(no subject)
Aug. 7th, 2012 11:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fickle_obsessedKink Writing on the body
Fandom Nearly Famous
Pairing Lila/Owen
Rating G
Word Count 1495
“It’s like…performance art,” Lila says, laying on her back, looking up at the stars rather than at Owen. She’d rather not see the look on his face, she can already imagine it.
“Performance art,” he repeats, exhaling smoke from the cigarette in his hand. “Wouldn’t you be better off asking a dancer, or an actor. I’m a musician, not exactly cut out for performing, I’d rather just stand at the back. Ask Ash, or Kate they’d be better.”
She pouts and rolls over onto her side to look at him. “But I don’t want to ask Ash or Kate. I want you to do it with me. You’ll get class credit too, you know. So…”
“Just…talk me through it. Only you’re a writer, yeah? I don’t quite get how this is going to be performance art rather than just say writing a song together.”
“Okay well…the whole point is to think outside the box, not to go for the obvious. We’re supposed to do something more visual, because writing isn’t that visual a medium, performance wise. It’s very aural, you know.”
“Oral?” He smirks.
“Aural, Owen! Pertaining to the ears.”
“Oh right, I thought things were about to get interesting, carry on.”
“So yeah, I want to do something different. Something dynamic and shocking.”
“Shocking? Are you still trying the whole rebellious thing? I mean it’s cute and everything but…not really you, you know?”
“You don’t know what’s me! I don’t even know who I am. Anyway that’s not the point. It’s not about that. Will you stop interrupting so I can tell you what I want to do?”
“Sure, sorry. Go on.”
“I want to write a passage from one of my stories on your body.”
Owen doesn’t speak for a moment, because he isn’t sure quite what to say. Lila is sweet and slightly odd, but strangely innocent and the suggestion coming from her is slightly jarring, though not in a bad way. He takes another slow drag of his cigarette, biding his time, working out the best why to respond.
“You want me to strip naked, on stage?”
“No. You wouldn’t be striping and you wouldn’t be naked. You’d be topless at most. And you’d already be topless once you got on stage. You wouldn’t have to stay on long, a minute at most.”
He wants to suggest she use Ash again, the very idea of standing on stage, exposed to the bunch of tossers that are the students of the Salinger school makes his skin crawl. Ash would be perfect. He’s confident and graceful, but that would also mean that Lila would be writing on his body and that idea doesn’t appeal quite so much.
“What exactly would happen? What‘s involved. What‘s your exact plan.”
“Well…firstly I have to pick the passage, or I might just pick a sentence and write that over and over again.”
“What are you going to write with?”
“Oh! Oh! I found this paint that glows under UV lights. It’s invisible under normal lights, but then shows up ultraviolet when you shine the lights on them. I thought I’d ask Joe to do that part. I’m sure he could make it look really good, really creative.”
She sounds excited. Enthusiastic and eager and he really doesn’t have the heart to kill that in her. She’ll talk him round, he knows she will, because Lila Reed could get him to do anything she wants, it’s easier to agree now rather than waste time.
“So for a while I’ll just be standing there topless and no one’ll even know what’s going on?”
“Only for a second or two.” She pouts and gives him her puppy dog eyes, the ones that melt even his cynical heart.
“Fine. Just…get me drunk first, okay?”
“Absolutely. But not so drunk that you’ll sway. Just drunk enough, then I’ll ply you with booze afterwards, and anything else you might want.”
“Anything, hey?”
“Stay still!” Lila says frowning up at Owen even as he attempts to do just that.
“It tickles. Maybe you shouldn’t use a brush?”
“And what else should I use? My fingers?”
“It’s not the worse idea.”
She considers this for a moment, end of the paint brush between red stained lips.
“I’m not sure it’ll work. The lines won’t be as crisp.”
“Well this is just practice, right? So do it that way and we’ll see how it looks. How’s that?”
“Okay, but you have to stop wriggling!”
“I’ll do my best.”
Owen closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. He supposes he should have mentioned how ticklish he was when he agreed, but he’s fairly sure Lila would take something like that as an excuse.
“This stuff is skin safe, isn’t it?”
“No, Owen, I want to bring you out in a horrible rash. Will you relax?”
She rubs away the first few letters with her thumb to create a blank canvas to work with, trying to ignore the feel of his body beneath her fingers, taut and toned and warm. She dips her index finger into the little tube and begins to draw the letters onto him, slowly, carefully, from his right shoulder down and across his chest. If this was a story. She adds three finger prints as ellipses and pulls back trying to read her words in the faint shiny wetness of the paint.
“So? Can I see?”
“When I’m finished. It looks…messy.”
“You never told me what you were going to write. Maybe messy’ll work?”
“Maybe.”
Again she dips her finger and smoothes it onto his body. “It’s like when I was at school. When mum let me go. Finger painting. I always really liked that.”
Carefully Owen sits up and smiles at her. “Anytime you want to do some finger painting, I promise not to tell anyone if you don’t.”
