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“Yes!” he moans. “Levi! Oh, minou!”
I stop immediately. “What does that mean? You have to translate that for me. No more secrets, Bastien. I mean it. Do you agree?”
“Fine. It means kitten. We use it all the time in Québec.”
“So you gave me a French term of endearment on our first morning, and just translated it into English? That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. You are so getting fucked right now.” I glance upward at the open curtains behind the couch, do a little calculation, and embed myself against the back cushions, shoving the rest of my clothes off. My cock is almost painfully hard. I turn him to the side and kiss the back of his neck as my cock finds his hole. He’s still slick, still loose enough that the tip is almost in before I pull back and swear in frustration.
“Why are you stopping?” he asks.
“I don’t have a condom on me and not going to bareback you without your consent!”
“Are we exclusive?”
I tighten my grip on his hips. “You better believe we are.”
“Then fucking do it! There. That’s consent. Fuck me, goddammit!”
I push in. “You’re such a demanding bottom.”
“Well, this is your fault.”
“You got addicted to me.” I push into him, and wait for him to accommodate my cock. The feeling is so intense I have to pace myself.
“Yes. Fine. I’m addicted to you. Please, fuck me.”
“What if we got married?” I push in one last time.
“How can you still be talking?”
Because if I don’t talk I’ll nut right here and now.
“Married Bastien,” I pull out. He whimpers again. “Gets fucked,” I push in until I’m bottomed out. “On the regular.” I slide out. Already sensitized from whatever he had been doing when I showed up, he starts pushing me out. “Married Bastien,” I whisper in his ear, “doesn’t have to fuck himself.” I pause as his body starts pushing me out.
He moans, “Fuck me!” It’s not the enthusiastic yes I was looking for, but it’s not a no either.
I push into him, setting a rhythm that he matches until my balls start to curl up. “I’ll come.”
“In me,” Bastien says. “Oh, God, I’m close.”
“Come for me, baby boy.”
He reaches back and kisses me. “Mon minou,” he whispers against my lips. I feel his body start to flex as the first waves of his orgasm start. I speed up my own pace in time with him. He breaks away and his face contorts. His ass clenches against me. He moans and I can’t hold it in. I orgasm like a bull. It feels like gallons pouring out of me. At the same time, Bastien makes one last cry. Thick white jets of cum stripe the couch cushions, the coffee table, and the floor.
I hold him close as we catch our breaths, not daring to move. I’m still embedded in him, even though I’m not hard anymore. “I think we can consider this room, and this couch, christened.” My voice is hoarse.
He laughs and reaches back, touches my cheek without looking. I tighten my grip on him as he burrows into me. “Je t’adore,” he finally says. Even I’m not so dumb that I don’t know he’s finally said what I’ve been longing to hear since the moment we first met.
People count, pray, and cry in their own language. And Bastien’s private language has always included me.
Chapter twenty-three
Bastien
Iwake up slowly, feeling perfectly content. The light through the window is bright but not jarring. My body feels loose and relaxed.
“Good morning,” Levi rumbles. He makes a happy, sleepy sound as he stretches next to me.
I freeze and turn to look at him. And then I pick up his watch. Nine minutes past nine.
