by Kelly Fox
So.
Now we are in his beautiful condo, ready to take the next major step.
Fucking finally.
After, like, an hour of pre-scene agreements—okay, more like thirty seconds, where we decide that “no” is a fine safe word, and to use thumbs up or down for when the mouth is occupied, but still—I want to get to all of the sex. I’m already naked, and Jean-Pierre is wearing one of his Joshua Kane suits because he knows I like them. The juxtaposition between the two of us is… fucking hot. “Can we do the kinky stuff now?” I ask, bouncing up on the balls of my feet.
He smiles, shaking his head at me. “Yes, we can.”
As agreed upon, we hold each other’s hands and look into each other’s eyes for a few seconds while doing breathing exercises, just to get into the headspace that we need to be in. I complain, but it’s actually kinda hot to look into his eyes and imagine him fucking me. We smile at each other at the end of the breathing exercises, and Jean-Pierre waits for the signal. I hold on for a few more seconds, testing his patience and getting only heart eyes in return. Finally, I let go of control and give him a single nod.
“Jake. Kneel.”
God, what those words do to me. Relief cascades down the muscles of my neck, shoulders, chest, and back. The act of kneeling is like a warm cloak around me, all of the stress of the day falls away, and all I have in front of me is this man. This enormous, beautiful, sexy man. I look up and down his powerful body, ready for whatever he wants.
Jean-Pierre palms my face, saying, “Jake, you are safe, yes?” I grin up at him, and he runs his hands through my hair. It feels so good, the sound of his nails dragging across my scalp.
“Jake, unbutton my pants and take out my cock.”
Oui, mon ange.
Jean-Pierre
The way Jake is looking up at me is something I don’t think I could have ever fully imagined for myself. I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I had this need, this desire in me. But it’s like having a vague idea and then having someone bring that vague idea into full color, better than you could have imagined for yourself. Looking down at my fast-hardening dick in his hands, that’s exactly how I feel.
“Put my cock in your mouth, Jake.”
He licks his lips and frees the rest of me from the expensive fabric, rubbing his cheek against my aching flesh. A gentle press of skin to let me know that he’s there. He opens his mouth and only takes my head into his mouth, gently, taking his time, letting his lips slide and slip over the thick crown, sucking ever so lightly.
This gentle sucking isn’t enough for me, but I can see his hands twitching and I know that he wants to touch himself, to relieve the ache that must be growing in his balls. I want him to come so hard that he forgets his name, and to get him there, I must make him wait. He’ll wait because I said so, and… I like that very much.
His mouth against the sensitive head sends electricity down my spine, and I run my hands through his hair, pulling softly at the roots. He looks up and I flit my eyes from his mouth to my cock. His small nod shows that he understands, and he opens his mouth wide to take me in more deeply. He sucks in his cheeks, nearly bringing me off my feet. I’d had the odd blow job here and there before my marriage, but this is something else entirely. He’s making love to me with his mouth, and I can’t believe that this is what I was missing the whole time.
It’s not just because he’s beautiful, it’s the way he’s beautiful. I call him my raven because he’s dark in spirit, yet iridescent. People who have never been broken could never be this kind of beautiful.
I tighten my grip in his hair but keep it just this side of pain, and his groan is everything. I can feel him begin to tighten it up, getting excited about what he is doing to me. Going deeper, taking my cock to the back of his throat, his lips brush the flocked fabric and hard zipper. He keeps pushing, pushing my cock down his throat until he gags.
Mon dieu. I was so upset when he told me he’d cut off his own air supply the first time we were together. But… when he’d let me control the very oxygen he was breathing, even for a few seconds… he wasn’t the only one who came hard. And now I know what it does to him, that little gagging noise combined with the rustle and binding of expensive brocade puts me right at the edge.
I was honestly surprised that this made the cut. Seems like oxygen deprivation would trigger him more than tight spaces, but he said it was weirdly the opposite. I check to make sure, and he directs those knowing eyes up at me, giving me a sweet little thumbs-up.
