There is a certain level of both curiosity and creativity that Kaoru sees in Kyouya, especially in these situations.
He's laying on his stomach, the side of his face, chest, legs and, well, other parts, are pressed into a soft, silk pillow; the cool fabric gently caresses his burning, sensitive skin.
Kyouya takes his time, drawing out their foreplay for as long as he is able; both torture and heaven in his methods. A short while ago, the older man had been straddling his thighs, lightly brushing the cool body paint across his back, across his very own beautiful canvass. It was sensual and incredibly stimulating.
Now, Kyouya was at his side, barely touching him, moving the brush over his calves, the soles of his feet, the sensitive skin on the backs of his knees, and his thighs.
He paints in so many colours: white, ocean blue, yellow, blushing pink and a hint of passionate red. Kaoru must look like a masterpiece from the older man's perspective.
"Oh fuck, Kyouya," He moans when the sleek paint is brushed high on his inner thigh; red, "You're so good at this."
"I am a doctor," Kyouya states, a smirk in his voice (and probably on his face) as he moved to add cool blue higher on Kaoru's inner thigh, who gasps and shudders as the heat pooling low in his abdomen increases even further, and certain anatomy becomes almost painfully hard, "I'm an expert on human anatomy; especially yours."
"You've spent so much time... using me to study... it's probably not surprising..." Kaoru manages to grind out, panting in both torment and intense pleasure.
"True, true," Kyouya ponders, "And I'm also an artist."
Kyouya trails a streak of red from mid-thigh, twisting around the limb to the more sensitive skin and ascending further and further. Kaoru's hand's bunch in the silk sheets and bites the pillow beneath him, a strangled cry of that intense pleasure echoing around their room.
"Artists know passion. The pure sexuality of those who pursue this passion is well known," Kyouya murmurs, voice dropping an octave at least, "I'd say you're an expert on the subject yourself."
That voice sends him over the edge.
"Fuck... Kyouya... Fuck me, please," He begs, pride forgotten; he needs this.
"In a moment," Kyouya answers, the weight shifting of the bed.
"In... In a moment?!" He practically shrieks, trembling. How dare that man.
"I need to get my camera, this is beautiful; on of my greatest works!" The man exclaims, a level of awe in his voice that makes Kaoru, in his current state of discomposure, finds sickening, "I need to get have a record of it before it smudges."
'Oh yes, obvious,' Kaoru rues.
"Ootori... if you put my naked, painted ass in your gallery... I swear -"
And the door clicks shut, the artist already in search of his camera.
'Fucking artists.'
A/N: Smut on Christmas day, a new low.
Ok, now my place in hell is secured; this idea would not. leave. me. alone. I had to write it to save what's left of my sanity.
I heard of this... recreational activity *cough* and couldn't help but think of this. Now, my sexual experience, I'm not ashamed to say, is rather limited; so I apologise for any inaccuracies.