Archive of Our Own

Subject: Quick layout update for The Purple Satin Hands

Dear Michael Wheeler,

We are so excited for your launch just around the corner!

Just a quick heads up – our sales and marketing teams did a final review of the print layouts, and they have decided it is best to remove your author photograph from the final book.

To be very direct, considering this is your first release, our goal is to maximize mainstream appeal and eliminate any potential barriers to a sale.

In today's market, author photos can sometimes create unintended visual preconceptions that alienate certain reader demographics. We want your words to speak for themselves, so we don't inadvertently turn off potential buyers before they give the book a chance.

Thank you for your unders—

The loud snap of Mike shutting his laptop almost echoed back from the break room walls, making him regret the aggressive force almost immediately. He was too afraid to check if he’d accidentally broken the screen, so he ran his hand over his face up to his forehead and into the frizzy curls, harshly rubbing at his eyes until he saw stars.

It was a late afternoon at the office. As usual, Mike took his break later than his coworkers to have the common spaces to himself without the chatter or the smell of microwaved tuna – even the evidence of these crimes still lingered hours later, to Mike’s disdain. The air smelled of drip coffee, cigarettes, and cheap cleaning products, the mix always causing Mike to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

Under the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, he sat with his untouched lunch and the now-shut laptop, pressing the balls of his hands into his eye sockets.

Unintended visual preconceptions.

The phrase echoed back and forth in his mind, loud and grating, scratching at his inner skull and stirring up the dirt of insecurity with careless force.

He’d felt good about the picture.

He was smiling, but not too much – it appeared genuine, not overwhelming. The dark curls sitting on his head looked perfect that day, thanks to Will. He even wore a little makeup to cover up some imperfections, didn’t wear any of his piercings, and wore a polite shirt. He looked nice.

So, what was it about his face that—

“Why so cheerful today, Mr. Wheeler?”

The plastic Tupperware being set down on the table beside him was obnoxiously loud, and his face immediately pulled itself into a scowl.

Fucking Derek.

Mike despised Derek with a searing, burning passion. He was too loud, polite – but Mike could feel it dripping with fakeness. Derek also loved to gossip – the nasty, despicable type that made Mike’s mouth feel sour anytime he caught a glimpse of his delighted expression whenever a coworker shared something personal. He was annoying.

And worse, ever since he’d unfortunately encountered Will and Mike during one of their Friday dates at one of the queer-friendly bars downtown, he’d latched onto Mike like a nasty, joy-sucking leech.

Will said it ‘only made sense he was trying to connect with his only other queer coworker’ – respectfully, this was not it.

This was a silent competition on who was the better gay guy of the office, and Mike was in utter disbelief about the fact that he was losing somehow – even though he wasn’t even participating.

Pressing his lips together into a tight smile, he took a deep, slow breath before finally revealing his face again.

“Just some annoying email– doesn’t matter, anyway.” Scrunching up his nose, he glared down at Derek’s reheated tomato spaghetti as if it had personally offended him.

Derek gave him an up-and-down, like he was waiting for him to give in and spill the beans anyway, then shrugged.

“Fine, just remember, you have a listening ear right here, my friend,” he sing-sang, stabbing at his pasta. “Hey, remember that time I was asking you about...” he looked around the lunch-break room, dropping his voice into a low mumble. “Your boyfriend’s art show?”

Mike miserably leaned back and stared at the beautiful lunch of white rice with green beans and fried tofu his fiancé had prepared so lovingly for him this morning.

“Derek,” he sighed, dripping with self-pity. “Why are you whispering it like that? You know it’s not like a secret.”

“Well, sorry,” Derek raised his hands in defence. “You always act like he’s a secret. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Well, my fiancé is not a secret. I just don’t like to mix my private life with work, so you don’t have to whisper about it like it’s a dirty little secret—it’s not. Glad we cleared that up, again,” he picked up a bite of his lunch to escape this conversation sooner rather than later. It had gotten cold from all his fussing over dumb emails telling him his face was a turn-off in his own book.

“Anywho, so I got a little email myself last night updating me that he’d be throwing another one! My husband and I were thinking about coming to see it as well – but, I told him, Harry, I’m not sure this guy wants us there – honestly, I’m not even sure he’s gonna be there himself, and wouldn’t that be too weird to go to my coworker's boyfriend’s art show if he’s not there himself?” Derek began his usual ramblings, like Mike’s body language wasn’t very clearly communicating that he wanted him gone.

“Derek, I don’t care where you go in your free time. He will be delighted about your visit anyway...” Mike rolled his eyes, stuffing some more food into his mouth. Then, stopped, frowning. “Wait? Why the fuck wouldn’t I be there?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Derek shrugged, rolling up his disgusting pasta. He liked to bite the fork while eating. Mike thought that was irritating. “You weren’t talking about it and considering your whole...situation, I thought you might want to avoid,”

“Jesus, Derek. I’m not in the closet—“ he answered through gritted teeth, biting the inside of his cheek.

Derek raised his eyebrow at him.

“So…it’s fine if we stop by?”

“It’s fine. And I will be there, for the record; I was always going to be there.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait. My husband, especially, he’s a sucker for art. Actually, he—”

“I’ll tell Will you’re coming.” Mike interrupted him, his mouth moving before his brain caught up about how rude that truly was, mentally scolding himself for lowering himself to Derek’s level.

“You do that,” Derek smiled sweetly, and it was sickening.

Pushing the metal door open to the empty smokers' balcony, the cold air rushing against Mike’s face made him shiver and squint his eyes. Thanks to the weather, all the smokers already dissipated once they got their hit in and headed back to the offices, making it a perfect spot to enjoy some silence.

Well, silence from everyone except…

“Hi, baby!”

A soft smile automatically formed on Mike’s lips as he leaned his forearm against the metal railing, taking in the view of parking spots outside his office building.

“Hey, sunshine. Did I interrupt anything? I’m on my break.”

“No, I actually just sat down for a little break myself. What’s up?”

From the shifting in the background, Mike guessed his beloved was sprawled out on their sofa, setting down a cup of coffee. The image made him ache to leave this place even faster than before.

