This story is dedicated to my wifey and horny pocket-picker Lars.
Paint
By Beer-monster
"Stop fidgeting."
Heero stifled a sigh, as glanced towards the head of golden hair that bobbed behind the wooden stand.
"Don't look at me like that, either," she said, craning a head around the stretched sheet of canvas to fix him with her blue-violet eyes.
"Like what?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
"You know what I mean, and you know that you did it, Heero," she replied, before shooting a stern glare towards his hands. "Put your hands back where they were."
Heero let his arms fall back to his lap, an unnerving feeling of nakedness tugging at his gut as he returned his hands to where she had positioned them at the start of this fiasco. She had forced him to perch at the edge of an unstable chair, whose wonky legs sent ripples down the fabric of the thick white cloth Paygan had laid across the carpet. His legs were tucked beneath the chair, crossed at the ankles as she had instructed (although he suspected she was only painting his torso). She had grabbed at his wrists and posed him like an action figure, laying his left hand on his thigh with his right cupping the wrist. Pulling on his shoulder, she had positioned him at an angle that made his back muscles lock up, then informed him to turn his head towards her.
Her next words: `Do remain still', felt like nails being driven into his back; she used the same tone when staring down mulish senators.
"Heero," she warned.
"I did not move, Relena," he responded, telling himself that she could not possible object to him sliding the tip of his shoe the half inch forwards that was needed to prevent his leg from seizing up.
"You did. I saw you," she fired back.
"Relena, you were facing the other way, fumbling with your paints and bottles of retardant. How could you see me?"
"I did."
"That makes no sense."
"Of course it does."
Heero felt his brow furrow as he watched her shift behind the easel, but said nothing. He was suddenly reminded of something Duo had said as they had lounged in the American's push sofa, a video file of an archaic football game drowned out by his friends constant chatter. The braided pilot was rambling about his relationship with Hilde again, and had claimed that `women don't like to make sense, it gets in the way of whatever they're arguing about'.
He smirked as heard Relena's brush scrape across the canvas, her soft voice muttering beneath her breath - and dismissed his friend's comment. If it was true, that meant that Duo was making sense; and that was a far scarier concept.
He heard her chair creak and Heero's eyes darted towards her, and he immediately wished they did not. His eyes widened and he could almost feel them drinking in her form as he received his first view, unobstructed by a screen of canvas, in thirty-four minutes. Part of his mind wondered what power this woman had over him, so that he counted the minutes he could not see every blessed inch of her frame?That part was quickly silenced and he felt his thoughts fall from his head as Relena stretched.
Relena Peacecraft had an amazing ability, amongst her many talents, to look beautiful in anything. In the boyish jacket and breeches of the Sanq kingdom, she glowed. Dressed in a prim, pantsuit with her hair coifed into a tight bun, she was charming. During the war, Heero had seen her dressed in a humble skirt and blouse that made her seem more child than woman, her face dusted with the grime of battle - but she still shone. Even now, dressed in a man's shirt that hung from her frame, she made his heart leap into his mouth.
The shirt was of powder blue cotton - one of his; yet despite it's larger size, as she stretched her arms upwards the fabric folded to highlight her curves. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a pale expanse of flesh but seemed to cover the perfect amount to tempt but not display. However, as she stretched, arching her back as she pressed against the base of her spine with both hands, the opening widened into a low v that revealed the inner slopes of her breasts. He fell his throat tighten, as did the denim of his jeans.
This was the Relena the others never saw: woman in bloom, completely relaxed with herself and her surroundings. No political masks, or magazine-cover smiles. She wasn't the princess in her designer gown, or the minister at the lectern. This woman was at such ease that she made the trained tension in his muscles unwind, and he'd never known they were there until they were gone. She was free.
To Heero, it was damned sexy.
"That wonky stool has given me such a stiff spine," Relena said, rubbing the lower muscles of her back with small, firm circles.
I have something stiff to give you. The thought appeared in Heero's head like a gunshot out of the night, and seemed to echo in the mental silence that followed. He glanced at Relena from the corner of his eye, looking for any sign she could read his thoughts. However, the young woman was absorbed in mixing burnt sienna and burnt umber and raw sienna on her transparent plastic palette.
