She was such a tease. A flighty little tease that he wanted to lock down and get a taste of, likely come back for seconds, too, maybe even thirds. Definitely thirds.

His knuckles rap against the door to her place, and he glances down to the light blue jeans and plain white t-shirt he’s got on, a slither of inked skin peeking out from where his jeans sit low on his hips. He chose to come comfortable, especially considering he wasn’t going to stay dressed long if ‘come leaky :)’ was any indication.

She’s so cute.

He groans without meaning to, flush working its way up his neck as he shifts in his spot, and a pink tongue swipes over equally as pink lips to wet them. Shit. His hands move to grip the top of the door jamb, the sound of locks coming undone reaching his ears, and a genuine smile makes its way onto his face as Venus peers up at him, a single dimple popping up in his right cheek

“Vee, baby, hey.” He drawls, slightly leaning forward, and looks down his nose at her, eyes slowly dragging up and down her form before finally settling on her face. “You look cute today, real cute. I thought I was supposed to be the one modeling? You’re trying to one-up me or something?”

Venus knows it was a bad idea to put herself in this situation.

She really does need a favor so she can finish up this drawing; that wasn’t a lie. But telling herself that Kanon was the best option because he has the right “vibe” for the pose she needed…that was certainly a stretch.

Kanon watches her until she disappears around a corner, and then he’s drumming his fingers against the couch as he looks around. Her studio is nice; clean, well put together, oh those the color of the walls really just tie it all in—fuuuuck, his cock aches. He groans again, hips shifting, and he blows out a quick breath and smooths back loose, black curls.

“What’s taking you so long? You get lost?” She calls back from wherever she is, but he doesn’t strain to hear it. “I’m getting lonely, Venus. Hurry up and come back so I can see that pretty—there she is!” Venus emerges, tripod in hand along with a look of faux annoyance on her face, and Kanon bites back a laugh, white teeth softly sinking into the fat of his bottom lip to do so. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Are you always this dramatic?”

“Only when I really, really like someone.” He grins and sends a wink her way, thumb moving to toy with the ring around his middle finger as he takes in the little bit of red in her cheeks. Heh.

“It’s for a show coming up at the gallery. Gotta fit the theme. Which is…uh, well,” she glances at him, the smug grin plastered on his lips making her twitch all over again, “Not important. You'll get the picture. You're a smart boy.”

A lot, actually, but the main thing is her twitchy, nervous behavior despite her having been the one to egg this all on. He chuckles again, hands coming to rest in his lap as he heaves a sigh. He likes his women nervous and bashful every now and again, like ‘em the opposite too, but Venus is a friend before a cunt that he’s dying to fuck and taste.

He doesn’t want her too nervous, especially considering this is going in a— “Gallery? Oh, you’re big time, Vee.” He had seen her art before and thought it was amazing, and he’s glad that everyone else thought so, too. “Atta girl. You deserve it. Proud of you.” His smile is genuine, and he blinks at the warmth that radiates from his words. He switches to a different gear, one more familiar, one that he’s used to. “Not for the way you’re setting this camera up, though. Here, let me help.”

He’s standing before she can protest, and he circles around so he’s at her back, keeping his hips away from her ass, which is probably the hardest thing he’s had to do in his life, no lie -even harder than that Trigonometry class his counselor had dumped him in when he questioned the authenticity of his hair- but he does it, he wants it to be a cute little surprise, how hard he’s gotten for her, well as much of a surprise as it can be considering you can see the outline of him through his pants.

Ever so independent, she’s always taken care of herself, and always felt a little defensive about receiving praise, as it’s often been used as a guise for pity, in her experience. She’s gotten better at accepting both as she’s gotten older, and she’d be lying if she said the way ‘Atta girl’ rolls off his tongue couldn’t change her mind completely. Still, her tongue pokes against her cheek at his offer, knowing herself to be capable of such a simple task.

It irritates her enough to snap her back to reality, the shake in her hands gone as she tuts his hands away to finish setting up herself. She bends forward to grab her camera from the coffee table and hears a soft groan from behind her. As if she’s unaware that the hem of her shirt is riding up and she’s giving him a tiny glimpse of the strings of her thong, she turns to look up at him through her lashes, faux concern lacing her voice, “You good, sweetheart? You can go sit down, I got it. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

He just stands there, wearing a tight-lipped smile and not-so-subtly ogling her as she screws the camera on tight and moves to turn it on. The thing about Kanon that gets her so hot is the way he makes her feel like a piece of meat sometimes. The men she meets in the fine art industry are so…reserved. Couth. Clad in prissy long sleeved button downs, buttoned fully up to their necks, and mouthing off to her about things she already knows. She much prefers the eye twitch that Kanon pulls from her, one that spreads to her lips, and her fingers, and below the belt, too.