There would be a happy ending.
“And you can draw on me anytime you like, if you were wondering. I’d be happier if it stopped here but…”
She pauses, with her fingertips on his torso, just above his stomach, her normal excited, wondrous grin changing into something less sure, less childlike. This is supposed to be practice for the end of term show. Coursework, like making notes for an essay, like jotting down ideas for her novel.
“Owen.” Her voice is quiet, unsure and confused and wonderfully sexy.
“You should probably finish so we can check it out. See if it’s working. See if we need to go back to the drawing board. Go on.”
“It’s just one more line,” she says, as if she’s trying to reassure him that it’s almost over.
“You don’t want to try out some other stuff? I was thinking perhaps you could write different things on different parts of my body. Like…a key word repeated all the way down my arms maybe?”
“You suddenly seem really into his idea.”
“Yeah well I was never against you writing your words on my body. It was having to be on stage that bothers me and that’s not going to happen, is it? Might as well take advantage of the situation. See how things look.”
“You’re talking like I never touch you.”
“It’s different. Your words. Your words, Lila, on my body. It‘s meaningful. You wanted it to be me. It‘s like when we write songs, only more physical, more intimate and I am male, I like the physical.”
“I think I should be using different paint. Something that shows up, so we can see what I’m doing. What works. I could use different colours for different words on your arms. Just keep writing until there’s no skin left clear.”
“I’m sure there’s all kinds of body paint in the storeroom. Want me to break in?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping out of trouble?”
“I’m supposed to stop punching people. A little breaking and entering’s nothing.”
“I’ll talk to someone tomorrow, see if I can get let in, borrow some legally.”
“But we’re doing this now.” It’s his turn to pout now, though he knows it isn’t nearly as affective as hers.
“Will you let me finish?”
“One line?”
“Then we can see if this UV torch Joe lent me actually works.”
She works more slowly this time, more purposefully, but with an entirely different purpose than before. She’s less focused on the words somehow, more focused on the strokes of her fingers, on his stomach, flat and ridged and perfectly still as if he’s holding his breath.
But reality will end in tears.
“Done.”
“Couldn’t you have chosen more? A paragraph? A chapter?”
“I wanted people to be able to read it. I didn’t want it to be too cluttered.”
“Next time though, when it’s just us?”
She beams then, pressing the last of the paint on her fingers against his flesh leaving random blobs in the gaps between lines.
“Next time I’ll write our song right across your body. And then you can write one of your songs across mine.”
Fandom Nearly Famous
Pairing Lila/Owen
Rating G
Word Count 1495
“It’s like…performance art,” Lila says, laying on her back, looking up at the stars rather than at Owen. She’d rather not see the look on his face, she can already imagine it.
“Performance art,” he repeats, exhaling smoke from the cigarette in his hand. “Wouldn’t you be better off asking a dancer, or an actor. I’m a musician, not exactly cut out for performing, I’d rather just stand at the back. Ask Ash, or Kate they’d be better.”
She pouts and rolls over onto her side to look at him. “But I don’t want to ask Ash or Kate. I want you to do it with me. You’ll get class credit too, you know. So…”
“Just…talk me through it. Only you’re a writer, yeah? I don’t quite get how this is going to be performance art rather than just say writing a song together.”
“Okay well…the whole point is to think outside the box, not to go for the obvious. We’re supposed to do something more visual, because writing isn’t that visual a medium, performance wise. It’s very aural, you know.”
“Oral?” He smirks.
“Aural, Owen! Pertaining to the ears.”
“Oh right, I thought things were about to get interesting, carry on.”
“So yeah, I want to do something different. Something dynamic and shocking.”
“Shocking? Are you still trying the whole rebellious thing? I mean it’s cute and everything but…not really you, you know?”
“You don’t know what’s me! I don’t even know who I am. Anyway that’s not the point. It’s not about that. Will you stop interrupting so I can tell you what I want to do?”
“Sure, sorry. Go on.”
“I want to write a passage from one of my stories on your body.”
Owen doesn’t speak for a moment, because he isn’t sure quite what to say. Lila is sweet and slightly odd, but strangely innocent and the suggestion coming from her is slightly jarring, though not in a bad way. He takes another slow drag of his cigarette, biding his time, working out the best why to respond.
“You want me to strip naked, on stage?”
“No. You wouldn’t be striping and you wouldn’t be naked. You’d be topless at most. And you’d already be topless once you got on stage. You wouldn’t have to stay on long, a minute at most.”
He wants to suggest she use Ash again, the very idea of standing on stage, exposed to the bunch of tossers that are the students of the Salinger school makes his skin crawl. Ash would be perfect. He’s confident and graceful, but that would also mean that Lila would be writing on his body and that idea doesn’t appeal quite so much.
“What exactly would happen? What‘s involved. What‘s your exact plan.”
