The French Lesson

by Robyn Elliot

  Stef grew still, from rampant to resigned, resting his palms on Danny’s thighs. Hitherto, that would have been a very nice experience for both of them, but Caroline Hastings’ sudden arrival, lovely woman though she was, was about as welcome as a dose of bromide in a knocking shop.

  Danny looked down at Stef, who winked at him. “Stop it,” Danny mouthed silently.

  “I’m okay Mum, just give me a second?” Danny held his breath. He knew his mum. She had the ability to see through doors and walls with x-ray vision, and the intuitive knack of reading her son’s mind before Danny had opened his mouth to tell her what was on it. Speaking of mouths…

  Stef leaned forward and pressed a soft, wet kiss on Danny’s cock, which had the immediate effect of making junior stand upright, ship shape and Bristol fashion all over again. Danny noted that Stef hadn’t flinched an inch, even as Caroline had threatened to rain on their sex parade.

  “Shall I make some coffee?” Caroline said. It wasn’t a question. She was already going down the stairs as Stef was going down on her son.

  Danny winced, partly from embarrassment at his mother making her unexpected appearance, but mainly from the overwhelming urge to come while his mother was pottering away in the kitchen, the cafetiere being fished out of one of the cupboards, the coffee percolating blissfully.

  It was bliss, all right. Fuck, it felt great, Danny thought, as he watched Stef resume working on his cock like the expert the Frenchman so evidently was. Sucked a lot of cocks, Danny’s feverish, insecure mind registered; what a technique, I think that’s technique, isn’t it? That’s got to be great technique, Danny frantically imagined, as Stef’s tongue teased and circled the tip of Danny’s cock, sweet little flicks, bringing forth more of what was about to flood Stef’s mouth about-any-time...

  Now!

  Stef engulfed Danny as the first spurts said hello in the best way possible; down Stef’s throat, swallowing with practiced ease, savoring the heat of liquid sex as if ambrosia from the gods. It was Danny’s now uncontrollable hip thrusting and his soft, suppressed little moans of almost pained ecstasy that made Stef tip over his own precipice; four, five strokes, and Danny’s bathroom floor was quickly covered with Stef’s somewhat noisier release. Vaguely, through the haze of receding orgasm, Danny hoped the shower was blanking out the sound of the finale of one hot oral sex session.

  After a few moments to recover, Stef stood up, grimacing slightly. Then, he realized it was just his knees that were twinging a bit from the tiled floor; his wound had evidently responded well to the steam. And the sex. He took Danny in his arms, kissed him tenderly on the lips. “See? Nothing to be nervous about, babe; you were amazing, Mr. Hastings, and you taste pretty great too.”

  Danny tasted himself on Stef’s tongue, and it was the best aphrodisiac he’d ever taste.

  “Hmm,” Danny managed, leaning against Stef who held him, stroking Danny’s back with his fingertips in lazy swirls.

  “Is that ‘hmm’ that was wonderful?” Stef whispered in Danny’s ear, already knowing the answer. He just wanted to hear Danny talk dirty one more time before they went downstairs to face Caroline’s benign but no less insistent style of interrogation – she and Elisabeth might have been separated at birth.

  Stef felt Danny stir in his arms. “You know it was, you vain frog…”

  Stef chuckled in agreement. “Just wait until mommy dearest has gone…I’m going to blow you in every room of the house.”

  Danny groaned, and reluctantly pulled away from Stef. God he was handsome, Danny noted for the countless time, the steam making Stef’s hair wavy and damp, his chest hairs dark from sweat. Danny’s cock joined in the appreciation, but this wasn’t the time for round two, seeing as the coffee was on and Caroline was doubtless sitting in the kitchen, glancing occasionally at the ceiling and wondering when her son was going to put in an appearance.

  “Stef, I need to deflate.”

  Stef laughed, as he watched Danny pad over to the shower and turn it off.

  “Come on then, Danny boy, let’s get this over with.” Stef went to the sink, splashed cold water on his face and chest. Danny’s eyes moved with languor over Stef’s naked body, and the deflation remained still in some doubt. Lean muscle, perfectly tight bottom, flawless, strong back, with beautifully shaped shoulders; not muscle bound, quite slender actually, but just so gorgeous that Danny stood watching Stef and couldn’t help but drool with longing. And love.

