The thought of Copia bragging about strella to get a one up on V, only for V to then pick her for the portrait as a result is even funnier to me now
well let me run with this here... iknbs copella!!, kinda suggestive, 18+
"Fucking, V," Copia says, looking up from the couch in his new office where he has draped himself in a grumpy fit of annoyance. "He thinks that you would paint him, pah!"
"I mean, that's my job, baby."
He looks up, frowning. "He does not need a painting. For what, eh? You can't see his face anyway."
"He's–" You hesitate, knowing he does not like to be reminded. "He is Papa now, my love."
"And I am Frater Imperator. I should be painted!" He lifts his arms, waves them around high above his head. "Can you believe this, amore? I told him that my wife painted my portrait and how beautiful and talented she is. And what does he do? He tries to steal you! First my title and now this."
You can't help but laugh, dropping down on the cushion right where he is still moping. "You don't have to worry, Copia. I don't want V, it's just a job."
"It is how we started, amore. I do not trust this... this buffoon."
You place your head on his shoulder and for a while he just silently grumbles, staring at the ceiling, an arm loosely curled around your body. His now much more simple make up is a little smudged, as though he's been pressing his lips together in frustration all day.
"So..." you start, running your fingers over his belly, "you bragged about me to one-up him and now you're surprised that he wants me to paint him?"
"I didn't–" He opens his mouth, closes it again. "Ugh, I guess!"
Before you can reply he's already wrapped his arms around you, dragging you with him as he rolls over until he's on top of you, spread out on the couch. The sparkling brooch on his lapels dangles from his chest and when you look up he's narrowed his eyes, pins your arms above your head and grinds into your hips.
"Maybe I should remind you," he whispers, "whose side you‘re on, amore."
