LIRA AN: Okay, this is Luce and Conrad exchanging homosexual decorating tips. I swear to fuck this makes sense. Also, Luce and I both approve of naked drawing time. He was... Kind of set on the "naked" part of this equation happening. Aside from the naked, not a very filthy chapter.

Anyway, this is now up to date! At the start we were having a chapter every week working on this, but due to internet troubles, there hasn't been much writing lately, and I can't really say what a posting schedule is going to look like. But rest assured, we don't intend to let this thing rest for a very long time.

MISERIA AN: They are so adorable, they really are x3 Conrad and I are somewhat mortified by naked drawing time, but...what Luce wants. =u=

DISCLAIMER: Hanna is Not a Boy's Name is still the property of the marvelous Tessa Stone; no infringement is meant and no profit is being made.

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DISABUSING NOTIONS

-by: Lira & Miseria-

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.012. - .Fit For An Emperor.

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Conrad's smile grew a little at his words, happy that the man was talking back despite Luce's face being unreadable as far as what he thought about the teenager clinging to him. Conrad moved a little more, his body leaned back completely but his arms still tightly attached to Luce's neck. He wasn't about to let go yet, not unless Luce made him. His eyes settled on the older mans lip which he noticed really had stopped bleeding. He leaned forward and kissed Luce briefly on the lips, keeping his mouth closed and pulling back again almost immediately. Conrad knew that Luce disagreed completely with any ideas the teenager had about them being "together" or things of that nature, but the whole fight still felt incomplete, unresolved without a kiss. It didn't matter to Conrad that he had to be the one to do it, or that Luce might disapprove and probably wouldn't understand the meaning behind it.

Luce really didn't get the concept of "kiss and make up" as it was not something he would ever endeavor to do. He believed that if apologies happened, it would be the other person making them. He therefore accepted Conrad's quick kiss graciously enough, viewing it more like another way Conrad was admitting he had been wrong. "Awright, kiddo," he said afterward. "Doan'cha think yer fergettin' sumthin'?" Luce wanted to segue out of the current moment as quickly as possible, but even in hurry he was not going to make things too easy for Conrad. Conrad still owed Luce, and Luce wanted to make sure the kid figured that out on his own.

Conrad's smile faded at Luce's words, and he searched his brain for what he could have forgotten. His eyes stayed locked to the older man's as his expression shifted to humble confusion. He'd said he was sorry and he'd done something for Luce that he thought made up for it; Luce was even acting like it was all alright again. The teenager's eyes faltered, darting to the couch and his hands, still tightly around Luce's neck, before he brought them back to the man's.

"I...What did I..?" Conrad stopped there, somewhat afraid that he was going to disappoint Luce.

This was definitely more enjoyable than cuddling like lumps. For one thing, Conrad was making pathetic faces again, an occurrence that only grew better with time. He could have easily guessed that Conrad would forget his obligations. "Do yeh always ferget yer promises this easily, Connie?" Luce asked. "Or is today jes' sumthin' special?" Luce considered Conrad's forgetfulness to have put him at an advantage, and he would use that advantage to make sure Conrad ended up naked for the portrait he was meant to be working on.

Promises? Conrad's hands loosened around the man's neck a little and his mouth fell open as he continued to stare back at Luce confused. He didn't exactly know what the man was getting at, and when he tried to think back to promising anything he was immediately met with the mental block of everything that had occurred just a few moments ago. Right now, his brain was filled with Luce forgiving him and what Conrad had done to appease the man in the first place. The idea of having Luce mad at him again because he couldn't remember was upsetting. So, the teenager did the only thing he could think of – he faked it.

"O-Ohh that promise...Yeah, I can...uhm...I can do that..." Conrad's eyes fell back on the couch as one of his hands left Luce's neck to tug at the bottom of his hoodie.

Luce was not an idiot, and might have been irritated that Conrad would ever think he could treat Luce as such. However, Conrad's little flirtation with dishonesty was about to blow up in his face. Luce could tell that Conrad wasn't connecting this promise to his much earlier agreement to draw Luce, and that he could therefore insist that the promise had been something else. The only way Conrad could prove Luce's assertion wrong was to admit that he had lied. "Stand up then, kiddo," Luce suggested. "An' start strippin'. Would yeh like me ter grab yer sketchbook, or are yeh gunna do that when yer set?"

