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Drawn in Stone

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“You drew these?”

You smile. It’s not often you can get Dave’s voice to rise above his patent disinterested monotone into anything resembling legitimate praise.

“Yep! I didn’t think a life drawing class would be this heavy, but they’re making me draw so much.”

Dave’s flipping through one of your sketchpads, and you honestly can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at the way he’s looking at each page, actually looking at each drawing, instead of flipping through and giving it all once-over the way most people tend to. It’s not really a lack of self-esteem – you actually think you’re pretty decent – but his casual scrutiny still makes something in your stomach go jittery.

“Congratulations, Egbert. Looks like you have something to contribute to society after all.” Dave flops onto the bed, knees up with the sketchpad resting against them. (It’s like his shades are custom-made, the way they don’t move on his face at all.)

You roll your eyes, knowing you should have expected such a backhanded compliment. “Oh, that’s much appreciated, Dave. I’ll take your praise to heart.” But you laugh a little as you say it. You can’t help it; you laugh a lot when Dave’s around. Even when you’re kissing. Especially when you’re kissing.

“So, life drawing, huh? Anyone ever pop a boner for the nude models?”

You giggle, imagining that very scenario. “Actually, they’re not allowed to have the models be completely nude.”

“I thought that was the whole point.” Dave peeks around his legs at you, his face still appearing impassive even though you know from the tone of his voice the exact way his eyebrows would be raised if you were close enough to make them out through the dark lenses.

“Something about the school’s honor code and I think something happened between a teacher and a model in the past…”

Dave laughs openly. You knew he’d find that funny. You love hearing him really laugh.

“But we do get extra credit if we find our own nude models.”

Dave doesn’t answer you for a second, so you just kick your feet, spinning the chair a little.

He sits up on his elbows, letting his legs fall a little flatter so you can see other over the tops of his knees. His eyebrows are visibly raised and he’s got a trademarked smirk on.

“Oh really?”

Simply the way he says it makes you blush.

“Oh my God, Dave, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He laughs again, falling back flat against the bed. You spin idly, trying to will your face back into a normal shade. Your boyfriend is such a…you don’t even know, you’re too busy trying not to imagine Dave taking his clothes off to come up with any suitable word.

“You better hope you don’t need extra credit then. ‘Cause, you know, if you draw another guy’s junk, I’d have to kill him. Comes with the whole boyfriend contract.”

Dave.” You know you’re whining and you’re still not having any luck with that whole not-blushing thing, but he’s just being so…ergh.

“I’m serious, bro. Jealousy, over-protectiveness, I’m good at all that. There’s only two people that should be getting derrieres to the air in this room, and that’s us.”

That’s it. He’s done it. You bend over and plant your face between your knees, heart pounding just from the implications of being naked with Dave. Oh, jegus fuck, you’re never going to be able to look at him. How are you ever going to…okay, one step at a time, we’ll get to the dirty stuff later. Jegus, John, take a breath and calm the fuck down.

You sit up far too quickly. “Are you implying that I’ll need extra credit?” It would have been a decent enough comeback if you’d said it, you know, five minutes ago. At least you’re looking at Dave again, which is definitely a good thing, because he’s smiling, actually smiling. Okay, so maybe it was because he was sorta laughing at you, but you didn’t really care. He was smiling at you.

“Nah. Only that I’m the only model you’re getting.”

You’ve known Dave long enough to know how his challenges work. If you were Bro, you would have already said ‘strip’ because that’s just how the Striders are, and even though you’re frantically trying to get that scenario out of your head because ew, you know that part of Dave wants you to tell him you want to him naked.

But that is so not you and you’re too nervous and too embarrassed to ever say ‘okay, you should take your clothes off for me!’ For you, that may as well be asking for a lapdance. Actually, it’s worse that he’s your boyfriend, because there are…things and feelings and…and okay, you’re mature enough to acknowledge that yes, you imagine that one day you will be doing sexual things with Dave Strider, which means one day  he is going to get naked for you, so yes, a part of you does want to watch him uncover every last inch of that pale skin just for you and an even bigger part of you really wants to draw him, but…but you can’t just do that.

Oh, jegus fuck.



You look anywhere but at Dave, because now he’s looking at you again and you have to clear your throat so your voice doesn’t do that little squeaky thing again. “I said okay?”

“Okay as in ‘okay, if ever I need to save my sorry-ass grade in a class that only I, John Egbert, could ever have the talent to fail, I’ll come to Your Studliness,’ or ‘okay Dave, drop trou so I can bask in your perfect beauty and make a pitiable attempt at putting your glorious cock on paper?’”

“Fuck you, Dave,” you say, except it’s muffled to all hell because your hands are covering your face. You’re certain even your toes are bright red by now.

Dave just laughs, a rare, bright sound that only comes when he really thinks something’s funny, and one you’re all too aware you’re falling in love with.

The sound makes you smile. You take a deep breath and drop your hands.

“Okay, I want extra credit.”

Dave doesn’t actually look at you, but he’s smirking, look very self-satisfied. You’re guessing you’ve lived up to his expectations, challenging him, and instead of ticking you off (because who is he to manipulate you like that?), really, it just makes you happy.

He sits up. “So is that like, gonna be our code word for sex, or what?” Except he’s grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, so you can’t respond because, woah, he’s taking his shirt off and he said sex.

You’re glad you have to get your things together because that means you have an excuse not to watch him. You’ve seen Dave shirtless plenty of times, even had his bare chest pressed up close against yours that one time when you were making out and it was awesome, so it’s not like you’re not up for seeing the traceable muscle lines across his stomach and the sparse freckles dotted along where his collarbones become his shoulders, but it’s just that knowing he’s going even further that makes you nervous.

