My Inspiration

By Cyberwulf

Rated M for sexual innuendo.

Disclaimer: Ace Attorney and all related characters belong to Capcom/Nintendo.

Summary: Written for the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme. A drunken encounter results in Larry drawing Godot's portrait.

It had started, like many of these encounters did, with two guys in a bar and a lot of alcohol.

"Dumped again!"

Larry slammed his empty beer bottle down on the bar and called for another one. "Y'know, whoever said women go for the arty types was a big fat LIAR."

"Ha…!" Godot took a swallow of his own drink. It was only cheap beer – he couldn't afford anything better – but it was a big step up from fermented orange juice mixed with ketchup and garnished with floating lumps of mould. "They go for them, all right. They just don't stay with 'em." He smirked at Larry, swaying a little on his barstool – half too much booze, half chronic nerve damage. "Pretty pictures don't pay the bills." He thought about it for a minute. "Unless you're a forger."

"Well I'm done with women," Larry slurred. "Done!" It was a statement he'd made countless times in the past, but this time he meant it.

Here the Latin number on the jukebox captured Godot's attention – he was impressed that he could still follow the lyrics, despite his rusty Spanish – and so when Larry leaned into him and remarked loudly,

"I mean, at least I know you're a murderer,"

the former prosecutor felt like he'd skipped several pages.

"What's this, kiddo?" Anyone under forty was a kid to him, these days.

"I'm sayin' I think it's time," Larry explained. "I'm thirty-five, I've never had a gay experience…" He chugged the rest of his drink. "…let's go for it! You and me. Let's have buttsex."

Godot laughed so hard he actually fell off his barstool. This got them both ejected from the bar.

In the cold night air, Larry repeated his proposition.

"You're a pretty good-lookin' guy," he hiccupped, "an' you've been in jail so you'd probably know what you're doing…" He leaned into Godot, a drunken grin on his face. "C'mon, come on back to my place."

Godot smirked back. He didn't have any plans for the night, anyway.

So here they were, in Larry's bachelor pad, kissing and pawing each other clumsily on his bed. Godot was letting Larry take the lead. He felt lazy after so much beer, and he had a feeling Larry wasn't gonna go through with it. Larry was kissing him too hard, groping him too tight – trying to convince himself he wanted this. He was surprised when Larry began to unbutton his shirt.

"You first, kitten," he murmured, and tugged off Larry's T-shirt. He draped his arms around Larry's waist and smirked at him, waiting to see what he would do next.

Godot was surprised again when Larry smirked back and pushed him to the mattress. Larry resumed unbuttoning Godot's shirt, while the former prosecutor ran his hands gently up and down Larry's tanned back. Perhaps this kitten wasn't so timid, after all…

He realised that Larry had stopped.

" What's wrong?" Godot asked.

Larry was gazing at Godot's bare chest. Godot watched as Larry lifted a finger and gently ran it alongside the chain of his Medic Alert tag, then went lower, tracing the scar left by his feeding tube all those years ago, and down into the trail of greying hair that ran from his navel underneath his trousers…

"I have to draw you."

Godot chuckled. "What?"

Larry began to back off the bed, gesturing for Godot to stay put. "Just – just get undressed. Please, dude, I have to draw you." He got up and went to get his sketchpad from the lounge.

Godot scratched his beard and smirked. This was a development he hadn't expected, but it appealed to his vanity. He stripped the rest of the way and was sitting naked on the bed when Larry returned with a sketchpad, a box of pencils and a chair.

"You want me to pose?" Godot asked with a smirk.

Larry shook his head. "Just lie on the bed. Just – natural." He set down his equipment and adjusted the dimmer switch until the lighting was just right. Godot lay back on the pillow and got comfortable.

"How's this, kitten?"

Larry paused, making a square with his thumbs and index fingers. He moved around the bed till he found the perfect position to start drawing.

"Hold it there," he instructed, fetching his chair and drawing equipment.

"You…" Godot stroked the top ridge of his visor. "…you want my mask on or off?"

"On," Larry replied without hesitating. The way the light played on the silver metal was too fascinating – he had to try to capture it. He set his sketchbook on his knees, carefully selected the right pencil, and began to draw.

Godot watched with interest and amusement as Larry sketched intently, his tongue poking out of his mouth. He didn't hold out much hope for the end result of all this intense concentration; from what he remembered, the guy wasn't much of an artist. Then again, it had been about ten years…maybe he'd improved. Godot was too drunk to really care, especially since all he had to do was lie on the bed and not move. He closed his eyes behind his visor and let Larry get on with it.

Larry was sobering up, the fog of alcohol rapidly clearing as he drew. Godot's body was amazing – the IV marks on the insides of his elbows, the scar tissue on his stomach, the shock of white hair that was such a contrast to his dark skin, his greying body hair and beard, the visor… Larry couldn't remember the last time he'd had a subject with such rich and varied textures. He took his time once he had the outline sketched, carefully filling in the details. He had no idea when he would ever get this opportunity again, and he wanted to do the other man justice.

*

"…hey. Hey, you awake, buddy?"

Godot stirred and opened his eyes. "Hmm?"

Larry was sitting on the bed beside him, sketchpad in hand. "I finished," he said excitedly. "You wanna see?"

Godot cleared his throat and sat up. "Sure." He accepted the sketchpad and took a look.

It was good – very good. In fact, as Godot gazed at the picture, he felt that it was too good. Larry had captured his scars and track marks, the scrawny muscles that had never really recovered from five years of complete inactivity, even the bar of white hair slashed across his beard in the centre of his chin. This was how the other man saw him…how any lover would see him. Godot felt his heart sink.

Larry leaned in a little, resting his hand on Godot's shoulder as he looked at the picture too.

"I know," he remarked, misinterpreting Godot's silence. "Betcha didn't think you were a work of art."

Godot looked at him. "A… work of…?"

"Yeah." Larry lifted his hand and ran his fingers over the scar on Godot's stomach. "You're beautiful, man."

Godot carefully set the sketchpad aside, cupped Larry's cheek, and kissed him, long and slow. A short while later Larry was having his first gay sexual experience, moaning out "Diego…!" as Godot got him off.

"What about you? …I'm supposed to do something now, right? That's how this works…isn't it?"

"Just let me crash here tonight, kid." Godot smirked at him as he shifted position and rested his head on the pillow. "Right…here."

Larry nodded, and a few minutes later they were fast asleep in each others' arms.

The next morning, Godot was gone, leaving only a coffee mug draining on the kitchen counter.

Larry framed the picture.