Soft, pleasant music drifted from the speakers. Only instruments were playing; no voice carried the melody, and yet there was so much power behind it that one couldn't help but listen.
Benedict didn't know much about classical music or art in general, but he absorbed everything new he learned about Isaac.
Or perhaps he should say that he focused on it completely so he would have an anchor to cling to at all. Because when he had said that he wanted to cheer Isaac up, he had not expected this situation.
Quietly, the pencil scratched across the paper under Isaac's guidance.
Who would have expected to end up standing half-naked in a studio afterward, being closely examined by the very person for whom one had fresh, still unreturned feelings? Standing here and holding exactly the position Isaac had put him in was quite exhausting—especially with all the wounds he had sustained from his fight with Moonshadow. At the same time, the situation was exciting.
Did Isaac like what he saw?
Benedict would give a great deal to hear his thoughts.
Soft footsteps approached him. He stood with his back to Isaac; instinctively, he wanted to turn around to face him. He wanted to see Isaac's face, even if only for a second.
"Don't move," Isaac's voice sounded directly behind him.
The words stopped Benedict in mid-motion.
"Sorry," slipped out of him.
"Can you do one more thing for me?" Isaac asked calmly.
Anything you want, Benedict thought.
"My whole body aches from standing, but I can hold out a bit longer," he joked instead. "What should I do?"
"You have quite a bit of stamina," came the amused reply behind him. "After all, you've been standing here very nicely for over an hour and haven't complained once."
That choice of words again, Benedict thought, feeling heat rise to his face.
Suddenly, Isaac's cool fingers touched his skin. He flinched involuntarily as Isaac slowly traced the contours of his muscles.
"I… I've always had good endurance," Benedict murmured hoarsely.
"I have no doubt about that." Isaac's finger pressed lightly into his skin. "Fascinating how soft your skin is, even though at first glance one would expect your muscles to be rock hard."
His palm slid over Benedict's shoulder and slowly traveled down his back.
"It really is smooth."
Benedict cleared his throat softly. "Should I stand differently?"
"Not yet."
Isaac's hands explored his body without hesitation.
His touches wandered lower to his lower back.
"This is better than I expected. The play of light and shadow on your body is breathtaking," Isaac breathed. He lifted Benedict's right arm. "Even this small change in position creates a completely different image. Who would have thought I could learn so much through you?"
His voice now sounded noticeably more excited.
He brushed along Benedict's side, and finally his hand moved over his chest muscle. Benedict held his breath as Isaac continued to trace the contours. Damn—everywhere Isaac touched him seemed to leave blazing flames behind. In fact, he was almost glad Isaac couldn't see him from the front, because then he would notice what was going on in his pants.
When Isaac's fingertips grazed his nipple, Benedict had to suppress the urge to turn around and simply kiss him. The situation was becoming increasingly… complicated. And everything in him longed for Isaac to touch him exactly where his penis pressed painfully hard and expectant against the fabric of his jeans.
The way the albino touched him was both bold and careful — focused, almost curious, yet marked by an almost innocent seriousness.
All at once, Benedict felt as if he had been thrown back into his teenage years.
How did Isaac manage so effortlessly to stir up all these feelings in him? The desire tightened uncomfortably in his chest, and nothing Isaac said helped him calm down.
Why was it so hard for him to keep himself together when it came to Isaac?
"You're breathing heavily," Isaac observed.
No wonder—he had to restrain himself quite a bit not to simply moan. They were still far from the point where he could just kiss and touch Isaac. On the one hand, because Benedict himself didn't yet feel one hundred percent ready. On the other, because he couldn't gauge how Isaac would react.
Isaac's hand paused on his abdominal muscles.
"Benedict?"
A soft sigh — then Isaac's hands were gone. Footsteps retreated, followed by a quiet scrape across the floor. Shortly afterward, Isaac stepped in front of him.
His face was completely expressionless.
"If you're in pain, say something," he admonished calmly. "Here—sit down. I want to take another look at your face."
Benedict was in pain, but not the kind Isaac meant. He would have preferred to slip into the bathroom for a moment to take care of it. There was no way he could just pounce on Isaac.
"Just let me—" he began, but Isaac cut him off.
"Don't worry, I only need two or three minutes."
Benedict resigned himself to his fate. At least this way he could look at Isaac's face a little longer without risking his displeasure. He sat down. When he tried to cross his legs to hide the telltale state in his jeans, Isaac immediately stopped him.
"Wait—just leave them apart, otherwise I can't get close enough to you," he said calmly. Then he tilted his head slightly. "Otherwise I'd have to sit on your lap."
A breathless sound escaped Benedict's lips.
Nothing I'd rather have. Damn, sit on my lap, touch me and let me touch you.
Benedict swallowed the words. He remained sitting with his legs apart; it was more comfortable that way anyway, and he felt less confined. Isaac was focused on his face. Had he not noticed what he was doing to Benedict?
All at once, Isaac's face was as close to his again as it had been that night when he had sat on Benedict's lap. The images of that night resurfaced in his mind, and they were absolutely not helpful. He clenched his hand and pressed it against his thigh.
Isaac's hands brushed over his face; he touched the freshly shaven skin of his chin and traced the contour of his eyebrows.
"The blue of your eyes is really beautiful."
Benedict's heart skipped when Isaac repeated the words he had said to him that night.
"It's so clear and completely without cloudiness—it's like looking at the clear blue sky in an ice desert. I've imagined them over and over, but none of my color mixes come close to the blue of your eyes," he murmured to himself. "How am I supposed to capture that blue exactly?"
