Quietly he sat on the ground and settled his wooden board on his lap. With great care Angelus set the paper up and arranged his charcoal and pastels to the side before picking up a graphite pencil and sketched the bridge before him.
The Seine lapped against the west bank as it slowly ambled through Paris. Angelus faintly heard the sounds of nightlife crossing the Alexander III bridge, but he tuned the wanderers out. His focus not on food but on the scene before him, he planned out in his mind's eye what he wanted to draw. The idyllic view spread before him reminding him of the most recent dream about Leannán.
It had been so vivid and erotic that he'd come here to this spot to recreate the dream with her in charcoal and pastel.
The drooping willows whispered around him and he grinned leeringly to himself recalling just what they'd done in that dream right here where he was sitting. Angelus had taken to making a dream diary of sorts, not wanting to forget the exploits he and her had done during the day. Every entry contained a visual more erotic than the last, more sensual and disquieting in its aftermath.
At last, he preceded to finally sketch the characters that had scandalized the Parisians by fucking wildly beneath the very willow he was resting against. Angelus began on the graceful curve of her hips, gesturing the line of her arched back, along the shape of her out stretched arms.
Next he worked steadily on his own person. First where his hands gripped her hips, slamming her onto his erect prick. Then he filled in his sitting posture, completing the pose by outlining in his steely thighs, that held Leannán embraced between his legs.
Double checking the proportions Angelus fixed a minor fault in the breadth of his chest before quickly plumping the figures up.
Leannán's breasts were lovingly detailed to the pebbled perfections he knew them to be. Slightly raised, lifting in an passionate offering because of her upraised arms, he lightly shadowed underneath them. The shadows of her lean stomach darkened her indented navel, revealing the coiling muscles subtly. Her hair curled around the ground gracefully in their rumpled state, trailing over her arms and his feet.
Following the same pattern, Angelus worked on the tightly bunched muscles of his stomach and thighs, fluidly creating the illusion of him grinding into her welcoming sopping core. What left of his fingers visible around the forefront thigh were shadowed to look as if they were straining as he used her supple form as leverage to thrust harder and deeper into her.
Angelus created the smooth line of his buttocks and naked back swiftly, and even swifter the masculine lines of his own face in vampiric visage. The delicate features of her face he meticulously drew, basking in the almost desperate look on her face, her eyes closed as if the sight before her too pleasurable to look upon for long, her teeth biting into her lower lip as the sensations within her busted in her veins.
The easiest part came in last. He picked up his pastels and went about coloring life into her and the willow using washed out colors for Alexander III and himself, lifeless vibrancy.