Robert got home, sat down at his kitchen table, and immediately pulled out his sketchbook. For the next few minutes he stared at the white, heavily textured paper in front of him.
This called for marker and ink.
He started sketching - first two figures, except he didn't want to draw himself, so it became POV shots. Joseph sucking his cock. Joseph, sitting atop him, grinding against him: face flushed and clothes wrinkled up. He paid special attention to Joseph's fussed-up hair, and that pink, agitated cockhead.
He pushed his chair back and looked at it from afar. The art was bright and vibrant, full of primary colors competing for attention. There seemed to be nothing left to do but to outline it with thick, black ink. Robert took his ink pen and went quickly, hoping for small, subtle mistakes that tainted the work in traditional, physical media.
He picked up the picture. There it was: Joseph grinding on top of him, frotting with him, cocks rubbing together and smearing cum all over each other. Robert surveyed the piece with a technical eye, trying to find flaws. Unsatisfied, he set it down.
He groped his hard cock. He needed a shower. And dinner. He'd been drawing for an hour.
He came back from his shower, his dinner, and did it again, carefully noting Joseph's face when he ejaculated, and their cum, mixing together, dripping. Robert exaggerated the amount of semen to what it had felt like over what was realistic: he made it copious, overflowing, messy. It felt appropriate.
~~~
Robert went to work the next day, walked into the office with his head down. Mason was behind the desk wearing a blaring, neon orange suit. "Hey there!"
"Good morning."
Mason spoke quickly in a way that didn't befit his Southern accent. "Sorry I left so early yesterday. My sister got in a car accident. She's fine though. No scratches or nothing. The car is totaled which is why they were worried about her... I think the hospital just wanted some money."
"Oh." Robert didn't have much to say to that.
"You good working on that poetry book? We need to send it to our client by tomorrow."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." Robert sat down and retrieved his work sketchbook. Today was going to be fine. Today would be -
Joseph walked in. Robert kept his eyes pinned to his desk as he opened up his sketchbook to a fresh, blank page.
"Good morning!" Mason said to him, grinning. "Sorry for leaving work early yesterday. The author sent back her notes. Here, I think we should go over them together... actually..." Mason opened up his laptop and started typing avidly. Joseph paused wordlessly, waiting for his boss to continue. Then: "I emailed you both the document. I think you and Robert should go over it as a team, since you two are better realists than I am."
"Okay." Joseph said, not unenthusiastically. He sat beside Robert at the table and pulled up his phone. Robert pulled his own phone from his pocket, but then Joseph leaned forward, intending to share the view with him. They pulled in together to look at the tiny screen. Robert could feel Joseph's body heat radiating. "It says here," Joseph began, "That they want the colors to be more pastel... and for there to be less linework..."
"I think less linework would be good. You have so many lines it's hard for the eye to focus." Joseph smelled like... lavender? Roses? Did this man use women's soap? "Abstraction and exaggeration would be good, here."
"They wanted my work for it's realism." Joseph sighed.
"Just because it's abstracted doesn't mean it doesn't have shape and space. Ask any animator."
"...you're right. Alright, how does this look...?" Joseph started sketching onto the page with a firm, bold hand. Robert absently watched him work, trying to adjust his half-chub beneath the table. Fuck.
Just then Joseph leaned in even closer to Robert. Still drawing, he mumbled: "Did you draw us when you got home?"
Robert's heart skipped a beat. He swallowed. Looked away to Mason, who was on his laptop, working on a digital painting. His gaze shifted to Joseph's hand in movement, fingers loosely gripping the pencil. "Yes." He whispered.
Robert heard Joseph softly snicker. "I'd like to see them."
Joseph finished his drawing, then, and Robert studied it - or, he tried to. Joseph had put his pencil down, and now had his hand on Robert's knee. The touch was electric. Robert curled his toes, his boner refusing to go down.
"I think... adjusting the character's proportions... isn't the right move..." Joseph nodded, his hand moving up to stroke Robert's inner thigh. Robert found it hard to breathe. "I think that... you know, the realism can remain, and..." he swallowed thickly, "uh, here, let me see if I can find this one artist..." Robert shakily took out his phone, and Joseph's chin was nearly resting on his shoulder.
He swore he could feel Joseph's breath as he spoke. "Are you hard right now?"
Robert's cock was aching.
"Do you touch yourself to your own drawings?" His voice was so soft, tickling his ear, pushing them into their own space away from work. "Or do you think about how tight and hot Mason's ass is... or how eager and wet his mouth is... or do you think of me...?"
The back of Joseph's hand brushed against Robert's cock, which was straining painfully in his pants. Robert cleared his throat and spoke loudly. "See... this is the artist I was referring to. See the way they keep the realistic proportions correct while still abstracting?" Joseph's fingers stroked and played with Robert's cock as he pulled forward and looked at Robert's phone.
"Yeah. Ok. I'll get to work, then."
And suddenly Joseph pulled away, grabbing his sketchbook and standing up to go sit at his own desk. Robert watched him go, then looked back at Mason - still oblivious and at work on his tablet.
Robert sighed and tried to will himself to focus. It was not easy.
~~~
Robert stayed late in the office that day. Done with his work, Joseph left around four thirty, leaving the other two behind. Robert had his illustrations for the poetry book due tomorrow, and he spent time refining and sketching out the cat in the way he figured the poet had described it.
"Hey."
Robert blinked and looked up.
"It's seven."
"What?" Robert blinked and checked his phone. "Oh. I... I'm sorry."
"Is that your piece? It looks done to me." Mason quipped, looking at the gray graphite cat.
