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“You should be thinking about what color would look best on you.”
Luchino hums - budged out of his stupor.
“Instead of staring at me.”
He scratches the back of his neck, and smiles nervously.
Orpheus files down bitten-down claws with a newly found chutzpah—powered by Luchino’s lack of care for his physical appearance. Sure he gets dressed up for his meetings and such, but other than that, it's hardly a matter of concern for him. It may stand that Orpheus thinks it works out quite well for him, but with a little routine, it could be even more so. Summer is beginning and their work schedules are waning, thus Orpheus finds no better time.
He brings an alcohol wipe to the surface of the nail, freshly filed, and gently wipes it down. Its pungent, clinical stench hits his nose yet he doesn't even flinch.
“Hm, “ Luchino starts, as he swings his legs off of the stool, “I think a shade of white would be nice.”
Orpheus hums, affirming. He blows off nail dust into the ether, “Maybe, but you do mostly wear white. It wouldn’t stand out as much.”
“Why would it matter?“ Luchino tilts his head slightly, an unconscious practice, “I haven’t seen others stare at my hands, let alone my nails.”
Orpheus’ mouth slants. Brilliant, yet clueless.
He files off his ring finger and blows once more, “No one tells you when they are observing you. It’s important to look your best whenever possible.”
“You haven’t told me about this until now, “he appraises his newly filed hand with glee, “Was I not presentable before?”
“I would have told you, trust me, “ Orpheus beckons said hand and wipes it down, “Be glad that you are…, naturally, very easy on the eyes.”
He gets to work on his left hand. It’s a bit better than his dominant - less bitten, and less abused in comparison, though not spared from Orpheus' judgement. He wipes off the file with a precise hand and regains his diligence. Within a war of presentability, Orpheus will always remain the victor.
He begins on the first finger, and he feels a tap on his thigh. Bored, and eager his love is.
"Yes?" He responds, not looking up from the task at hand.
"Have you done this before?"
His tone is curious, yet willing. Had Orpheus been too occupied -too fixated on the shape and state of his nails to recognize that Luchino needed his daily fix of knowledge to keep running? The twinkle in his eyes when Orpheus looks to him, incredulous, is so enchanting that it makes him angry. Sad to say, he never asks stupid questions.
"Yes, with my sister. She showed me when I was around, I would say…, twelve years old. She painted mine as a joke, at first."
Luchino nods absentmindedly, "At first?"
"At first, " Orpheus repeats, "I don't remember much, but I figure that I grew to like it very quickly. Though, I mostly did hers rather than my own."
"Why so?"
"I'm not that sure, " he flies down a little harder, "I prefer my fingers to be more deft. Having nail polish on weighs them down. After developing an intimacy with your hands for so long, you remember their weight, and want to keep it as is. "
Luchino hums, "How odd… I've never considered my own 'hand weight' before. Is that a common practice I'm not aware of?"
"No, not at all, " Sweetness moves through Orpheus' teeth, "Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, I was just curious. You're working hard to make me pretty - "
"Presentable." Orpheus corrects.
"Yes, 'presentable', excuse me. You seemed to know what you were doing. That is all."
Orpheus scoffs. He wouldn't be doing this if he was intimately aware of how to navigate it. Why would he do something he did not know how to do?
Orpheus looks up from his aggressive filing of his ring finger to Luchino's pleased gaze. The afternoon sun pours out the window right behind him. He can feel its heat from the beam, but he knows Luchino loves it. His eyes are lidded, a bit sleepy, yet the sun makes him look so vibrant - so beautiful. The professor's features are very sharp, so his bones cut through the light and create shadow divides on his face and neck. Orpheus doesn't draw, but he could admire art when he sees it.
Though, lest he gets sucked in, he keeps his eyes on the task at hand.
He wipes off the last nail, and blows off any remaining dust for good measure. He lets go of his hand and oh my, Luchino makes the cutest face he's seen yet. Genuine adoration fills his gaze as he gawks at his fingers. His serpentine-like smile, usually fixed to smirks and sneers, shifts into a curious cat-like look, as though it just found a new toy. He didn't even finish, yet it looks as though he had just done a life-saving procedure on him, and it turned out to be a success.
"They look wonderful, " his smile turns wide, "Thank you, amore mio."
He brings his renewed hands to either side of Orpheus' face, completely encasing his cheeks. Damn him for having such long, beautiful fingers and such soft, soft hands because the novelist relaxes at the feeling within an instant. He can feel himself flush from the neck upwards in the mere milliseconds he holds him, and tries to stifle every emotion his nerves could signal. He might explode, he might not - it's a toss-up.
But certainty favors one option when the professor kisses him - brief and sweet. He has had funeral arrangements for a while now, but his expectations for living were a bit short, as well as embarrassing. Who is going to keel over and die because their Lovecraftian lizard-human boyfriend kissed them? Not Orpheus. Not when he had so much to live for.
So, he sucks it up as best as he can.
