In Some Other Existence

Anonymous: 19 and Deamus, please and thank you!
(19. "The paint's supposed to go where?")

Originally posted July 20, 2015, on tumblr

7: Sunburst

Seamus glanced down at the address on the piece of paper in his hand and back up at the apartment building. This seemed to be the right place, and his heartbeat sped up a little as he walked up and buzzed apartment 14.

"Hello?" a voice said. Despite the grainy intercom, Seamus recognized the voice to be the same one he'd talked to on the phone after answering the ad. Apparently he was taking a photography course, and the final project was to have a photo shoot with a human model that also combined a medium of art that they're more comfortable with.

"Uh, yeah, it's Seamus?" he said awkwardly. "I answered yer ad."

"Oh! Great, yeah, come on up."

The door clicked and Seamus let himself inside, cursing his best friend Lavender with each step he took up the stairs. Maybe the guy didn't even want a model, maybe he just wanted new skin to add to his collection of human skins. Maybe he wanted to harvest Seamus' teeth. Maybe he wanted to steal Seamus' liver and feed it to his man-eating parakeet. Who knew?

The ad had been so vague too: "Artist seeking model for photo shoot, preferably male/flat-chested person. Must be comfortable with paint." Lavender had found it and dared him to do it, and since he owed her for accidentally setting her girlfriend Parvati's skirt on fire when they'd met last week, he complied.

Seamus made it up to apartment 14, took a breath, and knocked. The door opened and he was met with a wide expanse of chest, then looked up and met a pair of sparkling brown eyes. Christ, the guy had to be at least a foot taller than him.

"My, you're short," the guy - Dean, he remembered - said in greeting.

"Sorry?" Seamus said.

"It's not a problem. Come in, come in," he said, stepping aside.

Seamus shuffled into the apartment, which was small but surprisingly open. Actually, the living room was open. Everything else was crowded. The kitchen was overflowing with dishes and left out food. The door to the bedroom at the other end was open, and Seamus could barely see the bed. The couch was covered with stacks of canvases, and the end table held pots filled with brushes and other supplies. Artwork hung all over the walls.

The rest of the living room, however, was covered in a tarp and a canvas hung on the far wall, painted in a messy interpretation of the night sky, with dark blues and blacks and purples swirling around each other, speckled with stars. A camera stood on a tripod near the window.

Nervousness suddenly flooded Seamus and his mouth went dry.

"Um, listen, I, uh…'m not a model, I just answered yer ad on a dare. I - I - "

He turned around to see Dean holding a pair of loose orange pants out to him.

"What're those?" he asked nervously.

"Pants," Dean answered calmly, a crooked smile twitching at his lips. God he was gorgeous. "So if you're not a model, why'd you answer the ad?"

"Like I said, a dare."

"You could've backed out."

"Yeah, well, I set her girlfriend on fire last week, so…"

Dean laughed loudly, surprising him. "So you owed her?"

Seamus grinned. "Yeah, pretty much. Plus, she thought it'd get me laid."

He froze, eyes snapping down to the floor as heat flushed all over his face and down his neck. He couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud.

"Well, that can be taken care of later," Dean said finally.

Seamus looked up at him, eyes wide. Dean was watching him with an amused smile.

"So, shall we get started?" Dean asked, offering the pants again.

"I - ye still want me to be yer model?" he asked.

"Sure," Dean said, then gave Seamus a long, appraising look up and down his body. "I think you'll be great."

Seamus felt like he was on fire - which wouldn't be unusual around him - and he reached out with a clammy hand to take the pants.

"You can use the bathroom to change. No shoes or shirt, only the pants. I'll be out here," Dean told him.

Seamus nodded dumbly and turned around to enter the tiny bathroom. The mirror had tiny dried paint dots on it. Between the hygiene supplies and random charcoals and erasers there was zero space on the tiny counter aside from the sink, so Seamus set his clothes on the toilet seat. He looked hard at himself in the mirror and tried to stop blushing, but that made him redder. So he messed his hair up a little, took a steadying breath, and then went back out.

"Amazing," Dean said when he saw him, eyes lighting up with excitement when he saw Seamus, which cause him to blush again.