“Nothing much, I just wanted to hear your voice.” He confessed, scratching at the metal under his hand. “Derek was being annoying in the break room; I had to escape. Speaking of, apparently his husband and he are planning to come to your art show.”

Will cooed through the phone.

“Aw, that’s nice of them. I’m surprised you told him about it.” Will’s voice was filled with surprise, and painfully for Mike, excitement.

Mike opened his mouth, closed it again, bit his bottom lip. For a second, he considered lying – but that wasn’t him.

“No,” he admitted. “Apparently, he googled you after he met us at that bar and subscribed to the email updates. But, uhm, is that…would you want me to have told him?”

“Uhmm…” Will hummed at Mike’s suspicious tone, pondering for a correct answer. “It’s not that I want it or don’t want it. I’m fine with whatever you think is the best way to handle us at work. Why?”

“No reason, I was just thinking that…” Mike decided that, for the better, this was not the place for this conversation. “Actually, forget about it – I’ll tell you at home. Maybe.”

Will’s little frustrated whine made Mike smile.

“I can’t stand you.”

“Well, too bad. You’re stuck with me,” he teased. “Anyway, how’s the painting going?”

“Pretty good, I think I might finish it soon. Speaking of, when are you getting off today?”

“Uh, normal, I think, but the way today is going, I’m thinking of handing in my notice and heading out 5 hours early.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun. Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head even though he knew Will couldn’t see him.

“Not really, nothing to be done about it,” Mike glanced around when the door flew open behind him, “And I have a feeling it’s about to get worse, anyway.”

“There you are!” The intern looked out of breath – he was almost Mike’s age, which he always thought was a little awkward. “Marcie wants you in her office.”

Turning the phone away from his face, he subdued a roll of his eyes. “’kay, I’ll be there in a second.”

Raising the phone back to his mouth, he turned away from the exasperated expression of his coworker.

“I got to go. Should I pick up anything for dinner?”

“Okay! No, don’t worry – I can cook us something. Just hold on, babe, about tonight–“

“Yeah? What about tonight?”

The intern tapped frantically at his shoulder – which was infuriating. To Mike’s silent disapproval, this guy obviously didn’t care much for the fact that Mike was technically above him in the food chain.

“Mike. Right now – your break's been over for six minutes, and I’ve been looking for you for ten. Let’s go.”

Mike glared over his shoulder with a little sigh of defeat.

“Sorry, sunshine, I have to go get one of the interns fired – but tell me about it later, okay? I love you, see you.”

“Oh, okay,” Will relented, a smile in his voice. “Good luck at work—drive safe! 'love you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that last part. Can you repeat that, please?”

Will paused, a soft giggle of disbelief escaping him. “I love you, Michael Wheeler. Was that clear enough for you?”

“That was great, thanks. Let’s not let that slip-up happen again, shall we?”

Will hummed, feigning understanding.

“Thank you so much for your forgiveness, Mike.” Will purred through the phone, cloth moving somewhere in the background. “I hope your boss finally fires you so you can come home and I can show you properly just how much I love you.”

Mike felt shivers chase down his spine.

“…Hands on?”

“Full body contact, baby.”

“Urgh, babe–“

“Mike—” the intern squeaked behind him; beet red. “This is a professional environment—”

“Oh my god,” Mike turned back to face him fully, “Can you stop spying on my personal phone call? Jesus Christ.”

Will giggled through the phone.

“Sounds like I’ll have to do it on my own, goodbye Mr. Wheeler. Don’t actually get fired.”

“I’m thinking about it really hard right now.”

Will muttered something under his breath, scoffing.

“Bye!”

“Byebye”

Mike lowered the phone, watching Will’s contact disappear from the screen.

An awkward silence lingered between him and the intern.

“…did you seriously dirty talk to your wife in front of me just now?”

“However I speak to my partner is none of your business, actually.” He snapped, locking his phone and stuffing it into his back pocket, clapping his hands. “Now, care to explain why you were looking for me for four minutes of my break?”

“I already told you – Marcie wants you. You’re in home-office four out of five days of the week anyway; why are you complaining about four minutes?”

“I’m complaining because it’s illegal–“ Mike pulled the door open with a creak, disappearing inside.

Mike was irritated already – even more so because his talk with his beloved was so rudely interrupted.

Then, his boss decided to berate him for a total of fifteen minutes over his article about some celebrities’ ten cats not conveying enough ‘cuteness’, really kicking his irritation up by a good notch.

With the locked bathroom door indicating his fiancé was still scrubbing at his paint-stained skin, Mike beelined into the kitchen first.

Mike and Will lived in this apartment for a couple of years now, and even though it was well lived in, Mike was still very much in love with it.

The warmth always engulfed him as he entered, battling the cold from outside. The windows, thick and new, kept the noise almost fully locked out. Their home meant protection, silence, a respite from the hectic world – a space where they loved freely, unable to be reached by anything else.

It was a different area of the city, safer and more expensive, but thanks to Will’s success, they could afford it. Mike’s job paid well too, and thanks to most of his week being home office, he had plenty of time to work on his novels.

Will had drawn up a design for the interior even before they moved in, already knowing exactly where he wanted what. It all worked in harmony, and even Mike’s small touch of chaos somehow fit into the cozy appearance of their home. It was a mix of nostalgia and practicality – it was Mike’s favourite place in the world, besides Will’s arms.

He’d never understand how they got so lucky – maybe this was the universe’s way of paying them back for what they’d lost.

With his top two buttons undone and shed of his jacket and bag, he picked a fork out of their drawer and stabbed into the bubbling pan, gathering some spaghetti and slurping it up into his mouth much noisier than he was allowed to at the dinner table.

It was funny to Mike now, but back then—when they hit the one-and-a-half-year mark of living together and his eating habits triggered their first actual, strongly worded ‘discussion’—it hadn't been funny at all.

After brooding silently for a couple of hours, Mike had finally given in and sheepishly asked his then-boyfriend for forgiveness. Following a serious talk about the grievances they’d both been keeping close to their chests, they laughed at their own silliness and kissed each other stupid.