"…I'm doing this for my own peace of mind, " he puts his tools back, and gets ready to remove his cuticles, "I'd rather you not look like a mess outdoors."
He is lying through his teeth, and Luchino knows that. His face shifts to mischief, and a smirk fixes onto his face.
"Oh? Aren't I quote, 'very easy on the eyes'? Your face isn't hiding anything either."
He brings his hands back to his face, possibly to catch his bluff, though it succeeds with flying colors when Orpheus yelps. God, he is bad at this. Why does he even bother with racking on Luchino when he just melts under pressure? Is he a metal or something? He is the most famous novelist of his generation, not some touch-starved weirdo. Ah, how he disappoints himself.
And, wow, he really disappoints himself when Luchino peppers his face with kisses, pausing in between to catch glimpses of his adorable 'gape moe'. Heat beats off of him as though he were irradiated, and he can feel the blood coursing under his skin. It is only when the professor stops gushing and cooing that Orpheus can regain a minute portion of his composure.
"Ah, sorry, " Luchino sits back, releasing Orpheus from his torment, "Got a bit carried away there. I shouldn't distract you from the task at hand."
Orpheus stills with his heart beating in his ears, then nods in acknowledgment.
"…Just lend me your hand."
And Luchino does so eagerly. Orpheus takes a once-over at his newly oval nails, and lets pride fill him. He has an eye for measurements and symmetry, so he shouldn't be surprised that they came out so nice. But the addition of Luchino's long, elegant fingers frames the image so nicely. He makes his job so easy - so effortless.
He has his hands again, and is ready to work. Surprisingly, he makes his job even easier when they are barely visible. Unsurprisingly, though, is the occasional hangnail on his hands, albeit quite small. He makes quick work of the skin areas - taking care not to accidentally cut Luchino. He doubts he would even feel it, but he would be damned to leave a scar on his silken skin.
One experimental blow of air over his fingers, and then he was done. Luchino looks again at his fingers, though not as impressed as last time. To be fair, hangnails and cuticles provide little to no significant change when removed, yet Orpheus feels that it puts the picture together with their absence. Just a bit closer to that perfect image, he would say.
He removes the nail tools from his makeshift workspace and brings back a collection of nail polish, custom-made. He doesn't paint his nails really any other color other than a clear sheen, nor does he have any intention to do otherwise, but luckily he has a willing participant to try all of them out on - within reason. Something tells him that he would look much prettier with a color other than white.
"Do you still want white?" Orpheus asks, eyes skimming for the color in question.
"I'm not that sure actually, " Luchino taps on his chin, but then smiles suddenly - struck with an idea, "You can choose for me. I'm not very decisive on these things you know."
He is - very much so when the situation calls for it, but Orpheus assumes that he is much too trusting in his abilities to say otherwise.
How fortunate, though, that nail care and design were two skills Orpheus excelled in. He could've accidentally (or maliciously) picked out the ugliest color he could have, and potentially drawn concerned, disgusted eyes to his dearest.
Thankfully, he would not allow that to happen. Luchino needed to be the most stunning man in the room at all times, and he already had an idea to make it work.
His eyes track to a spot on his neck, almost second nature. Right in the hollow of his collarbone expanding upwards onto his neck, about three by three inches wide was a glistening patch of 'skin' (as seen from afar). It accented his face so naturally like a necklace or earrings, but was so much more. Upon closer inspection, it appears a translucent gradient between celadon and a faint turquoise - though, no two were ever the same. The ones on his chest and legs had a greater propensity towards being majority green, whilst his arms and face area were mostly blue though under the sunlight they all sparkled - just like those pearls held within clams. At the right angle, during sunny days, the sun's rays pass through its glassy structure - carrying their colors like a prism.
It's like Luchino grows jewels in his skin - precious items that many would pay for. Orpheus would call it a miracle that the professor would be with him willingly. It would mean a possible fortune's worth saved of his already large fortune.
Though, that was a thought for later. More searching, more scouring.
He picks out the colors that match his scales best, and holds them out for Luchino to see.
"Are these to your taste?" Orpheus asks, his calm voice betraying his racing heart.
"Oh, " Luchino nods, parsing out their colors, "They look very nice! I assume nail polish is designed to not melt easily, correct?"
"…Yes?" The novelist raises his eyebrow, "It betrays its purpose in protecting the nail if it melts. Unless you're setting your hands on fire in your office, it would stay intact."
Luchino exhaled slightly, relieved, "That's good. Though, I do not appreciate my attempts at safety being waved away so callously."
"I am not disregarding your safety, " Orpheus shakes the bottle, uncapping it, and dipping the brush of green a few times. The professor positions his hands for painting at the movement, starting with his right, "I am merely being facetious. I fully trust that you are not actually lighting yourself on fire. Now stay still."
He starts with a light coat at first, nothing too thick to remove if he isn't happy with it. It takes a bit to cover over the black of his nails, but it goes by quickly. He finishes it with ten minutes, and pulls away.
"Avoid touching your hands. They need to dry."
