#laurent leclaire fan fic

[melodygatesauthor]

Painted

Laurent LeClaire X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

Summary:

You're a woman alone at the bar and you witness an argument between a husband and wife. The wife leaves, and you're left alone with her sexually frustrated husband.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

NSFW, dubious consent (reader doesn't say yes to Laurent but it's clear that she's into it), smut, a tiny sprinkle of angst, pussy eating, blowjob, playing with cum, p in v creampie, sex with a stranger, unprotected sex, semi-public sex.

Word Count: 2.7k

You saw the whole argument unfold. The man shouting at his wife in the busy Paris bar. She, clearly filled with disdain for her spouse, climbed on the table and spread her legs for him. He undid his belt, pulled his thick cock out and tried to bring it to life. You wondered if he was struggling because he’d had far too much to drink, or if the couple hated each other so deeply that she didn’t pique his desires any longer.

Either way, after she left, you were the last person in the bar, and he looked right at you.

He sauntered over, wiping a bit of drool off his chin as he got closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your cheeks burning. He chuckled, breath stinking of alcohol as he brushed the back of his index finger over your neck.

“Your skin is soft,” he commented, biting his lip. “I’d love to paint you.”

You didn’t protest as he lifted your rear onto the table behind you. His fingertips brushed over your inner thigh, trailing along until they reached your underpants. His breath trembled as his face drew closer to yours.

“You wouldn’t tell me no, would you?” He tucked a finger into your underwear and started pulling them down your legs carefully, as if he were still waiting for you to push him away. He discarded them, putting both hands on your knees and parting your thighs wide. “You’ll always keep these legs open for me, won’t you chérie?”

“Mm,” was all you could mutter as you felt the fat tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

It had been so long since you’d been in the company of a man, and your eagerness was made apparent by the slick arousal dripping out of you. It clearly wasn’t the drunkenness that made him flaccid, the man had no issue spearing through your tight hole like it was his. He breathed out a moaning sigh, rolling his hips at an even, lazy pace.

He leaned in, mouth closing over yours as he shoved himself deeper, hand reaching under your leg to push it back, spreading your thighs wider for him. You gasped, mouth open over his while the bar was filled with your sounds. He nipped at your bottom lip, his other hand sliding up to grab your breast which was still trapped behind the bodice of your dress.

“Your body is so beautiful, sweetheart. Such a shame I don’t have time to really admire it,” he chuckled, slipping his tongue past your lips and entangling it with yours.

He pushed you back, mouths parting before you could protest, so your spine was flat along the table. With a swift tug, he gripped where your dress concealed your breasts and pulled it downward. Both of your tits spilled out, bouncing in time with his thrusts. His flushed cheeks became more prominent with his drunken grin. A low groan emerged from his lips as he leaned down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Oh, sir, oh god!”

He sucked and bit at your nipple like he was desperate for it. His body moved faster, both hands reaching down now to hold onto your hips for leverage. You couldn’t feign modesty anymore, your pleasured screams filling the empty bar and likely spilling into the back streets of Paris.

“Oui, mon chérie, keep squeezing yourself around me like that and I shall paint your insides white,” he whispered against your breast.

You grabbed the edge of the table, spine arching backward and legs spreading wider as he drove deeper into you than before. You felt him reaching the deepest parts of your center, the tip of his cock brushing in a smooth motion against that spot inside of you that made your body tremble. You were weak, a distinct tingling pooling in the pit of your core and spreading all over every inch of your skin.

“Oh god, oh-my-oh-oh!”

In an instant you came. Your entire body gave in to the sensations around you: his mouth over your breast, his tongue flicking masterfully at your nipple, his hand holding onto your outer thigh and squeezing it tightly. You felt everything as though every nerve ending in your body had caught fire.

“Your face is perfection at the height of your pleasure,” he whined, the tone of his voice heightened as his orgasm drew nearer. “The next time we meet, I s-shall, oh-for-god’s-sake, I shall have you touch yourself so I can paint the exact moment when you…”

His hips slammed into yours one final time. A series of choked gasps filled the bar as he made good on his promise to paint your walls white with his hot spend. You liked that feeling of being filled up, even if it was just a stranger at a bar. Perhaps you enjoyed it all the more because it was just a stranger at a bar.

He remained for a moment longer with his body leaned over yours, lips peppering sweet kisses along your sternum as he worked them back up to your neck, your jaw, and then your mouth. His drunken kisses were still sloppy, but you never wanted them to stop.

