| | :: Fanfic ::
The Artist and His Muse
Author: Patricia Anne McCarty
Word Count: 1018
The Artist and His Muse
He looked to his left through the corner of his staring eye and spotted the most interesting looking little man he’d ever seen.
John Paul had a hobby of collecting images of interesting people because that is what made them beautiful to him. Though he was not gay, he seemed to be most attracted to the male figure, and this fellow at the end of the bar downing whiskey like it was water was as MALE as any man could get.
John Paul watch him drink shot after shot, yet he did not seem the least bit drunk. His fascination increased up several levels. He could tell just by looking at the guy he was well built, a real warrior not some iron pumping want-to-be.
There was something about his face too. It was rigid and his look was one of an intensely focused person. His hair was jet black and wild. John Paul could not see his eyes from where he sat, but it was on his agenda for that night.
Suddenly it hit him, the urge! It was strong and possessive. He KNEW of only one way to curb it. He reached in his back pack that sat neatly next to his chair on the floor, and removed one of his most prized possessions. His white sketch pad and pencil now flopped on the table with an eager hand.
John Paul began sketching the dark haired man. Page after page he drew until he had his fill of that angle. He quietly got up and moved in for a closer view, trying to catch a glimps of his muse’s eyes when the gruff man turned around and shot a look his way that sent a chill of cold sensations straight down his spine.
“What are you lookin’ at boy?” He barked in a deep gravel pit voice as he polished off the latest shot slamming the glass hard onto the bar.
“Please sir, I mean no harm, I just find you fascinating.” John Paul stated with a smile as he tucked a slip of black long hair behind his left ear.
The man’s eyes widened. He looked at the boy. He was thinly built, tall and had on a long black velvet trench coat with black leather pants and pointed boots. His shirt was all white with ruffles in the front and tiny gold buttons. He was so beautiful he could have passed for a girl with ease.
“I aint your type” the man barked then he turned back around hoping the younger man would get the hint and leave. But John Paul was not about to give up. Not now, after he saw those wild crisp blue eyes! They made his muse look like a wolf and that only added to his fascination. He got up walk over to the bar, and sat right next to the most dangerous man in the place. A bold move.
“Boy, I told ya I aint…...” he started to say when John Paul shoved his sketch book in front of him and stated ” No, No you miss understand. I’m not looking for what you might think. I’m an artist, see! These are my sketches. I only wish to draw you. Honest. My names is John Paul” He said as he offered his hand to the now very confused man.
He took his hand and shook it in friendship. “I don’t get many people looking at me that way Johnny boy, forgive me if I aint exactly believen’ it.” he said with a grin.
“I find beauty in attitude, the way a man holds himself, the way he talks, his expressions. It isn’t about being pretty, it’s about a man, and you are a real man.” John Paul said in a very, almost scary direct way. “May I draw you? I can pay you for your time. I have a nice flat just a few blocks from here.”
“I aint got no use for money John. Maybe you have the wrong subject.” he said as he finialy looked at the sketch book. The drawings were so skillfully done and they had nothing but the truth in them. He looked up into John Paul’s eyes. There he saw a very beautiful and most importantly honest young man.
“Wow, you’re really d**n good. Don’t think I’ve ever seen myself like that before.” he said as his face soften and he cracked a smile.
John Paul returned his smile. At that moment he asked one last time to draw him. This time, the man at the bar said, yes.
Excitement filled John Paul’s whole body. “My cup runneith over, you made my whole month.” he laughed “Sorry, that was a bit corny hah?” He said shyly.
“Just a bit,” the man replied with a smile of flattery.
As they got up and walked John Paul asked, “So, my muse, what is your name anyway?”
“Logan” he replied.
When they got to the door of John Paul’s flat Logan saw it was very clean and zen with 3 rooms, a living place, bedroom and a very small bathroom.
John Paul set up his art supplies and asked Logan to sit for him then he began to draw on a large canvas. “Would you mind taking off your shirt Logan? I would love to draw your chest.”
At this point many uncomfortable thoughts ran through Logan’s mind. He HATED being stared at in the first place let alone by a guy, and a pretty boy at that. Yes, many uncomfortable thoughts ran through his mind. But for some reason there were no “red flags” that went a flying, so he removed his shirt and sat very still and quiet.
John Paul looked at Logan’s massive chest full of muscle and hair and thought as Logan’s 2 silver dog tags gleamed, “I was right! I KNEW this guy was a real warrior.” And that is just how John Paul painted Logan, just like the warrior he is.
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