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“So, where do you like to start first? Dick or balls?”
Touya can’t fight the wide grin that curls across his mouth when those eerie red eyes cut to him from behind the easel, taking in the smooth part of his thighs as he transitions into his favorite pose to break in the new ones: the man-spreading, dick-hanging, leave nothing to the imagination Thinker.
Touya slides towards the edge of the chair he’s perched on and plants his feet wide on the cool linoleum, props his elbow on his knee, and rests his head slowly on his fist; totally unbothered by how the position showcases his flaccid dick but pinches at his sack.
Shitty plastic laminate doesn’t bode well with shaved balls.
The pale slip of a kid before him - Touya vaguely remembered Giran calling him Shimura something - stares at him for a moment longer, not a shift in his unwavering gaze before he turns his focus back to the canvas in front of him without a word.
They’ve been coexisting in the empty art room much the same for about fifteen minutes now. Touya had entered the studio expecting to find it empty, to have time to stretch and strip without an audience before his appointment with the new student Giran pointed his way. The waifish figure sitting quietly, expectantly, near the center of the room ten minutes before schedule had surprised him.
More so when the freak only answered in grunts and nods.
He looked unimpressed then and not much has changed now, but Touya wishes he could catch a glimpse of his lower face, maybe see a blush on his cheeks or just a sliver of more than his dark shaggy hair and piercing red eyes visible above the easel he hides behind.
This gig is just as much about the kid's grade as it is stroking his own ego, after all.
Touya can’t see it, but he hears the scratch of charcoal on canvas as the kid promptly gets back to work. His grin turns sharp, unkind in the face of this blase bastard, as he casually remarks, “If you’re struggling with proportions, don’t be shy, feel free to get a closer look.”
For the first time since Touya entered the room, the kid finally opens his mouth.
“Not much to see.” His voice is a soft, scratchy murmur, almost lost among the drag of his charcoal on the canvas he is very pointedly fixating on. Touya throws his head back to laugh, momentarily startled enough by the blunt reply to toss away his dedication to the pose.
The kid's tone was bland, feeding into that unbothered facade, but Touya is a notoriously obnoxious bastard and he hasn’t met anyone immune to his Insufferable charm.
He’ll have to step it up a notch.
Settling back into the pose, he mockingly comments, “Oh, so it barks.” Those carmine eyes dart to his through the curtain of inky black bangs, narrow slowly into a glare.
“I prefer not to start on irrelevant features. Your Frankenstein dick doesn’t stand out to me. Who even wants that many piercings anyway...”
“Hah and it bites too!”
Touya senses the subtle hint of frustration in Shimura’s clipped tone when he replies.
“It has a name, asshole.”
Bingo.
“Did you want a showcase of that as well? I’d hate to deny the artist his muse, but it’ll cost ya, kid.” Touya can’t hide his taunting smirk as those red eyes grow wide before they darken into a glower Touya can practically feel.
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re either a freak or a prude. I’d put my money on both but here you are anyway, drawing my naked ass for extra credit. Lighten up.”
They lapse immediately back into silence and Touya sighs loudly into it as he rearranges his body - how boring.
“Ya’ know, you seem more like the type to start with feet actually. Creepy little fuck that you are.” It’s an offhand comment at this point, not one he expects to get a response from but-
“...I start with the hands.” Touya raises an eyebrow and cocks his head up to lengthen the column of his tattooed neck while he contemplates a new pose.
“The fuck? Why?” Shimura replies quickly, borderline defensive.
“Same reason you’re so hung up on your dick, it’s an immediate expression of intention and character...or in your case, the whole personality.”
Touya laughs as he leans back, kicks one leg up to lay loose across his thigh while he props an elbow over the back of the chair, letting his hand dangle limply as he wiggles his fingers at the crotchety kid.“I’m hurt, Shimura. Here I thought we were really starting to get somewhere.”
Shimura sighs shallowly, averts his gaze briefly out the window. “All I’m getting is uncomfortable.”
