What made a masterpiece a masterpiece had nothing to do with skill, or even presentation. A work could be paint splatters daubed by a drunken elephant and people might cry genius. Rohan bit his bottom lip and let his pen sketch across the paper in a whirlwind of scratches, doing his best to keep his eyes on the page and away from his subject. He was far more talented than an elephant, drunk or otherwise, but real talent lay with one’s ability to incite emotion, and for the life of him, Rohan wasn’t sure what feeling this portrait would convey upon completion. Half-finished as it was, he could only feel heat, a smoldering warmth in the pit of his stomach that he feared more than anticipated.
Perhaps it had been a poor idea to ask this particular model to sit.
“One would think it would be difficult to draw if one refuses to look upon their subject,” a low, insidious voice drawled from across the room. “Tell me, my dear Rohan. Is there something wrong with your subject?”
Rohan bit harder, his lip threatening to split. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck and his hand trembled minutely, the nib nearly ruining what work he’d managed to accomplish in the few minutes he’d been at work. “Now why would you assume that?” he asked, moving his hand without touching the page, feigning drawing along with his nonchalance.
Dio let out a laugh, the rich tones of his voice rolling like molasses in winter. “Do I frighten you, young one?” he guessed, and Rohan looked up, angry he’d even assume as much. “Or am I too complicated a subject for your unskilled hand to capture?”
It was a mistake to look at him, of that much Rohan was certain. Dio lay naked and glorious across the luxurious chaise, his muscles faintly glowing in the low light of the moon. Pale light, liquid and silent, wrapped around his body like the clothes he wasn’t wearing, like a mantle of his magnificence granted by the sky itself. The pen in his hand shook.
There was a reason he stopped looking up. He knew well enough that there would be no way to capture what was before him in a manner that would do him justice.
Dio didn’t bother to sit up. He just supported his head on his hand, the gracefully strong lines of his body granted bas relief at the new angle. “What a curious human you are, Rohan Kishibe. You ask me to pose but find it difficult to look upon your model. Do you believe yourself so talented that you need only look once?” he wondered, his eyes narrowing like a cat basking in the sun.
He gripped the pen tightly, the plastic casing creaking. He was being toyed with, like a mouse before the cat decided to stop playing. “Don’t flatter yourself,” Rohan said, crossing his legs at the ankle to appear more dismissive than he felt. “Perhaps if you stopped fidgeting, I’d already be done.”
It was a poor excuse, and one he knew that Dio saw through easily.
“Come here, Rohan.”
Rohan swallowed, his hands tightening around the sketch book. “Why?” he demanded, fighting the commanding waves of intent pouring off the vampire. “I can’t draw you from that close.”
Dio gave a knowing smile. “Come. Now, boy,” he repeated, his eyes hardening like citrine. “Do not make me repeat myself.”
He rose to his feet without another thought, the sketch book still in hand as he approached the ethereal creature. Dio smiled so gently, but it was just a mask to hide his teeth, like a predator softening its bloodthirst with a purr. Rohan tried to keep breathing, refusing to show the discontent trickling down his spine.
His knees nearly bumped the edge of the lounge. “What do you want?” he asked, forcing himself to look at the floor. It was too dangerous to look him in the eye, especially at this distance. Rohan flinched when Dio laughed, and he gaped when he realized he was no longer holding his sketch book. How did he get it? How didn’t he notice it being taken from him?
“Perhaps I was too hasty in criticizing you, dear Rohan,” the vampire purred, stealing his attention as if it were his just due. His sharp eyes appraised him over the top of the book. “This is a pleasing likeness. Very…reverent.”
The way he rolled the world on his tongue made Rohan flush from his shoulders to the roots of his hair. “Thank…thank you,” he managed, breathless for some reason. “It’s not done though. You should let me finish it.”
Instead of laying back in the original position, Dio gave him a patronizing look. He tossed the sketch book to the floor, spreading his muscular legs until Rohan could look at nothing but his thick, hard cock. It lay against his thigh, as beautiful and perfect as the rest of him, a simple ring pierced beneath the head to accentuate the inhuman eroticism he wielded like a weapon. Rohan dropped his pen, the sound of it clattering against the wooden floor nearly enough to make him jump.
“On your knees, boy,” Dio crooned, and Rohan fell to his knees hard enough to bruise. “Good, good,” he praised, threading his strong fingers through Rohan’s hair, tugging him up and over until his mouth was hovering a mere inch from the head of his cock. “Show me your reverence, Rohan, in flesh rather than ink.”
“D-Dio,” Rohan stammered, his cheeks so hot that the flush felt permanent. He clenched his hands into fists, since it seemed safer than touching the warm thigh so close to brushing his chest. The fingers tightened their grip, yanking at his hair hard enough to bring a tear to his eye.
“What is it, Rohan?” Dio sighed, his expression concerned while his tone belied him. “I can smell your desire in the air, the want you feel for me when you look upon my body.”
