The French Lesson

by Robyn Elliot

  Danny nodded. God, Stef, I love you so bloody much!

  “Me too,” Stef said, smiling warmly, looking bright eyed with lust and happiness.

  Danny started slightly. “Did I just say that out loud?”

  “You certainly did…why, having second thoughts about being loved by me?”

  “No, Stef, no, God, no!” Danny grimaced, and swiped Stef on the arm. “Very drole, Frenchman.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes. Yes, lovers really do that. Like the entire world, the known cosmos, and everything intergalactic in between, stops, or is obliterated into nonexistence, because Danny and Stephane were getting lost in their own kind of space.

  I’m going to marry this guy, Stef suddenly thought, as his eyes moved over Danny’s delicate features. And a sweat broke out all over his body at the thought, and though he felt elated and happier than he’d believed it possible to feel, he was so terrified by the realization that he not only loved Danny – he needed Danny – that Stef knew he was in the shit.

  Deep, subterranean shit. He pushed away everything else. He pushed away what was going on in France and the broken promises. This was the known universe, now. Here, with Danny.

  Stef’s hitherto careless attitudes to love and sex were busy colliding with the revelation of the depths of his love for the guy in his arms, when the kitchen door opened with tentative care. Danny placed his palms on Stef’s chest, gently pushing him away.

  Stef turned around, and waved cheekily at Annelise, her head poked out of the door.

  “Ahem, is it safe to leave the confines of the kitchen, boys?” she laughed.

  Danny flopped his head on Stef’s shoulder, shuddering with embarrassment. Stef coolly shrugged, and took Danny’s hand, leading him into the living room.

  “I’ll be a second, will just get some of my things.” He kissed Danny on his brow, and Danny stood in the middle of the room, plunging his hands into his pockets.

  After a few minutes of awkwardness, Danny heard Stef going into the kitchen.

  “Can we have that meal another time, Maman? I’m going to stay with Danny.” Stef opened the fridge, took out a carton of orange juice and was about to take a swig, before Elisabeth slapped him on the wrist.

  “Filthy child!” she admonished, making Annelise giggle at the expression on Stef’s face. Elisabeth took the carton, poured some of the juice into a tumbler, handing it to her errant son. Filthy child that he was. She didn’t know the half of it.

  Stef drank the juice in three quick gulps, winking at his mother over the tumbler’s rim. Elisabeth shook her head, looking at Annelise in mock exasperation. “You don’t want to overdo things, Stephane,” Elisabeth commented, making Annelise choke slightly. Elisabeth shot her a look. “Including that; you had an operation not so long ago, darling.”

  Stef rolled his eyes. He took his jacket off the peg on the back of the door, winced slightly as he put it on. “You see?” Elisabeth said, looking at Annelise for a degree of support.

  Annelise had other ideas. “Well, you two don’t hang about, that’s all I’m going to say!”

  “Really? That’s all you’re going to say? Hmm, okay,” Stef teased, and kissed Elisabeth, then made to kiss Annelise.

  She held him at arm's length. “Tell me the details later,” she laughed.

  “Annelise!” Elisabeth exclaimed.

  “Can I go now? Danny!” Stef stood on the threshold of the door, inclining his head, “time to say bye bye to two insane women, babe!”

  After a brief but notable pause, Danny came into the kitchen, Stef only moving slightly to let him pass, meaning Danny had to brush his hips with Stef’s to do so. His face flamed, and his fair hair seemed even more blonde from the contrast.

  Elisabeth had remarked to Annelise how pretty she thought Danny was, how utterly nonplussed she’d been on seeing him for the first time. “He’s nothing like I imagined,” she’d confided.

  “That’s why this is so different,” Annelise had said, “so you’d better start thinking of what kind of hat you’re going to wear.”

  “My goodness, what a mind reader you are, Annelise! I had thought it would be you and Guillaume first, not my adorable but rather unfaithful second son!” Now, Danny stood there, smiling nervously at the two women, and every breathy, desperate little moan came to haunt him, especially as Stef was standing there, enjoying his discomfort.

  “Have you got plenty to eat at home, Danny?” Elisabeth asked sensibly. He didn’t miss the quick glance exchanged between Stef’s Maman and Annelise.

