Work Text:
“Siwon’s sick today,” Boa says as the class files into the room, sketchpads tucked under arms and charcoal smudged across at least one student’s cheek. “So I asked another model to step in for this week. I’m sure you’ll find it a welcome break and good practise to sketch a different physique. We’ll sketch for half an hour, take a break, change pose and then finish up the hour, how does that sound?”
The class murmurs their assent, and Kibum settles into his normal spot, fingers itching already. It’s a nice welcome break from sitting at the computer all day editing articles, eyes going square, and Kibum massages the bridge of his nose to get rid of the dent.
“Everyone, please make Minho feel welcome.”
There’s a scattering of applause as a boy (boy? man? guy) in his early twenties comes through the back door and gives Boa a brief hug before making himself comfortable on the cloth-covered table.
Kibum eyes him as Minho drops his bathrobe, nude as Siwon had been, and stretches out on the table, leaning back on his arms and cocking his head just so , so that the lean column of his throat catches the light. He stretches out one leg (so long, holy shit ) and bends the other one, before closing his eyes and holding the pose.
Boa comes over to adjust the angle of his hands so that his whole weight isn’t on his wrists, and the sheet isn’t bunched under him. After, she simply steps back to her own easel and starts drawing, everyone else taking the cue to do the same.
Kibum takes a deep breath, appreciating the long long lines Minho offers, but trying not to appreciate it too much, otherwise he’ll be appreciating it in a much different way.
Time always passes quickly in the room when charcoal’s in his hand, and he focuses on getting the lines of the muscles in Minho’s legs right. The swell of his calf muscles makes Kibum swallow, so different from Siwon’s , and he curses when his hand jerks, too distracted thinking about -- nope, he has to focus on drawing
He follows the lines up to the curve of Minho’s abs and chest -- definitely not as well defined as Siwon’s, but there’s no denying Minho’s an athlete as Kibum smudges the charcoal into shadows, dipping in the hollows of his hipbones. Kibum’s glad the bend of Minho’s leg hides everything else.
Kibum draws the shape of Minho’s chest, the curves of his rib cage, and starts filling in details. Minho’s nipples are peaked in the cold, and Kibum has to focus to make sure he doesn’t think about it too long, just concentrating on their shape (oval, a bit uneven), before he dares a look up at Minho’s face.
He fumbles for his charcoal when he realises Minho’s staring at him, lips curved in a cross between a smile and a smirk, and Kibum hates how easily he blushes.
“Fuck,” he mutters when he bends to pick up his charcoal. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“You okay?” Jonghyun asks as he concentrates on getting the waves in Minho’s hair right, pencil light on the paper.
“Fucking fine,” Kibum says as he picks up his shattered charcoal and gets a new one from his box.
“Time,” Boa calls out, and Kibum breathes. “Let’s have a five minute break.”
“How’d you go?” Jonghyun asks as he concentrates on finishing Minho’s nose, before turning to a new page. “Not far, huh?”
“No,” he says, and flips to another page before Jonghyun can see.
“Well, maybe you’ll get further after the break,” Jonghyun says, and Kibum dares to look at Minho’s again, but he’s relaxed, bathrobe pooled in his lap as he talks to Boa, smiling gently. She describes what she wants, hands waving animatedly, and Minho nods before looking over her shoulder and meeting Kibum’s gaze dead-on, grinning.
Enjoy the view? he mouths, and Kibum thinks that even his ears are going red.
Fuck .
This time, Minho grabs an extra chair from the corner and drapes the sheet over it before sitting in it, legs shoulder width apart, left elbow on the armrest and chin in a cupped fist. He’s facing Kibum, and Kibum makes sure he detaches his brain from his crotch before he starts sketching because this pose hides nothing .
Kibum starts with the shape of the chair so he has a base and doesn’t have to think too hard about Minho, drawing the curl of Minho’s fingers under his chin, and the bones of his knuckles. He smudges some charcoal to get the shadow of the chin right, and when Kibum starts on Minho’s face, he begins with the nose.
It’s strong and pointed, showing a strong personality, his mother would say. His eyes are wide and amused, and Kibum tries to get the twinkle right but it falls flat. But the curve of his smirk is easy, his bottom lip full and plump
“Time,” Boa says, and Kibum quickly looks up from his 30% finished sketch, swearing. He glances over to Jonghyun, and Jonghyun quickly finishes the lines of Minho’s legs before Minho moves, but he’s pretty much done.
“Shit,” Kibum says, and Jonghyun looks over in sympathy.
“Maybe you can ask Boa if she can invite him next week if you wanna finish that,” Jonghyun offers, and Kibum bites his lip. He does, but also, he doesn’t. He’s pretty sure that even if he had a full day, he wouldn’t be able to finish a decent sketch of Minho.
“Hey,” a voice greets Kibum as he’s packing up, trying to wipe up the scattered charcoal.
Most of the class is gone, Jonghyun too, only Boa left folding up the sheet and moving easels back to the side of the room.
“Hey,” Kibum says, refusing to look up as he carefully packs up his materials. The voice is just as he imagined it -- low and smooth.
“So, I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to like what you see,” Minho says, and Kibum does look up at that, sharply, though Minho’s wearing his bathrobe again, thank god.
“What made you think that?” He tries for biting, but the edge is dulled from embarrassment and oh god, he hadn’t been this embarrassed during a nude sketch class for a long time.
“I can just tell,” Minho says, voice low, and his gaze drops to Kibum’s lips before they flicker up, and he grins. “So, did you?”
“D-did I what?” Kibum mentally kicks himself. He sounds like he’s twelve, what the fuck.
“Like what you see?”
Kibum swallows, decides to hell with it , and grabs Minho’s wrist and puts Minho’s hand on his chest. He can feel his heart beating double time and Minho’s hand feels cool against his flushed skin. If Minho looks down, Kibum’s pretty sure he’ll be able to see other evidence that, well yeah, he does like what he sees.
“Why don’t you tell me?” Kibum says, voice hoarse, and Minho grins.
“Then let’s get out of here,” he says, and laces their fingers together.
“Shouldn’t you get dressed at least,” Kibum says as Minho tugs him out of the room, steadfastly ignoring Boa and her knowing grin.
“Why? When I’m going to be naked again soon anyway?” Minho breathes into his ear, and Kibum shivers.
Shit, he’s in so trouble.