by Robyn Elliot
“In a chateau,” Stef added, looking aside at Danny wryly. Seeing the delicate bones of Danny’s face, the flush over those gravity defying cheekbones, inwardly Stef groaned with lust.
Caroline wrinkled her nose in delight. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she laughed gently, and Stef shrugged, most Gallic.
“I imagine it’s that I exude physical grace, magnetism, wealth, experience and joie de vivre.” Stef gave her a slightly self-conscious smile.
“Hmm,” Caroline drained her coffee cup, intently looking over the rim as she did so, “you left out modesty, darling.” Stef beamed at her, and when the full Stephane Clermont charm was unleashed, well…hold onto your underwear. Danny watched his mother and boyfriend gently spar. Oh God, he thought, she likes him – which, yes, is very good – but she will keep pestering me from now on about a wedding date.
“So you live in a chateau? Ah, how lovely.” Caroline was careful to offer understatement, a moderate but deliberate feigned disinterest, when she was actually desperate to know about this chateau. She was used to the fine things in life, and hell, Peter had known it, but a chateau? The perfect place for the wedding; Danny in charcoal gray, to off-set his pale skin and lovely eyes, Stef in the same, to accentuate the sultriness of his complexion and, most certainly, disposition. “And who with?” Caroline enquired coolly.
Danny suddenly felt uncomfortable. By degrees. He already had felt uncomfortable, but now he felt very, very uncomfortable. And there it was again; that weird sense of unease, that to ask Stef about his life, to really ask, to delve, would leave Danny feeling…vulnerable. And if there was one thing Stef had succeeded in doing, it was making Danny feel, possibly for the first time, safe, secure. Adored. Desired.
Stef shrugged again. “No one; I live there now and then, when things get...” he hesitated, obviously trying to find something suitable to describe the mercurial aspect to him, that often caused more problems than it solved. “Well, complicated.”
Danny gave Stef a look of assurance and tenderness. Stef gently squeezed the base of Danny’s neck, and brought Danny’s lips to his and they kissed, softly, the subtlest of touches. And incendiary, because of that.
Caroline got up, rinsed her cup.
“Complicated is what the Hastings men are used to, Stephane, isn’t that right, darling?”
She glanced over her shoulder, to see Danny giving her a measured look.
“Stef knows I’m off my rocker.”
“Danny, I wouldn’t exactly have put it like that,” Caroline said, but wanting to be sure that Stef did at least have an inkling of Danny’s vulnerable state.
“Caroline…I can call you that?”
“You know you can, you bad Frenchman.”
Stef smiled, then turned to gaze at Danny. “You’ve nothing to worry about; the thing is…” And Stef traced his forefinger down the length of Danny’s patrician nose, “I love your son, so very much. I love him when he’s acting crazy…” Danny sighed, and Stef winked at him. “In fact, I just love Danny in a way I have never loved anyone. I mean anyone. I want to be able to love him, cherish him, help him be the happy guy I know he longs to be.”
Some things are best left unsaid; such as 'I also want to bend him over this kitchen table, and fuck him until we’re both screaming from orgasms that should be recorded for history’s sake. I want to lick every inch of him, all those sensuous places, like behind his knees, the crease of his elbows, behind his ears, the hollow at his throat. But for now, my undying love and adoration will have to do'.
Caroline sighed, kissed Danny on his brow, then kissed Stef on the cheek.
“Of course, you know that if you hurt my beautiful boy, I will boil you in oil,” she intoned severely.
“I would expect nothing less, Caroline; only, could you make it extra virgin?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lots of kissing. It was nearly dark, but they seemed unawares. Lying on the sofa, Danny’s legs wrapped around Stef’s waist, as they made out in the encroaching dusk. The room had taken on long shadows, rising up the walls, creating the illusion of watchful figures observing the theater unfolding before them. What theater. Stef the master player, Danny the tender and willing recipient of all Stef’s passion.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Danny vaguely wondered how kissing could be elevated to perfection. Stef’s mouth on his, possessive but still gentle, searching, invading but sweet with still some restraint in reserve. Their tongues explored and tasted in slow, pulse hot rhythm, their need for each other building, not from pawing at each other in a frantic race to reach orgasm, but the achingly nuanced layers of their loving. All at once needful and heady, and yet so tender and heartfelt that neither Stef nor Danny really understood, even in those moments, that they had on their hands a once in a lifetime, once in a meteor colliding age, a love that went so deep, it actually felt more like pain, less like its reality; joy.
