Whipped-Sequel to Caramel Craquant

Whipped - Sequel to Caramel Craquant

By Seki

Here I thought the flight turbulence, the overly packed airport, the agonizing waiting line to get out of said airport and the borderline criminal driving of our taxi driver had been enough to completely drain my stress meter for the entirety of our stay in Paris. Nope. Not even close. Nothing came within even a mile of the stress and anxiety I now know you feel when your team is appointed last to be judged at La Coupe Junior Des Pâtissiers [Junior Baker's Cup], a much smaller international competition for bakers hosted in Paris yet just as stressful for newbs as the bigger one held in Lyon every two years.

You would think passing first would have been much more nerve racking but I wholeheartedly disagreed. I would have given anything to be in team Germany's shoes right about now. They had been the first ones to finish, the first ones to be judged and were now the first ones chilling, having a glass of wine, watching the rest of us sweat and cry ourselves into panic attacks.

Last meant all eyes on us for the finale. It was also a bit disheartening having part of the audience leave because their team had passed already... But we pushed on, concentrating on our station, determination and resolution cursing through our veins, pushing us to complete our challenge with an entremet piece we'd be more than proud of presenting.

I had never been the sweaty type so I was astounded with the amount of deodorant I had reapplied during just the setup the day before. It was amplified today. The upside to this competition was the actual air pleasantly smelling of chocolate and caramelized sugar the entire time, which helped in the beginning but now was an accessory to the overwhelming sickness that was building in my stomach. Hugo, our team captain, was keeping it together like he had been doing this for years (which he had), and Laura, my baking school colleague turned teammate, was trying her best not to lose it. I admired her unrelenting hyperfocus.

I, on the other hand, was a mess and my team could tell. I was nevertheless still very happy Laura had chosen me for their team. She thankfully saw my potential and how I was the obvious choice for cake decor and sugar work for this type of competition despite knowing how freaked out I got when being observed. She knew this best from our baking days in class together when exam days were around the corner, but still put in a good word for me when I had applied at her family's bakery a year after graduation.

I might have been scared out of my mind but I sure as hell wasn't going to fuck up my appointed tasks and disapoint my team. My persistence had gotten me out of some more than stressful situations; I was going to thrive or die trying.

I obviously couldn't tell them what was actually making me strive for excellence, however nervous I was, and why I felt like the world would end if we messed up. If I messed up. But that motivation I kept to myself. I refused to share who I had spotted in the audience the moment we came into the venue and walked to our appointed station. I actively kept stopping myself from looking up too often, although I'm sure he had noticed... Why had I spotted him so easily? I wasn't even questioning myself anymore, it's like I could smell him, feel his eyes on me, like his mere presence made every one of my senses tingle, including a sixth one; the horny one. The one begging to be praised again after so long.

Now, daydreaming aside, with less than ten minutes on the clock and us being the last team to present and to close the event had me shitting myself. My heart had been racing since we walked into the stadium venue and hadn't stopped. We were all concentrating on our last few tasks. We were cutting it pretty close but we always managed to finish on time, no matter what the challenge.

"Allez, team, on finit ça!! Cinq minutes![C'mon team, let's finish this! Five minutes!]" yelled Hugo, clapping a second to give us that motivational boost, which I had to say wasn't pumping me up as much as getting me nauseous enough to vomit on my sugar molded crowns. I held it together, my fingers shaking as my hand applied the delicate pearls on every tip. As I attempted to place the second to last crown on the main entremet piece, my hand shook and cracked the delicate base of it, watching it fall to the ground, collapsing into a million pieces. I thought I'd pass out. Fuck!

"Julian! Aller, remplace-la, il t'en reste sur ta table, on se grouille![Julian! C'mon replace it, you've got more on your table. Let's go!]" Hugo snapped me out of it.

"C'mon Jules, we got this. Afterwards, we relax and indulge in all the French food you want!" laughed Laura, making me grin.

Between replacing the crown I had broken and picking up the micro shards that had fallen onto the piece with tweezers, my addicted brain wanted to spot him again, and this time I caught him looking directly at me. He looked worried. Is he worrying about me? My brain went offline for a second. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't think, period. His gorgeous face gazing at me threw me off, sending me straight back to my first semester in baking school, when I had observed the very first glimpse of him looking in my direction, meticulously watching while I struggled to finish an assignment...

Earlier on, I had nearly spilled the creme anglaise I was pouring into the ice cream machine on the floor from a very familiar grin appearing on those perfect lips of his, it didn't matter how far he was. Luckily, Hugo hadn't clocked my clumsy ass.

Now, my eyes flickered at him for another few seconds, precious seconds I was aware I was wasting ogling at the man. What was wrong with me? Get your fucking mind out of the gutter! Focus! He'd be ashamed of you! I kicked myself out of it and applied myself tenfold, reminding myself he was watching. My heart pumped for several reasons, but my drive was there and I wanted him to watch me succeed. I wanted him proud of me, however long it had been since we had last spoken.

We assembled every piece, and I actually gave myself an extra minute to redo two of the small salted caramel ice cream quenelles I thought weren't deemed worthy of the very top of our piece.

Finally, I delicately pushed the finished product onto the presentation zone as the timer buzzed us out. Everyone applauded.

"Bravo gang!" we heard a very loud and proud yell, making Laura and I narrow in on Olivier clapping the hardest.

"Julian, oh my god, look! Chef is here!"

