferred insane patterns and so many layers he thought he may as well just wear his entire wardrobe. Tina cooed over whatever he was wearing and constantly made comments that sounded like she was hitting on him, despite knowing he was gay. With his New York background, Blaine preferred more classic elegance of a bow tie and cardigan, which was apparently not even close to fashion-forward in a place like LA where your every move could be caught on camera.
The desire for attention was, perhaps, the most challenging aspect of fame. You craved the admiration of others who respected your talent, the acclamation that yes, you were actually something special while simultaneously fearing the attention that would proliferate afterwards. The notoriety was terrifying and the invasion of privacy was nauseating and-
And still Blaine sought something that Cooper had repeatedly warned him against, except Blaine hadn't been dissuaded because performing was something that came as naturally to him as breathing.
The lull between auditions for pilot season had started to become boring and lonesome. The old habits of performing eight nights a week in front of a live audience made the desolate trudging from one packed hallway to another with a series of outdated photos an unrewarding burden.
With some help from Nick and Trent, Tina and Brittany had secured a shoot for a magazine spread. It was a chance to model some new fashions and get his face out there. He could only hope it might intrigue a casting director enough to search further. At this point, he'd be an extra. After Cooper's struggles, he wasn't deluded enough to believe he'd become an overnight sensation from a single casting in a TV show, movie or commercial. He wasn't sure that was an ideal situation though – a healthier resume of past roles tended to offer less to criticise and a better body of work to create a show reel. At least, that was true in most cases.
He showed up at the photography studio a little after ten, fidgeting with his bow tie before he walked through the door and up the stairs. A series of photos lined the narrow staircase, varying between tasteful portrait shots and stunning landscapes of city skylines and nature panoramas. He didn't recognise most of the people in the portraits though. He wondered if that was a problem – could he expect good shots which still weren't good enough to book a job?
At the top of the stairs, a white buzzer stood out against the black wall. Biting his lip in nervous anticipation, he pressed it and heard the chiming of bells inside. He had no idea what to expect from the shoot nor the photographer. Brittany had been sketchy about the details – or maybe the better term was 'scattered'. She wasn't as reliable as Trent, frequently getting details muddled before she'd begin blaming her cat for giving her the wrong number. Sometimes, Blaine longed for the stability and normality of Nick, Jeff and Trent. Tina was pretty reliable, but Brittany and Sugar reminded him of lunatics with missing segments of their brains rather than the professionals he needed to get a paying gig.
He'd been waiting so long that he was about to start checking that he'd gone to the right address and then contacting Brittany to ensure she had sent him the correct location, when the door abruptly opened and a man, not too dissimilar to his own age, stood framed in the doorway with an intrigued expression on his face.
Blaine swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The male was openly eyeing him up and down with an undisguised interest that he suspected extended beyond just being a photographer. Even with all his clothes on, he felt naked under the intensity of his stare. "You're my model?"
Blaine felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The question sounded derisive, laced with indignation and disinterest, and contrasted with the look on his face. "That depends. Are you the photographer?"
Something in the male's face shifted, a faint smile playing on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. "I do have a tendency to take photos of people and places."
"So…?"
A hand stretched between them, slightly tan and speckled with freckles. He paused a moment before sliding his hand into it.
"Sebastian Smythe," the photographer said by way of introduction, his handshake firmer than Blaine would have expected but not painful.
He supposed part of the challenge was not immediately folding in on himself and looking weaker compared to this guy that was eyeing him like a predator.
"Blaine Anderson," he said, gazing back with as much determination as he could muster. There had been a time he'd mumbled his way through introductions because of his discomfort or awkwardness, but Nick had roleplayed introductions with him once and he'd learned the terrible impression that left when he wanted to appeal to someone who might cast him. How could he prove to them he was interested and capable if he didn't seem sure of himself?
"Fun." Sebastian was definitely smirking as he held the grip of his hand a moment too long to be normal before letting it go. "Come on in. There's a lot to be done."
