↱MUSE↲ ⇾seongjoong⇽

✎𝓉𝑒𝓃

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Hongjoong's breath quickens the moment Seonghwa's brush touches his bare back.

He's lying on his stomach, sprawled out on a tarp with his chin resting on his forearms.

"You doing ok?" Seonghwa prompts from his side where he sits cross-legged with a palette in one hand and a brush in the other.

Hongjoong makes a small noise of assurance, grimacing as Seonghwa makes another long stroke, spreading the paint across his skin.

It doesn't feel bad, just strange— cold, wet, and ticklish, making his flesh tingle with every movement.

Trying to lie still, he closes his eyes and listens to Seonghwa at work.

He's still not entirely sure why he suggested this but he's not backing out now.

Wooyoung was right; he either faced his fear and learned the certain truth about himself or he could run forever, always finding solace in the wrong places.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, this body painting thing, but now that Seonghwa had him half-dressed and prone on the floor, it reminded Hongjoong of the way he had felt when they kissed: wildly out of control, small, and increasingly pliant under the older's gaze.

He feels much the same way now, anticipating every brushstroke upon his skin.

"What does it feel like?" Seonghwa asks, pausing his work to get more paint on his palette.

Hongjoong makes the mistake of turning his head to the side to look at the elder.

Seonghwa has opted to remain shirtless, his bare skin already stained with tiny dots and splatters of paint.

Looking away, he huffs in annoyance.

"Tickles," he answers, closing his eyes once more.

Laughing, Seonghwa resumes painting with a few solid strokes.

"Could've fooled me. You're practically falling asleep on me."

"I'm not," Hongjoong protests, but he does find himself relaxing under Seonghwa's light touch as the minutes pass.

He begins to count the brushstrokes, trying to figure out what shapes the elder is making but soon his mind settles down.

The earlier tension had ebbed away and now a strange sense of complacency has taken its place.

It's the same feeling Hongjoong often had at night now when he tried to sleep, anxious about the dreams, only to think of Seonghwa and fall into a peaceful slumber....

Hongjoong wakes to Seonghwa's voice coaxing him from his nap with the smell of food in the air.

"Hey, you fell asleep, so I finished the piece. Also, I ordered Thai takeout. I hope you don't mind."

Hongjoong grumbles as he wakes, pushing himself up off the tarp.

He can feel the paint on his back, covering his right shoulder entirely.