"Yeah I saw! That is awesome!" I innocently replied, Awesome being the only word I could think of without deliberately stating I was on the verge of tears when I first spotted him hours ago. Knowing he was there, even if he hadn't come personally for us, nor just for me, was enough. The butterflies had pretty much hijacked my insides, doing nothing to help the nerves that had almost broken me as the clock ran out.

Finally able to look up and take my time, I smiled at him, wiping the sweat from my forehead, glad he wasn't so close he could hear my heart beating out of my ribcage. He applauded with the rest of the crowd as our piece was brought to the judging table. My breathing was still heavy but I could now... well breath. My team and I high fived, hugged and were able to take a sip of water and just sit for a moment, taking it all in. Hugo was in charge of presenting so we got a few minutes alone as he went and cut the cake properly for the judges, making sure all of our decorations would present perfectly onto the judging plates.

"We fucking did it, Jules," Laura breathed out, fist bumping me. I smiled, bumping back. All I could think of now though was Olivier. Not all the French food I could eat. Not water, not winning, not breathing. Just him, however pitiful that sounded.

There was no denying he had been on my mind since I accepted the trip to France. Given the fact that he never reached out, made me realize the time we spent together may not have been as important to him as it had been to me. That hurt for a while. But still, you never forget your first time. Your bisexual awakening. Especially not with a man like Olivier.

So did I accept to be a part of this competition with the secret hope I'd get to maybe, perhaps see him, if only as a fellow pastry colleague? The simple answer was yes and the second I was able to decipher him through the crowd hours earlier, my anticipation to be face to face with him afterwards was what my mind was focused on the entire time.

At this point, I didn't care to win. We had made it this far and I never thought I'd be saying this only three years after graduating, but we had made it to the finals of a baking competition in Paris. That was a win in my book. I was just glad I hadn't been sick during the process, which was something I had bet money on. I guess I owed Quinn, my wife, twenty bucks.

Guzzling down more water, I looked up at the crowd again, hope and pride balled together only to have it replaced with a ball of malaise tearing at my gut when I couldn't spot him anymore. My heart sank. I was glad he had taken the time to come see us. But that couldn't have been it, though, right?

About an hour later, the results were in. My head still perked up at every man with a french accent who passed behind us (which was every few seconds), my eyes wandering everywhere except where I was supposed to be looking.

"En troisième place, avec leur délicieux chef d'oeuvres Lotus Noire, équipe USA formée par Hugo Fournier, Laura Richards et Julian Garcia! [In third place, with their delicious masterpiece Black Lotus, is Team USA, made up of Hugo Fournier, Laura Richards, and Julian Garcia!]" declared the announcer through his mic, inviting us on stage.

Laura jumped into my arms, then into Hugo's, prompting cheers from them both. We were all smiles and truth be told, third place for a team of novice bakers was more than gratifying! We made our way on stage and accepted our bronze trophy and plaques. Belgium came in second and Japan fetched the Gold. The crowd went wild one last time, photos were taken, hands were shook and it all finally slowly died down, earning us a bit of a breather.

Champagne was brought to us as we were clearing our station, putting our tools and accessories away, letting the employed helpers take care of the rest. We cheered and clung our plastic flutes together. I guzzled the thing down, begging for another to quench the gutted feeling I felt from being ghosted yet again.

"Mes chers étudiants,[My dear students,]" is what I heard behind me, making me regretfully choke on those bubbles. I turned to see Laura already hugging Olivier, his eyes looking at me. I coughed a bit and smiled back, feeling my face warm up, my heartrate starting up again.

"Chef! I didn't think I'd see you at all!" Laura cheered, hugging him a little too long for my taste... "You didn't come just to see us, did you?" Laura taunted, her stupid adorable lips curling in his direction as she offered him a glass of champagne, which he accepted.

"I come every year, but the second I saw your names, it was my duty to show up. I had no choice." He smiled, walking up to me. "You both made me very proud up there," he announced, coming in for a hug, which I absolutely accepted, despite it feeling completely different from what I had imagined. It was friendly. Even more so than Laura's. And that was it. Laura introduced him to Hugo, who then both shook hands and conversed in French for a moment.

"So who's idea was it to have dark chocolate be the main focus?" asked Olivier. I didn't want to say anything, I was still too stunned that he stood in front of me, asking what felt like silly, useless questions compared to the unanswered ones swirling around my brain, making me dizzy.

Laura was more than happy to yap away, explaining the intricacies of our prep and our chosen flavour profiles. "... Dry ice was my idea, but the rest was Julian! He convinced us to work out a mist that would compliment the ice cream and chocolate without damaging the coating. He's the one who chose lavender and honey."

"How very French of him," Oli grinned, looking at me. "J'suis content de voir que tu ne te doute plus, Julian,[I'm glad to see you don't second guess yourself anymore, Julian,]" he commended me. His velvety voice calling out my name made me scream internally.

"Ça m'arrive encore parfois, mais très rarement. J'ai appris à faire confiance à mon instinct, grâce aux encouragements d'un bon professeur,[It still happens from time to time, but rarely. I learned to trust my instincts, thanks to some great wisdom from a great teacher,]" I replied with unburdened confidence.

"Julian! Ton français... est impeccable...[You French... is impeccable...]" he exclaimed in disbelief, looking almost marvelled, even astonished, which meant he looked absolutely delicious. I kept it together.

"J'essai,[I try,]" I replied with a hint of shyness, even three years later, unwilling to dish that I had been taking lessons in the hopes of impressing him one day. I was jubilant, but remained as stoïc as I could.

"You guys have become quite remarkable. I couldn't be prouder to have been your teacher. Let me take you out. We have to celebrate, Parisian style!"

"And how's that?" asked Laura.