The confession is low, unsettled, and Touya feels a stab of empathy for the kid. He’s been in his shoes before; easy to rile up, hard to take a joke. Touya decides to tone it down and level with him, make the next forty minutes pass by a little easier for them both.
“Hey, wanna know why I start with pointing out the obvious? Helps break the ice.” At the disbelieving look Shimura sends his way, he elaborates with a shrug. “My job is to share the beauty of the naked body, not make you uncomfortable by it. So, if I have, that’s on me. Wasn’t my intention, but you gotta acknowledge your own stigma of viewing nudity as uncomfortable... and maybe before you book an hour appointment with a naked stranger?”
Silence falls between them again, but it feels less tense.
“...It’s not your dick I’m uncomfortable with, it’s your shitty mouth that won’t stop moving.”
Well, Touya’s certainly heard that one before.
“You really want to spend an hour in silence as you draw said shitty mouth?” Shimura makes a noise of annoyance and sets down his charcoal loudly, brings a slender hand up from behind the easel to tug at his hair: he leaves a smudge of gray near his right eye.
“Why do you do this? What’s in it for you? A free ego boost and a pass for sexual harassment?” Touya’s taken aback by the sudden vitriol in the kid’s voice and lets his smirk fall with his pose, sitting up straight against the accusation.
Shit, he’s gotta clear the air quick.
“Dude, calm down. I told you why I’m doing this and yeah...the stroke to my ego doesn’t hurt, but more importantly, why are you doing this? I’m here out of necessity created by you.”
The only sound in the room for a beat is Shimura’s nails slowly raking across his own skin.
“I’ve missed too many classes. Had to call out for studies that gave high marks. If there were any other options available to catch up, believe me, I would have gladly taken them.”
Touya notes the frustration in his tone, the way his hand has taken to scratching more rapidly at his skin and takes a quick glance at the clock behind Shimura’s turned back, noting they’re coming up on the half-hour mark of their session. He sighs and stands with a groan, stretching his back as he goes to grab the robe hanging by the door.
“Let’s take a break, yeah? Think we got off on the wrong foot anyway.” Shimura doesn’t respond, but Touya honestly doesn’t expect him to.
So much for breaking the ice, Touya’s somehow made it thicker. It’s the perpetual drawback of his ‘shitty mouth’ that Touya’s never quite learned from.
So it’s time for option two, then; small talk.
The only saving grace of a big mouth.
“I’m a social service major with a minor in psychology. What are you studying, kid?”
Shimura’s eyes follow him blankly as he grabs a smoke from his jacket pocket and heads to the nearest window to crack it open and light up. Touya waves a hand flippantly to break the disbelieving air after he takes his first drag. “Yeah, I know, not what you were expecting right? Hear that shit all the time. Wanna smoke?”
Shimura shakes his head. The scratching slows to a stop.
“...I’m focusing on studio arts and taking game dev. on the side.” Is his timid response, all the anger from a few minutes ago pacified- by what exactly? Touya hums low in acknowledgment, still off-put by the way Shimura hides half his face resolutely behind the easel.
“Game development, huh. You definitely strike me as a nerd.” Shimura rolls his eyes and fires back quickly, “Why social services?”
It’s a question he gets often that never gets easier to answer. Touya breathes out a plume of smoke as he mills over a reply that won’t sound like he’s unpacking his childhood trauma on some stranger.
“Seen too many kids suffering without any real means of support. Wanna help how I can, give hopeless kids a reason to keep going.” Shimura tilts his head with a soft noise and those bright red eyes, appraising, curious, are glued to Touya’s form leaning up against the wall as if seeing him for the first time.
“That’s...pretty admirable.” Touya hums and cracks a wry smile, looks away out the window, uncomfortable with the genuine note in Shimura’s raspy voice.
“No need to sound so surprised. I know I look like bad news, and I mostly am, but not when it comes to what I care about.” Tomura seems to pick up on something in his tone but doesn’t comment as he easily changes the subject.