“What a sweet little muse you are,” he whispered. “I’ve not felt this warmth in my heart for a woman in some time, chérie. I will come back for you every night until my legs no longer work, and you will let me paint you every time, won’t you?”

You nodded, feeling his cock fall out of your hole as it softened. The sound of cum trickling from your cunt tapped like a leaky faucet on the stone floor. With another feather soft kiss, the man stood back from you, looking down at your body with a hooded, lusty gaze. He hardly managed to button his pants, let alone replace his belt, eventually giving up on it all together. 

Without another word exchanged between either of you, he stumbled out, leaving you there on the table to wonder if he would ever come back to ‘paint you’ again.

~~~~

To your relief, he did come back, and this time when he saw you he was sober. He had an artist's satchel with him, and he led you to a back room of the dingy bar where no one wandered. The lighting was dim, and you could smell something foul, but you were happy to see the man again. You tried to kiss him, but he interrupted you with a finger to your lips.

“I want you to remove your clothes and sit in that chair for me,” he said sweetly.

Without a word you nodded, beginning to remove your clothes. You dropped your dress and undergarments in a heap on the floor. You walked over to the chair and sat as instructed.

“May I know your name, sir?” You asked.

He chuckled, “and ruin the allure that comes with such mystery? I think not, chérie.”

You had to admit that there was a bit of added appeal to the man when you didn’t know his name at all. He could be anyone, from anywhere, who had done anything, and you’d never be the wiser. There was something very exciting and tantalizing about that prospect.

He set up his kit, several brushes and pigments at the ready. You wondered if the barkeep let him paint in there regularly, as he seemed to have an easel and canvas ready to prop up and start his work. He walked over to you, kneeling down by your feet and running his fingers up your calf and to your knee. You felt your breathing grow shallow as those daring fingertips made their way between your closed legs, his other hand coming up to do the same.

“Open,” he cooed, assisting the spread of your thighs with his large hands prying between them. “Wow,” he mused, “what a wondrous beauty.”

He looked up at you, pretty brown eyes glistening in what little light the dim room afforded you both. He kept your gaze while he leaned forward, the tip of his distinguished nose brushing against your already swelling clit. Your lips parted for a wavering breath. Your hand instinctively moved to tangle in his dark locks. His hot breath melted over your folds.

A moan rolled through him as his lips made contact with your cunt. His tongue slid between your slit, and a sharp gasp punched out of your lungs. You gripped his hair tighter, your hips arching into his mouth as if what he was giving you wasn’t enough. He hummed, facial hair brushing against your thighs softly while his head moved to hit all the right spots.

“S-sir I…oh I can’t…oh-god!”

Save for your pleasured panting, the only other sound in the room was his messy slurping as your arousal coated his face. Every now and then the man would look up at you, eyes caked in a pussy-drunk hunger unlike any you’d ever seen. His grip tightened on your thighs, and his nose continued rubbing in delicious circles around your sensitive clit.

Two of his delightfully thick fingers worked between your pussy lips, sliding slowly forward until he was curling them inside of you, all the while he was working his tongue around your swollen nub. You thought you might fall over, using his hair and your grip on the chair beneath you to establish some sort of stability as your body shook.

He added another finger, somehow managing to fit all three inside you and pump them into your hole until you were nearly choking on the air that filled your lungs. It was all so much, the sensations overwhelming until they washed over your body in waves. You felt your cunt contract, juices gushing around his knuckles and coating his hand while your walls squeezed over him. You moaned, eyes rolling back and you struggled to keep yourself from falling over. 

The man looked up at you again, rising on his feet just enough to catch your mouth in his. You could taste yourself on him and after enough hungry kisses, your flavor was gone. He pulled back from you, lips swollen and glossy in the light. He stepped back, unbuckling his pants quickly.

“I bet I can make you look even prettier for your portrait, don’t you think, sweetheart?” He asked, running his fingers over your arm and down to your hand, guiding you off the chair and onto your knees.

The floor was cold and the rough surface made your knees ache, but you didn’t have much time to think about your discomfort before his cock was in your face and distracting you from your thoughts. You knew what he wanted, of course. After all, there was a reason you were on your knees. You wrapped your fingers around it as best as you could, not quite able to meet your thumb on the other side. You lapped the tip, gulping down a sweet bead of precum that had collected there.

“I know you won’t disappoint me, chérie. I’ve had enough disappointment to last a man a lifetime. Take it all for me, and don’t hold bac-k-k.”

He moaned deeply the moment your mouth wrapped around his dick, lips sliding down until you reached the base, relaxing your throat to take the entire length. The thickness of him throbbed inside you, and you felt his hand reach to the back of your head to guide you back. He started churning his hips against your face, gagging you on every inch as his length stretched and filled your throat again and again.