  Stef dried his face and chest, bent down and retrieved his damp tee shirt and jeans. He pulled them on with abandon, hardly registering the steam still filling the air. He paused, and then moved his body, this way and that, gingerly at first, but yes, definitely. More flexible now, as long as he didn’t do somersaults any time soon, and as long as he was careful, Stef was quickly realizing he’d be able to love Danny with all the flexibility of a yogi.

  Now that was enlightenment...

  “Where are you going?” Danny hissed at him, as Stef opened the bathroom door. The steam was starting to evaporate as quickly as Danny’s fledgling erection.

  “Downstairs…where else?” came Stef’s ironic riposte. Before Danny could register any form of protest in the shape of ‘let me go and see her first, then I introduce you!’ he was frantically pulling on his own clothes as he heard Stef tread confidently down the stairs.

  Caroline was busy depressing the plunger on the cafetiere. Down it went, sinking smoothly into the velvet darkness.

  “Hello, I’m Stephane.” Stef came towards her, extended his hand, smiling at Caroline’s consternation with barely concealed satisfaction. Momentarily, Caroline Hastings was taken off guard. But the operative term was definitely momentarily. Nothing she appreciated more than a shower dampened Frenchman standing before her, with his tee shirt clinging to his chest, whilst the dark stubble on Stef’s face added to the overall effect of Le Wow!

  Mother and son’s boyfriend shook hands, as Stef commenced operation charm offensive. Not that there was any need. In the time it had taken her to turn around, shake Stef’s hand and register the unassailable fact that Danny was a very lucky man, the wedding was already in full planning mode.

  Caroline and Elisabeth. The possibilities of the two titans of romantic matchmaking and wedding of the year candidature actually forming a partnership, was on a par with Zeus chaining Prometheus to a rock for playing with that hot, fiery stuff. Who would prevail? Which mother’s influence would override the other’s? For now, it was enough that Caroline was hardly aware that she was laughing and talking with the forward Frenchman, whilst playing absently with her immaculate ash blonde hair.

  Danny hovered at the bottom of the stairs, groaning inwardly at the tinkling, flirty laughter of his mother emanating from the kitchen. The smell of coffee was divine, however, and Daniel took a deep breath and entered the den; he was pretty sure he didn’t reek of sex any more, having washed away every trace of Stef that had made his skin tingle.

  “Oh, darling, there you are,” Caroline gushed, barely glancing at him. Danny rolled his eyes in familiar consternation. She poured her son a cup of coffee, then reverted back to Stef, her fingers moving unwittingly again to the soft tendrils of her hair, twirling and unfurling, as she asked Stef questions at spitfire pace.

  Stef was leaning languidly, relaxed as a cat in a pool of sunlight, against one of the kitchen benches, nonchalantly drinking his coffee as he charmed Caroline to the point of her becoming supine. Danny gave him a knowing look, and Stef’s eyes swept over Danny’s lean body with an undeniable glance of possession. Shit, there I go again, Danny thought, his cock springing up in a nanosecond, with the idea of Stef just…well, taking control. Not here, Danny tried to reason. Cock, are you listening to me? Not-here-okay?

  Danny kissed Caroline, who patted his cheek tenderly. She managed to drag her eyes away from Stef, to scrutinize her son with the intensity of a camp commandant checking for tunnels. “Well, I’m glad you’re alive,” she observed, glancing over at Stef. She shrugg
ed for emphasis, as if to imply that here was a most errant and absent son. What got to Danny, however, was how Stef joined in, nodding sagely at Caroline. Yeh, here’s the image; oh indeed, Madame Hastings, I’ve been looking after your mad son, and I did tell him he should ring you back, but what can you do? Huh, kids...

  Danny sat down next to his mother, shooting Stef a warning look that denoted both disbelief and disapproval at Stef’s blatantly false impression of Mother Teresa with issues. “Of course I’m alive.” Danny winced. He didn’t want to sound defensive, only he felt Stef had just pulled a flanker on him by meeting Caroline before he’d introduced him to the Star Chamber that was occasionally his mother.

  “Yes, my darling, you are!” Caroline opened her arms, and Danny leaned into her, as she cuddled him and kissed his hair.