Could he really? Mortified, he looked at the cock in front of his face, at the beading pre-cum glistening the tip. In the moonlight, it nearly looked like a pearl. “This is…” humiliating? Degrading? He didn’t have the words to articulate all he was feeling, but with how his heart pounded, he knew Dio could tell. Uncaring eyes returned his stare. “This is overwhelming.”
For a moment, he nearly thought Dio would give it up. The vampire sighed and loosened his hand, stroking Rohan’s cheek with the back of his hand. “To think, you have the will power to refuse me like this,” he chastised softly, and it was the only warning Rohan received before Dio forced his mouth open and fucked into his throat with an upward thrust of his hips.
Rohan grunted and tried to rear back, but Dio’s hand was like iron, holding him in place, his fingers locked behind his jaw to keep him open and unable to bite. The metal of his piercing clacked against his teeth and he took in a deep breath through his nose, glaring daggers at the vampire. His eyes watered, his jaw ached, and Dio moaned wantonly as he bucked, purring at him like a pleased beast.
“Do you feel undignified, Rohan?” the vampire chuckled, a sheen of sweat gathering on his beautiful body until he glistened in the moonlight. “You should feel honored to service Dio.”
The cock sat so heavily on his tongue, twitching excitedly when he groaned. Rohan closed his eyes and let his hands finally fall onto the vampire’s thigh, sucking gently since it was pointless to deny the inevitability of what was happening. Dio was anything but quiet in his pleasure, moaning lowly and headily. His fingers carded through Rohan’s hair, trusting him to keep sucking.
Rohan opened his eyes helplessly, wondering if he was just that well trained, since that’s exactly what he did. His hand wrapped around what he couldn’t take into his mouth, stroking the smooth flesh in time to the bobbing of his head. He wouldn’t pretend to have much experience in this field, given his natural disinclination towards most people in general, but he had enough of a knowledge base to know what would feel good and what would make Dio absolutely melt.
“Ah- Rohan,” the vampire grunted when he gently skimmed his teeth along the shaft of his cock. His thighs shook minutely, advertising his pleasure. Rohan lifted himself up higher, his chest resting entirely on the chaise so he could go deeper, suck harder. The ring bucked against the roof of his mouth, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. His own need made him sweat and he rolled against the edge of the lounge, praying Dio wouldn’t notice but knowing realistically that he would anyway.
Shoving his own need aside, Rohan set himself to memorizing the particulars of the moment. As unexpected and humiliating as the situation might be, there was no denying the burning eroticism Dio promised with every breath he breathed. Rohan drank in the way his brow furrowed when he tongued at the slit, the way his abs twitched with barely contained energy when he sucked harshly at the tip. Dio’s eyes looked towards the heavens like a man on the brink, and Rohan wanted nothing more than to capture that expression to paper until he knew the lines by heart.
So consumed was he in his appreciation that he hardly noticed Dio speeding up his thrusts, or the way clenched his teeth. The vampire came with a hedonistic moan, fucking up and into Rohan’s mouth, giving him no warning or chance to pull off. The taste coated his tongue and Rohan struggled to swallow, Dio still bucking into his mouth to chase the afterglow. He watched with lazy eyes as Rohan coughed and sputtered, savoring the mess on his lips like a beast only just sated.
“That was…that was so rude,” Rohan gasped, breathing wrecked and chin dripping with the cum he hadn’t managed to get down. He shook a little, hating how hard he still was. There was no way to hide the damp spot on his front, or the flush to his cheeks, and Dio already looked confident enough without needing to know how heavily he was affected by merely sucking his dick.
Dio hummed unapologetically, combing through Rohan’s hair with a knowing smile. “Was it?” he asked, hooking his hand behind Rohan’s head to force him onto the chaise, guiding him until he lay along Dio’s long, hard body. “Perhaps you deserve an apology.”
Rohan shivered when a thick thigh came between his legs, Dio coaxing him to ride it. He did so slowly, reluctantly, because the hungry look in the vampire’s eyes seemed anything but benign. Their golden depths were so deep, so endless, that he felt like he was drowning.
“I want to draw you,” he felt himself say, blurting out the words. “Next time, before you cum.”
The grin that earned him was positively lascivious. Dio tugged him closer by the chin, licking up the mess still coating his lips like gloss. “Next time?” he chuckled, stroking down the line of his spine with his free hand. “How eager you are. Are you that eager to capture my essence again?”
He bit his lip and flushed, too hard to think and too entranced to argue. Dio bounced him on his thigh, moving him like he weighed nothing. Perhaps to him, he did weigh nothing. Rohan turned away from the citrine eyes to stare at the floor, preferring to face the darkness than the creature who held him in thrall.
A bubble of laughter nearly escaped him though when he caught sight of the vampire even there. The sketch book lay open to the unfinished portrait, and Rohan closed his eyes, the image burned into the black of his mind. Warm, strong hands slid past the waist band of his trousers, and he leaned into the touch, burying his face in Dio’s neck.
A masterpiece was only as good as the emotion it incited, he told himself. It was just a shame that Dio already seemed to hold him in sway.