City of Dreams

by Sydney Blackburn

  *~*~*

  Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, staring across the cafe table at Marcus. "If you make me keep seeking you out, people will talk."

  "No people I care about. And I don't make you do anything."

  "Marcus," Sebastian said, irritated that he had to come to this unfashionable cafe. He didn't know why it bothered him so much that this one person, out of so many men and women, should refuse his bed. He reached across the table almost without thinking to stroke the other man's jaw. It was strong, not easily noticed because of his dramatic, feminine cheekbones. The sunlight slanting through the trees painted his face in a seductive play of light and shadows. He wondered how that light would play along his naked body.

  Marcus ignored Sebastian's hand. "I'm not interested in being another body in your bed that you can't put a name to."

  "I know your name," he muttered. "What do you want from me?"

  "What makes you think I want anything more from you than your kind guidance of my work?"

  Sebastian drew back his hand aware that he was chasing this pretty boy and that was definitely not his way. People came to him. He leaned back. He wasn't overly particular in judging human beauty; he liked women with sharp cheekbones and pouty lips, with hair no longer than shoulder length—long enough to pull, not long enough to get trapped between them. Small breasts and hips. His taste in men was even less specific, requiring only a certain youth and firmness about the stomach and ass. Short, tall, dark or fair, he could find something desirable in almost anyone. So anyone who sought him out usually got his attention at least for one night.

  But Marcus Allegro, he was something else. In spite of what he'd led the young man to believe, he'd never forgotten his name. He'd called him pretty because of those cheekbones, which gave him a feminine beauty. His eyes were a blue-grey that sparkled like gems when he laughed; his hair was burnished gold, in this light, too short for fashion yet still seemed just long enough to bury his fingers in as those lovely lips wrapped around his—

  "Do I have something in my teeth?"

  Sebastian blinked, realizing he was staring at Marcus's luscious mouth. "Sadly, no." He smiled slowly and enjoyed the blush he evoked. He probably should leave now, but his pleasant little fantasy had left him hard and his coat wasn't designed to hide such a thing, so he resolved to wait until it passed, which might be a long time, if Marcus kept blushing like that. "You've had sex before, haven't you, Marcus?"

  Ah, another, brighter blush. "Not that it's any of your business."

  Sebastian smiled. "You know I want to fuck you."

  "I had worked that out," Marcus replied dryly. "What you don't seem to have grasped is that I don't want to, want you to--oh shit."

  "You are the worst liar I've ever met," Sebastian laughed. "But we'll try it your way. Draw something."

  "Wh-what?"

  He gestured toward Marcus's sketchbook. "Draw something. Show me what you can do, under pressure."

  Marcus gave him a steely look, lips pressed together, then picked up his charcoal and book. He propped the sketchpad open and gave Sebastian another narrow-eyed look, as if this were a trick, and began to draw. Short, concise strokes, long sweeping ones. As he moved to the details, his eyebrows drew together in concentration and he pulled his bottom lip under his teeth. Sebastian looked away lest he be caught up again in fantasies about that mouth.

  Before Sebastian's cup was drained, Marcus abruptly ripped out the page and thrust it at him. The eye-catching element was the coffee cup and the fingers bent over it. From there the eye was drawn along the line of the arm to the rest of the figure, which even in the rushed sketch exuded arrogance. It took him a long minute to realize— "That's me."

  "It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Marcus asked, his voice sullen. "Proof of my inevitable desire for you?"

  Sebastian pulled his eyes away from the piece. It was magnificently done, but it was in no way flattering to him. He studied Marcus, keeping his face blank. "Can I keep it?"

  Marcus gave him a disbelieving stare before rolling his eyes. "Sure."

  Back in his rooms, Sebastian covered the sketch with a protective charm and framed it. The perspective was, he'd have said, wrong for a portrait, but the artfully careless fingers on the rim of the cup said loudly that this was a pose. Yes, the figure—himself, he reminded—was portrayed in lazy arrogance, almost cruel, but it was just a pose. In some ways, he'd never felt so naked, and he wondered if Marcus had realized what he'd drawn. Was it possible the maddeningly beautiful Marcus had the Eye?

