La Saint Valentin

Sweat and Sugar

🚧SMUT ZONE.🚧
Please proceed to the 🍼SAFE ZONE👶🏻 if sex is not your cup of tea. ☕️☕️

Francis watched Arthur move around the table, dishing out eggs and bacon and fresh bread; eyed him as he crossed the space to fetch the butter and a knife. He was beyond grateful for his presence. It still didn't feel real, having the Brit here upon his own volition. The way those emerald eyes avoided him was sweet in a way someone who didn't know the man would not understand. Arthur didn't want to ask for help, but he'd need it come time for tea.
    As he was transferring the food onto real plates like the classy gentlemen he was he somehow managed to knock the sugar dish from the table. "Bullocks." He hissed his brows knitting together as he scowled.
    Francis went to help with clean up but when he tried to collect the toppled container Arthur swatted him away. "I can bloody do it." He snapped, "Go change your clothes."
    He understood then. He must be cutting quite the angelic figure dressed in his loose white tee and spandex workout bottoms. "Why, mon amour?"
    "It's bloody distracting."
    "Onhonhon~" So, he'd been correct. " If you blush for much longer you may swoon."
     "I'm only here for breakfast."
And he fully intended to partake, but not before he satisfied another hunger. "Don't fuss." He murmured, leaning across the mess and capturing his timid lover's mouth. As always Arthur struggled, but only for a moment. When the tension left him, Francis knew it as safe for his tongue to slip inside.
    With no regard for the spilt sweetener, he straddled the squirming warlock's waist, and snogged the brat until he was a half-gasping against his mouth before breaking away smiling.
    "Prat!" Arthur panted, pushing half-heartedly at his chest.  "Bugger off!
    "Détendez-vous." He whispered, lowering his mouth to the Brit's tender neck, he tongued his pulse and nibbled gently as his long fingers made quick work of Arthur's buttons. "Laisse moi, angleterre."
"Francis."
     It sounded like a warning but he knew it was a demand. Arthur, he'd come to find, was a bit of a masochist. He didn't like to wait, he wanted to be taken roughly, foreplay be damned. However, Francis personally loved the pleading and the gruff voice in which the man growled his name. "Be patient." He breathed against his skin, opening his shirt and lowering his hot mouth over one of the other man's nipples.
Arthur became pliant at the contact, his back arching and his hips grinding against Francis' ass. The Frenchman continued to tease, his already tight pants becoming intolerable. He felt the front of Arthur's growing taut as well. It wasn't long before the Brit was reaching for his fly.
But Francis wasn't quite done tormenting him. "Facile, cherié." He soothed, capturing the Englishman's hand in his own and pinning it above his head, their fingers laced.
"Bloody- wanker..." Was the younger man's shaky response. "Stop playing around."
But this was what he loved most. He loved seeing Arthur raw and vulnerable. During sex was one of the rare occasions that he got to see the emotions unhindered on his lover's face and he'd be an idiot not to take advantage of such a thing. It was a gift he'd not expected to be granted and he was thankful for every second.
       Unfortunately, his body was not as sentimental as his heart. Soon enough even his ocean-deep well of patience was no match for his animalistic desires. Arthur was red-face and mindlessly grinding against him and he could no longer bear the prison of his pants. He leaned up and Arthur shucked them downward without urging. "Bon garçon."
      "Just- shut up." The Brit snarled, yanking free of his own trousers. "Baise-moi."
      "Onhonhon~ And everyone zinks I'm ze pervert." He snickered, wrapping pale fingers around both of their cocks and stroking them together before his lover turned monstrous.
      Arthur began to pant and groan and Francis did the same, his entire soul warming with affection as his lover reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck, hands tangling in his hair. He loved it. He loved every moment of this closeness, this intimacy. If he died tomorrow he could go happily and without regret. "Je'taime." He huffed, sliding his free hand down his partner's thigh.
       The other man moaned in anticipation and Francis needed no further urging. Just rough enough to sate Arthur's issues, he slid a finger inside of him, working it until another could easily join in. By the time three would fit the Englishmen had nearly come undone, writhing and gasping and uttering lewd things- some of which were even new to Francis.
      It only added to the need between them and he quickly pulled Arthur's hip upward and entered him with a half-swallowed grunt. Arthur shielded his face with one of his forearms and began to pump his own erection as Francis began to thrust rhythmically.
      "Francis." The Brit groaned, chest heaving as he came, spilling across his own chest.
      The sight sent him over and beyond the edge of bliss and he too orgasmed, filling his partner to bursting. "Oh la la." He chuckled as the aftershocks rattled through their limbs. "Next time- you can do me, oui?"
      Arthur closed his eyes. "Oui, bebé."
      "Good!" Francis slapped the man's quivering rump and pulled out, earning him that emerald glower he so cherished . "Now zen, let's eat."
      "Bloody git." The Brit murmured, saved from the post-sex stupor he usually fell into.
       "Onhonhon~ what happened to bebé?"

🍼SAFE ZONE👶🏻

    Hi. Please see the next chapter for fluff. I'd apologize for being a total pervert, but I'm not sorry. Onhonhon~