by Tara Lain
Stars crackled in front of his eyes as the first shot of spunk exploded from his dick, followed by three more. Each one seemed to tear him apart a little more with pure joy until he shattered into space. Holy crap!
As his body throbbed and shuddered, François pushed Artie’s legs back beside his ears and pressed something cold and wet into his throbbing expanding hole. Since his whole lower region had just dissolved into butter, François’s two fingers, then three, barely even burned. With a happy, sappy smile, Artie watched François fit his condom-covered cock to his hole and press. “Ahhhh.” Artie exhaled and took every inch.
Though clearly his cock never should have moved again, after a few pumps of that delicious dick into his body, Artie started to breathe hard, then pant as his penis raised its freak flag and sprang to life on his belly while François went nuts hammering his ass. Oh man, could François do the nasty. Holy cow.
Bam. All thought vanished, and he yelled as François’s hips revved to double time, creating a friction so intense Artie thought his hair would singe off until François yelled, threw his head back, and froze, stuttering his hips as he cried, “Oh, oh, oh.”
Unbelievably, Artie’s cock managed a tired, satisfied, but very real explosion, and a small jet of cum plopped out on his chest. It might not have reached the moon this time, but it definitely made it to his heart.
As his pulse hammered in his ears, Artie murmured, “Oh my God, you were made for me.”
François chuckled as he snuggled onto Artie’s sticky chest. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
Chapter Sixteen
ARTIE BLINKED, squinted against the morning sun through the windows he hadn’t covered the night before, and peered into two sea-blue eyes gazing at him as close as his own nose. He grinned. “Good morning.” Oh man, seeing that face when he woke up made for a really good morning.
“Morning.”
Artie raised his head and pecked François’s lips. “You seem pretty wide-awake for a guy who barely slept.” That first plunge into ecstasy on the living room floor had preceded a fast run to his bed and several more rounds of creative lovemaking that explored all the things their hands, mouths, and cocks were capable of.
François giggled—yep, that was the best description. How could a guy so forceful in bed be so cute when he wasn’t? “I knew there was a chance I’d have nightmares if I fell asleep, so I decided staying awake was lots more fun.” He grinned.
Artie gently kissed him. “No nightmares when I’m around.”
“No. No nightmares.” His face got sweetly serious. “You’ve changed everything for me.”
Artie’s heart slammed against his ribs, and he swallowed hard to keep from tearing up. “We all know whose life got changed around here.”
François flashed his teeth and they both said together, “Stripey!”
François glanced toward the living room. “I guess we better go feed him or he may attack.”
Artie clasped a hand on his butt. “After we do that, how about I take you to breakfast, and then I have to get to work.”
François would his fingers through Artie’s hair. “Hmmm. I’ll bet you can be late. I have influence with your boss.”
Artie took a breath. “I’ve got some people I want you to meet.”
“Oh? Who?”
Artie forced a smile. “My folks.”
“Whoa. They don’t know, uh, right?”
“I plan to tell them.”
François bounced up to his knees, which was insanely cute since he was bare-assed naked. “You want to tell them when I’m there?” His eyes became giant blue circles.
“Seems like a good time.”
He crossed his arms. Even cuter. “Have you contemplated the imminent death of your boss?”
“My boss?”
“Me!” He fell backward on the bed, loose parts flying. “They could murder me for leading their alpha male astray.”
Artie sat up. “No. They’d never get off the couch long enough.”
François got serious as he rose to sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you’re still stressed about coming out to them.” It wasn’t a question.
Artie nodded. “I know it’s stupid.”
“Not even a little.”
“So let’s go get food, and I won’t think about that until later today.”
“Deal. You better take the bathroom first, because despite my total lack of sartorial splendor, I’m a total bathroom hog.”
Artie grinned. “We could go in together.”
“Not if we ever plan to eat today.” He winked, and Artie chuckled all the way through his very fast shower.
Forty-five minutes later, after bathroom time, fish feeding, and a little hanky-panky, Artie escorted François down the stairs from the apartment.
Don looked up from his bush trimming. “Morning, Artie. This must be your friend the pianist.” Fabulous how he didn’t even give a sly wink to the fact that they were emerging from Artie’s apartment at 7:30 a.m.
“Morning, Don. Yes, this is François Desmarais.”
Don slapped a hand against his chest. “Well, my goodness. When Artie said you played piano, he certainly wasn’t kidding. I’m a great admirer.”
François smiled and, amazingly, extended his hand. “Thank you, sir. Artie speaks so highly of you, I’m honored that you know my work.”
Don smiled at Artie, and just the expression warmed his heart. “Artie’s good opinion is a great compliment. He’s a fine man.”
Artie blinked hard. He started to make a joke, then said, “Thank you, Don.”
“So where are you two off to this lovely day?”
Artie said, “We’re going to scare up some breakfast, then I need to get to work.”
“And I need to go crack the whip over him to be sure I’m getting my money’s worth.” François laughed.
“Ah that’s right. You two have relationships on many levels.”