"Does that mean I get to stretch out my legs too?" Heero asked, thinking it prudent to fill the silence.
"Nope, you have to stay in the pose," she replied, now leaning back around the easel, stretching one hand towards the tubes of paint on the other side of her stool. This new posture resulted in her bottom being lifted in the air as she reached over the stool, the contours of her rear filling the white denim of her shorts. He tried to avert his eyes, and glanced down at the floor for a whole?half a second before he found himself following the soft curves of divinely carved legs with his eyes.
He swallowed hard and briefly wondered if she knew she was having this effect on him, if she was trying to seduce him, but quickly dismissed the idea. She doesn't need to try for a man to want her, it just happens.
"You just enjoy making me suffer," he grunted, quickly throwing his eyes to the floor as Relena turned back towards him, a large scrap of densely woven paper clamped in her fingers.
"No that's just a fringe benefit," she said with a smirk, the smudge of green paint on her dimpled cheek plucking at Heero's heart like a guitar chord. "Besides, `Mister Super-Spy,' you should be used to staying still for long periods. That has to be useful for espionage and that sort of thing." A sour twist of her lips made clear her opinion of `that sort of thing', as she rolled her brush in one of the brown smears on her pallet.
Heero said nothing; a wise soldier did not press a disadvantage. He had indeed been trained in patience, enduring extreme discomfort for the sake of scraps of information. Crouched on his haunches for hours, drenched with rain and peering through fuzzy night-vision binoculars on a stakeout; cramped inside a vent listening, holding his breath so that he could hear the whispers in the room below. He had been in less comfortable situations, clenching and unclenching every muscle to stop his limbs from cramping - waiting patiently for his target.
There was, however, a distinct limit as to how patient a man could be when faced with a woman who radiated sex and did not even seem to know about it!
Running his eyes over the sleek curves of her legs once again, he felt the clenching of a more uncontrollable muscle.
She moved closer, very close. He could hear his pulse pound in his ears, as if his heart was beating against a drum in his chest. She slowly reached a hand towards his face, and Heero almost flinched, her proximity driving his senses wild. He could smell her in the air between them and it was all he could do not to lick his lips to see if he could taste her. His knuckles turned white as he clasped his wrist in a painful grip as she took gentle hold of his foremost bangs and ran her thumb over the strands.
"Relena," he said in a low voice, hoping to hide the wavering of his tone. "What are you doing?"
"Looking at your hair colour," she replied as if it were a natural occurrence for her to fondle his chocolate bangs.
"It's brown."
Relena rolled her eyes. "I need to be more exact than that, Heero."
"Dark brown."
Her grip tightened on his locks making his face flicker with a brief wince. "You're not helping," she said with a withering glare, offset as she poked her tongue at him. Heero's mind conjured images of other, more sensual, things she could use that tongue for.
Relena brought the scrap of paper up with her left hand, comparing the streak of brown paint with the colour of Heero's hair, a small frown curving her moist lips
"I've got to get it right," she said in a gentle tone. "I want this painting to show you just as I see you."
Heero tensed, and he turned away, fixing his stare on the ripples in the thick blanket covering the floor. That was the other reason he was finding it impossible to remain still. Curiosity about what had been laid on the other side of that canvas sheet was eating him alive from within. How did she see him?
A shrill whining beep cut the air, accompanied by a low rumble. Two sets of eyes flashed over to the table, where a pager hummed and pulsed for attention. The table growled beneath the vibrations and Relena's brushes and paint tubes rattled in their wooden box.
"Of course," she sighed. "I almost thought I could have a day off. Thank God someone paged me to free me from that crazed delusion"
"Part of being the Foreign-Minister, Relena," he grunted, silently thankful for the interruption, the chance to grab on to his surging hormones and wrestle them back under control before he pounced on her. "It must be important for them to call on a Sunday."
"It's always important, that's the problem," she said with a small pout, putting her palette and sample paper aside and collecting the offending device. "It's Spencer," she declared, glancing at the digital read out. "Apparently he's having some problems with the contracts. I'd better call him and straighten this out."
