Marcus tapped a finger, clean of cream, against his pursed lips, drawing Sebastian's gaze there again. "No?"
After untold, excruciating minutes of watching Marcus tease him with that cursed cream, he growled, "Just drink your damn coffee."
Marcus gave him a wide-eyed look that might have fooled him yesterday and lifted the cup to his mouth. He set it down, and Sebastian tried to ignore the line of cream on his lip but when Marcus stuck out his tongue to lick it clean Sebastian groaned aloud before he could stop himself. He jumped to his feet, forcing the chair back with a loud scrape. Marcus was halfway out of his chair when Sebastian grabbed his arm and said in his ear, "There are names for people like you."
Marcus stood up and leaned back into Sebastian, pressing against his erection. He hissed as Marcus said, "There are names for people like you, too, Bastian." Before he could respond, Marcus pulled away and grabbed his hand. "Come on, the sun is perfect."
He let himself be dragged down to the ferry, and grunted when Marcus untied the small boat, letting out a pull rope they could use to pull it back to the dock. The sun glinting off the water was almost blinding, so he kept his eye on Marcus. Deciding that putting his arm around him was a better idea, he pulled Marcus back against his chest, and began a rather explicit list of things he'd like to do with Marcus's mouth until Marcus said, "Look," in a breathy voice.
He did. The sun on the water gave it almost exactly the surreal effect in Marcus's painting. He had no idea how Marcus had stumbled across this, getting the perfect time of day; it was one of those sights almost magical to see. He felt humbled that Marcus shared it with him.
"I knew you'd see it," Marcus said, his voice still soft.
Sebastian released Marcus, seduction forgotten, and fumbled for his sketchbook, seeing things he'd not seen in Marcus's half-finished painting. He was vaguely aware that Marcus was sketching, too. He sketched, several pages worth, notations on colour scribbled in a hand he himself could barely read sometimes. When the sun moved far enough to dull the gleam of the water, Marcus began to pull the little barge back to the dock. Sebastian admired his strength; Marcus was a slender beauty, he had not suspected physical strength, but he watched only a moment before lending his aid to the task.
It was only as the carriage deposited them in front of the ecole that Sebastian realized he'd not paid a penny for the day's adventure. It had been a delightful excursion, romantic, even, if he were inclined that way, and no one had ever treated him so. Before he could say anything to Marcus, such as thank you, Marcus asked, "Are you inclined for supper? There's a sausage seller just across the square."
He was abruptly treated to an image of Marcus putting a sausage between his lips. He glared at Marcus. "I don't think I could watch you eat a sausage in public without making a terrible fool of myself."
Marcus gave him a shy smile.
Sebastian realized he wasn't quite ready for the day to end. "Perhaps something less..." he cast around for the right word, trying to minimize how effective Marcus's teasing was. "A meat pie?"
"With gravy?"
Sebastian closed his eyes, aware that the damage was done. Whatever they decided to share for a meal would have him aching for Marcus's mouth. "Did you plan this?"
"Not exactly. I mean, how could I know the weather today would be perfect? Or that you would say such a thing in the studio?'
He opened his eyes and turned to stare. "About your mouth?"
"No." Marcus's cheeks reddened in the late afternoon sun. "You apologized. The, uh, rest was just... useful." He smiled, and Sebastian was beginning to think that shy was the wrong description for it.
Five
"I want to paint you." What he really wanted was for Marcus to make his painting of the sketch he'd drawn of Sebastian at the cafe. He wasn't ready to see his own truths laid bare, though.
"No."
It was the third time he'd asked, and the third time Marcus had said no. "I misspoke, Marcus, I know you've already said no. I need a model. I have a commission for a portrayal of Deo and the Tree of Life, and I could use your help."
"Surely you could get anyone you wanted to model for that." Marcus kept his eyes downcast, which was a shame, he had beautiful eyes.
"Anyone I wanted, hmm. If that were true, you'd have said yes already." Sebastian reached across to put a finger under Marcus's chin and raise his face. "Please?"
Marcus gave him a small smile. "You just want to get me out of my clothes."
