Dinner for One (7 page)

“Bedside cabinet, first drawer.” While James is getting the lube, Bastien grabs one of the pillows from the head of his bed and slides it under his hips.

James makes a choked-off noise, and Bastien turns to see him holding his plug. It’s a bright blue tapered plug, with several notches in the long length of it. He’d forgotten it was in that drawer. James pulls out the beads next. Bastien flushes all over. He’s got other toys in that drawer, but James doesn’t pull them out. Bastien thinks about letting James use all of them on him, of blowing him while James fucks him with the thick vibrator that’s stashed at the back of the drawer.

His breathing stutters.

The smile he receives from James is wicked. He holds them both up. “Decisions, decisions,” he says.

“Beads,” says Bastien immediately, cock twitching at the mere thought of them inside him.

James puts the plug back, grabs the lube and condom, and knee walks over to between Bastien’s spread legs. He drops everything, except for the condom, which he rolls on slowly. He runs his hands up Bastien’s legs, grabs his thighs, and spreads them even wider, holding him open. He props himself on his knees and elbows, ass wiggling enticingly in the air, and sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh of Bastien’s inner thigh. He holds Bastien still as he squirms, a high-pitched embarrassing noise ripping from his throat.

He leaves a trail of bite marks up, till his nose is nuzzling Bastien’s sac. He lets go of Bastien’s legs, letting them hang over his shoulder, and gets both of his hands under Bastien’s ass. He tilts him up, spreads him wide.

Bastien whines loud and long, reaching down to sink his fingers into James’s slightly wet hair. He has to bite his lip to keep French expletives from pouring free.

His back arches off the bed at the first touch of James’s tongue over his hole. It’s hot and wet, and he hasn’t been touched like this in so long. James isn’t hesitant or slow. He goes right for it. One of Bastien’s hands goes to his headboard, bracing himself, and the other tightens in James’s hair. “
S’il te plaît
,
S’il te plaît
,” he gasps, legs clenching around James’s torso.

James groans into him, flicking his rim with his tongue, applying the barest hint of pressure. He moves one of his hands to join his mouth, lets the dry tip of his finger open him up before he withdraws. He alternates between his finger and his tongue, till Bastien’s heels are going to leave permanent indents in his back, and he’s worried he might actually come before James gets to use the beads.

He flexes his fingers in James’s hair, tilts his head back till his forehead hits the headboard. “Fuck,” he groans. “
S’il te plaît
!” He feels sloppy and loose enough that the beads will go in without too much trouble but still tight enough that he’s going to feel the stretch. He has to release James’s hair, grabbing the base of his cock and squeezing hard when James slides his index finger all the way in and nudges at his prostate.

The noise he makes is near inhuman.

Bastien speaks perfect English, but for the life of him, he can’t stop gasping broken words in French. It’s like he’s forgotten an entire language.

James crooks his finger, continuously rubbing the pad over Bastien’s prostate till he’s completely arched up, damn near crying. Precome is running down his abs, trickling toward his chest as James all but milks him.

When he withdraws, Bastien shakes his head no and tries to pull him back, grasping for his hair, his shoulders, anything. James laughs, pressing kisses to his inner thigh while he slicks up the beads. “Shh,” he says. “I’ve got you.” He nuzzles him there, brushing his mouth, his cheek, over Bastien’s balls, pressing soft kisses to the painfully aroused flesh.

Bastien’s chest is heaving, ribs aching from how hard he’s breathing. He honestly doesn’t know if he can take much more. He feels like they’ve been at this for hours, and his body is wrung out, teetering on a knife’s edge.

“I’m going to come,” he says, voice cracked and scratched and not at all his normal one.

James tilts his head, pressing a wet kiss to Bastien’s knee. “Not yet you’re not,” he says, tone firm, like he believes he can keep Bastien from coming just by telling him so. “None of that till I say.”

He has to squeeze his eyes shut to try and calm himself. His breath hitches when he feels the first cool bead rub against his hole. He shifts his hips into the pressure, trying to get it inside. “Uh-uh,” teases James. “Eyes open if you want me to start.”

It’s an effort, but he gets them open and trains them on James’s smirking face. His cheeks are flushed; his eyes are almost nothing but pupil. His dirty-blond hair hangs loose and wet around his face, no longer perfectly styled, framing his sharp features, making him appear roguish. As he watches, James shoves the loose strands back with his free hand, tucking them behind his ear.

