Title: A Thousand Words on My Tongue
Genre: CWRPS, Jared/Misha AU
Words Count: ~3900
Warnings: Yes, there is sex in this NC-17 fic. It's shocking, I know.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No disrespect is intended toward the real people whose images I have appropriated for this story.
A/N: This was written for jaredmisha's Mishaleckipalooza as a gift for amindaya, who requested Misha is a college student taking a life drawing class. Jared is the nude model. Pretty, pretty please. I changed it just a little because the college aspect is a little too similar to a J2 ficlet I wrote for Blindfold awhile ago. (It is, frankly, still awfully similar in premise to that ficlet, but I did the best I could in making all of the other aspects different, and hell, there can never be too many fics about Jared the nude model, right?) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, amindaya!
Super huge thanks to ebcdic for an AWESOME beta, and also to my twitter feed, which made some very helpful suggestions when I got stuck, especially to epicycles and bientot.
Sebastian Roche's twitter was also inspirational.
Every Thursday morning, the Accounts Payable department has a meeting. It is not awesome. Misha’s boss is an out of control micromanaging control freak whose own boss is too wimpy to tell her to knock it off, and the meeting inevitably devolves into a litany of unbelievable nitpicking. The meeting always lasts an hour longer than it needs to and usually by the end, Misha is ready to jab himself in the eye with a spork just to make it. Stop.
Instead of practicing his auto-lobotomy techniques, Misha doodles. He draws whole landscapes, seascapes, and portraits of his boss explaining why they need to use blue pens instead of black pens (to which he adds devil horns).
“You’re good,” Sebastian says after the meeting. Sebastian is his work friend. Occasionally this leads into hanging out after work, encounters that inevitably leave Misha feeling like he needs to bleach his brain. Sebastian is just that kind of guy.
“Good at what?” Misha asks, gripping his prize – a deli sandwich on a paper plate, and a latte. They always have lunch catered on Thursdays. It’s a good thing, because the promise of free food is sometimes the only thing Misha has going for him during the meeting.
“At drawing,” Sebastian says. The way he says it, it sounds like drowring, because Sebastian is British. Unrelatedly, he’s also kind of skeevy and it’s possible he’s been hitting on Misha for the entire time they’ve worked together. Misha chooses to ignore it and continues to be work friends with him mostly because he’s got all the good office gossip, and he’s the only person in the office who seems to hate their boss as much as Misha does. This is because he is their boss’ direct underling and has to put up with her reminding him to draw a line through his sevens and that the staples need to be horizontal and not diagonal all day long.
“Are you hitting on me?” Misha asks, suspiciously.
Sebastian laughs, like that’s the silliest idea anyone’s ever had.
“I’m serious, you’re a good artist. You should come with me to my art class,” he says. Misha notices he doesn’t answer the question.
“You’re taking an art class?” Misha asks. “Let me guess: life drawing, right? With nude models?”
Sebastian puts up his hands in surrender. “It’s fun.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Come on, Misha, what are you doing on Tuesday nights? You can DVR Glee, you know.”
“Fuck you, I don’t watch Glee,” Misha grumbles, but he knows that somehow, he’s already lost this. Damn Sebastian and his wily British ways.
Which is how, five days later, Misha finds himself standing in front of in a community center classroom with a couple of pretentious kids in black, a bunch of aging hippies, Sebastian, and the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Who’s naked.
The teacher is a guy named Rob. He’s scrawny and hyper in an over-caffeinated sort of way. He’s cute and hipsterish and mentions his band within the first five minutes of class, so Misha guesses he’s just an artsy kind of guy.
He definitely knows what he’s doing. He goes on excitedly about musculature and sinew and the beauty of the human form and despite his own misgivings, Misha actually feels himself getting into the spirit of the class.
And when Rob calls out “okay, come on out, Jared!” Misha is pretty sure that letting Sebastian bully him into coming to this class was the best decision ever. This guy, who looks like he could be an actual, clothed model, walks in from behind a door wearing only a pair of ratty old soccer shorts, which he quickly sheds. If he’s embarrassed about being naked in front of Rob, a bunch of old people, Misha, and Sebastian – who’s looking at Jared like he’s a particularly juicy steak – he’s doing a really good job of covering it up. Uh, so to speak. Of course, if Misha had a body like that he’s pretty sure he’d want to show it off, too. Jared looks like working out and being hot is his full-time job.
