Overlooking the details of her painting left unfinished, Ethan goes over them with a brush though he still lets Brit do most of the coloring. Brit’s head rests on his shoulder as she stands behind him. Her fingers played with the texture of his vest. “Did you ever paint, Ethan?” she asks while her fingers press in a light tickle-touch.“I was never too much into painting, Brit,” Ethan replied with a shake of his head. “No. Well. Unless you count actual house painting as ‘painting.’ Nothing too artistic, I am afraid.” With a look over his shoulder, he presses his lips to hers and whispers, “You are much better than me in it.”
Brit blinked in surprise, “But…you had no time at all to help paint while we fixed up the shelter.” Ethan grinned impishly at her and her eyes widened which caused her eyes to blink more. “Perhaps we can find your skill when we need to repaint!” she exclaimed with a glance to the walls. The walls looked like they could already use a fresh coat of paint.
Shaking his head, Ethan replied, “It has been many a year since I last had to do that. And I am not so inclined to do that anytime soon. The paint..the way it splatters.” Raising his shoulders a bit, Ethan shrugged, “Definitely not my past time of choice. This is far more acceptable,” he murmured while watching her brush stroke a bit of color from the palate he was holding to the canvas.
Brit nodded in agreement and continued to paint the section she had been working on silently. A bit of shouting could be heard outside, but nothing caused Ethan concern. While he focused on the environmental noise for a moment, Brit selected a clean, new brush. Her fingers neared the palate, but she brushed it instead over the back of his hand. The dry sable bristles drug softly over his skin. Looking down to his hand, he flexed his fingers neither pressing against the brush nor moving his hand away. “Do you like the feeling of the brush against your own skin, Brit?”
“I don’t know,” answered Brit after a moment of musing. She pushed her glove down to expose her skin, then focused to trace the light bluish vein under her skin from her wrist to her elbow. Smiling, she peeked up to him as she continued to drag the brush. “It tickles a bit, but,” she whispered, “it is pleasing enough.”
Setting down the used brush in a glass, Ethan selected a fresh, dry brush waiting in a jar. He made sure that his brush was thicker than hers and started to trace up her exposed skin with it. “Tickly is a pleasant feeling,” he repeated and saw his words confirmed in her expression. Brit held very still and giggled feeling the bristles drag over her skin. Leaning to one side, she placed her brush at his earlobe and traced the outer ridge of his ear before dragging the brush down the side of his neck.
Ethan stretched under the brush’s touch and tilted his head to the side. “That yields an interesting feeling, princess. Rather different compared to skin touching skin.” His eyes widened with realization that his skin prickled in response to the tickly touch. “Yes, yes,” he said softly, “it is rather tickly.” Brit smiled at his word “interesting” and continued to play with her brush by dragging it over his skin. She pulled it over the back of his neck and followed with a soft, moist kiss with an open mouth on the curve where his neck joins his body.
A soft moan caused Brit to pause to look at him. Ethan looked the painting up and down before saying, “Maybe we could continue with the painting a bit later and go make ourselves comfortable on the couch to experiment a bit with just brushes.” Placing the palate aside, he directed Brit to the chair not waiting for a response. Ethan really was not asking anyway as his wife’s attention has strayed from the painting.
Brit had started to blow on the wetness her kiss left on his skin and stopped to put away her easel. “That would be more fun than fencing, I think.”
Ethan turned to face her, “What does fencing have to do with anything?” His brow furrowed as he watched her. With a hint of disappointment, he said, “You do not enjoy our fencing lessons too much it seems.” With a soft sigh, Ethan moved to the sofa and sat before motioning her to him. Brit joined him and he selected a spot to drag the brush over her exposed skin having an easier time with her facing him.
Brit watched silently for a moment as she pouted sensing his disappointment. “There are parts of fencing that I like way lots.” He peeked up at her like a schoolboy while brushing bristles against her inner elbow. She stretched her arm to feel the touches almost involuntarily. “Like..when you drug your epee over my body, like a finger, slowly,” she continued with her cheeks pinkening at the memory. Glancing toward him, she found herself caught in his gaze. Smiling shyly, she touched his chest and continued, “And when we fence together, I like that way lots too.” Nodding, she processed to be sure she was correct in her words to him. “It’s like dancing then. But last time, we spent the entire night rotating my wrist and ended up with no time for even one date!” Brit looked shocked that anything could be more important than dating!
Ethan flashed a toothy grin and nodded, “Ah, I see.” So I must ensure that I include epee dragging and dating in our night to make fencing more attractive with the less solo theory.” He shook his head slightly in amusement over her comments as he finds his way up over the swell of her breasts to her throat, then to the side of her neck with the tip of the brush.
Brit nodded affirmatively before losing her thoughts to the feel of the brush. Closing her eyes, she moved to expose her skin. The sensations of the brush caused her heartbeat to quicken and produced a slightly harder throbbing along the length of her aorta. “Oh, yes please,” came the eventual response.
“As you wish then,” Ethan said with a nod of understanding. His lips parted watching her. “I will try to add more actual fencing time and only correct your mistakes when you do them, like the positioning and stance.” He could feel her mood lift regarding fencing. “From what I understand, dating is to become a permanent part of our fencing lessons then. Tis just as well regardless whether we involve the epee in it or not.” He grinned mischievously while finding her pulse with the tip of the brush and circling around the throbbing part of her skin.
His words and promise increased her heartbeat. “Yes,” she whispered stretching under the bristles of the brush. Her warm body felt slightly chilled on the surface, but was warm beneath her skin and where his body insulated hers by touching. Under her skin, a map of blue veins pulsed promising dark crimson should the skin break. Shifting on his lap, her head lay against his shoulder allowing him to touch, trace, and watch as he wishes while she felt completely at ease with the world.
Ethan settled back into the couch to gain more support as she relaxed against him. He took his time to follow the paths of her veins and arteries that were visible under her pale skin and wondered if she was always so pale. This was how he remembered her, but was it truly so?” Dreamily, he whispered, “I do enjoy our fencing time.” The brush danced over her skin in a specific pattern.
Splaying in his arms and feeling the soft bristles drag over her exposed skin, Brit replied breathily, “I enjoy fencing..when we fence together. And our dancing…and dating…that is nice too.” Readjusting a bit, she let him fully support her body weight and enjoyed the brush dragging over her skin. With a soft whisper, she said, “I like this…”
Looking directly at her, Ethan asked, “Do you now?” He leaned to her to place a soft kiss on her lips as he brought the tip of the brush to her temple down over her cheek then over the lower lip when he broke his kiss. Lower, the brush was drug down her chin and lower to her décolleté as far as he could reach with the brush. Looking up to her again, he grinned a bit impishly as he whispered, “I like this too.”
Lying beneath his brush, Brit returned his kiss. Her gloved fingers caressed his skin and hair. Her lashes on her cheeks resembled sooty fans against her white porcelain skin. As the brush traced her lips, they parted and moisture from her mouth smeared lightly below her bottom lip. As the brush swept beween her breasts, she squirmed ever so slightly even as the moon’s soft light casted shadows on her skin from the brush like a dark finger. “I do like this,” came her soft confession.
Ethan leaned closer again kissing her deeply. Setting the brush aside, he pulled her closer to him deepening the kiss and wrapped his arms around her in a more demanding than protective way. With none near, his hands drug over her body boldly. “Your skin is an amazing canvas. Even with only paint imaginary patterns on it, Brit.” He kissed her again grappling her to him. If one could have looked closely, the last thing he traced on her skin would form the word “mine” before he stood to carry her back to their resting place.
