Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8976139.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shingeki_no_Kyojin_|_Attack_on_Titan
  Relationship:
      Marco_Bott/Jean_Kirstein
  Character:
      Jean_Kirstein, Marco_Bott, Eren_Yeager
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Historical, Renaissance_Era, Brothels, Period
      Typical_Attitudes, Period-Typical_Homophobia, References_Capital
      Punishment, References_Castration, Nudity, Explicit_Sexual_Content,
      Implied/Referenced_Underage_Prostitution, Prostitution, Spanish
      Inquisition_Era, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort
  Collections:
      JeanMarco_Gift_Exchange_2016
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-23 Words: 11628
****** Magnum Opus ******
by WanderingTiff
Summary
     Jean Kirschtein had become a lesser known painter during Renaissance
     Italy, mainly working for merchants that couldn't afford "nicer"
     artwork. After leaving Vienna, he found comfort in Florence, where
     his closeted sexuality was much easier to get away with and
     convictions were slightly less reinforced. However, he felt to
     anxious to carry out his desires, even in a place where it was a lot
     safer to.
     Lately he had been having dreams about this faceless man that ignited
     his loins and made his heart ache every morning that he woke up.
     Unable to take his urges any longer, he asks a friend to find a model
     for him so he can creatively release his desires in what he hopes to
     be the greatest paintings he'd ever produced. However, he gets a
     little more than what he bargained for when the model his friend
     chooses is a worker from one of the most infamous local brothels.
Notes
     Okay. What was supposed to be a sweet fic turned into something with
     a bit of dark subject matter mixed in. But I swear, it all pays off
     in the end.
     DISCLAIMER: None of the homophobic or discriminatory matters
     displayed by the minor characters and/or extras are my own thoughts
     or opinions. And despite the tags implying that this is during a time
     where you were put to death for sodomy in Renaissance Europe, there
     is no graphic imagery of violence/executions/torture/punishment/
     murder. And even with the tags showing that prostitution and the fact
     that the main character is referenced to have started his line of
     work underaged (16 to be exact), there is no implications or
     references of non-consensual sex or rape, neither from that past
     point nor the present. The worst of it is when a man robs him while
     he is plastered drunk.
     I understand the dark subject matter and the effect it may have on
     people, but I do not intend to display these thoughts in a malicious
     manner, and I have worked hard to create a piece that is as accurate
     as possible while also showing that even at a dark time such as this,
     there can still be a happy ending.
     I have very much enjoyed working on this piece, and despite how far
     I've gone with this work, I really hope you like what I've created
     for you, Lars!
When I was born into thelife I was intended to live, I did not expect that I
would spend a majority of it living in fear. Sure enough, everything leading up
to today, with my heart and mind set on placing my name onto the news and into
history, I had to face my fears and throw myself out there.
I lived in Vienna most of my life. My parents heavily enforced the regulations
of the Holy Roman Empire growing up, and I have done everything I could to make
sure that I stayed on their side. I know that they only wanted what was best
for me, but all of their efforts would be in vain if I reveal the worst of my
secrets to them.
I have never had relations with another man, but it has been something I’ve
longed to do ever since I reached adolescence. It was in my dreams, and it was
in my thoughts and fantasies. But there was something very wrong with my
desires.
For one thing, it has been outlawed for decades. I knew that there was a time
where being with people of the same sex wasn’t common but still practiced. From
what I’ve observed, it was the ruling of the Catholic Church that made the
ultimate decision for outlawing sodomy. No matter what kind of relationship you
had with another man—if you had relations with him—it was sodomy.
Some places have extremely harsh punishments for it. I heard that in France,
first and second offenses result in castration. Just the thought of any of the
men having to go through that makes me cringe. In most places, you were burned
at the stake, even if it was a single known offense.
I hope to never face that kind of torment, and it is a privilege to still be
alive under these circumstances.
I yearn for the day that when I do not have to fear my inner desires. But until
then, I’ve decided to keep everything repressed. I did not want my family to
face any kind of trouble if anyone found out about me. So when I was sixteen, I
moved away from Vienna and trekked to Italy, where I could expand my artistic
horizons. Little did I realize that in the city of Florence, there were many
people living here that were just like me.
There were men with other men—frequently, even. There were sections of town
where they could meet each other and have relations with one another with less
fear than they would have in a nation like France. That is a loose and quick
example that I often use.
This was a place where I felt comfortable to live in, even if I still did not
want to carry out my own desires and kept them internal. Despite the sanctuary
qualities compared to other cities, there were still convictions and
punishments carried out by Gli Ufficiali di Notte.They came to the brothels
where the promiscuous men dwelled, and they had them arrested. Lately, people
were getting better at hiding from them, making sure that their havens were
kept private.
One inn that frequently got broken into by them was Buco. If it weren’t for the
obvious innuendo title, I think that it would be a bit less of a target. But
even then, there have been places where men could hide. We were our own
secluded community.
I can see why this practice is more common in Florence than other places. Most
women here are bound by a dowry or already in an arranged marriage. And most
families keep their daughters absolutely pure until they are eloped. They do
this by keeping them indoors or not allowing them to have a prolonged amount of
contact with men. So for some, especially the older bachelors, it was an easier
consolation prize. But for people like me, men that long to be in a commitment,
it is rather difficult.
This is another reason why I still did not pursue any men. I often took more
time trying to find women to keep my urges repressed, but sometimes the fantasy
of another man is too great. Nothing was able to satisfy my thirst some nights.
I am a painter. My mother always appreciated my talent and worked to make sure
that I had enough supplies to better myself during my childhood. I appreciate
every gift that I got from her. It helped me grow more as a painter, which
became a trade worthy craft.
My painting craft took me places that I never thought I could go. None of my
art was good enough for the nobles to have in their gallery, but other
merchants were willing to buy my work to have a bit of culture in their homes.
I don’t mind the fact that I’m only regarded as just a cheaper version of
better painters. I take whatever expenses I can get. Nobles do not appreciate
my work and feel that it has no worth. Working classed or unskilled individuals
cannot afford my paintings. So the merchants and other artisans have been my
primary source of income.
I often have women from the working class model for me when potential buyers
want figures to display in their homes. I’ve gone to sex workers only on a
couple of occasions, since the women complained that I did not pay them enough
money. To be fair, they usually make seventy florins a night, and I can only
offer them five coins on the current budget I have.
I work with what I can, and I hope that one day it will be easier to create a
painting that will stand the test of time.
For now, I was in a stubborn block.
Everything I created was hideous. There was an awful and personal disdain I had
for my own work. The clients that come to me adore what they receive, but I
don’t see why they are so thrilled. All of it is rubbish. None of it satisfies
me. I would tear all my canvases to shreds if I could. I shouldn’t be handing
my clients these minimal excuses of art, but they enjoy it. Why am I so cynical
of my work?