"Good food and good wine, of course," Olivier exclaimed, winking at her.

We were to meet him at Café Daguerre in the 14th arrondissement at 8 PM.

We got ready, I got extra ready despite the vibe I caught earlier. I made sure I looked sharp, dashing even. I needed him to look at me the way I had remembered all those years ago. Those green eyes just begging for me to kiss him, to touch him, to feel him close. My delusions were begging me to make it happen, do something. But our recent interaction had made me struggle to find the optimism in the situation.

I went with classic casual and a clean shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair gelled back a bit. I shaved and gave myself a little spritz of my new cologne. Mid October in Paris was particularly cold and gray so my burgundy bomber jacket had been a good idea to pack. I met up with Laura in the hallway, she too had decided to dress to impress. I wonder why. I smiled at her, hiding my annoyance. Olivier had even invited our extended team that worked the backend, making us a small group of nine people.

Olivier waited for us at the end of the restaurant. He was in the quieter corner, away from the populated outside terrace. His arms wide across a few chairs, he sipped on a glass of wine, comfortably sitting like he owned the place, welcoming us. I smiled at him and he smiled at all of us... I looked down, taking a seat. An uneasy feeling rose in me. A feeling I'd have to mask as friendliness and cute chit chat for an entire supper.

Bottles of wine were opened and shared, food was ordered and also shared. The meal was, as expected, phenomenal. I stayed mostly quiet while everyone else dished their thoughts about the whole competition, talking about excursions to Jouvernie or Versailles for our last days here.

I was nowhere to be found. I listened but wasn't really there. I stole glances at Olivier when he was looking at others, smiling, sharing stories and getting to know our little crew, including Hugo, who was also smitten with our teacher, as one should... The pinching in my gut continued.

"Congratulaitons are in order, Julian," Oli cheered in my direction, which had me lost. What had they just been talking about?

"You got married. Félicitations![Congratulations!]" He raised a glass and so did everyone else.

"Ah merci, merci, c'est gentil,[Oh thanks, thank you, it's very nice of you,]" I thanked, raising my own glass to him and smiling at everyone as we drank. He knew I had gotten married? Wait, is this why he's being so friendly and nothing else? Does he think I'm off limits?? My mind started to race for the hundredth time tonight. Was that it? I finished my drink and refilled my glass. Surely there'd be a way for me to inform him that my wife was more than okay with me being with other men... unless... perhaps he was the one who had someone now. I'm such a selfish greedy idiot... It was surely that. I stared at him. He was gorgeous, smart, talented, French, fantastic teacher and professional, a fabulous catch, why wouldn't he be taken? Had I just been that fun newb for him and it had been nothing but a one night I had misconstrued as something else? A pity fuck? It couldn't. Fuck, I hope it wasn't. My brain couldn't discern the problem, it just kept running troubleshooting scenarios of the situation, trying to find ways to get his attention but came up with nothing. The mixture of overthinking and alcohol had never been a good choice for Julian... The wine had me digging down a rabbit hole of anxiety and overreacting. Perhaps even projecting, but who knew for sure.

Dessert arrived and of course Laura had to mention the last time we were all together having dessert for our graduation dinner. I faked a laugh, more than remembering it. I was reliving it, especially the several hours that followed it... over.. And over... My dick was in a state of utter confusion under the table.

"T'inquiètes Julian, pas de stress si tu n'aimes pas les desserts ici,[Don't worry Julian, no stress if you don't like the desserts here,]" Oli playfully added to Laura's comment, looking straight at me, provocative smirk in check.

"Oh pas de dessert pour moi cette fois-çi, j'ai appris ma leçon,[Oh no desserts for me this time, I learned my lesson,]" I answered tipsily, which for Laura was probably a gracious and humbling apology. For me, to him, it was giving him a sign that I now knew better than thinking he'd remember how much of an effect he had on me that night. It was my resolve after my fifth glass of wine, as I watched him indulge in a crème caramel and sip his coffee.

Our little get together lasted until the restaurant was about to close, which was 2 AM, making us once again the last table standing. Olivier, being the French local and hospitable host he was, hailed down a few cabs for the group. There wasn't enough space for him and me, which meant I had to wait for another cab... with him...

"Don't worry guys, we'll catch another taxi. Allez, bonne nuit![Good night!]" reassured Olivier. He waved them off and waited with me. The thought of sharing a cab with him brought back bitter sweet memories... Was this just going to be weird silence and awkward head nods? Just politely staring at one another until we'd get off at our appointed destinations, shake hands and just disappear from each other's lives until the next competition he would or wouldn't attend?

No, thank you. Once the cabs were out of sight, I turned to Oli to wave and just inform him I'd be walking home, let the Fall breeze cool me off from this disappointing night. But then something stopped me. As I turned, Olivier stared at the moon piercing through the clouds. The road was deserted for a few moments. It was quiet... I took a deep breath. Why hadn't he said anything? Why wasn't he saying anything? Why hadn't he given me those eyes I longed for so much?

"I have to ask why." My voice didn't come out as confident as I wanted it to. At all. His eyes shifted from the sky to me. I gulped. His stern expression letting me continue.

"Maybe it didn't mean much to you all these years ago, but it did to me. And I really thought it did to you too..." I looked down for a second, trying to collect my thoughts that had been spread about in the pool of alcohol that hindered my mind.

"I thought maybe it's because I'm married now and you didn't want to overstep boundaries, or maybe you had someone else and that's understandable, I mean look at... you," I continued, daring to ogle at him as I spewed on, dishing it all out like some angsty teenager needing answers from any John Huges rom-com from the 80s. Just pick one.

