Muse

Chapter Two

Four weeks later

‘Damn it.’

Remus had murmured the words under his breath as he climbed the stairs onto the bus, but the old lady behind him still glared as if he’d screamed obscenities at the top of his lungs. Remus smiled grimly in apology and glanced at his watch again as he sat down. He‘d done some overtime at work and missed his usual bus, catching the next scheduled one instead. It meant that he was going to be late for his Friday evening art class though.

He was spending his days working at the latest in a long line of menial positions - serving coffee in a large chain store - and his evenings trying desperately to recapture his old skills. He slept irregularly and fitfully, constantly counting down the days until his showing (six months remaining) and debating whether to cancel now or take the chance that his talent would return and he could get some canvasses done in time.

Maybe no matter how hard I try, I’m never going to get my talent back.

In his art class, Serendipity had taken them from painting fruit of all varieties to different types of flowers to a startling array of inanimate objects before she bought her sleeping puppy in for them to sketch last week. It was the first time Remus had tried a live subject since his accident and he was angry that he’d failed miserably to adequately capture the tiny Labrador on the page. He still wasn’t sketching anywhere near well enough to think about creating some art for his showing, and his paintings would be laughed at if he hung them alongside the talent that would be sharing the opening with him.

He buried himself in the corner during the thrice-weekly classes, needing space as he tried to work. By the end of each three hour lesson, he’d surrounded himself with growing mounds of balled up paper and his mood made him unfit to be in the company of others. His first instinct after his repeated failures had been to quit the class, but his generally tenacious nature made him stick with it. The other students had made attempts to speak to him at first, complimenting him on his work, but soon gave up trying to be friendly when he answered them in monosyllables or snapped at them sharply. Serendipity had given up on trying to encourage him, the woman sensing he was battling with something deep inside himself and leaving him to his own devices. Remus was ashamed of his tetchiness, but there was nothing - nothing - more important to him than relearning how to be the artist he used to be.

The bus jerked to a halt and Remus snapped out of his reverie, realising this was his stop. He snatched up his backpack and hurried off the bus, picking up his pace as he checked his watch again and realised he had missed the beginning of the class. With another three blocks to go before he reached his destination, he started to jog, weaving through the evening pedestrian traffic, his bag banging against his hip.

~*~

Sirius looked around, more nervous than he liked to admit. He was usually a confident person - over-confident if you listened to James’ red-headed keeper - but this was an unfamiliar and confronting situation that had enormous potential for humiliation.

What if I’m bloody useless? Fuck! What if there’s a hot bloke there and I get turned on?

A hard on was something he didn’t need while he was standing naked in front of ten strangers. Sirius worried his lip. He couldn’t back out now; James would never let him live it down. Sirius swore under his breath then, pulling the robe the hippy woman had handed to him earlier after ordering him to strip tightly around him, he peeked through the curtains and watched as Serendipity clapped her hands to get the class’ attention.
As she explained that she had a surprise for them tonight, Sirius glanced around at the students. All older couples by the looks of it, and he smirked in relief.

No chance of getting a boner from any of them.

Serendipity turned towards the curtain and, seeing him peering through the drapes, waved him over. He smiled at the group as he walked out then, at the woman’s urging, slipped off his robe. A few of the women giggled and one grey-haired woman winked lewdly at him. More at ease now, he chuckled then paid attention as a pink-faced Serendipity suggested an appropriate pose.

~*~

Remus tried to walk as quietly and unobtrusively as possible into the room, sitting in his usual corner and quickly setting up his easel and sketch pad. He glanced at the centre of the room where usually a small podium with a bowl of fruit or vegetables or a vase of flowers sat, but instead of the usual unappealing objects, there was one very appealing, very naked male.

Remus blinked a couple of times, wondering if he’d died and this was heaven. The man had his back to him, but Remus approved of what he saw - an immediate jolt of arousal making his breath hitch.

Christ! Has it really been so long that a bare, well-formed back gets me going?

Remus shook his head, sucking in a long, calming breath then picked up his pencil. He found it difficult to concentrate, though, instead staring at the dark-haired model’s arms as they tensed from holding the pose. Remus watched the play of muscles under the lightly tanned skin, the movement mesmerising him until his focus was broken by a little giggle from his right. Turning his head, he saw one of the older women - Glenda, he thought - grinning knowingly at him. He realised his appreciation of the brunette had been all too obvious and flushed, turning back to his sketch pad as Serendipity called out, ‘Switch’.