“Do you like choking on my cock, mon corbeau?”
He smiles around me. Smiles while going deeper. Fuck, that little innocent smile, that desire to please me… it does me in. I capture his face, thrusting deeper and deeper, gagging him a little until I can’t hold back the orgasm that is pressing against my spine.
“Jake,” I gasp out, and he wraps his arms around me, working the head of my cock with his throat. On a groan I go deeper still, spilling desire and love and need. His moans elicit a few more gagging pumps, a few more spurts of warm liquid down his throat.
Shuddering, I pull out of his warm mouth and drag him up from the floor, devouring his mouth with mine. I slip my tongue into his willing mouth, tasting him, tasting me. I’d planned on letting him come after the blow job, but now I’m greedy for his body.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jake
Holy fuck. I guess I just really like being told what to do.
I haven’t even come yet, and this is already the hottest sex I’ve ever had. My cock is so hard and ready, and my balls ache with the need to release. I glance up at Jean-Pierre for direction, and he’s looking like a man who’s had a meal and is still hungry for more.
Gently, he picks me up and puts me on the bed, then arranges me so that I’m on my hands and knees. Oh god, yes. Please fuck me. I lean on my forearms with both thumbs in the air because I don’t want the damned question, I just want him to… everything. Growling and rumbly, he spreads my cheeks and lowers his head, drawing his wide, wet tongue from the back of my balls to the top of my crack.
Again and again, until I’m a whimpering and squirming mess. Jean-Pierre places his heavy hand on my hip, calm and soothing and no fucking joke. I settle into the commanding touch and spread my legs a little farther apart.
Fuuuuuuuucck. Yes.
Please and thank you.
Jean-Pierre
Jake is like good clay in my hands. Pliant, wanting to be whatever it is that my hands want to shape. His little thumbs-up is adorable and, more importantly, it means that he trusts me to take him where he needs to go. Where we both need to go. I kneel between his legs and lean back on my heels, taking in his deliciously strong body, the tattoo that follows his lines so beautifully, the taut need of his muscles. He is exquisite, and when I place my dark hand on his milky skin, we are beautiful together, the sun and the universe, like his art. I run my hands up his back, gripping his shoulders as my kisses follow my hands. My cock slips in the little space between his balls and thighs, and he squeezes, making me groan both for how it feels now and as a preview of what is to come.
I kiss the back of his neck as I slip my hand around the front, compressing the sides of his neck. Just a little, not enough to cut off his breathing entirely but enough to make him sip oxygen. His snarl and groan are the good kinds, and he squeezes his thighs even harder while pushing back against me. My cock throbs, needing more pressure, needing to be inside of him.
“Jake, lube and condoms.”
He releases me, and I mourn the loss of pressure. He grabs the lube and condoms from my nightstand, then turns around and presents them to me on open palms.
I separate one of the condoms and hand it to him. He smiles, never breaking eye contact as he opens the wrapper, discards it on the nightstand, and begins rolling the condom down my hard shaft.
I’ve never had a man touch me like this. Quick, dry, uncomfortable hand jobs, sure. But a sensual man slowly rolling a condom down
my cock? I haven’t even thought to dream of such things, and the reality is better than what I could have dreamed of anyway. Once the condom is on, he uses a generous amount of lube, stroking me with his hands, his eyes wide with wonder and a bit of fear.
I place my hands on his arms so that we are looking into each other’s eyes. “I’ll never hurt you. We’ll take as long as we need to.”
He reaches out, his hands curious as they seek the ridges and veins of my dick, his fingers sliding the hood up and down over the sensitive ridge as he frees my balls from my pants. “But… what if I want to hurt? At least a little?”
I reach out and squeeze his neck again, and he arches as he gasps for air, his cock becoming rigid and flushed like the rest of him. “Like this, mon corbeau?”
“Yes, mon ange,” he hisses. “Please.”
