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“Holy shit,” I huffed, clinging to my dick with one hand and the counter with the other.
Henri’s grip on my hips slackened a bit, but he still held me in place, his cock thick and hot inside me. I freaking loved the feel of a man inside me.
“Are you well?” he breathlessly asked, easing out of me way before I was ready for him to go. I nodded, let go of my dick, and slowly turned to face him. He was tight to me, his chest and belly pressed to mine.
“I am so damn well,” I replied and went to my toes to kiss him. He exhaled his relief into my mouth, returning the kiss with such fire that I lost all sense of time and space. Something about this man was undoing me kiss by kiss, touch by touch, and for the life of me, I had no clue how or why. I lapped at his mouth, ran my tongue over his puffy lips, and then asked the million dollar question. “You up for round two? My dick in your ass?”
“Oh yes. Very much yes.”
We ended up in his bed, smearing lube, cum, and butter on the quality sheets with wild abandon. His body was like some sort of glorious artwork map, like them ones that you see done by them fancy old-time cartographers with all the detailed mountains, valleys, and cobblestone roads in every village. Those are the maps that you want to study in depth, feel with your fingers and mouth. Or not. Guess putting your mouth on an old cobblestone road would be slightly unsanitary. Maybe that was a bad comparison, but Henri had a beautiful body, slim and strong, with little to no hair on his chest, groin, and of course, his beautiful balls. As much as I loved balls you’d think I would have been a tennis player but jumping over the net after a win would be problematic.
I spread him out over the bed, kissed and licked and nipped my way from his ears to his toes. He was incredibly vocal, pushy, and a little demanding. Which was totally on par with how he was out of bed. And while it kind of rubbed me raw in the real world, here in his bed I was digging it. Power bottoms light my fuse, no lie.
He gave up his ass with sinful ease as if it were a delicacy in one of those French bakeries you’d see along a damp Parisian street. Not that I seen many, or any, damp streets in Paris, but I seen pictures. And trust me, that ass of his was sweeter than any eclair.
“Fuck you’re tight,” I snarled as I eased into his body, his long legs resting on my shoulders, his pretty cock slick with spittle from where I’d sucked it until it was erect again. Didn’t take much sucking, to be honest. I kissed one slim ankle and then pumped in and out, his mouth forming a small O as his lashes fluttered. “That hit the spot, galette?”
His eyes opened as the corners of his well-kissed mouth came up. “What did…shit, rock back in now. Yes, mmm, yes. What did you call me?”
His fingers bit into my sides. I shimmied up more to get more traction as his rump was sliding off the pillow we’d wedged under him.
I rutted madly, uncaring of what words I had used, but he was persistent. “Philip, what did you call me?”
“Galette. I heard it once on a baking show. It’s something…I love it when you do that. Squeeze me. Fuck yeah…oh uhm, it’s something sweet, right? A sugary sweet treat?”
His smile bloomed fully, and it stole my breath to see it. “Yes, yes, it is a tart. Say nothing,” he panted, sweat and probably some spunk plastering his gold hair to his brow. “A tart for Epiphany that is popular.”
“Mm, yeah, what’s in this tart?” I asked in the hopes of keeping my mind off his ass milking me with each thrust.
“There are…dear Christ, Philip, move that way again.”
I rolled my hips and all talk of tarts ended. He came with a violent shudder just a few moments later, his heels digging into my shoulders while I stroked his cock. Hot cum coated my fingers. His channel contracted, and I lost myself totally.
When the stars faded, I floated back down to earth, my body splayed out on top of Henri’s, his arms and legs wound around me. I dropped a few kisses under his jaw, enjoying the salty taste of sweat and semen. Oh, and butter.
“You are weighty for such a tiny man,” he gasped. I pinched a taut nipple.
“I’ll move as soon as you let me go,” I replied. He held me close, his lips resting at my hairline, his fingers now skipping up and down my spine. “Or I can linger here.”
“Yes, linger, please?”
His request was a mere whisper, but there was a shit ton of emotion behind it.
“Sure, yeah, let’s linger.” I laid there for as long as I could, but after a bit cold cum was unpleasant. I eased my soft dick out, tied off the condom, and dropped it into a can beside the bed. Then I flopped to my back beside him, the room muted with only a small hobnail light on the dresser for light. The air was cool, the AC chugging along to combat the muggy August heat. “So, now that we did it twice, you feeling purged?” I had to ask.
He moved to lie on his side to stare at me. His face was in shadow, but he still robbed my senses.
“I’m not sure what I am feeling right now, Philip.”
“That’s fair. Me either, to be honest.” I reached out to touch one of his elegant eyebrows. They arched so nicely as if someone had painted them on, but they were real. “You’re too pretty a guy to be hooking up with the likes of me.”
“That’s nonsense,” he answered and slid a tacky leg between mine. I wrootched closer so that his chest and mine were just a whisker apart. “You are handsome, virile, and…”
“Go on, say it,” I teased, enjoying the light exploration of his brow and then his nose. His lashes drifted down to rest on his cheek when my finger moved over his lid.
“What do you think I was going to say?” His hand fell to my hip where he began making odd patterns on my cooling skin.
“Talkative to the point of ear exhaustion.”