You felt tears start to slip down your cheeks, the salty flavor landing along his cock for you to taste while you kept going. The smell of his musk made your mind go numb with desire every time your nose brushed along his soft tuft of pubic hair.

“You’re going to make the prettiest little model for me when I’m finished aren’t you? Oh this mouth, this mouth of yours is divine.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement while he continued fucking your throat. You felt your clit burning with arousal, begging for your touch. Your fingers wandered, slipping between your thighs to quell the ache as it grew. With a gasp your lips slipped off his cock, the strings of your slick saliva connecting you to his red tip. He thrust back into your mouth, his pace even faster.

“Don’t do that again, I need to feel that sweet tongue along every inch of me, sweetheart,” he rasped, a distinct whine playing in harmony with his usual baritone.

You kept your mouth on him, moving your fingers in circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You could feel him twitch inside of you, cock leaking more of that sweet and savory taste you craved. You felt his body shaking, his movements becoming sloppier as he got closer to spilling into you. There wasn’t anything you craved more in that moment than to have him fill your belly with every bit he could.

Again you found yourself a mess, eyes rolling back in your head and body quaking as your orgasm ripped through you. You kept your mouth around him, the feeling of his cock in your throat felt even better when you were in a mind-numbed state of ecstasy. He fucked faster, the bruising pace gagging you and causing more tears to fall down your cheeks in streams.

He was there. He was right there…

You were shocked, and mildly disappointed when he pulled out of you, shooting hot spurts of his precious cum all over your body. Your face wasn’t the only part of you painted by him, he covered your tits, your neck, and even your thighs.

“There,” he sighed, licking his lips as satisfaction washed over him. “Now go back to your chair, my precious little muse. And keep those pretty legs parted, I want to make sure I get all your best features.”

You slowly stood and strode back in your chair, spreading your legs like he’d told you to. He pulled his pants back up, walking back to his canvas where you saw him grab a small dish and a brush before walking back over to you. He knelt down, holding the dish under your cunt and using the brush to collect your arousal into the porcelain bowl. 

“W-what are you–”

“Sh,” he smirked, looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “I’m trying out a new medium, chérie. Keep quiet and let me work.”

He collected your slick until he had a small amount in the dish. He took a bit of his own cum, still decorating your skin in various areas of your body, and he began mixing it with yours.

“Now don’t move, oui?”

You nodded, “oui.”

You watched as he painted, using both your juices to mix the pigment powders he’d brought with him. His eyes darted over the top of the canvas from time to time, narrowed in concentration as he worked. His spend dried on your body and face as the time went on, and you started to feel a bit chill, though you didn’t dare ask to put your clothes back on.

After quite some time he stopped, stepping back with a proud grin sporting his handsome face.

“Come see,” he whispered excitedly.

You walked over to see the painting the man had made of you. It truly was breathtaking, though it was clear the medium wasn’t binding well with the pigment. There were cracks from the dried slick, causing the paint to flake. A heartbreaking sight, but something about it made the creation all the more beautiful. The art piece was temporary, like a quick and wonderful thing that was never meant to last.

Like two strangers meeting a couple of times in a bar only to one day part ways, never to meet again.

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[arcanechariot]

watching for laurent leclaire (spoilers)

join me (just gonna say this from the get go tho; im not a fan of elizaeth olsen tbh)

oml hes so charming and fun and his smile is just radiant im going to have a ball writing him

bro knows sensation play 'on a hunch'??

dear lord i could look at him for hours.... i think i already have a fic idea in mind

its the popped collar and the pouty lips i just know it

i think this man may have singlehandedly ended my writers block but ig well have to see by the end of the movie (im like 25 minutes in) but holy shit 'show me where' theres nothing sexier than a man who actually takes the time to learn a persons body i stg

girl is talkin exposition but idk what blud yappin on about ngl

jumping the gun by saying this already but he can do better

dude i wanna ditch this movie and just start writing (i might actually tbf and just read the summary of the rest of it bc i dont want my writers block to come back)

i know it probably wont stay this way but finishing the movie now just means hes this rapscalion who saved this young woman from a dismal married life with her wet blanket of a husband

JESUS CHRIST

okay aBORT ABORT I HAVE TO WRITE (also he just said that he couldnt stay with her so im making it canon in my head that he just splits with her after a while bc he respects the fact that shes married and well go from there 👍👍)

edit: just read the end on wiki and its a basic tragedy. i like my ending better

[faretheeoscar]

Mel coming again with the masterpieces and feeding my Laurent hunger

Painted

Laurent LeClaire X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

Summary:

You're a woman alone at the bar and you witness an argument between a husband and wife. The wife leaves, and you're left alone with her sexually frustrated husband.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

