As I went, I instructed everyone to leave their stations as they were and to come back by this evening or tomorrow to pick them up if they were done or to finish if they weren’t.
I preferred to clean the classes up myself, wanting to dedicate the full hour to the fun stuff. After many words of thanks to both me and Cody and a few stops by my station, the class dispersed.
I did a quick sweep of brushes and performed the necessary procedures to keep them from drying out. Just as the needle crackled between tracks, I turned to seek him out.
A new song began, and there he was.
Cody stood in front of my canvas, his broad back to me.
I wasn’t sure what he was seeing. How he would perceive it. Like during my early morning therapies, I didn’t consciously create, only studying the results later if I so chose.
My boots squeaked faintly against the tiles as I approached him, and just as I came within arm’s reach, he turned.
There were tears in his eyes.
I halted, but he reached for me and drew me in close, hugging me to his warm body and rubbing his cheek on the top of my head. “I missed you too.” His chest rose and fell under my cheek, and I nuzzled into him. “So much, Liem.”
Cherries and coconut. Warmth and safety.
Cody pulled back and touched his forehead to mine. “That is how you see me?” he asked, his voice thick.
I breathed him in and willed my mind to let me see it. Let me see the canvas.
And…yes.
There he was. An almost exact replica of how he was posed. No embellishments, no creative liberties.
“Just as you are,” I agreed.
We parted, and his eyes roved down my body from head to booted feet. “I think it’s my turn to paint you, Liem. Will you let me?”
“Yes,” I answered easily.
He searched my eyes intently, the greens of his once again changed but still mossy as he blinked away the remaining moisture and smiled. “Good.”
He turned away from me and walked deliberately to the classroom door and shut it quietly.
And locked it.
My heart rate galloped as I bounced lightly on my toes in anticipation, the sudden energy shift in the room almost creating another type of out of body experience.
It was like I was watching the scene from some perch above, near the sunlight from the window, as Cody walked straight to me and snaked both of his hands under my shirt, resting them both on my stomach before pressing upward, making my already cropped shirt rise higher on my abdomen.
I floated back down into my body as he stepped back and just stared.
He stared without shame or remorse, just as I had the past hour. As if on cue, my nipples started to throb along with my pulse.
Cody’s eyes remained hot on me, and there was nothing but raw anticipation inside me. I didn’t even spare a glance for the door, and there were no eye-level windows to concern myself with, so I knew I was safe.
I was always safe with him.
Cody reached around me, and when he brought his hand back, light pink paint coated the tips of his index and middle finger. “This won’t hurt you?” he asked softly.
“No,” I responded, eyeing his fingers. “It won’t hurt me.”
He painted a line across my ribs, and I gasped as he said, “You’ll tell me to stop if you want it to stop?”
“Yes,” I agreed through a whine.
