Entrevue

There was no barrier and no defence, the movements flew and rippled like a young river, purling avidly as the warm hand, yet on his face, moved to lie on Michel's neck and holding it tight as if there was defence. Michel leant up toward the bent over Luc, as good as he could to move in and to move with but he didn't know where to go. Soon his hands at least found a way to go, namely to this infamous pullover and, driven by curiosity and fervour, he tucked on it and stretched the fabric lightly to gain himself some access to find the origin of this scent that had again bedazzled his dizzy mind. There was light brown hair, trailing up higher—or lower, depending on where one wanted to go, and his hand wanted to move up to where Luc's chest was well defined and even higher, where the neck began. Out of a sudden he missed the pair of lips upon his as they strode ahead to his neck and ended there, teasing the skin, making him shiver anew and surrender in pondering if he should stand up or remain sitting on his ebony coloured chair.

And a soft question rose in between a pull on the clothing and an attempted catch of something to kiss. "Is there paint also on my neck?" Asked Michel and Luc drew back just enough to conjure and answer, which was: "Maybe not there but somewhere else;" he stood tall, and he wasn't much taller than Michel (would he bother to rise). "I'm trying to find out."

And now, a little too harsh maybe, Luc got a grip on Michel's shirt and pulled him up to him, looking down at the pretty face with its little marks and the light colour on there still, and he felt the uncertainty as it was upon him, in the way of the process in this play as much as the layer of clothes. The kiss then, blithely ignored any of the aforementioned, was continued.

Luc's hand fell down to below the waistband of Michel's leger trousers to have found what he was looking for and the secret revealed, there was repulsion first appearing but then, it was too stimulating to move back and the massage had Michel become quite bold now that the border was eventually erased such thing as feeling a little shame had disappeared with the longing for satisfaction. He pushed against the other looking out for an entity of support, and found nothing but a wall. Taken aback by this unexpected impetus, Luc's grip between the thighs has gotten a bit firmer;the reins have become tighterand the sun weaker. The wall was the end of the pushed move onward as Luc's back hit it hard and his hand rushed from beneath around to Michel's back, pushing up the shirt and running a hand across the pale skin, lightly scratching as it flew down to grip the backside, squeezing it a bit and letting go to exchange a few looks as the kiss was yet interrupted again. Luc's other hand touched the visage of the painter, who blinked at it, and his fingertips counted the freckles upon his face and sometimes, he found a mark of different kind and a wrinkle.

Michel was not in the mood to lead, as he had never truly been (in fact he would have always preferred such thing), and so he slinked backward, as good as could without limping too much (as he didn't find that very graceful), his bed was near and like a wily tomcat he wanted to discover what the actual stranger would do if he would sit down and undo himself. The answer was that, as soon as he sat, the tomcat was approached and the first thing to lose was his shirt and later his lower garments. And he lay on his back looking at the ceiling with the warmth of someone else atop of him; he closed his eyes as Luc thought he should replace the clothes with something else, soon there was his eager mouth doing so.

It was slow, that movement on his gender, as if the performer was simultaneously busy with something else. Maybe he was trying to accompany him in nudity and now Michel felt bad for not assisting this cause. His hands were looking for a grip as the tongue increased the play and the mouth enclosed around the shaft to move up and down... and up and down and it went on, a haze ascended in his mind and he was somewhere off this world, one hand then found Luc's head and rested on the back of his neck; sometimes he gripped the flesh and sometimes he didn't, just having it here laying, waiting for another moment of almost reaching the peak but it wasn't there yet. His back arched a little bit and two hands quickly manoeuvred beneath it as he laid it back on the mattress. His hips then began to move with the mouth and satisfying release was preluded by a soft moan set free between clenched teeth and it was unloaded by a handful of jerky thrusts.

Calming down from this experience, Michel remained in the warm mouth for the half of his length as tongue was moving along his shaft to have himself neat and comfortable. And Luc's tongue was quite an acrobat, and so were his hands, all at once drove him a little mad. Now those hands were on his south, on the back and they managed to massage him and arouse him as they have done before; he twitched at the hands there and how they probably prepared him for a bigger impact; if this one was to come.

Luc knelt in front of the bed, his head still between these legs that were covered by soft hair, a fair and thin layer it was, tickling his cheeks whenever there was a peak caused be the treatment; and he felt there was another round coming as his hand accompanied his mouth on the side, probing him carefully and penetrating his arousal.

But Luc stopped and moved up to find Michel's face and airily brush it with his lips, taking his left wrist and shoving it down to his own erection having happened in the process of pleasing the painter. Clumsily, Michel took it and began to rub it as he remembered how to do it. As the man on him thrust his hips softly, he decided to tighten this grip; having him expel sweet sighs and groans against his cheek. Luc's round butt rubbed against the half erect gender, teasing it with intention or not and as the groans turned into lustful moans, Michel wanted himself to be ignored no longer, but at the same time he told himself to not be so selfish. His right hand held on to Luc's thigh as he had straddled him, and he pushed him down against the tip, and the tip against a warm, dry wall which had him excited in full solidity again. A soft suckling on the top one's earlobe tried to convince of having that entrance. Luc tilted his head toward the lips and ignored the plead until he would have had his share, not taking too long as Michel's lips still begged for the same thing. The thrusts into his hand became fiercer and the breath against his skin rapid and moist; he heard him swallowing as followed by a growl; his stomach had turned wet but as much it made him feel inconvenient.