"Yes, but that's an entirely separate matter."
The smile broadened into a grin that took Sebastian's breath away. He thought getting to know Marcus would lessen his desire for him, but it hadn't. Sometimes, like now, he wanted Marcus so bad, he could barely think. What had he just said? Painting Marcus, yes. He had a face mostly done, but he wanted a full figure study.
In the studio, he had Marcus disrobe behind a screen, into a robe more commonly worn for casual mornings with friends—over shirt and breeches, that was to say—for warmth, though the studio was kept warm by a spell enhanced coal fire on the hearth.
He posed him in a way common to depictions of the anthropomorphic Deo, giving him a sheet for his modesty, and hid behind a large canvas. This would be a full scale painting, or rather, Marcus would be full scale, the Tree of Life, if he bothered to go that far with his deception, would be portrayed smaller, as Deo was the all. "You really are astonishingly beautiful," he muttered, and nearly bit his tongue to realize he'd said it aloud.
Marcus sighed. "I've heard all my life how I look like a girl."
Sebastian studied him, looking from his face to the one already half existing on his canvas. "No, I wouldn't say that. It's those cheekbones, so high and sharp, they draw the eye because it seems they would be more common on a woman's face. They make your eyes appear larger, giving you an almost child-like appearance. But you've a strong chin and jaw, far too broad for a girl or a child."
He began to draw the shapes of his model's neck, shoulders, arms, chest, biting his lip as the work threatened to draw him in. He got lost in his work, that was how his Eye manifested. He often didn't know what he was doing until he'd done it. That was why he paid extra for his own studio space instead of sharing the large common studio of the ecole. But then, wasn't that what he wanted? To see Marcus through the Eye of his art?
His hands moved faster as his gaze darted from model to canvas, drawing, smudging. "Colours, colours," he muttered. All his paints were within easy reach and he popped the lids on the small jars and used a palette knife to scoop out ready to use pigments. Marcus, Marcus. Bone white, and a touch of—"Marcus, drop the sheet!"
"What? No!" A fine sheen of colour rose in his cheeks.
"Yes! Perfect." Carmine. Carnal carmine.
*~*~*
Marcus recognized what was happening to Sebastian; eyes unfocused, brow furrowed in concentration. When it happened to him, he tended to have a very sharp, yet very narrow focus that was all about line, form, light, shadow, and colour, so Sebastian's muttering made sense to him. Bastian painted figures, in pale colours, as if they were bathed in light, and bright colours surrounding them, similar to what the Vidas called auras.
Bastian didn't ask him again to drop the sheet, just poked his head from behind the canvas like a marmot, muttering to himself and scraping paint on his palette. From the depths of his absorption, he said in a voice almost normal, "You want me."
Marcus blinked and wondered if that required a response on his part. "I don't suppose that's ever been a secret," he said slowly, keeping his voice even.
"All the light is inside," Bastian said. "Cobalt."
Marcus grinned and Bastian halted briefly, staring at him. Or through him. Suddenly he darted over, palette in hand, and swiped a loaded brush across his chest, just below his collarbone. Bastian stared at the stroke, which formed a translucent gradient from a pale yellow ochre to an equally pale cobalt blue. He stared hard at the colour and rushed back to the canvas, muttering all the way. Marcus hadn't realized
that Bastian actually painted his models. He tilted his head for a better look, only have Bastian yell, "No!"
"Bastian..." He sighed.
Several more times, Bastian drew loaded brushes across his skin, at his stomach, near his navel, which had him catching his breath, and more across his thigh, each time staring in close intent at the brush stroke, as if the mysteries of existence were writ somewhere between Marcus's flesh and the uniquely luminous colours he'd created. Finally he stood over Marcus and leaned close, as if to kiss him.
Marcus held his breath. Bastian at work, in what Marcus called the painter's trance, was a privilege. Bastian painting on him and staring at him with that look, like hunger or lust, but mixed up with something else, was breathtaking. He hoped Bastian would kiss him. He would do anything for him, now—fall to his knees, bend over, anything.