Heero's eyes followed her from the room, watching the sway of her hips in those clinging canvas shorts, trying to suppress the blood that flooded between his thighs. He thought he would burst when she paused at the doorway, turning around and leaning against the frame on one hand, fixing him with a sharp glare that made alluring with its danger.
"Do. Not. Move," she said and swept from the room.
As soon as he was alone, Heero slumped forward, allowing his legs to untangle and ease the constrictive ride of his jeans. He gazed around the room, taking in the vanilla shade of the wall and the plush, silvery velvet of the drapes, hoping for his arousal to be swept away in a tide of the mundane. Then his eyes landed on the easel, its canvas sheet still facing away, and his mind became fogged with another issue.
What lay brushed and pencilled across the face of that panel of stretched canvas? Image had never been a concern for Heero; he did not give much to his image or thought what others thought of him. He only took care over his appearance when the situation demanded his attention, such as creating a flawless disguise to infiltrate an enemy cell, or grooming himself to accompany Relena to another function surrounded by royalty and high-ranking officials. However, something in Relena's voice, resonating sincerity like the purest crystal, told him that this about more than physical features and image. For her, art was about painting what lay in say inside from without. She drew what she truly thought.
And to Heero, what Relena thought mattered a great deal.
He had taken four steps before the flood of thoughts had faded, crossing half the distance between his stool and the easel and not stopping. He told himself that this would not matter. He would be back in the seat before Relena returned, back in his pose. She had only been adding colour for a few minutes, so all he would see was the sketches, the surprise she wanted to keep would not be ruined. He kept on telling himself.
The face he saw, rendered carefully in delicate lines of pencil, was not the visage that started back at him from the surface of a mirror, but it was still unmistakably him. The angles of his face seemed somehow softer, the planes less steep and the cut of his jaw less sharp. She had hinted at darkness with light strokes forming soft pools of shade, yet there were less shadows playing on that face despite the unbalanced lighting from the windows of the room. His lips seemed different, their curve less severe, less intense than he knew them to be.
It was his face, but it was not how he looked. It was more open, nobler, as if someone had given his face to the carved face of a hero from myth.
Was Relena drawing him as something more flattering as many painters did? No. That wasn't something she would do. The princess did not need to flatter anyone, she saw what was good and genuine in everyone she came in contact with. Even him. Because everyone's life was made better for that contact.
He stared at the eyes of the painting, his eyes. They were the only part of the face that had been painted so far, such an odd place to start, and that made Heero curious. He leaned closer to the canvas, the stale scent from the paint filling his nose, careful not to brush against the wet paint of the drawing's jeans. Hovering above the acrylic image of his own eyes. He could see each brush mark, each stroke of pigment, and he could almost feel the care blended with each mark. The young politician had slaved over his Prussian blue irises, sweeping the bristles over the soft pencil lines like a lover's caress.
Why?
"Why are you out of your seat, Heero?"
Heero almost started, spinning around to see Relena stalking towards him. A frown curved her lips and the disapproval in her beautiful eyes made his heart drop to his feet like a lead weight.
"Couldn't wait could you?" she sighed, stepping besides him, her eyes meeting his.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words hollow to his own ears.
"I know," she said gently. "Me too."
He grunted between clenched teeth and recoiled when he felt her small knuckles dig sharply into the muscle of his deltoid.
"Hey," he protested, whirling towards her.
Relena's lips were curved into a deviant smirk. "I told you not to move, Heero," she purred, eyes glittering beneath her thick lashes. "You moved. So be a good soldier and take your lumps."
"Take your lumps?" he repeated, one eyebrow quirking up. "You really have to stop watching those old movies. With Duo."
Her lips formed a radiant smile, and Heero managed a small grin in response. It was a compulsion he could not resist. He watched her muscles tense briefly before she pounced towards him like a kitten pounces on a yarn ball.
Heero slipped back as she took a playful swipe at him, eyes drawn to the sway of her breasts as she moved. Distracted, she almost caught him with a light swat but he dodged at the last moment, putting her wobbly stool in the space between them. He held his hands flat on the wooden surface as a pivot. She moved right he moved left, she moved left he moved right keeping the stool between them. He matched her movements whilst sharing her smile. Her grin widened and she dove to the left, lunging for him.