NSFW, dubious consent (reader doesn't say yes to Laurent but it's clear that she's into it), smut, a tiny sprinkle of angst, pussy eating, blowjob, playing with cum, p in v creampie, sex with a stranger, unprotected sex, semi-public sex.

Word Count: 2.7k

You saw the whole argument unfold. The man shouting at his wife in the busy Paris bar. She, clearly filled with disdain for her spouse, climbed on the table and spread her legs for him. He undid his belt, pulled his thick cock out and tried to bring it to life. You wondered if he was struggling because he’d had far too much to drink, or if the couple hated each other so deeply that she didn’t pique his desires any longer.

Either way, after she left, you were the last person in the bar, and he looked right at you.

He sauntered over, wiping a bit of drool off his chin as he got closer to you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your cheeks burning. He chuckled, breath stinking of alcohol as he brushed the back of his index finger over your neck.

“Your skin is soft,” he commented, biting his lip. “I’d love to paint you.”

You didn’t protest as he lifted your rear onto the table behind you. His fingertips brushed over your inner thigh, trailing along until they reached your underpants. His breath trembled as his face drew closer to yours.

“You wouldn’t tell me no, would you?” He tucked a finger into your underwear and started pulling them down your legs carefully, as if he were still waiting for you to push him away. He discarded them, putting both hands on your knees and parting your thighs wide. “You’ll always keep these legs open for me, won’t you chérie?”

“Mm,” was all you could mutter as you felt the fat tip of his cock pressing against your entrance.

It had been so long since you’d been in the company of a man, and your eagerness was made apparent by the slick arousal dripping out of you. It clearly wasn’t the drunkenness that made him flaccid, the man had no issue spearing through your tight hole like it was his. He breathed out a moaning sigh, rolling his hips at an even, lazy pace.

He leaned in, mouth closing over yours as he shoved himself deeper, hand reaching under your leg to push it back, spreading your thighs wider for him. You gasped, mouth open over his while the bar was filled with your sounds. He nipped at your bottom lip, his other hand sliding up to grab your breast which was still trapped behind the bodice of your dress.

“Your body is so beautiful, sweetheart. Such a shame I don’t have time to really admire it,” he chuckled, slipping his tongue past your lips and entangling it with yours.

He pushed you back, mouths parting before you could protest, so your spine was flat along the table. With a swift tug, he gripped where your dress concealed your breasts and pulled it downward. Both of your tits spilled out, bouncing in time with his thrusts. His flushed cheeks became more prominent with his drunken grin. A low groan emerged from his lips as he leaned down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Oh, sir, oh god!”

He sucked and bit at your nipple like he was desperate for it. His body moved faster, both hands reaching down now to hold onto your hips for leverage. You couldn’t feign modesty anymore, your pleasured screams filling the empty bar and likely spilling into the back streets of Paris.

“Oui, mon chérie, keep squeezing yourself around me like that and I shall paint your insides white,” he whispered against your breast.

You grabbed the edge of the table, spine arching backward and legs spreading wider as he drove deeper into you than before. You felt him reaching the deepest parts of your center, the tip of his cock brushing in a smooth motion against that spot inside of you that made your body tremble. You were weak, a distinct tingling pooling in the pit of your core and spreading all over every inch of your skin.

“Oh god, oh-my-oh-oh!”

In an instant you came. Your entire body gave in to the sensations around you: his mouth over your breast, his tongue flicking masterfully at your nipple, his hand holding onto your outer thigh and squeezing it tightly. You felt everything as though every nerve ending in your body had caught fire.

“Your face is perfection at the height of your pleasure,” he whined, the tone of his voice heightened as his orgasm drew nearer. “The next time we meet, I s-shall, oh-for-god’s-sake, I shall have you touch yourself so I can paint the exact moment when you…”

His hips slammed into yours one final time. A series of choked gasps filled the bar as he made good on his promise to paint your walls white with his hot spend. You liked that feeling of being filled up, even if it was just a stranger at a bar. Perhaps you enjoyed it all the more because it was just a stranger at a bar.

He remained for a moment longer with his body leaned over yours, lips peppering sweet kisses along your sternum as he worked them back up to your neck, your jaw, and then your mouth. His drunken kisses were still sloppy, but you never wanted them to stop.

“What a sweet little muse you are,” he whispered. “I’ve not felt this warmth in my heart for a woman in some time, chérie. I will come back for you every night until my legs no longer work, and you will let me paint you every time, won’t you?”

You nodded, feeling his cock fall out of your hole as it softened. The sound of cum trickling from your cunt tapped like a leaky faucet on the stone floor. With another feather soft kiss, the man stood back from you, looking down at your body with a hooded, lusty gaze. He hardly managed to button his pants, let alone replace his belt, eventually giving up on it all together. 

Without another word exchanged between either of you, he stumbled out, leaving you there on the table to wonder if he would ever come back to ‘paint you’ again.