From then on, the codeword for communicating an issue became Radagast, and Mike’s slurping was banished to the confines of the kitchen—a rule he was making full use of right now.

Tan arms looped around his waist from behind. A warm weight pressed against him, making him hum in delight.

“You’re going to get tomato sauce splatter all over your white shirt,” Will purred right behind his ear, pressing his nose into his nape. The vibrations tickled, making him shudder.

Mike chuckled through his nose, sucking up the rest of the long pasta until the other end of it disappeared in his mouth.

“You just want me to take off my shirt…or you want the pasta; in that case, get in line—"

Will’s laugh quivered warmly in his chest, and Mike felt it pulsate through his back.

“Wrong.” Shaking his head, he buried his nose in Mike’s hair. “You know what I want.”

Tearing a piece of paper towel with a satisfying rip, he quickly ran it over his mouth to gather up all the tomato sauce.

Tentatively, he began turning in Will’s arms until they were face to face, his lower back pressing into the edge of their kitchen counter.

Smiling fondly down at him, Mike picked some wet strands out of his forehead as he took in the view – his flushed cheeks from the hot shower, the wet lashes, the droplets from his neck causing wet spots to form in the collar of his dark blue T-shirt.

“…hey,” Will whispered into the space between them, returning the smile with the very same amount of love and adoration.

“Hi,” he replied quietly, his hands smoothing down along his cheeks until they rested gently around the sides of his neck, thumbs caressing the soft space under his cheekbones. “I missed you.”

“I know, your call told me as much.” Will teased, his arms tightening around Mike’s waist, warm palms dragging long lines up and down his lower back.

A soft nudge of his nose against the tip of Will’s caused his fiancés eyes to flutter shut. Following the radiating warmth of his lips, he finally leaned down to close the small distance between them. Their lips slotted together – habitual, easy, regular and necessary, as natural as the sun rising and setting every day – into a sweet, gentle kiss.

Will sighed into the kiss, like he finally got a deep breath in after a long day of being pressed underwater – Mike understood.

Not wandering too far, he planted another gentle peck to the corner of his lips, then his cheek, finally leaning his forehead against his temple to inhale the smell of him – the lingering of vanilla soap, the smell of tomato sauce clinging to his wet skin, and the underlying note of Will he loved so much – it always reminded him of the way a cat’s fur smelled like after resting in a sunny spot all day.

“Can we just…” he sighed, pressing his lips to his cheek again. “…eat that delicious spaghetti, take all our clothes off and fall asleep without setting an alarm?”

“Sounds like a dream,” Will murmured, slumping his body against him. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but…”

Mike groaned, deciding to bury his face in Will’s neck, as if that would protect him from responsibilities. “What is it?”

“I knew you’d forgotten – you still don’t remember?”

“What? Forgot what?” he asked, suddenly in grave distress. His mind was racing, trying to conjure up what he’d possibly lost somewhere along the way – a dinner, a birthday, a meeting?

Will hesitated for a heartbeat, shifting in his arms.

“I asked you a month ago if you’d…pose for my painting, remember?”

Mike stood very, very still.

Slowly, he raised his head, locking eyes with Will.

Will arched his eyebrows at him, watching as Mike mentally retraced their conversations of the past month.

A memory popped into his head, of Will asking and Mike agreeing extremely enthusiastically.

A sickening sourness overcame him, the very same harrowing feeling he’d felt in the break room this morning.

“…fffuck–“ he threw his head back, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, Will, I’m sorry.”

“Mike, it’s okay–“

“No, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot– god, how did I possibly—?”

“Mike, baby.” Will cupped his cheeks, gently guiding his face back down to face him. Those hazel pupils always had this ability to calm him down, yet his shoulders stayed tense. “Please, calm down, everything’s fine.”

Will was blinking at him much too kindly, considering Mike was so up in his head he’d forgotten about Will’s painting – arguably something much more important than anything Mike had going on in his own life.

“You’ve been so busy this month, my heart. It’s just a painting, and you’re tired. I understand.”

“It’s not just a painting. It’s your painting and I—“ he rubbed his face again, hoping the dark circles came off with it. “You haven’t asked me to pose for so long! I should’ve– No. I’m not tired. Are you tired? Let’s do it.” He squared his shoulders, deciding right at this moment that no matter what, this was happening.

Will laughed softly, running his thumbs across his cheekbones.

“Mike–“

“I’m serious! I won’t sleep until I’ve sat still in front of you and a canvas for three hours at the very least.”

“My heart…” Will sighed softly, seemingly realising there wasn’t a point in arguing, and pressed a gentle peck to his lips. “Just promise you won’t beat yourself up about this.”

Mike grumbled something under his breath, yet still nodded apprehensively.

“I’m still sorry, but I won’t– I will try not to go crazy about it. That stands only if you paint me right now—”

Will’s eyes wandered over his features with tenderness, like he was searching for a clue, trying to read his mind.

“Okay,” Will finally gave in, smoothing his hands over Mike’s chest. “How about dinner first?”

“So, how was your day?” Will began as soon as they set their plates on the table, tone gentle yet pressing. “Are you going to tell me what you didn’t on the phone?”

Mike stared at the neatly curled forkful of spaghetti, shoving it into his mouth to avoid answering for longer.

“Well, Marcie gave me shit for not using enough cutesy adjectives for cats…” he began after swallowing, adjusting his legs so Will’s feet resting in his lap lay more comfortably. “…Derek was being a bitch during the break, but I already told you that.”

“No?” Will cocked his head, looking amused. “You told me he asked to come to my art show.”

“Yeah, but he was being really bitchy about it.”

“…How?”

“He was like…saying that like…like insinuating…” Mike poked at a piece of pasta in his cheek. “Whatever, honestly, it’s not worth…do you want me to shave? I need to shower, anyway, so I can–“

“Don’t change the subj—!” Will’s fork rested in the plate, and he stared at him with wide eyes. “Shave?” his tone and expression were akin to what Mike imagined he would look like if he’d just confessed to a murder.

