I'll Be Better At The French Oral
A little ficlet for the kink meme prompt of Benzaie teaching Phelous some 'French'. I'm not really sure if this is what the prompter had in mind, since they wanted French-ness, Canadian-ness, kinky shennagians, and dub-con, but I tried to include them all. I'm not very good at writing dub-con, so I just used everyone being drunk for that aspect. I think it turned out well. I at least enjoyed writing another Benzaie/Phelous fic, since they don't get prompted too often!
The title comes from Steve during a World's Worst about taking exams. I think it fits this fic very well!
Benzaie felt nice and buzzed after an evening of drinking with his fellow Channel Awesome producers. He was good at holding his alcohol, apparently the best of the group, since Film Brain had already passed out in the bathroom, and Todd and Paw were stumbling drunkenly through the hallway of the hotel, singing at the tops of their voices. The final member of their drinking crew, Phelous, was finishing the last drops of his fourth bottle and swaying unsteadily as he peered around the cozy room.
“You know, the way you speak French?” he asked Benzaie, red-eyed and blinking heavily. “It’s really silly.” Benzaie smiled up at the taller man and stood up to move beside him. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions enough that he felt like anything could happen tonight.
“I thought you Canadians were supposed to be polite,” he said with a teasing smile as he reached out to playfully shove Phelous backwards. Phelous bumped into the door to the room, but far from seeing annoyed, he actually smiled back.
“Okay. ‘Scuse me, but, you talk really, really silly. Surry aboot that.” Benzaie chuckled as Phelous exaggerated his accent and moved closer again, close enough to set his hands on Phelous’s waist.
“Oh really? Because I think the way you speak Canadian is silly. You talk like Americans, but spell things like the Brits, which is fucking stupid.” Benzaie trailed several fingers up and down Phelous’s sides as he spoke, causing Phelous to squirm a little.
“Well-well-well, at least our words don’t ‘ave sexes,” he slurred after a moment, his eyes closing as Benzaie slipped a finger under the fabric of his shirt to stroke the soft skin underneath.
“Ah, but that’s what makes the French language so beautiful,” Benzaie murmured, allowing more fingers to gently caress all along Phelous’s body. “For example, this door here-it is feminine.” Benzaie shoved Phelous with a bit more force against the door before extending his hand toward the taller man’s crotch, grasping him gently through the warm denim. “La porte.”
“Ohhh,” Phelous moaned, seemingly pleased by the action, but also a bit confused. “Wha-what are you-”
“And this,” Benzaie continued, shoving Phelous again so that his back slammed against the nearby wall, “is masculine. Le mur.” Normally he wouldn’t be able to move the taller man so easily, but Phelous seemed to be growing closer to unconsciousness with each passing minute.
“Benzaie,” he started to say, but Benzaie was focused on squeezing Phelous’s cock until it made a very noticeable tent in his jeans.
“Don’t you like my lessons?” Benzaie wondered, one hand wiggling past Phelous’s waistband to cup his ass. Phelous moaned again and gripped tightly to Benzaie’s shoulders, which only encouraged him. “Don’t you want to learn more, mon ami?” His fingers massaged and explored the taller man’s flesh until Phelous started to shudder and pant.
“O-okay.” Benzaie guided the somewhat cumbersome Phelous across the room until he managed to position him so he was bending over a large table, knocking off the phone and several water glasses in the process.
“Tables are also feminine,” he murmured after pulling down Phelous’s pants and rubbing a few fingers against his entrance. Phelous gasped, although it came out muffled since his face was pressed into the cool mahogany, and gripped the edges of the table firmly.
“F-fuck.”
“I will, mon critique,” Benzaie whispered before roughly pushing himself inside the other man. Phelous’s gasps grew longer and more ragged with each thrust, and he gripped the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. Benzaie pushed as deeply into him as he could and groaned until he came, screaming Phelous’s name as he did.
“Oh Phelous! Mon dieu!”
Benzaie sighed after pulling out and collapsed into the wheeled chair sitting a few inches from the desk. “Fuck, Phelous, I-”
Benzaie stopped when Phelous pulled himself up and turned around, his throbbing cock pointing directly into the smaller man’s face. He looked a little dizzy and his eyes were completely bloodshot, but his lips were curled into a smile.
“Is that chair a girl or a boy?” he asked. Benzaie chuckled and stroked Phelous’s cock until it twitched.
“La chaise is feminine,” he said before finally taking Phelous into his mouth, lavishing his cock with his quick tongue until Phelous arched his back and came with a low moan. Benzaie lapped up each drop before swallowing, a satisfied smile crossing his features.