“Hands and knees, then.”
He scrambles into position, reaching behind him to prepare himself for me. He looks again and I raise my chin. One, then two of his fingers tease in and out of his hole, and his eyes grow heavy below his thick dark fringe of eyelashes. After a few moments, I position myself between his thighs again, brushing his hand away, replacing his fingers with my longer, thicker digits. He grunts with the added stretch and pushes back on my fingers, greedy to be filled and fucked. I lean over and grab the lube, and he whimpers so sweetly as my fingers delve more deeply into his body.
I drip the lube at the junction of my fingers and his body, then pull back, joining a third finger with the other two. I thrust fast and he slumps forward on a whine before pushing back against my fingers. My cock throbs in anticipation.
I denied myself the pleasures of the flesh for so long that I thought it meant I didn’t want it. Watching as my thick fingers thrusting in and out of his body, I know for certain that that is not the case.
Jake’s moaning has become chanting. “S’il vous plaît, s’il vous plaît. Mon ange, s’il vous plaît.”
Slowly I remove my fingers, a task made more difficult by the fact that his body chases them, not wanting even a second of emptiness. I drip more lube in his hole and on my cock, then position myself right against his entrance. I take my time, pressing forward until I push through that first ring of muscle.
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he looks back, silently requesting more. I smile and stroke his cheekbone as I leverage my hand against his shoulder, pushing farther and farther into his tight body. He’s still looking back at me, and I’m captivated as I watch his eyes widen in pain and pleasure. He is so fucking tight that my cock throbs, wanting to thrust fast and hard, to split him in two, but I hold back. Eyes still locked on each other, his mouth drops open, panting. Panting and nodding, wanting more, wanting all of it. I push again, and he allows his head to drop forward as he rocks back against me. Slowly, I slip inside of him and hold there, reveling in the feel of him around me. This entire year, maybe my entire life, has been about this moment.
I send up a silent prayer. Please, Jake, please love me. Please allow me to love you. Please.
I feel his muscles relax around me, and I pull back and push forward and back and forward, a few gentle strokes until I get a disgruntled and impatient little whimper from my beautiful boy. “Are you complaining, Jake?” I say, allowing command in my voice. He turns his head back to me, the sheepish head shake nearly my undoing. “That’s what I thought.”
Smiling, I pull back until my crown resists his tight ring of muscle, and then I drive forward, fast and merciless, until I bottom out on his high-pitched moan. I grip his hips and begin to thrust into him the way I’d always dreamed I’d be able to. Hard, fast, to the hilt. His cries and moans drive me forward again and again and again, and he tightens his grip on me and meets each thrust with that needy push back.
I angle myself down just a little bit until my sensitive head brushes against the spongy cushion of his prostate. A gasp falls from his lips, and I nearly come from the thrill of finding his pleasure. I’ve got him now. Dumbledore had it right: books are an inexhaustible form of magic.
“Jake, I want to see you, baby. I want to see your face. I want to see your lips and the flush on your cheeks and neck.”
Wordlessly, Jake pulls away from my body and flips onto his back. He grabs a pillow and shoves it under his ass before opening his legs wide, opening himself up for me, showing me his pretty, used hole. I lean down on my forearms, giving him clearance between our bodies, kissing him as I slowly, slowly push back into him.
“Faster. Please, faster.”
His wish is my command. I fill him quickly, and the ecstasy on his face makes my balls draw up tight and hard.
“You’re more beautiful below me than I’ve ever seen you before.”
His eyes flutter open, and he focuses on my face, bringing his hand up to my cheek. “I love you, Jean-Pierre. I love you so much. I hope I can deserve you.”
Those few words make my heart soar and then break in two. How could he still think that he doesn’t deserve me?
“You are never to doubt my love for you again. Nor are you ever to doubt how much you deserve it.” I cup his face as I say this and lean in for a punishing kiss.
“Oui, I promise to try.”