“Why’d you get into posing? You’re obviously not body shy but they normally try and vet less...decorated models.” Touya laughs at the comment and flicks ash out the window, turning back to meet those blood red eyes again.
What a captivating gaze...
“I owed Giran a favor a while back, helped fill in for some absent model. Ended up on the regular roster- well, more the irregular one. Giran schedules me where I’m needed.”
“And why were you needed here, today?” Touya smirks at the question and slips off his robe again, flicks the smoking butt of his cigarette carelessly out the window before he moves to settle back into his chair.
“Because, dear Shimura, your teacher will get hard over all the painstaking work you’ll put into that canvas to capture such complex beauty and reward you with bonus points on your assignment. I’m your trump card. If there’s one thing I know about you artists, you all bust a nut over some quality attention to detail.”
Touya’s startled by the soft chuckle he manages to wring out of the kid, sits dumb and still and naked on the chair watching those pretty ruby eyes crinkle with laughter behind the easel.
Cute...and he hasn’t even seen his full face yet.
“Yeah, sure, fine. If I don’t get enough credit to make up my assignments with this session, I’m holding you to it, Todoroki.”
“Call me Touya.” He blurts out, unthinking; Touya is one part disgusted with hearing himself called by his father’s name and two parts curious to hear his own on Shimura’s tongue.
He raises a brow and makes a soft, questioning noise but obliges him anyway.
“Alright, Touya.”
And his breath does not get caught in his throat when Shimura says his name like that and looks at him with eyes just a bit softer than before, it doesn’t. Touya doesn’t fall that easily for prickly, creepy little art students but his rapidly beating heart apparently didn’t get the memo.
“Let’s try something else. Sit still until I say so, okay? I’ll guide you how I want you.”
And - holy shit what the fuck- where did that self-assured confidence come from all of a sudden? Touya doesn’t have time to ponder as Shimura tells him to move his arms this way and that, Touya pliant and too shell shocked to refuse until he’s poised just how Shimura wants.
What a weird, enigmatic kid; strangely charming, too.
Touya wants to know more about him.
The rest of their time together goes much the same: Shimura softly requesting subtle rearrangements of his body, Touya obediently moving as if he’s a puppet controlled by Shimura's strings- and, well, he is.
Touya’s glad he quit badgering and toned down the teasing, he much prefers this kid to who he first walked in on. That intense gaze doesn’t feel so indifferent and his voice is surprisingly soothing with all its raspy notes. The hour comes and goes and Shimura finally glances up at him in a way that isn’t so studious, more shy in nature.
“I think we're done. I have enough reference poses to create a cleaner version. You can, uh, put your clothes back on now if you want.”
Touya can’t rise to the bait fast enough as he stands and makes a show of stretching his back and arms, flexing muscles that ripple enticingly under tattoos and piercings alike.
Shimura looks away, a beat too slow.
“And if I don’t?” He taunts with a grin.
“...I think the security guards might have a problem with you walking naked around campus.” Shimura’s voice is dryly amused.
“Just the security guards?” A breathy little chuckle has Touya scrambling for his pants to avoid giving Shimura an actual reason to claim sexual harassment - how the fuck did he get so cute over the course of an hour?
“You said it yourself, not everyone views nudity the same. I’m sure you’d traumatize some poor, unsuspecting person with that pincushion you call a dick.”
Touya thinks about that time he walked in on Enji and Rei going at it, tapping into his own experience of being traumatized by nudity to kill any excitement his body might feel for Shimura - he’s practically a stranger what the fuck. “Hopefully I didn’t traumatize you too much.” He mumbles as he pulls his shirt over his head and reaches for his leather jacket.
Shimura makes a thoughtful noise before confessing without an ounce of restraint, “You're kind of annoying is all.” Touya turns around to pin a scowl on Shimura whose eyes twinkle with mischief.
What a cheeky shit.
Touya’s damn near in love.