  Er, no. Unless you counted a half-eaten packet of crisp breads and two wrinkled tomatoes in the fridge as a substantial weekly shop. Danny’s mother, Caroline, had been daily admonishing him via telephone voice mails on not eating properly and could she bring food over...met only by Danny’s protracted silences.

  Danny confessed. “I’m sorry…” he started. He saw Stef frown slightly, and knew it irked Stef how he always seemed to be apologizing. Danny suddenly felt annoyed with Stef all over again, over Hugo, over being mauled in the hallway, over being swept utterly and completely off his feet so that all he could think about was the Frenchman standing in front of him now, “but I don’t have a lot in, no. I could order some shopping though,” he added hopefully.

  “We can get takeaway tonight, Danny, we’ll sort out food tomorrow,” Stef said decisively.

  Danny nodded, and let Stef take charge again. He wasn’t sure whether it really was irritating him, or whether he wanted to acknowledge how much it was turning him on.

  Stef wandered out of the kitchen again, picking up his bag.

  “Here, I’ll carry that,” Danny tried to retrieve it from Stef’s hand. Stef smiled at him, and to Danny’s embarrassment and thrill, leaned forward and kissed him.

  “No need, Florence Nightingale, I’m not entirely helpless.”

  Danny just wanted to escape, as quickly as possible, as he could see how Elisabeth and Annelise were trying, and failing miserably, to conceal their smiles.

  “You do make a really sweet couple,” Annelise sighed, Elisabeth nodding in agreement.

  “Yes, they do, don’t they? I think it’s all very romantic.”

  Danny smiled warily, his cheeks quivering. But he was secretly pleased, too. He appreciated it helped to have Elisabeth and Annelise’s approval, and wondered at Stef’s previous boyfriends; did he measure up to them? Danny hated the idea of Stef even glancing at another guy, so he pushed the thoughts as far back into his mind as he could. Right now, he was taking home his very own beautiful boyfriend, and he knew that tonight, with the help of a bottle of wine, he was going to discover just how well he really did measure up…

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Stef put his bag down on the floor in Danny’s living room. He could hear Danny pottering in the kitchen, the clink of cups, the slow whirr of the kettle starting up. There was the cranking sound of the central heating coming on, and Stef gingerly eased his jacket off, padded out into the passageway, hung it up on the coat peg. He really needed to take a couple of painkillers. Making out with Danny had definitely put a bit of strain on his wound, but Stef had no intention of allowing that to stop him.

  Yet maybe Danny would. Stef wasn’t sure. He knew Danny was nervous, fragile, jumpy. And that guy, Hugo, was a real piece of shiteous work. Stef thought he’d left behind the 'hit first-ask later' philosophy of his younger days, but where Danny was concerned, he felt intensely protective. He knew he was in love, he’d already, and quickly, got over the shock of that, and the kind of guy he’d fallen for, but these racing emotions were leaving Stef uncharacteristically jittery. He wanted to look after Danny, be tender and gentle, whilst at the same time banging his brains out. Stef appreciated the rather challenging dichotomy there. But what a juxtaposition.

  And Danny’s nerves had increased, as the taxi had driven them away. Stef had discreetly held his hand, stroking with his thumb the inside of Danny’s wrist. They’d both gained erections, eve
n the slightest touch of each other setting them off like sexually charged powder kegs. Stef had whispered reassurances in Danny’s ear, but that had only served to turn them on even more. Danny had pulled his hand from Stef’s, looking absently out of the taxi window instead, and Stef had watched him, feeling waves of sadness and uncertainty coming off Danny, and not knowing how to help him. I can love him, though, Stef thought; I can love him enough to make him happy again. I hope. Fuck, I truly hope.

