"Michael, what are you doing?"
"I want to draw you."
"I heard you."
"Only you."
You furrowed your brows.
"Like this," he finished, gesturing to your body.
Your eyes widened and he smiled.
"The hell you will," you answered and pushed him away from the dresser.
You managed to open the drawer and grab the first top you saw before he slammed it shut. He easily ripped the shirt from your grasp and held it out of your reach.
"Michael!" You exclaimed, reaching for the shirt.
"Let me draw you, Y/N," he begged.
"I'm not going to have some naked image of me lying around the house."
"Are you crazy? This will be for my eyes only!" He stated as if it were obvious.
You stopped and sighed. Michael wasn't one to change his mind once it was made up, so you knew he wasn't going to let this go. In fact, you were positive he'd let you run around the house nude until you agreed to let him do this.
"You're sure you won't let anyone see this?" You looked up at him, eyes desperate.
"Y/N, baby. You know I wouldn't exploit you like that," His eyes softened.
He threw the shirt on the bed before walking back over to you. You lowered your head as he grabbed your waist. Putting his finger under your chin, he titled your head up.
"And for the record, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."
A smile tugged at your lips. You couldn't resist his pleading eyes, so you finally gave in.
"Alright, just get it over with. I'm cold."
His face lit up and you shook your head.
"I'll set out one of the warm blankets for you to lay on. Come here, let's go down to the den."
He grabbed your hand and ushered you down the stairs.
Soon, he had the couch covered with a warm blanket and a chair in front of it for him to sit on. He settled on the chair with his pencil and sketch pad.
"Okay, lay down for me."
You obeyed him, stretching your petite body over the couch. He seemed to get lost for a minute, staring at your figure.
"Michael?"
"Oh, sorry," he blushed, "Um . . . hang on a minute. Don't move."
He got up from his seat and left the room. You shifted awkwardly, waiting for his return.
"Okay," you felt yourself internally warm at the sound of his voice.
He kneeled down in front of you and handed you a bright, red rose. You sniffed it and smiled, making him smile.
"Now, hold your arm up like this," he grabbed your left arm and adjusted it above your head.
His hands were warm and soft, making you enjoy the feeling of him touching you.
"And hold the rose in that hand too."
You put the rose in your left hand. Michael moved your right arm that was draped over your chest. He positioned it over your lower stomach.
"Don't cover up. Not for me," he whispered.
He gingerly adjusted your legs to the position he wanted before coming back up to your face. Gently grabbing your chin, he tilted your head toward him.
"Okay," he smiled softly, satisfied with your position, "Now don't move."
You nodded and relaxed. He settled back into his chair, picking up his sketch pad and pencil in the process. Watching his face scrunch up in concentration, he put the pencil to the paper. His large brown eyes continuously darted up and down, from you to the paper.
"You seem a little uncomfortable. Take a breath and relax your face," he said.
You tried to hold in a laugh before replying, "You should see your face. A very serious artist, I see."
He broke into a smile and looked up at you.
"Come on, Y/N."
You sighed and did what he said.
The pencil moved back and forth on the paper. His eyes moved back and forth on different parts of your body. When he got to your chest and lower half, you noticed him blush.
"A blushing artist."
"Shh," he shushed you.
You mentally thanked him for putting you in a laying-down position because it was taking much longer than you thought. Yet, you knew Michael was a perfectionist.
Finally, he finished his last bit of shading and sighed.
"Can I move now?" You asked.
"Yes," he smiled and got up from his chair.
You smiled and sat up, stretching your arms.
"Can I see?" You asked.
He sat down next to you and handed you the picture. You gasped at his outstanding work. The drawing was incredibly realistic, catching every detail of you. From the curve of your waist to the slight indent on your cheek, Michael did an extraordinary job capturing your beauty.
"Michael, this is amazing."
"Thank you."
"Really, you are so incredibly talented."
He blushed and looked away.
"Can I get dressed now?"
His shy, humble persona immediately disappeared. His eyes darkened and a smirk formed on his face.
"Not yet."
Your eyes fell to the bulge in his pants before you smiled back.
"I'm still a little cold. Can you warm me up, Mr. Jackson?"
In record time, he had his clothes off.
Michael positioned himself on top of you before pulling the blanket over both of your bodies, cutting you off from the rest of the world.
Blushing and Bare Skin
Start from the beginning