  Stef turned away, deciding that some things weren’t meant for his eyes after all. Except Danny’s beautiful body; who’d have thought, Stef mused, as he helped himself to another coffee, all that angst and virgin pallor wrapped up in the hottest Christmas, birthday and any-time present a hot-blooded Frenchman might lose himself over. Too late. Stef turned back, to look at his lovely and loveable boyfriend. Soft, fair hair, framing a face perhaps a little too pinched and pale, but that could be remedied by a lot of sex morning, noon and night to get Danny's capillaries flowing. Making sure the blood went to every essential organ, super powered by Stef’s increasing horniness, love and aching need for the guy sitting nearby, being suffocated by mother love.

  And Caroline was one good looking woman, Stef quickly appraising her as he’d strode into the kitchen, deliberately wanting to take her off guard. He now knew where Danny got his lovely, fine hair, and pale, crystal clear eyes. “Excuse me for a second, please.” Stef swooped down over Danny, took Danny’s surprised face between his hands, and Stef kissed him, hard, heavy, a wet, inescapably tongue tangling kiss, before he left the room and leapt back up the stairs, two at a time.

  Danny’s mouth hung open. Stef had just snogged him right in front of his mother, so close in fact, that Caroline would have seen the tongue jostling and heard the saliva slick caressing, had she not raised her approving eyebrows and glanced away for all the time her son was being kissed silly by France’s finest export to date.

  “Good grief, darling…he’s absolutely gorgeous!” Caroline got up, starting unpacking the bags of food she’d brought, and putting them absently into Danny’s cupboards. Danny felt a mixture of embarrassment, delirium and excitement that made him want to rush up those stairs after his man.

  Danny blew out his cheeks, denoting his agreement with his mother’s assessment of his…boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. God, that sounded great. Jackpot, lottery, premium bonds all won at once in the shape of lean, saturnine French loving.

  “Katharine did tell me he was stunning, but I suppose when you are confronted with someone who looks like Stephane, it takes the wind out of one’s sails,” Caroline mused, pausing with a tin of beans in her hands, her other hand twirling an ash blonde tendril again.

  Danny got up and started rummaging through the bags. He was glad he’d put the long sweater on, it covered the near permanent swelling in his groin.

  “Mum, he’s gay,” Danny said, giving her a wry little smile. Caroline stopped mid-twine.

  “Well, of course, I know that, darling!”

  “Sure? You were flirting for the home team back there.”

  Caroline swatted her son’s arm. “Oh for goodness sake, Daniel, I’m not in my coffin yet, you know!”

  “Did I say you were?”

  “I am still allowed, at my vast age, to appreciate a handsome man.”

  “Do you think he’s better looking than me?” Danny asked, half serious, totally jealous.

  “Oh good grief, you’re my son!”

  “No, I meant…do you think we look, you know, suited?”

  Caroline stood behind Danny, and wrapped her arms about his waist as she leaned against him.

  “You are my beautiful, darling boy; and Stephane is extremely lucky to be with you. Make sure he doesn’t forget that.”

  “No, Ma-ma.”

  Caroline sighed, resting her cheek against Danny’s back. “Your father is likely turning in his grave, of course.”

  “He doesn’t have a grave, we cremated him.”

  “A technicality, darling; you know what I mean. All those years of you feeling you didn't match the silly man's expectations...”

  “What, you mean a barrister, a chain smoker and a philandering bastard?”

  Caroline resumed unpacking the shopping bags, a welcome if prosaic distraction from the knowledge that the late Peter Daniel Hastings had been an amoral shit who was ashamed that his son was studious, artistic, shy…oh, and gay. Yes, the shame of it, for the house of Hastings, that long line of successful barristers who had spent their careers striking terror into the most hard-bitten of judges, to have in its ranks a….wait for it…homosexual. Oh, whatever next, Danny used to sneer, when his father berated him for his sexuality, that we actually start shifting into the twenty first century and stop thinking female lawyers are an abhorrence of nature as well?

  “I just meant that he can’t spoil your happiness, darling; and you are happy, I can see that. Stephane has obviously helped you with your…nerves.”