“As if you’re a nice fuckin’ walk in the park yourself! Lemme’ see your work. Rules of being the model, I get to burn it if it sucks.” Touya strides over still barefoot to take an eager peek behind the easel. He takes a quick glance at the canvas, and then at Shimura, finally to see that face in full before he looks straight back at the canvas because-
“Wait, it’s not-!“
“Holy shit.”
The canvas is filled with Touya: big, small, posed this way and that in corners and margins, but the central figure is not quite him. Bigger than the rest, a Shimura directed, posed and drawn centerpiece among them all, Touya has been transformed into something new.
The tattoos covering his body have been delicately shaded and inscribed with intricate patterns that blanket him in a patchwork of hazy textured skin, a brazen shortcut to mark the X’s on the map of where his body is densely inked. The details in Shimura’s deliberate choice to opt-out of putting time into his elaborate tattoos but to cover them in an even more complicated way is baffling but mesmerizing; Touya is enraptured with the sharp lines and soft contours of his body Shimura has captured in precise strokes and shades, a beautiful contrast Touya is amazed to see in himself, so different than what he sees in the mirror.
His shock of white hair is near lineless, almost glowing on the canvas like a halo, shaped by wispy charcoal shadows that dance around his head like a crown of flames. And his eyes, blank holes of negative space offset by deep shadows underneath, stare out of the canvas menacingly. How Shimura managed to convey such emotion through pupil-less eyes makes Touya lean in closer for a better look.
His face, too, has been color-blocked, bisected from the lower jaw down his neck with that same unique pattern traced underneath the shaded charcoal. His grin is impossibly, mockingly wide, reminds Touya of manic days and smiling through family photos, pulled uncomfortably taught at the tangible seams Shimura has carved into his skin.
It’s all him, every line, just a wonderfully imaginative and eerily transparent version. He hasn’t been drawn like this before, so different but so...him.
“Shimura, this is…”
It’s the rawest portrayal of himself Touya has ever seen. It leaves him near speechless, but Shimura pipes up nervously to fill his trailing silence.
“I-I can’t get very detailed with charcoal, um, so I took a few liberties here and there and, well, I-you kind of inspired me, a bit, for a character I’m working on for a, uh, a game with a friend so I kinda just went with it since it’s a study and not the final draft so I-if you think it’s weird I’m sorry-” Touya interrupts Shimura’s endearingly nervous rambling.
“Shut up. This is the coolest shit I've ever seen. What do you mean you can’t get detailed with charcoal? Are we looking at the same thing here?!” Touya leans closer still and braces a hand unthinkingly on Shimura’s shoulder to steady himself, unaware of the shiver that travels through his slight form.
Up close he examines the other drawings, different poses, and admires the grasp on anatomy Shimura has. He must like hands, a lot, because there’s plenty of his scattered throughout the large easel gesticulating in different ways. He even drew Touya’s rings and piercings - and after a quick glance around the easel, he could confirm Shimura captured all of them. Touya whistles low and turns his attention back to the drawing of himself in the center.
“Man, this is incredible. I feel, like, flattered that I was your muse for this. You’ve got real talent and trust me, I’ve seen lots of good drawings but...this takes the cake. What year are you again? Your anatomy is damn near-”
Touya turns mid-sentence to look at Shimura, really look at him, and his words fail him once more.
Shimura is very pretty. He’s blushing. He has a beauty mark like a drop of ink near his mouth.
Their faces are very, very close.
“...perfect.”
They stare at one another: Shimura at Touya’s blank face, Touya at Shimura’s increasingly flustered expression. His eyes are big and wide, so different from that cold glare he was leveling Touya with earlier, and his mouth is chapped but full and Touya suddenly wants to kiss it.
“Shimura.”
“...Yes?”
“What’s your name.” Shimura blinks and his scarred brow furrows.
“You just said it.”
“No. Your name.” Touya stresses the last word with a squeeze to his shoulder which, huh, he’s still holding onto.
“I’m...Tenko.”
“Tenko,” Touya savors the name in his mouth for a second, letting his tongue take in the sweetness of it before he continues, “let me buy you a drink.”