I looked straight at him with all my desperation dripping out of my mouth, completely backfiring the cool calm and collected appeal I'd wanted to sell to him from the beginning.

"But I was at least expecting a nod, a wink, an acknowledgement that you were happy to see me. And I don't mean happy like when you saw Laura, but... something... else... and... and..."

And then I stopped, mid monologue and stared at him. His expression. My heart skipped a beat.

"And... You're smiling..." is what I observed. It wasn't even smiling as much as his lips receding, trying not to smile as much. Then for a split second of sobriety, it clicked.

"You... were waiting for them to leave... and I just made an ass of myself..."

"If you would have sat next to me during supper, which for some reason you didn't, I could have given you a much more obvious hint..."

God, I felt stupid.

His lips stretched wider as the realization sunk in. He walked a few steps forward, closing the gap between us. I looked up, slightly embarrassed, forgetting any and all angry thoughts when I caught a whiff of his cologne.

"And you hailed those small cabs on purpose..." I thought out loud, more subtleties of his devious plan coming together. He nodded.

He planned it. He wanted me alone... My heart had now resumed to its regular fast Oli pace and horny confusion. And choosing this Café, far away from our hotel, despite how good it was... There were so many other restaurants he could have taken us to... so why here?

"Café Daguerre?" I asked, as if my question made all the sense in the world. He didn't seem confused in the least. Holding my gaze, his head jerks upwards as if pointing. An oh so familiar and specific smirk took a hold of his lips. I was back in that cab three years ago...

"J'habites en haut,[I live upstairs,]" was his reply. I could literally feel my eyes water, but blinked the tears away as fast as I could... and then he cupped my face.

"And I would never have forgotten your first time... J'aurais honte de moi...[I'd be ashamed of myself...]" His smirk had mellowed out a tad, keeping the confession serious and honest, my heart tightening in the best way.

"You smell really good, Jules."

I was frozen. I gulped. Then all of a sudden, my confidence abruptly came back in the cockiest of ways, making a decision to not read the room in the slightest.

"Je goûte encore mieux,[I taste even better,]" my horny drunk self uttered, impressing myself, convinced I had caught him off guard with this out of the blue confidence.

"Je me souviens très bien...[Oh, I remember very well...]" he simply brushed into my ear, annihilating any form of confident comeback I had planned, rendering me speechless, as if it came so naturally to him. Well that backfired... My pants now felt tighter...

He then kissed me. My lips quivered for a second but I kissed back, eagerly. He broke it just to ask me something before he went back in, barely giving me time to answer, as if he didn't already know:

"Tu veux monter, Julian?[You wanna come up, Julian?]" he mirrored a shy familiar memory that resonated in my ears. My lips stayed glued to his as I moaned, my head nodding repeatedly.

I contemplated responding with the two words he had uttered to me that had changed the very course of that evening, and my sexual awakening forever, but I didn't. Instead, I grabbed his neck and lost myself in it. My lips slammed into his after so long, they planned on staying there. A small chuckle escaped him, probably from the boldness he was now discovering about me.

I didn't stop. I refused. I seeked out his tongue and ran laps around it, needing to hear his soft moans over and over. His taste was like overindulging in the sweetest dessert known to man and not caring about your health, physical or otherwise. My hands were around his waist in seconds, needing to feel him closer to my chest, which he perfectly complied to. To then just break the kiss again.

"Va falloir monter si tu en veux pl-[We're going to have to go up if you want mor-]" I cut him off.

"I wasn't done," I unintentionally growled in defiance, my hand grabbing a fist of his hair and kissing him deeper, my tongue now invading his mouth, deciding we both didn't need to breathe for a while. I felt his lips curl and bring his arms around me, pulling me closer. The fervor of my kissing brought out his familiar eager groans. I was now hard. Fully hard in the middle of the sidewalk. My own groans came out the second I felt his finger tips reaching for my crotch, palming it gently, massaging me into a feral state.

He dared part his lips from mine again but this time didn't say anything, he just took my hand and guided me to the door on the side of the building, climbing the wooden stairs quickly. We entered his apartment and as much as my heart melted in that moment from being in his home, his environment, his sanctum, he fully skipped the apartment tour and immediately walked to his bedroom, tossing his shirt to the floor.

And I was such a sucker for him. He had managed once again to make me feel the dizzying array of emotions going from intimidation, joy, sadness, insecurity, to then complete arousal and eagerness... and now complete and utter fearlessness just by revealing his skin to me. Despite feeling contradicting emotions for the entire night, all he had to do was lure me into his web and there I was, a willing and horny victim to his beautifully exposed body turning to me and smiling. Whipped. Plain and simple. I was so whipped for this man and I couldn't have been happier.

No words needed to be spoken as he sat on the edge of his bed, simply waiting for me to come to him, which I would obviously do. A half second later, my own shirt was off and I was already working on the belt of my pants, pulling it off and flinging it around my neck. His eyes on my every move got me even harder at the thought of presenting to him.

My crotch stopped at his eye level and I unzipped slowly, his gaze glued to me. Fuck, he's gorgeous... I wanted to see it. This vision I had been dreaming of for months... years...

I wanted him to be full with me. And I, full with him. We didn't need sleep... I was sure he'd also agree if asked. I grinned, pulling out my cock, arching my brow.

"I'm loving this audacity of yours, Julian," he purred, reaching slowly for the base and squeezing as I felt the tip of his tongue play with my head. Instant moan. Breathful, longing moan.