There was a rustle of paper as the students turned to a fresh page and the dark-haired man moved. He stretched languidly, bouncing a little on his heels. Remus’ mouth fell open as the muscles in the back of his legs and buttocks flexed and strained before relaxing again. The model turned, taking Serendipity’s advice on his positioning - which did nothing to flatter what Remus could now see was a bloody amazing body. His skin prickled with a sudden acute sense of awareness as his eyes ran over that ivory skin; his gaze not an artist’s objective appraisal, but the hungry leer of a very turned on male. Remus imagined how he’d pose the young man if given the opportunity, feeling heat rising to his cheeks as he thought about the various positions he’d very much like to see the brunette in.

The model flipped his hair out of his eyes and, with the little movement, caught sight of Remus for the first time. His eyes widened a little then the corner of his mouth turned up. Remus looked away, busying himself with his sketch pad and trying not to notice the tremor in his hands. This man, this… Adonis …was shaking him up.

It really has been a long time.

Serendipity cleared her throat pointedly behind him and Remus looked reluctantly back at the man. He’d turned his head now - his profile in Remus’ line of sight. Putting pencil to paper, he let his hand move as he stared at Adonis, this time, his artistic eye doing the evaluating rather than his libido.

The man really was beautifully formed. His proportions were lovely, his muscle definition was strong, but not overly built up, and his limbs were long. His smooth-looking hands were long=fingered and elegant, and there was not a strand of ebony hair out of place. His profile was almost regal with a classic straight nose, full but not too plump, blush-pink lips and long, thick eyelashes. Remus couldn’t see his eyes properly now and hoped he’d move to face his way next so he could catch another glimpse.

Remus checked his drawing, surprised that the lines looked a little better today. His hopes rose and he continued to work for a few minutes before letting out a grunt of exasperation and flipping the half-done sketch over. The hands had stumped him and he was furious that he’d let himself start to think he might be getting his mojo back.

Obviously I’m as fucked up as ever.

Remus ran a finger over the scar on his face, a motion that had become habit, and grimaced. Here in front of him was the very image of perfection and he couldn’t capture it. That bloody accident had robbed him on his very life force - what the hell was he going to do without his art? He felt like half a person.

As Serendipity called ‘Switch’ again, he scrubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to fight back despairing tears. Several clients had offered their portraits for his showing and he had accepted a few of the better ones, but he needed more. He’d already called the gallery manager to cut back on the space they'd allocated him, knowing he’d only have time to do a few new paintings. Remus had hoped to sneak in a few sketches to take up space, but even that wasn’t looking too promising right now. He sighed heavily then looked up as Serendipity finished posing Adonis.

Good God in heaven! What did I do to deserve this?

The man was facing him, legs stretched out in front of him as he reclined on a stool. There was not one single inch of the front of his body left unexposed and Remus' own body reacted urgently to the improved scenery. He swallowed hard, trying desperately not to let his eyes fall below the man’s waist and failing entirely. What he saw laying at the juncture of the model's thighs was enough to make Remus' pants uncomfortably tight and when he glanced up at the brunette’s face, he could see the amusement and appraisal in the other man’s eyes.

His eyes...

Remus' jaw dropped slightly in surprise. He’d imagined earlier, after a fleeting glance, that those eyes were perhaps light blue or even a light hazel, but they weren’t. They were grey; an unusual silvery-grey that drew Remus’ attention like a magnet. For a moment, Remus simply stared, blatantly and unashamedly. He’d never seen eyes quite that hue before and suddenly, his arousal lost its edge and his hand moved automatically to his pad. A familiar thrill of excitement twisted inside him as he dragged the pencil swiftly but with precision across the paper. He leaned over the pad, his fringe falling into his eyes but he didn’t stop to push it away. He hadn’t felt this kind of exhilaration in many months and he didn’t want to examine it too closely or distract himself - he was just going to let the sudden urge take him over and see where it led.

~*~

Sirius watched the brown-haired man as he leaned over his easel. Something about the young man had piqued his interest. It could have been his sudden appearance had startled him, it could be that he was the only person (besides the odd teacher) close to his own age…

Or it could be that he’s a pretty good looking bloke - even with that scar.

Sirius had seen the way those blue eyes had darkened as they travelled over his body and knew that if he approached the man, there would be no need to hedge around the subject of sexuality - no straight man would look at a naked bloke as thoroughly as he had.

He is an artist. I could be reading his interest wrong…

The man glanced up at him again and Sirius struggled to stop himself smiling at him, instead holding his neutral expression and, frankly, ridiculous pose. The scarred man didn’t seem to be looking at his pose though; his eyes focused on Sirius’ but their gazes weren’t linked, the young man seeming to look past his stare. He turned back to his paper with a slight frown, nose nearly touching the pad as his hand danced the pencil quickly over the surface. There was an intensity, a frenetic energy to the man’s actions that made it almost impossible for Sirius to tear his eyes away.

Several minutes later, a loud clap made Sirius jump and tear his eyes away from the artist.

