Paris (english version)

Paris

Paris at night.

The Eiffel Tower and the glow of the city of love.

Definitely different than I ever imagined, but who am I not to see the famous City of Love with the transfigured magic of a man who has found something he doesn't want to give back.

No matter how much I promised to myself and the man of my heart that I would take it easy and without any deeper meaning. And now here we are, in France in bloody Paris at night, right in front of the Eiffel Tower in a ridiculously expensive suit.

Alone.

I hear the bathroom door being closed behind me and the quiet footsteps of elegant, shiny leather shoes moving almost silently and confidently across the soft carpet in my direction.

With the champagne glass in my hand, I nod to the blonde man, who is a good two centimeters shorter than me.

However, he repeatedly denies it in an almost energetic way.

I turn to the night-time city outside the window, trying to push away the thought that in just a few hours this wonderful man will get on a plane and we will be separated by an ocean again.

As if our social and societal differences weren't already big enough.

I just manage to push the thought away when a warm, massaging hand rests on one shoulder and an almost tenderly rough chin on the other.

I can vaguely feel Henry's heartbeat against my shoulder blade as he whispers in his warm, gentle voice that, even after all these months, still sends a warm shiver over my skin:

"I think we should make love tonight."

"Pardon, what?!"

At first, my slightly drunken brain fails to grasp this statement, but when it finally sinks in, a hot cold shiver hits me and I turn to the man who is staring at me with his dark blue eyes with a mixture of vulnerability and seriousness looks at.

"Oh..." I blurt out, and at the same moment, I realize how stupid that must sound, so I try to make myself somewhat clear.

A thousand things are spinning in my head at the same time. Below that is the fact that I want it.

I want to share this most intimate of all moments that one person can share with another, with him, with Henry Fox!

And at the same time, I become aware of my inexperience.

The fact that the person I love is a man and I have never shared this intimate experience with a man.

Of course, I had read about it, yes there was enough gay porn on the internet, my browser history was full of it and I had already had one or two blow jobs in college...But the reality...This is something completely different.

So I stammer while he looks at me with this incredibly shy look that almost screams 'Ok, forget it, it was a mistake!' : " I mean yes!" And I get one of those short, almost business-like nods, which I know are usually just a polite confirmation of what the other person is saying.

"I'm down," I confirm quickly, but I can hear the uncertainty in my voice even if I try to suppress it.

As is often the case when I'm extremely nervous,

I start talking nonsense.

My brain and my mouth are usually not on the same wavelength and so I hear myself saying nonsense like: "I mean, who says 'making love' these days? Should we listen to Lana Del Ray or..." "Ok, ok..." Henry grabs the back of my head and pulls me closer to him.

He obviously sensed that I was completely helpless at this moment.

It's these moments where he takes the lead.

Maintaining the control I just lost.

He pulls me into a quick kiss to interrupt my flow of speech and looks me in the eyes with this calm self-confidence that finally focuses my mind again, at least halfway, and directs my subsequent question to a more logistical part.

At least as far as my still slightly intoxicated brain can manage, which strangely enough feels pretty darn sober.

"It's just...Who's gonna do...What?" I swallow, try to hold the gaze that becomes gentler, more understanding as I continue to stammer: "Because I am... I have...Never..."

My body seems to lose all strength under the calm, dark blue gaze, and again it is Henry who stands calm and confident as I lower my head and put it on his shoulder.

"Oh god... I'm so not acting this cool right now..."

His arms wrap around me, caressing my back, which to my shame is currently trembling in a rather unmanly manner, while giving a warm, encouraging sound.

A small laugh lifts his chest.

"I went to an English boarding school, dear. Trust me, you're in good hands."

And before my brain can really analyze this statement and ask myself what exactly this information should trigger in me, Henry gently pulls my head upwards and kisses me.

I immediately feel that this kiss is different.

In a way that makes my heart pound against my ribcage and catch my breath in my chest.

There's something incredibly sensual about the way Henry opens his dark jacket and pulls it over his shoulders.

This look that clearly shows that he not only knows what he is doing but is also completely sure of his movements.

I can't look away for a second.

The grip on his tie, which he pulls off his neck almost frantically by his standards.

The slender fingers, which can be as strong as they are tender, begin to tremble on the tiny buttons of his shirt collar. "Careful...The buttons are steady."

I see the mischief that shimmers in his wonderful eyes and is only too happy to accept the pun. It's our way of telling each other how we feel without actually saying it. "Hmhm... Ridgid."

I grin and receive a smile that makes my heart beat faster.

I can feel that my prince is excited too.

And I'm only too happy to ease the situation a little for both of us, while I finally let my hand wander over the bare skin of his hip.

God, how I love that little hollow on his hip where my hand fits perfectly.

I allow myself to think again that this spot was created just for me and pull Henry closer to me.

I can feel his breath on my face as my nose brushes against his.

We lose ourselves in this moment.

Breathe in the closeness of each other and try to master our nervousness.

I have to admit, in my case, it was in vain.

Henry's body is wonderful.

