This chapter was inspired by the song 'An Architect's Dream' by Kate Bush.
An Architect's Dream
Canada bent over the canvas tucked in the cradle of his crossed legs. The paintbrush was smooth in his hand and flecked with old paint. He caressed the canvas with the bristles and watched a flourish of blue dance across the painting.
Prussia was tangled in the blankets and pillows of their bed, sleeping. He was laid open.
The sunlight sneaking through the curtains caught on his bare chest and left leg. It highlighted the pink of his nipples and the purple bruises of their passionate sex. It swept over the fine silver hairs covering his privates.
He was beautiful in his exhaustion. Honest and exposed. Naked.
Canada smiled to himself and added another stroke, making sure to follow the contours of his subject. He was an accomplished artist, after centuries of practice, but he wondered if he would ever be able to truly capture Prussia in any medium.
Oil or ink or watercolour, it was impossible. Prussia was meant to be free; he could not be captured, in any sense of the word.
But that did not stop Canada from trying.
He smudged the paint with his fingertips. He wanted to soften the edges. He wanted to showcase the vulnerability of the scene.
"What are you doing?" Prussia yawned, opening his eyes and struggling to untangle himself. Canada pushed him back down with one hand from where he sat at the foot of the bed.
"Go back to sleep, Gilbert," Canada whispered, rinsing his paintbrush and choosing a new, lighter shade of blue. "I'm painting."
Prussia blinked, confused, and ruffled his hair. It stuck up in all directions and danced in the sunlight. Canada pursed his lips and resisted the urge to run his fingers through it. He focused on the canvas in front of him.
"Are… Are you painting me?"
Canada looked up.
"Not yet."
He leaned forward and touched the paintbrush to Prussia's nose. The pale blue stood out against his pale complexion.
Prussia made a face and rubbed at his nose. He smeared the paint onto his cheek.
"I didn't mean it literally," he huffed. Canada chuckled and set his canvas to the side. He crawled over Prussia and straddled his hips, just as naked and just as excited to see the other nation. He swept the paintbrush over his chest and circled one of his nipples.
Prussia sighed and arched his back.
"Then you should have been more specific."
Canada settled the paintbrush in the dip of his bellybutton before trailing lower with enthusiasm. He marked his territory.
"That's quite a lot of…" Prussia's breath hitched. "'Artistic talent' you have there."
"But of course."
Canada turned his attention to his shoulders and painted whorls and drifting lines along his collarbone. Canada pressed down with his hips and with his hands and claimed what was his.
Prussia gasped.
He smudged paint along his sides with trembling fingers. He traced his hipbones. The pale blue paint climbed up his own thighs and anywhere else that Prussia was touching him.
It was overwhelming. It was perfect.
Prussia reached for the paintbrush and pried it from his hands. He tossed it over his head and it landed on the canvas with a soft sound. Canada found that he did not mind the newest stroke, the latest stain; their most brilliant mistake. It completed the painting.
Prussia kissed up his arm, leaving a trail of painted blue kisses in his wake.
Canada looked down at him, rocking his hips in time with the other nation, and admired his greatest masterpiece.
Author's Notes:
This is not terribly long but I really like it. It's very… Sensual, I suppose? I like the atmosphere. I just really, really like it. I tried to keep the sexual aspect of it vague without sacrificing the intimacy of their relationship.
I've posted a couple of pieces influenced by Kate Bush, but I love her, so sue me. This song is very sensuous and demonstrative. And yet, somehow gentle.
