Caramel Craquant

"À votre succès!" Olivier shouted in his natural French dialect, raising his glass to the rest of the table. We all cheered; officially making our table the loudest on the rooftop terrace. Nineteen baking students overjoyed about our upcoming graduation celebrated by all being a little too drunk. Chef Olivier decided to take us out for a very fancy meal to one of the few restaurants in town that actually had his stamp of approval. We were all very impressed. Me included. I wasn't much of a drinker, but as he sipped from his toasting glass, I was finishing my second whiskey sour.

It had been, for lack of a better word, a grueling year; the hard studying, the long nights, the dreadful exams, the fears of failing, Olivier's rugged teachings and methods. But also, trying to keep my eyes and gazes to myself for a full year was really the hardest part. It was no secret how attractive Olivier was. But it's the intimidating personality that came with those hunter green eyes that made me uneasy every time he'd pass behind us, behind me, watching, observing our every move, making sure we had been following the class thoroughly. He was a very cut throat teacher. He was intimidating beyond reason. He was a very young teacher but was named best in the country two years in a row. He was innovative, fresh, hardworking, almost on an obsessive level. And I believe that the reason I had finished among the top in my class wasn't just to hopefully receive Magna cum laude, or to even have the opportunity of working in one of the most prestigious restaurants of the city. It was to please him. To be acknowledged by him, even for a short moment.

Seeing him so relaxed in this friendly environment was almost unsettling. He was actually smiling, laughing. That smile, I thought. I remember catching a glimpse of it during our chocolate sculpting semester. The smile had been for another student of course; she had managed to impress him using unique chocolate petals and a bit of molding chocolate to transform the initial art theme into something completely different and new. She had been daring. He respected that. It was deserving of the rare Olivier smile. But that smile lingered, making everyone, including myself, envious of her for succeeding in getting his approval within the first week. I was lucky enough to have been in the line of fire when he looked up, his eyes locked on mine, those curled lips slowly fading back to serious Olivier. It wasn't my first time blushing in his direction, but I was afraid it had been the first time he noticed.

I was staring at that smile again, watching him exchanging friendly banter with some of my colleagues seated closer to him. I envied them. I envied their aloofness. I was almost thankful I wasn't sitting next to him; I might have had to hide my blushing face for the entire supper. He was practically my age but there was this presence about him. We all knew it. Some hid it better than others. I was almost relieved that my default personality was wallflower. I wasn't drawing attention to myself. Maybe a part of me wanted that acknowledgement, though. I hadn't noticed he had left his seat.

"Dans la lune, mon cher Julian?" Olivier teasingly exclaimed, knocking me out of my daze as I felt hands on my shoulders. I froze. Everyone looked in my direction, grinning. Busted, they thought. Blood rushed to my cheeks in a matter of seconds. "Huh?" was all I was able to mutter on such short notice, slowly tilting my head to meet his gaze.

"Head in the clouds?" he leaned in closer to my face and smiled. I had never been so close to the man and it practically frightened me. It took all my strength to keep my composure. His touch was light, friendly, unthreatening, yet I could feel my heart pounding. Please don't let it show, I kept repeating to myself. I managed to say the only thing I could think of to not sound like a babbling idiot.

"I was wondering if the desserts here are up to par" I smiled back. I felt one of his hands squeezed a bit more.

"Are you doubting my expertise?" His tone was almost challenging, cocky. I could smell the vermouth on his breath he was so close. If I had been further from him, perhaps the other side of the street, a moan would have escaped my mouth. Or more daring, I would have kissed him then and there. I immediately regretted my response and thought of a million better ways I could have answered him back. Had I questioned him and therefore challenged him in some way? Was I not one of his favourites anymore? Was this the last smile he was ever going to send my way? Was I obviously tipsy and making all this up in my head? I wanted to apologize for doubting him, but something came over me. Maybe the same inebriation that had gotten me into this mess was courageous enough to get me out of it. I chose the daring route, contrary to my intuition, which was screaming at me to keep my mouth shut.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I started. "But my steak was a little overdone" Shots had been fired. Yes Jules, keep digging your own grave. I was sweating through my shirt. What in my right mind pushed me to make such a bold yet stupid statement? My colleagues were gasping at the oddball talking back to Chef Olivier either in awe or in condolence, knowing it'd be my last night alive.