But Bastian just drew thumb across Marcus's lower lip and returned to his canvas. Then a few minutes later he sat down, eyes closed. The hangover part of the painter's trance. Marcus pulled the posing sheet into a more modest arrangement. "Bastian?"
Bastian blinked and blinked again. "Marcus?" He stood up and walked over to where Marcus still sat, and stared at the streaks of paint. "What—? Did I do that?"
"Um, yes."
*~*~*
Sebastian stared in disbelief at the paint streaks on Marcus's body. Had he really managed to get that close, and some of those paint streaks were dangerously intimate, and not seduce Marcus? What on earth did the painting look like? He ducked behind the canvas to stare at the unfinished work. The blush he'd put on Marcus's striking cheekbones, the just-kissed look of his lips, and large, lust dark pupils. The details of his body, and while it was mostly unpainted as yet, the colours he'd added as a reference for finishing later were darker than he usually used for a figure, yet paler for a background.
A painting often said as much about the artist as the subject, something Sebastian generally tried to minimize, leaving himself the objective observer. In this painting, though, unfinished as it was, the love of the artist for the subject was clear in every stroke, so obvious, he might as well pay the town crier to yell it out to the entire city.
He looked back at Marcus, just rising from the bench. "Go. Wash up," he said, his voice harsh. He had to end this now. He didn't want to love someone again who would find him lacking. A poser. Marcus would see the truth of him and leave, like everyone did. How had he let things get this far with Marcus? It was supposed to be a game, a way to get the inexperienced boy into his bed. That wasn't going to happen. He tossed a cloth over the canvas, hiding the truth he didn't want to see.
He left the studio before Marcus emerged from the dressing screen, not saying a word. This had to end. Now.
Six
Sebastian paced the confines of his bedroom. He was dressed and ready for tonight's salon, but he was remembering how much he'd changed over the past few weeks, ignoring the fawning sycophants who wanted his approval perhaps less than a night in his bed. He glanced at the bed. Since he'd begun his pursuit of the elusive Marcus—who told Sebastian Moreaux no, anyway?—his bed had been empty. He hadn't really noticed but now he tried to convince himself it had been a hardship, missing all that meaningless sex.
He glared at the bed as if it had put the thought into his head. Sex shouldn't be meaningful. It was a pleasurable pursuit, nothing more. He would pursue it tonight, with someone as different from Marcus as he could find. Maybe Marie. She was shallow, manipulative, barely talented enough to be part of his group. She might do nicely. Then he frowned. She was also possessive and he'd bedded her once already. He was not foolish enough to borrow that sort of trouble. He needed someone uncomplicated. Clarissa. Yes, she'd be perfect, especially as she was one of the few who seemed to like Marcus. Mean, oh yes, but he had to drive Marcus away while the situation was still in his control.
*~*~*
Marcus felt bereft after the sitting. Sebastian's abruptness had seemed almost angry and he was gone when Marcus had finished washing off the paint and dressing. He'd been tempted to peek under the drop cloth at the unfinished painting, but he didn't like people looking at his unfinished work, and if Bastian felt otherwise, he'd not have covered it. He still felt something like mild inebriation, as if the intimacy of being allowed to watch Sebastian work and the eroticism of being literally painted still had a grip on him. This, this was the more he'd been looking for, he wanted to kneel at Bastian's feet and confess his love, and at the same time, he wanted to fuck that man hard and deep, until he cried out Marcus's name.
Desperately needing to talk to someone, he found himself outside Kitty's shop. The door was unlocked, so he went inside. The raucous jangling of the bells no longer startled him, and he looked around at the tidy shelves filled with baskets of heat and light spells, the hollow glass globes that could be hung and lit with magic, or candles if one was in need of atmosphere rather than actually needing to see. So close to the artists' apartments, she of course had brush cleaners and protective sealers and preservatives. Coincidentally close by was a range of spells useful for the sexually active. Considering how many people Sebastian had carnal knowledge of, Marcus picked up a few of those and put them on the counter as he heard Kitty's soft footsteps descending from her rooms overhead.
Tonight, he would tell Bastian how he felt; he would allow himself to be seduced by Bastian's considerable charm. He smiled.
