Page 35 of Undisputed Chaos
Adrian stood in what looked like his house, early morning light slanting through massive windows behind him.
He wore nothing but low-hanging sweatpants, his tattooed torso on fulldisplay.
Unlike his public photos, all wild grins and playful poses, this was different.
His expression was serious and intent, with green eyes looking directly into the camera as if he could see me through the screen.
One hand was in his tousled hair, the other holding the phone in the mirror, revealing more of those intricate tattoos that climbed up his neck and covered his arms.
@AdrianCatalyst
Fair exchange.
Something just for you that no one else gets to see: My morning face, no filter. Just me thinking about what I want to do to you.
I stared at the image, suddenly aware that I was clutching my phone tightly to my chest, like I was looking at porn.
Which… Maybe I was. This probably counted.
It was so intimate seeing him like this, not the professional boxer or social media personality, but just... Adrian in all his chiseled glory. In his space. Sharing something with me.
@AdrianCatalyst
Now it’s your turn again.
Paint something new today that shows how you're feeling. Don't overthink it. Don't edit it. Just feel and create and bleed onto that canvas.
Send me the result by sunset.
I smiled, tracing the words with my fingertip. He seemed quite like that I was an artist. Not just the filtered, curated version I showed online, but the real artist who poured her emotions onto canvas.
@IslaBelleflower
Okay, I will.
@AdrianCatalyst
Good girl. I'll be waiting.
Those two words again sent that now-familiar heat washing through me.
I saved his photo to a private folder, then closed my eyes for a few seconds, letting myself feel the weight of this strange, intense connection that had formed between us.
When I started painting, I closed my eyes and tried to identify exactly what I was feeling. Excitement, yes. Anticipation, yes.
But underneath was something deeper, desire mixed with the exhilarating fear of stepping into something unknown.
I started painting without sketching first, letting colors flow from my brush in sweeping, bold strokes. White and gold, deep violet and flashes of electric blue.
This was wild, unplanned, and almost violent in its dark beauty.
I lost myself in it, forgetting time, forgetting everything except the movement of my brush and the emotions pouring through me.
Hours later, I stepped back, breathless and paint-spattered, to see what I'd created.
It wasn't a scene or a portrait; it was pure emotion on canvas.
Swirls of color that somehow captured the desire inside me, the hunger and the hope, and the exhilarating fear of stepping into something unknown.