  Now, Stef looked around the incredibly neat living room. Not a thing out of place. Almost clinical in its cleanliness. He looked down at his bag, filled with changes of clothes, toiletries. Condoms. He’d hesitated when he’d gone packing, after Danny’s unexpected invitation. Firstly, Stef knew he wasn’t physically capable of penetrative sex at the moment, but had put the condoms in the bag anyway. It had occurred to him that he wanted Danny to be inside of him as much as he wanted to be inside of Danny. And that had fucking floored him. Stef had had to do a quick reckoning of the last time he’d taken it; racked his brains, and realized it had been a couple of years. He hadn’t always been like that, but it just had worked out that way. Now, he knew because love as well as intense attraction was making his cock go up and down like a fiddler’s elbow, that he wanted Danny to take him. The very thought of it had Stef wondering if he had time to knock one out, whilst Danny had been interrogated downstairs by his mother and Annelise. However, realizing they’d all likely know what he was doing, Stef had erred on the side of temporary sanity.

  So the condoms were packed, but Stef wasn’t going to let Danny know that in case it caused him to go into a tailspin of panic.

  Stef wandered into the kitchen, and wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist. The kettle was steaming, and Danny was boiling. Stef felt the sharp intake of Danny’s breath, and Stef let his tongue lick softly along the side of Danny’s neck. Danny made a tight, pleasured little sound. “Feel good?” Stef murmured, knowing it did.

  “Hmm…yes,” Danny managed, closing his eyes, leaning against Stef’s firm body.

  Stef released Danny, so he could make their coffee. Danny took the cups into the living room, with Stef following, taking in Danny’s lean and slender build, and the perfect shape and sway of his bottom swathed by black denim. Something about Danny in jeans really turned Stef on. Something about Danny? Hell, everything about Danny was turning Stef on.

  They sat down, Danny clutching his coffee cup as if his life depended on it. He wouldn’t look at Stef, instead he kept his eyes on the floor. Stef sat in the armchair, and leaned forward, wincing slightly with the pain, drinking the excellent coffee. Danny had such great taste. The very best taste, Stef acknowledged with his accustomed modesty.

  The silence built, and Danny swallowed nervously, taking the occasional sneak glance at Stef. Who was staring at him, his thoughts very clearly etched in his eyes which were now at smolder level.

  “What would you like to eat, Stef? I’ve got a few menus in one of the drawers; Chinese, Italian?”

  “I’d prefer to eat you, Danny,” came the unequivocally French response.

  Danny cursed himself. Why the hell am I seizing up like this? I mean, it’s Stef. Oh yeh, that’s why.

  It’s Stef.

  Stef, handsome, stunning Stephane. Experienced Stef. Non virginal Stef. Confident and masterful Stef.

  Danny knew he was done for.

  Stef put his cup on the low coffee table. He saw Danny frown slightly. No coaster, you see.

  “Stop stressing about me putting the cup on the table, Danny,” Stef said firmly, and Danny reddened.

  “I wasn’t,” he sniffed.

  Stef raised his dark brows at him. “Oh yes? Listen to me, Princess Sanitizer, everything’s going to be okay. We can have something to eat, a nice and relaxing night, no pressure, not even the merest hint of sex, if that’s how you feel. I meant what I said Danny; we go at your pace, and as slow as you want. Just don’t expect me not to want to kiss you and hold you, and get as hard as hell every time I look at you…”

  Danny smiled. Not even the merest hint of sex?

  That was the thing. Danny wanted to have sex with Stef. He wanted Stef to take him to bed, and make love to him. Only, he hated the idea he was so shockingly nervous. Serial masturbation, and serial fantasizing, of late only about Stef, weren’t exactly the greatest preparations for real life lovemaking. Real life love.

  “What are you thinking?” Stef asked softly.

  Danny thought for a few moments, opted for the truth. “That I’m a complete coward.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I can’t even stand up for myself.”

  “You’re just a little vulnerable at the minute, Danny; there’s nothing wrong with that. But there’s a whole lot wrong with you punishing yourself.”

  “I’ve always done that.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Now, here we are. Alone, as they say, at last,” and Stef reached out, took Danny’s hand. They looked at each other. “Tell me what else you’re thinking, Danny boy.”

  “I’m a bit nervous, Stef.”

  “I know, baby, and that’s perfectly fine, and perfectly normal.”

  Danny nodded, thought a bit more. Stef watched the flush of color over those amazing cheekbones he couldn’t stop kissing.

  “We could…have a shower together?”

  Stef thought he’d misheard. And was hoping his ears weren’t deceiving him, and playing some mean trick borne of wishful thinking.