Her foot caught the leg of the small table with a bang, open pots and tubes of paints tumbling towards the ground with an explosive splatter of colour. Relena stumbled and fell?into Heero's arms.
The first thing he noticed was how well she fit against him, his arms looped around her waist, supporting her unbalanced weight and cradling her slender, curvaceous frame. The hollow of her waist pressed around his abdomen, her firm breasts pressing on his own flat chest, like pieces of the puzzle snapping together. Then his other senses began to react, his nostrils inhaled her vanilla scent as his eyes drank in the sight of her.
"Thank for the catch," she said. His eyes glanced down to her lips. They were a strangely fascinating, strangely appetising shade of pink, and seemed so?.delicious.
"Heero? Heero?" he was watching her lips form his name but the words seemed far away. "Heero!" this time her question was accompanied with a pat on the shoulder.
"Hm," he muttered, blinking as he stared into her eyes and felt himself begin to slip away in those soft, lilac depths.
Her lips on his came as a surprise. He felt his eyes open wide as he realised the soft sensation sliding over his mouth was her kissing him.
"What was that for?" he asked, as she brought her head back, his brain spinning in his skull.
"Because it seemed like you weren't going to do it," she answered with a wry twist to her mouth. "So I had to." The corner of her lip crawled higher, widening her smirk.
"Do I have to again?"
Heero answered by lowering his head and stroking his lips over hers. His fingers tightened, splaying wide against the curve of her back as he pulled her close. He shifted onto both knees and lowered her slim form to the blanket below. Her arms looped around his neck and pulled him on top of her, maintaining the electrifying contact of their lips.
Their lips met softly at first, sliding along each other and setting each nerve into song. Then the kiss deepened, as if the earth had become water and together they were sinking into the sensation. It deepened and became wilder, their mouths joining in an escalating frenzy, gasps and moans leaking from the seal of their lips. Heero shifted onto the point of his hip as he slid one leg over her, letting her feel his hardness press against her. Relena responded by twining both legs around his, untangling one hand from his tousled hair and running her fingers over his back to grip his bottom. His own hand slid over her form, running up her waist and across the swell of her breast.
Heero pulled back, breathing heavily and hearing her own husky pants echo his. Staring into her eyes, he reached for her hand, entwining her fingers in his and brought her arm down to the blankets. He felt a wet squelch as their touched the growing spill of paint.
"Paygan's not going to be happy," he said, glancing at the polychromatic stain.
Relena shuffled beneath him, tilting her head to follow his eyes. Her other hand had slid inside his tanktop t-shirt, fingertips playing over the muscles of his torso. "We'll just have to get another rug."
"Isn't it valuable?"
"We can afford it," she said, before turning back towards him, a wry smirk forming on her face again. "Besides, if it has paint all over it, you have to get rid of it." As she said the words she pressed her paint covered hand to his chest and slid it down, leaving a long smear across the front of the tank top.
"Is that so?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow.
"I'm afraid so. It's the rule."
"You know how I hate to break the rules," he said. He shifted his weight until he supported himself on his knees, one at each side of her, his body astride her belly, and lifted his arms above his head. She gripped the hem of the top with such force he thought she would tear it from him and began to yank it impatiently over his head. As soon as the cloth was removed, Heero slipped back down to Relena.
His eager hands gripped the lapel of her shirt, opening the wide v further and attacking the revealed flesh with his mouth. He nipped at the nape of her neck with a sucking kiss, before trailing his caress to the swell of her throat, hearing her groan and feeling her passion echoed in the throb of her pulse against his lips. Her hands gripped at his messy bangs and he could feel the wet paint slather on the strands. Sliding lower, he swept the flat of his tongue across the dip of her collar bone before rising up to wrench his hands apart in a sudden, wild motion. The button of the shirt came apart with muted pops allowing Relena's firm, rounded breasts to spill free.
"Heero," Relena protested as he threw a scrap of blue fabric aside.