Jared steps onto a little platform so that everyone can get a good view. It’s not really necessary since he’s by far the tallest person in the room, but Misha isn’t complaining. He strikes a slight pose, with his weight on his right foot, and his left leg stretched out and bent behind him. It emphasizes the muscles of his legs and ass, and there are a lot of muscles to emphasize.
“Wow,” says the aging hippie woman next to him, and Misha can’t stop himself from nodding in agreement.
Then Rob’s talking about musculature again, and Misha stops trying to shift his angle to get a better view of Jared’s dick and begins to sketch.
Misha likes to draw. He’s always liked to draw, and he’s pretty good at it. He took art in high school and enjoyed it, but it’s been a long time since he’s really made an effort and it’s surprisingly fun, even with Sebastian winking and nudging at him.
“I really like what you’ve done here,” Rob says. Misha didn’t even notice him appearing by his shoulder. “Your sense of proportion is excellent. But I want you to think about shading, okay? Why don’t you…” Misha listens to Rob rambling on and sneaks glances back at Jared, who’s doing an admirable job of staying still. And then Rob’s moving on to Sebastian, whose drawing looks only somewhat more advanced than a stick figure.
Misha’s sketch is nearly up to Jared’s face when Rob claps his hands and announces that class is over, see everyone again next Tuesday.
“That was fun, right?” Sebastian says, as they pack up their sketches.
“Actually...yeah,” Misha admits, resisting the temptation to be sarcastic.
“This is why you should always listen to me,” Sebastian says. “My ideas are always best.”
“If I always listened to you, I’d probably be blind or in prison or both,” Misha tells him. Dealing with Sebastian is exhausting. “I’m going home now, okay? And don’t follow me.”
Whether or not Misha jerks off while looking at his sketches of Jared is no one’s business but his own, okay?
The life drawing model the following Tuesday isn’t Jared. Instead they have a pretty woman in her mid-20s. Misha’s a little embarrassed by his own disappointed reaction to seeing her step out and shuck off her clothes. She’s really very pretty and has a nice enough body.
“This class is fantastic,” Sebastian stage-whispers at Misha, watching the girl pose with her arms over her head. Rob starts talking about the differences between male and female form.
“Yeah, it’s great,” Misha says, mustering all the enthusiasm he can.
Sebastian eyes him for a moment.
“They can’t all be hot giants,” he says. “On the plus side, boobs!”
Misha’s more of a leg man, really.
Fridays, despite what some people would have you believe, are not fun fun fun fun fun. Especially for Misha, who never gets enough sleep during the week and is consequently dragging by the time Friday rolls around.
This is why Misha is carrying a large cup of coffee at 9:05 am the following Friday. This in turn is why he nearly spills it all over himself when he sees Jared the Hot Naked Giant standing over the copy machine.
The little jump he does instead merely sloshes some of the coffee onto the gray carpet. Like Misha cares. What is the hot naked guy doing in his office?
Jared is, of course, not actually naked right now. He’s wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a navy blue polo shirt and looks basically like everyone else in the office, except that he’s, you know, way hotter.
And also Misha totally knows what he looks like under the clothes.
Jared is really focused frowning at the asshole copy machine that always jams all the time and Misha would really like to help him out except for the sudden desire to fall into a hole and die. He rushes to his cubicle, sneaking stealthily behind Jared, and hides.
The hiding goes really well for about twenty minutes, when Sebastian sidles up.
“You will never guess who just started as an admin in Accounts Receivable,” he says. He’s obviously on the verge of bubbling over with delight.
“Jared the naked guy,” Misha says.
Sebastian deflates, which is pretty fun to see.
“I guess you saw him, then,” Sebastian says.
“I’m gonna hit on him,” Sebastian tells him. Of course Sebastian is going to hit on him. If he didn’t Misha would worry that something terrible had happened to Sebastian. So Misha just nods again.
“You’re not going to hit on him too?” Sebastian prods.
