Work Text:
Whether it was intentional or not Danai was posed like a modern day Lucifer.
Yok wanted to devour him. Like a fucking…. Praying mantis or something.
He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with that thought…
He settled for picking up his favorite piece of charcoal and getting to work instead. He had told the Officer that it would only be one sketch. But when he started tracing his frame, Yok knew he could spend the rest of his life drawing Danai Ratchapakdee, and never get tired of it. He was mesmerized by the way Danai’s body moved. With every breath he took it seemed his entire body shifted.
His legs were long and strong. He favored leaning on his right knee. Yok wondered if it was an injury. He had a long scar spiraling around his kneecap. He modestly sat with his legs covering...
Yok’s eyes trailed up.
Danai was well built. And, when he wasn’t awkwardly flexing, his stomach looked soft. Yok had never noticed someone’s stomach before.
Since he’s a fucking cop, Yok thought. He’s a fucking cop that I want to f—
He shook his head.
Better to focus on the drawing and not other things.
Even though other things were right there. Within reaching distance
He blurred the lines around his chest on the drawing the show movement.
Then he shifted gears and started to take on Danai's face.
Yok crumpled up the drawing and started anew.
He wasn’t sure whether or not he could capture the depths of Danai’s eyes in this particular moment in time.
But he sure as hell was going to try.
Yok studied the way his bottom lip trembled, choked up. A single tear found it’s way into the corner of his eye and down his face.
“What’s wrong?” Yok asked, suddenly on high alert and feeling more in tuned to Danai’s emotions than he had with anyone else’s ever before.
“I just feel like I’m confessing my sins,” he told him, avoiding eye contact.
Yok was dying to know more about his mysterious cop’s past. What events led up to creation of the UNAR persona and their meeting.
Luckily Yok didn’t have to wonder for long. “ I did something wrong before.” Danai had Yok’s full undivided attention, but that didn’t sway him. It empowered him to be vulnerable to somebody. Yok was honored that somebody was him. “But I can’t go back to fix it.”
The light was beginning to dim. Outside the sounds of the city were louder than ever, but inside Danai’s hideaway it was just the two of them.
Danai inhaled.
“I tried to restore justice. But I failed,” he choked up and shook his head as the tears continued to stain his cheeks. “In the end, I couldn’t do anything.”
Yok embraced his fallen angel. Whispering comforting words into his neck, stroking his back in a way he hoped was soothing.
Danai let out the most heartbreaking sob and Yok held him tighter. He could feel the shoulders of his shirt getting damp but he didn’t care. He had unlocked exactly what he had been looking for. In his project and his relationship with the officer.
Yok wondered when Alexandre Cabanel painted his rendition of the Devil if he ever imagined the tears his subject would shed once faced with the consequences of his past.
Yok held Danai tighter.
He wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.