Conrad blinked a few times, his face turning pink as the mans words sunk in. Strip? He didn't remember promising anything about that. Well...he didn't remember promising anything at all. To deny Luce's request meant that if he /had/ promised it, not only would Luce know he was lying about knowing, but he'd be breaking a promise too. "Sketchbook? O-Oh yeah...You can, uhm, go ahead and get it." Conrad bit at his bottom lip, hesitating a moment before releasing Luce's neck completely and sliding off his lap. He slid his pants and boxers the rest of the way down, shaking them off before unzipping his hoodie. That was shrugged off and thrown neatly over the couch, followed by his discarded pants. His shirt came off last and was neatly folded and set on top of his underwear. Those were then placed atop his pants before he turned back toward Luce, hugging an arm around his chest as his other hand moved lower to try and cover that part. He left his socks on, not really wanting to drag his bare feet across Luce's carpet.

Despite offering to fetch things, and despite Conrad accepting his offer, for the moment Luce remained where he was on the couch. If Conrad was not going to argue with his demand, he would at least sit around long enough to witness the show. It didn't really matter that Conrad wasn't trying to be sexy about it. In fact, it was probably better this way – at least in Luce's opinion. Only once Conrad was completely unclothed, no matter how embarrassed he might be about the fact, did Luce rise from the couch and move to fetch Conrad his sketchbook. Considering that Conrad was done and could have done this himself, it was a gesture – like Luce saying that he would still do this small thing, since Conrad had been reliable enough to do that other small thing for Luce. Before sitting back down, Luce offered the book to Conrad. "Ah'm thinkin' yeh migh' 'ave ter start over from th' sketch from yesterday. Yeh think?"

It hit Conrad too late that Luce was talking about his promise to finish the man's sketch. In all honesty, it should've hit him when Luce offered to go fetch his sketchpad for him, but the teenager had managed to somehow /not/ connect those dots. Not that it mattered much anyway. If Luce really wanted him naked, the teenager was sure that he would be, one way or another.

Still, the act of actually /being/ naked while Luce was happily fully clothed was a bit nerve wracking, and getting his sketchpad meant moving /one/ of his hands, which only added to the nerves. Conrad knew that Luce had seen him before, but some part of him still felt exposed like this, and he felt he owed it to himself to at least feign modesty.

The hand around his chest loosened and came forward, grabbing the book quickly before it was pressed back against the boy. Conrad tried not to think as he nodded, agreeing with what Luce said as the man sat back down. He half hoped Luce would let him put his clothes back on, now that he seemed a little more with the program.

"I-I should...the one from yesterday isn't very good..." He muttered, giving Luce a quick glance before his eyes were brought back to the carpet.

Luce did not add that attempting to continue the previous sketch would include him stripping down as well. He was well aware of the power dynamic implied by his being dressed when Conrad was not, and he liked it that way. Moreover, he was under the impression that Conrad had not gotten very far with the previous sketch, and maybe it wasn't anything to look at. But Conrad would /know/ that it had been meant to be a naked picture of Luce, and he could easily imagine Conrad keeping the thing on sentimental value alone. Luce would have kept a naked sketch of Conrad if it could conceivably function as a masturbatory aide. Conrad would keep a vague collection of lines on a piece of paper simply because the association with Luce gave him butterflies in his stomach.

"Yer th' artist," Luce agreed easily. "Would yeh like ter suggest a pose fer th' new sketch?" He shifted deliberately on the couch, an indication that he was placing himself at Conrad's disposal – in image, at least. "'Fraid Aye 'aven't anywhere much fer yeh ter sit." That was clearly a lie, but if Conrad wanted to sketch Luce on the couch, the most convenient perch was the floor.

Conrad shifted a little, moving his sketchpad down to cover himself before looking around the room for a solution. He could ask Luce to pose on the floor, but the artist side of him conceded that it wouldn't make for a very good picture. Conrad's eyes fell again on the carpet, a disgusted look coming over his face at the thought of his skin, his /bare/ skin, actually settling down into it. It was terrifyingly obvious that it was dirty, Luce probably felt the same way about vacuuming as he felt about laundry. The teenager gulped, his eyes looking back at Luce with his uncomfortable feelings clearly painted on his face.

"I-I could sit on one end of the couch...and draw you sitting at the other end?" Conrad suggested. He hadn't really wanted to draw Luce's portrait as...well, a /portrait/. Conrad wanted to draw the man's lean frame, his hands laying over his chest and the way his hip bones came out the top of his jeans. Conrad blushed at the thought, his eyes tracing over Luce as he thought about everything he'd like to capture in his drawing. This pose was less than ideal, but Conrad could get Luce's face, at least. The man's sharp features and eyes. Maybe he could ask Luce if he would smile, or even...do that smirk that he usually did. Conrad wouldn't mind drawing the man smirking.