What I refuse to face and realize is that there is a dark side of my mind that
wants me to pursue my internal desires. There is nothing to hold me back, it
says. I have nothing to worry about.If only that was true.
Gli Ufficiali di Notte always kept me on edge. The moment that I decide I want
to let everything go and follow my true instincts, I feel like I will fall into
their trap. I will be convicted. I will be tried. I will be put to death. Or
worse. I will be facing cruel torture or unusual punishments before they kill
me. It makes me awfully anxious when I think about these things. But I have to
face these urges sooner or later.
It all started a few weeks ago. On that particular night, I had a strange
dream. It will be the first time of many.
--
I find myself in the middleof a marketplace. And while I am walking, I can hear
someone from an inn singing with all their efforts challenged into one melody.
It is awkward when I first hear it, since the business from the shops around me
would surely drown it all out.
While I try and follow the voice, I find myself going through the halls and up
the steps to a room with an open door. It leaves me doubtful but curious,
especially since the voice softens the closer I go up to the door. I walk in,
and to my surprise, the man that had been singing from the bed in the center of
the room.
It’s a faceless man. It is weird to explain, but despite having a singing voice
and being able to express words and sounds, he has no face at all. His head
turns to my direction, and it startles me.
His body language registers as serene and tranquil, despite the frightening
imagery. I know he can’t physically look at me, but I feel like he is staring
right into my soul. He moves closer to me, and my heart begins to pound harder
in my chest. He takes my hand and starts to step back closer to the bed once
again.
I’d failed to mention that he is also completely bare. The bedding had been
covering him while he was singing and beckoning me from his bed, but while
standing up, he also looks like he has nothing to hide. It was as if he had
been waiting for me. As he cups my chin in his hand, I divert my eyes.
The idea of staring at a faceless man still scares me, ever so subtly. But his
strange hums sound so gentle and tender. He’s enticing me further under his
spell. I’ve never experienced this type of seduction. Not even in fantasy.
As the man sits down once again on the bed, he pulls me closer and helps me
undress. My instincts are moving my body for me, and everything becomes
involuntary. He pulls me closer to him. His body is so warm. He holds my head
in his hand, so that he can bring my face closer to his neck. Without me having
to ask, I realize that he wants me to kiss his neck. I do so, and the
mysterious yet arousing moans commence. I still don’t know where they have been
emitted from, or how this faceless man is able to create noises, but this is my
dream. The fantasy world and reality must have contrasting laws of nature.
I start to undress after he nods his head. He answers my internal questions for
me.
Yes. Touch me. Embrace me. Hold me. Take me.
I continue kissing his skin and give him more of myself. His legs begin to
spread, and I gently push his thighs further back.
Yes.
His moans and hums continue, and I reminisce to when he first sang at the
beginning of the dream. I want this feeling and arousal to continue. I hold his
girth and stroke him, and he continues to expose himself to me.
Touch me.
I start panting as I struggle to keep control. I pleasure him with conveniently
placed oil, realizing that this is still a dream. This is when I use my fingers
and feel inside of him. Despite not speaking a word, and just acknowledging me
with his vocalizations, I understand that he wants more. I understand that he
likes this. And I do too. Very deep down, I know that I had longed for this to
happen.
Embrace me.
The faceless man tilts his head back, allowing me to kiss along his throat. I
smile while giving him what he wants, what he needs, and what Iwant. I give
into my most inner desires for one night of intense thrills. I know he’s ready
for more of me when he takes my risks and halts my preparation. He grabs my
hands and takes them to hold my waist.
Hold me.
My breath grows hot and heavy as I hold him, knowing what is about to come. I
see his legs begin to quiver, and I hold him close as I slowly move inside him.
Take me…
We make love until the end of the dream. I didn’t want this to end, and even
before I could relish in our afterglow once the orgasm is over, this is when
the dream ends.
It ends here every single time.
--
This dream has been reoccurring forseveral weeks. I can’t take it anymore. I
look at my paintings in disgust. None of them show the expression and emotion
that I want them to. All of the feelings I felt during my dreams were genuine
and displayed what I’ve been wanting to do for so many years of my life. That
is where my most inner desires lie. Because of the repression of these urges, I
feel like I now cannot take it anymore.
Throughout my personal collection, I see different sketches of women posing
within different settings and stances, and most of them are commissioned from
better drafts of paintings. I cannot bring myself to deny my real emotions
anymore. It is very unfortunate, but I start to feel uncomfortable at the
thought of continuing to sketch and paint only women as models continues to
drag me down further into my horrendous block.
I need to broaden my horizons more. And no one will have to know that I have
these feelings for men while having them work for me as my models. Other
painters have them work for them all the time. It is nothing out of the
ordinary.
Later that day, I go to visit my friend Eren, who is a local innkeeper that
lives next to the Buco. I am hoping that he will help me find someone that can
work for me within the working class. He knows almost everyone in Florence.
“Hello, Jean!” he calls with a grin. “What an unexpected surprise.”
“I’m inquiring that I need your help,” I tell him without hesitation. “I am in
the middle of the worst downward slope of my artistic career, and I need better
inspiration.”
“Oh, is that so?” he presses. “What ails you?”
I am hesitant to respond to him, so I move further into his inn. I don’t want
any outsiders knowing about my secrets. I was dizzying enough realizing that
Eren was the only one that knew. I can’t bear the thought of someone finding
out and turning me in.
“I need a male model,” I tell him. “There is something that has been bothering
me—a dream. Every night for the past several weeks, I’ve had this one dream
where I’m with a faceless man. Every night. And in these dreams, he seduces me
and makes me do things that my heart longs for but my body cannot deliver. I
feel some sort of inspiration, but I can’t quite grasp it. And I’m hoping that
if I let out my emotions into this one painting.”
“Ahh, planning out your Magnum Opus?” he hums.
I blink in confusion. “Well, that’s not my intention.”
“If you’re already putting so much more time and effort into this one painting,
I think it is safe to say that this will be your greatest work. More people
will flock over and beg for more of your art!”
“Oh Eren, please,” I flush in embarrassment. “I just need you to find me a
model. Tell him that I will pay him twenty florins a day.”
“Can you even afford that?” he teases me.
“Of course not, but I am willing to give him anything for this piece. I need as
many assets as possible.”
“Sounds like a tall order… what’s in it for me?”
“Eren,” I frown. Despite the crazed question, I do think it over. “I’ll give
you a share. How does five florins sound for your services?”
“How about thirty?”
“Eren, you’re being unreasonable.”
“I find the talents for you, and it’s not easy to find a man that is willing to
work in that kind of condition. My minimum is thirty.”
I sigh heavily. “How about twenty? That’s as much as I’m paying the model for
every day that he works for me, after all.”
He raises a brow. “Twenty-five.”
“It’s a deal.”