“…Yeah?”

“Your…face?”

“What? No.”

Mike instinctively ran his hand along his jaw, feeling the regrown stubble scratch at the tips of his fingers.

He had never dared to grow it out, not even once in his life – his mother practically shoved him into the bathroom the moment it started showing, telling him it was important to ‘look cleaned up’. He was pissed off about it at first, but in hindsight he was thankful he hadn't gone through an awkward baby-stache phase. Mike wasn’t planning on it either – he was sure it wouldn’t turn out looking very sexy.

His body, on the other hand – a whole other topic. Mike wasn’t bothered to shave, so his armpits, chest, happy trail and…anything below the hip, really, was at full power. Will was the complete opposite – besides his armpits, his body was smooth, and anything that needed to be trimmed regularly was trimmed.

Obviously, they’d seen each other shirtless plenty of times before they had their first time together, but he remembered it popping in his head when Will slipped his shirt off for the first time – would the difference be a problem? A turn off, even? Was his mother right all along?

Thinking about his mother when he was about to have sex for the first time certainly added to the list of things Mike hated himself for.

But alas, Mike barely had time to feel insecure when they first took their clothes off, no time to even open his mouth.

Will looked…ravenous. His pupils blown and dark, wandering over the expanse of his chest like a starved predator moments before his lips collided with his torso and he’d made his way downwards at a frantic speed to nuzzle his nose into his happy trail, begging to get his jeans off already.

So yeah, Mike knew Will was certainly pleased with the way his body looked; that didn’t mean Mike lost sight of the actual, hairless beauty standard. He also knew the only times Will asked him to shave were the other paintings he’d posed for.

“My body, obviously? You asked me to shave the last couple of times, remember?”

“Because of my professor’s guidelines!” Will whined, his voice cracking. “And that was the worst semester of my life, I’ll have you know.”

Mike snorted. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“No! That’s a perfectly appropriate reaction!” Will insisted. “If I had known our subject was required to be bare, I would’ve never picked you.” Reaching out, Will placed his hand on top of Mike’s.

Gaping at him, he flipped his hand around to intertwine his fingers with Will’s.

“You would have preferred to stare at a stranger naked for an entire semester just to keep me hairy?”

“Mike,” Will’s eyes practically buried holes into his skull. “Sometimes it really feels like you’re severely underestimating just how sexy you are to me.”

Mike swallowed his last bite of pasta with a muffled laugh, ignoring the dizzying flip of his stomach at Will’s unabashed attraction to him. “You’re ridiculous.” Softly squeezing Will’s ankles, he gently dragged his feet out of his lap, now able to lean over the table and plant a gentle kiss on his fiancé's lips. “You’re sexy too. I’m gonna hop into the shower.”

“Without shaving?” Will blinked at him most endearingly, and Mike was unable to contain his smile.

“Without shaving,” Mike promised, picking up their empty plates to take to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Mike leaned against the bathroom sink, staring at his body in the mirror.

Thankfully, he’d gained some weight in recent years, losing the full lanky look. Thanks to Lucas’ workout regimen, the added fat also mostly went to the right places.

He took himself in, his eyes wandering upwards from the hair at the bottom of his stomach, across the lean muscles, soft hair at the center of his chest, the pronounced collarbones, and…

We don’t want your face to create unintended visual preconceptions.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and averted his gaze from the mirror, blindly picking at his eyebrow until he got a grasp on the small piercing ball and placed the small metal at the side of the sink.

Logically, he knew it was ridiculous to worry about his looks right before his husband-to-be was about to paint him. But the words were like a dirty stain, like sticky oil coating his inside and intruding every part of him.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he forced himself out of the bathroom, even with the heavy rock sitting uncomfortably at the back of his ribs.

Walking along the hallway, he allowed himself to slow down for a moment and soak in the memories they’d taken and put on the walls through the years – of house parties, friend vacations, and double dates, in between the solo polaroids they liked to capture of each other in moments of candidness.

A swallow never meant any harm, but its instinct to build was so all-consuming that in gathering mud and twigs for its own nest, it inadvertently stripped neighbouring birds of those very same materials.

Twenty years together was a long time; was Mike handling these memories with enough care, enough appreciation? Was he doing anything to deserve this, to keep deserving this? Mike didn’t want to be a swallow, but what was he doing to prove he wasn’t?

Stepping into the doorway of Will’s workroom, his boyfriend was already busy setting up a larger canvas on his wooden stand and sorting through his materials. Leaning against the wooden frame, Mike allowed himself to watch his beloved in his element if only for a moment.

The smell in the room lingered heavily, filled with a mix of oil paints, wood, clay, and something chemical Mike wasn’t knowledgeable enough to pinpoint. Even though it was strong and punchy, he learned to find it comforting. This was Will’s space, and everything here was his own way of writing, of maintaining their existence, their home, his own soul. It was deeply intimate to be welcomed here, and Mike treated the delicate invitation with featherlight appreciation.

Seemingly feeling his gaze burning on his skin, Will raised his head, a bright smile forming on his face.

“Hey, handsome knight, what brings you to my palace?” he grinned flirtatiously, expertly finding a small path through the mess until he reached the door.

“I was just passing by. I heard there are beautiful princes around here to feast my depraved eyes on…I see the voices were correct.” Tilting his upper body slightly backwards, he took in Will’s state of messy hair, sweatpants, and T-Shirt.

Beautiful

Will snorted and smoothed his hands along his bare waist, slightly digging his thumbs into the dips beside his hipbones.

“You are…” he whispered, his voice dipping into something low as his eyes wandered shamelessly. His fingertips trailed up along his sides, causing Mike’s breath to hitch and shivers to chase up his back, goosebumps forming on his skin. “…perfect.”

Mike felt hot and cold at the same time, somehow. His chest shook as he exhaled.

“Is it ethical to visually devour your art subjects?” he replied, his voice copying Will’s tone equally low.

“Well…” he smiled, coyly. “Some would argue that’s the most optimal state of artistry.”

Will leaned his head back.