"I taught the head baker here. I did not teach the head chef. If your dessert is sub par Julian, I will personally come to your house and bake you something myself" was his response. He had trained the head baker... Fuck. me. He knew he wasn't baking me anything. He knew he'd have me eating my words with a spoon. But entertaining the idea of him in my home... in my kitchen... just for me... was enough to not make me want to stand up for the next few minutes. I do believe everyone at the table was envious of the gauntlet he had just thrown right at me. But we all knew how wrong I was. How I'd have to kneel and apologize for doubting him, him probably thinking of a way to embarrass me or teach me a lesson. Olivier proceeded to walk to the washrooms.

"What in god's name were you thinking?" laughed out Laura, my colleague seated to my left. "Do you have a death wish?" she asked as she took a gulp of her white wine. Maybe I did. Death would have been a sweet release right then and there. I thought I was being daring, now I was worried I had insulted the man. I guzzled down the remainder of my drink and ordered a third. And a fourth.

When desserts arrived, all eyes were unfortunately on me. I was still mentally kicking myself. The dessert was perfection. Beyond perfection. Every bite was excruciatingly delicious. My colleagues were waiting for my response. Then for Olivier's reaction to my response. Everyone tuned in like it was the last episode of a never-ending jaw dropping series. "Alors, Chef Julian? Your verdict?" Olivier stared straight at me, taunting me. This was of course all in good fun, but I do believe he had, as do all head chefs and head bakers of the trade, a certain sadistic kink in watching, no, admiring their students squirm and shit themselves. For some reason, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. It might have been the fifth whiskey sour talking. I couldn't think of anything to say that would make me look good. In a bold and yielding move, I took my empty plate and as if waving a white flag and surrendering to the stronger team, I gave the plate one long lingering lick, picking up the rest of the passion fruit coulis that remained. This was my way of saying of course you were right, now let me not insult you by leaving anything on the plate but my glossy reflection. He lightly smiled and gave me a look. Surprisingly the people applauded and we all laughed at the whole thing. But that look stuck in my brain. Had he seen something I was subconsciously sharing with him? The look suggested he had seen a side of me he wasn't expecting would come out of the shy guy in class. I have to say I was pretty proud of my move as well. I was a bit too drunk to acknowledge my trembling legs under the table. Liquid courage is an understatement.

The end of the night was approaching. Our table was the last to leave the restaurant. It was around 2 AM and five of the nineteen students remained. I was a bit too drunk for any kind of public transit so I opted for a taxi.

"Let's share one!" a tipsy Olivier suggested to Gwen, Danny and myself. Olivier wanted to make sure we all got home okay, which he felt was natural for a teacher. We crammed ourselves into the cab and started our itinerary. First one dropped off was Danny, who lived about 15 minutes away from the restaurant. He had obviously been the drunker one of all of us yet still maintained balance and was able to walk into his apartment building without falling over. We applauded from inside the car. Next up was Gwen.

Then me. I was dreading thinking I might have been the last one in the cab with Olivier. The evening had been so light and kind to me already, why not make it even more awkward and uncomfortable for yours truly? Olivier didn't hold the evening's main event against me. Instead he asked me where I planned on applying after school. He was curious to know what subjects interested me more. We chatted a bit, and then there was this silence. The alcoholic courage was wearing off but I figured being alone with him, away from everyone, in a cab, after a nice evening and both of us being a bit inebriated, it was now or never. C'mon, make an ass of yourself. You're never seeing this guy again. Be ballzy one last time. But he spoke first.

"I was amused by your cockiness tonight. I had never seen that from you in class." he was smiling. He was smiling at me. My heart melted. I didn't know what to say to that, except return his smile with a smile. I looked down.

"I'm usually not as daring. I have a tendency to second guess myself all the time," I replied. "Liquid courage is truly a thing" I tried laughing. He looked at me.

"You shouldn't second guess yourself. I saw how bold you can be when you put your heart into something. Why do you think you were the only one to get 100% in the second to last exam? You dared to try something and it paid off." He was looking right into my eyes. I gulped. He had noticed that. I had been quite proud of that exam. I risked big during that exam... he had noticed... seeing that grade had made me overjoyed.

"I didn't think I was worthy of that grade for a minute"

"Si. Tu était très digne de cette note (you were very deserving of that grade)" he was now serious. "Apprends à ne pas douter de toi même. Tout le monde y gagne" (learn to not doubt yourself. Because when you don't we all win) I looked up at him to notice a bit of redness on his cheeks. I believe the alcohol had gotten to him too. I was blushing for other reasons. I almost felt he was daring me to test out my self-doubt right about now. I was probably way off.

