by M. C. Adams
Besides, Charlotte only ever wanted beach holidays, even though I’m more of a city-break kind of person. So inevitably, we ended up doing what she wanted to do, or she’d make this big deal out of the fact that I was always at my desk, working, and we never got to just relax together. Not that I found Charlotte’s idea of a beach holiday relaxing. Endlessly applying thick, sticky layers of suncream, and lying on our backs until we were as red as lobsters and suffering from sunstroke, then getting pissed up at the bar, only to do the very same thing the following day, and the day after that, until the holiday was over.
No. Paris has always been somewhere I’ve hankered after, but never found the right moment to visit. In fact, it was what inspired me to study architecture in the first place. It’s the birthplace of the Academy of Architecture, founded in the seventeenth century — the first institution of its kind anywhere in Europe. And you don’t have to be an expert in architecture to see just how incredible the buildings are. The Gothic buttresses, the Romanesque arches, the Art Nouveau entrances. It’s staggering how much beauty is in one place.
And now I’m here with Hunter.
Three weeks ago, we hadn’t met. And now, here we are, at the top of the Eiffel Tower, taking photos of each other, laughing and joking like we’ve known each other for years…
Except… everything still feels so new. We’ve still only had that one day where we got intimate with each other. Since then, there’s been so much going on, we haven’t had a chance.
I’ve got to say, I was shocked by my reaction to getting intimate with Hunter the first time. The act itself was like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. So powerful, so all-encompassing, and then… it was so unbelievable when I finally allowed myself to let go.
It’s not like I’ve been lying to myself my whole life, exactly. Or, at least, I haven’t been doing it consciously. When Hunter told me about his dad, and the way he treated him, I felt like such a coward. My parents, you see, were ultra-conservative. They sent me to the best private school in the county, they paid for me to learn horse riding and fencing at the weekends — all the things that posh young children from Kent might do. And I never, ever, wanted for anything.
Except for self-expression.
The upbringing, as much as I’m grateful for it, was stifling. Suffocating. My parents wanted to micro-manage my entire life, to make sure I was studying the most lucrative subjects, doing the most fortifying extracurricular activities, fraternising with the most well-connected friends.
As for partners, well, it’s not like they ever told me I couldn’t be gay. I just… somehow knew that wasn’t an option. I think perhaps it was the way they blocked it out of their lives entirely. We weren’t allowed to watch certain television programmes because my parents said they were ‘trash’, when, I think I knew deep down, it was because there was a gay character acting in it, or hosting it. And they would criticise celebrities who were gay, making sure that their insults didn’t sound homophobic. They’d talk about that person’s terrible musical talents or fashion tastes, but again, I knew what the problem was.
So, that part of myself somehow just remained buried. Every time the possibility crept into my head that maybe, just maybe, I preferred the look of a man’s body to a woman’s, that I found myself wondering what it might feel like to kiss one of my friends, or why I developed such strange attachments to male role-models, strange because of the way they made my tummy feel… every time I felt that stuff, I just pushed it down, further and further inside myself, because it simply wasn’t an option.
And that’s why I felt like a coward when Hunter told me that he’d come out to his parents at a young age, and he’d suffered for it. Who knows what privileges I might have lost out on if I’d come out to my parents as a child? Would they have helped fund my university degree? Lent me money towards my first flat deposit? Without those things, I’m certain I would not be where I am today.
So, I’ve been wrestling with a lot of stuff in my head lately. Finding out about the real me has been so important, but definitely not easy. And now that I’m beginning to work out who I am, I’m going to have to let others know too. Starting with the good people of Paris.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ asks Hunter.
‘I’m just holding your hand. And giving you a little kiss. This is our honeymoon, after all.’
‘Aren’t you worried about what people will think?’
I smile and shrug. ‘Let them think whatever they like. I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t kiss my boyfriend in public.’
Hunter bites his lip. ‘Boyrfriend?’
‘I, uh, that just slipped out. It’s early days. We haven’t even… well, you know… yet.’