  The Eye was the almost mythical ability to see past all artifice. It was, in theory, the quality of a Master artist. Sebastian had it, which was why he rated the title of Master at the tender age of twenty-four. In the two years since, he'd not come across another student in the entire ecole with it. Until, possibly, now.

  Four

  Sebastian asked Marcus to dine with him, a suspect invitation, but one Marcus could not bring himself to refuse. It was a private meal in a room above a nearby taverna: just the two of them, rather to Marcus's surprise. And although he'd meant to ask Bastian—not Seb, but Bastian, please—what game he was playing, he enjoyed the evening too much.

  Plates were cleared and a second bottle of wine opened before he even noticed how many hours had passed. Bastian asking about his family and life before coming to the city, and talking about his own family and how he came to be the darling of the art world. "You know art and magic don't mix; we can't make art using enchanted brushes and—"

  "Yeah, yeah," Marcus interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Get to the point, I have to piss."

  "Then go piss, because this is a deep, important point I was going to make and while you're gone I can try to remember what it was."

  They both laughed, the giggly sound of wine-induced humour, which was even funnier, Marcus thought as he stumbled down the stairs and out the back door to the alley to relieve himself. The night air sobered him a little and he realized he should be going home while he could still walk somewhat straight.

  "Marcus! Hurry up, you idiot! I remembered!"

  Hell with it. He climbed the stairs unsteadily to find Bastian uncorking yet another bottle of wine. "Oh, I don't know, Bastian."

  And when the morning sun stabbed into the room like golden daggers, he had no idea how he'd arrived home, and in bed. Still partially clothed. He moaned, burrowing under the covers, and hoped he hadn't done anything too foolish the night before.

  *~*~*

  Sebastian hadn't meant to get Marcus inebriated, opening a new bottle had just seemed like a good excuse to prolong the evening, one of the most enjoyable he'd spent in ages. He'd meant to talk to him about the Eye, but by the time he'd remembered, it was two bottles too late. So it was just as well Marcus had gotten falling down drunk. A smile crossed his lips before he realized it. Marcus was an adorably sloppy drunk, and far too trusting. Fortunately, as debased as Sebastian might be, he didn't take advantage of drunks, no matter how adorable they were.

  He wasn't feeling all that bright-eyed himself this morning, so he could imagine how Marcus felt. Still smiling, he mixed a hangover cure spell with milk and spices and sealed half in a clean wine bottle. He wrote a note and sent both to Marcus by messenger.

  This will help you feel better. I believe we solved half the problems of the human condition last night, but damned if I can remember, so I hope you do. Very enjoyable evening.

  He drank his own share of the cure, washed and shaved his face. By the time he dressed, the messenger was knocking on his door. He hadn't expected a reply. "Could you wait a moment?"

  He unfolded Marcus's reply:

  The solutions must have been hilarious because my ribs ache from laughing. I hope it's from laughing. I don't remember anything after the second bottle of wine. Don't remember how I got here, but thanks, also for the remedy.

  Smiling, Sebastian penned a hasty response:

  I can be honourable, even when my intentions aren't.

&nb
sp; Let him ponder that, Sebastian thought.

  Then again, a reply:

  We're across the courtyard; if we're going to continue our conversation, there must be a cheaper way than paying this damned messenger. Come over. Bring food, I'm starving.

  Sebastian was so used to people offering to do anything for him, the demand at first offended him, then he found it amusing. Finally, he sent the messenger to the kitchen to ask the cook to pack a lunch for two. "And have something yourself, for all the running to and fro."

  *~*~*

  Marcus bit the inside of his lower lip as he watched the messenger dart across the courtyard again, wondering if he should call him back. He must still be diminished in capacity from the past night's wine. Surely Sebastian Moreaux would not come without so much as a please. So he had barely got his breeches buttoned and buckled when a rap on his chamber door had him scurrying to the main room. He pulled open the door, expecting the messenger with Bastian's regrets and backed up, eyes wide, to see Bastian himself, with a large basket that filled the room with mouth-watering smells.

