(no subject)

[pylades_drunk]

The thing about painting is that it involves preparation. At least, the way Grantaire has been trained to do it: powdered pigment mixed into a binder and a solvent. He hasn't forgotten Tunny's offer to remind him he's short on canvas: hopefully Tunny hasn't either.

So, even as restless and wired as he feels right now, patience is asked for, and with it forethought, which he is happy to entertain in detail about his potential medium. He fills a couple of small vials and throws them into a messenger bag he rescued from a war with the clothes box.

R heads over to the tattoo shop to see if he's around and knocks on the frame. Any anxiousness he might have had has settled into a kind of playfulness, and he's smiling as he leans.

Comments

[rage_andlove]

Tunny had just been finishing packing up for the day and, when he sees who's standing in the doorway, he busts into a big grin.

"Hey," he says, wandering closer. "What do you need?"

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire grins back and takes a step to close the distance even further.

"Well, you, actually," he says, with a little eyebrow raise, feeling a little shameless, and lets that hang there for a second. "I had this sudden inspiration to paint and as it turns out, I'm all out of canvas. Think you might be able to help?"

[rage_andlove]

Remembering the conversation that they' ha the other ay, Tunny rolls his eyes before breaking into a grin.

"Sure. The girls are on a playdate - I've got nowhere else to be. Don't know how much blank space you're goin' to find on me though, man."

[pylades_drunk]

"I had no idea," R deadpans and grins. "I'm adaptable," he assures him and reaches to touch the star on the side of his neck.

[rage_andlove]

"Then I'm all yours," says Tunny, with a lazy grin. "Whatever you want."

[pylades_drunk]

"Good," Grantaire says with a smile, and leans in to kiss him, brief but intent, hand still on his neck.

When he pulls back he chews on his lip and looks at Tunny. "Let's start with shirt off and we can go from there."

[rage_andlove]

Taking a step backwards into the room, Tunny tugs his t-shirt over his head, letting it drop to the boards. He folds his arms over his bare chest and gives Grantaire an expectant look.

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire watches him appreciatively and smirks a little at the instinctive waiting for instruction.

He's indecisive for a moment over whether Tunny lying down or standing up is a better idea. "Go lie down," he says after a minute, because as much as it appeals to be able to move all the way around him, it's less practical, "and get comfortable."

[rage_andlove]

He loves the faintly authoritative note that comes into Grantaire's voice when they're together like this and he's perfectly happy to go with it. He goes to the bed and settles down on his back, knees bent.

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire smiles, follows him lazily, sets the messenger bag down by the bed and rifles through it, pulling out a few things he'll need -- a couple little jars of the paint he's mixed up, a brush, the basics. He puts them down and starts out sitting on his knees next to Tunny on the bed, raising an eyebrow."I'm sure there's something I should be saying about having to prime you first." He grins. "But most canvases don't start out looking so nice." He pops the lid off one of the jars and dips a brush.

(Green, because that's the first color that comes into his head for Tunny. The near-viridian of his eyes and the details of the snake on his arm and sitting in the grass watching girls made of springtime. It fits.)

He paints a long stripe down Tunny's chest, curving to echo muscle, trace ribs, pressing the brush wide and pulling it back into the air again abuptly, the line tapering off. It's bright and viney against his skin and Grantaire smiles, watching him.

[rage_andlove]

It tickles a little and Tunny draws in a soft breah, his eyelashes fluttering as he tries not to squirm.

"Colder than I thought it was going to be," he says, by way of explanation.

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire chews on the inside of his lip, watching him.

"Well," he says, slowly, grinning a little, dipping the brush again and starting what might be a leaf off the side of the first line, across his stomach, "I didn't warm up my paints for the occasion, it's true." He adds some shading with little flicked strokes of the brush, instinctively leaning in as he details.

[rage_andlove]

"The girls would love this," he says, lifting his head, wondering if he really ought to be talking about his kids at a time like this. "The green, I mean. They love painting - green's their favourite colour. Neil told me that their mom used to make things grow. The house we live in, that big tree in the garden, the silver one? That got here when she did, more or less."

