He had been a bit standoffish with these people. His day job kept him with enough money and there was something to be said for artistic freedom. Culler had always managed to find the time to doodle on the side, but the things he was satisfied with started to pile up. Some clients who visited saw the open programs with his own art, and eventually the pictures made it into conversation and then circulation. Grittier than the pristine stuff people were used to, and sexier than the cartoon shit out there. To shut some of the friendlier clients up, he'd thrown together a portfolio.<br/><br/>And here he was. He wasn't really into deadlines when it came to his own creativity - correcting and brushing off other's stuff was one thing - so he'd kept piling on the conditions and raised the rates in a half-assed attempt at scaring them off. Sometimes he was downright impossible, but they'd bent over backwards once they met him, and liked to tell him he had a sellable personality, which almost certainly meant he would be entertaining people at some point. The money and the perks were too good, eventually, and he'd agreed to do a book for them, especially when they mostly meant to use what he already had.<br/><br/>Kingston was a tool, but did his job well. Culler didn't mind bleached teeth and obviously spoiled skin if it didn't come with an overly attached personality. The studio was grand, and the tech along with the traditional art supplies were ridiculous. Culler had been here since last night. This place was insane. They'd put in everything he asked for. Walking around in the dark, and playing with the handfull of screens littering the three rooms, he'd been able to elaborate on the cover art idea. Kingston had been orgasmic about it, but Culler wasn't happy yet.<br/><br/>Standing in the sun from a large window, the Clements artist looked the part. One of his denim legs was completely destroyed, showing an abundance of skin, and his loose, gray tanktop stressed the fact that he was long and beautiful but didn't care. He'd wanted to be comfortable if he needed to produce. For the air conditioning, he'd tied a sweater around his waist. His hair was in a mess and his eyes were nonchalant, as always.<br/><br/>When she came in he smiled widely, arm outstretched to touch the leaned-back, giant screen. Kingston had talked about a contact here on the company, that would be something of a motivator and a secretary. Culler dropped his head back and laughed, his legs giving to have him squat. Eventually he was kneeling, head fallen forward, his endless arms around his stomach. A stone angel in modern rags, hunched over in this nordic interior design garden. "You're fucking kidding me." he stuttered out between the fits of glee.<br/><br/>The screen contained her face in different stages of completion. Just when he'd fucked the hope out of her, but also hinting at her enjoyment of it with the effectual blush. Her own eyes would be staring at her, hating her and wanting more. Culler stood and wiped one eye as he came to the properly dressed woman who'd cleaned his cock not too long ago. "So. You're the one who's going to keep me happy enough to draw?" he assessed and circled her. "Fuck, Talia. I can't get away from you if I try, can I?" he mocked as he clapped her ass.<br/><br/>He stood in front of her soon, naked arms crossed. "So, how about you tell me what you need from me, then. I don't want to get in the way of your job. I know you're probably very serious about it." He seemed reasonable for a while. Poor girl. She was probably scared of a number of things. His physical violence, his continued forced intimacy, and now the safety of her employment, too. "I'll play along." he promised and then shrugged. "But take off your panties first."