‘Had sex?’ Hunter whispers, coyly. ‘That’s not some, like, secret gay initiation, you know. You can still be gay without doing that. And you can still be boyfriends without doing it too.’
I give Hunter’s hand a squeeze. There are all kinds of people up here — tourists, families, security workers — and I like the fact that they can see me with Hunter. I’m proud of the fact that we’re together. ‘But I want to do it,’ I whisper in his ear. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Sometimes it’s all I can fucking think about,’ Hunter whispers back.
‘Good,’ I say, smiling. ‘Then… forget I said that “boyfriend” thing. Let’s just take things step by step.’
‘Inch by inch,’ says Hunter cheekily.
‘You’re very naughty,’ I say. ‘You’d better not get me too turned on. We’ve still got dinner to get through yet. And I’m not missing out on the chance to have dinner in Paris for all the ‘inching’ in the world.’ The funny thing is, I’m only half joking. I’d love to go back to the hotel room right now… but I’d like to have a romantic dinner in Paris too. The two things seem to go hand-in-hand in my fantasy.
‘You’d rather eat snails and frogs’ legs than my cock,’ Hunter teases me, as we get the lift back down to ground level. He’s speaking in hushed tones so the tourists around us can’t hear.
‘Actually,’ I say, a little more loudly now, ‘I’ve booked us somewhere special. A gourmet restaurant. And it’s vegan.’
Hunter raises his eyebrows. ‘Again with the vegan thing?’
‘I know, but, all that stuff you were telling me about its ethos. The environmentally-friendly stuff. I’m going to give it a go, I think. I design eco-houses for a living. Why shouldn’t I try to adopt a more eco-friendly style in general?’ I squeeze Hunter’s hand. ‘You’re making me feel braver about changing the way I live. I don’t need to be afraid to try new things any more.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Hunter laughs. ‘As long as you don’t go off me if I keep scoffing butter and cheese.’
‘You know, you can get vegan butter and cheese…’
‘Hey,’ Hunter says, giving me a gentle push, ‘five seconds being a vegan and you’re already getting judgy.’
‘Very, very judgy,’ I say, giving him a kiss. I notice a couple of the tourists in the lift with us looking out of the corners of their eye, but I don’t care. Besides, they’re probably not thinking anything bad about us. They just probably haven’t seen two men kiss up-close before. Like I hadn’t before I went to Sailor Barry’s club that night.
We head to dinner, and I’m relieved to find that it’s every bit as special as I’d hoped. It’s situated along the Seine river, which is lit up by the most beautiful golden lights. The restaurant is minimalist and elegant, and the food comes in small, perfectly-presented portions.
‘They’re like works of art,’ says Hunter. ‘Seems odd to eat them, kinda. Except that they’re totally delicious, so I’m gonna eat the lot.’
We work our way through sweetcorn velouté with crispy sage, wild mushroom risotto with edible viola flowers, Black Muscat sorbet and chocolate ganache. Even though the plates are small, by the end, we’re full to the brim.
‘That was incredible,’ I say. ‘If all vegan food is like this, it’ll be a breeze
.’
Hunter laughs. ‘So… what now? A drink at the world-famous Amélie café? Take in a show at the Moulin Rouge?’
‘Actually, I had some of that in mind for tomorrow night,’ I reply. ‘But tonight, I was hoping we could just go back to the hotel and spend some time together.’
Hunter’s eyes sparkle. ‘I’d love to, Mister MacArthur.’
‘That’s wonderful news, Mister MacArthur.’
I pay the bill and we leave the restaurant, hand in hand. We walk along the river back to the hotel, and I feel a great sense of calm wash over me.
It’s like this is the first time in my life I’ve ever really, truly relaxed.
I don’t know how Hunter does it — but whenever I’m with him, I’m just able to… be.
‘Thank you, Hunter,’ I say, as we walk. ‘For coming into my life when you did.’