Mike followed automatically, slotting his lips over Will’s bottom lip. With a soft hum that vibrated through Mike’s entire body, they shared a deep, lingering kiss.

Their lips separated, yet they didn’t wander far.

It wasn’t a big deal, not really – it was a painting, simple.

But Mike’s body felt on fire, lit with appreciation and Will’s searing gaze, taking in every bare inch of him.  

Will blinked at him up close, looking rather silly in this position yet endlessly adorable at the same time.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” he breathed and nodded slightly, smoothing his hands along the outside of his arms. “Where, how, do you want me?”

“Naked,” Will bit his bottom lip, a soft blush covering his cheeks. “On the sofa.”

Forcing themselves to pull away from the other, Mike hummed as he made his way through the room, shedding the towel on the way.

“Are you going to draw me…completely?” he dared to ask, voice hesitant. It’s not that he was opposed to it, but knowing this piece would probably be added to an art show in the future…

“No, I have a sheet,” Will shook his head, demonstratively lifting the folded white cloth in the air. “Also, there’s something else I want to try; it might not work, though, so…”

“Baby,” he interrupted and gave him a look, settling onto the small sofa at the side of the room. The cushion dipped slightly under his weight, but the material covering it was soft to his skin. “I’m all yours. Honestly, you could cut my hair for all I care.”

“Don’t even joke about anything of the sort happening. Get on your back for me?”

Mike sprawled on his back, blinking up at him.

He remembered the first time he was in this position, naked and vulnerable, baring himself for Will’s art. They were much more comfortable now, but it still felt incredibly special – to be viewed as something worthwhile.

Will gave him a little, absent smile, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he focused on making his vision come to life. He draped the sheet over Mike’s middle area, bunching it up slightly and allowing it to hang over the back to hide the rest of it. It was surprisingly smooth, even though it looked scratchy and textured. It wasn’t irritating his skin at all.

“Spread your legs– like, actually – spread your left leg to the side, like towards the canvas, and lean your right knee to the backrest.”

Mike did as he was told, swallowing dryly. Being instructed and placed like this always made him feel a bit fuzzy, especially when it involved spreading his legs.

“You’re perfect,” Will mumbled and slipped the sheet around the backside of his knee, looping it under to cover his crotch area and leave the rest of it draped over the edge.

“Okay, now…” Will whispered, curling his fingers around his left wrist. He guided his hand to rest right beside his groin, his fingers slightly dipping into the inside of his thigh. “Hold the sheet, like don’t bunch it up completely but– hold it carefully, almost like you’re scared the wind might get strong enough to blow it off and expose you.”

“Like that?” he breathed, chest feeling heavy.

“Yeah, exactly.” Will stepped away, picking up something from the side of the room. “Okay, before I pose the rest of you – I’m going to try this. Honestly, I wasn’t planning on this so it might be shit, but…”

“Nothing about your art is shit.” Mike immediately disagreed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, you get what I’m saying.”

Mike watched curiously as Will picked up a toothbrush and unscrewed a tub of gel.

Getting on his knees so he was face to face with Mike’s chest, he dipped it in.

“It might be a bit cold, sorry.”

Mike just hummed, rolling his shoulders back and bracing for the temperature.

Subduing a flinch when the toothbrush made contact with his chest, he left it at a sharp inhale and allowed Will to do his thing. The bristles tickled and scratched at his skin, making him shiver whenever he came close to his nipples.

They didn’t speak. Will was focused, and Mike was trying his very best to keep still. It felt intimate, yet comfortable and safe – like his heart was being cradled. Will’s breath tickled his arm, and the patterns being drawn on his chest made him almost sleepy, eyelids heavy.

“Mh,” he mumbled, and Will hummed in reply, eyes flicking up at his face.

“Feels good?”

“Yeah, tickles a bit but it’s like…making me tired.”

“It looks good…I drew a spiral. Its center is your heart.”

“That’s…cute.” Mike’s mind was lost and fuzzy, a certain weight rolling over him. “Is it because of what I said?”

“Somewhat,” Will admitted, “…it just made me realize that every time I drew you for a painting, you didn’t have the hair. This is a special day; I want to make it part of the painting.” Setting the utensils down, he leaned in to plant a kiss on Mike’s lips. “Every part of you is art.”

Mike pressed his lips and eyes shut, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You’re…” he grumbled, trying his hardest not to shift from shyness. “…evil.”

“Evil?” Will laughed, brushing a stray curl out of his forehead. “How come?”

“Complimenting me like this, when you know I can’t move or escape.”

“Can you blame a man for making the most out of such an opportunity?”

“Well, I’m blaming you so…yes,” Mike muttered under his breath, eyes fluttering shut when Will grabbed his chin and tilted his face towards the canvas.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this.” With a featherlight kiss to the side of his nose, Will stood back up, his knees cracking. “Can you throw your arm over your eyes?”

“Like this?”

“Almost,” with a gentle yet firm grip, he pointed his elbow further up, changing the angle of his arm.  Mike couldn’t see anymore, but his ear picked up Will taking a couple of steps backwards to look at all of him, return to readjust his other arm, move his hair, shift his leg.

“Okay, perfect,” Will murmured, and Mike heard him align the lights around him to accentuate the shadows in the right direction. “I’m going to take a picture – just in case. Can you part your lips a bit?”

Mike did his best to keep his breath even.

Now that Will was further away, he missed his touch, his breath. He felt cold and exposed, less protected than before.

“Okay, you can breathe normally again.”

“Can I see?”

“No, you look perfect right now – I’m going to start, if that’s okay. Do you want music?”

“Uhm…” Mike blinked against his arm, catching a small glimpse of Will in the small sliver below. “Sure, you can pick whatever.”

“Okay!” Will trilled cheerfully, heading over to their speaker. “I hope you’re not going to regret that.”

“Probably will. But I love you enough not to take it to heart.”

With a click, the starting tunes of The Cure’s “Pictures of You” started playing.

Will shuffled around the room, picking up and moving things, until the movement finally stopped.

