Steamy.
Title: Sunday Morning. ( 06. Fine Art)
Genre: Sensual
Characters: Magenta Comstock, Charlie Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 639 words
Summary: Magenta has a difficult time sketching and its all Charlie's fault.
Author's Notes: Magenta Comstock belongs to JKR but her characterization should be credited to trivalent.
Magenta sat back, sketchbook on her lap. Her dormitory was quiet, her roommates having already left for breakfast. She turned her pencil on its side as she darkened the shadows. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder before continuing. She almost didn't need to look up; the image having already been imprinted in her mind. She continued silently for a while, tracing contours and correcting errors. Soon, her sketching became a little erratic as other sorts of thoughts began playing in her mind. Her pencil hovered over the paper as she tried to control her breathing.
"I didn't ask you to take your shirt off."
"Oh, I merely assumed since we were painting indoors..."
"Painting you indoors doesn't mean I want to paint you naked."
"Well, you haven't painted me naked yet. It's just that we always paint outside when you don't want to paint my dragon."
Magenta couldn't argue with that. She didn't know why she had lashed out in the first place. "Well, put your shirt back on."
"Is there a problem?"
"No, no problem. Just put your shirt back on."
Magenta bit her lower lip as she tried to focus on something else, anything else. However, her mind merely kept running in a sort of blank circle before returning to the same train of thought. Magenta touched her lips subconsciously. She wondered if it was sheer stupidity to be thinking she still remembered what he tasted like. She'd never been one to join in on the female gossip of Atia or Myrtle, so she really did not know.
"Who is this?"
"Hmm?"
"This," Charlie said in a tone that was not his.
"He was in a book."
"Oh."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, just..." Charlie rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"Just...?"
"How do I explain the idea that I'm jealous you painted someone else...in this manner without sounding like a complete git?"
Magenta had been at a loss for words. Charlie had come closer and toyed with her hair. She'd let him kiss her. She'd let him touch her face. She'd let him...
Magenta shook her head. Worst of all, she'd enjoyed it. Worse than that, she'd responded. Magenta shook her head again. Her curls bounced over her shoulders. She looked up and away and stared at the girl reflected in the mirror. She touched her face. Was she glowing? Magenta watched the girl carefully, for it couldn't be her. Her curls were always just right and the girl's was mussed up and wild. Her eyes were blue grey and the girl's was a dark but bright blue that didn't belong on her face. She touched her face again.
She looked down at what she had been drawing and blushed. She hadn't even been aware of what she had been doing. Her hand trembled slightly. She felt her subject stir. She looked up and came face-to-face with Charlie. She opened her mouth slightly to say something, but no words came out. Charlie clearly took this as a sign to kiss her, for he did - and for a long time. So long that she was a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen when he pulled away. He looked down at what she had been drawing and smiled.
"It's nice, but it's erroneous," he muttered.
"Wha-at?" Magenta still hadn't recovered several of her senses. The fact that he was quite unclothed on her bed didn't help at all.
Charlie took her drawing utensils away from her and she didn't even protest when he dropped them on the floor. He pulled her towards him and dragged the hangings shut. Magenta's sketchbook lay on the ground, charcoal not too far away. Two people entwined in each others' arms kissed on the white canvas.
Genre: Sensual
Characters: Magenta Comstock, Charlie Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 639 words
Summary: Magenta has a difficult time sketching and its all Charlie's fault.
Author's Notes: Magenta Comstock belongs to JKR but her characterization should be credited to trivalent.
Magenta sat back, sketchbook on her lap. Her dormitory was quiet, her roommates having already left for breakfast. She turned her pencil on its side as she darkened the shadows. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder before continuing. She almost didn't need to look up; the image having already been imprinted in her mind. She continued silently for a while, tracing contours and correcting errors. Soon, her sketching became a little erratic as other sorts of thoughts began playing in her mind. Her pencil hovered over the paper as she tried to control her breathing.
"I didn't ask you to take your shirt off."
"Oh, I merely assumed since we were painting indoors..."
"Painting you indoors doesn't mean I want to paint you naked."
"Well, you haven't painted me naked yet. It's just that we always paint outside when you don't want to paint my dragon."
Magenta couldn't argue with that. She didn't know why she had lashed out in the first place. "Well, put your shirt back on."
"Is there a problem?"
"No, no problem. Just put your shirt back on."
Magenta bit her lower lip as she tried to focus on something else, anything else. However, her mind merely kept running in a sort of blank circle before returning to the same train of thought. Magenta touched her lips subconsciously. She wondered if it was sheer stupidity to be thinking she still remembered what he tasted like. She'd never been one to join in on the female gossip of Atia or Myrtle, so she really did not know.
"Who is this?"
"Hmm?"
"This," Charlie said in a tone that was not his.
"He was in a book."
"Oh."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, just..." Charlie rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"Just...?"
"How do I explain the idea that I'm jealous you painted someone else...in this manner without sounding like a complete git?"
Magenta had been at a loss for words. Charlie had come closer and toyed with her hair. She'd let him kiss her. She'd let him touch her face. She'd let him...
Magenta shook her head. Worst of all, she'd enjoyed it. Worse than that, she'd responded. Magenta shook her head again. Her curls bounced over her shoulders. She looked up and away and stared at the girl reflected in the mirror. She touched her face. Was she glowing? Magenta watched the girl carefully, for it couldn't be her. Her curls were always just right and the girl's was mussed up and wild. Her eyes were blue grey and the girl's was a dark but bright blue that didn't belong on her face. She touched her face again.
She looked down at what she had been drawing and blushed. She hadn't even been aware of what she had been doing. Her hand trembled slightly. She felt her subject stir. She looked up and came face-to-face with Charlie. She opened her mouth slightly to say something, but no words came out. Charlie clearly took this as a sign to kiss her, for he did - and for a long time. So long that she was a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen when he pulled away. He looked down at what she had been drawing and smiled.
"It's nice, but it's erroneous," he muttered.
"Wha-at?" Magenta still hadn't recovered several of her senses. The fact that he was quite unclothed on her bed didn't help at all.
Charlie took her drawing utensils away from her and she didn't even protest when he dropped them on the floor. He pulled her towards him and dragged the hangings shut. Magenta's sketchbook lay on the ground, charcoal not too far away. Two people entwined in each others' arms kissed on the white canvas.