And the pain was so good. So damned good. The pain would be good too, because Stef had whispered in Danny’s ear that their lovemaking could stay like this for as long as Danny needed; blow jobs, breathless, encompassing kisses and intimate caressing until the moment arrived when Danny would cross that virginal Rubicon in a way Julius Caesar could never have imagined.
“Now,” Danny murmured in Stef’s ear, tongue licking and swirling over Stef’s skin, tasting the refined and sensuous sweat, welcoming as the sun in winter. “Now, Stef.”
Stef rested his brow against Danny’s.
“Are you sure?”
Danny nodded, and Stef’s head moved in rhythm. They smiled into each other's eyes, and kissed softly.
“Completely,” Danny assured, and he meant it. He was suddenly immensely glad he had waited for Stef. He didn’t know exactly why, but Danny got the feeling that, for once, less really did mean more.
Only now, Stef was getting up from the sofa, lingering as he did so, gazing down at Danny. Gazing at Danny’s bee stung, kiss bruised lips, the darkening of his pale eyes in the low light, Danny’s breathing, labored, tight with longing, Stef seeing that it had arrived, and sooner than he’d dreamt of.
The moment. Yes, that one.
That moment, where love became fused into the heat of sex, the urgency of desire, the timelessness of knowing that what Danny and Stef had found, was never going to be rent asunder.
No, not by anyone. Not even a 6ft 3in Brazilian ex model by the name of Antoine could break up this searing, world ending love.
Chapter Eight
So that’s what I look like, Danny thought, gazing at himself in the bathroom mirror. He turned his head this way, that way, and compressed his lips as he wondered if anyone would comment on him wearing polo necks for a week or so. But, yes, he did look different.
Danny leaned forward to peer more closely. Hmm, indeed, he was ruminating, I don’t look as I did…how long ago? Hell, it’s true what the finest romantic novelists say…time really does stand still.
When you’re in love. When you’re with the one you love and adore. Screw that b.s. about how you should love the one you’re with.
And I really am in love, Danny knew, I’m so in love that I cannot think straight, I can’t have two consecutive thoughts that don’t involve my darling, my baby, my world. Danny yawned, rubbed his eyes, and reaching for the toothbrush and paste, started languidly cleaning his teeth.
The toothpaste foamed and bubbled around Danny’s pristine teeth and gums. His mouth had been busy. For three days. Three days, aka time coming to a grinding halt. Coming being the pertinent word. Danny closed his eyes, spat into the sink. The faucet released a cool stream of water, and the gurgle of the sink was weirdly soothing in the quiet. The almost quiet. Stef’s steady, calm breathing distracted Danny, who rinsed his mouth one more time, and popped his head around the door. Involuntarily, his breath was taken away.
Stef lay on his back, with his right arm draped across his stomach; his left arm was raised, palm upward, on the pillow. He looked bl
issfully relaxed, as he slept the sleep of the righteous. The righteously exhausted, that is.
Danny went back to the bathroom, stared at his reflection again. The same face returned his gaze, the same face he’d had for years, obviously. The same alluring pallor, the cut glass cheekbones, the strange beauty of him that could take a while for others to get used to. But there was something assuredly and indubitably different about him. I have been well and truly fucked, thought Danny, and he watched the slow, languid stain of memory shade his cheekbones. Funny that, still feeling kind of shy, nervous, considering his virgin intacto status was officially null and void. Will other people be able to see it written all over my face, he mused, as he wandered back into the bedroom, lay down next to his man. Will they see my happiness? My utter, irrefutable and all-consuming happiness...
Stef turned onto his side, and Danny spooned next to him, wrapping his arms around Stef’s warm, lean body. He kissed the back of Stef’s neck, tender, softly loving, and Stef sighed in sleepy appreciation.