[pylades_drunk]

"Your girls have good taste in colors." Grantaire grins, content, mixing some white into the green to change shades. There's a part of him that feels like he should be concerned he's being boring, but he's not: just honestly happy to be invited into Tunny's head. "I'd like to see their paintings sometime."

"That's beautiful, the house. Imagine being able to create like that." He thinks of childlike painting and reaches across to push the latest bit into branches with his fingers.

Impulsively, he shifts to straddle Tunny's waist and drags the branches into fractals up to his collarbone with his fingers. "I do have to say I'm enjoying having you to myself right now, though." It's not a cue to shut up, just honesty.

[rage_andlove]

"You've got me," Tunny says, lifting one hand, idly tracing his fingers along the length of Grantaire's thigh, tracing the shape of his knee cap. "Right here. Just you."

[pylades_drunk]

There's something to that, Tunny's hands and his easy assurance that makes Grantaire's breath catch a little, and he leans down on impulse to kiss him, paint covered fingers spread to brace between them.

It's slow and a little possessive and he pulls back just long enough to shed his own shirt because who cares.

[rage_andlove]

The kiss is good and bare skin is better. Tunny wraps his arms around Grantaire and pulls him in close, completely oblivious to the wet paint between them.

[pylades_drunk]

The paint's slick and cold against his skin with Tunny warm beneath that, and Grantaire rocks forward to press against him, sliding his hand up against his neck to kiss him more deeply, more, his other hand finding purchase on his hip.

[rage_andlove]

His body pinned by Grantaire's weight on top of him, Tunny's hips ride up as much as he can manage, his fingers pushing into Grantaire's hair to hold him to the kiss.

[pylades_drunk]

He makes a soft sound against Tunny's mouth at the hand in his hair, the press of his hips, and rolls his hips down against him a little. It's not as if he has to be encouraged: he's happy to just stay like this, but it's better, tugged close.

[rage_andlove]

He nips at Grantaire's lip as they kiss, using the edges of his teeth. His free hand skims over Grantaire's shoulder. When the kiss breaks, he's grinning.

"I want you to fuck my brains out."

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire grins, breathless.

"Do you?" He arches an eyebrow lazily, but he doesn't feel like he's ever wanted to live up to a request quite so much.

It means moving, maybe.

The shape of his hand is still green on Tunny's neck, and he likes it. Reaching back to capture his wrists, he presses him down against the bed in one quick movement, grinds hard against him to kiss him, moving down to mark a spot on his collarbone just below the paint. Below t-shirts, if he wants, but harder to wash away than paint.

"I want to fuck you until you forget your own name," he says in French, against Tunny's neck, and grins, kissing the spot before shifting sideways.

[rage_andlove]

"You always make me want to do dirty fuckin' things," he says, squirming back up against him, flexing his fingers. "God, just fuck me. Whatever you want."

[pylades_drunk]

"You should really tell me about that," Grantaire suggests, grinning and biting at his shoulder. He has to drag himself away, releasing Tunny to dig in the drawer, possibly in record time.

"I think you might be wearing too many clothes," he points out, sliding back next to him and dragging a hand down Tunny's stomach to the waist of his jeans.

[rage_andlove]

"You're absolutely right," says Tunny, starting to fumble out of his pants. "I don't even care how you fuck me as long as we both feel good. However you want."

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire's already stripping out of his, watching Tunny darkly. Jeans coming off is like a puzzle and a relief; he's hard already just from kissing, listening to him.

"I want you. Here, now," he says, "I want to be inside you. That's what I want." Details of what to do where seem irrelevant in the face of that. He shifts half-over him as Tunny finishes undressing, moving his free hand down to circle and stroke his cock. Because details probably aren't irrelevant, he says, "I want to see your face when you come." There's a part of him that's a little nervous, saying that, but right now he's past caring.