"Merci" (thank you) I muttered in a broken french, biting my lip.

The cab had just parked in front of my house. I had still not told him anything I wanted to. And now I was too flattered to do so.

"I wish I had had more time with you" I blurted out. In what context did he think I meant that I had no idea but it was out. I couldn't take it back. My cheeks were too warm for comfort and I was about to clarify what I meant.

"I mean-"

"Then invite me upstairs," he said. My eyes widened as I turned to face what I thought would be a grinning I'm-making-fun-of-you face. He was dead serious. I breathed in, trying to remain calm. I felt a bit dizzy.

"Wha?" my voice was almost cracking.

"Fais-pas l'innocent (don't play innocent)" his smile was soft, his gaze piercing. I gulped. I could feel my heart starting to race.

"Est-ce que... tu veux monter? (would you... like to come up?)" I asked.

In all my semesters with him, all the times we'd spent as teacher and student, all the tensions, the moments, the classes, the exams, the hidden faces and hidden emotions... all my fantasies about after class extra curricular sessions, that deserving smile everyone was desperately hoping to receive from him, all the jokes and laughs, all the almost moments where I had decided to want to be brave and say something and never did... it all vanished. It all liquified into a void of unimportance compared to the smile he gave me at that very moment:

"Avec Plaisir" (with pleasure)

As we made our way up in the elevator, I was thanking the heavens above that he was doing most of the talking. I was still under quite a shock he was even in my building, talking, smiling at me. Had I been chosen? Did he want to ease the pain of a humiliating night? Did he want to torture me even more? My racing mind was still at it. What are you gonna say? What are you doing? What if he thinks you're just going up to talk? Is my apartment even fucking clean?! Will he be thirsty? Should I ask if he wants a drink once upstairs? Hasn't he drunk enough? Would he think me impolite if I didn't ask? What if I tried something and he didn't feel the same way? Was he a violent person outside of class? Was he going to punch me in the face? My mind screamed as my head nodded at his story about his earlier years as a student himself. Ordinarily, I would listen to every word he'd utter, soak it in and be grateful he was sharing these amazing anecdotes with me. Just me. I felt terribly guilty that I was barely paying attention. My mind was elsewhere at the moment. I would at times respond with a "really?", which would gain me an extra few minutes to think of something remotely smart to say.

Once inside, I managed to ask if he wanted anything to drink.

"Or water, maybe?" I suggested, as I was digging into my head for the next terrible question.

"Just make me your specialty" he smiled, slowly taking off his coat and hanging it on one of the hooks in the entrance. "Where is your bathroom?" I pointed to the end of the corridor on his right, trying to picture and hoping my bathroom was up to par. Up to par...

...

Earlier I had managed to get his attention by being cocky. 'Hope the desserts here are up to par' had been the highlight of the evening. I had made that happen. Now here I was, fumbling with my ice cubes and glasses, making a mess in my actually clean kitchen trying to impress him with a cocktail. I wanted to be brave enough to do something... I played some music throughout the speakers of the house so as to not have it be completely awkward if I didn't say anything.

He came up behind me. I handed him his glass.

"Old fashioned. Bold" he smiled, seeming to be pleased with my choice. I was also pleased with my choice. I had opened my precious bottle of Whistle Pig Rye 10 years for his drink. Just for him.

He found his own way to my living room, slowly walking over to the sofa, looking at the decor, the walls, the multitude of frames from my vacations to the South with my girlfriend. The lighting was quite dim, but my balcony window was big enough to cast a nice ambient light into the room.

I joined him. We remained standing.

"So you have an amazing chance at picking my brain. Go right ahead. You've earned it!" he started. I looked at him, mid sip. Fuck... fuck... fuck... I knew it. He just wants to talk. I'm such a fucking idiot. C'mon think of something!

"Anything! What would you like to know? Recipe secrets? Tools of the trade?" he took a sip himself. He moaned ever so slightly, which made me in turn gasp under my breath. "Wouah... cette texture. Phenoménal" (Mmm phenomenal texture) he smelt the drink once more. He was gliding his tongue on his bottom lip, getting any droplet of drink that may have escaped. Was he trying to guess the whiskey? He smiled, which I took as a win. He was in my living room. Just him. Enjoying my drink. He was gorgeous. My eyes wandered for a moment...