"Marcus! What a pleasure!" She beamed at him, then glanced at the counter. Her smiled turned into a grin and she propped her elbows on counter, resting her chin in her hands, and asked, "Something you wanna talk about?"
He grinned back. "Well. Bastian..."
"Finally got to you, did he?" Her eyes twinkled. "I mean it's not like you've been able to talk about anything else for days. Weeks."
"He doesn't use the common studio, doesn't like to have people watch him when he's working. But today, he invited me—I mean he asked me to pose, which isn't quite the same thing, but it was a privilege." To his dismay, his face heated up, remembering the way Bastian had painted right on his skin, bringing his face so close his breath had tickled.
"They say he has the Eye."
"Uh." Marcus blinked at Kitty, grateful she no longer told him how cute he was with every blush. He shrugged. "If it's a real thing, then he's got it, yes. I mean, that's why everyone flocks around him, isn't it? Hoping a little of his genius rubs off? He does teach, you know."
"Oh yes. Youngest Master ever. All the students come here, sooner or later. They talk to each other, forgetting I'm here. I know many things," she said in mock gravity as she tapped her temple. She threw another grin and wrote down his purchases.
"I don't need a receipt," he said, blushing again.
"It's for my inventory," she said. She looked up at him. "You blush so easily. I'm surprised you chose the correct spells."
"I didn't know that blushing was correlated to sexual experience. I'm just shy about my private life," he said, feeling the heat in his face and wishing he had the ability to force it away. Kitty was his friend, though, possibly the only real friend he had in the City of Dreams. "I feel, I've never felt like this before," he confided in a low voice. "I love him."
Her expression changed from gleeful to concerned. "Tread carefully there, Marcus. There are no spells to cure a broken heart."
He gave her a confident smile. "He has already given me more than he's given to anyone else."
Kitty remained serious as she took Marcus's money. "All I know is what I hear, and in the four years Moreaux has been here, from student to Master, he's never had any romantic entanglements, no sexual entanglements more than two nights. He's..."
"That is all a wall. To protect himself."
"From what?"
Marcus opened his mouth and closed it. "I don't know," he confessed, though the story Sebastian had told of Angelique crossed his mind.
She frowned and turned away, shaking her head. But when she looked at him again, she had an encouraging smile
. "I hope it all works out as you wish, Marcus."
*~*~*
Sebastian realized he'd been keeping all these lovely people at a distance since pursuing Marcus, so now he smiled and flirted, standing a little too close a little too long, so that everyone would know his bedroom was once more on a first come, first serve basis. There, clingy Marie, who thrust her tongue in his mouth. Not entirely welcome, but a nice reminder. And handsome Erik, staring at his groin and twitching his hands. Hmm, that might be welcome, later. Normally, all this close pressing of flesh and anticipation of sex had him already half hard, but not yet. Perhaps that would tell him who was to be the lucky one in his bed tonight. He smiled and ignored the heavy feeling in his chest that might be guilt or possibly fear. Ridiculous.
This was for the best. He deliberately blocked any thoughts that hinted otherwise. Better to get Marcus far away from him. He draped himself across his chair and let anyone who dropped their face to his kiss him. He even parted his lips for them, tasting salted nuts and warm wine and his own brandy in someone else's mouth.
A lull in the general level of conversation caught his attention and he pulled his head away from whomever he was kissing at the moment to look towards the door. Marcus stood there. He looked almost like an angel, dressed in a pale cream silk jacket and breeches, mint patterned waistcoat and white stockings that practically begged to be peeled off shapely legs. He was hard now, and forced himself not to look at the hurt on Marcus's face as he grabbed a hand at random and pushed it against his lust for Marcus, tipping his head back for a kiss from someone else.
But he couldn't let Marcus just leave, he had to make sure it was forever. So he broke the kiss and called out, "Sorry, Marcus, I just couldn't waste any more of my time on you."
Marcus froze, but did not turn around.
"It was a delightful game, though."
A wave of snickers arose and Sebastian ignored it. He'd been counting on their cruelty, but now he found it rather shallow.
*~*~*
City of Dreams Page 3