“No!” Misha says, a little too loudly. Jennifer across the aisle raises an eyebrow to let Misha know that she is totally listening to their conversation and would like to know more. Misha lowers his voice.
“He’d think I’m only interested in him because I know what he looks like naked.”
Sebastian looks at Misha like he’s out of his mind.
“Well, aren’t you? I mean, he could be an idiot. Or a jerk. It’s not like we know anything about him, other than that his name is Jared and he has a smoking hot body.”
For once, Misha has to admit that Sebastian has a point.
“And I, for one, intend to get on that,” Sebastian says, winking at Jennifer before sweeping away.
“Good luck,” Misha calls after him, feeling even more morose than is usual for a Friday.
Misha spends the rest of the day in his cube, like the good little worker bee he hopes his boss believes him to be.
He does the same on Monday, putting in his ear buds when Sebastian comes by to no doubt regale him with his stories of hitting on Hot Naked Jared. Fuck Sebastian and his stupid self-confidence and stupid British accent making him seem all sophisticated. Misha once saw Sebastian get really drunk and sing an embarrassingly heartfelt version of Wind Beneath My Wings at karaoke. Misha knows the truth.
On Tuesday, Misha tells Sebastian he isn’t feeling well and could not possibly go to art class.
On Wednesday, he talks to Jared.
When pressed by Sebastian, Misha finds it difficult to explain exactly why he’s so perturbed by Jared’s sudden presence in the office. But when Jared comes over to introduce himself and ask him a question about how the old AP files are organized, Misha realizes it really comes down to a few factors:
1. Jared is really hot.
2. Misha has seen him naked.
3. Misha would like to see him naked more.
4. Misha is an idiot.
“Um, they’re filed by vendor, and then by date,” Misha says. He can feel his face burning and ducks his head, shuffling some papers so he can avoid Jared’s eyes.
“Misha?” Jared says.
“Mm hmm?” Misha asks, still not looking up.
“It’s okay, you know,” Jared says.
“What?” Misha asks, stupidly. He finally looks up. Jared is leaning against Misha’s cubicle wall, and yeah, he’s still incredibly good-looking. Misha wishes he’d had time to sketch Jared’s face, with its angles and planes and the soft fall of hair not quite obscuring his eyes.
“It’s okay,” Jared repeats. He flushes a little himself. “Look, I can see that you’re embarrassed, but...don’t worry, okay? I’ve been doing the art model thing for ages, since I was in college, and I’m used to it. It’s for art, right?”
“Right,” says Misha in a rush. “It was for art. Yes. Art.”
Jared grins - it turns out he has dimples, which would make Misha weak in the knees if he weren’t sitting down.
“You want to go get lunch?” Jared offers.
“Oh, um...” Misha glances at the clock on his computer. It’s 12:04 and okay, he’s pretty hungry. “Sure,” he says, giving in.
Jared doesn’t really know where the good places to eat around their office are yet, so Misha takes him to the deli across the street and around the corner, where they get sandwiches and slide into a booth opposite each other. Jared devours his sandwich like he’s dying of starvation, and Misha can’t stop himself from staring just a little.
“It takes a lot of fuel to keep me going,” Jared says, looking a little sheepish. “I have a pretty fast metabolism, and I do a lot of exercise.”
“Yeah, I could tell,” Misha says, without thinking. He then proceeds to flush so hard it’s nearly painful.
Jared grins again. There’s a sly look on his face that doesn’t exactly help Misha’s flush die down.
“I used to be this really skinny beanpole,” Jared explains. “I had this crazy growth spurt when I was in high school and you could pretty much knock me over with a feather, I was so skinny. I started working out a lot and...I just got really into it, I guess.”
“That’s cool,” he says. “I’m...I’m not really into the whole working out thing.”
“Well, you’re an artist. You don’t need to be all muscley.” Jared leans back against the booth, stretching his arms out to either side.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m an artist,” Misha agrees, laughing. “I’m just moonlighting as a cubicle slave.”
“Hey, I spend a lot of time around artists, I know how it works.” Jared rests his head on his shoulder and eyes Misha and Misha suddenly realizes - Jared is flirting with him. Misha feels a little lightheaded. He knows that he’s a pretty good-looking guy, but he also knows that he’s a big dork and hell, a straight guy would probably go out with Jared.
