"Do you like what I'm doing to you?” Honey inquired.
"It's very..."
"Arousing?"
"Yes."
"Then let us go upstairs where we can be more comfortable."
At the bottom of the stairs, Honey hesitated. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to ask your manservant to bring us a jug of hot water and a cloth."
"What for?"
"Be patient, mon ami. Just have him bring what I ask, and you will see."
* * * *
As if anticipating the need, Thomas had closed the curtains and lighted a fire in the main bedroom. The room was warm and cozy and, after Thomas brought the jug of hot water, a wash cloth and several towels, he withdrew.
Honey opened his bundle, took out a small bottle and poured a little of the contents into the hot water. “Lavender oil,” he said in response to Antoine's unspoken question. “It's both relaxing and refreshing. Now, let me help you remove your clothes."
After Antoine's clothes were gone, Honey divested himself of what he was wearing. He then pulled back the bedcovers, spread one of the towels over the sheet and asked Antoine to lie down.
Once he had Antoine arranged to his satisfaction, he dipped the cloth into the warm, lavender-scented water, told Antoine to close his eyes, and began to gently bathe his body.
At first, Honey kept to the non-erogenous areas, like Antoine's face, arms and lower legs. It was the most erotic thing Antoine had so far experienced, and when Honey began to wash his belly, he could barely keep still. The warm cloth touched his dick, and Antoine gritted his teeth, then bit down hard on his lower lip when Honey pushed back the foreskin and carefully cleaned the tip.
Honey gave him a nudge with his knee. “Turn over, please."
After Antoine complied with the request, Honey bathed his back, rubbing the warm cloth down his crack and inside the opening of his rectum.
When he was finished, he took another bottle of what Antoine assumed was oil from his bundle, poured a little on Antoine's back and shoulders and then began to give his muscles a deep, relaxing massage. “Feels good, yes?” he muttered in response to Antoine's sigh.
"Fantastic. It feels so good, I don't want to move."
"I think you will like this even better,” Honey said, as he positioned Antoine on his knees and spread his ass cheeks, and Antoine felt the delicious slide of Honey's hot, wet tongue.
At first, he just teased the sensitive skin around Antoine's butt-hole, then his tongue dipped inside. A moment later, Honey's fingers began manipulating and stretching the tense muscle, and Antoine held his breath. The antics of Honey's tongue were wonderful, so erotic, so exciting, but what was to come would, he knew, be even better, and he could hardly wait.
Honey's hands moved around Antoine's body and began milking his cock for a little pre-cum. When he had enough, he slathered it over Antoine's hole, spread his ass cheeks as wide as they would go, and Antoine knew The Moment had finally arrived.
"Ready?” Honey asked as he inserted the head of his aroused shaft into Antoine butt hole.
"More than ready."
"Just relax, and we'll take this slow and easy,” Honey replied as he took his time pushing all the way in. He pulled partway out and pushed in again.
Antoine was so excited he was ready to come now, but he realized if he were to truly enjoy Honey's talents, he must learn to hold back. Perhaps, in time, if he forced himself to relax a little, he could make this special moment last for however long he might wish.
Unfortunately, he could not do it now. As Honey began to pump faster and run his hands up and down Antoine's cock at the same time, Antoine exploded, and his juices burst forth in a steady stream he thought would never stop.
A moment later, he felt the warm, wet evidence of Honey's cum down his legs, and Honey collapsed beside him on the bed. But as soon as Honey had his breathing under control, he pulled up the bedcovers and tucked Antoine into his side. Sliding a finger beneath Antoine's chin, he kissed him on the lips. “You feel better now?"
"Much better. But would you mind if..."
"You want to suck me?"
"I would like to, yes."
"I am your servant, master. Yours to command in any way you wish."
Antoine cringed at Honey's use of the word master. “Do you think we could be friends, rather than master and servant?” He smiled and stroked Honey's cheek. “While I can never take you into my world, we have our own world here in this house on la rue Violette, and with that we must be content. But if anything should happen to me, then I want you to know that this property and everything in it, including Thomas, will belong to you and be your responsibility. What do you say?"
"I would love to be your friend, Antoine, your real, true friend because already I have given you my heart. But it is not necessary for you to give me your property. I will never leave you, not so long as you wish me to stay here with you and there is breath left in my body to show my love."
"Nor will I leave you, mon chèr ami. If this be true love, then we will find a way to cherish every last moment."
Honey smiled. “Until we are so old we no longer have enough strength to make love."
"You think that day will arrive?"
"The day we are no longer interested in making love?” Honey looked pensive for a few seconds, but then he laughed and dropped another kiss on Antoine's eager mouth. “No. I intend to pray to all the gods and make novenas to all the saints. I promise on the blessed memory of my sainted parents I will do whatever is necessary to make certain that day never comes."
Antoine relaxed against the soft pillows and closed his eyes. Finally, he had everything a man could ever want or need—a true and loyal partner who would cater to his every whim and the wherewithal with which to enjoy it all.
Yes, he was indeed a very lucky man, and for that he must remember to thank le bon Dieu when he attended church on Sunday with his mother.
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Christiane France
Christiane truly believes that love makes the world go round, so she likes stories with both happy and bittersweet endings. Christiane has been writing romance for the past twenty years and lives near Niagara Falls with her husband and The Boys—two black and white Persian cats.
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