Written for the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Multifandom Fanfic Challenge on Livejournal using the prompt 'The artist is the creator of beautiful things' which is from The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Alice had once played connect the dots across his body.
She caught him by surprise so often and in so many ways that he found it strange that he was still surprised by it after all the time they spent together. He had sat there, completely mystified, as she started up his arm with her paint brush. The dark brown paint she had chosen was wet and tickled slightly as the scattered markings appeared beneath the bristles. Enjoying herself, she had quickly removed the rest of his clothing to expand the landscape. He relinquished himself completely into her power, letting her have whatever she wanted; anything to make his Alice smile.
When he had been living with Maria, and then later with Peter and Charlotte, he had never given much thought to the jagged scars crossing his skin. He just assumed that it was the way of those like him. It was the price he paid for his monstrosities. Those who take and destroy lives of others become disfigured themselves, both inside and out.
That was when she waltzed into his life, flawless in every way imaginable. Everything about her was magic and he had been cast under her spell instantly. The way that she influenced her surroundings, taking them in as they were and spinning them around until everyone saw them the same way she did. Life was glorious to her and he felt terrible being a source of imperfection in her world of beauty.
Back and forth the lines she drew crossed the permanent markings on his skin, adding in more colours as she went, creating a mosaic across his stone-like exterior. He watched her as she surveyed him intensely, her canvas, adding swirls at measured increments and speckling at others, creating contours around his muscles. As she painted, she sang softly to herself, something familiar but it hadn't been something he was able to place, relaxing him to his core. They had spent hours doing it, with her painting and him watching, when Jasper noticed that her rhythm of her song and her hands were slowing. The remaining seconds ticked by until she finally set down her brush. He could feel irritation leaking out of her as she walked around his still form, eying his body critically, obviously unhappy with her work, but based on what she had to work with from the start Jasper wasn't that surprised. His rough exterior would have surely proven a difficult medium for even Alice.
Without explanation she took his hand and led him silently into the bathroom, where he caught his reflection in the vanity mirror. He was stunning. If he were to stand still in a museum, there was no doubt in his mind that Alice's artistic creation would be praised for generations. She had transformed his mangled body into a work of art.
He was so transfixed by his new transformation that he hadn't noticed Alice removing her own clothes until her perfect form was standing beside him in the reflection and their eyes met through the surface. He had a porcelain figurine staring back at him, and he finally fit onto the display shelf alongside her. His goddess tilted her head to him and turned around, stepping lightly into the shower behind them.
Within an instant he had followed and let the hot water run over his flesh, and watched as the paint began to smear while it slowly blurred the strokes that Alice had meticulously drawn, erasing her corrections to his skin.
Her touch on his chest had taken him by surprise. He could feel her hands caressing him gently and smelled the light aroma of lavender soap filling the room. Casting his eyes down, he saw Alice standing on her tiptoes before him lathering it into his body drawing out the colour. As her hands became more insistent and explorative, the pressure of her touch forced a groan out of his throat and his strong hands came to rest on her shoulders, giving his some contact while giving her the control she wanted. She was determined in her mission. She worked her way down his body, hands moving in tantalisingly slow circular patterns, removing the paint inch by inch, revealing his true self once more.
It was a blissful torture, standing still as she took control of his body. It was taking all of his self restraint to stop himself from just throwing her against the wall of the shower and having his way with him. This was the most wonderful of tortures; fingers trailing down his sides, brushing lightly over the inside of his thighs, seeing the mischief in her eyes as she gave his buttocks a firm squeeze. It finally got to be too much as she tickled the skin between his toes during the cleansing. Growling, he picked her up and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as he pressed her back to the wall, flesh meeting flesh warmed under the water. Her hands continued the washing up his long neck until her fingers brushed his face. Her hands were quickly replaced by her lips, insistently kissing away what was left.
As the last of the paint was removed from his face, she smiled "There you are. I couldn't see you under all that mess." His eyes had closed as her lips grew closer to his own, her enticing scent filling his mind. Her irritation had dissolved, and the feelings of passion and joy were enveloping him completely as he pulled her legs tighter around him, losing himself within her emotions. He couldn't believe that she preferred him this way and not as the thing of beauty she had created. He had always known her feelings for him, but if Alice could love his exterior in such a fashion, Jasper hoped that his interior was up to the task to keep up. Forever he would strive be the man that she deserved.
Art, like love, is truly in the eye of the beholder.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are always nice :)