~~~~

To your relief, he did come back, and this time when he saw you he was sober. He had an artist's satchel with him, and he led you to a back room of the dingy bar where no one wandered. The lighting was dim, and you could smell something foul, but you were happy to see the man again. You tried to kiss him, but he interrupted you with a finger to your lips.

“I want you to remove your clothes and sit in that chair for me,” he said sweetly.

Without a word you nodded, beginning to remove your clothes. You dropped your dress and undergarments in a heap on the floor. You walked over to the chair and sat as instructed.

“May I know your name, sir?” You asked.

He chuckled, “and ruin the allure that comes with such mystery? I think not, chérie.”

You had to admit that there was a bit of added appeal to the man when you didn’t know his name at all. He could be anyone, from anywhere, who had done anything, and you’d never be the wiser. There was something very exciting and tantalizing about that prospect.

He set up his kit, several brushes and pigments at the ready. You wondered if the barkeep let him paint in there regularly, as he seemed to have an easel and canvas ready to prop up and start his work. He walked over to you, kneeling down by your feet and running his fingers up your calf and to your knee. You felt your breathing grow shallow as those daring fingertips made their way between your closed legs, his other hand coming up to do the same.

“Open,” he cooed, assisting the spread of your thighs with his large hands prying between them. “Wow,” he mused, “what a wondrous beauty.”

He looked up at you, pretty brown eyes glistening in what little light the dim room afforded you both. He kept your gaze while he leaned forward, the tip of his distinguished nose brushing against your already swelling clit. Your lips parted for a wavering breath. Your hand instinctively moved to tangle in his dark locks. His hot breath melted over your folds.

A moan rolled through him as his lips made contact with your cunt. His tongue slid between your slit, and a sharp gasp punched out of your lungs. You gripped his hair tighter, your hips arching into his mouth as if what he was giving you wasn’t enough. He hummed, facial hair brushing against your thighs softly while his head moved to hit all the right spots.

“S-sir I…oh I can’t…oh-god!”

Save for your pleasured panting, the only other sound in the room was his messy slurping as your arousal coated his face. Every now and then the man would look up at you, eyes caked in a pussy-drunk hunger unlike any you’d ever seen. His grip tightened on your thighs, and his nose continued rubbing in delicious circles around your sensitive clit.

Two of his delightfully thick fingers worked between your pussy lips, sliding slowly forward until he was curling them inside of you, all the while he was working his tongue around your swollen nub. You thought you might fall over, using his hair and your grip on the chair beneath you to establish some sort of stability as your body shook.

He added another finger, somehow managing to fit all three inside you and pump them into your hole until you were nearly choking on the air that filled your lungs. It was all so much, the sensations overwhelming until they washed over your body in waves. You felt your cunt contract, juices gushing around his knuckles and coating his hand while your walls squeezed over him. You moaned, eyes rolling back and you struggled to keep yourself from falling over. 