Misha takes a bite of his sandwich to take time to consider his options. By the time he swallows, he has an idea.
“You know, I didn’t actually get my sketch the way I really wanted it. Do you think you could sit for me sometime?” Misha asks.
“Oh, sure,” Jared says. “Any time.”
“Should I invite Sebastian to come along?” Misha asks, teasing a bit, just to see what Jared says in response. The corner of Jared’s lip twitches.
“Nah,” he says. “Too distracting.”
They agree to meet on Thursday evening after work, which gives Misha some time to think about this. He goes to art class on Tuesday with Sebastian where they draw a pretty boy who’s barely eighteen, which makes Misha feel like a perv, especially with Sebastian’s (pervy) running commentary.
Misha has lunch with Jared on Tuesday but not Wednesday because he’s too busy with work. On Thursday they go to the Thai restaurant near work for lunch and it’s almost like a real date. Jared is wearing dark jeans and a white button-up. His shoulders are...really really good and Misha’s fingers are just itching to draw him.
They chat about work, and sports, and who had the craziest professors in college, and Misha’s dog when he was a kid, and Jared’s dogs now. The conversation is relaxed and easy and before Misha even realizes it, the food is gone and their hour is up.
“Should I bring anything tonight?” Jared asks. Misha shakes his head.
“I’m just going to order pizza, if that sounds good,” he says. “I’m not much of a cook, I have to admit.”
“Really?” Jared says. “I would have pegged you for a foodie. I love to cook.”
“Well, next time, I’ll come over to your place,” Misha says. He can hear the pulse beating in his ear as his heart speeds up, but he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“That sounds fair,” Jared says easily, his mouth curving up on the left.
Misha’s apartment is kind of a ridiculous mess, so he works out his anxiousness by cleaning it for a couple hours before Jared shows up. By the time there’s a knock on the door, the place more closely resembles a human habitat and Misha can open the door without worrying too much about what his mother would think.
Jared is wearing khaki cargo shorts, flip-flops and this v-neck black t-shirt that shows off his neck in a way that Misha thinks might actually be indecent exposure. He welcomes Jared into his apartment before a passing cop can arrest him for illegal hotness.
“Oh awesome, beer,” Misha says as a greeting, spotting the six-pack in the curl of Jared’s arm. “Pizza’s on its way, by the way.”
“Cool,” Jared says, making his way in. He looks around for a moment before sitting down on the sofa and - before Misha can say anything - pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto the chair.
“Um...what is...?” Misha asks intelligently. Jared leans back and grins.
Misha has seen Jared’s chest before - he’s seen Jared’s everything before - but it wasn’t so close up and the fact that Jared’s in his living room and not a community center rec room surrounded by artistic old ladies makes it a whole new experience.
“Isn’t this what I came for?” Jared asks. He pauses, and adds with a leer that Sebastian would be proud of. “You know, so you can draw me?”
“Right,” Misha says. “Just...let me go get my stuff.”
When Misha gets back to the living room with his sketch pad and pencils, he finds Jared laid out on the sofa, his feet up on the arm rest. He’s still wearing his shorts, but the zipper is now open, revealing black underwear beneath.
He looks like pornography.
Jared doesn’t say anything when Misha pulls a chair out of the kitchen nook and sits down opposite the sofa and starts to draw.
He starts with Jared’s torso and waist, concentrating on the creases in the shorts, being careful with the shading. Jared’s shorts are low enough that Misha can see the line leading down his pelvis - which Misha really wouldn’t mind licking - before working his way up to Jared’s abdomen.
“So, how often do you work out?” Misha asks, immediately wincing at how much of a line it sounds like, even though he’s pretty sure that at this point, pickup lines are probably unnecessary. He attempts to hide his embarrassment by focusing on his art, smearing a bit of his pencil work to get the shaded effect he wants.
“Pretty much every day,” Jared murmurs. His eyes are still closed.
“Dedication,” Misha says.
“I’m a dedicated guy,” Jared says. He smirks. “S’fun to watch you draw me. It’s so cute, how serious you look right now.”