"Tout le monde y gagne, pas vrai?[Everyone wins, right?]" I got cocky, grinning as I flung my belt around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, his mouth now taking me in more than halfway. "Allez, suçe.[Go on. Suck.]" I dared to tell him, almost losing it, but hearing that gasp leave his lips as he eagerly took more was more than enough to push me to continue. The "putain[fuck]" he uttered as he pulled out for a second confirmed his firm arousal of my newfound confidence. An ex-student bossing his teacher; who knew I had the balls for that.

I guess years of edging and a night of flipped expectations will do that to an utterly horny bisexual man facing his wet dream of a French baking teacher again.

I threw my head back, groaning as I felt his tongue reaching my balls with ease.

"Fuck... Just like that..."

I was eager as well, pulling him deeper with my belt, feeling his throat gag around my dick, causing sudden shivers to spread for my base to the rest of my body. I had never felt him gag on me before and fuck was it satisfying. He was a pro and did not seem to mind in the least and so I continued thrusting forward, challenging him to take all of me with every thrust.

"You okay, Teach?" God, the cocky things spewing out of this horny mouth tonight was unreal and I couldn't get enough of it. Neither could he, I presumed, when I felt his hands grip my ass and pull me into him, feeling his nose graze my pubes, rendering me completely helpless to his mouth and tongue...

"Jesus Christ," I moaned out. As much as I was trying to be evil and dominant, he still very comfortably had a hold on me and he knew it, which is why this little power play was so much fun.

I finally gave him a break. I could actually feel the extra saliva pooling and dripping on my balls, a long strand connecting my tip to his lips had me weak in the knees as he looked at me.

"This is not your second time with a man..." His tongue flicked at the saliva thread and wrapped his warm mouth back around the tip to suckle whatever was dripping and I was ready to die a happy man.

"Perspicase,[Perceptive,]" I answered with notes of sarcasm, proud, cupping his cheek, leaning in for a kiss, his lips wet with precum.

"Your wife has been keeping you busy, has she?"

I laughed at that. Of course, he remembered her.

"Yes. It's been quite the year... beaucoup de nouvelles experiences... [Lots of new experiences...]" I smiled at him and myself, flashes of the past year and the multiple people my wife and I had the pleasure of hosting in our bed sprung to mind.

"I guess I have you to thank for that in a way," I admitted, our night being the one that ignited a spark in me, and a horny spark in my relationship with Quinn. "You were ground zero for all of it."

"Alors j'ai droit à une récompense. [I should get a reward, then.]" Those piercing eyes gazed into mine, tauntingly. I was ever so tempted to push my dick back into his mouth as reward, but I yielded and got on my knees, undoing his pants.

His size, his smell, it hit me like I had him in my mouth yesterday. My hands caressed the sides of his thighs as I explored, wrapping my lips around his thickness and feeling every inch invade my mouth. It had me moaning within the first thrust. My default pleasing side came right back, having the cocky dominant Julian take a backseat as I choked on this perfect man's dick with pleasure and intent, every stroke received with hummed approval. It was music to my ears. He didn't need to guide me anymore, I was much more comfortable pulling beautiful sounds from his throat now. His hand still petted my head, the light french cussing under his breath fueling this fire I had to keep going, gagging in the process and delighting in every single one.

He then took the belt he still had resting around his shoulders and decided it'd look good on my neck as well. Only he wrapped it around me, like a leash... I looked at him with such an 'I'm so fucked' expression, I think I spotted a bit of mercy on his face right before it was replaced with depraved arousal.

"Oh que ca te va bien, mon beau, [Oh that suits you so well, cutie,]" He tightened it a bit, jerking me forward, and locked it in place. I was on my knees, dick out, shirtless and vulnerable; a leash connecting my neck, my obedience wrapped around his fist. I gulped. My breathing got heavier for some reason. He then pulled me closer, feeling his breath on the shell of my ear.

"Les choses dont j'avais envie de te faire cette nuit là, Julian...[The things I wanted to do to you that night, Julian...]" he trailed off, releasing a frail whimper from my throat. My breathing accelerated. I knew he was playing it safe for my sake the first time. I appreciated it greatly. He wanted to take his time, make me comfortable and he had been more than perfect.

That sentence I was too shy to utter that first time, now came out as easily as breath:

"Par pitié, fais ce que tu veux de moi, Olivier...[I'm begging you, do what you want with me, Olivier...]" I breathed out, kissing his neck, down his collarbone before taking him back into my mouth and sucking like I never thought I could. I relished every groan.

"Dans ce cas, met la bien profonde,[In that case, take it deeper,]" he growled as he made his full length fit into me, hitting the back. I opened my throat just in time, and was able to squeeze around him. And didn't stop. I gagged on it and embraced every second, welcoming the drool spewing from the corners of my mouth. This was better than any other trophy I had received today. He pushed his hand onto the back of my head, unrelenting, as if knowing I could take it, which I barely could, but adored that he had that much faith in me. Breathing was second to hearing him cuss over and over as my tongue worked around his stiff cock.

"Putain de merde, arrête pas,[fucking hell, don't stop,]" he ordered, hearing his uneven breathing take a toll, giving me a whole new scope for the words "teacher's pet" as he yanked harder on my leash. I moaned deep and went on, making him lose it. My ass was pulsating at the thought of having this fuck me later.

Then I tasted his precum... robust, salty, addicting.. I was finally getting to taste him and it got my primal urges going. I suckled every drop of him before I took him out of my mouth, finally giving myself a few breaths. He looked down with, to my pleasure, a dazed look of confusion.

