#marcel beaumont

[emeraldbabygirl]

I HAVENT PEGGED HIM AT ALL UGH his storyline is so fun and sexy tho ahhh I love romancing these fake men they are so sexy and sometimes the small details like the kissing or hand holding makes me bust a phat cum🅱️ uwu

[corpstupous]

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[slashfictions-blog]

Lucas Willow

My name is Lucas Willow, I'am a writer and a painter though I'am mainly known for my paintings. The year was 1881 in London England, the year of my 21st birthday, the year everything around me changed.

I guess I could start from the very start, I was born, I grew up. But that isn't important at the moment. It was March 29th three days away from my birthday, I was in my small apartment painting, I had a commission from a family to paint their daughters for their 17th birthday next month, pretty little things no older than 16, twins. They both had blond ringlet hair, their skin was like porcelain, they were wearing matching dresses one was wearing a pale purple dress which had a dark silk sash around the waist, frills coming from the short poofed sleeves and from the hem of the dress, the other was wearing the same dress just a pale shade of blue. Both those dresses were tacky, the girls themselves were beautiful but the way they dressed was tacky, if their parent's can afford a portrait surely they would be able to afford tasteful dresses.

I was working on the background, a nice shade of colour in the back behind the girls. Their young happy faces, oh youth what a beautiful thing it is, well thats what I thought anyway, I would of gave anything to be young forever.

Well for my 21st birthday I bought myself a ticket to go to France a short holiday for myself, but I would take commissions if the question was raised 

I was on the ship and was taking in the scenery, the handsome muscular crew men mainly. I smirked to myself as I watched them run around. Oh yes I suppose I should of mentioned this earlier I'am a gay man, true I find women beautiful but only for the artistic part, they seem to be the most beautiful to paint. 

That night in my cabin, it was small and cold, the blanket was itchy. I would not dare look under the bed of fear to see mice or rats scurry around, I still shudder at that thought. The only comfy thing in this room was my nightwear made of the finest silk, I do love the finest. 

The next morning we had docked in France, I made my way off the ship and my luggage was brought off the ship and was placed next to me, i stopped a passing horse drawn cart with my silver headed black thin cane. The driver help me with my luggage into the back and off we went to the inn I was to stay at. 

I was in the cart and looked out as we passed the building and the young people. I saw a few youths play punching each other they must of been 13 and a mix of girls and boys. Well I got to the inn, checked in then once I settled in I made my way out.

As I was walking along the road I looked around and I seemed to of caught the attention of a woman, she looked about in her late thirties, a pretty face but it was covered in make up, powder caught in her few wrinkles around her eyes. She ran across the road and she picked the hem of dress up so she didn't trip over it. "Excuse me!" her voice was soft, but had a dull ring to it, I looked at this woman run over she stopped in front of me and let go of the hem and brushed down her dress. "Is your name Lucas Willow, the painter" she asked me, I looked at her pale cold blue eyes for a brief moment and smiled "yes I am" my french was so so, but thankfully she spoke fine English.

"My name is Mrs Abelle Beaumont, and me and my family have been wanting a portrait done...and me and my husband Dion have searched for painters, and I have just noticed one of your portraits in the gallery here oh what a joy it would be if you could paint me and my family" she smiled, Abelle's smile was lovely, more lovely than her entire face. "I would love to Mrs Beaumont" he replied with a little bow.

Abelle hailed a cab and she took us back to her home I offered to pay for the cab of course and we arrived at her home. It was a beautiful building, and a beautiful front yard, Abelle opened the front door and a maid came over and took our coats. "You have a beautiful home Mrs Beaumont" I smiled as I looked around, "thank you" she spoke to the maid in french and she walked off a few moments later a man around the same age as Abelle walked out of what I guessed at the time was the study he was holding a young girl who must of been four or five and a young man who was 16.

"Lucas this is my husband Dion, our daughter Maria, and our eldest Marcel. This is Mr Lucas Willow the painter" the three looked at me and Dion walked over and shook my hand "its a pleasure to meet you Mr Willow" I shook his hand and smiled "please call me Lucas" I said to him. "Marcel could you show Lucas where we want to be painted" Abelle said to her son, he nodded his head and I followed after. What a pretty face he had, his skin was like porcelain, long raven hair tied with a teal ribbon, striking baby blue eyes Marcel was beautiful. I always said women were beautiful to paint but I wanted to paint this young man so much.