You stall by flipping to a clean page before grabbing your charcoal and turning around and Dave is standing there and he’s naked and wow. Okay. Dave Strider, your boyfriend, is standing naked in your room, and he’s looking at you.

“So.” He runs a hand through his hair, and if you could stand to look at his face, you’d know if he meant it as some ironically sexy thing or if he’s as nervous as you are. (Except who are you kidding, Dave doesn’t get nervous.) “How do you want me?”

Yeah, you’re blushing again. “Uh…I guess lay down?” You need to stop phrasing things as questions. “On your back.”

Dave turns and the way he just glides onto the bed shouldn’t be that hot. And then he’s on his back on your freaking bed in front of you and looking up at you and fuck if you know what to do.

He’s still wearing his shades, but his head is turned toward you – he’s waiting on you.

You almost start out with his hands behind his head before scenes from Titanic flash through your head and you leave that behind, settling for one hand up near his head, the other resting on his stomach. The leg furthest from you is bent at the knee, the other straight out. And oh my jegus, he has to know that you’re having trouble not staring at his cock because it’s right there and does he just not care? How is he not freaking out?

When you finally sit back down in your chair, all you want to do is look at him. He’s pale all over, and you have the weirdest desire to find out if every inch of him tastes like his neck does.

You start with his face. Shades still on, his face looks smaller when you actually look at it. His chin is round, but his jawbone is pronounced enough that there’s a tiny dip between where it ends where his cheekbones start. It’s a nice shadow that makes him look defined and intimidating, but it’s really hard to draw from this angle, where his head only half pointed toward you. He has freckles dotting his face all over, ones that you wouldn’t notice at first, but after you see them, you wonder how you ever missed them. His nose is a little small, and the bridge has little dips, probably battle scars from Bro.  His hair is somewhat flattened since he’s lying on it, and there’s a little piece that’s sticking out over his broad, wide forehead.

His neck is somewhat long, Adam’s apple surprisingly pronounced, but then, his voice is pretty deep, so maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. With one arm raised up, his collarbone is jutting out on the one side, displaying those darker freckles that lead to a leanly muscled arm. You leave the other arm as nothing more than an outline resting on two lines that make the basic shape of his torso. You dot in a few more freckles at the top of his chest and work down to his nipples, semi-hard (which you guess when you’re totally naked the room might be a little colder than necessary but you’re too embarrassed and stuck in the groove to ask him now if he’s comfortable). They’re also dark, almost brown, and you remember thinking that before, but that was when you were getting maybe a little up close and personal, and now that you’ve taken a step back and you’re basically scrutinizing them, yeah, they’re definitely dark.

He has a few scars along his body. You’d noted some on his arms, too, the little white lines that come from scratches that get picked at before they can heal. In Dave’s case, there are a lot of potential sources for these scars, but you won’t bring them up, because sometimes scars are best left to be scars.

Dave has visible ab lines, and they are certainly one of your favorite sights, because they’re not huge, but whenever you’re pressed close to him and he shifts, you can feel the tightness of muscle moving and man it’s great but you have to focus on other things now, like how his wrist curves to rest his fingers, short, over his stomach. And how his thumb sits out apart from the rest of his hand, and lines created where his elbow bends. And the little shadows around his hipbones and the subtle little curve at the small of back before it becomes the ass that you definitely haven’t gotten up the courage to run your hands over even you think about it what must be way too often.

And then your gaze rests on his penis. Uncircumcised. You try to make any mental comparisons, but as you’re drawing, you can’t help but note where it sits and how it curves, and you’re wondering what it would look like next to yours. The hair around it is a few shades darker than the blond on his head, and becomes lighter and wispier as it leads up to his stomach.

You make a mental sigh of relief when you move past his crotch and sketch out his legs, noting how the light in his position makes his thighs look two different sizes, and how the hair on the insides of them is still fairly dark, but not enough to be anything more than striking against his pale skin. His knees are noticeably scarred, and his calves are tightly muscled, noticeable underneath wiry hair. His ankles make stark shadows, and the veins on top of his feet stick out. (His toes are weirdly straight, which makes things marginally easier for you, because you have trouble with toes.)

And then you’re done. You fill in one or two things, going over some lines, and sketch out a background you can finish later, but eventually you lean away from your pad a little and look it over, your eyes flashing back and forth between paper and model a few times before you stop and double take because his shades are off, down on the bed next to him. When did that happen?

He’s staring at you with those eyes you spend so much time trying to find behind dark lenses, but this time you can’t help but shy away from their intensity.

Dave looks even more naked now, every part of him unprotected, and your heart starts pounding again, hard and so loud in the still room you swear Dave can hear it. But then, he always looks like he knows everything about your innermost thoughts, so you never know for sure with him. It’s…somewhat exhilarating that, even know you’re only sortof in control here, Dave is still literally baring it all for you.

You look back to the drawing and suddenly it looks like shit. All of a sudden you’re the harshest critic you’ve ever seen and you’re tempted to just smear it into oblivion and tear it up and flush the pieces and never draw again because the real Dave is still right there in front of you and why did you ever think you could put any piece of him on paper?

But you sigh and flip the pad around so Dave and see, and you look at the back, at the blank white sheet on the back of some other sketch, instead of at him, because you actually don’t want to see his reaction.

“Well shit, Egbert.”

You blush. He hates it.

“Laminate that shit and frame it.”

You peek out from behind the pad and see him staring at you with one eyebrow raised, a smirk quickly widening into a small smile.

“It’s really not that good…”

“Hey, bro, that is a picture of me you’re talking about. Don’t be dissing.”

You smile and put the sketchpad down, but Dave doesn’t move. You look at him again.

“Just gonna leave me hanging, bro?”

You blush.