  Danny sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t have a communicable disease, Mum; but I do have obsessions and compulsive disorder, and worry about everything from whether the fridge is self-defrosting at an acceptable and economic rate, to the idea that I am jobless, direction-less and am sick and tired of washing my hands thirty times a day so that I can breathe without inducing palpitations.”

  “Have you made love yet?” Typical Caro, in one fell swoop from the specter of Peter, to Danny’s ‘nerves’ to the intimacies of gay sex.

  “Mum!” Danny couldn’t stop the blush of embarrassment flooding his face.

  He could hear Stef coming back down stairs, the icing on the cake of his humiliation.

  “A perfectly natural question!”

  “Yes, mother, from a friend!”

  “Don’t be prudish, it doesn’t suit you,” Caroline admonished cheerfully.

  “Have you no boundaries as a parent?” Danny muttered, only half joking.

  “Not where my son’s happiness is concerned. And Stephane, I am surmising, is highly experienced whereas you aren’t.”

  Danny pulled a martyred face. “Oh, thank you so much…don’t worry, I’ll keep you informed of every minor detail, with the proviso you officially disown me as your son.”

  “You need some love and sex in your life, darling. It’s long overdue, and you’ve been so unwell these last few months; I only wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “No, Mum, you were being your usual interfering, albeit adorable, self in wanting to know if Stef and I are serious or just…er,” Danny fumbled for the right descriptor.

  “Sex partners?” In Stef breezed, without an inhibition in the world to trouble him. For a flicker of a heartbeat, Danny hated him for it.

  “Well, yes!” Caroline agreed, equally unabashed.

  Danny surrendered, sinking down again into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, warm cup of coffee cradled in his long, elegant fingers. “Why am I surrounded by people who lack any sense of internal dialogue?” he opined.

  Stef came to him, wrapped his arms about Danny’s shoulders, nuzzling into his neck. Danny glanced at his mother, who was gazing beatifically at the tender little gesture, and he knew, he just absolutely knew, Caro was thinking of what shade she should wear for the nuptials.

  “Because, gorgeous,” Stef nuzzled further into Danny, his hair, his skin, as if inhaling him like some rare essence, to which Stef was increasingly addicted to, “you carry the world’s anxieties in that head of yours.” Stef gently kissed Danny’s temples, making Danny shiver with arousal, despite the proximity of his very liberal minded mother.

  Stef sat down next to Dan
ny, still with an arm around Danny’s shoulders. Naturally, had Caro not been there, this would have heralded a rather spectacular and lengthy making out session, culminating, doubtless, in the mutual sucking of cock. Instead, they settled for Danny pinking up nicely, and Stef knowing he’d reap the whirlwind of his teasing soon enough.

  “Where in France do you live, Stephane?” Caroline asked nonchalantly. Danny raised one eyebrow imperceptibly. Talk about loaded questions. Ah yes, Danny knew his mother. That one seemingly general question was actually the enemy at the gates; translation for ‘do you intend to hurt my darling son?’ ‘are you going to cheat on him and if you do, will you miss your testicles?’ and ‘please go easy with my sweet Danny, because he has been lonely a long time, and I will never tell you that sometimes he has cried in my arms from the storm inside his head, the worn out dejection of endless checking, washing, checking, the ache for love and passion and companionship, for Danny is the most beautiful, loving and caring man you will ever meet; so treat him right, Frenchman’…you get the idea.

  Stef sat back in his chair, and let his fingers caress the nape of Danny’s neck as he did so. Danny wondered why Stef was being so eager to assert his territory with Caroline. It suggested, for the very first time since Stef had come into Danny’s life, that the master craftsman at charm and seduction might just, possibly, have a bit of defensiveness to him. Why, Danny wondered. The thought flitted around in his head for a few short moments, but the distraction of his mother glancing from him to Stef and Stef’s caressing fingers – mainly, Stef’s caressing fingers, truth be told – was enough to leave the worm of discomfort in its little burrow.

  “Paris, Madame Hastings.”

  Bravo, that man.

  Caroline shifted in her chair, slightly disconcerted by this intensely handsome, somewhat intriguing young Frenchman. Stef was beautiful, yes, but Caroline had quickly cottoned on, in that heat seeking missile-like perception of hers, that although it was obvious to her that Stef adored her son, and vice versa, there was something the Frenchman was holding back. And he knew she knew it.