Snap out of it you moron and ask the man something! My lips lingered on the rim of the glass while I thought of a question that might pass as intelligent, while trying to control my urge to weep. Hmmm, I muttered.

I managed to ask something about his favourite way of preparing a bonbon filling. He thought for a second, then answered. It was excruciating. My head was hurting. I had this pressure to keep my composure while also listening to the secrets he was dishing out just to me. I was already trying to think about my 2nd question but all I could think of was 'take off your shirt'. As he ended his explanation with a few of his favourite flavours to try with this new cocoa powder he got from Costa Rica, I had already gulped down my drink.

"And um... what do you do when.. um" I looked down at my empty glass and back at him in a bit of a daze. Guzzling down the whole thing may not have been wise. Had I already lost the question I was going to ask him? His lips curled into an unfamiliar smile. I had never seen that particular smile before. It was enticing, intimidating. I was feeling my dick getting a tad hard just by staring at him... For a moment I forgot my own name.

"Tu sais t'es craquant quand t'es nerveux?" He spoke with a playful tone, but my French wasn't quite at his level yet. I'm what when I'm nervous?

"Craquant?" I asked, intrigued.

"Adorable. Hot." he explained, making me turn a completely new shade of red, his eyes still on me. I didn't even smile. I couldn't smile. I had no words. Definitely couldn't remember my name.

"Aller" (c'mon) he said softly. "Ask me what you really wa-" (ask me what you really wan-)

"Take off your shirt" I heard myself say. My mind went blank. That liquid courage seemed to be rising again. Whatever magical words I had just spoken made Olivier take a sip of his old fashioned, place his glass on the coffee table and slowly undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Took you long enough" he smiled, slowly walking towards me.

He had me. I was confused. Horny and confused. As he got closer I could see his soft chest, barely hairy. I slowly breathed out.

"You... aren't here to answer questions..." I was slowly starting to get it.

"No, I'm not" he was now whispering as his face got inches from mine.

I felt his hand on my jeans, caressing my now fully erect dick... how I wasn't passed out on the floor from lack of oxygen was beyond me...

I crushed my lips to his. I felt his full lips respond to mine with eagerness and I couldn't help but moan into his mouth. My hands reached for his hips. Feeling his perfect skin under my fingertips, I pulled him closer to me. It all felt quite surreal for a moment, as if I could wake up at any moment. Back in the taxi, telling him goodbye, and that'd be it. Going up by myself and drinking by myself. But no. He was here. In front of me, his body pressed against mine. I was in heaven. As his lips parted for a second, his beautiful green eyes locked onto mine.

"Pas mal" (not bad) his grip tightening a bit on my cock, obviously appreciating my size. My fingers were playing with the idea of unbuckling his belt.

"I really hope that perfect mouth of yours can take it all in" was my response, shocking even myself.

"T'es encore plus craquant quand t'es baveux" (you're even hotter when you're cocky) was the last thing he said before grabbing my neck and kissing me again. And again. His body pressing me onto the nearing wall. He deepened the kiss, his tongue begging entry to my lips, which they in return were eager to comply. I could taste him. I could taste him. Taste the whiskey on his tongue. I was the one to feel him moan now. I never wanted to stop hearing that sound. Feeling that sound vibrate on my tongue. I wanted more. I needed more. Shy Julian had been replaced with horny, eager Julian and there was no stopping him. I pulled him into my bedroom.

At that exact crucial second, as his lips were playfully trying to suck the orange liqueur from my tongue and slowly making my soul ascend, I felt my phone vibrate. Oh. Come. On.

I broke the kiss, which killed me a little inside and quickly looked at my phone.

5 text messages and 3 missed calls... from my girlfriend. A knot twisted into my stomach.

My horny energy suddenly shifted into worry, my eyes meeting Olivier's.

"Problem?" Olivier asked, almost offended. Guilt in the pit of my stomach grew twofold. I felt so bad breaking that momentum, I could kick myself.

"I'm sorry, I'll be right back. This might be an emergency" I apologized and left the room. I quickly looked at the messages:

Missed message 7:34PM

[Hey baby! How's the party goin'? Txt me when you have a chance :) xx]

Missed message 10:15PM

[heyyy hope everything's ok! Jessica says hi! Txt me back :) love you]

Missed message 1:02AM

[Getting a little worried here... please let me know you're ok! Xx]

Missed message 1:53AM

[Jules???]