  “A shower?”

  Danny misunderstood. “Is that too forward Stef? Sorry, I know, you need to take things easy...”

  Stef squeezed Danny’s hand, leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. “I think it’s an excellent idea, Danny. A nice, sensual shower, then something to eat…utterly wonderful, Danny.”

  Slowly, Danny exhaled, holding onto Stef’s hand.

  “Shall...shall we eat first?”

  Stef smiled at him. God, Danny, I love you, he thought.

  “Whatever you want.”

  Danny watched as Stef lifted his wrist to his mouth, started to lick the tracery of fine veins, making Danny’s heart and cock lurch in sexual unison.

  Shower! Fuck the food.

  “Shower?” Danny asked, almost whimpering from Stef's tongue licking the sensitive skin over his wrist. Stef raised his beautiful eyes to him.

  “Shower.”

  Chapter Seven

  Stef just wouldn't make the grade as an actor. Considering he didn’t seem to be suffering from first night nerves. Danny was compensating for both of them, however.

  “It’s okay to be nervous, Danny. So am I.”

  Stef could see Danny making a valiant effort to not appear nervous in the slightest, despite that it was his suggestion they try some getting-to-know-you shower therapy.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine...truly,” Danny reassured, his hands awkwardly moving to the buttons of his shirt, and fumbling for the tiny blighters.

  Stef walked over to him. The central heating was doing its job, and the bathroom was warm, cozy, with the blind pulled halfway down, shielding the slightly open window, piles of soft towels on top of the elegant storage chest, a tingling subtle aroma of citrus emanating from the brown bottles on the wooden shelf next to the shower.

  The shower. Also known, in this moment, in Danny’s world, as the death chamber. He’d done the long walk towards it, up the stairs, Stef following him, holding hands as they did. Onto the landing, and there it was; the smooth tiled palace of fantasies. With the source of those fantasies standing right behind him, stroking Danny’s rigid back soothingly.

  Stef had had to push him forward into the bathroom, without making it seem he was giving Danny a determined shove. For the countless time since he’d been discharged from hospital, Stef was wishing he had more dexterity of movement. The wound was healing well enough, but to the most impatient, nay impetuous man, in France it was preventing Stef from doing what he knew he needed to do at this point in their nascent relatio
nship.

  Take control.

  Not the kind of control he’d been taking, either, since he’d first set eyes on Danny and realized he’d wanted to drag him from his table in Guillaume's, take him into Guillaume's study, shut the door, and demonstrate to Danny just exactly what great customer service really meant. And not the kind of control that involved Danny calling most of the sexual shots at the moment. So Stef had guided him into the palace of fantasies, where the shower awaited, as far as Danny was concerned, like some benign executioner.

  That’s why Stef felt so frustrated. Sexually, yes, but his body wasn’t allowing him to assume the lead and help Danny get over his hang-ups and nerves, and incessant need to keep everything-in-fucking-order!

  Downstairs, Stef had been rolling his eyes and flexing his fingers, using every particle of willpower he had to not push Danny against the wall and kiss him; Stef really wanted to kiss Danny so hard that the soon to be ex-barrister would be seeing double from lack of oxygen.

  Instead, Stef had watched Danny carefully re-arranging things in the living room and on the sofa that Stef had, horror of horrors, shoved aside so he could sit down. Bloody cushions, being turned this way and that, as if some invisible tyrant with a fondness for trigonometry was standing at Danny’s shoulder, urging him on in a demented quest for perfection. Danny had glanced at Stef, and Danny’s face had flooded with a feeling of being caught out. He knew that most of the time he didn’t even know he was doing this fussing. But to understand that Stef was seeing him in his vulnerability, caused Danny to pull up from what he was doing.

  He saw the look in Stef’s eyes, the gorgeous gray of them revealing a slight flinty tone in them, which Danny accurately assessed as Stef moving from tolerant mode to stage one annoyance mode. He had Stef’s stage five anger mode to deal with at some point, but for the moment Danny consoled himself that his boyfriend was only mildly irritated with him.

  So Danny had let Stef take his hand, leave behind the cushions in a state of hideous upheaval, and head for the bathroom.