Work Text:
“Whaddya even learning in that fancy art school of yours?” Pressing the tip of her stylus to her bottom lip, Fujino turned to look at Kyomoto, who was lounging around on the bed. “Can’t imagine they taught you anything more than I did.”
Fujino’s bed squeaked as Kyomoto shifted her weight around. “Well, it’s… Western art,” Kyomoto said, in her usual whisper-quiet voice. “It’s different from what we did together.” She laid on her side, propping herself up with one elbow while her pencil danced across her sketchbook.
“Sure is different in that it doesn’t sell.” Fujino went back to her drawing tablet and sliced her stylus across the screen, drawing another line on the page. Her editor might complain that this chapter of Shark Kick was a little sloppier than the rest, but she figured that her strong sales figures could cut her some slack. In the reflection of her grotesquely-large drawing tablet, she could see that Kyomoto kept looking up from her sketchbook and glancing at Fujino for a moment, before her gloomy eyes went back to her page and her hands started moving again. Fujino felt an irresistible urge to tease Kyomoto bubbling up in her belly, an itch she couldn’t scratch very often since Kyomoto started going to college. She wheeled around in her chair, facing Kyomoto on her bed. “So you ever do any weird esoteric shit? Ever draw any nudes?” Lifting up her hands, she bent her fingers towards her palms, as if grasping a pair of imaginary breasts.
Kyomoto nodded. “Yeah… we drew a nude figure for a class.” She looked up from her notebook, looking Fujino right in the eyes. “We had a model.”
“What?!” Fujino felt her breath hitch in her throat. “Well, it was probably some old guy, right? Was probably pretty gross, right?”
“No, it was a woman.” Pressing the eraser end of her pencil to her chin, Kyomoto looked like she was recalling a fond memory. “She was… a little older than us. An assistant professor. She was… pretty.”
Swallowing her saliva, Fujino couldn't bear the idea that this nerd has seen more naked women than she has, a number which was currently at zero. She felt her ears heating up. “W-Well… show it to me. As your sensei. So I can check your work.” Wheeling herself over to her bed, she held her hand out. Kyomoto sat up, tucked her pencil behind an ear, then flipped through her sketchbook until she settled on a page. Turning the book around, she handed it over to Fujino, whose eyes roamed over the smooth pencil lines she missed seeing so dearly. “Damn! This oneesan has some nice titties!” Like a teenage boy, Fujino’s attention was immediately drawn to the model’s plump chest, which Kyomoto had lovingly recreated in pencil. She even drew the thin suggestion of a vein running down the supple flesh and truncating at the shaded areola. Damn, this is even better than hentai, Fujino thought, suddenly worried that her former assistant might find a new calling as a porn artist. Her eyes then traveled down the woman's flat stomach to where Kyomoto had drawn a dark patch of hair peeking between the closed thighs. Fujino cleared her throat. “Well, like usual, your shadows could use some work.”
“Ah… of course.” Looking grim, Kyomoto accepted her sketchbook back. Her dark eyes swept over the drawing like a crime scene investigator pouring over a murder victim’s body.
Ah, I just meant to bust her ass, Fujino thought, biting her lip, and now she’s all serious. Fujino clicked her tongue, then ran her hand through her messy, too-long hair. “Tell you what,” she said, as Kyomoto looked up at her, “since you came all this way to visit me, your ol’ sensei will help you out by letting you sketch me. Here, shove off.” Flapping her hand against Kyomoto’s hip, Fujino gently rolled her off the bed, then laid on her side in the recently-vacated space. Kyomoto’s body heat had pooled on top of the covers, warming Fujino up better than her apartment’s ultra-efficient heating system. Sitting down at the low table, Kyomoto placed her sketchbook on an open space between plastic bags and discarded meal containers, plucked her pencil out from where she stashed it above her ear, and began to draw. Just like before, she looked up every so often to glance at Fujino, but now, Fujino felt her ears grow hot every time they made eye contact. Exhaling a showy sigh of exasperation, she propped her head up with her hand and glanced around her apartment. She had only moved into this building because the apartment was expensive and therefore good, but the bare walls and plain furniture reminded her that she had spent all her time here working on manga. Only her work area showed any signs of habitation, being covered with papers while overflowing bookshelves stood guard like silent sentinels. Hell, besides her family members, Kyomoto was the only one who ever came over. The purring of her computer fans was the only sound in the room, besides their breathing. If she strained her ears, she could hear Kyomoto’s pencil scratching away, putting Fujino’s likeness onto paper. She could feel her face begin to grow warm from Kyomoto’s gaze lingering on her body like this, and although it was a welcome feeling to ward away the winter cold, her embarrassment won out and she jumped off from the bed. “Okay, time’s up! Let’s see what you’ve done!” Circling around the table, Fujino looked over Kyomoto’s shoulder. Her jaw went slack when she saw what Kyomoto had drawn. “Why am I naked?!”
“O-Oh, well, you were talking about drawing nudes, and, well…” With their cheeks almost touching, Kyomoto’s snicker was plainly audible, even over the sound of warm air rushing through the apartment’s registers as the heat kicked on. “It’s, you know, artistic license.”
Fujino pursed her lips, looking over Kyomoto’s perverted picture. It’s… actually pretty accurate, she thought. Especially the chest area. I know I’m not very big there, but it kinda hurts seeing it like this. Kyomoto had skillfully reproduced Fujino’s skinny, androgynous body, complete with the little marks where her ribs always show through the skin. It was made all the more impressive by the fact that Fujino was wearing a heavy sweater and long pants. The paper crinkled under her thumbs, and the noise told Fujino that she was unconsciously clenching her hands. She cleared her throat. “Did you memorize my body from the time we went to the pool together?”
Kyomoto said nothing, just kept her head down. She held out one hand like a beggar asking for a handout, and Fujino reverently placed the sketchbook back in her hand. “I-I cherish all the times we've spent together,” Kyomoto said, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. The way she was bent over like a rolled-over bug reminded Fujino of the old days, when Kyomoto would follow her around like a puppy and get all hunched up at the mere suggestion of social contact with anyone other than herself.
Scratching the back of her head, Fujino sighed. She was really far past due for a haircut, but finding the time to do so was an entirely different challenge to hitting a deadline. Personal grooming often took a back seat to drawing. “You must’ve really missed me, huh,” she said, trying to soften the tone of her voice. She sat down behind Kyomoto with her legs on either side of Kyomoto’s thighs. “Come on, baby, unclench. I can hear your bones creaking from here.”
Kyomoto leaned back, resting her weight against Fujino, her neck settling onto Fujino’s shoulder. Her face was close enough that Fujino could feel the heat rising from Kyomoto’s cheeks. Not satisfied with just sharing a bit of closeness, Fujino moved her own face a little bit until she could feel Kyomoto's hot breath on her lips, then closed her eyes and kissed her. Kyomoto's dry lips weren't exactly a plush pillow, but, to Fujino, nothing could feel more luxurious. Like usual, Kyomoto's movements were stilted and awkward, but Fujino herself was no expert on the subject anyway, loathe as she might be to admit it. She pulled away when she felt a bit of suction tugging at her lips, a telltale sign that Kyomoto was running out of breath. Opening her eyes, she watched Kyomoto's cheeks turn a shade of red that didn't exist in any palette. “That's… something that I can't experience at school,” Kyomoto said, gently touching her fingertips to her own lips.
Grinning, Fujino felt a sense of pride bubble up within her belly that she could still teach her old student something new. She hugged Kyomoto from behind. “Then, you'll have to come over more often for lessons!”