remy.

“Hm, I don’t like leaving questions in the air.” Remy teased softly, even if it was just likely that Remy enjoyed the idea of those dirty thoughts in Blaine’s head. He was still very much a Smythe after all, and Blaine did seem to have a certain power over them.  Remy’s bright eyes danced into Blaine’s they met his and Remy gave a little appreciative hum. “Hm, to you maybe.”  To him it was a chance to draw Blaine’s gorgeous body, even partly.   

Remy was already flipping through the pages of his sketchbook and by the time he flicked his eyes back up to Blaine, that sweater was off.  There was a little run-up and down of Blaine’s body as he soaked in that bare chest. Though it was a little hard to tell if he was checking him out or trying to memorize every line and cut of Blaine’s chest. It was properly both.  “Ah.” Remy finally pulled his eyes away from the shorter boy at the question before nodding over to the little ledge that leaned against one of the few windows in the loft. 

“How about you lean up against that….At…” Remy simply walked over and gripped Blaine’s hips, his breath hot on the back of the boy’s neck before he moved Blaine over towards the window, and turned his body just slightly away from where Remy was planning on sitting.  “Now…when I sit down, turn your head back at me, slightly over your shoulder. Like your…waiting for your lover to come home  He’s been away for a while. No one touches you like he does… “ Remy whispered into the boy’s ear. “ You know? Shirt off, the arch of your back…those dark beautiful eyes.  Just…gorgous in the afternoon sun. “ Remy mused before his hands gave Blaine’s hips one last squeeze before he moved back to settle on his spot on the ground, his pencil waiting against the paper. 

Chewing on the inside of his lip as he watched Remy look him over, Blaine wondered what was going on in his mind.  Did he like what he saw?  Was he supposed to like it in a way other than a subject?  Probably not.  Or.  Maybe?  Okay, so he was officially winging this and overthinking any part of it was probably the worst thing he could do.  Because he was clueless on what they were doing might mean to an artist.  Especially when that artist had the last name Smythe.  Tricky family to pin down, it seems.  

Like brother, like brother.  Just like the power he wielded over them?  The Smythes seemed to have their own abilities when it came to being able to baffle him to the point of speechlessness.  And to make him feel dizzy trying to keep up with their quicksilver tongues and uncanny adeptness with tying his into knots.  Goosebumps erupted over his shoulders, down them.  Then spread up from his hips and small of his back to meet somewhere in the middle of his spine when Remy touched him.  The prickly feeling of them continued to spread up his throat making a stark contrast against the heat of Remy’s breath on his skin.  

Blaine moved where he was guided, feet unsteady by the time he stopped.  Turning his head enough that he could only see a sharp jawline, he nodded his understanding and paced his deep inhale when Remy began to whisper as to not show how he’d been without air the entire time Remy was instructing him. Dizzying Smythes, indeed.  At some point, his eyes closed and he swore he could feel the imaginary hands of his pretend lover waiting for him in the dark.  “Okay,” his voice shook. Remy’s squeeze made Blaine’s back arch just like he wanted.  “Like this?”  Remy was gone and Blaine swayed up onto his tip toes before falling back to his heels as he found him sitting on the floor.  “What..  What should I do with my hands..?”