Tenko’s expression shifts rapid-fire between four different emotions Touya can easily pinpoint: surprise, anger, embarrassment, indifference. He roughly knocks Touya’s hand away with that icy stare he started their session off with and stands up swiftly, cheeks flushed a splotchy red.
Huh, he’s shorter than Touya.
“No.” Tenko’s voice is just as cold as his stare as he moves to start packing away his art supplies.
Touya straightens up and opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again; he’s never been rejected so swiftly.
“What? Why no?” He should have figured Tenko would play hard to get.
“I don’t know you.” Tenko’s answer is immediate as he turns his back on Touya’s incredulous expression to shove things roughly into his bag.
“Oh, come on! You’ve already seen my dick, I think you know me well enough.”
“No, Todoroki, you don’t even know me either!” Touya scowls at the formal switch up, at the use of his last name as Tenko attempts to put distance between them that Touya wants to bridge. He takes a step closer so he can see Tenko’s profile: his cheeks are still flushed, scarred brows furrowed over those striking red eyes, but that full mouth of his is twisted into a pout that belies his initial anger.
God, is he cute.
“Call me Touya, please, and I want to, Tenko.” He tries his best to sound earnest, something foreign to him through all his endless taunting and teasing, but he must hit the nail on the head as Tenko sighs and stills his shuffling hands.
He glances at Touya out of the corner of his eye before turning to face him fully, tilting his head again as he had earlier, eyes staring intently into his own as if searching for something.“...How did spending an hour together in mostly silence make you want to get to know me?”
Touya goes the honest route again and shrugs, lost to higher thought with those sharp red eyes pinned on him, unable to rationalize his sudden interest himself.
Touya simply feels drawn to Tenko.
“I dunno, I just...want to. So go get a drink with me?”
Tenko contemplates his words for a long minute, where he shifts on his feet and bites his lip and doesn’t break eye contact for more than a blink. His flush deepens as he mumbles, “...I’m not 21 yet.”
“What? How old are you?” Instantly Touya panics, thinking about that one time Giran almost sent him to model for a group of high school students by accident.
Shit, he should have asked before they got started.
“I turn 20 in April.” Touya rocks back on his heels with a sigh of relief at the quiet admission before he smirks and slips his hands into his pockets.
“Jesus, you really are a kid then.”
“At least I don’t act like one.” Tenko’s retort is quick and biting as he snatches his canvas from the easel and slides it into its case. He must be a younger sibling.
Touya can’t fight off a chuckle.
“You wound me, Tenko, don’t you find me charming?” Because I’m charmed by you, he thinks idly. Touya shifts closer still, drawn into Tenko’s orbit like a planet just discovering its gravitational pull - or maybe the center of its universe.
“You’re certainly better with your clothes on…” Tenko mumbles under his breath, a smirk curling the edges of his chapped lips. Touya can’t hide the widening of his grin, too.
He likes that Tenko isn’t afraid to talk back, to keep up with Touya’s teasing no matter how bothered by it he was from the get-go. Tenko has jumped back and forth between shy and bratty so quickly it almost gives Touya whiplash: but in a way that he likes, makes his heart race with anticipation and his normally witty mouth struggle to keep up.
Touya doesn’t think he’s ever met someone quite like Tenko before.
“There’s a gaming cafe I like to go to,” Tenko starts as he finishes gathering his things, “they have good coffee.”
“Lead the way.” Tenko seems amused by how quickly he replies, that smirk turned teasing as he shoulders his bag.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
They stare at one another for a moment, grinning like fools in the quiet of the art studio before Tenko breaks eye contact to hoist up his portfolio case.
There’s a pretty mellowed flush settled high on his cheeks.
“I have to drop this off at my dorm first and take care of a few things...maybe I could try and squeeze you into my schedule for the evening.”
Touya replies with an easy grin as he follows Tenko while he moves towards the doorway. “Awe, don’t be like that Tenko. I could give you a private session at my place instead, if you wanted to sweeten the deal.”
