29. Cinn
twenty-nine
Cinn
J ulien, Julien, Julien.
Cinn’s brain had been well and truly broken by the princeling, because he couldn’t get him out of his goddamn mind.
From the moment the taxi dropped them off at the airport, Cinn became engulfed by his all-consuming desire for him. As if Julien’s gravitational pull had been magnified, and Cinn had to be constantly near him, preferably touching in some small way.
When Julien returned from the airport shop with a packet of batteries for Cinn’s Walkman and those mints that he loved, he had to restrain himself from climbing on top of him.
He was significantly less restrained on the flight, however—the instant Elliot predictably fell asleep twenty minutes into it, Cinn burrowed his head into Julien’s chest, tracing patterns on his knee with his finger.
The view out the window offered only the black expanse of the ocean. How long would it be until he flew back over it again? He’d made Tyler no promises earlier that morning, despite Tyler’s heart-wrenching comments about how much he missed him. Needed him there in London, in fact. At least Tyler was eager to visit Cinn in Switzerland, if he could sort his passport out. Tyler was far less enthusiastic about spending more time with Elliot and Julien, and had some rather choice words about the latter man. Cinn’s outright and unwavering defence of Julien—who’d been instrumental in saving Tyler’s ass, he’d reminded him several times—only seemed to exasperate Tyler’s dislike of him .
Cinn sighed, and Julien’s arm wrapped tighter around his chest.
“Your fear of flying seems to have lessened, somewhat at least,” Julien murmured into his ear.
“It’s helping that I have other things to focus on.” Cinn dragged his fingers up Julien’s thigh.
“Well, if it’s distraction you’re after….” Julien tugged Cinn’s beanie slightly off his head to expose his ear, ghosting over it with his teeth.
A low groan threatened to escape him. “You’ll get us in trouble.”
“Well, there’s always the mile-high club.”
Cinn snorted. “I can’t imagine you tolerating an aeroplane bathroom even for a piss, let alone getting buck naked in there.”
“Touché.” Julien’s body shook with laughter, and Cinn smiled.
The rest of the short flight to Zurich vanished like a breath of wind, carrying them to their destination.
Deboarding. Passport Control. Transfer bus.
Before he knew it, the three of them were marching up and down the parking lot, trying to remember where they’d left Maz.
Cinn had never been so glad to see her shiny black bonnet.
Elliot slid into the back before Cinn could offer the passenger seat. “The deal is that I can pass on any radio station you choose,” he announced gruffly, once they were all seated. Cinn found a station playing British hits from the seventies, which seemed to appease the masses.
Once they were on the long road home, the glances between him and Julien began, subtle yet charged. They started small—a quick flick of the head, an almost imperceptible turn of the eyes. As the road stretched out before them, the stolen glances grew bolder, lingering a moment too long, weaving a heated thread of connection that tightened with every passing mile.
Instinctively, Cinn knew without question that Julien was counting down the seconds until Elliot left the car with the same frantic desperation he was .
By the time they’d reached his house, Elliot had also sensed the increasingly rising tension. “Have a nice evening,” he muttered with an edge of amusement to his tone, before sliding out of Maz. “I’ll ring Darcy and check on her, as I have a feeling you’ll be too busy.” Then he paused, hand on the door, to curiously state, “Julien, don’t forget about what I said earlier.”
Cinn glanced at Julien for any clue, but Julien only nodded as the door slammed shut, then he zoomed Maz away so fast that Elliot became a speck in the rear-view mirror before he’d reached his front door.
Julien’s hand, warm against his skin, came up to squeeze the back of Cinn’s neck, then remained there for the duration of the silent drive.
There were no discussions of where they were going next; neither of them had forgotten their promises in the bathroom yesterday.
It was only when they drove through an unfamiliar part of town, one composed of shiny, fancy high-rise buildings, that it hit Cinn—he was finally going to get to see Julien’s apartment. Finally going to get a lot else too, but there was always room for icing on the cake.
Maz slid into an underground parking lot.
Her engine switched off.
Cinn and Julien both stared straight ahead, out of the pristinely clean windscreen.
Julien cleared his throat. “Listen, I need to tell you some—”
Before Julien could ruin it with his words, Cinn unclipped his seat belt and climbed on top of his lap, squeezing himself into the space between the steering wheel and Julien’s body. After a small noise of surprise, Julien gazed at him with wide eyes, then reached down to pull the lever under the seat, sending the chair flying backwards.
“Cinn—”
Cinn silenced Julien with his mouth, then pulled back to whisper, “Let’s talk tomorrow.” Whatever Julien had to say could wait. He had already decided that even if Julien returned to his ‘strictly no strings’ mindset, Cinn would allow himself this one night of indulgence with him.
The very tip of Cinn’s tongue teased open Julien’s mouth. Then, letting go of all and every inhibition, he melted against Julien’s lean body. Hands quickly roamed all over each other—running over hips, thighs, hair, urgent in their need to touch, touch, touch.
Needy, breathy little sounds that he didn’t bother to hold back escaped Cinn as he rolled his hips into Julien’s lap, relishing the firmness he found there.
