You Can't Refuse A Frenchman Forever [8/9]
anonymous
May 30 2009, 13:20:05 UTC
Then he was hurriedly placing himself behind Francis. Francis was speaking in French, still begging and - they both cried out when he finally buried himself inside him. Arthur's eyesight did funny things, and continued to do odd things as he set a fast pace - turning black and white and then he wasn't sure what colour he was seeing, or if he was seeing stars.
There wasn't anything elegant about their motions, even as Francis spilt French onto the pillows with every one of Arthur's thrusts. Arthur had given up attempting to translate his words, instead focusing on the way Francis tightened around him, and how much he burned, and how close to the headboard they were becoming...
Francis yelped as Arthur grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged. The Frenchman's larger hands scrabbled against the headboard, his nails scratching against the ancient wood as Arthur pushed him against it.
Arthur growled and pressed his mouth to Francis' neck.
"Shit," He choked out, "Tell me why I didn't do this - oh God - sooner?"
He could have sworn Francis answered between his gasps and groans, "Because you're stubborn."
Arthur's grip tightened on Francis' hip, hardly needing to do more than hold on as the man's bouncing hastened further. His other hand snaked around the Frenchman's waist to grip at his dripping cock. He squeezed it, then began stroking madly. Francis' reaction was instantaneous - a loud cry and more hasty bucking.
God, Francis was so tight, so hot - never again would Arthur put this off for so long! Never never never never never! His hands didn't - couldn't - compare to this!
They barely lasted a few more moments. They pressed together as tightly as they could, whilst Francis screamed and Arthur bit his lip and groaned loudly into Francis' shoulder blade, his eyes clenched shut as tight as he could manage.
They remained as they were for several long minutes. His brain felt like it had entered a sauna, foggy and exhausted. When he found the energy to crack an eye open, Arthur found Francis' long legs splayed on either side on them and his thumb hooked over and under the hand Arthur had bruised Francis' hip with. The other was hanging loosely from the headboard. The Frenchman was leaning heavily back against him, his head tilted back over Arthur's shoulder, giving the Englishman the most scrumptious view of his sweaty neck.
Arthur, regarded swollen lips and Francis' red face with a lazy, emerald gaze. He looked completely satiated, a small smile on his lips and his eyes and blonde brows relaxed and smooth, even as they both panted.
He let his lips brush over the man's shoulder, heaved a sigh and rested his forehead where he'd kissed.
There wasn't anything elegant about their motions, even as Francis spilt French onto the pillows with every one of Arthur's thrusts. Arthur had given up attempting to translate his words, instead focusing on the way Francis tightened around him, and how much he burned, and how close to the headboard they were becoming...
Francis yelped as Arthur grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged. The Frenchman's larger hands scrabbled against the headboard, his nails scratching against the ancient wood as Arthur pushed him against it.
"A-Arthur! Oh, ch-cheri, oh, yes, yes, ple- yes there - please!"
Arthur growled and pressed his mouth to Francis' neck.
"Shit," He choked out, "Tell me why I didn't do this - oh God - sooner?"
He could have sworn Francis answered between his gasps and groans, "Because you're stubborn."
Arthur's grip tightened on Francis' hip, hardly needing to do more than hold on as the man's bouncing hastened further. His other hand snaked around the Frenchman's waist to grip at his dripping cock. He squeezed it, then began stroking madly. Francis' reaction was instantaneous - a loud cry and more hasty bucking.
God, Francis was so tight, so hot - never again would Arthur put this off for so long! Never never never never never! His hands didn't - couldn't - compare to this!
They barely lasted a few more moments. They pressed together as tightly as they could, whilst Francis screamed and Arthur bit his lip and groaned loudly into Francis' shoulder blade, his eyes clenched shut as tight as he could manage.
They remained as they were for several long minutes. His brain felt like it had entered a sauna, foggy and exhausted. When he found the energy to crack an eye open, Arthur found Francis' long legs splayed on either side on them and his thumb hooked over and under the hand Arthur had bruised Francis' hip with. The other was hanging loosely from the headboard. The Frenchman was leaning heavily back against him, his head tilted back over Arthur's shoulder, giving the Englishman the most scrumptious view of his sweaty neck.
Arthur, regarded swollen lips and Francis' red face with a lazy, emerald gaze. He looked completely satiated, a small smile on his lips and his eyes and blonde brows relaxed and smooth, even as they both panted.
He let his lips brush over the man's shoulder, heaved a sigh and rested his forehead where he'd kissed.
Bloody, beautiful bastard...
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