Artie asked, “Would you like to join us for breakfast, Don?”
“That’s kind, but I’ve already eaten. Maybe the two of you would like to have dinner with me sometime soon. You know how I like to cook.”
François smiled. “We’d love that.”
“Good! Just let me know when you have a free evening.”
“I plan to have lots of those, since I won’t be performing again until fall.”
“Excellent. So you can compose.”
“Yes. I have new inspiration.” He gave Artie a grin.
“A labor of love.” Don put a hand on François’s arm, and he didn’t even blink.
“Yes, sir. Exactly.”
“I’m taking François home to meet my family, Don.”
His old eyes brightened even more. “Best news I could have heard. I look forward to all the details of your emergence.”
Funny choice of words, but Artie loved it. “Just another step in creating myself.”
His bright glance flicked to Artie’s eyes. “Yes, it is. And an important one. Sartre said we have pure freedom. Terrifying thought, isn’t it? But you take it on with courage.” He looked at François. “You’ve got yourself a hero here, son.”
François grasped Artie’s hand. “I know.”
Artie didn’t know where to look or what to say, so he sucked a breath that sounded shaky and said, “We’ll take you up on that dinner soon, Don.” He squeezed François’s hand, and they walked to the truck.
WHEN FRANÇOIS opened the front door to his house, he prepared himself for the scream. Nothing came. Son of a gun. He walked to his bedroom unaccosted, changed his clothes, then went down to the music room and started to play. Since he knew Artie would be paying attention, he chose one of his own compositions and played it all the way through, letting the music seep into his blood and pour out his fingers.
When he’d settled his hands on the key for the last tremolo, he sat back. Applause came from behind him.
“Wonderful, mon ange. Wonderful.”
“T
hank you, Mother.”
She walked to the couch near the piano and sat. “Is Arthur outside? I thought you might be playing for him.”
“Yes.” He’d have to ask Artie if his name really was Arthur.
“Obviously he inspires you.”
“Yes, he does. Does that surprise you?”
She sat back and looked at her perfect manicure. “No. Or not entirely. I like him. I have since I first met him. He’s a solid, reliable, levelheaded man but with powerful intuition and an innate appreciation of art. In many ways, I couldn’t have picked better for you if I’d chosen him myself.” She grinned. “Of course, my ego would never have led me to look in the backyard. Fortunately, your lack of ego allowed you to see his worth.”
“Thank you for understanding. It means a lot to me.”
“I think choosing Arthur shows a lot of maturity. Do you have plans for the future?”
He barked a laugh. “We’ve barely talked about the present. He’s never even come out to his parents. He’s doing that tonight.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my. What are they like?”
“I don’t know much. His father loves sports. His mother reads romance novels.”
She inhaled deeply. “Have you thought about where you might live?”
“God, we haven’t even discussed living together, much less where.” He shook his head. “He might freak if I even suggest it.”
“I doubt it. I think he’s quite committed.”
François looked up with a hopeful smile. “You do?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
“This is new to me.”
“I’m not exactly an expert myself, but I see what I see. Anyway, I thought perhaps you’d like to live here, and I could move into the guesthouse, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Wow. I don’t know.”
She rose and walked to the window. “Arthur, would you come in please?” She walked back to her chair.
A couple of minutes later, Artie tapped on the doorframe of the music room, looking sweaty, dirty, and a little anxious.
His mother smiled. “Would you mind sitting for a minute, please, Arthur?”
“I’m kind of dirty, Madame.”
“I think you should call me Juliette, and a little dirt never hurt anyone.”
He walked to the one unupholstered chair and sat. “Yes, Juliette?”
“François and I have been discussing living arrangements for the two of you.”
“Oh.”
“Obviously we can’t do that without you. I was suggesting that the two of you take over this house and I move into the cottage when it’s complete, if you wouldn’t mind having me so close. I know it’s an imposition, but I’m so used to being near François and I am his manager, so if I wasn’t too intrusive—”
Artie held up a hand, frowning. “Wait. Ma’am—Juliette, this is your house. I think it’s done up the way you like it, and I’m pretty certain François would never want you to be anywhere else. Right?” He looked at François, who swallowed and nodded.
“Now, as for us. I’m a pretty simple guy. I need room for my fish tank and I need to see my neighbor Don regularly because he’s got no one and he inspires me. But I know François needs space to create and room for at least one piano, right?”
Juliette said, “He should have two.”
“Yeah. Hey, buddy, how come you couldn’t play the flute?” He laughed.
“I think big.” François flashed a secret smile.
Artie leaned back. “So what if I made the guesthouse bigger? Big enough for one grand piano. But you could still use this room and whatever other pianos you have stashed here, and your mom could guide you and run your business and all that?”
How did he feel about that? The dream of a simple, quiet life loosened in his fingers.
Artie leaned forward. “The thing is, you feel safe with me, but you feel another kind of safe with your mom. I think it’s best for both of you if you don’t live too far apart. And we can bring Don over a lot, because I think you’d love him, Juliette. Man, he’d freak over your garden.”