He followed Sebastian into the studio, which was large enough to avoid feeling claustrophobic and yet small enough to feel cozy. A Latina with long hair coiled over her shoulder tottered around on ridiculously high heels near a clothing rack while a tall guy with sandy brown hair moved between lights to refocus in an attempt to avoid casting drop shadows. They offered Blaine brief waves before turning back to their work.
"Santana is my stylist who will basically prod, poke and dress you today," Sebastian said with a wave to the girl. He eyed her short, sky blue tube dress and wondered if he should feel concerned about her sense of style clashing with his own. "Hunter is the tech monkey who will ensure the colouring and lighting is spot on, otherwise this shoot becomes a colossal waste of time."
Blaine nodded because he was more than familiar with the amount of time that could be spent on shots which didn't turn out useful later. Cooper had two such experiences under his belt and Blaine had listened to his brother's immense frustration both times when the photos had been unworkable and reshoots had been demanded.
"There's coffee over there," Sebastian pointed at a small kitchenette with a coffee machine, sandwich tray and fruit platter on a table, "and food. I know some people don't like eating but I'd rather you don't faint on me, so if you need a break, you ask for it. Got it?"
Blaine nodded again and tried not to start fiddling with his bow tie out of a nervous habit. Sebastian's gaze bordered on being too attentive and it faintly unnerved him to think that this man would soon be viewing parts of him through a camera lens where Blaine would have nowhere to hide.
"Hate to break up the lover's fest, boys," Santana bustled over with a clothes hanger draped across her arm and jabbed a finger at Blaine, "but you need to get rid of that helmet attached to your head. Classic Hollywood was sixty years ago for a reason."
He winced, touching a hand to his hair self-consciously. "I really don't think-"
"I can deal with curly hair, short stuff," Santana interrupted with a snappy wave of her hand. "You leave whatever your hair does to me. There's enough product in there to plug the hole of the Titanic."
Feeling desperate, Blaine looked at Sebastian but the photographer had tuned out of the conversation, his eyes betraying his disinterest in dissuading the stylist from her mission. He realised that it was his job today to comply with the demands of others and deflated, following the directions toward the bathroom after Santana had thrust the clothes into his unprepared hands.
It was time-consuming to thoroughly wash out his hair with the aim of avoiding it gaining the appearance of springy broccoli. He was terribly insecure as he combed his fingers through the curls, trying to tame them before he swapped his clothes for those Santana had given him. The pants were a little tight around his thighs and he was forced to suck in his stomach when he buttoned the fly. The pale green shirt didn't seem to compliment his skin colour properly and he disliked the pearlescent buttons but it was the outfit he'd been given.
With a nervous sigh, he picked up his folded clothes and returned to the studio.
"Wrong shirt colour!" Hunter's voice boomed through the area and he jumped, clutching the clothes to his chest defensively. The light technician had a tilted head and squinted eyes as he looked at Blaine, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to adjusting the spill of the overhead light.
"Hunt's right. You need a darker green." Santana tsked as she approached, walking around him and dragging long nails down his back. "Are the pants uncomfortable?"
"Um… No, they're bearable," he murmured, not wanting to be too much of a problem in case they didn't have other pants that would fit.
"Good, because they make your ass look fantastic." Santana took his clothes and then tottered to the clothing rack. She flicked through hangers until she found what she wanted, a button-down shirt that was a deep forest green and lacked the pearlescent buttons. She handed it to him and stared at him expectantly.
"What?"
"I'm waiting for you to change so we can move onto controlling that thing on your head," she said and he flushed, unbuttoning the shirt and handing it to her. She barely glanced at him as he pulled on the new shirt but she did nod in approval when it was buttoned.
She sat him on a stool facing away from a mirror. With a small dollop of product in the palm of her hand, she moved around his head with confident fingers and long nails that scratched his scalp. She occasionally murmured something to herself which sounded like Spanish and would call questions to Sebastian who would wander over and gaze at Blaine with a distant expression before replying in something that sounded like French. Santana brushed his face with various powders and creams to contour his appearance and ensure that the bright lights wouldn't drain his cheeks of colour. He was grateful Santana evidently had enough experience to make such adjustments. He'd been expected to do his own make-up on his first amateur shoot and hadn't known what to do. The results had made him look like a ghost and were unusable.
