Drawing Stuff Novels & Stories

Not even the right brushes. I held my hand to my mouth, fighting so hard not to laugh. "Why? Are they not enough?" "Kade, these items are freehand sketching materials. Good for someone who is just getting into drawing recently. There is nothing here that I can actually use. Not a single proper stroke." I explained and there was clear confusion on his face. It was obvious I had just said something he had absolutely no knowledge about and he was not trying to pretend otherwise. "Okay. So what am I supposed to do now?"

Firm. I closed my eyes. I tried to paint in my mind. The lines were still wrong. I opened my eyes. She was licking my underarm now. Her tongue traced the muscle. The hair. The scent of me. She moaned against my skin. Her hand never stopped stroking my cock. I reached for the sketchpad beside the bed. Charcoal in my other hand. I started to draw her. The line came out clean. Sharp. Alive. I drew her eyes. The way they looked up at me. Endearing. Devoted. I drew her mouth. The way her lips wrapped around my balls. I drew her hair. The way it fell across her shoulder as she licked my underarm.

“Are you still drawing?” I blinked. “Yeah… I mean, kind of. Some freelance stuff here and there.” “he’s being modest,” my mom cut in proudly. “River’s drawings were featured in that art walk last month. People couldn’t stop talking about that one with the fog and the tree.” “It was beautiful,” Elliot added, nodding. “I saw it on I*******m.” “Thanks,” I said quietly, feeling heat rise in my face. “I just… like messing with paints.”

I said and placed the papers in the bottom drawer of my nightstand. Ethan looked at the drawer for a few seconds with a small smile on his face, then he looked at me. "So what's next?" "How good are you at drawing?" "I don't know. I never drew except for when I was a kid." "Same. But it doesn't matter. Let's draw and paint whatever we want to. We can both be terrible at this." "As far as remember, you weren't bad at art. You were actually pretty good." Shit.

Lucian Voss I was still holding the paper in my hand long after the door closed behind me. I didn’t even realize it at first, but my fingers had tightened around it like I was afraid of letting it go. It was a child’s drawing, done in crayon, the lines uneven and rough. There were three stick figures. One tall figure was labeled “Mr. Lucian.” The next was a woman with long hair, drawn with wide strokes and labeled “Mama.” Between them stood a small boy with messy curls and a wide smile. He had no label because I didn’t need one.

Is he flirting with me ? " What's wrong ?", he asked as I fiddled with the pencils in my hand. " Ahmm..mine is Faber Castel Poly..c..chromos pencils. It's q..quality is good. Maybe you buy it and try.", I said. He smiled. " No matter whichever paint I use and how hard I try, I won't be able to draw your beautiful baby blue eyes as beautifully as they are.", he said. " E..Ethan, stop s..saying such things.", I chided.

“Darlin’, we’re in New Orleans. You want a crown? I’ll find you a crown.” “Condom crowns don’t count.” My mouth teased into a smirk. “Fuck. Back to my drawin’ board.” “If you can draw anything beyond a stick man and/or a penis, I’ll be very impressed.” “Blow job kind of impressed?” “Aiden.” Elena rested a hand on my thigh softly. “Can you draw anything other than a stick man or a penis?” I ran my tongue over my lips slowly and deliberately and grinned when her eyes flicked down. “I can probably draw an all right pair of tits.”

I looked over it again and again as I hoped Chris would love it. It is a realistic drawing of him in black and white. No color pencil was used. He is a suit with his arms folded on each other. He looked so manly with his expressionless face standing there. I made the drawing to his stomach and stopped it there, not drawing further down. It looks like a portrait. I wish I could frame it out before he comes back from work but I won't even be going out today. I glanced up at the time and it was up to an hour before he arrives from work.

"I will help." Kai nods with the satisfaction of someone whose project planning has received the necessary resource confirmation. Then he picks up the drawing book from the chair and he opens it to a fresh page and he begins to draw, right there in the treatment room, with the focused economy of someone who has something to get down before the image leaves. I look over his shoulder. He is drawing three figures: a small one, a tall one, and a third one whose silver hair he renders in careful crosshatched lines, standing in the western quarter with the tree and the lifted pavement stone visible at the edge of the frame.

Adrian would throw a tantrum if he saw me in this position, so I stood and leaned against the door. He nodded enthusiastically. “This one has more details.” I took the drawing from him, my chest tightening in the softest way. It was another image of us again. Four figures this time. Adrian, me, Ollie… and a slightly bigger circle where the baby was. There were tiny lines now, little attempts at arms and legs. “It’s growing,” he explained seriously, pointing at the paper in my grip. “So I made it bigger.” “That’s very accurate,” I say, my voice gentler than I expect.