The French Lesson

by Robyn Elliot

  Want it, Danny thought, his heart racing in time with his thoughts; I think I do. What the hell am I saying! Of course I want it! I want to spend the rest of my life with Stef…God help me. Shit, I’ll have to learn French…and lose all sense of my inner dialogue, of course. And be rude on Le Metro.

  “Danny?”

  “Yeh? Oh sorry, drifting a bit there…”

  Madeleine covered Danny’s hands with her own. “I appreciate this isn’t exactly conventional, but so what? You and Stef love each other, and I have no intention of remaining single for the rest of my life; Fleur will only know love and security, from all of us.”

  Danny nodded, seemingly pensive.

  “Of course, you need time for all this to sink in; poor Danny, we’re piling this on you all at once.”

  “No, it’s just...well, how will we do it? I mean…living in France, and I’ll have to learn the language.”

  “We’ll all help you with that, and your partner’s French!”

  “And how will I earn money? And Stef, he needs to do something more than ever now, to support Fleur, and…and...”

  “Stef has friends at the University and plenty of teaching contacts…and for a while, well, give yourself time to adapt…get to know each other, spend time with Fleur, explore Paris, it’ll all fall into place,” assured Madeleine.

  “I’m…” Danny bit his lower lip, rubbing at his temples with fingers.

  “Scared?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  “You make it all seem so possible, Madeleine.”

  She smiled at him. “Because it is…if you want it; I know that some repair work needs doing between you and Stef, but you have plenty time for that to happen. It’s up to you now, Danny; only you can decide if you can ever forgive him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “God, that’s so fucking beautiful…” Stef murmured, strained from wonder and pleasure.

  Danny was too far gone for speech. But he managed to look again, raising his head with difficulty because all he wanted to do was lie back on the pillow and come and come.

  It was beautiful.

  Danny watched as Stef thrusted in and out of him, the slick sound of dirty sex, the wet, tongue sliding kisses, the irresistible urge to orgasm with enough shouting to shatter glass, combining to create one big ball of gradual, tender forgiveness.

  The fantastic sex helped.

  It wasn’t everything between them, but it was the glue that bound the hurt.

  Stef’s eyes locked with Danny’s, Stef covering Danny’s mouth with his own, gasps of pleasure drowned by kisses of possession and promise.

  They lay in each other’s arms, tangled, sweat damp limbs entwined, and Danny languidly opened his eyes to gaze at the ceiling. Well, here I am, he thought drowsily, in post orgasmic nirvana; in a chateau with whitewashed walls, and beamed ceilings. With a gorgeous Frenchman pressing his weight down on me, his come leaking from me onto another set of sheets we’ll have to wash when Paulette isn’t looking.

  Stef stirred, sighing, grunting with the satisfaction of release, and snuggled next to Danny, wrapping his arm around Danny’s waist, nuzzling into his neck. “I adore you,” he whispered.

  “Hmm, me too.”

  “This is better than listening to Papa droning on about the sacred roof…”

  “Will you stop that? This is a beautiful home, and he’s rightfully proud of it.”

  Stef made a mock sound of pain, and Danny laughed into the pillow. It had only been four months, but it might as well have been four years, considering how quickly Jean-Claude had taken to Danny. Or Dani-elle as he called him, much to Stef’s doubled up amusement. Stef had brought him to the chateau, where a stern looking Papa Clermont had been waiting, along with Elisabeth to smooth the waters if they’d become dangerously choppy.

  Stef needn’t have worried. Danny was becoming the bridge to finding all kinds of happiness. It helped that his Papa and Maman loved Danny from the beginning, and Jean-Claude had been like a child given a sweetie when Danny had professed his fascination of the chateau’s architecture, and the paintings. Well, that was it, and a mutual respect had formed, wherein Danny and Jean-Claude would spend hours talking about the chateau, discussing conservation, artwork, and getting the resources together to fix the blasted roof.

  If at first Stef had been a bit jealous, he soon realized that his own relationship with his Papa was made easier by Danny’s presence. And he understood something of great importance very quickly, which made him happy; that Jean-Claude was a reassuring father figure that Danny so needed, a man of culture and the arts, completely at ease that Danny was his son’s partner.

  The four months had passed quickly but not without some difficulty. There’d been further rows at first, Danny full of fear that it would all go wrong again, being alternately forgiving and accusing with Stef. Stef was adapting too, not so quick to anger, developing patience and responsibility, whilst remaining the sweetly arrogant, loveable guy Danny had fallen hopelessly in love with. The rows had been soothed by making up, lots of teasing and cuddling, lovemaking that was tender, tentative from past hurt, more expressive as time eased the wounds between the two of them. It also helped that Stef told Danny he loved him every day, holding Danny in his arms, reassuring with soft kisses and gentle caressing.

  They hadn’t made love at first. It wasn’t a leaping into bed situation, despite how they wanted each other. The lack of sex was a distraction, but they were making up for it now, and Danny was grateful that the chateau walls were pretty damned thick. They’d needed to talk first, then allow the heartbreak to have its moments, with a day by day reaffirming of their love.

  But Stef had continued to change for the better. He began to accept that he needed Danny as much as Danny needed him; they were melded together, not just by their bodies, but in heart and soul too. They were meant for each other, corny as that seemed.

