Thread by @cicerfics

Absolutely obsessed with the idea of LWJ as a nude model for art classes.

https://twitter.com/yuyu_finale/status/1364969134811983872

Anyone who knows him would be SHOOK to find out he does this as a side-gig. Because he doesn't seem like the type?

But it's actually very impersonal! He's nothing more than a collection of muscles and sinews, shapes and angles, to these artists. It's not erotic or weird at all.

And they love him at the studio! Because:

1) He's drop-dead gorgeous

and

2) He can hold still for literally hours

He's an absolutely stellar live model.

So he just goes into the studio a couple times a month.

Takes off his clothes.

Sits or lies down on whatever piece of furniture they've prepared for him.

And zones out for an hour or two.

He gets paid $20/hr, which is respectable money for a grad student. It buys his bunnies organic pet food and treats! So he's happy, and never feels even a shred of discomfort.

Until the day he walks into the studio and WHOOPS, an extremely beautiful man is setting up his easel.

So anyway, WWX. He's been in the art program for years. He's done lots of classes and workshops with live models before.

Sometimes he tells anyone about his studies and they go, "OhohoHO, do you get to draw NAKED people?"

WWX just rolls his eyes.

It's art, you dingus! He's not leching over these people, and he's not even attracted to most of them! He's not leering at their nipples or butts. 🙄

He's just trying to get the shading right. He's trying to capture the exact angle of their hipbones. He's trying to figure out the right tints of paint for their hair color.

It's not erotic or sexy in the slightest. WWX is deeply contemptuous of anyone who suggests otherwise.

....Right up until the day he's in the studio, preparing to sketch some nudes.

And in walks the most OBSCENELY GORGEOUS man WWX has ever seen in his entire twenty-four years on this planet.

Right away, WWX starts sweating.

He hasn't had any problem with previous models. The were all beautiful humans in their own right, of course. But they didn't evoke any kind of lust in WWX. It was easy for him to just view them as a collection of body parts.

But OH NO, this guy is EXACTLY WWX's type.

But he's not going to flub this, obviously. He's not going to be WEIRD about this. He's not a CREEP.

He's a professional artist (okay, an ASPIRING professional) so he's gonna act like it!

And if WWX's hands are shaking a little bit as he finishes setting up his easel, well.

Mind your own business.

Anyway, the World's Most Beautiful Man disappears into that little curtained area where the models get naked.

The professor says something about what they're supposed to be working on today, and WWX totally does not hear her.

But he nods along with the other students.

WWX tries really, really hard not to look at the World's Most Beautiful Man when he comes back out.

But that plan doesn't really work out. He has to look at the guy. He has to DRAW the guy. So WWX shuffles around his charcoals and his sketchbooks. He buys himself a little time.

Then, eventually, he has to look. He has to start working. The professor is going to start circling the room soon, checking up on everyone's progress. So WWX has to get started.

He decides to start with the guy's foot.

Is that an ideal place to start?

NO. He should start blocking out the head and torso first.

But he absolutely cannot look at the guy's face or bare chest. He can't look and see if they guy is FULLY nude, or wearing a flesh-colored thong, the way some models do.

He's gonna start with a foot. Feet are safe.

WWX has never been into feet in his entire life. He's not gonna get weird about drawing a foot. And if the professor asks, he can just say that he thinks he needs practice drawing feet.

There. That's a good, sensible, safe plan.

So he works on the guy's foot.

It's a great foot. It's...kind of a BIG foot.

When WWX sneaks a peek, he discovers that the guy's hands are. Proportionately large.

Which is. Fine. Normal. Anatomically accurate.

Except now WWX is thinking about, you know. What they say about guys with big feet and hands.

About how their OTHER BODY PARTS are, allegedly, also large.

And WWX really, really wants to look! Just to confirm whether or not that saying is true!

But that's CREEPY.

That is gross and lecherous and very uncool! This guy consented to be a model for artists. He did not consent to be a target for WWX's suddenly raging libido!

So WWX focuses on drawing feet and hands, and thinks his horny little thoughts. It's not ideal, but it's working out.

