Taylor Caniff Imagine - Paint my body-
I can feel the pulse of the base vibrating throughout my whole body. People decorated in paint and barely there clothing are dancing wildly to the beat of the music. There are few things better in this world than a black light paint party. I shudder at the cool, light strokes of a brush against my bare abdomen as my once clear skin is marked by neon paint. There isn’t really a distinct pattern to the twisty intersecting lines, but it’s beautiful all the same. “Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” the lady doing the painting instructs. I nod in cooperation and do as she says. She begins twirling the brush at the corners of my eyes and down the side of my face. “All done, what do you think?” she turns me toward a mirror. I examine my reflection, tracing my hands down my sides and making some obscure faces at myself. “It’s perfect, thank you,” I smile in appreciation. “No problem! Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any artistic abilities would you?” she shouts so I can hear her above the music. “I’m no Picasso, but I’m not too bad,” I shrug modestly. “Could you take care of some paintings while I take a quick break? My hands are cramping up,” she pleads. “Yeah, sure, of course,” I sit down on a stool while she smiles gratefully before disappearing into the sea of people.
I alternate between watching people dance and keeping an eye on the door for people just arriving who may be in need of some body paint. I shift my eyes to the dance floor, but in my peripherals I notice a few guys walk in. They stand there for a moment taking the whole scene in. One of them has dark black hair and bright blue eyes that heavily contrast his pale skin. Another has brown hair and a charming smile with full lips. The third one, the one caught my attention first, has a bandana tied around his messy brown hair and a devious smirk plastered on his lips. They simultaneously turns their heads toward me and I look down at the paint. Don’t fuck this up.
“Hey, are you uh doing the paintings?” the brunette with nice lips asks. “Uh yeah, I suppose I am,” I say, looking down at the brush in my hands and the various cans of paint spread out on the table next to me. “Do me first,” The one with the bandana nudges the other two out of the way. “Can I get a please?” I retort. He playfully rolls his eyes at me. “Do me first…Please,” he cocks his head to the side. “Interesting choice of words,” I muse at him. “I know what I said,” he smirks. I widen my eyes in surprise. They all laugh. I choose to ignore his suggestive comment. “Face or body?” I ask, getting up off the stool. “Body,” he replies immediately. He reaches his hand behind his head to yank his shirt off in the way that all boys do. I have to make an effort to not gape at his body. This boy has the most well defined and cut abdomen I have ever seen. “Whatcha looking at?” he teases. I snap my head up to look at his face. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m thinking of a pattern,” I snap at him. “Do you always bite your lip when you’re deep in thought about ‘art’?” he puts air quotes around art. The blue eyed boy lightly punches him in the back. “You’re a cocky little shit aren’t you?” I challenge, narrowing my eyes. He begins to open his mouth but both boys cut him off. “Ignore him,” they say in unison. I nod and dip the brush in paint.
About a half hour elapses by the time I’ve finished painting all three boys. By this time I’ve learned that the boy with blue eyes is named Nash, the one with nice lips is Cameron, or Cam for short, and the smartass wearing the bandana is Taylor. “Zayumm ,(Y/N), you’re amazing,” Nash compliments as he admires my work on his naked torso. I giggle at his substitution for ‘damn’. “You’re really talented!” Cameron agrees, gently tapping my shoulder blade. “Not bad,” Taylor agrees nonchalantly, bobbing his head. I’m not sure if I want to kiss him or slap him. Maybe both. “No problem,” I smile at the three as they walk towards the dance area. Taylor turns his head to study me for a moment. I hold his eye contact and raise an eyebrow. A small smile plays at the edges of his mouth before he looks away to join his friends. I shake my head in confusion and leave my post to find my friends.
My body sways to the beat of some dubstep song I’ve never heard before, but quickly decide I like. I’m thoroughly enjoying myself when someone softly places their hands on my shoulders and and spins me around the face them. For the first half a second I think it’s my friend, but then my brain starts working and I realize it’s definitely a boy’s hands by the time he presses his lips to mine. My head tells me to retract but my body can’t help but melt into the kiss. You would expect the kiss to be rough and sloppy given the environment, but it’s surprisingly gentle, sweet and dare I say a bit passionate. He runs his hands down my sides leaving goosebumps behind before gripping my hips firmly and pulling me against him so tightly it eliminates even the smallest space.
Instinctively I begin to run my hands through his hair, but a piece of fabric gets in my way. Taylor. “You,” I gasp, pulling away. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my waist so my body is still tightly pressed against his. “Why’d you stop?” he questions with a small frown. “Do you always kiss strangers?” I reply to his question with my own. My head is spinning. “Do you?” he confronts. “No,” I shake my head. “Then what the hell are you doing?” he rubs his thumbs across my skin, smearing the paint a little. “What the hell are you doing?!” I whisper-yell. “Are you actually going to answer any of my questions?” the amusement on his face disappears. “Maybe. Are you going to let go of me?” I put my hands against his chest, ready to push him back. “Do you want me to let go?” he brings one of his hands to the top of my bandeau top and slides it down my back, stopping right before he gets to my ass. “Uhh..uhh…” I sputter, completely flustered. He brings his face closer, resting his nose against mine. “Just tell me to stop and I will,” Taylor whispers. I should tell him to stop. Kissing strangers probably isn’t a good idea. He’s really hot though. I’m not going to tell him to stop. He brushes his lips faintly against mine and I can’t help but shudder involuntarily. “Oh fuck it,” I run my hands from his jaw down his neck and attach my lips to his. He smiles into the kiss, pressing my back against a wall. I can’t feel or taste anything that isn’t Taylor. I hear some whooping and hollering from somewhere off in the room and assume it’s Nash and Cameron, but I can’t be bothered to open my eyes and check. I guess it’s true what they say; bad boy, good lips.
*gif credit to whackyourcuntout and oursecondlifevideos*