‘Alright,’ chirped Serendipity. ‘Let’s take a break. Mr Black…’

‘Sirius,’ he corrected as he beamed at her and he was amused to see her blush.

‘…Sirius…’ Serendipity murmured, squirming slightly. ‘There is tea or coffee…’

‘Thanks, but I’m fine,’ he said, ignoring her disappointed expression as he stood and stretched.

Who would have thought lounging around posing would be such a strain on his muscles? This modelling lark was a bit harder than he thought it would be. He looked towards the brown-haired man who had risen and was now frowning at his pad. Sirius’ eyes ran over his long, rangy frame appreciatively.

There are compensations to the aches and pains, I suppose.

He tugged on a robe and moved towards the young artist who saw him coming and looked as trapped as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

‘Hi,’ Sirius said, turning on the inherent Black charm. ‘I didn’t see you when I came in. I’m Sirius Black.’ He held out his hand and smiled when he saw colour rise in the man’s cheeks. ‘And you are…?’

The other man hesitated then said, ‘Remus Lupin.’

The name was uttered almost reluctantly and the hand came out slowly to grip Sirius‘. The artist’s fingers were long and graceful as they wrapped around the brunette’s hand, but his grip was firm and Sirius found himself wondering how it would feel stroking over his body. His swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat, and inclined his head towards the easel.

‘Can I see what you’ve done?’ he asked and the other man’s face blanched a little before he glanced over at his pad nervously.

‘Um, it’s not very good…’ he stammered, but Sirius just chuckled.

‘I can’t draw a stick figure, mate,’ he said brightly. ‘It’ll look as though Picasso did it to me.’

Without waiting for an invitation, he shifted so he could see the paper then froze. The page was full of drawings of…eyes. Not faces, just eyes and Sirius frowned in confusion.

‘You only drew my eyes?’ he asked, looking over at Remus with a befuddled expression.

‘I…didn’t…er…’

Seeming to give up on getting out a coherent sentence, Remus shook his head and his hand shot out towards the easel, but Sirius was quicker, grasping his hand to stop him from closing the pad.

‘No, let me look…’

‘It’s not good.’

‘It’s very good.’

Remus frowned. ‘You just said you wouldn’t know good art from a hole in the head…’ he reminded Sirius and the other man grinned.

‘I know what I like, thank you very much, and I like this,’ he told him. ’But why only my eyes? I’m sure there are other parts of my body that are just as interesting…and a whole lot more fun.’

Sirius grinned flirtatiously at the other man and was pleased to see his face flare crimson.

Oh, he had definitely noticed those fun parts!

Remus opened his mouth then closed it before he opened it once more and stuttered, ‘I…just…draw the most…’

‘The most…?’ Sirius encouraged.

‘Beauty.’

The word almost exploded from Remus, who seemed surprised to hear it voiced, but continued softly, ‘I draw beauty.’

Sirius smiled broadly and, though he could scarcely believe it possible, the other man’s face got even redder as he realised what he’d blurted out.

‘You think my eyes are beautiful?’ Sirius teased gently and Remus groaned, shaking his head.

‘I don’t…choose what I sketch,’ he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he tried to qualify his blunt statement. ’It just…it’s an instinct. That’s what I wanted to draw, what I could draw.’

Sirius stared at him for another moment then asked, ‘What do you think of it? You said it was no good - why?’

~*~

Remus blinked several times, surprised that the brunette had asked Remus to explain what was wrong with the sketch. He made a noise which he hoped sounded like he was considering the question as he turned back to the pad, praying that if he wasn’t looking at Adonis …Sirius… he might be able to string an articulate sentence together. He looked at the etchings properly, objectively, and a crease appeared in his brow.

‘Well? What's wrong with it?’ Sirius asked, a little impatiently, but Remus just shook his head, staring intently at the page.

It was difficult to capture the human eye effectively sometimes - they were so expressive, showing many facets of emotion at once and ever-changing in tone and tint depending on mood, and these eyes were no different. They didn’t hide anything the man felt and Sirius Black’s captured orbs clearly showed the brunette’s amusement, contemplation and, to Remus’ libido’s joy, arousal.

‘Well, shit,’ he whispered and Sirius cocked his head curiously.

‘What?’ he asked.

Remus shifted his eyes to the waiting man and smiled his first genuine smile for months, unaware of the disruption he’d just caused to Sirius’ stomach as thousands of butterflies took flight inside the brunette's stomach.

‘Um, they aren’t all that bad actually,’ he admitted, smile widening as a grin spread across Sirius’ face.

The sketches were not only ‘not all that bad’, but they were damn close to equalling some of his better works. He eyed Sirius speculatively, appraising the man whose eyes were the source of his comeback.

I might just have gotten my inspiration back.

TBC..