(...Ugh, wait, I have to go run an errand. 😭 I WILL BE BACK.)

So WWX sits there. Diligently drawing feet.

Slowly developing a foot-fetish, because the guy is truly THAT HOT, and every single part of his body is awakening something in WWX.

The professor gives him a funny look, when she circles around to check his work.

WWX knows what's up.

When the school goes to the trouble of hiring a nude model, students usually take advantage of that. They draw buttocks and hips and bare chests.

That's literally the POINT of paying a model who's willing to take off their clothes.

Students usually don't sit there, like a doofus, drawing hands and feet.

But she doesn't say anything, and she just moves onto the next student's work after a few minutes.

WWX is sweating. Pouring sweat. Wiping his forehead every fifteen seconds.

They always keep the room warm when there's a nude model. You know, for the model's comfort. So it's usually warm in the studio, and it usually doesn't bother WWX.

But he feels like he's about to have a heat-stroke.

After a while, he finishes the guy's feet. On autopilot, he moves onto drawing the ankles and calves.

HUGE MISTAKE. HUGE. CATASTROPHIC.

The guy has very nice legs! Runner's legs! Very sculpted and firm and glorious!

Also, this guy shaves! Or waxes!

He appears (WWX has not worked up the nerve to look at any other body parts, so he can't confirm) to shave or wax EVERYTHING.

WWX takes a thirty-second break to gulp down every last drop in his water bottle. He is thirsty in more ways than one.

And he accidentally looks at the guy's thighs, which is a knockout hit. Now WWX can't think of anything except having those smooth, muscular legs wrapped around every part of his body.

His waist.

His chest.

His NECK, if the guy is into that sort of thing.

WWX is willing to be suffocated by those thighs, if that is an option that's on the table!

So he's dying. He's almost dead. He's not going to make it out of this studio alive.

How's LWJ doing, by the way?

Usually, sitting for artists is just fine.

He zones out. He drafts his grocery shopping list and outlines his next essay for his music theory class. He decides whether he's going to clean the bunny cages tonight or tomorrow morning.

He doesn't even notice (or care) about the artists. They don't really exist to him.

But there is a Very Beautiful Man in the class today. He is exceptionally handsome and he has a very expressive face.

For the first time in his life, LWJ wishes that he possessed some artistic ability of his own. It must be...very satisfying to draw a face like that.

Also, it would give LWJ an excuse to stare further at this man. He doesn't have an excuse now.

The models are not supposed to stare at the artists. That's...strange. And it's probably very distracting for the artists, who are trying to focus on their work.

So LWJ tries not to look. But he can't help sneaking a few peeks from the corner of his eye.

The artist has a habit of chewing on his lip. He taps his pencil against his chin, and then uses it to scratch his cheek. Then he chews on the end, and his tongue is visible, and LWJ has to look away.

He knows, theoretically, that models sometimes...become aroused during the sitting.

The head of the art department discussed that with him, during his orientation meeting. She said it simply happened sometimes, a natural physical reaction, nothing to be embarrassed about.

She assured him that, if it occurred to him, he need not cover himself. The students were professionals, and they would not remark upon it or react in anyway.

LWJ had nodded, but he hadn't expected that such a thing would ever be an issue.

And it hasn't been.

Except as he looks at this particular artist, and as he thinks about this artist looking at HIM...

LWJ thinks that there might. Be a problem. If this continues.

So he looks away, and stares fixedly out the window. He tries to think of very unappealing things.

The wild rabbit he saw last week. The one lying on the side of the road, after what appeared to be a fatal collision with a car.

Highly upsetting.

That time he accidentally saw his uncle naked, when he was twelve.

Also highly upsetting.

LWJ thinks very, very hard about those things. And slowly, painstakingly, he manages to convince his body that now is not the correct time to take an interest in ANYTHING.

He white-knuckles his way through the rest of the class.

At last, the professor tells the students to begin packing up their things. She tells LWJ that he is excused, and LWJ flees into the small makeshift dressing room.