The man looked up at you again, rising on his feet just enough to catch your mouth in his. You could taste yourself on him and after enough hungry kisses, your flavor was gone. He pulled back from you, lips swollen and glossy in the light. He stepped back, unbuckling his pants quickly.

“I bet I can make you look even prettier for your portrait, don’t you think, sweetheart?” He asked, running his fingers over your arm and down to your hand, guiding you off the chair and onto your knees.

The floor was cold and the rough surface made your knees ache, but you didn’t have much time to think about your discomfort before his cock was in your face and distracting you from your thoughts. You knew what he wanted, of course. After all, there was a reason you were on your knees. You wrapped your fingers around it as best as you could, not quite able to meet your thumb on the other side. You lapped the tip, gulping down a sweet bead of precum that had collected there.

“I know you won’t disappoint me, chérie. I’ve had enough disappointment to last a man a lifetime. Take it all for me, and don’t hold bac-k-k.”

He moaned deeply the moment your mouth wrapped around his dick, lips sliding down until you reached the base, relaxing your throat to take the entire length. The thickness of him throbbed inside you, and you felt his hand reach to the back of your head to guide you back. He started churning his hips against your face, gagging you on every inch as his length stretched and filled your throat again and again.

You felt tears start to slip down your cheeks, the salty flavor landing along his cock for you to taste while you kept going. The smell of his musk made your mind go numb with desire every time your nose brushed along his soft tuft of pubic hair.

“You’re going to make the prettiest little model for me when I’m finished aren’t you? Oh this mouth, this mouth of yours is divine.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement while he continued fucking your throat. You felt your clit burning with arousal, begging for your touch. Your fingers wandered, slipping between your thighs to quell the ache as it grew. With a gasp your lips slipped off his cock, the strings of your slick saliva connecting you to his red tip. He thrust back into your mouth, his pace even faster.

“Don’t do that again, I need to feel that sweet tongue along every inch of me, sweetheart,” he rasped, a distinct whine playing in harmony with his usual baritone.

You kept your mouth on him, moving your fingers in circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You could feel him twitch inside of you, cock leaking more of that sweet and savory taste you craved. You felt his body shaking, his movements becoming sloppier as he got closer to spilling into you. There wasn’t anything you craved more in that moment than to have him fill your belly with every bit he could.

Again you found yourself a mess, eyes rolling back in your head and body quaking as your orgasm ripped through you. You kept your mouth around him, the feeling of his cock in your throat felt even better when you were in a mind-numbed state of ecstasy. He fucked faster, the bruising pace gagging you and causing more tears to fall down your cheeks in streams.

He was there. He was right there…

You were shocked, and mildly disappointed when he pulled out of you, shooting hot spurts of his precious cum all over your body. Your face wasn’t the only part of you painted by him, he covered your tits, your neck, and even your thighs.

“There,” he sighed, licking his lips as satisfaction washed over him. “Now go back to your chair, my precious little muse. And keep those pretty legs parted, I want to make sure I get all your best features.”

You slowly stood and strode back in your chair, spreading your legs like he’d told you to. He pulled his pants back up, walking back to his canvas where you saw him grab a small dish and a brush before walking back over to you. He knelt down, holding the dish under your cunt and using the brush to collect your arousal into the porcelain bowl. 

“W-what are you–”

“Sh,” he smirked, looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “I’m trying out a new medium, chérie. Keep quiet and let me work.”

He collected your slick until he had a small amount in the dish. He took a bit of his own cum, still decorating your skin in various areas of your body, and he began mixing it with yours.

“Now don’t move, oui?”

You nodded, “oui.”

You watched as he painted, using both your juices to mix the pigment powders he’d brought with him. His eyes darted over the top of the canvas from time to time, narrowed in concentration as he worked. His spend dried on your body and face as the time went on, and you started to feel a bit chill, though you didn’t dare ask to put your clothes back on.

After quite some time he stopped, stepping back with a proud grin sporting his handsome face.

“Come see,” he whispered excitedly.

You walked over to see the painting the man had made of you. It truly was breathtaking, though it was clear the medium wasn’t binding well with the pigment. There were cracks from the dried slick, causing the paint to flake. A heartbreaking sight, but something about it made the creation all the more beautiful. The art piece was temporary, like a quick and wonderful thing that was never meant to last.

Like two strangers meeting a couple of times in a bar only to one day part ways, never to meet again.

Back to Miscellaneous Masterlist

Back to Main Masterlist