Love you, love you, love you, Danny whispered, his lips brushing Stef’s skin; love you, my gorgeous, insatiable, Frenchman. You’re my world, Danny thought, as he felt himself drifting into sated sleep again, Stef’s body molded against his. The exhaustion of great sex lulled Danny into peace, the memory of the last three days timeless...eternal. His mind drifted languidly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Danny had been wondering if it was possible to die from pleasure. He knew guys expired with heart attacks, but weren’t they usually old men with dodgy tickers who would have been better off potting plants or trimming their nasal hair?
Because the pleasure was something Danny was totally unprepared for. Boy, was he unprepared for the sensations now rising in every fiber and nerve ending of his body, as Stef sucked on Danny’s cock with unremitting fervor. Forget the gay porn, forget the fantasies; the reality was mind blowing. Speaking of blowing, Danny managed to open his eyes and look south, Stef’s head moving up and down. Danny wanted to watch. He wanted to watch every languorous, tongue trailing caress of Stef’s hungry mouth; he didn't want to miss a moment of Stef sucking him into the oblivion of shattering orgasm.
The orgasms. Ah yes, those orgasms...
Danny managed to raise himself up on his elbows, still determined to watch Stef until Danny did what he’d been doing since last night – not to mention, through the night, and this morning; writhe on the bed, not giving a shit about nerves or embarrassment, and come and come, crying out until his throat begged for mercy. From orgasms that were in a class of their own. Danny had jerked himself off assiduously over the years, but these Stef-induced orgasms were like comparing a Warhol to a Matisse. One was a lot of color, verve and momentary excitement, the other the enduring magnificence of a masterpiece. Stef was evidently enjoying himself. It was his own moans of pleasure that were making Danny’s thighs tremble, making Danny throw his head back, swear like a trooper, then shudder and release.
Shudder and release. The mantra of the moment. Only, it was a shudder that tracked up and down Danny’s spine like an electric charge, the kind of shudder that left Danny a whimpering, helpless slut of a boyfriend, as he released into Stef’s warm, welcoming mouth. Danny cried out, the aftershocks of his Vesuvian climaxes just as good as the main event, and it was Stef’s greedy appreciation, the swallowing reflex around Danny’s cock, that was making Danny groan helplessly, then collapse, sweating, flushed, exhausted, against the pillows.
Stef straddled him, and jerked himself off with a furious, slick rhythm. Danny opened his mouth, welcoming the sounds of Stef’s orgasm, tasting Stef’s come as it momentarily burned on his tongue and his face, quickly cooling against his neck. He loved what Stef did next. Danny knew he had in his French boyfriend a filthy, sex mad connoisseur of every sweet, dirty little pleasure imaginable. Stef rubbed the tip of his sensitive cock over Danny’s nipples, then leaned down, and licked and sucked with slow tenderness. “Fuck!” Danny gasped, making Stef smile to himself. As much as he could, considering Stef was trembling from the twin delights of sucking Danny’s delectable cock, and giving his very proper English boyfriend a hot, sticky facial. A brief sleep followed, Danny lying over Stef’s chest, as Stef twirled Danny’s blonde curls about his fingers, idly wondering how the hell he had got himself into water so hot it could have shamed hydrothermal vents.
Stef had left France to make his life simpler. Yet he was homesick, and London was oppressing him, along with Guillaume's baleful ‘taking responsibility for once in your life’ speeches. It was completely down to Annelise that the brothers hadn’t reverted to the argument settling techniques they’d used since teenagers. But the complication of Stef’s life had followed him across Le Channel; even if Madeleine was in Paris, she might as well be here, seeing as Guillaume and now Elisabeth were reminding Stef that he needed to sort things with her, considering how insistent he had been with Madeleine from the outset. Now that Danny was in his life, some kind of resolution needed to be agreed.
Because he owed Danny that. The little matter of the truth.
Elisabeth had attempted a heart to heart with her tempestuous son shortly after Stef’s discharge from hospital. It hadn’t gone very well, to say the least.