He zips himself into his jeans and drags on a heavy sweater, in spite of the fact that the room is quite warm.

Once his Important Areas are covered by three layers of fabric, he feels much more secure. Much less likely to embarrass himself. So he picks up his bag and returns to the studio.

He is allowed to circle the room and look at the artists' work. They told him that, too, during orientation. He can remain for a few minutes after the class ends. He can speak to the artists, if he likes, and he can look at their work.

LWJ has never done that before. He always leaves immediately after the class ends.

He never bothers to look at anyone's work, because it doesn't seem important. Their work has nothing to do with him, not really. His body is nothing more than a potted plant or a bowl of fruit.

It's only something for the artists to practice drawing, and he doesn't particularly care whether they draw him well or badly.

But he finds himself lingering in the studio today. He looks, very casually, at two easels.

Then, when he's done pretending to be interested in other people's work, he angles himself slowly toward THAT artist.

The one with the long hair, and the red shirt, and the handsome face. The one with a streak of charcoal on his cheek, and a habit of nibbling on his pencils.

He seems to be in a hurry to pack up his things and leave. He probably has another class, and that means that LWJ shouldn't detain him. But LWJ edges toward him anyway.

LWJ usually doesn't care about the artists' work. But he does want to see this particular artist's sketches. Just a quick look. Just to see himself through this man's eyes.

So he slips over, and he seems to catch the artist off guard.

The man is hurrying to gather up his supplies. When LWJ appears, he drops his pencil case. Pencils scatter everywhere.

They look expensive. LWJ has a dim understanding that artists' supplies are often very expensive. He overhears the students complaining about that, anyway.

So he stoops and helps the man collect his things. It's only polite.

And when they've gathered up all the stray pencils and replaced them in the case, LWJ says, "May I see your work?"

Strangely, the man goes red.

"Oh," he stammers. "Um. I'm not very good!"

LWJ blinks.

It's a strange thing to say. He knows that this class is for advanced students, the ones pursuing a master's degree in various visual arts.

It simply isn't possible that this man 'isn't good' at drawing. If he wasn't good, then he wouldn't qualify for enrollment in this class.

Maybe, LWJ thinks, the man is trying to find a polite way to refuse. Maybe he's in a hurry, and he doesn't want LWJ delaying him.

"If you have another class," he says, hesitantly, "I don't wish to make you late."

"No," the man blurts out. "No, I don't have anymore classes today!"

Then he looks annoyed with himself, as if he hadn't intended to say that.

LWJ doesn't quite know how to respond to that. So he just stands there in awkward silence, as the man fidgets.

He's really...very beautiful. But not very good at staying still. LWJ noticed that while he was posing. If the man could only stay still, he'd make an ideal model.

The art department certainly wouldn't need LWJ, if someone like THIS was available.

But LWJ is very good at staying still. This man isn't, so it would probably be very difficult to draw him.

Still, LWJ wishes that he could. He wishes that he knew how to draw people.

He wishes that he knew how to capture this particular face, render it with charcoal and paper.

He doesn't, though. And the man continues to fidget.

But after a minute, he steps away from his easel.

The man forces an uncomfortable laugh.

"Okay!" he says. "You can look. But it's really boring, and it probably looks very amateurish. So just...keep your expectations low, okay?"

LWJ nods politely.

He doesn't know anything about drawing, not really. The graduate students' work always looks very professional to him. It certainly much better than anything he could do.

And sure enough, the man's work is...very good.

He appears to have mostly focused on drawing LWJ's hands and feet. LWJ feels strangely, absurdly disappointed by that.

But he understands that hands and feet are difficult to draw. There are many small bones and joints.

So perhaps that was what this particular man wanted to practice.

And he did a good job, certainly. These are definitely LWJ's hands and feet.

The man captured the shape of his fingers, the small scar on his left ankle. These are clearly, recognizably LWJ's body parts.

"It's very good," LWJ tells him.

The man looks flustered and closes up his sketchbook.

"Oh, well." He laughs, more sincerely this time. His eyes crinkle. "You're a good model!"