Tenko’s frown is obvious even with his back turned. “No. I want to beat my high score, not see your Frankenstein dick again.”
Tenko stops to turn around on the threshold of the doorway, forced to look up at Touya as he crowds forward into Tenko’s space, pressing him gently up against the door jam. Touya meets those calculating eyes framed by thick dark lashes and murmurs lowly, “That would be Frankenstein’s Monster dick to you, Tenko.”
Touya can’t help himself all of a sudden, brings his hand up to slowly wipe away the charcoal Tenko smudged earlier by his eye with the pad of his thumb.
His skin is textured but supple.
Tenko’s eyes go feather soft and honey sweet again as he glances up through his lashes, a breathy sigh leaving him in a rush as Touya’s touch lingers. “You're disgusting...and you’re paying”, he says softly, a stubborn note to his quiet words, and Touya’s grin turns just a bit deranged.
“Of course, the only perk of being a Todoroki is unlimited access to the old man’s credit cards.” Tenko laughs and Touya’s stomach fills with butterflies: he feels the puff of Tenko’s warm breath against his throat.
Is this the feeling Fuyumi gets while watching her cheesy romance dramas?
Tenko pulls away slowly, wishfully reluctant in Touya’s eyes. A smirk taunts the edge of his lips when he confesses, “Hm, if that’s the case then we might get along after all.”
Touya trails behind Tenko out into the hallway, a love sick dog collared and leashed by a pretty face - and a nice ass too now that Touya thinks to look.
He opens his mouth when his mind is distracted by the eyeful in front of him.“I’m never bad company, Tenko. I could show you a real nice time back at mine-“
Tenko’s sidelong glare shuts him up quick and Touya raises his hands in surrender with a wide grin. “Come on, my dick’s not that freaky looking...right?” Tenko huffs and rolls his eyes but there’s an amused lilt to his mouth that Touya can’t quite parse - until Tenko’s composure cracks and he starts laughing with abandon.
Touya grins and ducks down a bit to get eye level, amused by the sudden mischief in Tenko’s eyes, awed by the beauty of his scarred face - eager to be let in on the joke, too.
“What’s so funny, Tenko?” Touya watches as he calms down from whatever made him break out into giggles before he shoots Touya with that unexpected confidence again.
“Who knew Todoroki Touya would be such a simp…” The words take him by surprise, which Tenko takes enjoyment in with the way his lips twitch to fight off a grin and his unblinking eyes widen.
“I think you’re forgetting something.” Touya cocks his brow in confusion, very lost all of a sudden, until Tenko smirks and glances down at their feet. His gaze slowly follows and oh- it’s Touya’s turn to flush.
In his excitement at Tenko’s (tentative) agreement to let Touya take him out, he forgot to put his shoes on in the studio, followed Tenko barefoot down the length of the hallway like a lost puppy trailing at his heels.
Normally Touya’s the one getting chased after, not the other way around - whether for his looks, his reputation, his wealth (well, the old man’s wealth really) Touya’s gotten more propositions than if he’d been working the corner. Touya can’t think of one instance where he’s taken the initiative, to have actually needed to put in the effort or to compromise to get what he wanted.
Tenko really is something special, he realizes with a start. Touya clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed in a way he hasn’t felt in a long while.
“Uh, I should grab those…” Tenko’s eyes crinkle with a wry smile at Touya’s sudden chagrin.
“Yeah, probably. Meet me in front of the South dorms at 5. Don’t keep me waiting.” And with a smile sweeter than sugar, Tenko turns and is off on his way, leaving Touya to call out to him from behind, barefoot and blushing, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Tenko.”
I really am a fucking simp, he also realizes, belatedly.
As he turns to jog back into the studio and grab his boots, Tenko’s sweet, breathy laugh trails after him down the hallway.
Touya can’t wait to hear it again.
He’ll have to make sure Giran sets him up as a regular for any of Tenko’s future needs: at least, the ones Touya won’t be able to satisfy himself.