‘It was the other way round, really,’ says Hunter. ‘You plunged into my world one night out of nowhere. Actually, I can’t help feeling like you’re going to jump out of it again, just as quickly as you dived in.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I say firmly.
We’re almost at the hotel now, but Hunter stops walking, and looks me in the eye. ‘It’s just… well, you know. We’re from such different places. You’re so fancy. You have all these nice things. And you’re older than me too. Wiser.’
‘I’m not a geriatric yet, Hunter.’
‘No. I don’t mean that. You’re just… I dunno. Basically, I can see what’s in it for me. But, for you… Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a novelty because I represent everything you’ve fought against for so long. Or I’m just here to help your rebellious side come out…’
I shake my head, and put my finger to Hunter’s lips. ‘Look at me, Hunter,’ I say. ‘Do I seem like a rebel to you? I just whisked my husband off to Paris for the weekend, ate at a fine-dining restaurant, and I’m wearing brogues that are so pinched it’s almost like they’re eating my feet…’
Hunter can’t help but let out a small snort of laughter.
‘You’re emboldening me to make some changes, Hunter, yes, but isn’t that what all good friends and partners do? Inspire each other?’
Hunter sniffs. ‘Well, you’re kind of inspiring me too. I can see how hard you’ve worked all your life, and how your work really means something to you. I’d like to start trying a bit harder with that kind of stuff. After I’ve finished, you know… working for you… then…’
‘What would you like to do, do you think?’
‘I’ve got a few ideas,’ Hunter says, grinning, those green eyes flashing. ‘But I’m just letting them percolate. I’ll keep you posted.’ He puts his arms around me, and then kisses me full on the lips. His hands slide up my body, grabbing my face as he kisses me more passionately still.
I’ve never known Hunter to let go so much in public, to show me this much affection without worrying what others might think. His tongue delves deep into my mouth. I feel the magic of the place wash over me. I think of all the people who’ve embraced and kissed on this very spot throughout the centuries. We’re just another pair of beating hearts, and it doesn’t matter who we are, whether we’re women, men, straight, or gay. Passion is passion, and it’s as simple and beautiful as that.
Suddenly, Hunter pulls away. ‘So… your brogues are pinching your feet, huh?’
‘Yes,’ I grin. ‘They are rather.’
‘We’d better set you free then, eh, little bird?’
‘Yes, please.’
Hunter takes me by the hand, and we walk into our hotel. I knew I was booking something special when I chose this place, but it’s far exceeded my expectations: pink and white marble interiors, striking flower arrangements, a working 1940s lift. It’s one of six hotels in Paris awarded official ‘Palace’ status, and there’s so much grandeur here it’s easy to see why.
Tonight, though, I’m not focused on that. The most beautiful thing here is Hunter. My protector.
We get into the lift and I press the button to go up. We’re so full of anticipation, we’re not even talking now — just looking into each other’s eyes. A week ago, I might have been nervous about what we’re about to do to each other, but not any more. I can’t wait to feel Hunter’s hands on me again. I know him, and I trust him, and I want him.
We enter our room and Hunter leads me over to the four-poster bed.
I sit on the edge of it and Hunter kneels before me, taking off my shoes. I take off my jacket too, and Hunter looks up at me.
‘You’re a fucking god, Klein,’ he says. ‘And if I do anything you don’t like, or if you want me to slow down, or speed up, or whatever, just say. Okay? I won’t be offended. I like feedback.’
‘Okay,’ I say, smiling.
Hunter runs his hands up my thighs, approaching the fly of my trousers — I’m wearing a subtly red suit, so dark that it’s almost black or brown. That’s another thing that’s changed about me since meeting Hunter. I’m not afraid to incorporate more colour into my life — in my clothes, my architectural ideas, everything.
‘It’s very naughty of you, wearing this red suit all day, teasing me…’ Hunter says. ‘And I know you’ve got tight underwear on. The thought of the bulge of your cock against that soft white fabric has been making me hard, all day long.’
‘I hoped it would,’ I say.