"Quatres pattes, Olivier... s'il-te-plaît...[All fours, Olivier... please...]" I asked with polite sarcasm. His wide eyes were so incredibly worth it.

"The student has become the teacher, I see..." he bit his lip as he obeyed my request, stretching to his nightstand for condoms.

"De plus d'une façon...[In more ways than one...]" I replied with a wicked grin, grabbing his hips and playfully pressing my painfully hard cock forward a bit, teasing his entrance. This feeling was quite new and quite awaited for me... Looking down, seeing Olivier look back at me, ready to yield this time, had my dick twitching between his cheeks. Looking to the side, I spotted a standing mirror, which caught me off guard. The spectacular view had me swallowing hard. Olivier, seeing my distracted face, looked at me through the mirror, narrowing his gaze.

"T'aime la vue, mon grand?[Enjoying the view, handsome?]"

"Fuck yes, I am," I quickly breathed out, urgently soaking my fingers into my mouth and pressing one, then two into his ass, fingering him gently, watching my movement contort his beautiful angelic reflection. He squinted his eyes shut, moaning so quietly as if not wanting to be so loud. I wouldn't have it. I reached further, curving my fingers, and there went his eyes, widening and his lips parting, letting out those whimpers I deserved to hear.

"Bordel que t'es beau,[Fuck, you're beautiful,]" I growled as I persistently fingered him until I felt he was ready for me. Pressing on his prostate, he instinctively arched his back. It was glorious. My ego was exactly where it needed to be at that moment; on top. My fingers dug into his skin with blind passion. I ached to feel every inch of him as I hoped he ached for every one of mine. The non verbal praise was now killing me more than his spoken compliments.

Once that condom was on, I pushed in, feeling his muscles contract around my cock, pulling yet more desperate moans out of me, and in all fairness him as well. He felt so fucking good. I eased it in and worked it up to my base. He squeezed away and was pulling all kinds of sounds out of me as I started thrusting. I moved slowly, pacing myself ever so gently, taking it all in... as he did. His ass in my hands felt so natural for something I had only but fantasized about. My hands wandered to his back, gripping his soft skin, grabbing his hips, making up for lost time.

"Allez, Julian, plus fort,[C'mon Julian, harder,]" he moaned out, sending chills up my spine. I obliged but wanted to take my time. I hurried the pace a bit more, but not to the levels he wanted quite yet.

"You can do better than that, cutie," he then smugly spat at me, as if judging me for taking my time. I smiled and pulled his hair a little.

"Dis-moi, c'est qui qui top, là?[Tell me, who's topping who right now, huh?]" I asked, bashful dominance in my tone. I could see his grin through the mirror and his hand slowly moving backwards, grabbing the belt I forgot was around my neck. He yanked me down onto his back, making me grunt.

"On dirait que c'est moi. [Looks like I am.]"

My grin was wide, more than loving this power banter we had going on. I pushed his face into the pillow and grinded into him harder, a loud moan escaping his mouth.

"Ah ouais? T'es sûr? [Oh yeah? You sure about that?]" I taunted ever so cockily as I now pounded into him, his moans louder and more eager. His ass pushed back as I slammed into him vigorously. I marveled at the sight of his fingers digging into his sheets, grabbing on to dear life; it had me ascending. I thrusted harder, deeper, his vocals got louder. I absolutely needed to hear more of them, fucking christ.

"Fils de pute! [Son of a bitch!]" I managed to hear through his muffled mouth. It wasn't angry as it was desperate, pleading, my brain going absolutely feral for what my body was doing to him.

"Continue de gémir comme ça pour moi, Oli, [Keep moaning for me like that, Oli,]" I growled as I leaned in, pushing myself to the very end, hearing his voice crack from the pleasure.

That was the first time I called him Oli. It felt odd and yet not at all. A tightness in my chest surprised even me yet I wanted to continue doing it. If what we were doing was intimate, calling him Oli did something to me. I think he took my slowing down as an invitation to flip the script yet again, leaning forward, making me slip out and tumble onto him.

He turned, his smile wild and face sweaty, his hair raggedy from being pushed into the pillow and he grabbed my face to kiss it. He... he was loving this... He didn't mind the nickname, he encouraged my braveness in taking charge and letting him temporarily give up control... This feeling was... so intimate. It was too much. It caused my eyes to water for the second time tonight because of him. And he noticed. Fuck.

"Julian, are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, sorry," I caught myself, maintaining my composure despite some tears escaping and rolling onto my cheek. He wiped one with his thumb.

"What happened?," his eyes read worry. I didn't want him to worry. I especially didn't want him to freak out about how emotional I just got... How unsexy was this?

"I... just get emotional sometimes... when things get overwhelming."

His calm smile came back and he kissed me again, passionately, deeply, I felt he wanted to send a message. A message only he could do like this.

"T'es adorable, tu sais?[You're adorable, you know that?]" he whispered as his lips parted from mine. Now I felt embarrassed he was now seeing me as cute and not at all dominant anymore.

"Shut up!... You're... adorable," I tried to spit back with the fierceness of a cub, grabbing his neck. I was still horny as fuck and was begging whoever or whatever was up there that he hadn't just been repulsed by my little freak out. He had been ready to take over, so I let him.

"Baise moi, Oli, j'ten prie,[Fuck me, Oli, I'm begging you,]" I pleaded, my words leaving my mouth with as much conviction as humanly possible. He bit his lip, tracing his fingers from my face to my neck, my torso, giving my skin chills.

"J'y vais doucement? [I should go gently, yeah?]" he asked, making sure he wasn't going to make me break down again. I shook my head resolutely. This time, my smile turned into a grin, my eyes narrowing.