And that from someone whose eyes were the color of rubies. Whose eyes were so striking that Benedict could hardly look away. It was a shame that Isaac wore a medical mask and was ill.
But he enjoyed the view. What he could see of Isaac's face was, as usual, without a single flaw. If he had to name one, it was the exhaustion etched into his features. How much he would love to see his lips—just for a brief moment.
Calm down, Ben. In your current state, you'd just kiss him — and that's exactly what you can't allow.
But what exactly was he not supposed to allow? Was he really afraid right now that Isaac might end up being just a one-night stand? Or that the albino would push him away? Isaac seemed genuinely interested only in his body at the moment. Nothing more.
He could feel that this was absolutely not the moment to make the first move.
"How can a natural color be so perfect?" Isaac murmured absently. He straightened and looked down at Benedict. "This angle has something to it as well. The way your abdominal muscles look while you're sitting is really interesting from this perspective."
That cool, analytical gaze with which Isaac examined him…
Benedict was definitely not a masochist.
But when it came to Isaac, he was beginning to seriously reconsider that assessment.
A smile crept onto Isaac's face. Benedict could only see the amused glint in Isaac's eyes.
"Oh? Perhaps you should consider offering yourself as a nude model. I think some artists would fight over the chance to see you completely in the flesh."
Benedict blushed instantly. Hastily, he looked away.
"No, that would be too much. I'm still a police officer — I can't just let random people paint me naked…"
Isaac reached for his chin and gently lifted it. Once again, their faces were close, and yet the breathing mask stood between them like an invisible wall. One of Isaac's hands rested casually on Benedict's thigh, as if he were completely unaware of the effect of this closeness.
"Then let me paint you. It would be a waste not to preserve your body for eternity," Isaac said seriously. "It's rare for me to find a person aesthetically pleasing. And unlike most people, touching you doesn't disgust me."
"Isaac, I…" Benedict's voice sounded rough. "I—I don't know. Completely naked is…"
"Too bad," Isaac interrupted calmly and straightened up again. "Still — thank you for today. Surprisingly, you really did help me."
He walked back to his chair, bent down, and grabbed his sketchbook. The brief moment in which he had stuck out his backside only made Benedict's imagination flare up even more.
How can someone look so perfect?
It dawned on him painfully that he probably wouldn't be able to maintain this purely platonic façade for much longer.
Isaac sat down and immediately began sketching again. Highly focused, his pencil flew over the paper as several rough drafts took shape at remarkable speed.
Benedict stood up, grabbed his shirt, and walked over to him. He cast a glance at the sketchpad and immediately turned bright red again. He couldn't believe what had just happened.
Isaac was wearing a loosely fitting sweater with long sleeves and a wide neckline. He sat slightly hunched on the chair, causing the collar to dip forward and granting Benedict a view of Isaac's chest. He wasn't looking at what Isaac was drawing, but at his collarbones, the white skin darkened by the shadow of the sweater—down to a clearly visible nipple.
He couldn't take it anymore.
"No problem," Benedict murmured hoarsely.
Then he abruptly turned and disappeared into the bathroom as quickly as possible. The door fell shut behind him. For a moment, he simply stood there and listened — just to make sure Isaac was still busy drawing.
As quickly as he could, he opened his pants and let them slide to the floor. His underwear followed a second later. He had already leaked a few drops of precum—no wonder in a situation that had been a kind of torture unlike anything he had ever experienced. The cool air felt good; he shuddered as it hit his completely overheated groin.
Without thinking further, he took his penis into his hand. His grip closed firmly around it. He closed his eyes as he imagined Isaac. He would have completely lost control if Isaac hadn't been sick. Would he examine his body even more closely once they had crossed a certain line? How would he examine his most intimate area? What would he look like kneeling between Benedict's legs? What would his expression be?
But the image shifted as he imagined himself sitting between Isaac's legs, working his way up from his feet to his penis.
How he would leave kisses on that perfect white skin.
How he would mark him as his. How long would the marks remain visible on his pale skin?
How would Isaac look at him? Would he look down at him full of desire? Would he be submissive? Or would he look at him with that cool gaze so characteristic of him?
Benedict groaned at the thought. He was so close to coming.
Would he call him "Ben" again like he had that night?
His grip tightened; he pumped his hand faster, rougher. His breathing came in sharp bursts as his lower abdomen pulsed until he finally pressed his lips together and imagined himself pushing into Isaac, the sweet sounds he would draw from him, and how Isaac would completely lose himself in the sex with him.
He wanted to know what he felt like.
Wanted to know whether Isaac would still be so controlled then.
The thought pushed him over the edge.
With a muffled sound, Benedict came uninhibitedly. His body tensed as he spilled into his hand, trying not to make a mess. He remained there for another moment, breathing heavily, then leaned his forehead against the cool bathroom wall.
It took a long time for his pulse to calm down.
It wasn't the first time he had imagined Isaac while masturbating.
And certainly not the last.
Finally, Benedict pushed himself away from the wall, washed his hands thoroughly, and checked in embarrassment whether he had left any traces. After that, he cleaned himself carefully, deliberately taking a little longer until the last of the heat had left his body.
He couldn't believe he had done it in someone else's bathroom. At home was one thing, but here in Isaac's apartment it felt forbidden.
At least it had helped him think clearly again.
When he looked into the mirror, his mouth twisted slightly.
He really did seem to have fallen hard for Isaac.