Not that I haven't known this since I was a teenager, or that I haven't had every single muscle bump memorized in my head for months, but... Well.

There's something almost magical about looking at him in the light of the fireplace, exploring his skin with my fingertips and feeling his fingers running along my arms.

He moves up my vein, caresses my chest muscles, and seems to look at me like a sculptor looking at his latest masterpiece.

I have to admit, it's these looks that touch me more deep inside than anything I've ever experienced.

I feel incredibly precious when he touches me like that and looks at me with those wonderful eyes.

His fingers slide to my chain and touch the key hanging from it. They play with it for a moment before he closes his hand around it and pulls me closer.

His lips find mine and a tender kiss steals my senses.

He opens my lips with his, lets his tongue dance over mine, and invites them to an intimate game that sends my last shred of reason on vacation for a long time.

At some point, Henry pulls me towards the bed, doesn't let go of me as he falls onto it, and laughs quietly as I lay on him.

Our kisses become more frenetic, more longing and I can feel at my stomach how hard he already is for me.

The small package in blue foil lies next to a tiny sachet of lubricant.

I've never seen anything like this before, but my mind is just so foggy that I don't care how or where Henry conjured this little thing up.

With almost dreamy certainty he slips the rubber over me and gently massages my hard shaft while looking into my eyes. Finally, he wets two of my fingers with the gel, lies back, and shows me the way.

I carefully begin to stretch the hot, throbbing muscle.

Don't even try to pretend I know what I'm doing here, just trust the look on Henry's face and his increasingly rapid breathing. Finally, he opens his thighs a little wider and I place myself between them.

Heat surrounds me, takes my breath away and I suspect that it doesn't just come from the fact that I'm lying skin-to-skin with the Prince of England.

He lifts his pelvis a little so that I slide into the right place as if by myself.

My tip slides into him and he leans towards me.

I slowly stop, even though my senses are completely overloaded.

The fear of hurting him is constantly present, but I trust Henry. Limitless...

His hand runs down my back, rests on my lower spine, and slowly presses me deeper.

I follow his silent instruction and push myself into the warm, tight, and incredibly sensual muscle channel inside Henry.

A new kind of heat surrounds me, tightness massages my shaft and my instincts become louder and louder.

Every fiber of me realizes what is happening.

We are one.

Henry's lips part and he briefly searches my gaze as he leans forward. His body is getting used to my shaft inside him. Whereupon a hurtful blush forms on his wonderfully open face and he lets out a long breath and visibly relaxes.

He is ready and so am I.

His nod is a sign for me to move slowly.

Damned...

This tightness paired with Henry's look...

Full of trust.

I slowly start to move a little out and back into him.

Savor the feeling of delicious tightness around me while our eyes never lose contact.

I want to tell him how much this means to me, how happy I am to share this moment with him, and that he is what makes it so special. But all I can say is, "I can't believe how wrong I was about you."

It's my way of telling him that I love him without being able or even allowed to say the three magic words.

I know this should be harmless and indifferent...But it's not.

And if I correctly interpret the look in the slightly veiled eyes in front of me, then that's not it for him either.

"Most people are." He breathes back and I feel a tingle running down my spine.

His body leans towards me and asks me to move again and I let myself drift.

Synchronize my movements with his as our lips meet.

At first, it was controlled and intimate, but with every minute that our connection lasted, it became more erratic.

His hand on the pillow tries to find support and tenses up, so I push mine in to make it easier for him.

His fingers immediately intertwine with mine, the fingers of his other hand holding first in my hair, then on my shoulder, before literally digging in as his movements become more frantic.

His breath hitches as he presses his forehead against mine again.

I hear him breathe with my name on his lips, along with a hoarse whisper from God and a merely breathed hint that he's so close.

For me, it's the same.

Henry's body, the limitless proximity to him, takes my breath away.

The fingers of his hand tighten around mine, I can feel him starting to shake as, with a pleading in his eyes, he loosens his fingers and pushes mine deeper towards his throbbing arousal at my stomach.

Understanding, I reach for it, trying to adjust my hand to my rhythm, but the moment Henry's hips rise beneath me and his whole body trembles in a hoarse, hot breath, I lose concentration.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can still feel sticky hot liquid coating my fingers as my mind goes blank and enters the almost painfully sweet delirium that is my climax.

I hear myself gasping his name, whispering incoherent things that my subconscious produces without me doing anything, and finally collapse, exhausted and flooded with endorphins, gasping for breath over the heavily breathing Henry.

It takes a few minutes until I'm at least physically able to move again.

With practiced movements I free myself from the rubber, clean us both with a few tissues that are lying next to us on the nightstand, and throw the bundle with the remains of our lust into the cosmetic bin next to my bed.

Henry scoots closer, rests his still slightly sweaty head on my chest, and sighs happily.

I kissed his head of hair, but I could no longer raise my hand to stroke the soft hair.

Wonderfully exhausted physically and mentally, I close my eyes and let the sweet post-coital delirium encompass my senses.

With Henry Fox, in my arms