"Alright, off you go," she said with a light push to his shoulder. He hopped off the stool and walked over to where Sebastian and Hunter were standing by the camera.
"Santana, you're a miracle worker!" Hunter called with an approving grin as he looked Blaine up and down.
"I know! That's why you pay me the big bucks!" she teased, moving to stand beside Blaine and patting his head. He squirmed, wondering what it was that kept drawing so much attention to him.
Sebastian was silent for a moment as his eyes shamelessly raked over Blaine's form, before he pointed Blaine onto the expanse of white paper laid out on the floor and wall of the studio. "Test shots first, then we'll get into it."
Blaine followed the directions and stood, slightly awkwardly, as the lights flared when Sebastian pressed the button and Hunter leapt in to make adjustments to the lights or Santana would approach to fiddle with the folds of the shirt against his chest. He was fairly sure was going to be blind by the end of the day with the dazzling flashes to his eyes, which was a constant problem when he ran into paparazzi or excited fans at the stage doors but one he was (hopefully) going to have to get used to in the future.
Apparently satisfied with the changes made, Sebastian began issuing orders for him to stand in certain poses or look in certain directions. Sometimes he was given the freedom to move as he wanted but photo shoots always felt so artificial that it was easy for his discomfort to turn into wooden uncertainty. Sebastian would notice and easily take control, confidently and calmly directing him from behind the lens. Having a photographer who knew what he wanted and how to clearly articulate that was an immense relief. There was a photographer in New York who rarely spoke, leaving Blaine's face and hands at a fidgeting loss. The furious exchanges between the photographer and his stylist in Italian had betrayed how badly Blaine was performing.
With Sebastian, it was easy for the shoot to find a routine. He rotated through various outfits that Santana gave him while Hunter moved basic pieces of furniture onto the set, like a white cube or a fancy wooden chair. Sebastian became more fussy when the props were introduced, demanding him to use them in a particular way and then shaking his head when he complied.
"The furniture distracts from him," he heard Sebastian say to Hunter as he kicked off his shoes and roamed around the set to find a new angle. His cheeks felt warm at the words, although he wasn't entirely sure if the photographer was complimenting him or not.
With the chair in place, Sebastian attempted to get some close-ups of his face. It proved a challenge when all he was capable of doing was crushing his cheek and looking "like a doll that had been squashed by a truck", according to Santana. Sebastian was visibly frustrated when Santana stepped in to try adjusting Blaine's head and hand like he was a flexible Barbie.
By the fifth outfit, Sebastian had waved Hunter and Santana away to eat. He'd asked if Blaine wanted a break but he preferred to push on while the adrenaline was still thrumming through his body. Sebastian was clearly immensely focused on continuing too.
"Unbutton your top…two buttons for me," Sebastian said, changing lenses on the camera and twisting the focus ring as he looked through the viewfinder at Blaine. It was said clinically with a cool sense of detachment, but Blaine was pretty sure he didn't feel overheated simply because the lights were hot.
He ended up with four buttons undone and Sebastian's fingers nimbly rearranging the collar of his shirt. They hovered near his neck and it was a strain to stay still as he studiously avoided looking anywhere near Sebastian's face.
"How comfortable are you with shots involving less fabric?" Sebastian asked, returning to his camera and squinting through the viewfinder.
Blaine glanced towards where Santana and Hunter had their heads together by the kitchenette, looking surprisingly couple-y after he'd begun suspecting that Santana had little interest in men. Maybe he'd have to rethink his assessment. "I don't like having an audience."
"You like the intimacy of just being with the photographer?" Sebastian mused, pausing his focusing of the shot to smirk at Blaine.
He ducked his head with embarrassment and felt the flash around him. Sebastian chuckled at his affronted glare.
"I've wanted to catch that expression since I opened the door," the photographer grinned and it was difficult not to cross his arms over his chest and pout like a toddler. "So you're open to some more revealing shots then? I just have to dismiss the lackeys?"
Blaine shrugged, knowing that he would stop before he was too nude. He didn't need some sort of naked photo scandal to surface and give him all the wrong publicity. His Broadway fanbase was too young, too innocent, too wholesome. Nick would probably string him up by his balls.