“Ready?” he asks, running his hand over Bastien’s heaving flank.

Bastien finds that words have abandoned him entirely, so he nods, shifts his legs as wide as they’ll go. If James wasn’t in his way, he’d reach down and spread himself. James’s long dark lashes flutter, and he groans lowly. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous. You’re so lovely.” He runs his hand up Bastien’s thigh while he presses the first bead in.

They both moan when his hole closes around the ball with a quiet sucking noise. Bastien shifts his hips restlessly, feeling the bead move in an entirely unhelpful way. It isn’t where he
needs
it. He tilts his ass up, sinks his teeth into his lip, and looks at James pleadingly.

James doesn’t make him wait. The second bead is slightly bigger, stretches him just that bit more. James has to push a little harder, swiveling the ball before it pops in, and Bastien’s thighs tense, unable to hold back the orgasm. James’s grip around the bottom of his cock is hard, and Bastien cries out as his orgasm is stopped before it can start. James keeps his hand there till Bastien relaxes minutely, till he can nod and say, “
S’il vous plait
.”

The third bead leaves him shaking, hands curled into the sheets so tightly his knuckles ache. James hunches over, presses kisses to his stomach, licks up trails of precome, tilting his head so Bastien can see his tongue swipe through the mess.

If that was meant to give Bastien a minute to settle, it doesn’t work.

There’s a string of precome trailing from just above his belly button to James’s bottom lip when he presses the fourth bead in. He has to close his eyes then. If he doesn’t he’s going to come, and he’s not supposed to yet. Tears squeeze out from his clenched eyes, and he feels James’s tongue sweep over his cheek a minute later.

“Okay?” he asks.

Bastien nods.

“Can I get that verbally?”

“Oui.”

The fifth and final bead, by far the largest, touches his hole. It’s dripping with lube, his crack is slick with it, the pillow underneath him wet.

James pops it in in one smooth move.

He has to put both of his hands on Bastien’s hips to keep them from flying up.

Bastien begs and begs for release, everything coming out in streams of broken French he doubts James even understands. But James doesn’t tell him he can. He runs his hands over Bastien’s heaving stomach, over his hips and his thighs. He tells him how beautiful and perfect he is, how
good
.

And then he grabs the string trailing from Bastien’s clenching rim. “Come,” he says, and he yanks the beads out one after the other in a smooth pull.

Bastien comes through the whole thing, his body curling up on itself. He shoots all over his stomach, his balls literally emptying themselves of anything they had left. It
hurts
, and he loves it. He doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his entire life. He might be crying a little.

James crawls up him, hikes his legs over his shoulders, and slides right into his now-stretched hole. Bastien makes a punched-out-sounding noise, can’t do much more than hang on for the ride. He’s never felt anything like it. He’s sensitive, extremely so, and every drag of James’s cock feels like another orgasm is about to be wrenched from him.

It doesn’t take long before James is on the edge, his body shuddering over Bastien’s, his breathing harsh pants and low grunts. He pulls out, and Bastien whimpers, confused. “Shhh, shh,” says James, moving to straddle Bastien’s chest, knees pressing either side of his ribs. He pulls the condom off and strokes himself, hand a quick-moving blur.

He comes all over Bastien’s neck and face, lines of heat dripping down to coat his lips and slick his skin.

“Fuck,” he sighs out after, barely a noise at all. He trails his fingers through his mess on Bastien’s face, slips them into Bastien’s mouth so Bastien can eagerly suck his fingers clean. Once he’s cleaned Bastien’s face that way, he collapses on his side, slinging a leg over Bastien’s hips. He tucks his face against Bastien’s neck, makes a low snuffling noise.

He noses up, nips Bastien’s ear, and asks, “How do your legs feel now?”

Bastien laughs.

Chapter Five

BASTIEN WAKES
to a warm, heavy weight over his stomach, a line of heat all along his side. When he breathes in, something tickles his nose. He stretches against the warmth, flexing his toes and arching his back, feels the weight move with him. Cracking open his eyes, he takes in the sight of James lying by his side.