Finally, Luc lowered himself on Michel who still had a layer of wetness on himself caused by the oral play before, his size of remarkable design in length and in width both asking for caution; three attempts later, Michel felt himself eased inside his company and both hands wandered up, to Luc's shaved face and embraced it as his eyes opened after such a long while and they grazed across the moving sculpture which was Luc's body. He hadn't spent much attention to it before and now he had the chance as his length entirely disappeared having Luc clear his throat trying to hide grunting.

Michel's mouth was dry but he didn't hold back to lean his mouth against Luc's shoulder, to tease the skin with his tongue and follow the lines of his muscles to his forearm, taking the hand to feel the palm's skin on his lips and taste of what was left there of himself as he started to raise and lower his hips on the bed in an adequate rhythm.

But then the hand was pulled away abruptly and pushed, as his other one, against the mattress with each little growth of pace and strength Michel performed. Having nothing to gnaw on, Michel felt suddenly lost and his lips strolled across Luc's face, which appeared stern to him, and he peered down to find if Luc liked this andhe did. Maybe that was the reason of his face appeared so serious. Michel's hands boldly placed themselves on Luc's thighs, each hand on one thigh, and near the spot where hip and leg met, he gripped and massaged still inquiringly looking at the precious face of his company; having him relax a bit more so the expression would go through a positive change. With his, Luc's package was noticeable on Michel's stomach and it only strengthened the excitement. Michel's head threw back and he had to close his eyes and lift his loins toward the backside on him more than once, whilst Luc attended the neck and the chest with keen flicks and licks of his tongue, at times he suckled on the skin and left a reddish mark on there before he continued to create a new one until he heard croaky sighs leaving Michel and this was an obvious sign of another apex; not reached simultaneously. But then Luc's gender was taken again by, this time, both of Luc's hands, and he bent over so that their chests touched; and his head rested heavily against Michel's sweaty neck, his lips collected the beads as he writhed atop of him alternately either kissing or moaning. His backside was handled roughly by the end and he felt not only the pole filling but also the fluids, shot by three harsh thrusts followed by a sizzling orchestra of breathy babbles against the side of his head. And he bit the skin on Michel's neck gently when those jerks occurred to hide the light pain coming with it. This made him too release and he hasn't felt as hollow as he did right in this moment as Michel's gender slipped out and also his spuds felt empty as he himself still rested on two wet palms.

To make up his bites, Luc cared to have the skin nursed with his pecks and nuzzles of his damp lips as he stretched out on Michel, lightly sliding to his side, one leg slightly arched across the painter's crotch.

Luc stopped kissing and beheld Michel's side face with the closed eyes; he reached out and touched the facial hair with two fingertips, tickling the skin underneath making his nose wiggle and his lips curl. He wanted to find out about the painter and why he had those scars on various parts of his body; what had created them and why he limped (he had seen it even though the painter tried to hide it). But mayhap these questions had come aboard simply because of this effect a climax had on people.

Michel's chest still heaved in exhaustion, Luc's odour hung in the air as well as all the other musky scents men release during and after sex; the room was full of it and deep inside a dark corner of his head, Michel wanted more of that. He wanted to know how it felt to have Luc inside him, instead of being inside him. The desire was prominent but how does one communicate such a desire? Thus he had turned around, his back to Luc, not removing the leg which was now dangling across his hip, and he shifted close until he felt the hair on Luc's chest and the sweat there on his back. Modulated hands rubbed his back and a forehead rested between his shoulder blades following the hands to very end of this place before it all vanished and he was surprised by a wet sensation on his backside. Penetrating— and he frolicked, whined and rolled to lie on his stomach biting the fabric of his pillow.

The tongue, after a minute or two, was replaced by two fingers, probing and teasing before everything was gone; Michel wanted to rise and find out had happened, but as soon as his head lifted off the pillow and moved to turn around, something warm and hard entered him with once, having his head fall back onto the pillow. His hips were also gripped and raised as Luc was inside, and he pulled out again almost entirely before sliding back in. and this continued for fifteen times as Michel counted it silently, and not slow at all but fast and daring. Then there was a transition into pounding.

He screamed in the pillow until his head was red but more in delight than anything else and he wouldn't have mind if the pace was even quicker and the force even stronger. It could have perpetuated... this moment, this moment when you almost lost it again in an apex rolling over you like a freight train and ripping your body apart; this feeling of superior want and need but he didn't want it to end. But the speedy pounding made it almost impossible to try to prolong it. His gender twitched hovering above the mattress and at some point he liked to touch it but then he didn't. He was caught in a challenge with himself resting on his elbows, which were placed above his head, and his neck was bent as much as the rest of his body, not finding a position that had him not uncomfortable. And his right leg, the one with the limp, ached being arched but he didn't care about any of that as long as the ride would continue.

Michel heard the release of the man behind him announced with euphonious gasps and his neck was grasped by the time that Luc was done catching his breath. The painter whined not having had the luxury yet, but Luc massaged his package and by the first touch, he was unloading in a sharp noise somewhere between a low howl and a purr.

He needed to move, to stretch his leg and to roll his neck but he could not. A rustle was heard, and he didn't even notice how Luc had removed himself from the narrowness and now lay beside him again until he forced Michel to join him. And he thankfully did; plumping down on the bed. Their side's touched and later, as Michel had almost fallen into delirious slumber Luc's head and left arm was put on his back.