Sebastian took a few more shots before he handed Blaine another outfit to change into. As he did so, the photographer walked over to Santana and Hunter and snagged a sandwich from the tray. The three talked and he tried to ignore Santana's eyes on him as he fiddled with getting the perfect knot to the tie around his neck, adjusted the strap of the belt around his waist. He was so intent on proving he could dress himself that he failed to realise the approach of Santana's heels.
"Behave," Santana said, smoothing the labels of his jacket and the creases on his shoulders. It was loud enough that she could have been saying it to Sebastian, but he wasn't quite sure. Her dark eyes seemed pretty fixated on him.
Hunter checked his equipment and then gave Sebastian a fist bump before he left with the Latina. Almost immediately, Blaine began fretting he'd made the wrong decision. Maybe he couldn't say no before too much of his skin was exposed and his New York team was plotting his castration.
"You look like a skittish rabbit. Stop that," Sebastian said firmly, leaning against the chair Blaine had been sitting on earlier. "I'll still give you directions and you call the shots if you don't want to do it. Clear?"
Blaine bit his lip, eyes flickering up to Sebastian who looked completely calm and composed. He supposed he had to offer a small amount of trust to this man and gave in with a tiny nod.
Despite it just being the two of them, little changed in the way the shoot progressed. Sebastian continued to tell him what to do, how to move, where to look, and he continued to do his best to do what was demanded, moving the way he needed to or focusing his eyes wherever Sebastian had told him.
The tie was the first thing to go followed by the top button on his shirt. Sebastian's voice retained the calm detachment as he issued orders and Blaine began to relax. He allowed the buttons on his shirt to be undone, pausing whenever Sebastian told him to stop because he wanted to get close-ups of his hands. He could feel his heart beating in his chest when his shirt hung open on his shoulders and Sebastian eyed him a moment too long.
"So why Broadway?" Sebastian asked suddenly, lowering the legs of the tripod as he moved to Blaine's left.
He blinked in surprise and looked over his shoulder. The lights flashed as Sebastian captured the image with an amused smile.
"How do you know about Broadway?" he replied, trying to keep his feet fixed when the photographer indicated he needed to stay still.
Sebastian's smile widened into a grin that left dimples on his cheeks and crinkles at the edges of his eyes. "I make it a habit of knowing about popular new talent that skipped out of the closet," Sebastian said simply, twisting a dial on top of the camera and peering through the viewfinder again. "Do you think it's a risky move to start your career as a gay man?"
Blaine looked away with a slightly puzzled frown. Sebastian sounded like one of those homophobic reporters in New York, challenging his sexuality in order to garner an exclusive skerrick of information. "I wasn't going to lie to myself or anyone else as I tried to make my name," he said finally. "If they couldn't accept I was talented and gay, then I shouldn't be anywhere near the glitter and lights of show biz."
"Talented, huh?" The lights flashed again as Sebastian depressed the button on the camera. "That doesn't sound particularly modest."
"Was I meant to?" he challenged, feeling almost defensive in front of this stranger.
Sebastian shrugged, gazing over the top of the camera. "You have a strong baritone voice and a look that is distinctive and translates well onto camera," he said, his fingers twisting the focusing ring on the lens. "I suppose I can see why you'd be a bit conceited."
He opened his mouth to retaliate when the lights flashed in quick succession and blinded him to where the photographer was. He could hear Sebastian's satisfied hum as he looked at the photos. "Are you trying to rile me up?"
"It seems to be working," Sebastian mused, abandoning the camera to move towards him. He took half a step back out of habit as the photographer's fingers peeled the shirt from his shoulders and then retreated back behind the camera again.
"I'm not a puppet you can enrage simply for a good shot."
"And yet you've moved to Los Angeles, home of puppeteers playing with marionettes everywhere," Sebastian pointed out as another flash pasted sparkles on Blaine's eyes. "Broadway is all about rehearsals, about repeating a role so many times that the emotions attached to each line become natural."
Blaine frowned and another flash went off.