Missed message 2:30AM

[Please answer me...]

Missed message Now

[Jesus christ, Julian please pick up]

Well I feel terrible now... I hit redial.

"BABE?! ARE YOU OK?!!"

"Hey! Yeah I'm fine. I'm sorry! Time really escaped me."

" You had me so fucking worried!! HE'S OK!" I heard her yelling to Jessica in the background.

"Where the fuck is he??" is what I heard Jessica yell back.

"Where are you??" My girlfriend repeated, her tone was calmer now that she had heard my voice, which reassured me as well. My gut feeling was receding.

"I'm home"

"How was your party?"

"I can't really talk right now"

"Did you have the guts to tell hot teacher you like him?" she teased.

"In a way. He's here"

"... WHAT?!" is what almost deafened my left ear.

"Don't yell! I gotta go!"

"OH MY GOD He's there?! Where there?!"

"In our bedroom!" I yell-whispered, hopefully Olivier being oblivious of this ludacris discussion we were having.

"He's in our bedroom and you're elsewhere on the phone with me?! I love you babe but get the fuck back in there!"

"That's what I'm trying to do!"

"Who's there??" yelled Jessi.

"The hot teacher!"

"No way!! Get off the phone, Jules!!" were Jessi's final words of wisdom.

"Can I go now?" I intervened before more of this nonsense went on.

"Yes! Hang up! Go get him! Condoms are in the 2n drawer! I love you!"

"I love you t-" she had hung up already. I stared at the screen for a second. And smiled.

I love this woman. For a millisecond I had completely forgotten who was in the other room until I heard a light coughing. I swiftly turned and rushed through the door to find the sexiest man I'd ever laid eyes on nonchalantly laying in my bed, nothing but navy blue boxers on, smirking. The only light on was the one next to the bed, those literal bedroom eyes gleaming in the dimness of the room.

"Emergency?" he asked, his tone calm, playful, obviously having overheard the high whisper conversation going on in the living room. I blushed, vividly. I was happy I had put her worries to rest, but felt embarrassed feeling he had heard bits of the conversation.

A shy no was all I was able to blurt out as my eyes fixated on him. Every part of him... His gaze, his smile, his chest and stomach sprinkled with beauty marks, his bulge.... My shirt and pants were off in an instant. Crawling on top of him, feeling his bare skin grazing my bare skin was euphoric. I pressed myself on him as my lips met his again. Feeling the greediness of his fingers on my back made me gasp into his mouth. It only encouraged him to deepen the kiss. My hands wanted to be everywhere all at once. I was desperately trying to control my eagerness, which was slowly gaining ground over my aloofness. It was only after being on top of him for a moment that his perfume really became an intoxicating drug... my lips instinctively went for his neck. I had yet to admit to him I was pretty much new to this whole side of myself and felt like I wanted to impress him. My thoughts were so jumbled yet hearing him moan in my ear as my teeth sunk into his neck gave me an extra boost of confidence that I was going in the right direction. My erection was back with a vengeance. I wanted more of that panting in my ear. I needed more panting in my ear. Whatever the cost. That's when he flipped me over, his erection pressing on mine.

I couldn't control the eager eyes I was giving him. I just wanted to please him. I was very much inexperienced with men, but all I wanted at that moment was his approval. I want you to do whatever you want to me was my repeating mental mantra. His hand on my waist and massaging my hard dick with the other was making me feel new things. Amazing new things. I was flustered. I was barely moaning. I was probably drunkenly smiling like a dumbass.

"Are you ok?" his softening touch snapped me out of my daze. I looked at him, wide eyed.

"Yeah. Yes! I uh" I started saying, seeing a concerned look on his face.

"I'm just really nervous. This is pretty much my first time with a guy..." I finally admitted. I was internally praying I hadn't just turned him right off. This man made me nervous but excited. I wanted to see him satisfied, not see him leave.

He simply smiled and came in for another kissing session.

His hand lowering my boxers and stroking my cock got my heart racing. He was no novice... this felt incredible and all so intimidating. I couldn't imagine what else he was capable of. I could now feel his lips on my collarbone, my chest, slowly torturing me until I felt those heavenly lips wrap around my shaft. When I thought my dick couldn't get any harder.

The slow sucking and long strokes felt almost overwhelming. Quinn had quite the blowjob skills, but having a guy do it was a completely different experience. I could feel a drunken smile curl onto my lips.