‘You know, when you wear something like this you’re gonna get fucked,’ says Hunter, taking off his coat and throwing it behind him. ‘You planned it that way, didn’t you?’
I bite my lip, and nod.
‘Time to take your pants off then,’ says Hunter, tugging the expensive fabric. I help him pull my briefs down over my cock, and for once, I don’t feel nervous about how I look down there, or if he’ll like the smell and taste of me. I can just tell how into me he is.
‘I’ve been waiting to get a proper look at you,’ Hunter says, his eyes level with the throbbing tip of me, taking me in, stroking me gently and sighing deeply. ‘You’re even sexier than I was imagining.’
I lean back on the bed, so Hunter can get a good look at me.
‘That’s it,’ he says, ‘lie back and prop yourself up on your elbows, so you can see what I’m doing.’
I do as he tells me and I open up my thighs a little wider for him.
‘So good yo see you so hard. So ready for me,’ he says. He places his hands firmly on my thighs and leans into me now, his breath hot on my most sensitive part. And then, out of nowhere, I feel the softness of his lips — upon my engorged head. Then a tongue, running gently up and down my shaft.
‘Fuck,’ Hunter moans. ‘You taste so good. Like honey and salted caramel.’
‘Salted caramel?’ I giggle.
‘Better than that. You taste like fucking sex, Klein.’
I sigh as Hunter’s mouth engulfs me now, mingling its saliva with my oozing juices, and then he clamps on, hand suddenly stroking my balls, pressing down lightly, as his tender tongue flits round my cock while his mouth moves slowly down, steadily increasing my pleasure. His other hand still holds my thighs, but it moves an inch or two further up, concentrating all of my sensations around that one area.
I feel so alive, like every vein in my body is buzzing with electricity.
And then Hunter’s tongue begins to move again. Flicking back and forth, fluttering, circling.
One hand slides behind me, to my arse, holding me tight, clamping me in position, while the other travels down to my asshole, which is desperate for his fingers to fill me up.
He teases me for a while, stroking me as his tongue flutters over my cock and his lips suck tenderly, making such light movements that I can’t help crying out, desperate for him to touch me harder, take me deeper, further, making me so hard I feel like I’m gonna burst, an explosion of horny desire.
Finally, when Hunter senses I can’t take it any more, his finger plunges deep inside me, and he starts deep-throating my cock, his lips forceful and his tongue single-minde
dly working on giving me pleasure. I can feel how much Hunter wants me to come, and it turns me on even more. I feel like putty in this man’s hands. I am his, he’s claiming me, and everything he wants from me, I’m going to give to him.
He kisses me and sucks me and massages that spot inside me, just how he discovered I liked it the other night, and before long, I’m making that low, guttural noise that I’ve recently learnt is the sound I make when I start to really let go. I moan and I hum and I shout and I don’t care who in this hotel — this palace — hears us. We’re young and we’re fucking, and why shouldn’t we partake in this completely human, completely healthy activity? His mouth and my cock and his fingers and my arse? Mingled together as one.
The electricity grows in me now. My hands are tingling, my brain is buzzing, my teeth are chattering. I can do nothing, nothing, except shout a little louder, throw my head back and arch my head and succumb to it…
‘Wait!’ the cry from hunter is guttural and breathy. He’s pulled back and is looking at me with those green eyes. ‘I want you to come in me. Really in me.’
I nod.
He turns, and I take in the beautiful sight of his muscular lower back under his short shirt — the dimples above his buttocks, the solid, powerful heft of him, the interconnected heaven of his form. It’s breathtaking.
He lowers himself slowly onto me. My cock’s so slick from his mouth that he pushes me into him with total ease. There’s a gasp of pleasure from him as he finally takes my virginity and then, he starts to move. I watch him as he does and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
The pleasure builds so fast I can’t believe it — the thrusting, clamping force of him around me, his grunts and moans of pleasure — I pick up right where I left off, and in a moment, I feel that surge start, right down in the tips of my toes. And as it rises up my body, I can’t help myself, I let go entirely.
