Daddy Issues (5/?)
anonymous
May 8 2009, 02:38:52 UTC
The cock slips out of Arthur's mouth with a pop. He regards Matthew through half-lidded eyes, a smile slowly spreading over his face, and in that moment, Matthew thinks he looks just a little like Francis. He is so ashamed, but Francis' laugh in his ear makes his cock throb so good. Arthur leans down to kiss at the head. "Go ahead," he says, trailing kisses slowly over the underside of the cock. "Come for Daddy."
"It's all right," Francis coos, pressing his lips against Matthew's flushed cheek. "Mon enfant beau, you can let go now. Come for us, cher."
"Yes, Papa." He says it all in one breath, all in one moment of mind-shattering release, as his eyes slip shut, as he jerks and shudders and splatters come onto his belly and over Arthur's fingers and face. "Oh-oh-ooooh, yes, Papa."
Matthew crumples backwards into Francis' embrace, panting and shaking even as Arthur continues to palm his softening penis. The sticky mess of come and sweat begins to cool on his skin as it drips from his cock and Arthur's fingers into a puddle on his belly and trickles down his abdomen onto the bed sheets. Arthur leans down to lap at the mess lovingly. "Did that feel nice, my sweet son?" he asks, and his breath tickles Matthew's belly. "Do you feel better now?"
Through gasps for air, he murmurs, "Ohhhh."
His brain feels like it's full of static. Francis is holding him underneath his arms, one hand toying with a delicate nipple and the other hand reaching down to trail his fingers through the come and over Matthew's sensitive, softened cock, stroking slowly with his fingertips. Behind him, Matthew can still feel the stiffness of Francis' own neglected erection, and with a smile and a quiet little sigh, he gently grinds his bottom against it.
"Petit chou," Francis whispers in warning.
Matthew looks up at him, ignores a wave of nausea and dizziness that washes over him. "Je t'aime, Papa."
"And I you," Francis says, smiling faintly, "mon fils, but I think it's time for you to rest now."
"No." Matthew shakes his head stubbornly and grinds his hips back against Francis even harder. "No, Papa, I want you inside. I want you to fuck me now."
Francis' eyes flutter closed for a moment as he takes in a breath and swallows, shifting his hips forward in time to Matthew's reverse thrusts. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" He rolls the nipple between his forefinger and thumb and bites the skin of Matthew's neck until it is red and raw. "Mon amour, once I start, I do not think I will be able to stop."
"Yes, Papa," Matthew says with a blush and groan. "I want you. I want you and Daddy to-- to f-fuck me."
The Frenchman makes a tight noise in his throat. His fingers entwine with Arthur's over the softened length of Matthew's cock, and for a moment, the two older nations meet each other's gazes. Together they begin to stroke Matthew back into a state of arousal, though it is not a difficult task, as after only a few gentle caresses, Matthew's cock is already stiff and jerking. Francis pats at the side of Matthew's thigh, signaling for him to sit up so that Francis can divest himself of his clothing. Meanwhile Matthew falls into Arthur's embrace, the Canadian's arms wrapping around Arthur's neck as the two meet halfway for a breathy, tongue-filled kiss.
Arthur tastes different from Francis, Matthew notices. Less spicy and more earthy, much like his scent. Unlike Francis' scent, which is seductive and tantalizing and fills him with just a hint of nostalgia, Arthur's scent is something that is warm and familiar and always fresh in Matthew's mind, but he doesn't like it any more or any less. Kissing Arthur is like sipping a hot cup of tea and feeling the heat curl all the way down to his toes, while kissing Francis is like sipping a glass of wine and feeling the liquor tingling at the tips of his fingers and fraying the neurons in his brain. He can't figure out which one he likes best.
"It's all right," Francis coos, pressing his lips against Matthew's flushed cheek. "Mon enfant beau, you can let go now. Come for us, cher."
"Yes, Papa." He says it all in one breath, all in one moment of mind-shattering release, as his eyes slip shut, as he jerks and shudders and splatters come onto his belly and over Arthur's fingers and face. "Oh-oh-ooooh, yes, Papa."
Matthew crumples backwards into Francis' embrace, panting and shaking even as Arthur continues to palm his softening penis. The sticky mess of come and sweat begins to cool on his skin as it drips from his cock and Arthur's fingers into a puddle on his belly and trickles down his abdomen onto the bed sheets. Arthur leans down to lap at the mess lovingly. "Did that feel nice, my sweet son?" he asks, and his breath tickles Matthew's belly. "Do you feel better now?"
Through gasps for air, he murmurs, "Ohhhh."
His brain feels like it's full of static. Francis is holding him underneath his arms, one hand toying with a delicate nipple and the other hand reaching down to trail his fingers through the come and over Matthew's sensitive, softened cock, stroking slowly with his fingertips. Behind him, Matthew can still feel the stiffness of Francis' own neglected erection, and with a smile and a quiet little sigh, he gently grinds his bottom against it.
"Petit chou," Francis whispers in warning.
Matthew looks up at him, ignores a wave of nausea and dizziness that washes over him. "Je t'aime, Papa."
"And I you," Francis says, smiling faintly, "mon fils, but I think it's time for you to rest now."
"No." Matthew shakes his head stubbornly and grinds his hips back against Francis even harder. "No, Papa, I want you inside. I want you to fuck me now."
Francis' eyes flutter closed for a moment as he takes in a breath and swallows, shifting his hips forward in time to Matthew's reverse thrusts. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" He rolls the nipple between his forefinger and thumb and bites the skin of Matthew's neck until it is red and raw. "Mon amour, once I start, I do not think I will be able to stop."
"Yes, Papa," Matthew says with a blush and groan. "I want you. I want you and Daddy to-- to f-fuck me."
The Frenchman makes a tight noise in his throat. His fingers entwine with Arthur's over the softened length of Matthew's cock, and for a moment, the two older nations meet each other's gazes. Together they begin to stroke Matthew back into a state of arousal, though it is not a difficult task, as after only a few gentle caresses, Matthew's cock is already stiff and jerking. Francis pats at the side of Matthew's thigh, signaling for him to sit up so that Francis can divest himself of his clothing. Meanwhile Matthew falls into Arthur's embrace, the Canadian's arms wrapping around Arthur's neck as the two meet halfway for a breathy, tongue-filled kiss.
Arthur tastes different from Francis, Matthew notices. Less spicy and more earthy, much like his scent. Unlike Francis' scent, which is seductive and tantalizing and fills him with just a hint of nostalgia, Arthur's scent is something that is warm and familiar and always fresh in Matthew's mind, but he doesn't like it any more or any less. Kissing Arthur is like sipping a hot cup of tea and feeling the heat curl all the way down to his toes, while kissing Francis is like sipping a glass of wine and feeling the liquor tingling at the tips of his fingers and fraying the neurons in his brain. He can't figure out which one he likes best.
reCAPTCHA: curly nancy. WTF?
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Obviously reCAPTCHA is sentient. ;)
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OHHHHH. I'm in love. <3
More, please, author!anon.
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I love how Francis is Papa.
I LOVE HOW LONG THIS IS AND HOW IT IS ALL GOOD WRITING!
GUH. This is just so hot, Hot, HOT!
Authoranon, surely you are a god of sexy writing. I can't wait for more.
I shall await your updates with the strongest feelings of anticipation.
Thank you so much for writing this,
sincerely
OP
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