Bending again to grab the remote control for her camera, she smirks at the breath he lets out. She spins, pocketing the control and prancing over to him. “We’ll talk rewards when I’m done with you. C’mon.” Pulling him by his belt loop again, she pushes him back onto the plush couch, watching him adjust his hips and spread his long legs. She can’t find it in herself to be nervous anymore, not when she knows she has some kind of effect on him too, if the tent in his jeans was anything to attest to. 

Requirement or not, it hadn’t taken him much to get there - even if she hadn’t done it for her ‘amusement’, he would have been hard as brick anyways once he got in close proximity with her.

“But yeah, this is alright. Great, even.” He looks up at her, lips rolling into his mouth to keep an entirely too giddy smile at bay. He can’t remember the last time someone asked him that -had they ever?- and a shot of something sentimental has him pushing his own ulterior motives to the back to properly do what she asked him to actually do.

His cock could wait to play. His hands, too. Mouth, too.

She settles fully in his lap, taking no care to set herself down gently, and his teeth sink into his tongue to hold back a grunt, eyes snapping to hers to take in the faux look of innocence.

“Oops. You okay?”

“Mhm.” He hums, arm curling around her waist on instinct, hand coming to grip at her thigh, and he blinks down at his hand as he watches his thumb stretch up to—no! Hadn’t he just said he was going to be productive first? Be still, be steady, be—his head dips down, eyes locked on the way her shirt dips in the front to grant him a view of her—no! “Venus.”

His voice comes out throaty -the voices, oh the voices- and his other hand cokes around to clasp the other one, fingers interlocking over her stomach, and he tugs her just a bit further up his lap, ass nestled right above his crotch. Shit, why had he gone and done that?

She thinks it’s cute— the way he can’t resist touching, and the strain in his voice— though it has her praying he didn’t feel her clench. “Relax!” she giggles, smoothing a hand down his chest. “Let me figure out how I want you, and then I only need a photo or two to make it work. Easy peasy.” She sends him a wink, not missing the subtle bob of his adam’s apple.

Positioning his hands on nearly every part of her body, she starts taking photos, and interjecting when he doesn’t listen, “Mmkay, and put your hands here— AHT. Up. There you go. Kay…this should be good.” Click. Click. She squints to check the viewfinder every so often, getting increasingly frustrated when she can’t settle on a pose she likes. After five long minutes, she’s slumping down into his lap, pouting up at him, “This is harder than I expected.”

He looks confused, and she heaves out a sigh, rambling at him again, and it’s hard for him not to notice just how much she moves around when she’s speaking. “I don’t know why I was nervous to tell you the theme. You could probably help me out if you knew. Okay…you know that painting The Kiss? By Klimt?” He nods, but she’s not so sure she believes him. She continues anyway, “We’re displaying pieces based around that. Like, uh…pieces that capture affection, desire, whatever.” 

She takes another deep breath, waving her hands around as she makes her next point, “And, like, what better person to embody desire than you? Ya know?” She grabs his face as she says it, meeting his eyes with a genuine passion— this time oblivious to the way she affects him. “I hope that doesn’t offend you…but I’ve also kinda been dying to draw your pretty hair, if that’s anything.” She pulls her hands away to thread her fingers through his curls, pulling one spiral taut just to watch it spring back into shape.

He had an idea that would win her fucking accolades for years to come on a few X-rated sites, and possibly his name penned in for child support payments, too.

Her fingers sift through dark curls, nails scratching against his scalp, and he unconsciously leans into it. “You said Kiss by Clit? Never heard of it.” He jokes. “I think you’re just making shit up now.” His hands situate her how he needs her, back to his chest as she’s turned to face the camera, her legs hooked over his to keep them spread.“Not that I mind.” He flashes the camera a boyish smile just as it goes off, dents in his cheeks appearing.

His hands settle on her hips, and he shimmies a bit further down on the couch, feet firmly planted on the floor. “What I do mind though, is the focus being on me - I’m nothin’ special. Let’s focus on you.” His hips rock upwards, eyes zeroing in on the way her throat bobs. “I think you’re the perfect picture of desire right now, Vee.” One hand leaves her hip to travel up her front, palm flat as it smooths up her stomach, over her tits, and traces the jut of her collarbones before finding its place at the base of her throat, silver rings looking perfectly in place against her skin.