We shake hands and go our separate ways. I’m not sure how long it is going to
take for Eren to find this model, but I am ready and willing to prepare for any
obstacles that go towards me. I am just hoping that this man will be easy to
work with.
“Easy” turns out to be a sore understatement.
--
It takes a week for Erento find a willing model. I wake up to a knock at my
door and drag myself to go down and answer. He’s right at the door, and the man
that he brings is wearing a hood to cover his face. It’s very suspicious, but I
let them explain themselves. Partially.
“Jean, this is Marco,” he tells me as he gestures to the hooded man. “He’s
willing to work for ten florins.”
“But I’d offered twenty,” I insist. “Wouldn’t you want to be paid more and not
less?” I ask the man.
“I do not deserve that much generosity for such a decent job, Master
Kirschtein,” he says in a hushed tone. “I am willing to work for less.”
“I’ll give you twenty regardless,” I tell him and allow the two of them to come
in. “It’s a pleasure to have you work for me, Marco. I’m sure Eren has told you
what this job requires you doing.”
“Of course,” he nods as we remain indoors. It is only then when he takes his
hood off to show his face.
He looks about my age. He is a lot more attractive than I expected him to be.
With his youthful face, kind, dark eyes, and a smile that’s pleasant to the
eye, he looks divine. I was about to ask why he kept his face hidden outdoors,
but that would be too rude of a question to ask an absolute stranger. Besides,
he doesn’t look like he has anything to hide.
“I don’t feel pressured. I don’t feel too worried about what comes of this
painting, either.” He looks at me and keeps the cloak wrapped around himself.
I give Eren his end of the deal. “Here you go. Twenty-five florins.”
“Thank you,” he grins and goes out to leave. But before he does, he turns to
face me. “Look after him.”
“Pardon?” I blink.
“No one can know that he’s here. Make up a name or occupation. Just make sure
that no one tries to blow his cover, okay?”
I still am rather confused, but I would do anything to help his friend. “I
promise. I will protect him, if that is what you would like me to do.”
“Thank you,” he smiles. “I will see you again very soon.”
“Of course.”
We say our goodbyes, and Marco is standing by my canvas and looking at my
sketches. I move closer to him and watch him. While I’m getting my books and
pencils ready, he still holds his cloak tightly against his frame.
“So Marco, I will be starting out with rough, figure sketches, which will
involve you being in different poses,” I start off while getting myself
situated. “After that, I will have a first draft in graphite, once I figure out
how I will set up my piece. This will all build up to my final paintings, which
I will have one in my personal collection, and then a second that I will sell
to the public. In total, this process will take about a fortnight.”
“Only a fortnight?” he questions and tilts his head. “You work rather quickly,
then.”
“That’s only an estimate,” I respond and get myself prepared. “I will be paying
you each day that you come in for your services. By the end of this, hopefully
you will be wealthy enough to buy yourself another cloak.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” he smiles and sits down. He takes the cloak off and
lets it go down on the bed on either side of him. He’s wearing these dirty rags
for clothing with tears and stains, and I can only assume that he is an
unskilled worker. “Let me know when you would like to start your sketches.”
I nod and set up my sketches. My graphite is ready, and I watch his whole body
relax. He looks sweet and gentle, and I observe his hands briefly. They don’t
look overworked or calloused, so I have a hard time believing that he is
unskilled. Then why does he have such poor attire?
“I’m ready now.”
“Okay.”
He stands up and starts to undress in front of me. I’ve never seen another man
undress in front of a stranger, but I strongly agree that other men would not
be this confident about it. If I was him, I would at least have a blush on my
face, or make an attempt to hide my body out of a small fear of embarrassment.
But not Marco. Not this strangely beautiful young man.
He is now exposed in front of me, and I’m more flustered than he ever would be.
There are some marks on his legs and hips, as if there was some form of a
scuffle, but I decide that it would be best if I don’t as questions.
“What type of position would you like me to go in first?” he then asks me after
a moment.
I swallow down a lump in my throat. “Y-yes, er… I would like you to have one
leg propped on the bed, the other on the floor… Yes, like that.” My face grows
darker at the sight of his body complying with the poses that I request. “Cross
your arms, look towards me… thank you.”
I am a professional. Even with the women that came in to model for me, I’ve
always kept everything on a professional basis. Of course, I plan to keep my
policy this way with Marco, and nothing will change that, but I find myself
thinking about it.
No. This is not the purpose of creating these images. I am supposed to be using
this as a creative outlet to deter my frustrations. I bring myself back into
focus so that I can work.
The process of these primitive sketches are very awkward. We find ourselves
just looking at each other in silence. I am a little embarrassed to draw his
entire body, especially when I tell him to do something more provocative.
He is unfazed, unashamed, and he is composed. I wonder if he has done modeling
like this before. It’s not uncommon, after all. It still raises these questions
in my mind.
I know that we are going to have to learn how to deal with each other better,
since he is going to be working for me for a fortnight. But the tension is so
high, especially for me. The only things that I tell him to do for the next two
days is to continue with the positions that I ask. We’ve decided a schedule of
two hours a day, which may lengthen the amount of time that he has to work for
me. But no matter. I will still pay him the twenty florins.
--
After those first two days, weare much more comfortable with the idea of
working with each other. Or rather, I am more comfortable. Marco has been
collective and well-spoken, whenever he decides to talk to me. It’s not very
often, since I’m the one that remains the quietest.
“You have an accent,” he says after a while. “Where are you from?”
“Austria,” I say as I sketch the position that he’s in. “I grew up in Vienna. I
moved here when I was sixteen. I’m twenty-three, now.”
“I see. I was born in Spain. My parents were there briefly before moving to
France. They traveled very frequently before then.” His eyes occasionally
focused all around different points of the room, probably to keep his attention
on something to keep himself still. “I’m twenty-four, by the way.”
“Funny, I honestly thought that you were younger than me,” I muse. “You look so
youthful, I thought you were no more than twenty.”
“Oh.” He smiles at me. “Well, how kind of you.”
“It’s no problem,” I nod. I then tell him to go into another pose. “So, I know
I’ve never asked much about you, because we’ve kept everything professional.
But I would like to know more about you. What is your occupation.”
He smiles at me cheekily. “I work with other men in an intensely intimate job.”
His statement doesn’t make any conclusions in my head. “Intimate? Like, you
work closely with these other men? I’m sure you’re skilled within your line of
work.”
His smile grows wider. “You’re a lot more adorable than I imagined.”
I blush. “Well, thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, Jean.”
From this point, he gives me these sweet smiles whenever we take breaks from
our jobs.
He is very compliant and relaxed, and when he is focused, his expressions are
serene. Other models constantly fidgeted or talked, but despite a few small
exchanges he was silent. I love working with him, and each sketch that I
conjure up brings up my confidence more and more.