The only noise left in the room was their breathing, the quiet music, and the collision of charcoal on canvas.

As silence fell over them and Mike allowed his eyes to shut, yet kept the tension in his body to stay tight as Will painted, his mind began to race in the free space the quiet gave it.

The day started well, actually.

Mike had worked from home the day before and fell asleep with Will in his arms. He woke up refreshed, well-rested, and made it to work on time after a lovely breakfast with his fiancé.

For some reason, his supervisor decided to welcome him into the office two seconds after arrival with a scolding for ‘not recording his breaks accurately’ and ‘foregoing the word count’ – which, mind you, nobody informed him of there being a word count for that specific text. And after rewriting and editing following every critique of his supervisor, well, the Email that finally made his stomach drop to the lowest pits of hell found him right before his break.

It is best to remove your author photograph; we wouldn’t want anyone to pass on the book because you’re too–

“Will?” he whispered, his voice raspy. The weight on his chest was too heavy. He felt like he’d burst any moment if he kept it in any longer.

Will hummed, and Mike took it as a hint to keep talking.

“I just—do you think my face would…turn someone away if they…if they saw it in my book?”

The scraping against the canvas stopped.

“…what?”

“Like, like if—” Mike’s voice, embarrassingly, broke. “Like if my picture was in my book, am I—visually unpleasant?”

“Mike,” his voice was low, almost like a warning. “Did someone say that to you?”

“No,” he denied, swallowing dryly. “My publishers wrote it in an Email.”

“What?!” Will’s voice pitched higher in disdain. “Hold on—like what exactly?”

Mike cleared his throat, the discomfort and shame sizzling away at his composure.

“They want to take my picture out because it ‘creates unintended visual preconceptions’. Which is…”

“Mike,” Will interrupted him sharply. “You’re beautiful, and you’re really handsome. Baby, I wish you’d told me about this sooner. I wouldn’t even have mentioned the painting if I had known you’re upset—” he clicked his tongue, mostly in disapproval with himself.

“Will—clearly, I’m not handsome, I just– What do they mean by preconceptions? Like, what do I—“

Will didn’t answer. With a click, Will set the charcoal down and began to cross the room, approaching the sofa.

Mike didn’t dare to breathe.

“My heart,” Will addressed him, quietly. Mike felt him standing right in front of him. “Don’t move,” he whispered, and the vibration travelled through the air, filling Mike’s body with a bubbling, hot buzz.

“What are you—” Mike’s voice caught when a warm hand made tender contact with his sole. Will’s palm pressed up against it, constant, firm, lifting his foot.

“My love.” His voice was but a breath. Mike had to strain his ears to hear the words.

Soft lips pressed against the roof of it, then, again, at the junction between his foot and his ankle. His lips were so pliant and hot, dry, not chapped.

I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel…

“Sometimes, when you fall asleep while I’m working in bed and the lights are on, you like to pull the covers all up over your head.”

A kiss to his shin, a firm press into his upper calf that caused Mike to groan softly in bliss.

“But you always, always leave a part of you poking out from the blanket. I like to—I like to draw, whatever you decide to show me.”

A kiss to the inner side of his knee, his thigh.

“My notebook is filled with your limbs at this point. Call me weird, I don’t care. But that’s how I know.” Will trailed his nails from his shoulder to his hand, scratching a trail that left goosebumps in its wake, grabbing his hand and pushing it up to pin beside his head.

Their fingers intertwined.

Mike swallowed, feeling his legs tremble when Will buried his nose into the sheet right beside his groin, kissing the soft skin through it.

“Know…what?”

“That’s how I know every part of you is beautiful.” He whispered into his skin, pressing his face into Mike’s happy trail. “I know every angle.”

A kiss to his stomach. The sofa dipped under the weight as Will crawled on top of him. “Every hair, every mole.” His sternum, his chest. “Every bone, muscle, tendon…” along his collarbone, his neck. “I know every part of you.”

Mike’s arm still covered his eyes. Will hovered right in front of his face, his breath tickling his skin.

Remembering you, fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone white, so delicate

Ever so gently, Will circled Mike’s wrist with his fingers, lifting it off to reveal his face.

His eyelids fluttered against the influx of light, slightly furrowing his eyebrows at the first glare of it.

Once his eyes had gotten used to it, his breath caught.

Will was ethereal, sitting on top of him, gazing downwards.

Illuminated by the lights, a charcoal stripe on his neck he was definitely unaware of, eyes resting on Mike like a warm blanket.

“Will…” he breathed into the space between them, hardly audible.

Will smiled and raised his hand to his lip, burying his face in his palm. He peppered soft, lingering kisses along the inside of his hand, up to his fingers. He gave extra care to every knuckle, every joint, every shifting ligament and tough cartilage. The entire surface of his hand tingled, like thousands of tiny bugs.

“Tickles,” Mike mumbled, but didn’t make any motion to remove his hand. Will’s body was a warm weight, pinning him down into the sofa and keeping his thoughts from wandering too far.

“Yeah?” Will smiled into his skin, pressing one more kiss to the outside.

He released his hand. Mike allowed it to drop beside his head.

Will framed his head with his forearms, running his fingers through the dark strands of his curls.

“And this face,” he began, taking him in. “I know best of all…”

Caressing along his temple over the top of his ear shell, their noses bumped.

“So perfect, every part of it. Unique, but beautiful. I can never get my eyes off you. It’s actually kind of a problem. You know why?”

“…why?” Mike breathed, and he was grateful for the sofa underneath him. He felt faint.

“Because…” he planted a kiss to the corner of his mouth, so featherlight Mike hardly sensed it. “I’m not the only one who sees you. Your face is a magnet in every room we enter. No matter the gender…no matter the age. Everyone sees you, everyone sees how beautiful you are, and worse, everyone wants you. Urgh.”

“Will—” Mike choked back the overwhelming emotions, laughing lightly. Will’s body shook thanks to his moving chest. “Sunshine, I think that’s you, not me.”

“Shut up, I know what I see. Especially the women. They want you bad.”