“Do you think your problems will disappear now, Stephane?”
“Maman, I just needed a bit of distance for a while, and the Channel is giving me that. I need some time to think about...everything.”
“Your need? Yes, that seems the standard response from you these days. What about what Madeleine needs? Goodness me, Stephane, you've changed your tune! Or does the Channel also stop you from thinking about the responsibility you have? A responsibility you wanted, may I remind you.”
“Maman, please don't speak to me like I'm a child. When I gained my PhD and was teaching, you still tried to live my life for me.”
“Oh, your university career, Stephane? From whence you were asked to leave because of your inability to keep neither your hands nor your penis to yourself!”
“What I do with my hands and my penis is entirely my business!”
“Not when they involve your students, Stephane!”
“He was nineteen, gorgeous and it was one night, that’s all!” (Yes, he did lie to Danny. Shocking).
“I can’t believe how blasé you are that your career has been ruined because of your juvenile approach to sex and relationships. I suspect your student was the emotionally mature one, to be honest with you, Stephane.”
“Oh, if you can consider his maturity was reporting me to the Directeur because I wouldn’t…er...” Stef had grappled for the appropriate term in the hearing of mothers.
“I think the words you are struggling for is ‘fuck him again’! Cedric was heartbroken by your rejection and lashed out, can't you see that?”
“Well that’s perfectly all right then! Let us all praise Cedric shall we!”
“What about Danny?”
“What about him?”
“Behave yourself, Stephane. Now, you can pretend that your new English life is ideal, when I know you really want to go home, but that will mean facing Papa and Madeleine, wouldn’t it? And Danny has a right to know what is going on in your life.”
“I can’t see why,” Stephane replied, deliberately obtuse.
“For God's sake, Stephane; Danny loves you, I saw that very clearly at the hospital, and I am fairly certain you love him…I am right, aren’t I?”
“Danny doesn’t need to know how shitty my life was in France; he’s got his own…issues.”
“Ah. How convenient for you, to use Danny’s problems to shield your own. It’s perfectly wonderful and beautiful how you support Danny, because that is the son I know you truly are. I am making the assumption that Danny is not going to be consigned to the vast wasteland of your discarded lovers…”
“Don’t exaggerate, Maman.”
“However, as Danny is in your life, you should tell him so he is aware that his partner is a…”
“Stop, please! I love you, Maman, but enough. This is my life and I will do what I think is best, not what you or Guillaume or Papa thinks I should be doing. I’ll deal with this in my own way.”
“Then I sincerely hope that that doesn’t involve breaking Danny’s heart…”
Right now, Stef slowly opened his eyes, to see Danny gazing down at him with unconcealed adoration. The responsibility, he fleetingly thought, before remembering that for the last three days, and nights of course, he and Danny had been reaching the rapid conclusion that it was only a matter of time – a short matter of time, at that – before one of them would propose.
Because this was life long, tectonic plate shifting, enduring love. Sweet, sweet love. Rings and cake and speeches love...
“I want you,” Danny whispered in Stef’s ear, making Stef stretch like a cream filled cat, groaning in blissful pleasure as he did so. “I want you to fuck me like some dirty little slut.”
Stef kissed Danny’s lips tenderly. “You are a dirty little slut,” he confirmed.
Danny buried his face in Stef’s neck, his body trembling with laughter. “Only because you made me one!”
Stef turned his neck so that Danny was forced to look at him. Into him, those gray pools of languid longing, beauty undimmed in the irises that had seen just about everything. A flush of pale pink crept up Danny’s cheeks, making Stef pull a triumphant face. “Well at least you’ve still got some shame,” Stef teased, enjoying the sensations of his cock growing hard. Again. Shit, Stef thought, it’s like I’ve become one of those guys that take Viagra and get permanent hard-ons; only I don’t need some pill to get me up. No, the up was all down to Danny.
“Enough shame for the both of us, I’m guessing,” Danny said, grinning, looking high on happiness.
Stef framed Danny’s face with his hands. They stared at each other, their cocks firming up very nicely, ably assisted by the slow, gentle grind against hips.