“So what do you think of French now, Phelous?” For a brief moment, before he stumbled over to the bed to pass out for the night, Phelous sobered up as he pulled up his pants and peered solemnly down at the Frenchman.
“Your excessive use of tongue is definitely not silly.”
The title comes from Steve during a World's Worst about taking exams. I think it fits this fic very well!
Benzaie felt nice and buzzed after an evening of drinking with his fellow Channel Awesome producers. He was good at holding his alcohol, apparently the best of the group, since Film Brain had already passed out in the bathroom, and Todd and Paw were stumbling drunkenly through the hallway of the hotel, singing at the tops of their voices. The final member of their drinking crew, Phelous, was finishing the last drops of his fourth bottle and swaying unsteadily as he peered around the cozy room.
“You know, the way you speak French?” he asked Benzaie, red-eyed and blinking heavily. “It’s really silly.” Benzaie smiled up at the taller man and stood up to move beside him. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions enough that he felt like anything could happen tonight.
“I thought you Canadians were supposed to be polite,” he said with a teasing smile as he reached out to playfully shove Phelous backwards. Phelous bumped into the door to the room, but far from seeing annoyed, he actually smiled back.
“Okay. ‘Scuse me, but, you talk really, really silly. Surry aboot that.” Benzaie chuckled as Phelous exaggerated his accent and moved closer again, close enough to set his hands on Phelous’s waist.
“Oh really? Because I think the way you speak Canadian is silly. You talk like Americans, but spell things like the Brits, which is fucking stupid.” Benzaie trailed several fingers up and down Phelous’s sides as he spoke, causing Phelous to squirm a little.
“Well-well-well, at least our words don’t ‘ave sexes,” he slurred after a moment, his eyes closing as Benzaie slipped a finger under the fabric of his shirt to stroke the soft skin underneath.
“Ah, but that’s what makes the French language so beautiful,” Benzaie murmured, allowing more fingers to gently caress all along Phelous’s body. “For example, this door here-it is feminine.” Benzaie shoved Phelous with a bit more force against the door before extending his hand toward the taller man’s crotch, grasping him gently through the warm denim. “La porte.”
“Ohhh,” Phelous moaned, seemingly pleased by the action, but also a bit confused. “Wha-what are you-”
“And this,” Benzaie continued, shoving Phelous again so that his back slammed against the nearby wall, “is masculine. Le mur.” Normally he wouldn’t be able to move the taller man so easily, but Phelous seemed to be growing closer to unconsciousness with each passing minute.
“Benzaie,” he started to say, but Benzaie was focused on squeezing Phelous’s cock until it made a very noticeable tent in his jeans.
“Don’t you like my lessons?” Benzaie wondered, one hand wiggling past Phelous’s waistband to cup his ass. Phelous moaned again and gripped tightly to Benzaie’s shoulders, which only encouraged him. “Don’t you want to learn more, mon ami?” His fingers massaged and explored the taller man’s flesh until Phelous started to shudder and pant.
“O-okay.” Benzaie guided the somewhat cumbersome Phelous across the room until he managed to position him so he was bending over a large table, knocking off the phone and several water glasses in the process.
“Tables are also feminine,” he murmured after pulling down Phelous’s pants and rubbing a few fingers against his entrance. Phelous gasped, although it came out muffled since his face was pressed into the cool mahogany, and gripped the edges of the table firmly.
“F-fuck.”
“I will, mon critique,” Benzaie whispered before roughly pushing himself inside the other man. Phelous’s gasps grew longer and more ragged with each thrust, and he gripped the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. Benzaie pushed as deeply into him as he could and groaned until he came, screaming Phelous’s name as he did.
“Oh Phelous! Mon dieu!”
Benzaie sighed after pulling out and collapsed into the wheeled chair sitting a few inches from the desk. “Fuck, Phelous, I-”
Benzaie stopped when Phelous pulled himself up and turned around, his throbbing cock pointing directly into the smaller man’s face. He looked a little dizzy and his eyes were completely bloodshot, but his lips were curled into a smile.
“Is that chair a girl or a boy?” he asked. Benzaie chuckled and stroked Phelous’s cock until it twitched.
“La chaise is feminine,” he said before finally taking Phelous into his mouth, lavishing his cock with his quick tongue until Phelous arched his back and came with a low moan. Benzaie lapped up each drop before swallowing, a satisfied smile crossing his features.
“So what do you think of French now, Phelous?” For a brief moment, before he stumbled over to the bed to pass out for the night, Phelous sobered up as he pulled up his pants and peered solemnly down at the Frenchman.
“Your excessive use of tongue is definitely not silly.”