The art festival they were at was startlingly fun.
The assault of color on every front was just this side of uncomfortably overwhelming and it was so hot that both Akira and Ann had stripped to their undershirts, grit and white fabric sticking to sweat and the air so thick that the inside of his mouth felt cool, but the aesthetics of the displays definitely made up for it.
(Ann was obviously in heaven, too—the meeting of culture and fun had her tickled pink—and Akira would put up with a lot more than this to hear her laugh like that.)
From admiring the sculptures to marveling at the graffiti tunnel, they'd canvassed about half the festival before they found it.
Draw it yourself!!! read a blackboard next to a stack of sidewalk chalk buckets, the ground beyond it covered in scribbles much less skilled than the sprawling landscapes of chalk art that had popped up around the festival in forgotten corners and alleys that led nowhere.
"Oh man, this looks like fun. C'mon, Akira!"
Yusuke and Shiho were right—Ann was terrible at art. Adorably inept. Charmingly horrific.
Was that a flower, a bumblebee, or a slice of cake? It looked like none of them, but those were his best guesses judging by her expression.
He doodled his way through the team's masks himself, and he was just finishing up Noir's when Ann decided that her abomination was complete.
"Well?" she asked, standing in a smooth gesture that drew the eye to her miniskirt-clad backside and swatting the chalk off on her bare thighs. "What do you think?"
She'd left fingerprints on her thighs in exactly the same place that his own hands had been a few days ago, pink-and-white smears where he'd struggled not to leave bruises as she teased him into oblivion, and mostly he was thinking about how much he wanted to line his hands up with that perfect guideline and pull her against him again.
With effort, he dragged his attention back to chalk and concrete before that quiet tingling in his groin could get any worse. "What is it?"
"It's a piece of cake! Or... at least it's supposed to be."
There was a bead of sweat rolling from her collarbone to her cleavage, her wincing smile glowed in the sunlight and her cheeks were flushed in the heat, her thin white shirt turned translucent, and Akira vaguely acknowledged that he'd called it.
"It's pretty bad," he said, because it was true, and also because it was about as far as he could get from asking her to sit on his face so he could test which was hotter—her sex or the weather. That skirt was doing her a few too many favors.
She giggled, then sighed. "Well, you're right about that. Drawing a piece of cake definitely wasn't a piece of cake."
"Call it impressionistic," he offered, taking in the disconcerting tangle of lines and not the way her white skirt fluttered against her marked thighs.
"That works," she decided cheerfully, then leaned over his shoulder, pressing one deliciously soft breast against his back. "Those are cool, Joker!"
That touch and her voice and the smell of her sweat were teaming up to make this summer both vastly hotter and vastly more embarrassing.
He jerked away and mourned the loss immediately. "...Thanks."
"Everything okay?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, a wonderful reminder of just how close she was.
"Let's get refreshments," he blurted, squirming sideways and standing up. It was probably the closest thing to a cold shower he was going to get here.
Maybe slushies, or snow cones, or popsicles—not ice cream. Ice cream could be... dangerous.
"Huh? O-okay."
It took about fifteen minutes of Ann walking around with those handprints on her thighs and her shirt sticking to her stomach for Akira to give in and drag her into an art-supply-filthy unisex bathroom to wipe them away himself, and another five before her panties were dangling from his fingers and her legs were clamped around his hips and testing proved that while the weather was hotter than her sex at first, it didn't take a whole lot to change that.
(It was only as they were about to leave that they found out that a splash zone had been set up for festival goers to cool off.)
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branchandroot
Sidewalk Chalk; Akirann; M; .7k
Date: 2020-03-12 01:22 am (UTC)The art festival they were at was startlingly fun.
The assault of color on every front was just this side of uncomfortably overwhelming and it was so hot that both Akira and Ann had stripped to their undershirts, grit and white fabric sticking to sweat and the air so thick that the inside of his mouth felt cool, but the aesthetics of the displays definitely made up for it.
(Ann was obviously in heaven, too—the meeting of culture and fun had her tickled pink—and Akira would put up with a lot more than this to hear her laugh like that.)
From admiring the sculptures to marveling at the graffiti tunnel, they'd canvassed about half the festival before they found it.
Draw it yourself!!! read a blackboard next to a stack of sidewalk chalk buckets, the ground beyond it covered in scribbles much less skilled than the sprawling landscapes of chalk art that had popped up around the festival in forgotten corners and alleys that led nowhere.
"Oh man, this looks like fun. C'mon, Akira!"
Yusuke and Shiho were right—Ann was terrible at art. Adorably inept. Charmingly horrific.
Was that a flower, a bumblebee, or a slice of cake? It looked like none of them, but those were his best guesses judging by her expression.
He doodled his way through the team's masks himself, and he was just finishing up Noir's when Ann decided that her abomination was complete.
"Well?" she asked, standing in a smooth gesture that drew the eye to her miniskirt-clad backside and swatting the chalk off on her bare thighs. "What do you think?"
She'd left fingerprints on her thighs in exactly the same place that his own hands had been a few days ago, pink-and-white smears where he'd struggled not to leave bruises as she teased him into oblivion, and mostly he was thinking about how much he wanted to line his hands up with that perfect guideline and pull her against him again.
With effort, he dragged his attention back to chalk and concrete before that quiet tingling in his groin could get any worse. "What is it?"
"It's a piece of cake! Or... at least it's supposed to be."
There was a bead of sweat rolling from her collarbone to her cleavage, her wincing smile glowed in the sunlight and her cheeks were flushed in the heat, her thin white shirt turned translucent, and Akira vaguely acknowledged that he'd called it.
"It's pretty bad," he said, because it was true, and also because it was about as far as he could get from asking her to sit on his face so he could test which was hotter—her sex or the weather. That skirt was doing her a few too many favors.
She giggled, then sighed. "Well, you're right about that. Drawing a piece of cake definitely wasn't a piece of cake."
"Call it impressionistic," he offered, taking in the disconcerting tangle of lines and not the way her white skirt fluttered against her marked thighs.
"That works," she decided cheerfully, then leaned over his shoulder, pressing one deliciously soft breast against his back. "Those are cool, Joker!"
That touch and her voice and the smell of her sweat were teaming up to make this summer both vastly hotter and vastly more embarrassing.
He jerked away and mourned the loss immediately. "...Thanks."
"Everything okay?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, a wonderful reminder of just how close she was.
"Let's get refreshments," he blurted, squirming sideways and standing up. It was probably the closest thing to a cold shower he was going to get here.
Maybe slushies, or snow cones, or popsicles—not ice cream. Ice cream could be... dangerous.
"Huh? O-okay."
It took about fifteen minutes of Ann walking around with those handprints on her thighs and her shirt sticking to her stomach for Akira to give in and drag her into an art-supply-filthy unisex bathroom to wipe them away himself, and another five before her panties were dangling from his fingers and her legs were clamped around his hips and testing proved that while the weather was hotter than her sex at first, it didn't take a whole lot to change that.
(It was only as they were about to leave that they found out that a splash zone had been set up for festival goers to cool off.)