"Make it go up."
"Excuse me?" Now snapped out of his rosy-pink trance, Yoongi moved his head so that he was looking at Hoseok right in the face.
"Your dick," the painter motioned at Yoongi's crotch, his hip cocked to the side, "it was at about a for...
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He had never seen anything like it before.
That was a bit of an exaggeration, really. The painter's house was as ornamental as a noble's, the walls a soft pink against high arching columns that curved into a large ceiling with cherubs and beautiful arrangements of flowers painted onto it. Delicate interlacings of curves and countercurves framed mirrors, crawled up the legs of many of the furniture, and lined the walls.
There was a porcelain conch shell placed on the tea table right in front of him, gentle as a pond with its pinks and browns. The tea itself was sweet with a hint of fruit in it. Peach, perhaps?
It was the painter himself that sent Yoongi into shock for he had truly never seen anything like him before.
"My step-brother," Seokjin lowered his dainty, porcelain teacup to introduce them, "Jung Hoseok. Hoseok, this is Lord Min Yoongi."
"I'm sorry for having kept you waiting for so long."
The smile he was given was brilliant: thin lips stretched into a heart, eyes crinkled and nose scrunched. Already on his feet, Yoongi didn't hesitate to kiss his knuckles when Hoseok offered his hand, leaving him flustered but obviously pleased.
"That is quite alright. Your brother was lovely company," was what Yoongi told him before his visual senses decided to catch up and he froze in shock once again.
He had on a simple long sleeve shirt with a low neckline and frilly sleeves over salmon pink breeches but what really grabbed Yoongi's attention was his hair clip. He was wearing a barrette, a rose gold clip decorated with pearls that held back Hoseok's brown fringe from his face. He had the likes of a Rococo painting. 'You are what you paint' suited Hoseok perfectly.
"You are the Lord who has an appointment booked for this afternoon, I presume?" Hoseok prompted gently. His voice was soft but not so much so that Yoongi couldn't hear him, yet he leaned in anyway, catching a whiff of what Hoseok had eaten during tea-time. Raspberry tart with a hint of lemon. His lips were still stained a pretty red.
Yoongi dipped his head. "That is I," he confirmed smoothly. Hoseok smiled at that.
"Please, right this way. I have to add some touch ups to my current work and I'll be with you in a bit."
Yoongi thanked Seokjin for the tea and biscuits ("Why of course," Seokjin purred charmingly, "My baking is the best in the city.) and followed tha painter up the stairs with brass railings and round curves that reminded him of frosting and cream. Hoseok's hair seemed to bounce with every step, hips swaying hypnotizingly. When he looked down from over the thin railing he locked eyes with Seokjin's hawkish ones—a teacup posed at his lips— and he sucked in a breath through his teeth as he tried to smile, a sudden unsettling feeling in his gut.
"Please, right this way."
He was led into Hoseok's studio and was gestured politely to sit down in front of a ground-to-ceiling window. Yoongi sank into the floral divan with a sigh, tilting his chin up to examine this new room.