"You're so good at staying still! I try to draw my roommates sometimes. Just for practice, you know! But they always get restless after a few minutes, so they're pretty useless!"

The man speaks with great fondness, though, as if his roommates are good friends.

LWJ feels an absurd pulse of jealousy. An absurd desire to make this man speak of HIM with equal fondness.

And perhaps it's that jealousy that leads him to ask, "Where do you live?"

The man blinks.

"The grad student housing on West Street. The building across the street from the fire station?"

LWJ knows that building perfectly well. He passes it every single day on his way to the campus. He nods with satisfaction.

"I live two blocks away," he says.

The man blinks.

"The dark gray building next to the park," he adds.

"Oh! Cool. We're neighbors then, I guess!"

He slips his pencil case into a battered messenger bag and tucks his sketchbook under an arm. He smiles at LWJ, but he doesn't seem to realize what LWJ is implying.

LWJ tries to scrounge up a proper reply.

"I am available on Sunday and Wednesday afternoons," he says, finally.

"If you ever need a model for practice."

The man blinks furiously. His lips part, and LWJ wants to reach out and touch them.

He doesn't, of course. He's already making a fool out of himself, in all likelihood. There's no need to add assault charges to the situation.

"Oh!" the man stutters. "Oh! Wow, that's really nice. I didn't know you did private work!"

LWJ doesn't. Until this moment, he never even considered such a thing. He works exclusively through the university, exclusively in classes supervised by a tenured professor.

It never even occurred to him to do this work elsewhere, perhaps in someone's private home or apartment. That seems very unwise, very unsafe. The sort of thing his family would not approve of at all.

His uncle wouldn't approve in any event, and that's why he doesn't know.

His brother is a painter himself, so he doesn't think it's improper for LWJ to do this sort of modeling.

But LWJ feels sure that his brother only approves because this modeling takes place on campus, in a classroom or studio, under supervision.

Surely he wouldn't like for LWJ to go to a stranger's apartment and take off his clothes there.

But for the first time in his life, the first time in nearly a quarter-century of existence, LWJ sees the appeal of that sort of thing.

Going to a stranger's home and taking off his clothes sounds...very enjoyable, actually.

But the man only smiles ruefully.

"I wish I could hire you!" he says. "But I'm a broke art student."

"Unless you accept squashed granola bars and broken pencils, or whatever else is hiding in here," he pats his messenger bag, "then I don't think I could afford your hourly fee."

LWJ frowns.

He doesn't know how to do this. How to...initiate things.

But his brother has told him that if he likes someone, he should invite them for coffee. Or hint that the person in question should invite HIM for coffee.

LWJ senses that there is an art to this sort of thing, too. But he doesn't know how it's done. And so, mentally, he shrugs his shoulders and sets his jaw.

"You could buy me a coffee," he says.

The man stares at him for a terrifyingly long time. It's long enough for LWJ to develop crushing doubts about his recent behavior.

Maybe this is very improper. Maybe he is not meant to make this sort of offer to the art students.

Of course he isn't! This is a job, like any other. It isn't appropriate to...flirt with coworkers or clients. Or anyone else in the work place.

LWJ is about to apologize and slink away with his tail between his legs.

He is about to go directly to the art department chairperson and remove his name from the list of available models.

But then the man starts to laugh.

He catches at LWJ's arm before he can make a run for the door.

"You..." he gasps.

Then his grip tightens on LWJ's arm. He shakes LWJ.

"Tell me your name! I've been calling you The World's Most Beautiful Man in my head, but that doesn't seem right!"

He's laughing so hard, there are tears in his eyes. His smile is blinding, and it's enough to turn LWJ's knees to jelly.

"It's true!" the man adds. "You are! But tell me your real name anyway."

LWJ doesn't even think of offering his courtesy name.

"Lan Zhan," he blurts out.

The man grins.

"Lan Zhan. I'm Wei Ying!"

LWJ feels as if they ought to shake hands, but he can't make his body obey his commands. Anyway, Wei Ying still has a hand on his shoulder, and that seems...entirely sufficient.