"Hollywood is all about quick grabs, limited rehearsals, following orders to get something done in the least amount of takes possible." Sebastian looked over the camera, his gaze intense when Blaine met it with a small squint to his eyes from the dazzling lights. "If you want to make it here, you'll have people saying all sorts of things to you just so they get the reaction they need. Some of it might not be true but that doesn't matter. They're looking for genuine rawness that they can capture, not something manufactured through spending eons of time going through the motions until it feels stale."
Blaine tilted his head at Sebastian, intrigued by his words. He knew most of that instinctively after a few brief appearances on TV shows in New York or watching Cooper's credit card commercials when he was younger, but Sebastian had a way of explaining the situation without sounding accusatory or disheartened. It was simply a series of facts that Blaine couldn't deny.
Sebastian nodded to himself and placed the chair back on the set. "Sit. Do things with the chair. Get comfortable. Would you remove your pants?"
Blaine blinked as he looked down at himself. He supposed he still had his underwear on and there wasn't anything he needed to hide. His cheeks were probably a dark pink though as he pushed the tight pants down his legs and kicked them towards Sebastian.
"You have a body for the screen," Sebastian murmured, almost too quiet for him to hear.
He sat on the chair and allowed the photographer to issue commands about how to sit. It took him a while but they eventually found the same rhythm as earlier and Blaine was almost able to forget that he was without any clothes except for a pair of black boxer-briefs. Sebastian stopped prodding at his career and they lapsed into a silence that almost felt comfortable, moving around each other with a surprisingly relaxed ease.
Sebastian finally paused, his fingers still against the camera as he stared over it at Blaine. "You want to call it a day?"
Blaine looked down at himself, fingers brushing against his belly. "Well, I… If you think you have all the shots you need."
"Ideally I'd like to see you out of your underwear."
Blaine looked up at Sebastian's grinning face with a startled flush. He probably looked like a deer trapped in the headlights.
"But I wouldn't want to push you too far," Sebastian continued, moving away from his camera to fiddle with one of the lights. It looked like he was switching off for the day and Blaine wasn't sure how to feel about it.
It was probably why he ended up seized by stupidity and shoved down his boxer-briefs until they pooled at his feet.
"How do you want me?" he challenged, drawing Sebastian's eyes back to him. He watched the photographer's eyes widen, his mouth parted just slightly to allow his tongue to lick over his lips. He could feel his whole body flushing under the heated stare, the faintly amused smile, the definitely impressed incline of Sebastian's head.
"I don't need to have your cock exposed to me," Sebastian said bluntly, making a vague gesture towards the chair. "I can do tasteful."
Blaine sat down again, following Sebastian's orders to sit sideways with one leg crossed over the other. He could feel a small part of him doubting what Sebastian had wanted from this entire exercise. Maybe Sebastian wasn't gay. Maybe he hadn't been flirting. He began regretting the hasty and unchecked decision to do this, barely able to meet Sebastian's gaze or look anywhere near the camera. He knew he was attractive, knew he had a good body that took hours of dedicated fitness training each week to maintain, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of his nakedness. He'd done some scenes in very off-Broadway shows years ago that had included brief flashes of nudity for comedic effect but being in front of Sebastian's camera felt more exposing than performing in front of an audience of a hundred people night after night. He was extremely conscious of maintaining his dignity but it seemed like Sebastian knew exactly how to make him move and still keep him shielded. Perhaps the photos were more about removing the black stain of underwear from his skin rather than some voyeuristic naked shots that would cause a scandal in a few months or years' time and would make Nick, Jeff, Trent, Tina, Sugar and Brittany fight over who got to put his head on a stake for sheer stupidity.
"You'll go far, Anderson," Sebastian said as he finally disconnected the camera from the tripod and released the memory card. He carefully lowered the camera into an open black bag and spun the card in his fingers. "You want to look over some of the shots after you've dressed or just wait for me to send you the best ones?"
Blaine's toes wriggled against the white paper which drew Sebastian's eyes towards them. He had a feeling the photographer was trained to notice the minutest details about a person. "I'd, um… I'd like to look."