He brings me further out of my comfort zone in the process. I have no problems
with this, and I am looking forward to more days working with him.
--
“So, I’ve come up with eightdifferent positions. What do you think?”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be just one painting?” Eren chuckles as we walk out of
his shop. “You’re starting up a huge gallery over here!”
“Oh, shush!” I frown as we walk near the Buco. “I wonder how they are able to
so easily get away with all this with The Officers of the Night around.”
“They haven’t been coming around so often lately,” he explains. “We’re still
careful, but not by much.” We are right at the threshold. “Would you like to
come in for a drink? I could use one right now.”
“I guess I need one, as well,” I shrug. “I have some gold on me.”
“Drinks on him!” Eren suddenly screams out to the men that are already in
there. They all cheer, and it causes me to blush.
“Eren, shut up!” I gasp and playfully nudge him aside. “He’s kidding,
gentlemen!”
“’Gentlemen?’ You’ve gone to the wrong inn!” I hear one of the male sex workers
cackle in the corner, while other men laugh along with them.
“I can use some of that gold, though!” another worker cries out, waving at me
anxiously while they’re still laughing. “Thirty florins for the whole package!”
“No thank you,” I sigh. “If I give gold to you, I feel inclined to give gold to
everyone.”
“Please do!” he begs in mock despair. We all can’t keep a serious tone for
long, and we laugh with each other once again.
“Yeah, yeah,” I tease as Eren and I drink together. I only have one, but Eren
enjoys himself beside me with more than three glasses. “I’m only planning on
selling one of these paintings, though. The rest of them should be in my own,
personal collection.”
“But that’s not profitable. You’ll need to make more money to buy more paint,”
he mumbles.
“Fine, maybe two of them,” I sigh and look around.
It’s crowded tonight, with men from all walks of life coming in to have a good
time. Most are older and hanging around with the younger, more flirtatious men
that are also there for the same reason. The brothel rooms will be full
tonight, that is for sure.
There is a couple in another corner of the inn that look like they have been
lewdly teasing each other. The younger man is sitting on the older one’s lap,
and it seems like they had already seen each other in a brothel room. He’s
being touched and embraced, and it makes me long for the same attention.
I can never go to someone in a place like this for affection and desire, out of
fear that I will be convicted. Then again, I can never see someone at a
brothel, because I am a hopeless romantic that longs for commitment. And I
wouldn’t have it in me to ask a man and buy services from him.
But while I am watching them, suddenly the older man stands up. He just pushes
the smaller one off his lap, and he just limply falls to the floor. I stiffen
while getting up to my feet.
“Hey! What happened here?” I rush over to help, but the older man just shrugs
me off.
“Don’t worry about it. Once you find one that’s drunk enough, you can just take
the money right out from their purse.”
“Wha-?” I try to confront him, but he’s already drifting off. “You bastard!
Give him his money back!”
“You really think that he deserves all this filthy money?” he frowns. “Florence
is a lot worse off than I thought.”
He’s not worth my time, as much as I would love to clench my fists and attack
him for those cold implications.
“Jean?”
I turn my head and hear that Eren is beside me. I am shocked to see that the
worker that was with the man was none other than a familiar face.
“Marco?” I gasp.
“Jean, help me get him up,” he sighs as he picks Marco up by the arms.
I kneel down to help him, holding him up. “That man robbed him.”
“Bastard,” he mutters and lightly slaps Marco’s cheek. “Marco, wake up.”
I watch in concern. He’s covered in fluids, and his clothing is torn even
further than before.
“I can’t believe they got to him tonight,” he frowns. “Sometimes the older men
choose a worker to roughen up, but usually they leave Marco alone.”
“You never told me that Marco works in a brothel.”
“It was never really a concern,” he sighs as he slaps his cheek again. “Marco!”
It all makes sense now! Of course! He’d be collective and unfazed by removing
his clothes. He must have been undressing in front of several different men for
a while! I honestly give him a lot of credit for being in this type of work,
because some of the older men, like Eren had implied, are disgusting around
here.
“He needs to get out of here.” He finds Marco’s cloak and uses that to cover
him. “Can you bring him back to your place?” he asks. “More men will just keep
taking money from him.”
“Oh, of course,” I nod. I take him into my arms. “He’ll be safe with me.”
“Thank you,” he smiles and stands up. “Don’t bring him back until he feels fit
enough to work again.”
“Understood.” I get out of the Buco and bring him back with me. As I’m carrying
him while hiding him under the cloak, he keeps drunkenly mumbling some garbled-
up nonsense in the process.
I let him rest on my bed for the night, and I stay on the floor. It is
uncomfortable, but he deserves the better rest. I don’t know the whole extent
of his labors, but any length of time in this line of work is strenuous.
--
The faceless man sings to meagain that night. I hurry to the inn from memory so
I can get into the room. Instead of the singing getting quieter as I approach,
the singing gets louder and more powerful. He sings with gusto, like he is more
than prepared for his audience to see him.
I stumble into the room, enticed by his voice. But when I observe him and allow
my body to go up to him, I am startled to find that this man now has a face. A
full face and such wonderful expressions as he is singing. And it’s not just
any face.
Marco is smiling at me and beckoning me closer onto the bed. His mantra of
seduction is just like every other night, and I fall for it every time. I
always give in, and with the formerly faceless man now having a face does not
make it any less different.
“Yes,” he giggles out in an echo once he stops singing, bringing me closer into
his embrace. “Touch me.”
I gasp as we finally kiss each other’s lips. Never in a dream have I been able
to kiss the faceless man, and now that it is happening, it’s dizzying. I hold
him and keep him close, even as my mind tries to return me to my senses.
“I can’t do this,” I warn. “I have to be professional.”
“You don’t have to be professional in a dream,” he chides. “Embrace me, Master
Kirschtein. Kiss me…”
I kiss him again, intoxicated by him. I don’t want to believe that these are my
most inner desires, but I choose to give into them. This is what I want.
“Hold me,” he gasps as his arms move to my back. My heart pounds. His voice is
so sultry.
I hold him as close to my body as humanly possible. I live for his touch. He
starts to laugh as I touch him more, seeing that he feels rather ticklish. I
grin and continue, holding him as he spreads his legs for me.
“Take me.”
--
I wake up at sunrise the next morning, before anything else can happen after
that. I have to clear my head before he wakes up. I go through the different
sketches and stills that I have drawn thus far of Marco. I’ve narrowed my
gallery down to about five, adding two more of them to my list. The first
sketch was of him with his cloak looped over his shoulder and positioned in a
regal stance.
I think I will give this finished painting to Marco. He might really like this
one. I don’t know where he will be able to put it, but I want this to be a
present from me to him. I begin my light sketches in graphite, and as I am
shading, I hear Marco finally waking up.
“Good afternoon, Marco,” I call while I’m still at my station.