He didn't say much, he must of been shy around new people Marcel pushed the door open and it was very pretty inside, two large windows with violet curtains, two sofa's made of red velvet, a bookcase that was the size and length of the back wall. "Amazing" I said as I spun on the heel of my feet I looked at this stunning beauty and smiled at him "tell me Marcel how long has your mother and father wanted a portrait?" he looked at me with his baby blue eyes I froze for a moment, he had amazing eyes, he was just so beautiful.

Then he spoke his English wasn't that great but his French accent was seeping through and my god he had a astounding voice. "A... few months now" Marcel bit down gently on his bottom lip and sat on the couch, "Lucas...can help learn me English?" it was pretty obvious that this boy couldn't understand how to construct a proper sentence in English and I nodded my head and agreed to help this boy, when he saw me nod his face lit up and he smiled. I sat next to Marcel on the velvet sofa "t-hank..you?" I nodded my head "that's right Marcel" the young man beamed with happiness that he was getting the words correct.

To do the portrait would take a few days and when I wasn't painting me and Marcel spent a great deal of time together. Though his father Dion did not like the fact that him and me were spending as much time as we were together he thought that Marcel should be working to take over the family business and finding a wife not wasting time with a damn painter. True I thought that as well but young Marcel wanted to spend time with me and I wanted to spend time with him, its that simple. 

I invited Marcel back to my hotel room I wanted to do a sketch of him and paint just him, for my desire to paint him alone got greater than the first day I laid eyes on him. 

I was setting up the easel and getting the oil paints ready for his portrait when he called my name I glanced over "yes Marcel?" I asked him, his eyes were fixed on me no more was he this shy, hardly saying a word young man, through the short time we had spent together Marcel seemed to of grown so much. I put down my pallet and walked over to him he placed his soft hand on my shirt sleeve and another on my chest and before I knew it Marcel had brought me into a kiss, his red lips were just as soft as I imagined, his scent was heavenly. He drew back and was about to remove his hand but I grabbed it, his pale cheeks were now a colour of a rose. I sat next to him and placed the back of my hand on his rouge cheek. 

Marcel moved his hand onto his shirt and began to take it off but I stopped him, I have always been a romantic never been one for sexual contact, I could tell by his eyes that he was hungry for something other than food. "Sorry..Lucas" he looked away as though he did something wrong "Marcel its not your fault" I placed my hand on his cheek and turned him to face me "I have never had sex, sex has never been a desire of mine.." he looked at me with confused eyes, oh he was so young, so innocent to the world but I loved him and he loved me back.

He wanted to spend the night sleeping next to me but his father would use anything to get rid of me you see. The next day I had finished the painting and Dion payed me and gave me a stern look "now you have finished you can leave now sir!" I had figured that Dion had noticed that I was a homosexual and he didn't want a sodomite to be around his son, but Marcel had told me that he only had eyes for men the night he confessed to me and that he didn't want his father finding out. 

I took the money from his rough, large hands grabbed my easel said my goodbyes to the family and left. I knew that Marcel and his mother had grown fond of me and Abelle had invited me out for tea, she knew I was gay and didn't mind the idea but she did tell me she had a little crush on me mainly artistically because of my talent at such a young age. 

Well that evening Me and Marcel were taking a walk much to Dion's objections and we were having a splendid time, but I could sense that someone was following us. Marcel was about to kiss me when I stopped him, "wait" I whispered to him, he stopped where he was and I went to see where this person was. "Show your self!" I called and from behind a group of trees was Dion "see! I told you he had seduced my son!" there was a police man with him. It seemed that Dion had told the police that I was planning to seduce Marcel then to steal his money. 

Before I knew it I was arrested, Dion did rather hate me didn't he to want me out of the way so much. But same-sex relations was legal in 1791 in Paris so Dion couldn't get me arrested for simply loving his son. But since there really was no proof of Dion's claims I was sent back to England after a few days and I never saw Marcel again. 

But dear readers there is much more left to tell.