“Well, too bad.” Mike leaned his head to the side, kissing whatever he could reach of Will’s arm. “I’m on my knees for only one man.”

“Good.”

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart

“Mike, what I think you should do is…ask your publishers why exactly they want to remove your photograph. Hear them out, and if their reasoning is stupid, you insist they keep it in. If they have genuine reasons like data-based reasons, fine. But then that doesn’t mean that you’re ugly.” He nudged his nose with his own. “Got it?”

Mike sighed with a little smile, giving in.

“Okay, I got it.” He relented, the fuzzy feeling of being worshipped taking up all the space the insecurities occupied before. “Can you kiss me now?”

“No,” Will shook his head stubbornly. “I want to hear you say it first.”

“Sunshine–“

“Mike.”

“I’m…” he stared at the ceiling, squeezing his lips together. “Not ugly.”

Will poked his cheek, forcing him to look away from the ceiling and back at his love instead.

“Look at me when you say it, and…you know that’s not what I want to hear.”

Mike inhaled sharply and chewed on his bottom lip.

“I’m—I’m beautiful.” His voice broke, causing him to swallow and clear his throat.

“And…?”

“God. And I’m handsome.” Mike grumbled, the tips of his ears burning. “And you’re...”

“What?” Will grinned triumphantly, raising his eyebrows at him.

Mike sighed, relenting.

“…perfect. Baby, you’re perfect.”

Finally, Will leaned in the rest of the way.

Mike sighed into the kiss, sitting up as far as he could manage to deepen the lingering press of lips.

Will made a little noise and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head sideways as they moved against each other, trying to communicate the things they could never fully put into words.

The meaning of true, endless devotion to each other. As clear as the rivers flowing from the tip of the mountains, as pure as the taste of a strawberry grown in the wild, as bright as a field filled with yellow dandelions.

“Mmh…” Will hummed into the kiss, pulling away slightly just to be chased by Mike, insistently pressing his lips back against his. “Handsome—my beautiful, mh—beautiful boy.”

Sitting up slightly to escape the kiss, with his legs planted on either side of his stomach, Will lovingly gazed down at him, breathless.

Mike almost teared up at his beauty.

“Is that what you were talking about on the phone today? This email?”

Mike felt his own smile fall, mindlessly running his hands over Will’s thighs as he contemplated whether he should answer truthfully or not.

There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
My pictures of you

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he bravely shook his head.

“No, actually there was…Derek, he…” Gulping heavily, he moved his hands up to his waist. “Am I—a good boyfriend?”

“A fiancé, if anything.” Will corrected, curiously tilting his head.

“Fine, a good fiancé. Am I good to you?”

“Yes,” Will nodded without an inkling of hesitation. “I wouldn’t marry you if you weren’t.”

“That’s, that’s…” Mike stuttered, trying to keep his composure. The red from his ears travelled to his cheeks. “It’s just– Derek, he– the way he talks to me about you, it’s—it’s like I’m keeping a dirty secret or something.” Will raised his eyebrow, causing Mike to shake his head in immediate denial of the statement. “That’s not true, I’m not even keeping you a secret, or me. I just thought that—it would be best to keep my private life and work life separate for the time being.” He explained, desperately. “I mean, it’s a good enough job, well paid, plus – I need this job for the next three months at the very least. Until my book is out and the wedding is over. It makes sense, or I thought it did! Doesn’t it?”  

“We’ve talked about this, Mike,” Will shrugged, unable to understand the problem. “I agree with you. What’s making you question it?”

“When you asked if I told people at work about your art show, you sounded…so excited.” Mike averted his eyes, ashamed. “And Derek always said I act like it’s a secret – it isn’t. I want you to feel how proud I am to have you, for the things you’re achieving. I’m not ashamed. You’re amazing, Will. I’m– I want to show you off and make you feel good!” he exhaled, frustrated. “I feel like I got it all wrong with you, again. You’d think I’d grow out of this shit–“

“Okay, stop. You’re talking yourself into a spiral, babe.” Will raised a hand, shaking his head. “You’ve worked a lot this month, Mike. It’s literally all you’ve been thinking about – but you’re losing the big picture, my love.” Burying his fingers in his curls, he gently scratched at his scalp. “I would bet that you’ve told every single person outside of work about the art show, multiple times. Hell, sometimes I try to invite someone I hardly know, and they go: oh yeah, don’t worry, your husband already told me about it.”

Mike felt his face flush at being called husband, squirming underneath Will’s weight.

“Okay, well—”

“You were a great boyfriend, you are a great fiancé, and you will be an amazing husband to me. I know that with a hundred percent certainty, okay? I trust you.”

“Fuck, stop saying it.” He spluttered, covering his face. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I know. I think it’s cute.” Will beamed, uncaring of how red Mike’s face was.

“Maybe I’m great at being yours, just bad at being gay.” Mike hypothesised miserably.

“I know for a fact you are excellent at being gay,” biting his bottom lip, Will ran his fingers over his bare chest, twirling some of his hair between his fingers.

Mike stared at him, unable to contain the smile breaking through his face even as he tried to contain it through a bite of his lips. It shouldn’t be this easy to build him up like this; he knew that. Will still managed to do it every single time.

“Perv,” he grinned, poking at his hand. “Don’t harass the art piece.”

“You’re my art piece,” Will quipped, shrugging. “I can do whatever I want.”

Mike eyed him up and down, laughing quietly in disbelief. As his body relaxed further and further into the sofa, he sighed tiredly, the exhaustion returning to overcome him.

“Hey, you took a picture of the reference, right?” he asked, engulfing Will’s hands in his own. “Do you mind if we call it a day?”

“Baby, I knew this was over the second I came over here.” Will allowed his shoulders to drop, followed by his body, sinking until he landed beside Mike in the small space between his body and the backrest.

Mike turned to his side and curled into him, burying his face in the warm neck as Will looped his arms around him.

“I’m sorry about this. Today got me…got me bad, I guess.”

“Well…” Will hummed, drawing little circles on his back. “Thank god I’m in it for the good and bad times.”