He’s sitting up and looking at me. “How did I get here?” He sounds so pained,
probably from the intoxicated night he had earlier. “God, I’m so sore.”
“I found you at the Buco. This older man robbed you while you were drunk and
unconscious, and he made it look like the two of you were courting.”
“Christ…” He covers his face after rubbing his head. I watch him start to grow
more upset. He looks at me for a long while. “Why did you bring me back here?”
“You need time to recover,” I say. “I’ll never understand how much exhaustion
you go through in this line of work, but I know that you need some rest every
once in a while.” I smile at him. “Do you make a lot of money?”
He lets out a dry chuckle and wipes his eyes. “Funny. I thought that you’d
start shaming me by now. That’s what most people would do.”
“Well, I don’t shame women for working in brothels. So why would I shame men?
It’d be hypocritical for me to do so. But you didn’t answer my question,
Marco.”
“I don’t get paid as much as I thought I would here in Florence,” he confesses.
“But it’s enough to make a living. But I give most of my money to Eren.”
I’m confused. “Why do that?”
“It’s the least I can do for him. He’s harboring a fugitive, after all.”
“Fugitive?” I gasp. “You’re a fugitive?”
“In a way, yes,” he sighs. “It’s a long story.”
I stop working on my sketch and move closer at him. “I don’t mind listening.”
He takes a nervous breath in. Eren is probably the only one he’s told his story
to. I can understand his tension, and I almost feel honored that he trusts me
enough with these truths.
“I was orphaned at age thirteen. My parents passed from sickness, so I had to
fend for myself. I needed to make a living somehow. I did anything just to get
food or shelter. It started out with labor and chores for the merchants, and I
made some money for food to do that. But when I was sixteen, I went into a new
line of work. That was when I started selling myself for sex, along with the
labor work. But when I was seventeen, I ran into trouble with the law.”
He pauses, probably to gather his thoughts. But this hesitation lasts too long,
and I notice that he is starting to feel tense again.
“What happened?” I ask gently.
He sighs. “I had relations with someone that I really shouldn’t have. The
brother of a royal guardsman in France. There were warrants out for my arrest.
Because I was younger, they planned on a harsh punishment for me to keep me
from doing it again: They were going to castrate me.”
“My god…” I frown, cringing at the mere thought. “I don’t blame you for leaving
France then.”
He nods sadly. “I fled to wherever someone could take me in, but I kept having
to go from place to place when my cover kept getting ruined. It wasn’t until I
moved here in Florence when I finally felt safe.”
I can understand why. And now I realize why he always kept himself covered when
out in public. I realize why it has been so important. If any officials found
him, he will be put to death on the spot. The very thought breaks my heart.
“Eren found me and took me in, giving me my essentials. And I just went to work
at the brothel so that I could pay him off.” He’s no longer crying or worked
up. I suppose talking about it for a while helped him relax. “I don’t have any
special skills, like you do. No trade, no craft… But I enjoy what I do. It
seems more like a pastime than a job. What makes me like it more is the sheer
fact that not everyone can handle it. It makes me feel kind of strong for being
in involved in something like this. But sometimes it gets tiring. It’s dirty,
and people look at me with such scorn, but I can handle it. They’re just words
and glares. None of that would ever truly hurt me.”
He lies back on the bed. I can tell by his body language that he is still
exhausted.
I move closer and sit down on the bed. “Well… if it makes you feel any better,
I think that what you do with your life is your business, Marco. And if you’d
like… maybe I can help you find a craft? It’s never too late to learn how to
paint.”
He smiles at me. “Thank you, but I’m hopeless.”
“So am I,” I shrug. “I guess we’re even, in that regard.”
This makes him laugh. He has such a sweet-sounding laugh. It makes me smile
more.
“I guess so. Now, that makes me feel a little better.”
“Good,” I grin. “Oh. I’ve set up the different sketches I need to start my
paintings. So, our work is almost done.”
“Really?” he frowns. “I’ve really enjoyed working with you.”
“I’ve enjoyed it very much, as well,” I nod and watch him. “But we can still
see each other again.”
He nods. “You know… I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure out
that I was a sex worker. I thought it was obvious.”
I gasp and grow flustered. “I didn’t think anything of it, Marco! I thought you
were just really confident!”
He laughs at me and uses his cloak to shyly hide his face.
“You’re laughing at me,” I pout and move closer. I move my hands to his sides,
which makes him laugh more.
“Jean, that tickles!” he gasps and laughs.
I move the cloak away from his face, not realizing how close we are to each
other. We make eye contact for a couple moments while Marco relaxes his
breathing. He leans up further into our linkage, making my heart skip a beat.
“Jean…” Our faces are so close to touching. “Have you ever been with a man?
Sexually?”
I gulp at hearing the question. “No. I’ve been too afraid to.”
“Don’t be,” he says gently and smiles at me. “Even if you do it just one time,
it will set you up for the rest of your life.” He holds me and pulls me closer
to him.
I start to shrug away. “A-as much as I’d love to, I can’t right now. I just
want you to rest today. And I don’t have enough money to give you for
services.”
He frowns. “I don’t want you to give me money for this. Please,” he insists. “I
want to give you a special discount for life: a lifetime supply of service
absolutely free.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” I grin and rub his arm. “Maybe I will consider.
After you get some rest.”
“Okay,” he huffs and turns on his side, still facing me. “You and Eren are the
nicest men I’ve ever met. And you are the sweetest.” He giggles as he still
looks at me, and I suppose that it’s because he sees me flushed with flattery.
“Thank you very much,” I chuckle and take his hand. I hold it and gently kiss
it. “If you ever need me, I am never too far away.”
He grins. “I’m so comforted.”
I look at him. “As much as I would love to engage with you further, I have one
golden rule about working with models. I have to remain professional and not
pursue further contact during our business partnership.”
“Awww, such a pity,” he pouts as we still hold hands. “If it’s in the brothel,
we’re not in your professional space.”
“Marco,” I groan and kiss his hand again. “I’ll be counting down the days, even
if I want to do it now.”
“How about if you look at it as a professional exchange?” he then asks cutely.
“You’ve been paying me for services. So in return, I can pay you with… my body?
Because I’m offering free services for life?”
“You really aren’t as suave about your attraction as I thought you would be,” I
tease him.
“Well, you’re a bloody tease!” he pouts and looks at me with these huge, brown
eyes.
I smile at him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I guess if you put it that
way, I suppose I can agree with you and give you a kiss to start off.”
“You will?” he grins. He then exaggerates his hug by wrapping his body around
me. I laugh at this display of affection. “My, my, I feel so honored to have
the pleasure of giving you these special services, Master Kirschtein! I’m so
grateful to have you as my guardian!”
“Guardian?” I laugh and nuzzle his hair. “I don’t deserve that kind of
position.”
