Prompt: John suddenly feels artistic and paints on Sherlock's tummy ;D maybe before or after a stuffing? like. with before, it would sort of change as his stomach expands, but with after, you get the feeling of the brush on an already-oversensitive belly? Up to you~ Alternatively- Fingerpainting also an option
Hmm... I kind of went with a bit of everything. Hope that's alright. haha!
John went back to his pallet, choosing a deep yellow to add to his masterpiece. Brush loaded with paint, he returned to his canvas with light strokes, trying to time them with it's soft shifts. It gave a particularly large jostle and a soft groan. John gave a put upon sigh of exasperation and went back over with the black again.
"Sherlock, hold still," he admonished, going in to fix the mistake.
"Easy for you to say," grumbled the detective. He was dressed in nothing but his pants and reclining against the headboard of the bed. They had thoughtfully covered everything in towels and an old sheet in case of spills. Sherlock plucked another strawberry from the bowl beside him, dunked it in chocolate sauce, and then sent it to join the mass of food already packed into his belly. He'd had a rather large serving of lasagna, with salad, and then a big bowl of chocolate ice cream. Now he was making his way through his second carton of strawberries while John painted on his pale bloated middle. Sherlock gave an indulgent hum, doing his best not to shift as that cool paint swept over his skin, the light touches causing every over-stimulated nerve to sing. He shoved more food down his throat.
"Beautiful," murmured John, and he wasn't looking at his own handiwork. Sherlock gave John a sly wink, then lifted the bowl of chocolate sauce to his lips, tilted it and then drank it down slowly. It was unbelievably rich, and sweet enough to make him feel a bit queasy on top of everything else, but it was also wonderful.
He finished, muffled a belch and looked down to admire the curve of his belly, to watch John paint slowly and carefully on him. The detective shivered and arched back, trying to keep his belly still at least even as that brush taunted, tickled, and teased him.
"Ha-hmmph..."
"Almost done, love," murmured John soothingly, going for some blue now and using it to create a bit of a back drop. And to goad Sherlock further, he imagined. It certainly worked. The man huffed and threw his head back against the headboard, head moving from side to side with each sweeping brush stroke to his belly.
"Ah... god... fuu-"
John was looking a little flustered too now. "Just a little... there." He sat back on his calves to take in his handiwork, then chuckled. "The bloke in the middle there got a bit fatter than when I first painted him, but it's finished." He smirked at Sherlock and patted the side of the man's bloated belly, leaving a few new spots of paint.
Sherlock gave a relieved sigh. "Can I see?" he asked, "Take a photograph. I don't especially want to move."
"Alright, you lazy git," John replied with a laugh. He fetched Sherlock's mobile from the night stand and snapped a photo, then a couple others for good measure. One of Sherlock looking flushed and dark eyed, his cheeks pinked along with chocolate stained lips. One at an angle that made his belly look practically mountainous, jutting up proudly where a valley had once been. Then he got a few shots of his painting and crawled up beside Sherlock to flick through them with him.
"Oh, I look grotesque in that one. Delete it."
"I think it's sweet."
"You're horribly biased. Delete it."
"Fine."
"Oh... found a good angle there, didn't you?" breathed Sherlock, his voice growing dark as his hand slipped down to pat the side of his belly.
"Mmhmm. Now here's the painting. Do you like it?"
Sherlock smiled, then chuckled. On his bulging gut were painted three busy bees, visiting various flowers. The detail was rather good actually. And yes, the bee in the middle had stretched quite a bit more as a result of his feasting. But
"Beautiful," he murmured, then leaned over to kiss John gently, "I'm glad we have the photo. It seems a shame to wash it off."
"You can keep it a little bit," said John, shrugging, "It's fine though. We'll just have to do this again sometime."
Sherlock hummed in agreement. "Most certainly. But, my doctor artist, I do believe there is still some blank canvas to be found." He gestured at his stomach. "It seems to have grown." He smirked.
John chuckled and kissed him again. "Yeah you're right, though this time... I think I fancy a bit of finger painting." Rather than reaching for the paints however, John grabbed the emptied chocolate bowl and swirled some of what remained stuck to the sides onto his fingers. Then he dabbed them lightly against Sherlock's skin, staining the pale with dark new patterns.
"Oh," sighed Sherlock, feeling his lover's warm fingers spreading the stickiness on his tight belly.
"Oh, John," he groaned when he felt John's hot, wet tongue join in.