He inched forward and plucked his glasses off the couch, situating them over his still-sore nose with one hand. The other was still clutching the sketchpad, which was still positioned low enough to keep the teenager from being more embarrassed than he already was.

Luce had already agreed, more or less, to whatever suggestion Conrad made regarding the posing. He found it a sad sort of charming that Conrad sounded so uncertain asking for something as simple as for Luce to sit a certain way. "Yer th' artist," he said again, as if this really was important – something he really did care about. It sort of was, in a way, but mostly in how it contributed to the small body of knowledge Luce had about the teenager. All of the details that might potentially be useful to him. He shifted backwards on the couch until he was against the arm rest, turning to face the place where Conrad would sit. He drew one leg up, knee bent, and rested an arm against it, the other still trailing off the edge of the couch to brace against the floor.

For Luce, it was comfortable enough. He enjoyed pain more so than just abject discomfort, so he wasn't especially keen on ending up in some configuration that would grow bothersome. This way, Conrad had a decent view of him, and he had a decent view of Conrad. /That/ was important, even though Luce could already tell that Conrad would do his damned best to cover himself with that sketchbook. He couldn't even object, because Conrad would be sketching in it, and as he was already establishing – the artist knew best. This was somehow as important in his head as his other rules. "The importance of begging" counter-balanced by "the importance of Conrad's art."

It was a calculated gesture, given because it was the obvious choice when Luce wished to select an area where Conrad would best enjoy a little encouragement. And yet it was a nice thing all the same.

Conrad's nerves started to yield a little to Luce's repeated phrase that /he/ was the artist. It made it feel somehow professional, despite his current state. He watched the older man situate himself, realizing that he would have to take his place at the other end of the couch now. Which meant he would have to move his sketchpad and use it to actually sketch, as opposed to keeping what little dignity he had in place. Conrad moved towards the edge of the couch, sitting down slowly, backwards and one leg at a time, his eyes still on Luce. He tried to figure out the most comfortable way to sit, without showing off too much. Sitting on his knees seemed hard to do without actually lowering his hand and adjusting himself first; which was out of the question. He ended up shifting a few times, half considering sitting indian-style and keeping his sketchpad between his legs. He decided not to when he realized it meant hunching over to draw and that he would actually have his legs spread, despite the book covering him up.

Conrad finally gave in and settled into a somewhat uncomfortable position on his knees after shyly reaching a hand behind the sketchpad to adjust himself so that he could bring his legs together without much of a problem. His legs were already starting to feel a little cramped though, mostly because he'd been in this position a while now. Standing had helped, but Conrad was already feeling the need to stretch out on the couch. His eyes lowered to his sketchpad as he held it out a little and flipped it open to an empty page, still keeping it low enough to cover himself. "You can...uhm, make whatever expression you want. Just be...uhm, n-natural." Conrad muttered, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and pride at sounding somewhat like an actual artist.

Luce was already comfortable, so he calmly watched Conrad adjusting himself on the couch as if trying to get comfortable. He was sure the main reason from it was Conrad's dubious modesty. "So long as yer comf'terble," he commented, deliberately modulating out his usual confrontational tone. He imagined that genuine concern – or the appearance of it – for Conrad's comfort would get under his skin better with all of that modesty bullshit. And after Conrad suggested he be natural, Luce couldn't help smirking a little, unknowingly providing the exact expression Conrad wished to sketch. "Are yeh gunna talk t' yer model this time, Connie?" he asked, still conversationally. He supposed he could try to let Conrad concentrate, but the opportunity to prod at him a little was simply too tempting.

Conrad pulled his pencil out of the spiral holding his sketchpad together, clicking it a few times before glancing up at the man then quickly down at the page with a smile. Luce was making the expression he'd wanted, and he didn't want to miss his chance to capture the man's face this way. He drew a quick line, his eyes darting from Luce back to the paper in quick succession as he drew Luce's smirk first, sketching a shape for the mans face around it.

"Hm? O-Oh yeah...We can...talk." Conrad mumbled, his eyes still moving and the pencil still bobbing in his hand, being flipped around between fingers every so often so that Conrad could erase a line or two that shouldn't be there.

As he got more involved in the drawing, his nerves at being naked began to lessen, his brow furrowing in concentration as he struggled to get the exact shape of the older mans head just right.