  "I'm not sure which is more tempting," Bastian said, giving him a lingering head to toe glance. "You, or this basket."

  "I didn't think you'd come," Marcus admitted.

  Bastian raised his eyebrow and shrugged one shoulder towards the door. "You want me to leave?"

  "No, no. I wouldn't have, er, invited you, if I didn't want..." Damn, how could he be so clumsy with words in person and so confident on paper. He pulled up a smile and swept his arm wide to invite Bastian in. "Please, come in. I'll just finish dressing."

  "No need on my account," Bastian called after him.

  *~*~*

  "Aren't you worried for your virginity, out alone with me, in the dark," Sebastian teased.

  They were walking along the riverside gardens of the former royal palace that was now the Ecole d'Art. Moonlight caught in the paler flowers, seemingly lighting their way. Marcus laughed. "I don't think one can have a first time more than once."

  Sebastian chuckled. "Depends."

  Marcus gave him a sidelong glance, but the night kept all secrets. "I don't know why everyone thinks I've never had sex. I'm twenty years old and, to my dismay, pretty."

  Sebastian snorted. "Pretty is somewhat of an understatement."

  "Flattery doesn't work on me," Marcus replied. Untruthfully, but the darkness hid the flush on his cheeks that might have given him away.

  After a marked silence he said, "So how many have there been?"

  Marcus hesitated, then figuring how Sebastian would see it, he shrugged and confessed. "Lovers? Just two. I suppose you've not kept count."

  "No, never bothered. Did you love them?"

  He again took his time answering. "No. The first I sort of hero-worshipped, but I was young and my father sent him far away from me. The other--no." If Sebastian was bold enough to ask such personal questions of him, he assumed he could do the same. "Have you? Been in love, I mean."

  Sebastian stopped short. "Once."

  "Oh."

  "Her name was Angelique, and believe me, I was surprised to find myself feeling like that, like she was the only one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I was eighteen, and we'd made so many plans how we would be together when I came to the City of Dreams to study at the ecole."

  He resumed walking and Marcus did too, keeping pace, but when Sebastian volunteered nothing more, he asked, "What happened?"

  Sebastian made a harsh and unhappy sound, similar to laughter. "It's complicated." He sighed. "My father died when I was young, and my mother soon after found me unbearable. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, as an older brother to my cousins. Angelique mistook me for the heir to my uncle's estates."

  Marcus flinched in sympathy, imagining how that must have hurt. "Sorry."

  "Mmm. It's a mistake I've never repeated. I'd advise you to not make it at all."

  Marcus didn't know what to say to that. He'd never thought about how love happened, but he hadn't imagined it was a choice. Even Sebastian had admitted he'd been surprised to discover how he felt about Angelique. They walked in silence until they stood in the warm yellow glow of the lamps marking the doors to the ecole.

  Sebastian turned to him with a smile. "Come to my room?"

  Marcus returned the smile, wanting to do exactly that. "No. Good-night, Sebastian."

  *~*~*

  Sebastian returned to his room alone. Again. He fumbled for a match and lit an oil lamp, all he needed for the short time it would take him to prepare for bed. His eye fell on the sketch Marcus had done. He really shouldn't be spending so much time with someone who could see him that clearly. Of course, Marcus believed he was just being nice to seduce him to his bed.

  Aren't you? He sighed and undressed, his gaze drawn back to the framed sketch repeatedly. He should pay more attention to Marcus in the studio and less outside of it. No wasn't something he'd heard often, but he could hardly expect everyone to whom he was attracted to reciprocate. He frowned, because he knew, without quite knowing how, that Marcus was attracted to him. That was what made his refusal so frustrating.

  He growled, literally, surprising himself and snarled a curse after it as he turned down the lamp. He would quit this silly game before it got too far. He had more than enough men and women to amuse himself with, he could do without this one.