Sebastian nodded and moved towards the kitchenette. Blaine hadn't realised how hungry he was until then, when the adrenaline and the focus required by the shoot began to wear off. With a blush staining his cheeks, he quickly pulled on his underwear and strode over to wear Santana had left his clothes hours ago. There was little point in moving to the bathrooms now after Sebastian had seen everything but he still felt as though he was sheltering behind the rack of clothes as he knotted his bow tie and brushed a hand against his hair.
Sebastian was seated on a couch in a small alcove of the kitchenette, his feet propped up on a coffee table and a MacBook resting on his lap. Blaine picked up the platter of sandwiches and sat down beside the photographer to look over his shoulder at the photos.
Not having seen what Santana had done to his hair, he was surprised how effortlessly controlled it looked considering the frizz he'd witnessed in the bathroom after rinsing out the gel. You could tell he had curly hair but it was swept into gentle waves away from his face, making him somehow look older and younger without looking like a greasy classic Hollywood star from sixty years ago. Sebastian was flying through the photos almost too fast for Blaine to pick up on the details within him, alternating between huffing a soft laugh and humming in a distinct sound of dislike. His fingers would hit the Delete button from time to time on photos that all began to look the same to Blaine. He wondered what the photographer saw that he couldn't.
"I'll put all of these on a USB for you when I'm done," Sebastian said, breaking the silence as he glanced at Blaine gnawing on the corner of a sandwich. "Some will need a little bit of Photoshop for colour corrections but I think you'll be satisfied that there's a good range of shots here for any casting call as well as the spread."
Sebastian beckoned him closer and he tried not to feel too awkward as their arms and thighs pressed together. He could feel his heart quivering in his chest, perhaps a byproduct of an escaped butterfly from his stomach.
"These are my favourites," Sebastian murmured, opening up an array of images that Blaine stared at in surprise. He looked…nothing like himself.
He knew it was him – he'd seen himself enough in magazines and Playbills and the mirror – but the expressions on his face weren't anything familiar. There were a couple where his eyes looked unguarded as they focused on a place above him. There was one where his nose was crinkled in annoyance, probably in response to something Sebastian had said to get a reaction from him. There was one where his eyes were wide open and stunned as they stared directly at the camera, his lips parted with words on his tongue, and he felt like the person in the photo wasn't him but someone younger and more vulnerable.
There were a few shots of him on the chair with his clothes on, shots which showed the curve of his back and angle of his jaw. A close-up of his hands, his profile, half his face, the sparkle of his eyes. Sebastian had included one shot of him in just his underwear with an expression that seemed defiant considering how uncomfortable he'd felt, and then another where he clearly had no clothes on his skin and looked scared and lost.
Each shot was so radically different from the last, each expression captured with painstaking clarity. He didn't even know he was capable of such variety but all the photos spoke of an emotional depth he'd rarely witnessed in photos from the past. He supposed it was one of the flaws of Broadway – you invited someone to observe without having them fully engage you. No one got closer than their seat allowed, no one could pause and zoom in and examine every inch of his face, his body, his hands.
Yet Sebastian had done just that. Sebastian had captured him in a multitude of ways and managed to show insights into parts of his soul in moments when it was all stripped away. The talent that Sebastian had was enough to leave him slightly breathless.
"Pleased?" Sebastian asked and Blaine wondered if the vulnerability he heard was just his imagination.
"They're amazing," he complimented, offering a smile that Sebastian seemed shy in returning. He wondered why. The photographer had been unassumingly confident when taking photos earlier.
"Thank you for the honour of shooting you," Sebastian said, dragging his gaze away from Blaine's and setting it on the computer. His fingers flew across the keyboard, creating folders and moving photos around.
Blaine tried to analyse each little detail of Sebastian in the hopes of understanding how the photographer was able to see him, except Blaine didn't really have a good eye for details and kept getting distracted by the line of freckles that drifted from Sebastian's cheek down his neck.
"What?" Sebastian huffed, pausing in his allocation of photos to folders to glance at him with arched eyebrows.
"You're just…" Blaine felt his cheeks heat again and shrugged, reaching up to ensure his bow tie was on straight before he left. He didn't think he should take up more of Sebastian's time than he already had.
