“Aw, I think I’m in love now. Your accent sounds so nice,” Bob said and leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Laurent’s.
“In love with me? That’s just plain silly!” But a shiver of pleasure made Laurent’s insides flutter.
“You think I’m joking, but I never met anyone like you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you since you entered, but I guess I was a bit shy to approach you at first.” Bob sighed and slowly put his hand above Laurent’s knee.
Instantly, the memory of Beast touching him this way, of the thumb slowly tracing his knee, was like an interference Laurent couldn’t get rid of. “You do understand I… don’t sell pleasure, right?”
Bob grinned. “What? Why would you say that? I just wanted to ask you to model for me, but the conversation is turning out really great too.”
“Because I was told my outfit might suggest I am of loose morals. But I’m happy that you don’t see it to be so. How would I model for you? Do you want to paint me?”
“Like one of my French girls.” Bob laughed and Laurent joined in, but he wasn’t sure why it was so funny. He did want to oblige though, and he assumed that the joke had something to do with his accent.
“That sounds exciting.”
Bob licked his lips, watching him with a dark glint in his eyes. Laurent’s skin itched for closeness, and he dared a glance at Bob’s lips.
“So, would you like to model for pictures? We could do a trial in one of the rooms available to guests.”
Laurent cocked his head. “You have all you need for with you?” Maybe in the future easels and paints expanded from tiny objects? He’d watched so many movies in the last weeks, asked his friends so many questions, and yet so much still escaped his grasp.
“All of it,” Bob said and slowly pulled himself up before offering his hand to Laurent.
Hesitantly, Laurent slipped his fingers into the clammy palm. “I would love to see more of your work.” He entwined their fingers with his heart in his throat from the stress of it all. Since the first time he’d made an attempt to bed a man, every romantic interaction had been a disaster. Could this one possibly break the bad spell? Bob seemed genuinely nice and non-threatening. Besides, he was an artist, a sensitive soul by definition.
Bob stroked Laurent’s hair with his other hand and pulled him toward the doors Laurent knew led to a whole array of rooms with just mattresses in them. Earlier that day, he’d helped make them presentable, because the party guests were free to use them.
“Will you have enough light in there?” he asked in case Bob actually wanted to paint, though he was positive they would kiss instead, and who knew what else would happen once passion arose.
“I think we might just get to know each other better first. It will allow me to capture your personality better once I start painting.”
Laurent smiled to himself and squeezed Bob’s hand, increasingly nervous as they walked out into the empty corridor where music was only a dull sound. “I would like that.”
Once the doors shut behind them, the sense of apprehension curled around Laurent’s insides, giving him an unexplainable urge to run. But he couldn’t run from his true needs forever. He couldn’t just wait. He was a man in this new world where men could freely be together, and he needed to reach out for the things he wanted, not expect them to fall into his lap.
The doors opened again so rapidly they smacked against the wall. Bob glanced over his shoulder, squeezing Laurent’s hand.
Beast was approaching in rapid strides, his face as tense and marred with cruelty as it had been a week ago when he had grabbed Laurent by the throat. What had Laurent done wrong though? Had Beast been waiting for Laurent to leave the dancing hall to punish Laurent for daring to speak to him after being explicitly told not to?
“Where are you taking him, huh?” Beast growled, showing his teeth in a snarl reminiscent of Hound. The massive, tattooed hand landed on Bob’s shoulder with such finality Bob seemed to melt under it.
“I… Is this a problem?” Bob raised his eyebrows. “I was just—”
Laurent grabbed Beast’s wrist. “He was just going to paint me. There’s nothing questionable going on.”
“Paint you?” Beast practically spat it out like a dirty word and shook Bob, who let go of Laurent’s hand and curled his shoulders.
“Beast, come on. I’m not doing anything illegal.”
Laurent nodded quickly, eager to protect his new friend from the sudden threat. “Yes, he said he’ll paint me like his French girls. I guess that would mean I’d be the first French boy he paints. No wonder he wants to do the initial sketches already.”