“Well, you are my guardian, Jean.” He smiles at me. “I would appreciate it very
much if you were to give me a kiss. But if you want to keep everything
professional while we are both here, I will respect your decision.”
“Thank you, Marco,” I nod. “I think I can give you just… one kiss, before we
have to resume our professional relationship in this setting. I think that will
heighten up the excitement for when we finish our partnership with these
paintings.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” he grins and moves on top of me so I can lie
on his back.
I hold his shoulders and stay close to him as we give each other a slow, sweet
kiss. My first real kiss with a man. It feels as if I’ve risen to the stars. We
kiss and hold one another, our hands already curiously running our hands over
our bodies. I can’t imagine anything better than this.
My lips part to tilt our heads further into the kiss. His teeth nibble on my
lower lip, and I gasp while he helps encourage this lewd embrace. He keeps
close to me for a while, even after we pull away.
Marco smiles, running his hands through my hair. I kiss him again, much lighter
than the first. I feel so liberated, now that I’ve finally given into my
temptations.
“Now,” he coos as he nuzzles my nose. “Come to me any time, okay? I’ll be
waiting for you, Jean.”
“Of course,” I smile. “I’ll be giving you a lot more pleasure than you expect.”
He blinks and nods while still giving me his pleasant smile. “Okay. I’ll see
you then.”
“Now rest,” I grin, getting up from the bed. “That’s why you are here, after
all.”
“Okay, Jean,” he smiles and snuggles back into the bed comfortably. He yawns
while I work once again on my rough drafts.
I look back and forth from the art to Marco. He lights up my world, and my
heart yearns for more of his embrace, more of his touch, and more of his love.
It brings a smile onto my face. I don’t know why I waited so long, but I’m glad
that I did. Because if I started a relationship too soon, I never would’ve
gained this interest in Marco. He is the only one that I would love to be in a
commitment with. I just hope that he feels the same way that I do.
--
The exterior of the brothel givesoff a welcoming vibe. But of course, once I
get inside it has a lot less of an appeal to it. I hear different couples
around the inn, and I feel a little nervous. What if Marco is seeing someone
right now? I’m not sure if I’ll feel comfortable waiting out here with the
older men that are looking for someone to spend some money on.
I find the innkeeper and tell him that I would like to meet with someone
specific. As a result, he guides me to the room.
I feel like the route that we are taking is all too familiar. It’s as if I’ve
learned this from memory. Maybe it is the fact that I’ve imagined a walkway
similar to this in my dreams; the dreams with the faceless man. I hope Marco
still is willing to accept me coming into his workplace. Either way, I plan to
make sure he feels comforted while with me.
It has been about a fortnight. We’ve prolonged our time together, aware that
once it was over, we’d have to resume our normal lives and see each other less
often. At least, I hope that it wouldn’t have to be that way. I’m hoping to
convince him tonight, actually.
The innkeeper leaves me alone once we stop outside of the room. I hear moans
and grunts coming from inside the room, knowing that he is with a client right
now. But I remain patient, despite my instantly flustered response. I cover my
face and lean against the wall. Would my entrance be too unexpected if I come
in as soon as the client leaves?
Eventually I hear the man come. I don’t hear Marco make noises after that. It
confuses me, but I’m sure that he’s going to explain it to him when he gets in.
The man exits the room and is still fixing his clothes. He finds me standing
there beside the door and gives me this smirk.
“He’s fantastic,” he tells me before walking away.
Most of the men that come to these brothels are slimier than rats, and I think
that I’ve just come face to face with one of them. He better not have hurt
Marco’s feelings.
I lightly knocked on the door before stepping in the room. There’s this potent
smell in here, supposedly from after a long night of work. His bed is in the
back corner of the room, with sheets spread out on the bed and over Marco’s
frame. He hears me come in and perks up his head. He’s wiping his eyes.
“Just give me a moment,” he hums, and I see him drying his eyes. He focuses
more, and I suppose he now realizes that it’s me. His face lights up. “Jean?
What are you doing here?”
I smile and move closer. “I’ve decided to share my services with you. And I
would like to give you an invitation.”
“An invitation for what?” He sits up. The sheets slide down from his shoulder,
onto his lap. It’s the only thing covering his naked body.
I clear my throat after a bashful pause. Despite seeing his body many times, I
feel as if I’m looking at him for the very first time on each occasion. “I’m
close to finishing my gallery. And I would like you to look at it before I try
and submit it. Would you do me the honor of coming back to my place to see
them?”
“Would I?” he gasps. “Of course! I was your model in these paintings, after
all.” He giggles and quickly jumps up to loop his arms around me.
He’s sweating, but I don’t mind holding him. My hands remain on his back as he
laughs, and I feel him kiss my cheek. I can tell that he likes his job, and
seeing him happy is all I care about.
Marco looks at me once we pull away from each other. “Oh Jean, do you just so
happen to be here for something else?” He raises a brow as he grins. “Maybe,
something to fulfill both our ends of the bargain?”
“Yes,” I smile and give him a kiss. “My work is almost complete, so I would
love to take up your offer. A free night.”
He’s always in bliss when he is around me, and I can see it in his eyes. We
kiss each other again, and I hold him close in my arms. He pulls me further
into the bed so that he is lying on his back. I rub his body, causing him to
hum. It’s a lot more intimate now that I’m undressed. I’ve memorized this from
my dreams. I can’t help but have a suspicion that maybe he doesn’t want to do
this, but maybe it is just an anxiety issue.
We are both naked together now, and we look at each other’s bodies. He’s so
beautiful, and I adore the way he looks.
“Are you hesitant?” he asks gently. “Don’t worry. I don’t have the French
disease.”
“I’m not worried at all,” I insist, although hearing that is reassuring. “I’m
just admiring your beauty.”
He starts to laugh again. “You’ve seen my body all the time, Jean.”
“Yes, but not like this.” I hold him and look at his girth. It’s sprung up for
me to touch, and I stroke him rapidly. It causes him to squirm underneath my
touch. “Did that man bother to relieve you?”
He shakes his head with a breathy chuckle. “Most of them don’t. It’s
frustrating.”
I smile at him. “I’ll take care of you.”
He pulls me closer by the back of my head as we kiss each other again. His aura
keeps pulling me in closer like a sweet ambrosia. I can’t get enough of him.
He starts panting as I’m stroking him. He moves down to grab my wrist, making
me pause.
“How would you like me to perform?” he asks softly. He speaks like he has had
this rehearsed for years. “I can be loud or quiet. You can make me take it
rough or gentle. I can fulfill your most inner desires.”
These statements cause me to jolt. My most inner desires. Once heard out loud,
it doesn’t sound romantic at all. I realize now. It’s not about what I want.
It’s about what wewant. Me and my partner. Together. It must be our most inner
desires. That is what I have been missing all along.