  But hell, they’d always been meant for each other…

  They’d been living at the chateau for the last three months whilst looking for somewhere they both liked. Before that, Danny stayed at Stef’s friend’s apartment, with Stef staying at Madeleine’s to give Danny some emotional respite and thinking time. It was Madeleine who kept Stef reined in, because all he wanted to do was be with Danny and smother him with love and lust and passion, desperate to make up for the mess he’d made – and terrified he’d lose Danny again. Too soon, she told him, and as ever she was right. So, albeit with reluctance, Stef busied himself by continuing to grow up and proving to Danny how much he loved him; spending time with Fleur, getting some freelance lecturing work through one of his contacts, taking Danny for explorations of Paris, sitting together in beautiful parks, holding hands, drinking coffee in the elegant cafe, just looking at each other, regaining trust, talking, being.

  Falling in love for good, healing along the way the pain both of them had carried.

  Danny listened to Stef’s sleep-slow breathing. He wanted to drift off himself, nuzzled against Stef’s firm, warm body, but Madeleine and Fleur were arriving this morning, very shortly, and staying for the week, so he nudged Stef’s shoulder.

  “Stef, darling, wake up…”

  Stef grunted, and wrapped his arm tighter about Danny’s waist. Stef made an indeterminate noise, that nevertheless suggested mild irritation.

  “Stephane…we need to get up, come on babe.”

  Bebe.

  In French too. Okay, Danny wasn’t the world’s most natural linguist and it didn’t help that Stef teased him, but already Danny could maintain some conversation with Stef in French. He’d quickly cottoned on when Stef tried to teach him swear words when talking to Jean-Claude, and Elisabeth gave him lots of advice on how the English coped with the French habit of talking a million miles a minute.

  And it was sexy too. It turned Stef on, to listen to Danny speaking French to him, loving how he was learning his beloved language. Danny accepted that their French lesso
ns usually ended up in the shower, or in bed, Stef virtually ripping Danny’s clothes off.

  Stef groaned dramatically now, and slowly sat up. Danny trailed his fingers up and down Stef’s spine, knowing the effect it had on his man.

  “You’re so slutty,” Stef murmured, looking at Danny over his shoulder, “merci, mon Dieu!” Danny got out of bed, stretched, knowing Stef’s eyes were admiring his lean body. “Shower, now!” Stef said, leaping out of bed, grabbing Danny’s hand and pulling him into the en-suite bathroom.

  “God, where do you get the energy?” Danny asked, laughing.

  “Don’t tell me you’re complaining? Besides, I always need a substantial breakfast…you know, something I can get my teeth into.”

  The shower was great. It was always great. They had some of their best sex in that shower and Stef was insisting that the apartment they were looking for had to have a walk in shower that accommodated the kind of fucking that made space a prerequisite.

  Warm, soapy water, Danny had quickly learned, was a highly effective lubricant when he was really turned on and ready to go. Like now, just like now, as Stef knelt down, spread open Danny’s white, smooth bottom and proceeded to taste Danny into oblivion. Vaguely, Danny was aware that the water had turned cooler at some point – which meant that Jean-Claude was messing about again with the piping. Stef was also concentrating on working with piping, of an entirely erotic variety, and the dull whoosh of the water against the tiles muffled the cries of his very proper Englishman’s tongue-propelled orgasm somewhat perfectly.

  This entente had taken cordiale to an entirely new level.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Just look at them, Guillaume. I never would have thought it. How about you?”

  Serge nudged Guillaume's arm, and Guillaume gave him a resigned look.

  “Never, if I'm honest. I admit it. But, yes…look at them.”

  Stef’s brother and his friend did just that. At the happy couple.

  Danny and Stef were dressed in immaculately tailored navy suits. A wedding present from Caroline. There was a very pale, delicate lemon rosebud in each of their lapels. The dark blue brought out Stef’s swarthy, handsome sexiness, whilst for Danny it made him look impossibly delicate, impossibly blonde and impossibly beautiful.

  Everyone was looking at them. Serge, the friend who had loaned Danny his apartment, other friends, including Katharine, they were all looking at two people who were evidently so much in love that the world around them seemed…well, a bit irrelevant, really.

  Fear not. The mothers made sure the boys stayed on terra firma. For the moment.

  Elisabeth and Caroline sipped their champagne, exchanging knowing, conspiratorial glances. For Caroline, she felt particularly relieved that when Stef had asked Danny to marry him, Danny had said yes without hesitation. She couldn’t bear the thought that her son might have lost his courage to continue loving Stef. It seemed worth it now. So very worth it. She watched Stef, her new son in law, curl his arm around Danny’s waist and bring him closer to him.

  Danny leaned instinctively into Stef. Danny was talking to Delphine and Katharine, his face bright with happiness, chattering excitedly, laughing, glancing at Stef, who was making the women laugh at something he was saying. And then, unable to stop themselves, Stef and Danny’s lips brushed against each other, tips of noses caressing, before resuming their conversation. They’d been like that all day, since the ceremony.

  They were always like that now.

  And so this story could continue apace. It could tell of Danny’s adjustment to living in Paris, with a turbulent Frenchman, not to mention being a father to an adorable little girl called Fleur. It could tell about Stephane and how he grew more and more into a loving partner and father, blissfully happy with all those things he’d always been terrified of, but needed; love and contentment.

  Thus, here’s the deal. Danny and Stephane had taught each other how to be happy and brave and true to their hearts. They’d learned their lessons, admittedly the hard way, but so what?

  Love really does conquer all, in the end...and that’s the best French lesson of them all.

  C'est finis...

  ...vraiment

  robynelliotauthor.com

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  'THROUGH A GLASS BRIGHTLY'

  “A very light fun read. Romantic, cute love story. Very enjoyable.”

  Amazon.com 5 star review.