"Paint," he declared quickly before descending on to her chest and seizing a rose-coloured nipple in his mouth. His reward was his name said in a heated gasp as she pulled his head tighter to her chest. He sought out her other breast with his hand, letting the erect bud score against his palm before his fingers took a soft grip on the firm flesh and kneaded it gently. Then he shifted, wrapping his lips around the other nipple, holding it gently in his teeth as he flicked the tip of his tongue across the hardened nub.
"Heero," Relena breathed, squirming beneath him. Her hands clamped around his face and pulled, dragging him up to her lips for an intense kiss. She pressed her palms flat against his chest muscles, pushing with insistent pressure, and he let her roll him onto his back, paint squelching beneath his shoulders.
She sat astride him and he could feel his arousal pressing into her backside, sensations shocking through his body as she moved against him, shifting her weight. He could hear his own breath heave into the air as she ran her hands over his body, fingers tracing the ridges of his abdominal muscles and leaving smudges of red paint over his stomach. She leaned over him, her breasts dangling for a moment above his face like ripe fruits that he could not help but raise his lips for a taste. When she pulled back, the middle and index fingers of her right hand were laden with paint. She ran them across his chest, finger-painting across his pectoral muscles. He sat up onto his elbows, tucking his chin down to see her scrawl the letters R and P.
"RP?" he asked.
"Relena Peacecraft," she answered. "I'm just marking what is mine."
He smiled. "I'm yours now, am I?"
She nodded and kissed him, her hand sliding down across his body and cupping the bulge in his jeans. "Especially this," she whispered, her hot breath washing over him as she popped the button and started to tug down his fly. She reached into his boxers and encircled his rod in her sticky, painted hand, forcing him to hiss through gritted teeth. He shifted and moaned as she stroked her fist along his manhood.
Heero pushed from the floor, sitting up with a muted growl and hooking four fingers into the waistband of Relena's shorts. The button came undone with a twist of his thumb and he slid both hands beneath the thin cotton of her panties to grip both curves of her rounded buttocks. He kissed and licked over the curve of her neck as he cupped the warm flesh in his hands, fighting against the tightness of the shorts. Pushing his hand in further, he slipped his fingers between her thighs, reaching for her warm, wet folds. Relena tensed and gave a little squeak as his questing touch made contact with her womanhood. Her fist gripped his rod tighter as he slipped a fingertip along her lower lips.
"Heero," she breathed huskily into his ear. Her legs clenched reflexively around his hips, as he pressed harder on her centre.
"Mm hmm" he answered, still devouring the flesh in reach of his hungry lips. He licked her right nipple with a long stroke of his tongue, feeling a warm thrill as her breast bobbed.
"Take them off," she gasped, gripping her free hand hard on the waist of his jeans.
He looked up at her; her eyes were vacant and glazed with passion and her cheeks were flushed red. Her shoulders heaved as she panted, causing her pert breasts to bounce; sweat glistened wetly over her bare torso. She was beautiful.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded, reluctantly withdrawing his hands from her shorts. Pressing his palms flat beneath him he pushed his hips up, and allowed Relena to begin tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs. He slipped the shoes from his feet and shook his trousers off as Relena took hold of his freed manhood and leant over to kiss the tip.
He threw his head back and groaned as her tongue played over the sensitive head. Each breath he took grew deeper as shudders ran through his body. Forcing his mind past the sensations filled his brain like an erotic haze; he reached for her hips, trying to push her shorts over her firm rear. Understanding what he wanted, she took her lips from his rod, the air feeling much cooler in comparison to the warmth of her mouth, and moved closer so that he could strip off her remaining clothes of with greater ease. Tossing her garments aside, Heero rose to his knees and slid behind her, one hand cupping over her breast whilst the other snaked around her belly and rubbed at her wet core.
"Heero," she gasped, reaching around for his manhood. He evaded her hand, pressing in close until his shaft settled into the crease of her buttocks. "Not fair," she whined, jumping in his arms as his middle finger grazed over the bud at the top of her slick folds.
