#bykatz

The Painting ₊⊹

Ziggy Katz had always had a strange effect on Will — familiar, because of Mike, but also distant, because of all the times Ziggy had just passed through their lives as “Mike’s far cousin.”

Yet here he was, leaning against the fence with that easy, indifferent posture, sun catching the few silver streaks in his hair.

Will shuffled awkwardly, holding a small package wrapped in brown paper.

He wasn’t sure why his hands felt so clammy. “Uh… hey, Ziggy,” he said, voice barely above the hum of cicadas.

Ziggy tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Hey, Will. What’s that?”

Will cleared his throat. “I… uh… made something. For you.”

He extended the package, and Ziggy raised an eyebrow, taking it.

The paper rustled as he carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a small canvas, a self-portrait Will had spent weeks working on.

His own features, pale with that ever-present hint of sadness in the eyes, but softened by the colors around him — warm oranges, cool blues, the kind of shades Will felt safe in.

For a long moment, Ziggy just looked at it. His eyes softened in a way Will hadn’t expected. “You painted this… of yourself?” he asked, voice low.

Will nodded, looking anywhere but Ziggy’s face. “I… I thought maybe you’d like it, s-since you expressed uhm.. Your feelings for me a couple weeks ago.. I… I wanted you to have something from me. Not, you know… not just Mike.”

Ziggy chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Will, this is… really something.” He glanced at the painting again, then back at Will. “You’re… you’re really brave, you know that?”

Will blinked, cheeks turning red like tomatoes. “I… I guess I just wanted you to see me. Like… really see me.”

Ziggy smiled, that rare, easy kind of smile that made Will feel like maybe the world wasn’t so scary after all.

He reached out and touched the edge of the canvas gently. “I see you, Will. I always did.”

Later that night

Ziggy was restless in the guest room. Yes Mike's parents were asleep, so was mike, nancy, holly..

It was stupid, the painting stared back at him from the nightstand where he propped it up, just.. there. Ziggy stared, admiring the colors and warm tones Will had used.

It was quiet, which meant it was high risk if Ziggy wanted to deal with the warmth pooling in his pajama pants..

"Fuck.." he'd mutter, sitting up and grabbing the painting.

He knew it. And he still risked it. Slowly slipping his pants down, trying not to be noisy as the rustles of fabric filled the room..

"Shit-" he said as his dick immediately bounced upwards, hitting his stomach and smearing pre-cum on his shirt.

"Why am i getting so worked up about this?" He whispered to himself, looking down at the mess of his erection.

The painting, god that stupid painting. Will's innocent eyes stared at ziggy as his hand moved up and down on his member.

Fap, fap, fap..

He was trying his best to be quiet, biting down on his shirt.

He felt close, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt the ounces of pleasure rushing in, his balls tightening as he groaned into his shirt.

He looked down at the mess he made, Cum on his stomach and his hand.

"Jesus, i didn't come this much when i read Lila's poem.." He muttered as he grabbed tissues cleaning up his mess..

When he was done he put the painting back on the nightstand the same way it was before. Propped up staring at him.

Ziggy crossed his arms, turning away from the painting.

"This is all your fault byers."