“Don’t you think so?” He slips the remote out of her hand, nose trailing up the length of her throat, and pushes the button to capture a picture. His hand squeezes just a bit, a whine-like sound slipping out of her mouth, and he drags his tongue along the racing pulse in her neck, the silver, metallic ball of his tongue piercing catching in the light.

He takes another picture.

It’s almost annoying how he knows exactly where to touch to get her squirming in his lap. As if he has a sense for it— some kind of compass that guides his wandering hands to every sensitive spot on her body. He switches between rough grabs and teasing grazes in all the right places, and her brows furrow as she starts to regret putting herself in this position with him.

Despite all her efforts to tell herself she’s not attracted to him, that inviting him here was strictly business, she’s got no one to blame but herself for becoming a twitching mess on top of him. With the blinds open in the middle of the day, and on the clock, no less. The city streets are busy at this hour, and she even recognizes a few passersby on their regular lunch break commute. The studio windows are tinted, but she can’t remember if she locked the door behind them, and can’t seem to care with the twitch of his cock beneath her.

She huffs out an incredulous laugh at his suggestion, “A-authenticity? Fuck are you on about— oh!” His piercing rubs up against a sweet spot behind her ear, and she throws her head back against his shoulder. “You’re irritating,” she sighs, the grind of her hips saying otherwise. The warmth of his breath against her ear when he chuckles makes her shiver, yet she reaches for the hem of her top anyway. Hesitating, she bites her lip. This is a bad idea. Horrible, even. As she moves to push herself off his lap, a ringed finger drags up her throat, the pad of his index prodding at her bottom lip and tugging her lip ring from her teeth. Well, fuck. The last of her resolve is thrown out the window. 

Crossing her arms over her waist, she lifts the hem of her top and pulls it off, flinging it to the other side of the couch and craning her neck back to nip at his jaw.

"You're so fucking sexy, Vee. Can't even remember how many times I've thought about having you just like this." He palms at her tits, groping and squeezing at the mounds of flesh, and he gently nudges her back with a shift of his head. Pretty green eyes meet his, and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he's leaning forward, mouths mashing together in a mess of a kiss.

It's rough, desperate, needy, an attempt for him to taste her and drink her down more than anything else - a perfect show of how she's been making him feel inside ever since she switched her pert little ass into his life.

One hand leaves her chest (a tough decision that he regrets immediately) to move around to slip into the back of her jeans, fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass and dragging her further up his body, pulling her closer, as close as he can get her.

His tongue explores the inside of her mouth when she grants him entrance; along the backs of her teeth, caressing against her own, and he commits the shapes to memory. He only pulls away when the need to breathe becomes too strong, and he moves his mouth to the shell of her ear, teeth tugging on the helix before he's speaking between ragged breaths.

"I want your pussy in my mouth, Vee. I want you to ride my face." He slides further down the cushions as he says it, hands keeping her steady on top of him, and his hand leaves her ass to palm at his aching cock through his pants.

She places a hand over his that’s squeezing at the meat of her thigh, preventing her from climbing off him. With one hand she reaches up to cradle his jaw, pressing another kiss to his lips and using her other hand to push him to lay against the couch. 

Swinging a leg over him to stand, she trails her gaze along his body, clocking the flush on his neck and the strain of his cock in his jeans. She lets out a huff of air through her nose, amused at his eagerness, although she has no room to talk with the wet patch growing between her legs. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she unbuttons her jeans even as his hands still roam her body, one playing with her bellybutton ring and the other squeezing a thigh. Tutting him away, she pulls her jeans down, her thong coming along with them. A string of slick stretches down with them until they fall around her ankles, and she doesn’t miss the way his pupils dilate at the sight.  

She leans forward, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, tits dangling in his face as she draws the blinds. It’s then that she notices he’s too tall for her couch— his legs are propped up and hang over the armrest. Cute.

“You sure you’re comfortable? You don’t even fit— oh!” Before she can pull back, he’s pulling her by her hips, manhandling her leg to swing over him and yanking her close enough that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her folds. Yelps and giggles escape her as he maneuvers her around, growing louder at the grabs and slaps at her ass, his breathy laughs fanning against where she’s grown needy for him. She wiggles her hips and arches her back to give him a show, readjusting herself on her forearms so she can unbutton his jeans.