Page 12 of Aries

“Oh, fuck.” My hand jolted, leaving a short swipe of the brush up the canvas. “Where did—”

“Do you always paint nude?” he asked, staring deep in my eyes.

I broke eye contact to scan the art on his body. All the way down to where he was sadly back in boxers. “I—I like the freedom,” I told him, and I hadn’t realized I was naked.

“Can I see?”

“You’re already looking.”

“At the painting.”

“Oh.” I looked at it. I rarely allowed people to look at art I was in the middle of creating, not because I didn’t think it looked good, but because I didn’t like to put anything out that was half finished. “Sure.” Gael was different though, I wanted to show him. I wanted to hopefully impress him.

He looked at the art, his head tilting like I’d see so often from critics. He even had the hum and oddly constipated look too. “Color palette looks familiar,” he said, smiling at me. “I wonder where you got the idea for it.”

“You helped me with that, I guess.”

It hadn’t been a direct color match because I would’ve been doing it all day, but I had taken inspiration from the hickey bruises. It wasn’t exactly color for color, but it was blended in the same way. The splashes of deep purples and blues, mixing with the touch of reds and a dot of light ochre to mimic skin tone.

“I love it,” he said. “You have a real talent. You also have a talent for getting paint everywhere.”

“I do,” I said, looking at myself. Along with the hickeys, there was now paint splatter. “It’s part of my process.” It was almost a way for me to put more of myself into my art. “I guess you do the same.” I placed a hand on his chest, transferring paint on his skin.

“I don’t have much space to do it anymore,” he said, his hand over mine, pressing it against to his skin. “But maybe I’d find a spot for you.”

My gulp echoed. “You mean it?”

“I never lie, well, not on purpose,” he said.

I placed a hand on the wooden palette, mixing all the colors on my hand. “Plus, you get to clean paint once you’re done,” I said, gently putting my hand on his shoulder. “So, there’s no real need to commit to placement.”

“Oh, and I take it, you can just paint as much of someone as you wanted, and then wash them away, but what would remain of the moment you spent together?” he asked, taking my hand from his shoulder and placing it down against on his torso. “Or is that the point? To experience something and then only have the memory of it.”

“And the emotion,” I said. “Because nobody can see what’s going on inside, but everyone can see your skin.” My hand slipped, dragging paint over the Daddytattoo.

“Free advertising,” he said. “People know what they’re getting into when they see what I look like.”

I smiled; it was hard not to. “What if people just thought you were a loving father?”

“Not possible, at least not with the way I fuck,” he said, taking his hand from mine. He gathered paint in his hand and placed it on my chest. “You know, since I only go in the back.”

A giggle came out like a nervous tick. “I guess that’s true.”

Daddy didn’t stop with the single placement on my body, and neither did I. With paint in both of our hands, we were painting each other’s bodies. It wasn’t until it started to dry that I paused, a little concerned for his chest hair.

“I don’t think you’re gonna want to keep this on for too long,” I told him.

“Yeah, I can already feel it get hard.”

Immediately, I looked to his waist.

“No,” he chuckled. “Although I’m not opposed to some fun before I have to leave for work.”

It was around brunch, that fun socially acceptable time to drink alcohol between breakfast and lunch. “We best go to the bathroom then,” I said. “I don’t want us making any more of a mess in here than we already have.”

It wasn’t hard for this place to get messy. I threw paint on canvas for a living. It was always in a perpetual state of mess.

The bathroom was all tile, the perfect place to wash and get cleaned up, while also getting a little dirty.

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