Mike grumbled something under his breath, wrapping one of his bare legs around Will’s clothed legs, pulling him in closer. “I guess I can’t blame you for milking this. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Trust me, I will.” Will planted a kiss to the crown of his head. “How about a shower and some naked TV time?”

“Holy fuck,” Mike moaned into Will’s skin, planting a kiss to his collarbone. “Sounds glorious, especially since I won’t be the only one naked anymore.”

Like he was just reminded of it, Will absentmindedly ran his hand along Mike’s back until he reached the small of his back.

“Is that uncomfortable for you?” he wondered out loud. “When you’re naked, and I’m not?”

“Not really, maybe a little bit,” Mike shook his head. “But I mostly just like to see you.”

“Well, then,” Will sighed dramatically. “I suppose I have no choice but to shed myself of these garments…will you assist me?”

Mike slowly sat up, leaning over his fiancé with a lazy grin. “With absolute pleasure, my liege.”

Mike was overjoyed to swallow Will’s delighted giggles with a kiss.

“Mike!” dragging his eyes off the painting in front of him, he turned around in the direction of the call.

“Oh, Derek,” pulling his hand out of his pocket, he reached out to shake his hand. “You made it.” He analysed expertly, taking in his attire of a casual suit.

“We did, and I’m so glad we did.” Derek gasped with delight. “Harry is actually still stuck at the paintings in the entrance area – this is amazing! No wonder he’s so popular in the artist community around here – I had no idea!”

“Yeah, he really is...” Mike smiled fondly, glancing at the painting in front of them. “How do you like it? Did you get a plan? Every room has a different theme. I’m biased, but my personal favourite is the Impressionism room. Oh, actually, you’d probably prefer to talk to Will about this stuff. He is, uhm—”

“—very happy to see you’ve made it.” Will stepped up from behind him, reaching out to shake Derek’s hand.

“Oh! Will, it’s good to see you again.” Derek smiled politely, squeezing Will’s hand. “It turned out amazing! You’re a stunning artist, and that means a lot coming from me – usually, Harry is the art guy.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Will smiled shyly, instinctively stepping closer to Mike. “Is your husband here?”

“He is, but I lost him somewhere on the way.” Derek shrugged, glancing around. “When’s it time for you two to tie the knot, if I may ask?”

Will smiled happily, looping his arm with Mike’s.

“Two and a half months. Almost time, still not soon enough.”

Derek nodded with delighted approval. “Enjoy it – the time before and right after is the best. If I were to guess, the only feeling to top it is adoption, not that I would know, not yet.”

“I didn’t know you were trying to have a child.” Mike blurted out in surprise, earning himself a squeeze from his fiancé.

“Well…” Derek paused and blinked, visibly surprised. “You haven’t asked.”

“Right,” he murmured sheepishly, shifting in place.

“What about you guys? Plans for adoption?”

“Uhm…” the two exchanged a look. “Not really. We’ve had…a difficult childhood. We are settling for the cool uncle lifestyle – our friends will be glad for the help, and we appreciate our freedom.”

“That’s fair enough. I’ve always wanted to be a dad, but…we’ve been in the process for almost two years already. Who knows if or when it’s going to happen.”

“I see joy and optimism are being spread over here.” Harry, a man with the appearance of a typical teacher, appeared by Derek’s side. “Nice to finally meet you – I’ve heard so many stories about both of you. I’m Harry.”

“Stories? Only good ones, I hope?” Will chuckled nervously, shaking his hand.

“Of course! I mean, I’ve heard more about Mike – Derek tells me you’re an amazing writer, and now I know your husband is an amazing painter; I believe it without a doubt.”

“You’re too kind,” Will gave Mike a look and a little nudge. “Hey, Harry, how about we get us a drink and talk some paintings? Mike hasn’t been in the office recently, so I’m sure these two have some catching up to do anyway.”

“Oh! I like the way you think.” Harry grinned, squeezing Derek’s arm. “Have fun, bubba. I know I will.”

Will chuckled at his playful flirting, pointing them in the direction of the drink station.

Mike watched his husband-to-be run off with his new friend, apparently.

Once they were out of sight, he had no choice but to turn back towards his coworker. The silence was awkward.

“Derek, I—”

“Harry always tells me I come on too strong sometimes, Mike.” Derek rushed out the words like he was on a time limit. “I just wanted to apologize for…whatever I did to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, please, god.” Mike quickly shook his head. “Well, the whole…whispering about Will thing was a bit…but still,” he insisted, raising his hand. “I let the stress at work get to me and pushed it on you. That wasn’t fair, or professional. I’m sorry.”

Derek sighed, burying his hands in his pockets. “Seems like…we both got it wrong, huh?”

“Yeah…” Mike awkwardly averted his eyes, staring at one of the decorative plants. “Harry and Will seem to be getting along. Maybe we could…try again, to be friends. We could go on like…gay double dates, if that’s something you’re into.”

Derek smiled, his shoulders visibly losing some of the tension. “I would really like that.”

Mike smiled at the stranger flopping into the chair opposite him, holding back a chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“I loved your book, Mr. Byers. I can’t stop obsessing over it; my husband hates me for it,” the man said, leaning in closer. He rested his chin in his hand, batting his eyelashes playfully. “He swears you’re going to steal me away from him. So, are you offering?”

“Is that so? Well, thank you, I appreciate the compliment,” Mike replied, letting out a mock-disappointed sigh. “Unfortunately… I don’t think my own husband would agree to a third in the marriage.”

“Your husband can’t possibly be more beautiful than me, can he?”

“He’s the most beautiful of them all. You don’t stand a chance.” Mike gave him a pitying smile, reaching for the novel. “Would you like me to sign your book?”

“I don’t believe that for a second. But yes, please.” The man pushed the book across the table, opening it to the page with the author photo. He tapped the blank white space directly below it. “Right here, please. To Will.”

“Cute name. Maybe I’ll reconsider that offer after all.” Mike flashed him a flirtatious grin, his foot tapping playfully against Will's under the table as he leaned over the page.

To Will – Love and Sun of my life, can’t wait to see you back home <3