Touched By Fire

d clay-like always-but there was something else. Something humming underneath it all. Not n

th

nervous laughs. Just bam, a kiss. Like all the spa

. raw. Honest. Kinda like when lightning hits d

frozen there. Her fingers in his shirt,

r. Touching her like he wanted to memorize every angle, every dip and rise. Like she was his next masterpiece, no

r, tugging. Not hard. Just... needing. Pulling him closer. Needing

shed. Paintings leaning crooked on the walls. Tools on the floor, scattered like they'

ig arched window. Soft. Cold. But ev

k, slow like he was tasting a secret only she knew. She gasped-quiet but

like... all her rules? The lines she'd

t showy. Just... sure. Like he'd done it a thousa

rug she always thought was too soft for the room. An

ic hit her back, and

ot from cold. From... something

it was like he was asking. Are you

hout speaking. Her h

esit

eir bodies had their own lang

e collar-gone. Underneath? Yeah... he looked like someone who worked with his whole body.

first-tracing his chest like she wasn't totally sure this was real. Warm skin. That steady beat underneath

fumble. It was like... like undressing her was part of a ritual. Reverent, yeah, that's th

th

ike it had given up. Pooled around her f

now. Vulnerable? Maybe. But

ust a body in the moonlight. She wa

t now it touched different skin. Her skin. Made her l

quite his mouth. His eyes... devouring. But not in a gross way.

hispered. Not a l

rted. She didn't say anyth

ation. No slow burn. Just full-on need. Messy. Deep. Real

Muscle memory from dreams. It wasn't perfect c

ounds-moans, gasps, breathless laughter, all of

hick with the scent of skin

later." Just touch after touch after touch. A whole

body. Her reactions. Her silence. Her shivers. He moved between

. No holding back. Matched him for every sigh, every movement. Like s

God-it was too much. But not enough. That ache in her belly turned

d out. Loud. Pure. Nothing held back. Just

like a string snapping. His breath c

iet. But it wasn't empty quiet. It was... full. Full of every

er eyes. Then her lips again.

is chest. That steady beat und

say much. J

it meant something. Like it

-still low, still wrecked from bef

breathed. "I

at. Just... being. The studio around them

hadows across their bodies like brushstrokes. Like a

d seen it all. Now they held the echoes. This pl

maybe-that chan

e moved. Just a little. Barely anything. Just enough for him to notice. Her face pre

her in tighter. Like, yeah,

notice. She reached for that old cloth nearby-covered in paint stains and t

e whispered, "That... wa

ibs with his fingertip. Slowly. Like he

ds. But somehow... everyth

ah these old sketchbooks-full of things, messy things. Stuff he never showed anyone. Scribbles. Things half-formed. Some beautiful. Some kinda dark. Things that weren't

at you see, but what you feel. And what inspires him? It wasn't what she expected. Not just other artists. No. It was... smaller things.

omething alive out of dead matter. She talked about resistance. About how stone pushes back. How that matters. And Leo-he watched her work like he was trying to memorize h

chatting. It was like... two people showing their inner wiring. Lay

ork around the edge of a new piece. She was

No buildup. "You don't look at them. You lo

catch light. Not just... visually. I me

real. "Maybe we're halves, then

than usual. His face shif

he said, voice low. "No one el

like it didn't want to be found, was a

thick velvet, smelled like t

his usual stuff. These were... dark. Honest. Him. But not the v

cracked a little. "This is all the crap I

way. Just stepped closer.

Not because they're pretty. Bec

And something settled. Softened. Lik

ghtly. "Thank you. For

asn't loud. But

Them as them. The studio didn't feel like just a workspace anymore.

calm, real. Unshaken. And in doing that, he started painting his past. The pain. The mes

everything felt... too loud. Too fake. The pressure. The silence after an exhibition t

Fully. Eyes n

Not just heat. It was soft. It was slow. And it said things that words couldn't

ng in the clichéd sense. It was... trust. It was, I see you. An

t dancing together. Not one behind the other. Together. Like breathing the same breath.

just th

ost alive. Like the walls themselves were watching. They were pouring everything into this piece-their joy, pain, confusion, and, well, whatev

parts of themselves out and smashing them into something ne

at on brows, clothes half-covered in smudges that told t

aw. Honest. Like if someone asked what love or pain looked lik

it cool. "You cracked me open," he said, voice

smear of blue paint. Her fingers brushed it. "You did the s

Just them, and the smell of oil paint and old wood

real Frankenstein of their styles. Leo's backdrop? Wild. Like galaxies exploding and

ed to. A glance. A raised eyebrow. One of them sig

e-once Leo's retreat from the world-started turning int

times. Sometimes just laughing. Or arguing about which brush st

was... slower. More intense. Like... you touch someone and it says more than words. T

ther under the soft light of the windows, it wa

e other flinch. What made the other smile in that crooked

ting enough, they ended up just... lying there. On this massive rug. Th

her jaw with his fingers

like this again," he

econd. Then: "You never stopped b

silence with weight. They were just lying there. Her hair a mess across his chest. His fin

. You know that kind of sigh that's not real

d finally, voice low, "what

look up. "Wha

ight. If you hadn't looked at me like th

d, but gently. Almost like she was

a little too fast. "I'm

pa

resent. Not

air. Not dramat

s chest now, eyes searching his. "Y

. And it broke him a l

dded, and his voice cracked a little at the end. "I thoug

inish. Didn

discovering a new color. One you

of laugh that shakes your che

ng. Breathing the same air. Heartbeats fall

.. softer. Not f

m felt the need to say the r

it was more than that. Like her whole self just kinda melted into his

id, "You've done the same for me, Leo." A pause. Then quieter, like she was still

look that pins you in place and makes you feel-seen. All of y

extraordinary, right?" he

mazed. "Extraordinary? Leo, it's not even the

ng to memorize the feel of it, the taste, the everything. It wasn't just heat.

It wasn't perfect, but it was real. Like, deeply real. The studio kind

ach other. No walls. No lines. Just skin, and breath, and that weird elect

y both knew-this was still the beginning.The silence between them... wasn't really silence. It was full. Like the kind of quiet that hums. Heavy, but not bad. Just... full of meaning th

aring through it. "You think this... whatever this is... you think it las

keep choosing it. Every day. Then yeah, I think it could." Another pause

ile, but real. "Ye

h, too. Not just from the bodies tangled on the floor. From