“No,” I tell him gently. I see he didn’t expect a basic response. “I think I
should be asking youthese questions. How would you like me to perform?”
“Oh.” For the first time, I see that he is flustered. His face is all red, and
he looks adorable. “You really want to know that?”
“Of course,” I smile. “Have any of these men before me thought about what you
might’ve wanted? Anything you want, I’m sure I can do it for you.”
He gives me a gentle smile and helps me undress. “Anything, Jean. I would not
be disappointed by anything you choose to do. Because I want you.”
More heat rushes to my face, and I feel it rush into my groin, as well. The
only option that I feel is absolutely necessary is making sure that he got
exactly what he deserved to feel.
I smile down at him. “Then I shall.”
I hold his thighs and kiss him lower down his body. I feel his hands start to
shake while he’s caressing the back of my hair. His hums of approval overwhelm
me. I crave for more of him. I taste his skin on my tongue as I lick his cock.
There’s still a thin layer of sweat on his body, but I don’t mind it.
Marco gasps and squirms more underneath me, and I look up at him as he pulls my
hair. Through these actions, he encourages me to keep going. I hold his waist,
and his thighs squeeze around me as I bob my head. I hear his moans and whines,
and I keep up my motions with my mouth.
“Y-yes, it’s so good!” he whimpers and grips my hair.
The sting in my scalp encourages me further. I try and take more of him without
gagging, but I stroke whatever I can’t fit. He clings tighter to me, and his
higher whines indicate that he’s close to his release. I hold him tighter ad
keep sucking.
A sudden shock of hot liquid fills my mouth and goes down my throat as he
comes. He comes hard, and I take it all, tasting him and stroking his thighs.
“Ohhh, Jean…” he purrs underneath me.
I’ve never felt so happy to have broken a law in my life.
We make eye contact with each other as I swallow. He smiles, and I bashfully
move up to hold him. His body wraps around me and clings to me so that I stay
close. He kisses me, and it’s like his hand is glued to my head as he keeps
stroking my hair and lightly scratching my scalp.
“Thank you.” Marco smiles as we kiss each other again. “You’re the best lover I
could ever ask for. I’ve haven’t felt this special in so long.”
I grin, holding his hand and squeezing it in between my fingers. “It’s been a
pleasure.” I kiss the back of his hand. “I’d love to do this all the time.”
“We can,” he insists gently. “Sure, I am working here in the brothel, but I can
still see you.” He smiles at me. “Please, Jean? I will always keep in touch
with you.”
I nod gently. “Of course. I will keep in contact the best I can.”
“That sounds wonderful,” he grins and kisses me.
We suddenly hear panicked screaming outside. My heart begins to race.
“Ufficiali di Notte!”
My blood runs cold.
“Oh no,” Marco gasps. “Hide! They’ll be up the stairs any minute!”
“Hide where?” I panic.
“Here!” He now speaks in whispers. He points to under the bed.
I give a quick nod and hide deep under the bed. It’s frigid cold down here
without my clothes on, and as soon as I realize the error, my arm hurries out
to grab my clothes. Meanwhile Marco throws old drapes over himself and clumsily
hides beside the bed on the floor. This is a weird thought that comes to my
attention during this time of peril, but the drapes are the same color as the
cloak he always wears. An odd observation, but it’s something to keep my mind
off of this for a small while. He uses more blankets to make it look like a
haphazard pile.
I hold my breath as the officers break the door down. I cover my mouth to keep
myself from breathing. There are three of them in the room, tearing through to
look for people that are hidden. I feel my eyes watering from the fear, and my
heart still thunders in my chest.
One of the officers kicks the curtain sheets aside, and I begin to pale. I hope
to god they don’t find him under there! But from inside the sheets, there is no
fidgeting and no movement from underneath. He must’ve hidden like this several
different times before.
“No one in here,” one of the officers mutters. “Let’s go.”
“Next room,” says another.
Eventually they leave the room and rush down the hall. I don’t move a muscle,
fearing that they will come back and find us. Marco stays frozen, as well.
I hear some pleas and panicked crying from another room, and I hold my breath
again. They’re being forced down the steps. I know exactly what is going to
happen to all of them.
God, I feel horrible. The officers stay here for about an hour, and after
scoping out the place, they’ve brought five men with them before leaving the
premises.
Those poor men. I don’t want to think about what will happen to them.
“Jean. It’s okay.”
I look up. He has a mark forming on his thigh where the guard had kicked him.
“They come all the time. But the best thing that we can do is enjoy life while
we’re living,” he insists gently. “That’s a lesson I’ve learned after a while.”
“B-but Marco, those men!” I start to cry as he holds me tightly.
“I know,” he whispers in my ear as we keep close to one another. “I have a
strong belief that they will be able to find peace soon.”
We look at each other, and he brushes his lips against mine slowly. I don’t
feel as liberated as I did earlier.
“Jean… do you know how often I regret leaving France? I often consider myself a
coward for running away from the law.” He wipes his eyes. “I know that what I
did was selfish. But you know what? I think it will be the ultimate revenge to
escape from their grasps and rebel against their laws. That’s why we all
protest by expressing our love for each other.” He smiles at me. “One day, I
know that future generations and people of all walks of life will be able to
freely express themselves, without fear of death. And we can help make that
future happen. So even if I don’t fight for our own lives, I will be fighting
for theirs.”
I hold his hands, and I’ve finally stopped crying while listening to him. He
opens my eyes more.
“You know how to really give the ultimate revenge?” I then ask him.
“How?”
“Don’t hide yourself in public. Show your face,” I smile. “If you were supposed
to be arrested in France, they would’ve gotten you by now, right? Plus, it’s
been seven years.”
I look at him. “You know what? You’re right,” he smiles. “Why didn’t I think of
that before?”
We both relax while in each other’s embrace. I’m never going to suppress my
sexuality again. I’m never going to let them win. I am with Marco now, and with
him by my side, we will continue to fight this system for as long as we live.
--
It was a little scary forMarco to go outside without his cloak covering
himself. I’d given him spare clothes to wear in public to help make him fit in
among the merchants and traders. The first couple of times, Marco couldn’t walk
around without repeatedly looking all around him to see if he was safe. But
after a while, he overcame his anxieties and felt a lot better.
He got to my home on his own, and when I let him in, he has a smile on his
face. I take him up the steps. Today he is here to see my finished gallery. The
first couple images right when he walks in is erotic poses I’ve done. These are
going to stay in my personal collection, and I plan on selling them in a few
years.
“Oh my,” Marco hums, and I see the blush on his cheeks. “I think these are my
favorite.”
“Those are only the first two,” I laugh. “I feel like you’ll like the rest of
them.”
“Okay,” he grins and looks at more of them.
I have another couple of paintings for him to see. Almost all of these images
involve Marco looking graceful and peaceful. I plan on selling these.
“Wow…” he smiles. “I’ve never thought of seeing myself as graceful.”