She raised her eyebrows. “He’s a gardener?”
Artie gave her an innocent look that might have been a subtle accusation of her implied privilege. “He’s a professor of existentialism, but he’s also one meanass gardener.”
François wanted to laugh. He also wanted to hug Artie, who thought first about what made François feel safe.
His mother said, “I’d love to meet him. Do you think the two of you would have enough room in the guesthouse?”
“Sure. We don’t take up much space.”
She glanced at François. “I guess it depends on how François feels about it. I know he wants to be independent.”
Artie grinned. “Yeah, we’re feeling pretty independent right now, but he needs you more than he needs me.”
François started to laugh. Dear God, Artie was right. “I’m not sure about more, but I can’t imagine my life without my mother in it. Thank you for reminding me.”
“Hey, we remind each other what’s good.”
When François glanced at his mother, she was wiping her eyes. She said, “Thank you. I know I’m demanding and overbearing, but I do love you and want the best for you.”
François grinned. “Mom, you proved that in the last twenty-four hours.” She laughed and François cocked his head. “Funny?”
“François Desmarais, in twenty-almost-one years, you’ve never called me Mom—and I rather like it.”
He sprang up, pulled her out of her chair, and gave her a hug. She reached out an arm. “Isn’t this what they call an opportunity for a group hug?”
Artie laughed. “I’m pretty dirty.”
“And I better get used to it.”
Still laughing, he stepped into the circle of their arms.
ARTIE COULD barely catch his breath as he drove up to the front of that oh-so-familiar house on west side Costa Mesa. Amazing that he’d been comfortable with François’s mother and even with JT, but his own folks made him shake.
Surprisingly, the grass was cut and freshly planted flowers brightened the usually bare beds. Wow. He smiled at François sitting in the passenger seat. “You ready?”
“I think the question is, ‘Are you?’ Seriously, if you want to take me home and bring me to meet them another time, I’m okay with it.”
Artie shook his head emphatically. “I’m doing this.”
At that moment, the decision was taken from his hands as AB leaped out the door in his usual greeting. Artie snorted but hopped out his side and met AB before he got to the car, picking him up and swinging him. “Hey, squirt.”
“Did you see my flowers?”
“They’re gorgeous. Good job. Hey, I brought a friend with me.”
“No shit?”
Artie opened the door and François emerged. Even dressed in his jeans and a simple T-shirt, with his wild hair doing its thing, he’d stop traffic on 5th Avenue. “AB, this is François.” He looked at the beautiful man who owned his heart and realized that didn’t change no matter how nervous he was. “François, my brother AB.”
François nodded. “Hi, AB.”
AB stuck out a fist, and François only hesitated a second before he bumped it with his own. Artie wanted to laugh. I wonder if he’s only seen that in movies?
AB said, “Yo, man, glad to know a friend of Artie’s.”
“I’m glad to know his brother, so it’s mutual.” He smiled, and AB looked like the sun had come out. He smiled back. François pointed. “So you put in these flower beds. Artie told me.”
“Uh, right.”
“Great job. Wonderful sense of color and balance.”
“Hey, thanks.” He gave François’s arm a pat. “Come meet our folks.”
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.” François fell in beside AB, and Artie grinned as he brought up the rear.
AB was saying, “I never met an
yone named François before.”
“It’s French.”
“Oh, you don’t sound French.”
“I was born outside Paris but moved to the US when I was really little. I’ve been in California off and on since then.”
“Man, that’s so rad.” He opened the always-open front door and walked in. Artie heard him say, “Hey, Artie brought his friend François. He’s from France.”
If François found the plain, dull, worn house off-putting, he sure didn’t show it. As Artie walked in, François smiled at Artie’s mom. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Haynes. Artie tells me you love romance novels. I’m a fan myself.”
She looked up at François from her chair, her lips parted; then she blinked, set aside her book, stood, and extended her hand. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you too. François, is it?” She ran a hand down her T-shirt and tights. “Please just call me Melanie or Mel.”
Artie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
François said, “Melanie’s such a lovely name.” He turned and walked across the small room to where Artie’s dad had, wonder of wonders, turned down the television. “How do you do, sir? Artie speaks so highly of you.” He extended his hand, and Artie’s dad took it.
“Hey, Artie, you should have told us you were bringing company. I’d’ve got some steaks.” He shook François’s hand. “My name’s Al. Glad to meet you.”
His mom said, “Please sit down, François. Boys, make a place for François.”
François sat on the couch between Artie and AB.
“So how do you two know each other?” His mom’s eyes never left François.
François said, “Artie is building a house for me.”
Artie swallowed since his rank had just jumped a notch or two, but he didn’t say anything.
His mother looked at him with wide eyes. “I thought you were a plumber.”
François jumped in. “He is, but he also has many other skills. He’s an amazing craftsman. I’ll have to show you this beautiful house. He’s going to expand the design so it can accommodate a piano.” He smiled at Artie with affection no one could miss.
