No excuses writing meme - POV - the manhandling from Sven's perspective 😘
POV
Under the cut <3
“I need you to sit still.” Till said without taking his eyes off the canvas.
Easy for him to say. He was able to move, and not wearing this fucking doublet. A Bronze Bull would have been more comfortable. Regardless, Sven tried his best to remain still for a few minutes at least. Knowing he couldn’t move made him need to fidget all the more.
“Please don’t move.” Till was obviously growing more frustrated.
Once more, Sven tried to obey Till’s instructions, but the ornate torture device was making that rather difficult. There was a seam the ran right down his spine that caused his linen undershirt to rub against the scar tissue in such a way that it felt like he was laying on broken glass.
Sven wished that Till would talk to him. It didn’t matter about what. He just needed something to distract him. Not that he could blame Till for refusing to do so. Sven would have been rather annoyed if some rich brat had wasted his time as well.
He really was trying, but that damn seam. If he could adjust himself just enough to get it off of that one spot, and…there! Finally.
The sound of Till’s paintbrush coming into contact with the wooden canvas stand of the easel put an end to his relief. Till was coming towards him. Before Sven knew what was happening, the painter’s large hands were on his shoulders, jerking him back into place. Then there was a hand on his chin, and his head was moved as well.
“Don’t. Move.” Till’s green eyes were ablaze, and the hand holding him in place ensured that he could do little other than stare into them.
Where on Earth did this Till come from? Was this really the same man whose anxiety could be smelled from a mile away? It was so jarring that Sven couldn’t speak.
And then, he saw Till’s anger fade--replaced by a look of horror and regret. The hands flew off Sven’s body. He heard Till mutter what sounded like “I’m sorry.” and watched as he hurried back to his seat.
A few minutes passed and Till had still not resumed painting. Neither of them had said anything, until the painter finally looked back up at him.
“Do you…Do you think that I could step out for a moment?” Sven asked, fully aware of the death grip he had on the hem of his doublet. Till nodded, and Sven wasted no time getting the fuck out of there.
He made his way down the hall at a brisk pace until he happened upon a place to duck into: an empty spare bedroom. Quickly, he locked the door behind him and leaned against the wall. The last thing he needed was someone walking in on him mid freak out.
Sven breathed heavily as his hands moved to touch his shoulders. He could still feel where Till had grabbed him. It had been…terrifying? No that wasn’t right. Shocking? Closer, but still no. Exciting? Yeah…exciting.
He looked down and noticed his body apparently was having another reaction to being manhandled. Fantastic. This was the last thing he needed right now.
Sven sighed. It was a shame. He liked Till. He really did. It hadn’t been enjoyable to treat him as poorly as he had been, but Till needed to go before Sven did something stupid. Again.
First things first. His hands left his shoulders, and he quickly unlaced his breeches. He couldn’t exactly go back like this, now could he?
Both are under the cut if anyone wants to avoid possible spoilers<3
What If?
“May I see what you have so far?”
Paul shrugged. He didn’t see why not considering that Sven’s stepfather was his client. He opened up the sketchbook to show Sven what he had done.
The look on Sven’s face was unreadable as Paul flipped through the pages. Paul’s brow furrowed a bit while he tried to figure out just what Sven was thinking.
“That looks nothing like me.”
Fucking shithead. Paul sighed, and nodded. “I know, but you mentioned that your fiancee wouldn’t want to marry you if she thought you were ugly. So I had to take some artistic liberties.”
Sven’s mouth hung open. “Y-you can’t talk to me like that.”
Paul shrugged flippantly. “And you can’t paint. That’s why I’m here. If you hate what I’ve done so badly, I can fix them and make you look more constipated.”
Sven’s brow formed a deep frown and mouth dropped even lower. He was stunned speechless.
Paul smiled impishly as Sven stormed out. He knew that either he would be fired, or Sven wouldn’t give him any more problems. Either way, totally worth it.
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POV
Sven viewed the scene of Adam and Eve. It was gorgeous like the rest of the artwork in the cathedral, but it didn’t quite speak to him like Till’s work had. Not to mention that there was something eerily familiar about Eve, and Sven couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. She did sort of look like Mary from the pieta on the altarpiece, but that wasn’t it.
“But fuck me I’m having to the paint the goddamned Anti-Christ!” Till’s growl echoed throughout the church, and it sent a child down Sven’s spine. Till was talking about him. Of course he was. After all, who else was he painting that fit such a description?
He couldn’t stay in here. He needed to be…somewhere else. It didn’t matter where. Just not here--or home.
His body felt so cold, and the warmth of the Sun seemed to mock him when he stepped out of the cathedral.
Sven kept walking to nowhere in particular as he lost himself in his thoughts. Till’s words hurt even though Sven knew that he had no right to feel such a way. He had been so monstrous towards him, of course Till hated him. So why hadn’t he quit yet? Why was he still here? Had Sven’s behavior truly been all for nothing? The thought killed him.