"Fuck. Please don't stop." is all my brain could conjure. He kept going, taking his sweet time, his tongue caressing my head, delicately sucking on it then taking it deeper with every motion. One hand caressed my balls while the other stroked up and down... His pouty wet lips were gliding the entire length of my dick like it was nothing. My horniness took the better of me and I found myself holding his head and pushing down slightly as it reached deep into his throat.

"Sorry! It... it just felt too good..." I bit my lip as he looked up at me. He didn't seem to mind. He almost seemed amused. Pleased. He was about to resume the activity.

"Let me try..." my tongue wet my lips.

"So eager, huh?" that gaze... son of a bitch...

"I want to please you... too" I breathed out. He heard my plea and obliged. He got off the bed, took off his boxers exposing his own hard erection. I got a little nervous. He looked down at his dick, then me, as if saying I'm waiting. My cockiness from before had all but dissipated.

I sat up.

"Je veux te voir à quatre pattes quand tu me suce" his beautiful accent was like honey, incomprehensive honey. Looking up at him, pondering what 'quatre pattes' meant.

"I want to see you on all fours as you take my dick in your mouth" he translated at the request of my puzzled face. I stopped breathing for a second. Before he had time to say anything else, I was on all fours, ready to take his dick in my mouth. It's what he wanted. It's what I would be giving him.

"Yes sir" I smiled.

"Sir? We're not in school anymore you know" he kept teasing me.

"I like it. I kind of really enjoy the teacher dynamic" I bit my lip again. I think that caught him off guard. Really, he asked.

"It's not like I'd imagine scenarios like these every time I'd answer you in class" I lowered my head as I admitted that. I didn't want to but something about telling him my twisted thoughts really got me going. Placing his index finger under my chin, he made me look up.

"You enjoy getting my praise, Julian?" he furrowed his brow, cheeky smile in check. Holy shit. I melted for the 6th time that night.

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir"

My younger self from the beginning of the year just died.

At that moment, despite all the nerve and confidence I had spewed during the evening, I became completely docile. That's the path my overwhelmed mind had chosen. Less questioning, just obey. And it felt great to just let go.

A penis in my mouth was truly odd to me at first. It was an awkward few minutes. I shyly tried to imitate what he did, but I couldn't coordinate myself as well.

Yet every time I'd look up, feeling embarrassed, he'd been smiling, putting his hand on my head, guiding me into a better position or movement. I learned quickly. I got so excited when I heard those first deep moans coming out of him from what I was doing. It lit a fire in me and I just wanted to try more. And hearing him want more just made me push myself. My mouth didn't want to stop until I tasted him.

"Putain" (holy shit) was repeated several times as he threw his head back which I could only assume was a good sign. "You're getting pretty comfortable, cutie"

In a strange way, I was. I was enjoying myself. I wanted to try more things, other things. I wanted a taste of how he worked his hands, his pelvis, more of his tongue.

"That tongue of yours is impressive" he managed to say as his breathing got heavier. I wasn't going to mention how much having a girlfriend greatly helped in that scenario. I kept that one to myself. I flattened my tongue and did long slow lengthwise strokes, then hardened it when arriving at the tip, pressing his head between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I was exploring these new textures and curves and was enjoying every moment of it. I'm pretty sure him resting both of his hands on my head at one point and softly guiding his dick a little deeper could have either been a sign of encouragement or a sign that he wanted more and both those scenarios were enough to make me want to explode.

I believe he felt the same way because he asked me to get back on the bed, placing himself between my legs. I was back to flustered and nervous. Something new is about to happen again, I cheered internally. His eyes were locked on mine, slowly putting a middle finger in his mouth and taking it out, smothered in saliva, a filament dangling from the tip to his bottom lip. I gulped. I then felt said finger circling around my asshole, which made me utter a new kind of moan. Olivier saw my eyes widen as his finger zoned in closer and closer until I could feel his very lubed fingertip find its way in me, and smiled. I couldn't stop moans escaping my throat. He went a little deeper. Slow in and outs became a little faster and I couldn't get enough of it.

"Put a second one in" is what yours truly breathed out. That beautiful face of his depicted a surprised expression for the first time all night. I didn't think he could be sexier until he bit his lip and went back into me with two fingers. I started to get hot and bothered beyond comfort. I was getting too eager.