"Non. Fais ce que tu voulais me faire cette nuit-là, [No. Do what you wanted to do to me that night,]," I ordered, commanded, begged.

He grinned, his hand had found the belt again and tugged it forward, making my lips crash onto his, his tongue invading my mouth, owning it, and me complying to every move he was making and was about to make. He flipped me and ordered me flat on my stomach, facing the mirror. I looked at him through the glass and he couldn't have been any hotter... He was still fully erect, even after all this.

He rolled his condom on and then bent over, disappearing behind me. I suddenly felt his tongue ram into my ass, which clenched immediately, only to relax seconds later, begging for more. The moan I let out was not only surprising but a mix of that and absolute docility and obedience, my aching hardon was pressing and chafing between my stomach and the sheets. I could see his head bobbing up and down as his tongue comfortably fucked my ass, feeling myself gape a little each time. It was euphoric. Torture because I couldn't reach my own dick, but oh so euphoric.

I then felt a finger slip in, expertly guiding himself to my weakest spots and pressing gently, repeatedly, opening me up, taking responsibility for my heavier breathing and longer whines.

He then resurfaced and tugged at my leash, making me arch my back. My dick rubbing against the sheet had me gasping.

"Regardes-toi, Julian...[Look at yourself, Julian...]" he instructed. I looked forward at myself and then him, who was inches from my ear, breathing in anticipation.

He rammed into me, my breathing hitching. I gasped as I felt him push through, hard and firm, yet did not stop him. I had never seen this side of Oli... He still had a tight grip on my leash and fucked me hard, his pelvis bouncing on my ass like he was born to do so. My moans weren't enough and were replaced with squeals and whimpers. I tried to retain some of my dignity but feeling it slip away because of Oli felt like privilege.

"Allez, regardes-toi Julian, pendant que ton mentor te défonce.[Look at yourself, Julian... As your mentor fucks the ever living shit out of you.]"

Utter blissfilled privilege... Jesus christ, he was also using his status to drill yet another horny hole inside my brain, like my brain wasn't looking like a swiss cheese already.

"Fuck!!" I moaned out repeatedly while I felt every inch of him almost making its way to my goddamn throat.

"C'est trop bon,[Feels so fucking good,]" he growled out. "T'aimes te faire défoncer, mon beau?[You like being fucked hard like this, handsome?]" he asked, his eyes zeroing in on me, his hand pulling my hips into him.

"Ouiii, Oli arrête pas, j'ten prie,[Yesss, Oli don't stop, please,]" I pleaded, taking back my role of sheet gripper. And on he went, thrusting like his life and mine depended on it. I was so close to coming, my precum soaked his sheets.

"Supplie-moi,[Beg me,]" his authoritative voice from class rang out in his room. I obeyed like it was my life's purpose.

"Pitié, Oli, baise moi, use de moi, putain! Fuck, please![Please Oli, I'm begging you! Fuck me! Use me!" I begged like the horny little boy I was under him, relishing every thrust he sent my way.

"Hmmm you're sexy when you beg, Jules."

"Thank you... sir..." I cried out, looking into the mirror, watching his face beam with satisfaction. His praise could have made me do anything at that moment. I missed it so badly... I was unhinged for that expression of his shining on his face. Although my little dom side had been just as fun...

"J'veux te voir faire le beau pour moi. Tourne toi,[I want you to put on a show for me. Turn around,]" he directed. I took a second to come to and turn but he yanked on my belt. "Aller, on ouvre.[C'mon, open up.]" I did, sticking my tongue out, listening to his every word. He pulled off the condom and rested his cock on my tongue, making me feel the weight of it...

I was in heaven again.

"I didn't think you could get any hotter, Julian. Putain, [Fuck,]..."

He pushed his dick slowly into my mouth and let me do the rest. My tongue was finally able to taste him properly... his skin, his heat, his precum... I took my sweet time and he let me. Long lingering licks, slow sucking movements, pacing my breathing, keeping myself under a certain control. I could have stayed there forever. I loved the way he tasted. I almost wanted him to cum right away so I could fill my mouth as soon as possible.

I grabbed the base and made it harder in my mouth, my tongue remembering every vein outline like a goddamn cartographer... I stroked myself slowly as I continued on him. I looked up, eyes pleading and wanting, when I noticed he was looking at the mirror. He was staring at my spread cheeks... He looked at me with an almost evil smile.

"Écartes tes jambes.[Spread your legs.]" I did and took his dick even deeper and gagged on it before allowing myself a small pause. I looked up at him again.

"J'savais pas t'étais pervers comme ca...[I didn't know you were that much of a pervert...]" I threw at him, lightly swaying my hips as I saw his eyes glued on my gaped ass winking at him.

"Tu n'étais pas le seul à te faire des scénarios en classe, mon grand...[You weren't the only one fantasizing in class, handsome...]" He simply breathed out, eyes still on the mirror, licking his bottom lip.

I gulped. Wh... at...

"Pas très professionnelle de ma part mais... J'avais une envie folle de te donner des mauvaises notes juste pour te garder après cours pour voir ce que tu ferais pour moi... un vrai porno, du coup,[Not very professional coming from me, I guess... but I had this crazy urge to give you bad grades just so I can keep you after class and see what you'd do for me. Classic porn scene,]" he chuckled lightly. I stared at him, a smile curling on my lips.

"T'aurais dû...[You should have...]"