“I don’t look cute,” Misha says, mock offended. “Manly, hot, devastatingly handsome, maybe. Cute, no.”.
“You’re plenty cute. Among other things.” The words are flirtatious, but Jared says them in a low voice that is anything but innocent. Misha glances away from his nipples for a moment and realizes that Jared is hard.
“This turns you on?” Misha asks. “Knowing that I’m watching you? Knowing that I’m objectifying your body?”
Jared doesn’t even answer, just lets a hand trail down his chest, toward the opening in his shorts.
“Stop,” Misha orders. “I’m not done drawing you.”
Jared freezes his hand at the edge of his underwear, tucks a thumb in under the elastic, letting the rest of his hand lightly cup his dick through the fabric.
Misha wants to rush, but Jared’s shoulders and neck deserve a lot of concentration. He pays close attention to the musculature, capturing the sinewy stretch of Jared’s neck as he leans back and shoves his hips once. It’s an almost slow and lazy motion, but Misha can see that Jared is now fully hard.
Oh this picture will never be seen by anyone else, Misha knows that as he starts in on Jared’s face, his mouth wide and wanton, with one arm thrown back for his head to rest on. It’s obvious what Jared’s thinking about and Misha can’t complain, he just has to get this down, show those cheekbones, that mole, the funny sharp nose, the shadow cast by the eyelashes, the-
“Misha, just get the fuck over here,” Jared growls.
Misha drops the sketchpad and realizes almost to his surprise that his dick is as hard as Jared’s. He climbs onto the couch and straddles Jared’s waist, finally leaning down to touch skin he’d only drawn before.
Jared pushes himself up, the muscles in his stomach straining, and catches Misha in a kiss. He doesn’t have much leverage in his position, but the kiss intensifies when Misha pushes down on Jared’s shoulders, shoving him down.
Misha pulls back for a moment before leaning in again for another kiss, opening his mouth to press his tongue into Jared’s mouth. It’s heady. Misha isn’t a small guy and no one he’s been with has been this much bigger than himself, and having that body underneath his own, wriggling and responding to his touches, it’s pretty fucking amazing. Misha kind of wants to just pull his jeans off and fuck Jared right there.
“So fucking hot, Misha, thought you were so hot when I saw you in that class,” Jared is saying. “Couldn’t believe it when I saw you at work. Of all the fucking places you could work. Feel so lucky.”
Misha grins, and presses his hand against Jared’s cock, through the fabric of his underwear.
“I’m feeling pretty lucky myself right now,” he says with a grin. Jared can’t hold back a huff of laughter that quickly turns into a groan when Misha’s grip tightens.
Jared moans with approval and grips onto Misha’s waist, guiding him into position, to line their cocks up together. Even through Misha’s jeans, the touch is electrifying, and it only gets better when Jared tugs open his jeans and shoves them down. Misha pulls down Jared’s shorts, and Jared lifts his hips to let him slide them down.
“Kiss me,” Jared demands, and Misha complies, kicking off his jeans and leaning down to kiss him, gasping as the pressure of their dicks together increases. Jared pumps his hips up shamelessly, in ragged and uneven thrusts. Jared is kissing Misha’s neck and licking his ear and fuck, Misha’s going to have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow or answer some pointed questions (or possibly have to answer some pointed questions about why he’s wearing a turtleneck), but he doesn’t really give a shit because this feels truly fucking amazing. Jared’s hazel eyes are wide and there’s sweat dripping down his beautiful neck and Misha incongruously wishes he could draw this moment, the moment before Jared seizes and comes. Instead, he just watches, wondering if maybe he could recreate it later.
It’s just a moment before Jared recovers and reaches one of his massive hands down to grip Misha’s dick. The sight of that hand on his dick is pretty much enough for Misha, and his own orgasm comes rushing in with a spark of fire along his spine and flashes of light behind his eyes.
They’re still both lying there, gasping and wordless, when the doorbell rings.
“Pizza!” calls a voice on the other side of the door. Jared starts cracking up.
Shit, thinks Misha as he begins to scramble for clothing. He throws on a shirt without even cleaning the come off his belly first, which is going to be delightful later.
“Next time,” Jared says, pulling up his shorts. “We are definitely not ordering in.”