Orpheus packs the color back into the casing before taking out a sheer clear polish. He shakes it like before, looking at his recent work in the meanwhile. Luchino places his hands flat on his thighs, obviously fighting the urges already. He is more overtly touchy than Orpheus but he has been there many a time; and for how much he plans to do this, the professor will have to get used to it.
Now this would be the time to figure out a cohesive design. He has many ideas that he wants to try, but it comes to him a bit late when he realizes that Luchino still has to go to work, and anything too extraneous might prove a detriment to his projects. A simple design would do - nothing too intricate, but still pleasing to the eye. Flat colors only, no add-ons, and the like. Blue and green are naturally analogous, so Orpheus wouldn't have to wrack his brain for anything too complicated.
Then it hits him.
He needs a finer brush and a sponge.
"Give me a second. Keep your hands there."
His closet was the home of his many upkeep items. No more than a few feet from their bed, and quite sizeable - it proved useful to house all of his care products when the bathroom couldn't realistically fit them all. Although it became disorganized over time, Orpheus knows it like the back of his hand. He picks out the nail brushes under a pile of flowery soaps and steamers and returns promptly to his seat on the bed.
Funnily enough, Luchino is right exactly where he was trying eagerly to not interact with anything. With the way he's hellbent on not moving, Orpheus takes the liberty of touching it to see if a top layer had formed. When he sees that it hasn't, he sifts through his brush bag and produces a sponge and a thin-bristled brush. He pats off the top half of his nails and a visible amount off of the bottom half. Then, he paints a thick layer of the colors in thin stripes - just enough of them both to fill the area of his nail. He brushes off any excess with a pointed precision, a deep-seated want for his vision to come to fruition bubbling forward. Once finished, he pats it down on one and grins at the result---a pretty gradient of his lover's scales; no two looking the same, yet harmonious at the same time. When he repeats it again and again on every nail, it looks even more so - like a choir and their parts of a symphony. Some had more of the green shade than others---mixing in almost one color akin to the deep greens of the forest. Others had more blue---deepening their color.
It reminded him of his days all alone, in his study. His favorite weather was rainstorms, after all. Dark rain clouds, and the blue-tinted night that shades the small town were right there with him when he writes.
He was content. It looked beautiful.
He looks to Luchino for feedback, but he soon realizes he doesn't need to. His fingers were out of his hold, and currently being ogled at intently. Orpheus could swear he could see a sparkle in his eyes as he appraised his handiwork, and appraise he did.
"You have outdone yourself, Orpheus, " Luchino says, not even sparing him a glance, "Your hands are quite skilled, I would say."
"You shouldn't have expected anything less." Orpheus tilts his head, curious about his preconceived assumption.
"I didn't - think of it as an addition to your talents, " he gathers him within his arms, closing the distance between them, yet just barely kept apart, "Your overabundance of talents."
Orpheus could feel his brain crash and start-up like an old laptop - its fans revving and blowing from the simplest processes.
"W-well, " Orpheus stutters audibly, and bites his tongue for doing something like that, "It's a simple design - nothing eye-catching or impressive. If this is a show of my 'overabundance' of talent, then I would take it as an insult."
Luchino pauses the fanning of his hands to pull the most distressing smirk he's seen from him.
"So, why do this at all if you weren't going to try? I'd say it's unlike the famed Orpheus Deross to 'half-ass' something. That would be beneath you no? If I were to guess…"
Luchino's head moved to his ear, pressed close with his arms around his neck. His breath is so even for how evil his actions are.
"I would say that you were lying to me this entire time. You wanted to doll me up, hm?"
Hm indeed.
In retrospect, he cannot refute his claims. He couldn't help but appraise his treasure after all. So what if he wanted a metaphorical 'doll'? He didn't need Luchino's approval to make it so. If he wanted to doll up his lover under the guise of presentability, he was well within his right to do so.
Luchino unlatches from him - his devious smirk still housing the entirety of his mouth. He knows he has him beat.
Orpheus rolls his eyes, trying to feign annoyance, "So what? My sentiments from earlier still hold true, only under different pretenses. Does it make a difference?"
If anyone were to know the intricacies of language, it would be him. The knowing look he receives in return affirms it tenfold, and the smirk that comes with it even more so. A face that knows it won the battle - ready to claim his prize.
Well, Orpheus' schemes always had a way of falling apart before him.
Luchino practically pounces on him, pulling him into one of his signature ineffable holds nary a human could escape from. His kisses held coos that he could barely understand, and the ones he did understand were praising how adorable he was. If he weren't so flattered, he'd surely try to stop him yet the effort is futile. Once Luchino gets his prey, there is little chance of escape - as per the laws of survival. He just has to wait until he gets his fill, and accept a fate that heats his soul and makes him feel whole.
Ah, well, it's just something he has to accept. Nothing to do unless Luchino decides to spare him early, to which he'll have Alice proceed with the funeral arrangements as soon as possible.
All he hopes is that he doesn't mess up his nail polish.