Gi-hyeon held out the robe hanging on the rack.
Through the sheer, flowing fabric, his hand was visible behind it.
Do-gyeom stared at the robe, and Gi-hyeon added, almost as if making excuses.
“It’s because the lines of movement and the joints are important.”
“Where should I change?”
“You can change in the bathroom over there.”
Do-gyeom headed to the bathroom to change.
When the bathroom door closed, Gi-hyeon turned and made his way back to his seat.
The esquisse sketches piled on the desk were waiting for him.
“Um, Artist-nim.”
Do-gyeom’s voice drifted out from behind the door.
Startled, Gi-hyeon dropped the paper.
“Yes?”
“Do I need to take off my underwear too?”
“No! You can keep it on.”
His voice came out higher than usual — flustered, Gi-hyeon cleared his throat.
He had drawn everyone — attractive young men, elderly figures with the rings of a long life etched into them — yet for the first time, he felt anxious.
A tension as though he himself were standing bare before the model.
At the absurd feeling, Gi-hyeon laughed quietly and picked up the paper.
Just then, the bathroom door opened.
Gi-hyeon’s hand stiffened with tension.
Do-gyeom hesitated in the doorway, seeming unaccustomed to the light clothing.
A slender silhouette showed through the thin fabric.
Gi-hyeon found it difficult to take his eyes off Do-gyeom’s hollow collarbones and reddish nipples.
On instinct, his gaze naturally slid down to the underwear riding low on his hip bones.
As if burned, Gi-hyeon caught himself and snapped his head away.
Making an effort to maintain composure, he held out the drawing paper to Do-gyeom.
“Just take a pose like this. The work will go into fine detail, so it’ll probably take around an hour.”
“It looks like this alone would be sufficient, even without a model.”
Gi-hyeon’s esquisse was flawless, just as Do-gyeom said.
The arm muscles pulled taut by the tilted torso, the supple waist bent like a bow, the precise position of the raised pelvis — all of it was accurate without a single flaw.
Do-gyeom stared at the drawing paper with wide, admiring eyes.
At his guileless reaction, Gi-hyeon smiled and shook his head.
“The problem is that it’s all there is — a shell with nothing inside. This isn’t the kind of painting Gwok Un wants.”
“What is it that the Young Master wants?”
“That’s something I’m not entirely sure of either.”
At the cryptic answer, the humor faded from Do-gyeom’s face.
He pulled the robe closed around him with a wary look.
Gi-hyeon looked at the hand gripping the robe, knuckles pressing through.
“Are you nervous?”
“……I’m not sure I’m capable of this.”
“I’ll draw it out of you, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
Gi-hyeon took hold of Do-gyeom’s wrist.
Through the thin robe, he could feel the full joints beneath.
Making an effort not to dwell on the sensation, Gi-hyeon led him to the center of the studio.
Gi-hyeon swept his bare feet — slippers left behind — across the rug.
“This will be better than the bare floor. If it hurts, say so — we can rest and continue.”
Gi-hyeon returned to his seat and set the paper-mounted board on the easel.
Once all the preparations were done, he fixed his gaze on Do-gyeom.
Do-gyeom looked thoroughly tense, as though the idea of being a model still hadn’t settled in.
After a moment’s hesitation, he let the robe fall.
The instant that near-bare white form was revealed, Gi-hyeon understood.
Just as Gwok Un had said — he had been desiring Do-gyeom.
Following the esquisse, Do-gyeom placed his hands on the floor and slowly lowered himself face-down.
Even with the scene he had wanted unfolding right before his eyes, Gi-hyeon felt a contradiction stir inside him.
He wanted to bolt out of the studio that very moment — and he wanted to capture Do-gyeom on paper.
Barely managing to pull his emotions together, Gi-hyeon approached Do-gyeom.
He knelt down to correct his posture.
He placed a hand on Do-gyeom’s pelvis.
“Lower your back.”
When he pulled the pelvis upward, the back dropped down.
Gi-hyeon gently stroked the small of his back to ease the tension — and Do-gyeom exhaled a long breath.
Gi-hyeon carefully slid his knee between Do-gyeom’s legs and pushed outward.
“Spreading your legs a little more will make it easier to hold the position.”
Do-gyeom’s back trembled in small, fine shivers.
Gi-hyeon realized he had been gripping Do-gyeom’s pelvis too tightly and let go.
He stripped away the desire and sat back down.
The pencil drew frantically — the subject he had longed for without end.
Delicate bones and soft skin seemed almost tangible, rippling across the paper.
Having quickly completed the basic work, Gi-hyeon set down the pencil.
He approached Do-gyeom again.
A rough, broad-lined hand lifted Do-gyeom’s chin.
And then it grazed those moist lips.
“Your lips are soft.”
Gi-hyeon’s hand slid down to Do-gyeom’s chest.
Delicate yet resilient skin wrapped around his hand.
“And the rest of you is much the same……”
Gi-hyeon caressed Do-gyeom’s earlobe and breathed into it.
He whispered low into that reddened ear.
“Has Gwok Un ever touched you like this?”
At the mention of Gwok Un, the heat in those eyes cooled instantly.
Gi-hyeon set his teeth against his earlobe.
“Hng——!”
“That was a pointless thing to say — if he had, you wouldn’t be this sensitive.”
Gi-hyeon lavished attention on the earlobe bearing the mark of his teeth.
Do-gyeom’s face, floating somewhere between pain and sticky pleasure, was obscenity itself.
The moisture in that flushed face was more than enough to provoke any onlooker’s desire.
Before he knew it, Gi-hyeon had forgotten about the work entirely and pressed his tongue into Do-gyeom’s ear.