“Well…firstly I have to pick the passage, or I might just pick a sentence and write that over and over again.”
“What are you going to write with?”
“Oh! Oh! I found this paint that glows under UV lights. It’s invisible under normal lights, but then shows up ultraviolet when you shine the lights on them. I thought I’d ask Joe to do that part. I’m sure he could make it look really good, really creative.”
She sounds excited. Enthusiastic and eager and he really doesn’t have the heart to kill that in her. She’ll talk him round, he knows she will, because Lila Reed could get him to do anything she wants, it’s easier to agree now rather than waste time.
“So for a while I’ll just be standing there topless and no one’ll even know what’s going on?”
“Only for a second or two.” She pouts and gives him her puppy dog eyes, the ones that melt even his cynical heart.
“Fine. Just…get me drunk first, okay?”
“Absolutely. But not so drunk that you’ll sway. Just drunk enough, then I’ll ply you with booze afterwards, and anything else you might want.”
“Anything, hey?”
“Stay still!” Lila says frowning up at Owen even as he attempts to do just that.
“It tickles. Maybe you shouldn’t use a brush?”
“And what else should I use? My fingers?”
“It’s not the worse idea.”
She considers this for a moment, end of the paint brush between red stained lips.
“I’m not sure it’ll work. The lines won’t be as crisp.”
“Well this is just practice, right? So do it that way and we’ll see how it looks. How’s that?”
“Okay, but you have to stop wriggling!”
“I’ll do my best.”
Owen closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. He supposes he should have mentioned how ticklish he was when he agreed, but he’s fairly sure Lila would take something like that as an excuse.
“This stuff is skin safe, isn’t it?”
“No, Owen, I want to bring you out in a horrible rash. Will you relax?”
She rubs away the first few letters with her thumb to create a blank canvas to work with, trying to ignore the feel of his body beneath her fingers, taut and toned and warm. She dips her index finger into the little tube and begins to draw the letters onto him, slowly, carefully, from his right shoulder down and across his chest. If this was a story. She adds three finger prints as ellipses and pulls back trying to read her words in the faint shiny wetness of the paint.
“So? Can I see?”
“When I’m finished. It looks…messy.”
“You never told me what you were going to write. Maybe messy’ll work?”
“Maybe.”
Again she dips her finger and smoothes it onto his body. “It’s like when I was at school. When mum let me go. Finger painting. I always really liked that.”
Carefully Owen sits up and smiles at her. “Anytime you want to do some finger painting, I promise not to tell anyone if you don’t.”
There would be a happy ending.
“And you can draw on me anytime you like, if you were wondering. I’d be happier if it stopped here but…”
She pauses, with her fingertips on his torso, just above his stomach, her normal excited, wondrous grin changing into something less sure, less childlike. This is supposed to be practice for the end of term show. Coursework, like making notes for an essay, like jotting down ideas for her novel.
“Owen.” Her voice is quiet, unsure and confused and wonderfully sexy.
“You should probably finish so we can check it out. See if it’s working. See if we need to go back to the drawing board. Go on.”
“It’s just one more line,” she says, as if she’s trying to reassure him that it’s almost over.
“You don’t want to try out some other stuff? I was thinking perhaps you could write different things on different parts of my body. Like…a key word repeated all the way down my arms maybe?”
“You suddenly seem really into his idea.”
“Yeah well I was never against you writing your words on my body. It was having to be on stage that bothers me and that’s not going to happen, is it? Might as well take advantage of the situation. See how things look.”
“You’re talking like I never touch you.”
“It’s different. Your words. Your words, Lila, on my body. It‘s meaningful. You wanted it to be me. It‘s like when we write songs, only more physical, more intimate and I am male, I like the physical.”
“I think I should be using different paint. Something that shows up, so we can see what I’m doing. What works. I could use different colours for different words on your arms. Just keep writing until there’s no skin left clear.”
“I’m sure there’s all kinds of body paint in the storeroom. Want me to break in?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping out of trouble?”
“I’m supposed to stop punching people. A little breaking and entering’s nothing.”
“I’ll talk to someone tomorrow, see if I can get let in, borrow some legally.”
“But we’re doing this now.” It’s his turn to pout now, though he knows it isn’t nearly as affective as hers.
“Will you let me finish?”
“One line?”
“Then we can see if this UV torch Joe lent me actually works.”
She works more slowly this time, more purposefully, but with an entirely different purpose than before. She’s less focused on the words somehow, more focused on the strokes of her fingers, on his stomach, flat and ridged and perfectly still as if he’s holding his breath.
But reality will end in tears.
“Done.”
“Couldn’t you have chosen more? A paragraph? A chapter?”
“I wanted people to be able to read it. I didn’t want it to be too cluttered.”
“Next time though, when it’s just us?”
She beams then, pressing the last of the paint on her fingers against his flesh leaving random blobs in the gaps between lines.
“Next time I’ll write our song right across your body. And then you can write one of your songs across mine.”