  In the studio in the morning, the artists were practising on developing their Eye, if they had it, by using a life model, a pretty young woman draped as a classical representation of Dea. This was her second day and Sebastian expected to see something developing on his artists' canvases. When he noticed Marcus working on a canvas with a landscape orientation, he found he had to force himself to go over. "Dislike the model?"

  Marcus gave him a wide-eyed look. "I couldn't find the Dea in her." He gestured to a discarded canvas and Sebastian picked it up. Although it was just a sketch, presumably from the day before, and the figure was clearly the model, there was the sensation of grasping claws from her hands and feet and her expression was hungry. "I don't know why I can't. Sometimes I can paint what I want, other times it just distorts like that," he said, mostly in a mumble.

  Sebastian didn't say anything. "It could be you're seeing something in her not readily apparent to everyone else."

  Marcus snorted. "I don't think so."

  He looked at the canvas on Marcus's easel and caught his breath. Which was an unusual reaction to a landscape. "What is that?"

  "It's... what the City of Dreams dreams about." His face flushed.

  He looked so adorable when he blushed that Sebastian was torn between admiring the half-finished painting on the easel or the young man painting it. He asked questions about technique he already knew the answers to, and finally said, "I'm sorry if anything I said last night upset you." Did he just apologize?

  "N-no." Marcus met his gaze then. "What do you want from me, Bastian?"

  Before he could stop, his gaze flicked to Marcus's mouth. He dragged his eyes back up before they could slip lower, but Marcus was smiling wryly at him.

  "Besides that."

  That should be enough. Sebastian moved to stand behind Marcus and bent down as if to offer advice. His voice low and temptingly close to Marcus's ear, he said, "Marcus... your name I wouldn't forget as I told you every filthy fantasy I've had about that pretty mouth of yours—where is that?" Yes, the painting distracted him from a full seduction attempt. It really did look like a dream a city might have.

  "I could show you," Marcus offered, as though Sebastian had not said anything else.

  He straightened, and against his better judgement, he smiled and said, "I'd like that."

  The morning session ended and Marcus caught his attention by waving and gesturing. A carriage was already waiting, and it crossed the noisy Old Bridge over the Savil River and headed downstream on the other side. Technically outside the city limits, it was dotted with modest farms, whilst across the river, difficult to see through the trees, were t
he former warehouses that blocked the view of the river. "I've been down this road many times, Marcus."

  "Not quite like this, I suspect," he said, his pale blue eyes shining as if he'd made an obscure double entendre.

  The carriage turned down a dusty road towards the river, winding back on itself down the hill. Sebastian could see nothing from the windows, but Marcus scrambled out with his sketchbook and held the carriage door expectantly. Sebastian stepped into the settling cloud of dust to see an old ferry, the kind that crossed the river by rope. They were below the breakwater and the river flowed fast and sometimes furious here.

  "The sun is not quite right, not yet," Marcus said, squinting at the sky. "Come, the ferry master serves cold drinks, including coffee."

  "Why would I want cold coffee," Sebastian muttered.

  "Order what you like, then," he said cheerfully, ignoring the dust that had gathered in the soft folds of his coat.

  "Is this the place, then?" He could see buildings that looked very similar to what Marcus had painted, but he failed to see whatever it was that had excited Marcus, or inspired the mystical quality of the landscape. "Did you hear everything I said to you? In the studio?"

  Marcus smiled shyly at him as an older woman in widow-black set a cup in front of Marcus, topped with a swirl of delicately whipped cream. "It doesn't melt in cold coffee," he said, poking the swirl with a finger.

  "Hot coffee, sweet," Sebastian said to the woman, thinking maybe there was some illicit substance added to the cold coffee, given how strange Marcus was acting. Then Marcus put his finger in his mouth, and slowly licked the cream off. Sebastian forgot to breathe for a moment, staring in lustful jealousy that it was Marcus's finger being licked and not—

  "Something about my mouth?"

  Sebastian sucked in air and glared at Marcus, but he couldn't maintain it and he smirked. The smirk twitched into a grin which led to a laugh. "You brat. You can't use my own desires against me."