The tears hanging from those drooping eyes were dizzying.
He whispered tenderly.
“That’s it — you’re beautiful. Cry more. For me.”
Unlike before, Gwok Un stared at the drawing for a long time.
It wasn’t explicit in the way pornography is — but the flushed face, the back arched up like an animal’s, and the knuckle-prominent hands were unmistakable sexual suggestion.
The Do-gyeom in the drawing made the viewer imagine things.
And those imaginings called up a familiar sensation.
Gwok Un licked his dry lips.
“How is it.”
His instincts hadn’t been wrong after all.
He smiled with satisfaction and let the drawing he’d been holding drift down to his chest.
His languid arms embraced the paper like a lover.
“Beautiful — the people of the art world are going to look like they’ve been ravaged.”
Gwok Un kept his gaze fixed on Gi-hyeon as he pressed his lips to the drawing.
The paper rustled as the lips it met moved.
He looked up at Gi-hyeon with a provocative tilt.
“That boy — there’s something strange that clings to him, isn’t there. Can’t you imagine it? That innocent face, how it would twist in bed.”
“……”
“Even I hesitate sometimes.”
Gwok Un, who had been draped loosely in the chair, pulled himself upright.
He pressed the drawing from his chest into Gi-hyeon’s arms.
“As long as you produce results that satisfy me, you can be as insolent as you like — just as you have been. I’m a results man.”
Gwok Un smiled arrogantly and patted Gi-hyeon on the cheek.
He liked the look in Gi-hyeon’s eyes.
Those eyes — with nothing to his name and yet completely unbroken — resembled the Eun-hyeong of long ago.
Thinking of his lover, Gwok Un whispered gently.
“So do your best.”
“……”
“Let’s proceed using only my face on this — you’ve worked hard.”
***
Left alone, Gi-hyeon stared at the drawing in a daze.
The thirst he had thought would be quenched by making Do-gyeom his model remained exactly as it was.
Gi-hyeon felt as though he had found the answer to a riddle that had seemed on the verge of being solved but never quite was.
He let the drawing drop without hesitation.
***
On the day Gwok Un agreed to model, Gi-hyeon watched him twisting and writhing without a moment of stillness and furrowed his brow.
“Your expression is really not working.”
At Gi-hyeon’s jab, Gwok Un flicked his toes.
“Is that so? I’m doing my best. Why don’t you try doubting your own abilities?”
“Not the least bit sexy — stiff as a plank.”
“Hmm.”
“If you can’t do it properly, go touch yourself or something.”
Three weeks had passed, and Gwok Un and Gi-hyeon had done away with all pretense of courtesy toward each other.
Gi-hyeon had begun showing his hostility toward him openly, and Gwok Un had let his true colors show.
At the blunt remark, Gwok Un — who had been doing a handstand — laughed playfully.
He slid sideways onto the sofa and his thigh was exposed.
Gi-hyeon caught sight of the red handprint on that white thigh and looked away.
Gwok Un threw a languid, suggestive look.
“Never done it myself before — want to help me out?”
“I’ve never had a man like you under me, and I have no intention of doing so.”
“That’s something you can never be sure of.”
“If you’re going to keep this up, I’m stopping.”
As the air in the studio thickened, Gi-hyeon pushed the easel aside.
At the level-headed response, Gwok Un shrugged.
Just then, Do-gyeom entered the studio carrying art supplies.
At the sight of him, Gwok Un curled his lips as though a good idea had just occurred to him.
At that smile, Gi-hyeon felt an unease he couldn’t explain.
“Do-gyeom-ah, come here.”
If there was one thing he had come to understand since arriving here, it was that instincts are usually right.
Gi-hyeon bit the inside of his cheek irritably.
As Do-gyeom approached, Gwok Un closed his eyes and whispered tenderly.
“Kiss me.”
Do-gyeom blinked, not yet registering the situation.
Gwok Un smiled richly and cracked one eye open.
“Is that not alright?”
Do-gyeom’s face flushed a deep red.
He carefully cupped Gwok Un’s face in his hands.
Those dry hands trembled so visibly it was almost pitiable.
Like a boy — gently, tenderly — he closed his lips over Gwok Un’s.
But Gwok Un seemed unsatisfied, and roughly pried Do-gyeom’s lips open and pushed his tongue inside.
Following his own desire, he gripped Do-gyeom’s neck and ransacked the inside of his mouth.
The sight of their tongues tangling made Gi-hyeon recall the feel of Do-gyeom against him.
Overcome by something unbearable, Gi-hyeon snapped the pencil on impulse.
At the sound of it breaking, Gwok Un bit down on Do-gyeom’s lip and shifted his gaze.
“Had enough?”
He smiled with saliva-wet lips.
Gi-hyeon ground his back teeth together looking at that shameless face.
Gwok Un wiped his lips and gave Do-gyeom’s shoulder a light push.
The gesture — wordlessly signaling that business was done — stained that flushed face with humiliation.
Gi-hyeon followed Do-gyeom with relentless eyes as he showed his emotions only to Gwok Un.
In the end, Do-gyeom bent deeply at the waist and left the studio.
Gwok Un, seemingly not the least bit interested in the wounded Do-gyeom, combed his hair without a care.
“Now I suppose I’ll finally get to see that vaunted skill of yours.”
Those distinctly contemptuous eyes of Gwok Un’s turned to Gi-hyeon.
Gi-hyeon was suddenly seized by an impulse to grind that arrogant face into the floor.
He tapped the remnants of the pencil against the air.
Graphite dust scattered and dissolved into nothing.
“That’s not going to work for me.”
“What?”
