Info - smoking, some smut, praise kink, sadness/loneliness, one night stand
It had rained every day I'd been in Paris. I suppose in the movies, that would be romantic or beautiful, or maybe it would be meant to symbolise something. In real life I'd been forced to forgo all the outdoor activities I'd had planned for my Paris trip.
Since I wasn't getting as much exercise as I wanted, and I was in a new place, I was finding it difficult to sleep. I found out on my second day that it didn't seem to rain in the night. This was why I had taken up nightly walks.
Everything was shiny with the precipitation from the day. Lights of red and white reflected beautifully in puddles. I would sometimes read on a bench by the Eiffel tower. I loved the city at night.
Every night I had seen a similar sight. A gorgeous boy with tousled hair and a leather jacket. He had bouncy brown curls, and magnetic green eyes. I usually didn't like holding someone's gaze, but for some reason I held his. He always stared at me like I had an answer that he was looking for. I didn't know what to do. He never said anything. He just looked at me.
This was the fifth day of vacation and the lack of sleep was starting to get to me. I wished I could just relax. I felt like a creature more than a human as I dragged myself through the streets. I was excited to plop down on my bench, but someone was there.
The boy was there. He had been smoking every other time I had seen him. Now, he was crying and scrubbing at his eyes. I didn't know what to do. I just sat down next to him.
"What's your name?" I asked softly.
"Timothée," he wept.
"I'm y/n," I said.
"I guess I'm in your seat," he sniffled.
"It's okay, you seem to be having a hard time," I said lightly.
"I'll fucking say," he said, pulling out a cigarette shakily. He lit up and I could see how he relaxed a bit.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
"About what?"
"Whatever it is that is bothering you," I said, using my hands to gesture vaguely.
"Why do you care?" He asked. He didn't say it rudely, he just said it.
"I don't know actually, but there's something about you. It hurts my heart to see you cry," I told him. I put my hand on his thigh. He sniffed and blinked a couple of times.
"Well, no matter how hard I try, I can't get a role," he began.
He began his tale of woe. He told me how badly he wanted to be an actor. He lived for the art form. He had only gotten a few theatre things, and nothing that seemed to have the impact he desired. He said he'd come to Paris on a whim when he heard about a role that would be perfect for him. He had heard today that he hadn't been chosen.
I ended up holding his hand and staring in his eyes as he cried. He seemed so sincere and real. I had admittedly thought it was a bit silly to cry over a role, but I saw now that this man was all heart. He felt everything intensely. He felt a deep calling to act.
"Timothée, you'll find a perfect part. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you will," I promised him. I had never believed something so much. He smiled at me and nudged my shoulder his head. He was like a sweet foal.
When his head lifted off my shoulder our eyes met again. His lips were pink and looked soft and gentle. I leaned in and we were kissing. We were devouring one another, deep moans being pulled from our mouths. Our hands were all over one another. We touched and touched and I felt my heart beat quicken.
"I want you," he admitted and I wanted him too.
I didn't remember how we managed to get back to my place. The taxi ride was a blur of lips and skin. Now he was naked and his beautiful body was over me. He made such delicious noises as he bottomed out.
He wore his heart on his sleeve and his pleasure on his face. I'd never seen a man make such erotic faces of pleasure. He just kept praising me and saying how desperately good I felt.
"You're so wet, your body is a masterpiece, fuck it feels good y/n," he moaned over and over. I was clinging to him, our bodies moving together. We melded together like we were made for one another. I was gasping and sweating and kissing and kissing him.
"You're amazing, you feel so good," I told him. A smile lit up his face. I was promising him that he felt good, that he was good. I believed it too. I knew he was so good and I was so lucky to have him.
"One day," I whispered to him as I held him afterward.
"You'll be a super star actor and I'll get to tell my friends we met in Paris once and had mind blowing sex," I said, and I played with his curls.
"Yeah right," he chuckled as he buried his face deeper between my breasts.
"It'll happen," I assured him, but now I realised that I was sleepy. With this lonely Paris boy in my arms I finally achieved sleep. I was at peace.