I move closer to him. “I hope you start seeing yourself that way, now.”
He gives me a kiss and keeps close. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper and rub his back. “There’s still one last painting
I want to show you.”
“Really?” he smiles and kisses me again. “But you already have four of them.
These are all incredible.”
“This last one is just for you,” I smile. “It’s a gift.”
“Why, Master Kirschtein! You’re spoiling me rotten!” he giggles and holds me
tightly.
“You still haven’t seen it yet.” I squirm away from him and grin as I hurry to
set the finished painting on the easel. “Ready?” I have a cloth over it to keep
it a surprise.
He nods anxiously. “Yes! I can’t take the suspense!”
I grin and remove the cloth. It’s the painting I’d planned of Marco looking
regal, almost like a noble. I’ve depicted him in his most confident expression,
in both his face and his body language. I have the sheets over him, like when
he was first positioned while sketching the draft.
Marco sees the painting, and the look on his face pulls at my heart. His eyes
water, and he hurries to move close to me. I hold him tightly and kiss him.
“I love you.”
My heart races once again, and I’m flushed already. “I love you too, Marco.”
We kiss each other more, and in between I wipe his tears away. He brings me
down to the bed once we both feel that we’re near it. I stumble a bit, and he
laughs at my clumsiness.
“Now that our professional work is over… can we make love, Jean?”
“Yes.” I say that without any hesitation.
I hold him while Marco lies down on his back. He brings me further into his
embrace, and I kiss his lips again. It’s so satisfying to succumb to my
addiction; to taste his lips on my own and to touch his bare skin. I love him
so much.
Shivers run down my spine. We undress more, and I rub his body. I grab some
olive oil that I’d bought in preparation for this occasion.
“I don’t want to be kept waiting,” he croons in my ear, and it chills me to
hear the sensuality in his voice.
I love him so much.
He keeps his legs spread for me, and his legs bend back. I get the most
gorgeous view.
“You’re beautiful,” I hum. I keep complimenting on his looks, and each time
that I do he grows flustered. And because of this, I will never stop praising
him for them. His bashfulness is amplified whenever I compliment his humor and
charm.
I make sure my fingers are as slick as possible, and he’s gnawing on his lip
while watching me with a grin. I kiss his knee and rub his thigh, and soon I
start to properly prepare him. I feel an intense heat from inside of him that
makes me gasp. I stretch him open with two fingers.
Underneath me, Marco rides against my movements and moans. He’s so vocal and
sweet, and I give in to his whimpers and keens by pleasuring him more with my
hand. He encourages me with his whines, he entices me with the way he calls for
me, and every sound that slips from his lips sends twitches down to my groin.
This is much better than I ever could have imagined.
When I pull my fingers out, he looks at me with such a pitiful frown. He pulls
me close while his fingernails dig into my shoulders.
“Please don’t stop,” he whimpers. I think he’s expecting me to leave him
without giving him more attention. I understand why. A lot of the rats at the
brothel almost always leave him hanging.
I lean close to him and kiss his lips. “Don’t worry,” I assure him gently. “I
won’t.”
He smiles gently and kisses me again. “Thank you.”
We nuzzle each other’s noses. “I was able to buy protection from Eren. The skin
is a little hard to work with, but thankfully it fits.”
“I don’t need it,” he assures him. “If there is one man that I want to feel his
love inside of me, I want it to be you.”
I feel honored. I hold him and get ready to position. He looks so relaxed
underneath me, just like when he’d pose for me in paintings. I adore him.
I love him so much.
I tell him that as I push inside of him. Time suddenly stops. The heat, the
tightness… It’s so overwhelming! But incredible. And Marco’s letting out more
moans. He holds me tightly, and I feel his legs wrap around me.
“So warm,” I gasp out and kiss him.
Our breathing synchronizes as we look at each other. I have to give myself a
moment just to relax. He helps me, but I’m now worried that I will never be as
good as the men that he had already been with. I’ve never done this before.
Marco holds my hand, and we intertwine fingers. We smile, and we kiss each
other as I finally bring myself to move.
My hips roll in and out, and I can’t hold back my breathless moans. I’m in such
bliss. He feels amazing! And I can hear that he loves it, too. Thank god. He
encourages me with kisses along my face and my neck. I give in to him further,
and his worship helps me feel more confident.
“Yes…” He whimpers from his parted lips, flushed from head to toe. “J-Jean,
yes! Ahh!”
We hold each other, and his hips rock back against my gyrating hips. His moans
get louder and louder, and I’m struggling to breathe.
I kiss him hard and move harder inside him. Marco’s crying out against my lips,
and our tongues meld together. I love him so much! It’s so hot and heavy, and
everything’s getting hotter and tighter. It soon feels like fire. I don’t think
I can wait to finish, but I keep holding on. I want him to feel the full extent
of an amazing climax before I can even think of coming.
Marco knows that I’m close. I guess he can see it on my face. He gives me an
ecstatic grin and takes my wrist, moving my hand down to his cock.
“P-please touch me,” he pants. “Please. I-it’ll help me come — mmm!”
I stroke him rapidly and hold his hand tightly. Our knuckles are turning white
while we move together and help each other. The way our skin slaps as I thrust
and how Marco’s moans increase in volume and intensity with each slap makes me
feel even closer.
Marco tightens even more around me. His body arches, and I know he can’t hold
on any further.
This is it.
His whole body clings to me tightly as he comes. I hear his cries and screams
of ecstasy, and his spray gets over the two of us. This white, hot, wonderful
mess brings me over the edge after just six final thrusts. I almost fall on top
of him while I come. It’s far too tight, and I quickly pull out during my
release.
There are tears in my eyes, and my vision whites out in a flash. We breathe
heavily together while relaxing from our orgasms. None of us have to say
anything further. This has been the best experience of my life. I can barely
bring myself to speak.
We kiss each other hard once again as we both relax.
“I love you so much,” Marco whines as he nuzzles further into my shoulder.
I hold him in my arms and smile at him. “I love you too, Marco.”
We kiss again. I’m so exhausted.
Marco closes his eyes and rubs his back. “You were incredible,” he giggles.
I blush and kiss his hair. “Thank you.”
“Mm.” He tilts his head up so I can kiss him once more. “Time for a brief
slumber.”
“Sounds good to me,” I smile.
We pull the sheets over our bodies to keep warm.
“Sweet dreams, beautiful,” I whisper to him.
“You too, my love…”
I hear him start dozing off. While I’m still awake, I reflect on the past
couple of months. This has been the greatest time of my life. A perfect end to
the process of creating my Magnum Opus. And now I can spend all the time in the
world with the man that still makes me feel like every day is the first day of
my life.
And we will always keep fighting the good fight, beyond my painting trade and
beyond his line of work. We will get through anything that the world throws at
us together.
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