Seamus rubbed his arms and smiled. "Now what?"

"So the project is called Sunburst," Dean explained as he picked up a couple small buckets of paint. "Here we have a night canvas, but you are going to be the sunburst, hence the pants. Your hair is actually perfect for this, too. Anyway, after I put the paint on you, we'll just take some pictures, kay?"

"Sure," he said, nodding. Then he paused. "Wait, the paint's s'posed to go where?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "On you. All over your chest, arms, back, some on your face, and maybe a bit in your hair, too."

Must be comfortable with paint.

"Are you okay with that?" Dean asked. "It's all safe body paint and it washes out easily."

"Oh, um, yeah, I guess. Just never been painted on 's all."

"Well it's a bit cold and tickles some, but it's fun," Dean said. "So, we good?"

Seamus swallowed and nodded. "Sure, what the hell."

They moved over to the canvased floor and Seamus stood there awkwardly while Dean popped open a can of yellow paint. He dipped a wide fanned brush in and then held it up to Seamus' chest.

"Ready?" Dean asked.

Seamus nodded. Dean held his eye contact as he gently put the brush against Seamus' left collarbone and dragged it down across his chest. Seamus gasped and shivered a bit, goosebumps appearing on his arms.

Dean smiled and chuckled, breaking eye contact to pick up the paint can. He proceeded to lay huge streaks of yellow all over Seamus' body, glancing up at him every now and then. He moved along Seamus' arms and face, then around to his back. Dean stood so close to him that he could feel his breath on his bare skin, and honestly the goosebumps were only partially due to the paint and mostly due to the looks that Dean kept giving him.

After a while Dean set the yellow down and opened up a can of vivid orange, just a few shades darker than the pants. To Seamus' surprise, he dipped his fingers into it.

"This okay?" he asked, his voice low.

Seamus couldn't summon his ability to speak, so he just nodded. Then Dean pressed his hand on Seamus' lower back and pulled it around up over his hips, leaving streaks of orange in his wake. He repeated the process along his shoulders, arms, back. Fingers pushed and pulled all over his skin, feeling almost more intimate than sex.

Dean faced him again and danced his fingers along Seamus' jawline, then dragged them down his neck, eyes burning into Seamus'. Then he reached up and tugged his fingers through Seamus' hair, eliciting a groan from him. He cursed himself, thinking that Dean would make fun of him or that he'd made it weird, but Dean just gave him a sly grin and went to grab a red can.

Seamus felt a twinge of disappointment when Dean picked up a short smudging brush to paint the red on with. Dean started on his face, smudging red down from his right eyebrow, over his eyelid, across his nose to his left cheek. Then, to Seamus' pleasure, Dean used his fingers to smear it some. He repeated the process over Seamus' body, smudging out swirls and bursts, then using his fingers to smear them out the way he wanted, and deposited some red into Seamus' hair.

The last color was purple, and Dean used a thin brush for this. His fingers couldn't achieve the delicate lines and swirls he wanted. He painted long lines up over Seamus' hip, then a swirl over his chest, and more dots and lines on the right shoulder. He dipped the brush in and then flicked it, leaving tiny purple dots scattered across his skin. Then he drew a line extending down from Seamus' eye and ended in a swirl. Purple dusted the ends of Seamus' hair, and his lips were outlined in red and purple.

"The painting's done," Dean said huskily, then shook his head and cleared his throat. "Um, just, uh…stand in front of the canvas. I'll wash my hands."

Seamus nodded and walked over to the canvas as Dean retreated to the bathroom. He heard the sink turn on and wondered what in the hell was happening. The air had definitely been charged between them just now, and earlier, after Seamus had said Lavender wanted him to get laid, Dean was amused and maybe interested. And Dean had just had his hands all over him. The proof was in the paint.

He looked down at his paint covered hands and arms and laughed. Lavender would have a cow if she could see him. He considered getting his phone from his jeans pocket so he could snap a picture, then he laughed as a voice said, Ye're about to get a ton of pictures taken.