She leaned back against him, her head lolling onto his shoulder and her body melding against his, louder cries creeping from her lips as he continued to tease her. He slid two fingers between the dripping lips and hooked his middle finger against the entrance making her stiffen and then go limp against him.
One of her hands reached up and around to seize his hair in a painful grip, pulling his lips to hers. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues met and he knew it was time.
Wrapping both arms across her flat belly he began to lower them down to the blankets, adjusting his weight so that she felt him press on her gradually. He laid her out flat on her stomach, himself on top of her with his aching loins pushing insistently against the soft cushion of her bottom. Using his knees between hers, he parted her legs wider and she followed quickly, eagerly granting him access to her. Scooting his weight back he supported himself on his elbows as he reached down and took himself in his hand, guiding his organ into her wet centre. He lodged the head at her entrance for a second before pushing forwards slowly, feeling her moist folds part for him. Relena gasped and lifted her hips, pushing back against him and allowing him to slide in further until his pubic arch pressed against her buttocks and he could feel her all around him.
It was amazing. Her inner walls clutched at him from all sides; his brain clouded over, drunk on the sensation of being inside her. His body drove him onwards; Heero drew his hips back, her folds clinging to his retreating shaft as she sighed. Then he pushed forwards, faster and with more force, burying himself in her molten core. She cried out as he filled her again, her hands balling around the blanket and her back arching against his chest.
Heero fell into a gentle but firm rhythm. The wet slap of his belly meeting her rear echoed in the room again and again, beneath which he could just make out the moist sounds of her labia parting for his shaft. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling the floral aroma of her hair, now tinged with the musky aroma of their joining. He could hear his breath heave out of him in wet puffs against her neck, but he was listening to her. He loved the sounds she made, the high-pitched cries and breathy gasps. The way she called his name as her body tensed against him, and the way she growled under her breath, biting at the blanket.
He slipped his arm between her belly and the floor, sliding his hand down and across the flat muscle towards her sex. He slid his palm over her plump mound and let his fingers curl over her damp lips. Her hardened nub pushed against his hand and he could feel his own hardness graze against his fingers as he caressed their joined sexes.
"Heero?I?" she cried, her walls flexing around him.
Heero grit his teeth, his jaw aching and he bit down hard. The cords of his neck and muscles of his back stood out as he strained; pushing into her harder, trying to send her over the edge whilst holding back his own passion.
Then her body locked beneath his, her legs thrusting out straight and her hands gripping the blankets so tight the knuckles whitened on her trembling fists. She threw her head back and a long, breathy moan ripped out of her gaping mouth. Her inner muscles spasmed and clenched around him, squeezing him into submission. He growled her name into her ear as he poured his passion into her, before collapsing limp on top of her.
They lay together like that, his sculpted framed stretched out across her curved body, every ounce of energy having left his muscles. He almost felt like he was becoming a puddle of liquid, like not even his bones could remain solid as he panted against her back. He took comfort in the sound of her laboured breaths filling the air.
His manhood softened and slipped from inside her, and he took that as a sign to roll off. He sat bonelessly besides her, looking down at his spent shaft, still covered in their fluids, and watching his thigh tremble. Streaks of red, green, blue and yellow covered his skin and he smiled at her initials scrawled across his chest.
She too was marked with paint, orange and yellow splotches on her legs and black smudges on her arms and belly. A small snicker escaped his lips as he noticed the smudged, but still discernable shape of handprints on each of her buttocks.
"Looks like we both got painted," she said, her voice heavy but warm.
"We'd better move before Paygan finds us like this," Heero suggested, glancing at the small, river of mixed paint soaking into the blankets.
Relena nodded and sat up. "I'd rather he not have a heart attack. It would be hard to replace him." She spread her arms wide as she stretched and Heero felt a flicker of life return to his groin as the motion made her breasts jut out from her chest.
"The question is can we get to the shower without him or anyone else seeing."
"No, Heero. That's not the important question," she said, shaking her head, paint-laden strands swinging limply.
"Then what is?"
"The important question is: Do we use your shower or mine?"
The end.
I hope that satifies all the people wityh crazy, on-the-ass handprint fetishes.
Hope you enjoyed it