He looked down and smiled. I felt he knew I wasn't kidding and chose to laugh it off. To brush off the yearning of a student to fail his class just so he could fuck teacher. I then felt his hands behind my head and his motion pushing his dick right back in, acknowledging my similar levels of perversions. Shutting me up with his cock seemed like the right way to go about it and he was correct. I kept sucking. With pleasure.

His first spasm came soon after, feeling his body tensing more and more. There it was. Oli was finally ready to explode into my mouth.

"Putain, Julian...[Fuck, Julian...]" He just stared, eyes half lidded, drunk, perhaps unbelieving his old student had learned so much since we had last been in similar positions. "That's it... look at me..."

I took him out and with all the saliva coating his beautiful penis, I jerked it off relentlessly, seeing his expression turn from feeling on top of things to one of pure, ecstatic agony... he was so close... I wanted him to see God so I retook a bit of that dominance from before, if only for this singular moment.

"Allez, viens pour moi, Oli,[C'mon, come for me Oli,]" I ordered as I dove back in, sucking the very life out of him, feeling him jet out onto my tongue and hit the back of my throat, followed by the sexiest, most vulnerable moaning and panting. I could feel his hands shake on my head, pressing a bit, before letting go, his arms dangling to his sides, exhausted.

I couldn't get enough of how much he came. I swallowed once, twice, three times. I got everything. Satiated and satisfied. I wasted nothing of him and looked up to see that long awaited blissfully voided face, complete with slack jaw and glazed eyes. I licked my lips and came to his level, kissing him while in his dazed and confused state. I captured the remainders of his moans in my mouth and he collapsed on his bed, his chest heaving, his lips parted. I laid down next to him and observed the remnants of my work, like a painter taking a few steps back to admire a job well done.

I gave him a few moments, standing for a moment to get us water, and once out of his coma, we started up our little power battle for another few rounds. After both coming again, we agreed to call it a night. We passed out in each other's arms. I had never rested on his chest before. His heartbeat, once back to normal felt so peaceful, it lulled me to sleep.

The sun slowly creeping through the blinds is what woke me up. My eyes took their lovely time wincing open, completely confused as to where I was for a second. Unfamiliar environment, unfamiliar walls, furniture... Then I felt him. Then remembered. My head turned and my eyes fell on the most beautiful man sleeping next to me without a care in the world, his breathing low, steady, quiet... The light hitting his back had me snuggling back up to him within seconds. My mouth found its way to his shoulder, kissing him, feeling the light peach fuzz of his skin grazing my lips.

His sleepy grip tightened a bit around my arm, only to realize I was the bigger spoon. My body melted a little as I felt his body lean more into mine, his ass pressing softly on my morning wood.

I had the urge to get dressed and go downstairs to get us some breakfast and coffee but something held me in place. Not just his sleepy grip on me, but this, here... wanting to spend every second like this until my flight back felt like top priority... My breakfast idea was such a distant, unimportant thing compared to this, I ignored my stomach, and nuzzled back into him. He eventually opened his gorgeous eyes and smiled sleepily at me.

"Tu me regardes dormir?[You're watching me sleep?]"

I avoided the question and just smiled, admiring the tiniest shifts of his face, his dimples as he smiled, his blinks helping him wake up and eventually a yawn, making him stretch a bit.

"You know... if you're sick of delicious food and wine, sexy European people, disgusting gray Paris weather... you know, yuk... Quinn and I are moving into a new house in a few months... Two extra rooms... and a backyard with a pool..." My silly offer and gaze lingered, making him smile and cup my face.

"Toujours aussi craquant, toi,[Still just as adorable,]" he whispered, just staring into my eyes.

"Et ta femme dans tout ca?[And your wife in all of this?]"

"Wanna call her? Pretty sure she'd be okay with it."

"I'm not even surprised to hear that," he giggled. "I'm sure we'd get along..." those last words had my ears perk up, as if knowing there'd be a follow up... "Have you ever... pictured your wife and I together?" he asked innocently, making my cheeks warm. "Like... maybe sucking you off together?"

"Me? No! Not really... Hmm nope. Never, actually. Nah."

"Dans ta tête, j'suis de quel bord?[In your daydream, which side am I on?]"

"À gauche,[On the left,]" I answered with no hesitation. We both cracked a chuckle.

"Noté,[Noted,]" he smiled and kissed me, pulling me out of bed.

"On va où? [Where are we going?]"

"J'ai envie qu'on se savonne, et qu'on se baise dans la douche. Objections? [I want us to soap each other, then fuck each other in the shower. Objections?]"

"Non, m'sieur...[No, sir...]"

He bit his lip and stood from bed, but I grabbed his hand.

"Attends. Donne-moi ton téléphone,[Wait. Give me your phone,]" I ordered, expression serious, as if remembering the most important thing in the world. As if suddenly getting it too, he smiled, grabbed it from his nightstand, unlocked it and gave it to me. I looked at him before adding myself to his contacts and giving him back his device.

"No excuses, now. Tu m'appelles.. Pas si mais quand tu visites...[You call me. Not IF but WHEN you visit...]"

He smiled, pulled me up, and gently grabbed my chin, kissing me.

"Promis. [Promise.]"

"And do NOT make it another three years. Je sais où tu habites,[I know where you live,]" I joked, but not really. It still made him laugh. He grabbed my face and kissed me again, dragging me to the bathroom.

"Quinn; elle préfère des fleurs ou du vin?" he bit his lip, as if up to no good. I absolutely adored where he was going with it.

"Comme nous, elle a la dent sucrée...[Like us, she kind of has a sweet tooth...]"

His complicit smile grew. It was infectious. I knew she'd love him too.