"This isn't...ugh, hold on, don't move." Conrad's tone wasn't exactly commanding, more like somewhat desperate for Luce to remain in that exact spot. Particularly because Conrad thought it brought the man's features out in a pleasing way. Not that he would ever /tell/ Luce, unless he wanted to get made fun of. But Conrad could appreciate, as he was sketching, that Luce truly wasn't bad to look at or be touched by, and in a way the teenager thought of himself as somewhat lucky.

For a little while, Luce just watched the movement of Conrad's pencil over the top of the sketchpad. He couldn't see what Conrad was actually doing, but well... He /was/ a recreational drug user and it didn't matter that he wasn't high right then, he could sort of appreciate the motion of the pencil, like it was something hypnotic. Conrad said they'd talk, but Luce could tell the kid wasn't paying any attention. He should perhaps ask Conrad if he liked drawing dicks, something lewd, just to verify.

"Aye wasn' movin' t' start wiv," Luce pointed out, not exactly venomously, but in a way that might indicate that he thought it was a pretty stupid request. The desire to actually obtain this picture – something that had lodged in Luce's brain, obstinately – was warring with any desires to fuck with Conrad while he was trying to draw. It'd be fun to say embarrassing things and see how much he could make Conrad blush, while Conrad was in essence trapped, and yet he wasn't doing it.

"I know you weren't, I was just-y'know. It's an expression. Or something. Just...hold on." Conrad leaned forward a little more, actually lifting his sketchpad up a bit as he continued to move his eyes from the man back to the sketch. He had Luce's head shaped right and now he was trying to draw the man's eyes. Which, of course, meant Conrad was constantly locking eyes with Luce, trying to make sure he got every detail correct. Luce had...particular eyes. Conrad wasn't particularly interested in getting the shape right, though he would simply because he was a perfectionist; he wanted to get the /feel/ of Luce's eyes right. He'd seen pictures, portraits, where feelings, emotions, all sorts of things were conveyed in someone's eyes simply by putting pencil to paper. He wasn't exactly sure what it was about Luce's eyes, but Conrad wanted to draw them the way he felt about them. He wanted them to make him want to stop and stare, the way Luce's actual eyes did. When Conrad could bring himself to make contact with them. Right now, however, he didn't seem to have his usual problems, so he kept his eyes glued to Luce's repeatedly as he drew them.

Luce chuckled a little, but then settled back into the mental transitive state that was being drawn. As with the motion of Conrad's pencil, the way Conrad would look straight at him and then deliberately away – although not with embarrassment, not in this situation – was something novel at first. But then Luce grew used to it, and his interest flagged again. He raised his eyebrows suggestively once, without even changing expressions because this pretty much was his eyebrow-waggling face, but again the need to contribute to a sketch he would /want/ to have on his wall. It would be narcissistic as hell no matter the quality, and Luce was enough of a self-centered fuck to like that fact. "Awright mister artist," he said, in an even tone like this wasn't any big deal. "Wot kinda frame would yer more refined sensibilities recommend?"

Conrad's own eyebrows raised when Luce's did, though his was more out of surprise. He looked at the man a little longer than usual, his face relaxing for a moment before his eyes were back on his sketchpad and his expression was serious again. Luce's question hit his ears and the pencil stopped.

"Y-You're...framing it?" Conrad muttered uncertainly, his eyes coming back up to stare incredulously at Luce. The man hadn't said it in a joking tone, but Conrad still found it hard to find him sincere. Plus...Conrad liked the way this sketch was coming out and kind of wanted to keep it.

Luce had intended to put Conrad off-balance, but it was also true that he wasn't joking. He'd put the sketch in a frame, slap it on the wall, and if anyone other than Lamont ever made it into his apartment to ask about it, would likely spin a new yarn explaining where the sketch had come from every time. He'd enjoy it, too. It would be a conversation piece, and he knew it would also be an eternal embarrassment to Conrad, seeing it there every time Luce spirited him up here. In fact, the question of whether Conrad would feel more pride or mortification was quite the interesting one. Perhaps he'd see it answered in the future – as soon as he had a frame.

"Yeh doan' really think anythin' would last long on these walls otherwise, do yeh?" Luce asked, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. "Rest of th' place is quite bachelor-chic an' all so yeh prob'ly doan' wan' ter pick anythin' too pretentious." Still like this was an adult, serious conversation. About decorating advice.

"O-On the wall? You want to put it up on the wall?" Conrad's voice was coming out a little louder now, the pencil slack in his hand and the sketchpad not held quite so tightly. He'd also leaned back up, his back straight as he regarded the older man from behind his glasses.

