It was a rainy afternoon where Chanyeol settles in front of the camera and for the umpteenth time Kyungsoo captures his smile for posterity.
Chanyeol's smile.
Fantastically natural.
So precious that it motivates to keep it protected in a chest like the old treasures. But only then would it be useless, not without he. Because the truth, Kyungsoo knows, is that with this work the smile becomes fatal.
He told Chanyeol that it can't be like that, that he spoils everything by smiling like that. As much as he has touched up the photos, moving opacities and shines from here to there, pronouncing shadows, his gaze not only falls on the naked body, which is the first thing he is interested in highlighting.
It seems a vile lie, because the marked curves of the marked abdomen, the dark haloes of the nipples, the limb protected by black hairs, large and erect, as if pointing towards some invisible enemy.
He is the desire itself. His whole body asks to pinch it, suck it, bite it...
That is the effect that Kyungsoo wants to obtain: a provocative, playful image that invites attack and caress. He looks for the primary, the already invented, the everyday. Not the eternal. He cannot look for a reflective or much more poetic pretext that stands between Chanyeol and the spectator's most urgent fantasies.
Unfortunately, his smile bottles everything.
With a force that he cannot understand, his smile becomes a focal point that devours his erotic purposes. Kyungsoo shrugs his shoulders and says, "Well, let's go again.
Chanyeol never asks, never argues, never resists.
Sometimes he seems not to understand. He lets himself be carried away by a complaisant and laughing demon that tickles him. He confuses him, makes him behave like a beginner. He takes everything down: the type of camera, the brand, the sensitivity of the film, the exposure time and the lens opening.
"Everything's fine". The only problem is the smile.
"What to do?" is what Kyungsoo asks himself at the end of each session, when he feels that history is repeating itself.
Thunder rumbles, rain rushes and swoops against the crystals as Chanyeol lies down on the carpet once again.
Our artist is not satisfied with the new image. He thinks that maybe it is the position, so repetitive, so used in thousands of previous works. He tells Chanyeol to open his legs. He prefers to leave it for the end, as a subtle insinuation that glimpses the forbidden fruit but does not let you reach it. But he is desperate.
Chanyeol separates the thighs moving slowly. On the left, inside near the bundle of black hairs, a tiny mole shines against the snowy skin. "It would be a crime to hide it." Suddenly she sits halfway up, looks around, grabs a velvet-lined cushion and places it under her buttocks.
He poses again and now, surrounded by hair, he exhibits the erect phallus with its somewhat wet pink tip. "Delicious, firm, evident." Kyungsoo want to lick it for a long time, to sink it in the mouth and carry it deep in the throat.
Meanwhile, the Chanyeol's body on the carpet accommodates itself and shows the pink button that protects the buttocks. "How beautiful it is!" He really want to let go of the camera.
As he watches him, he gradually believes that Chanyeol could become heterosexual. But for now he looks fabulous with his impressive phallus... and not so much with the smile.
Kyungsoo take a photo but the smile is placed with daring protagonism in the very center of the lens.
-It's no good, Chanyeol, it's no good. - Feel the fatigue. - I don't need to reveal it to know that it doesn't work.
Chanyeol sits in the lotus position and looks at he. "Confused? Who knows?" He tilts his head like a dog in the face of the unusual exclamation. Kyungsoo thinks that if he were approached too close, he would not be able to contain himself. He imagines him running in the street, naked in the rain. He thinks that perhaps even under water and thunder, the smile will persist.
It could cover his face. It is not optimal, but in short, if there is no other alternative to hide the smile ... Because the only thing he won't do is look for another model. "Not that." He is his, he found it, he discovered it in the street among thousands of more striking men.
When Kyungsoo saw him for the first time, how could he imagine that his smile was fixed to its owner like an unbreakable mask? After all, who owns who? He wasn't as attracted to him as he was to what was hidden behind that smile. "How could he imagine that it would bother him?"
"What if I photographed him from behind?" It might be interesting not to see his face.
Now Chanyeol is with his elbows resting on the carpet: the immaculate buttocks; the contracted ring, pink like all the pink in it, perhaps darker; the erection with its pink tip now upside down, but just as spongy and tempting.
Slowly he moves, crawls and her whole body undulates. What Kyungsoo wants now is to kneel behind him, hold the pink tip, a tickle, a squeeze, wrap and massage him ... and penetrate him in one go.
Let it groan, let it scream, let it twist...
A flash of lightning brings him back to the reality of the studio, the camera and the storm. He doesn't distinguish Chanyeol's face, but he can't concentrate either because, in a way that already frightens him, he knows he's smiling.
I had never thought of Chanyeol as a lover. I had never touched it before, it was a question of order; of not mixing things up. Vaguely in the process he dreamed of everything I would do at the end of the work...
Now, on the other hand, he is convinced that in the future he could only dream of sleeping with him.