His face, so innocent and debauched and beautiful and sad and broken and whole, is everything to me. I thrust twice, three more times, and take him in my hand, pumping with each thrust, angling to hit that spot just so.
He quickly flies apart under me, moaning under his breath, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
With a great and terrible shudder, his body gives up an orgasm so stunning, so much like the art on his wall, on his body, his cum is a gift on my hand. His clench pushes me over an edge I didn’t think I’d ever reach, and my entire body stiffens as I spill over with evidence of my passion and love for this man underneath me.
I continue thrusting into him until I feel spent of all of my cum, until his cock quiets against his belly. I slow my thrusts gradually and stroke his face with the back of my fingers, our eyes ensnared, neither of us able to look anywhere else.
Tears spill down the sides of his face, and he laughs, so beautiful. My own eyes are overcome, and we lie there, me on top of and inside of him, taking in each other with wonder and all of the love we’ve denied ourselves during these many months.
He brushes aside my tears, saying, “Jean-Pierre, those weren’t just words in the heat of passion. They are as real and as true outside of this room, and they have been for a long time.”
I lean down, putting my forehead on his, letting my tears baptize his sweet face. “It is the same for me, mon amour. I’ve loved you so long that, now that I’ve truly been with you, now that you’ve changed my life with your body and your words… I cannot stand to be away from you ever again.”
His face, ethereal, red, messy, perfect… crumples into tears. Slowly, carefully I slide my cock from his body, making quick, if messy, work of the condom. I lie on my side and open my arms to him, the gesture unleashing in him a torrent of emotions that he’d held on to for so long. He tucks in against my body and cries into my shoulder and allows me to hold him gently, gently. His sadness crescendos into terrible sobs, and I don’t know what else to do other than to hold him and tell him with my body that I am his, that I am here, and that I am not going anywhere.
As quickly as they started, the tears and the tension leave his body, and he slumps against me, washed clean of so much hurt and pain. We lie there for a few minutes more, and then I gently pull away from him and come back with a warm washcloth, first wiping down his tearstained face, then his cum-painted body. I lie back on the bed and pat the mattress to the side of me. “Come here, Jake.”
I stack the pillows behind my head and pull his pliant body over mine. He squirms in protest, making a tiny disgruntled sound that is so adorable.
I pull back and laugh. “Oh Jake, I…” I bite my lower lip and run my fingers through his hair. “I like having sex with you.”
My dark raven smiles, far mor
e broadly than is his custom, and it is glorious. He crawls up my body and nuzzles into my neck again. “I like having sex with you too, mon ange.”
I, Jean-Pierre Sehene, refugee, snazzy dresser, and basketball legend, had sex for the first time tonight. Sex, that is, that matches what I’d only dared hope for in dreams. I go to sleep with a smile on my face, knowing that I have cared for Jake, and that he is mine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jake
Waking up in Jean-Pierre’s bed is as amazing as I’d hoped it would be. I check my body, how it feels against his, the weight of his draped arm on me, and… it feels like home. Safe, sweet, dirty home.
“Mon corbeau. Good morning.” Jean-Pierre’s voice is low and rumbly, and it is sexy to hear first thing in the morning.
“Good morning, mon amour. I love your bed.”
“And my bed loves you in it,” he says, a wolfish grin on his face.
I push away from him, playfully. “It’s far too early in the morning for that, and I have a sunrise yoga class to get to.”
“I suppose that is allowed,” he says, smirking as he pulls the sheet down past my nipples, then licks and sucks on the one closest to him.
I don’t know that I’ve ever considered myself a playful-in-the-morning kind of person, but perhaps Jean-Pierre has made me a convert. Our kink therapy sessions include some really amazing homework, and I’m enjoying how it’s brought us together. For instance, we figured out that I don’t have to kneel to get into a good headspace, though I still enjoy that tremendously. A simple command is all it takes, if I am willing, and a simple thought on my part or release on his is all we need to end it.