"Wh-Why would you want to hang it up? Where everyone else can..y'know, /see/ it. I was just...going to finish it and show you then just...keep it in my sketchpad." Conrad explained, not really expecting it to change Luce's mind. Conrad glanced around the bare walls of the apartment, wondering what would make Luce want to suddenly grace them with a hand-drawn picture of himself.

"Yeh got a better place fer me ter put a framed picture?" Luce asked, like it was a reasonable question and not something obnoxious. Honestly, where the fuck else would he put it? "Yeh must not've understood when Aye told yeh Aye wanted a sketch. Wot Aye meant by tha' was... Fer me. Fuck, Connie, wot else am Aye gunna do wiv it?" Luce didn't miss Conrad glancing around at the walls, but he chose to assume that Conrad was considering exactly where Luce would put the picture, and he hadn't decided himself. Decorating was not his thing. He didn't consider his walls to be something to look at, they were just a necessary part of having an apartment. He wasn't even putting the picture up as something to look at – a conversation piece was for starting conversation, not for him to gaze upon. And, well, if he wanted to look at a picture of himself every so often? Then so fucking be it. Luce would rather have the sketch than actual photos of himself; family photos and the farce that they were had given him a heavy bias against such things.

Conrad's eyes were back on Luce's again, continuing to stare dumbfounded at the man.

"I-I don't know...I just..didn't think that you'd want to hang up anything that...y'know, /I/ drew. It's not very good..." Conrad's voice trailed off at the end, and he shifted a little. His legs were starting to hurt and he felt the need to stand up. But, of course, that would mean actually moving and drawing attention to the fact that he was still naked.

"I guess...if you really want to hang it up.." Conrad glanced back down at the drawing that he /used/ to like, but since Luce's admission of what he planned to do with the thing, Conrad was noticing all sorts of flaws in the picture. "I would get...I suppose just a simple wooden frame. Maybe...dark-coloured wood, or something." Conrad didn't know /that/ much about decorating, but he had picked up a few of his mother's magazines out of boredom and thumbed through them.

"'Ey," Luce said, with a bit of a warning note, but not actual irritation. "Yer th' artist. Yer not th' art critic, so finish wot yeh started afore yeh try an' tear it ter pieces. Aye believe th' line is 'we are all our own worst critic'?" Luce slipped into snide while he was parroting that trite piece of wisdom, and it was at once sticking with the assertion that Conrad's art was worthwhile while also showing his utter distaste for Conrad's attitude.

It was likely hypocritical that he thoroughly enjoyed Conrad's self esteem being in the toilet when it got him what he wanted, but every other time it started to play on Luce's last nerve to the point where he really did want to build Conrad up just so that fact wouldn't be so fucking annoying. He didn't especially care if he was a hypocrite.

"Hope yeh like yer choice, Connie," Luce continued, in a somewhat kinder tone. "Yer gunna be lookin' at it an awful lot." Looking at it because Luce knew Conrad would stare every time he came in. Looking at it because Luce was kind of, in a way, admitting that he intended to bring Conrad back, and back again, and so many times more after that. His usual flippant attitude wanted to say he'd get bored eventually, cut Conrad loose. The sinking suspicion that in forty-eight hours he had already conditioned his dick to twitch in interest at the words "pretty please" uttered in Conrad's voice said otherwise.

Conrad blushed, his mouth opening slightly at Luce's words. A compliment? Or...at least some kind of disapproval of Conrad putting his own art down. Conrad smiled a little, nodding at Luce's statement as his pencil picked up again and he started back drawing.

No sooner had he started crosshatching in the mans hairline, Conrad's pencil paused again. He glanced back up at Luce, his expression shocked, but that small smile still present on his lips.

"O-Okay..." He muttered, turning his face back towards the picture and continuing to sketch. He didn't mind so much, now, that Luce was keeping this picture. Or that he wanted to frame it and hang it up. He was still nervous about other people seeing it, of course, but the fact that Luce actually made an open comment about Conrad being around more made him happy.

His legs were still somewhat sore from being sat on for so long, and Conrad began to realize that if he was going to sit and do a picture that was good enough to be hung on the wall, he might have to move eventually. It occurred to him that he could probably turn sideways, hang his legs over the couch and draw Luce that way by just turning to look at him. There was, however, a small flaw in his plan – being that he was still nude and sitting that way would mean Luce would easily have a view of /all/ of him. Conrad fidgeted again, deciding to deal with the soreness until he could think up a better way to sit, or until Luce got tired of him being naked and let him put his clothes back on...whichever came first.