"You're doing so well, cutie. This is not your first time, is it" he whispered to me. Goddamnit that praise... I think I may have been drooling.

"I'm a little used to having things up my ass; I enjoy when my girlfriend pegs me" I shared, a bit embarrassed revealing so many details about myself in such little time.

"She's a good one," he winked. That made me giggle. I agreed, still trying to control my breathing. "You won't need so much warming up, then", retrieving his godly fingers from me, and placing his hands on my thighs, gently rubbing them, my shivers multiplying.

"Where are your condoms?" This one also made me giggle. I love her.

"In the second drawer" I replied, finally catching my breath a tad. He leaned over and grabbed a condom.

"Should... I get on all fours again?" I smiled, way too excited.

"Not for the first time. I want to see your beautiful face as you're coming" My jaw dropped. Not for the first time...? I motioned him to get closer. We made out again. His body was as warm as mine.. My nails dug in his back as I felt his dick enter me. This was so overwhelming and I couldn't get enough of it. It felt familiar yet not at all. Depraved Julian took over once more. My hands were finally able to feel every inch of his smooth skin... his arms, his shoulders.

"Not too hard?" he asked. I loved how he made sure I was alright. This was a complete night and day from the Olivier I knew. I was getting a glimpse of this Olivier and I selfishly never wanted to share. Ever.

"Not at all," I whispered back. "You're a pro at this" His pace continued. He went in deeper, hitting that oh so sensitive spot that made me arch my back.

"I believe I have a knack for it, '' he pressed in more on that spot, hitting it with every thrust. Spasms ran through my entire body.

"Give me more. I can take mor-" I covered my mouth. What are you saying?!

"Care to repeat that?" His voice was low, daring. I paused for a moment.

"I can take more" I repeated at the exact moment his pace went up a notch, which forced me to grip his sides, groaning.

I couldn't believe the words escaping my mouth. But I wanted to repeat them. Over and over. He was such a perfect size to want to go harder. This felt surreal.

"Say it again?" He was taunting me. And I wanted to comply happily. I loved this little game.

"I can take more" I repeated, his thrusting getting more aggressive. We were now both sweating, his fingers had gently wrapped around my neck. I pressed my hand on his a bit, motioning it was fine if he squeezed a little tighter. I was hoping he wasn't noticing the drool running down the corner of my mouth.

He asked if I had lube. Second drawer. He let some trickle on his dick and slid right back into me, lubbing up my walls as he fucked me deeper. He then put some on his hand and proceeded to stroke my dick again. I couldn't take this much stimulation. It felt so good I thought I'd cry. His stroking chimed perfectly with his thrusting. I was getting close but didn't want to.

"Fuck. I'm gonna come" I cried out. "I want to make you come too..." I was desperately trying to keep it together.

"You can pay me back in the morning. Now be a good boy and come for me" that devilish smile and what he just said was enough to send me over the edge.

With one last powerful cry, I ejaculated all over my stomach, some of my load actually making it to my chin and lower lip. My eyes shut tight as I continued to explode, letting out desperate moans, trying to hold on to reality. Everything felt so intense all at once I thought I might pass out. Then everything went silent. I breathed out, twitched one last time from feeling him pull out. I couldn't see anything, I couldn't hear anything for a moment. I was in total bliss. I could feel my heart pulsate through my dick. My breathing came back to normal a moment later. I finally opened my eyes. He was gone. I looked around the room, alarmed, only to see him come back into the room with paper towels.

The alcohol, the drowsiness, the post cum. It all hit me at once. My pillow never felt so comfortable, and my sheets so welcoming.

"That wasn't fair" I shyly declared, staring at the ceiling with a huge stupid smile plastered across my face. He laid next to me.

"Fair to whom? That was beautiful to watch" he smiled, leaning in for a kiss, sucking the come off my lower lip, making me gasp one last time. He's perfect.

"You... you didn't come and I'm about to pass out and I feel horrible"

"This was your first time, I had to make sure you wanted seconds. Plus what did I say before?" he calmly, almost condescendingly asked. I thought for a moment.

"You're sleeping over?" I was too tired to show it, but I was positively beaming on the inside at the thought.

"Can I sleep over, Julian?" his velvety voice oozed in my ear.

"Yesss" I smiled.

"Yes what?" Perfect.

"Yes sir" he leaned in and whispered in my ear just as I fell asleep.

"Toujours aussi craquant"

Utterly. Perfect.