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fan_flashworks2012-05-18 05:33 pm
curtana.livejournal.com) wrote in fan_flashworks2012-05-18 05:33 pm
Entry tags:
Diablotin: Fanfic: The size of a life
Title: The size of a life
Fandom: Diablotin
Rating: R
Word Count: 450
Summary: Pavo was getting better at staying still, but he couldn't resist talking to Phorien while he worked.
Pavo was getting better at staying still, but he couldn't resist talking to Phorien while he worked. "What are you doing now?" he asked him.
"Left arm," Phorien said briefly. "The inner crease of your elbow, to be precise," he elaborated once he'd finished the detail he was carving into the clay. "You know, you won't be able to talk so much when I'm working on the face."
"I'll be good," Pavo promised.
"I doubt it," Phorien murmured, glancing fondly at the young man who was standing naked in his studio, then back to his work, a first draft for what would eventually become a life-sized marble replica.
Pavo stuck out his tongue at the sculptor, but Phorien ignored him. "Do you ever do self-portraits?" he asked, trying to keep himself from getting too bored.
"No." Phorien stood back for a moment, eyes flicking between Pavo and his smaller duplicate.
"Why not?"
"Because it's too hard to do wrinkles and saggy skin in marble," he said absently.
"I'm sure you could manage," Pavo said, before realizing that might sound rude. "But you're not that wrinkly," he added hastily.
Phorien smiled, which, it had to be admitted, accentuated the fine creases around his eyes. "It's sweet of you to lie." He removed a tiny bit of clay with his blade. "But no one wants to look at me, and I'm fine with that."
"I like to look at you," Pavo insisted. "You're interesting. You have ...character."
"That is one of the ways young people are customarily polite to their elders," Phorien pointed out. "Next you'll be telling me how wise I am."
"Well, that would be a lie," Pavo teased. "If you were so wise, why would you be involved with me?"
"It's a question I have often asked myself," Phorien agreed dryly. "I suppose I'm a... what do you young people say? A sucker for a pretty face."
"Not just face," Pavo pointed out with a wink and a flirty little twitch of his hips.
"You moved," Phorien complained, but his heart wasn't really in it. He eyed Pavo with a raised eyebrow. "It's not that kind of sculpture, you know."
"Whatever do you mean?" Pavo inquired innocently.
"Pornographic," Phorien said, with a nod in the direction of his lover's tumescent cock. "I think we're done for today."
Pavo stepped down, stretching, and came over to look at the clay model of himself, draping his arms affectionately around Phorien's shoulders. "You're going to make me beautiful," he said with a grin, kissing him on the cheek.
"You don't need me for that," Phorien protested. "I'm just going to make you immortal." He turned to take Pavo in his arms, trying not to think about how, in that respect at least, all of his sculptures were self-portraits.
Fandom: Diablotin
Rating: R
Word Count: 450
Summary: Pavo was getting better at staying still, but he couldn't resist talking to Phorien while he worked.
Pavo was getting better at staying still, but he couldn't resist talking to Phorien while he worked. "What are you doing now?" he asked him.
"Left arm," Phorien said briefly. "The inner crease of your elbow, to be precise," he elaborated once he'd finished the detail he was carving into the clay. "You know, you won't be able to talk so much when I'm working on the face."
"I'll be good," Pavo promised.
"I doubt it," Phorien murmured, glancing fondly at the young man who was standing naked in his studio, then back to his work, a first draft for what would eventually become a life-sized marble replica.
Pavo stuck out his tongue at the sculptor, but Phorien ignored him. "Do you ever do self-portraits?" he asked, trying to keep himself from getting too bored.
"No." Phorien stood back for a moment, eyes flicking between Pavo and his smaller duplicate.
"Why not?"
"Because it's too hard to do wrinkles and saggy skin in marble," he said absently.
"I'm sure you could manage," Pavo said, before realizing that might sound rude. "But you're not that wrinkly," he added hastily.
Phorien smiled, which, it had to be admitted, accentuated the fine creases around his eyes. "It's sweet of you to lie." He removed a tiny bit of clay with his blade. "But no one wants to look at me, and I'm fine with that."
"I like to look at you," Pavo insisted. "You're interesting. You have ...character."
"That is one of the ways young people are customarily polite to their elders," Phorien pointed out. "Next you'll be telling me how wise I am."
"Well, that would be a lie," Pavo teased. "If you were so wise, why would you be involved with me?"
"It's a question I have often asked myself," Phorien agreed dryly. "I suppose I'm a... what do you young people say? A sucker for a pretty face."
"Not just face," Pavo pointed out with a wink and a flirty little twitch of his hips.
"You moved," Phorien complained, but his heart wasn't really in it. He eyed Pavo with a raised eyebrow. "It's not that kind of sculpture, you know."
"Whatever do you mean?" Pavo inquired innocently.
"Pornographic," Phorien said, with a nod in the direction of his lover's tumescent cock. "I think we're done for today."
Pavo stepped down, stretching, and came over to look at the clay model of himself, draping his arms affectionately around Phorien's shoulders. "You're going to make me beautiful," he said with a grin, kissing him on the cheek.
"You don't need me for that," Phorien protested. "I'm just going to make you immortal." He turned to take Pavo in his arms, trying not to think about how, in that respect at least, all of his sculptures were self-portraits.