His arm is thrown over Bastien’s bare torso, hand clasping his side possessively. Love bites and bruises trail down his chest, stand out on his abdomen. They’re a beautiful mix of dusky red and soft purple, splotches of color that make something inside of him practically purr. Bastien smiles sleepily, running a finger over a mark directly above his right nipple. When he pushes on it, it’s the tiniest bit sore, and his cock gives a halfhearted twitch of interest.

James’s head is shoved into the crook of Bastien’s neck, his breath a steady flow against Bastien’s sensitive skin. His hair tickles the side of Bastien’s face, and if he turns his head, he can inhale the faint smell of sweat and apple-scented shampoo.
His
shampoo. James snuffles against him, eyelashes fluttering against Bastien’s jawline. His hips give a lazy, rutting push along Bastien’s side, his morning wood nudging his thigh.

“Morning,” James mumbles, voice rough from sleep. He doesn’t open his eyes.

If he could, Bastien would freeze this moment in time.

“Morning,” he says back, pressing a kiss to the top of James’s head. “Do you have to work today?”

He feels him shake his head no. “Do you?”

“Mhm,” answers Bastien, sliding the bottom of his foot up James’s calf. He loves the way his hair feels along the sole of his foot, the way he can feel the muscles in his calf. “In at eleven.” He trails his fingers up James’s back, explores the dip of his spine, the wings of his shoulders. “I can make breakfast?”

James kisses underneath his jaw. “I can help.”

“You can cook?” He lets his hand wander to James’s ass, strokes his fingers over the firm swell of each cheek.

“Yes,” says James on a quiet laugh. “I’ve been told I’m decent.”

“Only decent?” teases Bastien.

He grunts as James rolls on top of him, resting his entire weight on him. He spreads his legs, bending his knees to bracket him. He gives a short push with his hips, tilting his head to kiss James’s smirk.

James pulls away, toothy smile on his face. He pushes himself up onto his hands and knees over Bastien. Bastien glances down the line of his body, to his dangling cock and the strong line of his muscled thighs. It’s a lovely view.

It’s less lovely when James leaves the bed, ass cheeks flexing as he heads for the bathroom. “Up, sleepyhead,” he says. “I’m going to wow you with my culinary skills.”

He’s pleasantly sore as he stands, his muscles twinging, legs unsteady for a brief moment. He isn’t sure about etiquette for something like this, so he goes to use his guest bathroom to freshen himself for the day.

When he comes out, James is already in the kitchen, having made himself at home. He’s got bowls on the island and a mixer to the side. His now red-brief-clad ass wiggles in the air as he bends to look through the bottom drawers of Bastien’s fridge. He’s also wearing one of Bastien’s shirts, a plain black one. His legs look fantastic in the soft morning light.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, scanning his gaze over everything he’s pulled out. He’s trying to figure out what James has in mind.

“Apples,” says James, standing up with three of them clasped in his hands. He sets them on the counter and goes back to the fridge. “Can you get flour and cinnamon?”

“Crepes?” he asks, shooting an amused glance at James as he goes to fetch the items. “Apple crepes? How French of you.”

James chuckles, head bent to the task of peeling the apples. His fingers are sure and capable as he slides the knife under the skin. “I expect an American breakfast from you next time. Or Russian if you’re feeling fancy. I’ve got a fondness for Russian cuisine, but can’t seem to ever cook it right when I try.”

Bastien is glad his back is to James so he can’t see the absolutely giddy look on his face at those words. Next time. James wants there to be a next time. He must not do a good job of clearing the expression because James sends him a knowing look when he hands over the ingredients.

They work together, moving easily around each other in the kitchen like they’ve done this hundreds of times before. Ingredients are handed over with little prompting, the batter is thoroughly whisked and left to sit, the filling made to perfection.

Bastien turns on his Spotify as they cook, letting Matt Nathanson fill the silence. Neither of them feels the need to chat while they make breakfast, both of them firmly in the routine, the motion of it. They’re comfortable together, or at least Bastien is, and James appears to be. Occasionally they lightly brush hands or shoulders. Bastien gets momentarily distracted when James shuts a drawer with a swing of his hips.

Butter sizzles as it melts on the pan, and he hands James the cubed apples, watching as he tilts them into the heated skillet. He gets the cinnamon and sugar ready to go for when the apples are cooked enough, watching as James expertly turns his slim wrist to shake them around and make sure they’re thoroughly softened and browned.