"Okay," Dean said, emerging from the bathroom, and Seamus turned around to face him. "I know you've never modeled, but honestly the most important thing is to not half-ass it. If you're going to bend over, then bend over and mean it, y'know? Like I said, this is Sunburst, so I need energy. Intensity. Wildness. You get me?"

Seamus nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'll do me best."

Dean smiled. "Great. I'll give you tips and some poses, but it's mostly up to you."

"Aye aye, captain."

Dean laughed and raised the camera. "Action," he whispered.

For the first couple of minutes, Seamus felt like a complete fool. He over-analyzed every movement he made, every position he put himself in. Did his hand look weird like this, did he look awkward, was the paint flaking off? But Dean was patient with him, encouraging him when he made good poses, giving tips to make shots better, and Seamus started to feel more comfortable and confident with what he was doing.

The camera click click click-ed away, and Seamus loved it. It meant Dean's eyes were on him every second, zooming and analyzing and capturing. He moved his hand. Click. He tilted his head. Click. He arched his back. Click.

How long had they been at this? Seamus couldn't tell. The minutes bled away with every click of the camera. He did still poses with his eyes radiating intensity, strong poses with his chin lifted high and jaw clenched. He did wild poses with his hands in his hair and his mouth wide open like he was screaming or laughing or both. He turned his back and stuck his arms straight above his head, fingers splayed wide. He looked over his shoulder and twisted his body.

"A few more, okay?" Dean said, looking at him with a kind of frenzied hunger. Seamus wasn't sure if it was due to himself or Dean's love of art, but he loved it either way. He hoped it was both, though.

"Sure," Seamus said with a grin, then turned his back on the camera. He turned his head to the right, bringing his left arm up above his head and tangling his fingers in his hair, and wrapping his right arm around his stomach so his fingers gripped his waist. He looked into the camera with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Click click click.

He faced forward and pulled on the skin of his forehead with his left hand, and dragged his fingers over his stomach with the right. He twisted his body, letting his teeth bare like he was something wild just barely contained inside a body. Click click click.

Final shot. He closed his eyes and extended his arms out from his sides, fingers straining to touch oblivion. He tiled his head back and let his mouth fall open, a soft groan escaping his lips as he did so. Seamus inhaled and tried to let the energy flow through him, filling his small body until he was larger than life. Every nerve in his body felt alive and electric. Click click cl - thump.

Seamus opened his eyes in confusion only to see Dean striding toward him, only inches away. Automatically, he raised his already extended arms so they wrapped around Dean's shoulders as Dean put one arm around his waist and the other under his arms, lifting him as their mouths collided. He felt Dean's short curly hair under his fingers, his tongue next to his. This was the most passionate thing he'd ever experienced; it was art and love and sex all rolled into one fantastic kiss.

Dean set him down and kissed him again before pulling away and resting his forehead against Seamus'.

"You taste like paint," Dean whispered with a laugh.

"Ye taste like heaven," Seamus whispered back.

"Also you're really short."

"Well ye're too tall," Seamus replied, going up on his tiptoes to kiss him again.

Dean smiled against his lips and pulled away, then looked down at him and swallowed. "So, um, I got everything that I wanted," he said, gesturing to the camera, which he'd deposited on the only open spot on the couch.

"Everything?" Seamus pressed, stepping into Dean's space again.

"Ah, um, wuh…" Dean stuttered, biting his lip. Seamus could see flecks of paint on his skin and he smiled. "You can use the shower if you want."

Seamus smiled to himself; seemed like he was the confident one now. So he walked away from Dean toward the bathroom, then turned around when he was halfway there and looked at Dean expectantly.

"Aren't ye going to help?" Seamus asked, playing with the hem of the pants, then tugging one side down to reveal the top of his thigh. Thank God Dean had bought stretchy pants.

Dean stared, his mouth agape, and then met Seamus' challenging stare.

"Well?" Seamus prompted, slowly slipping the pants up to where they belonged as he took a step backward.

"Y-Yes, yeah, yes, I can do that," Dean said, a grin on his face and his long legs striding forward.

Seamus laughed and turned to run for the bathroom as Dean chased him, throwing off his own clothes as he went.