Author: Melissa. (http://www.livejournal.com~tiniowien)
Summary: An artist's hands are never still...
Feedback: Is so very delicious. ^_^
Viggo would take a coloured pen and draw a line on Orlando. It didn't matter where they were; sitting in the wooden deck chairs, going over their lines with the raucous of the lunch tables around them; lounging on the couch at home watching a Rugby game or the late night news; standing at the front desk to pay for a restaurant bill; leaning on the back porch overlooking the beach's tossing waves that were lost in shadows and tipped with moonlight; he'd simply pick up a pen and press it against an exposed part of Orli's skin, flicking it along to create a slim line. Orli would turn and look at it, then raise his eyes to Viggo, getting only a smile in return, never any explanation.
Sometimes the contrast would be sharper than others; a black marker scooting up an olive arm would be more noticeable than a red line across a palm.
Which is what finally drove Orlando to buy him a set of watercolour pencils. Cutting out the middleman and a hell of a lot easier to wash off, he had explained with the grin of a man who had resigned to the fact that resistance to this habit was futile. Just dip the tips into water and draw away to your heart's content, Vig.
Then he had removed his shirt and offered his body as a canvas.