"I'm just?" Sebastian prompted, his fingers still above the keyboard and his expression patiently amused.
"It's a shame you're a photographer," Blaine mumbled, rising to his feet and moving to retrieve his shoes.
"Oh?" Sebastian clicked something on the laptop before shutting the screen. Blaine could hear him following him. "Why is it a shame? I thought you were pleased with the shots?"
Blaine poked his first foot into his loafers before Sebastian's fingers closed around his wrist. His eyes flickered shut as his breath caught in his throat, the touch sending unexpected sparks along his nerves. "I guess I just imagined you'd make a good photography subject too," he whispered.
Sebastian laughed, tugging him until he turned around. There were only inches separating them and Blaine became conscious of the difference in their heights again.
"Should I feel like that was a compliment?" Sebastian murmured, his eyes dragging over Blaine's face in a way that made his skin flare with excited tingles.
"Probably depends on how vain you are."
Sebastian laughed again, but it was softer this time, more private, like only he was meant to hear it. "You're in Los Angeles, Killer. Vanity is everywhere."
He grimaced before he could stop himself, but Sebastian didn't seem to mind. Instead, the hand around his wrist raised it to settle on Sebastian's waist while Sebastian's continued higher, cupping his cheek and tilting his head. It made his shoulders stiffen as he stared into dark green eyes.
"How many of your magazine spreads turn into private naked shoots?" he said, his voice barely a breath between them. It was increasingly difficult to think coherently when Sebastian's thumb smoothed over his cheekbone.
"You would be the first," Sebastian acknowledged, his lips twitching at the corners. "You'd be the first client I've wanted to kiss since the moment I saw you too."
His breathing faltered as he continued to stare at Sebastian, feeling hypnotised beneath the gaze. "So you don't make a habit of flirting with your subjects?"
Sebastian pursed his lips, his eyes drifting back and forth over Blaine's expression. "Only the super hot ones," he conceded with a widening grin.
Blaine rolled his eyes and Sebastian huffed another of those soft, private laughs before finally, finally, pressing their lips together. His feet rolled back to settle firmly on the ground as Sebastian kissed him, the softness of his lips conflicting with the confident press of his tongue into Blaine's mouth. His breath stuttered as Sebastian angled his head and a thumb smoothed up the length of his throat to dig into his pulse point. He was powerless to do much of anything except grip at Sebastian's shirt between bunched fingers and let himself fall into the kiss.
Sebastian's teeth nipped at his lower lip, sucking it for a moment before he pulled away. When he finally opened his eyes, he felt completely dazed and his breathing was as uneven as Sebastian's. It was a challenged to focus on the face in front of him when every nerve in his body strained for more and every thought in his head told him to practise restraint.
"I'll buy you dinner," Sebastian said, lips brushing against Blaine's and making his whole body buzz with anticipation. "Then you can decide if you want to be naked in front of me again."
"That probably depends…" he said slowly, fingers loosening from Sebastian's shirt as he attempted to let go and move away.
Sebastian almost looked disgruntled as he leaned back, the grip of his hand tightening around Blaine's face to hold him steady. "I'm buying you dinner. What sort of catch could there be to that?"
Blaine felt the grin spread across his face as he twisted out of Sebastian's hold and shuffled back. "Do you plan on being naked too?"
Sebastian snorted. "I don't plan on letting you sleep."
Blaine giggled and flushed as he realised he still only had one shoe on. "Well then," he said, searching around for it and adjusting his clothes because of his nervousness and not wanting them to look too rumpled when he stepped onto the street, "you can pick me up at seven."
Sebastian stared at him, a laugh shaking his shoulders as Blaine walked towards the door. "Dress nice!"
Blaine glanced over his shoulder, aiming for a coy smile as his fingers lingered on the wooden frame. "What does that matter? We both know you'll want me out of them at the first available opportunity."
Sebastian's laughter filled the studio as he walked out the door, following him down the stairs and onto the street. A stupid smile stretched his mouth wide enough that it hurt as the sun danced across his cheeks.
~TBC~