Wei Ying scrubs the other hand over his face.

"Lan Zhan," he says. "If I'm misreading this, please don't be mad at me! I mean, you can be MAD. But please don't report me to the university and have me expelled for hitting on the model. Okay?"

"Yes," LWJ says dumbly, after an awkward pause.

He has never felt more awkward in his entire life, and he doesn't know why he thought this was a good idea. He doesn't know why he thought it was acceptable to ask Wei Ying where he lives, or offer to model for him privately.

His brother didn't warn him about this, LWJ thinks resentfully.

His brother didn't say that this process, the process of trying to demonstrate interest in a date, was so painfully awkward. That was very unkind and unfair of him.

But Wei Ying doesn't seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. His shoulders have relaxed, and there's a gleam in his eyes.

"Lan Zhan!" he says. "Help me understand! Are you just taking pity on a poor, impoverished artist? Are you offering to model for me if I buy you a latte?"

He sways in.

"Or! Are you offering to go with me and get a coffee, just for fun? Like, as a date?"

LWJ considers that question seriously.

"Either," he admits. "If you are interested."

Wei Ying buries his face in his hands.

"'If I'm interested', he says."

Wei Ying shakes his head somberly, as if LWJ is the most absurd person he's ever had the misfortune of meeting.

But he latches onto LWJ's sleeve and starts towing him toward the exit.

"Come on! You don't have anything scheduled right now, do you? If you do, I'm going to have to insist that you cancel! The World's Most Beautiful Man can't ask me out and then make me WAIT for our date! It's too mean."

As it happens, LWJ does not have anything scheduled. And if he did, he WOULD cancel.

As it happens, Wei Ying is incorrect if he thinks he's secured a date with the World's Most Beautiful Man.

As it happens, it is LWJ who has done that.

So he lets Wei Ying tow him toward the elevator and across the quad to the university coffee shop.

Halfway there, Wei Ying looks him up and down. He grins.

"You know, I don't usually get to see anybody naked until WAY after the first date!"

He stretches luxuriously.

"Today's must be my lucky day! Right?"

He gives LWJ another blinding smile.

LWJ shifts subtly. Just enough so that Wei Ying's hand slips from his sleeve, and settles into LWJ's.

"Wrong," LWJ says. "It is mine."

♥️ THE END ♥️

OMAKE #1

So wangxian get together, and they start dating. And that means they have to answer a lot of questions. Like, "So, how did the two of you meet?"

LWJ privately confesses that he'd rather not tell people the truth, in case it gets back to his uncle.

WWX is like, "I GOT U, BB. Say no more!"

So he just makes up increasingly outlandish meet-cute stories.

"Well, I was on the run from the police after I...well, I can't tell you what I did. Not until the statute of limitations expires!"

"So I was fleeing the cops, and I jumped into Lan Zhan's car and screamed, 'Drive!' And we ran away together to this secret hideout he knows about, and THEN..."

Spoiler alert: These stories leave LQR with an even worse impression of WWX. 😬

OMAKE #2

So LQR is not WWX's biggest fan! But his nephew does end up marrying this boy. And after a while, LQR decides it's time to mend his fences.

In the meantime, WWX has become a super famous artist! He has all kinds of gallery showings and whatnot!

Spoiler alert: WWX does a lot of drawing and paintings of his husband's magnificent butt.

LWJ's booty is his ~*~muse~*~! WWX never fails to be inspired by his husband's glorious naked body!

And there's one upcoming showing that includes a lot of nudes-of-my-husband art.

And naturally, that's the one LQR settles on as a 'time to mend our fences' thing.

LQR: Wangji. I have been thinking. Suppose your great-aunts and great-uncles and I attend your husband's latest showing. As a sign of support. Would you like that?

LWJ:

LWJ: ...Unfortunately, Uncle, that showing was...cancelled.

LQR: Oh?! Why?

LWJ: The gallery owner was indicted for...tax fraud. He's fled the country and the gallery has closed down altogether.