Beep !
The hard plastic of the steering wheel dug into his butt.
Oops . He’d almost forgotten they were in a car.
Julien gently pulled Cinn’s head back, muttering several curses in French. His swollen lips pulled up in a beautiful smile, both dimples flashing. “Come on.”
Holding his hand every second of the way, Julien led him out of the car park, through a luxurious lobby, and jammed the button for the elevator with aggressive force. Then Julien dragged him through the barely opened doors.
“Please don’t tell me you have the penthouse suite,” Cinn groaned.
“Because you can’t bear the thought of waiting that long for me to rip your clothes off, or you can’t bear the thought of me being a rich asshole?”
“Definitely both.”
Julien hit the button of the highest number with a guilty smirk.
As the doors slid closed, Julien manhandled Cinn against a mirrored wall, eyes predatory. He pressed his tongue to Cinn’s neck, then nuzzled a path all along his jaw. “I’ll make the time go quickly.”
Surging need had Cinn shivering in anticipation, full body tremors that Julien could surely feel, given how hard he was pressing Cinn into the mirror .
If there was a CCTV camera in here, someone was getting quite the show. But damned if Cinn was taking his eyes off Julien to check.
Demanding hands dug into the flesh of Cinn’s ass through his jeans, pulling him impossibly closer to Julien. Then, relinquishing the grip of one hand, Julien lifted Cinn’s chin up to meet his gaze, and squeezed it lightly while he said, his voice low, husky, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll scream my name until your throat is raw.”
Cinn choked.
Ping ! The elevator doors slid open.
They had only seconds to spring apart, panting heavily on opposite corners of the lift as a cleaner joined them, wheeling a mop bucket into the middle of them while their eyes darted from one of them to the other.
Cinn wiped the excess saliva from his lips with the back of his hand.
The cleaner turned to face the elevator door, her chin tilted upwards, shaking her head to herself.
Heart pounding, Cinn focused on the button lights as the elevator travelled three floors upwards.
The doors opened. The poor intruder walked out.
Then, within a heartbeat, he was back in Julien’s arms.
“I want you to fuck me,” Cinn whispered, his heart reaching overdrive. “But you’ll be my first.”
Julien blinked in confusion, head cocked to one side.
Cinn’s face flushed with heat. “With Tyler I always topped. And then, obviously, there were a few others,” he said, not wanting to seem so dramatically under Julien in terms of the number of his sexual experiences. “But we didn’t get that far,” he mumbled.
“Okay,” said Julien, eyes softening. He gently cupped Cinn’s cheek to run his thumb over it. “Are you sure? We can do whatever you want.”
One decisive nod later, the elevator doors finally slid open to reveal the top floor: a corridor, two apartment doors on each end. Julien squeezed his hand as he led him down to the left, unlocking the door with haste and ushering Cinn inside.
Passing quickly through the lobby, they entered a spacious, sparsely decorated living room, modern and sleek, although slightly more grey than Cinn would have predicted. “Nice place,” he said, to be polite.
“It’s really not.”
A grand piano was easily the most impressive thing in the room, its red velvet stool offering a stark contrast to the high-gloss black finish of the instrument. Cinn’s eyes roamed over to the open-plan kitchen, but Julien’s arms wrapping around him from behind soon distracted him.
“You can evaluate my cookware tomorrow.” Julien laughed directly into his ear, as his hand moved to cup Cinn’s dick, giving his semi-hard length a light squeeze. “I’m hungry for something else right now.”
Cinn leaned back into Julien as he rocked his hips up against Cinn, showing him exactly how starved he was.
Was it just Cinn, or was the whole room spinning? He swallowed. “Wait, can we put on some music first?”
He’d spied an extremely fancy-looking silver turntable on the other side of the living room. After an impatient hum, Julien released him, and Cinn went over to flick through the box of vinyls next to it.
“I’ve got nothing you’d know,” Julien said, with a faint chuckle.
“Then put on your favourite album.”
Julien kneeled beside him, then held up two vinyls, A Love Supreme by John Coltrane and Kind of Blue by Miles Davis.
Cinn wrinkled his nose. “Surely you have something other than jazz?”
Sighing as if Cinn pained him, Julien rifled through the box to the very back. “Béatrice got me this. I’ve never played it.”
Cinn snickered at the familiar rainbow prism cover of the Dark Side of the Moon . “Thankfully for me, Béatrice had good taste in music.”
Dark clouds covered Julien’s eyes, so Cinn grabbed his face to kiss his forehead. “Put it on,” he whispered.
With careful fingers, Julien placed the disk onto the turntable and delicately lowered the needle. The heartbeat sound of Pink Floyd’s “Speak to Me” soon filled the room. Cinn climbed onto Julien’s lap, straddling it. He placed one hand on Julien’s chest. A soft smile broke out on Julien’s face as he returned the gesture.
“You’re really quite exceptional, you know.” Julien tugged off Cinn’s beanie to run his fingers through his hair. His tongue glided over Cinn’s lower lip before he placed it between his teeth. Then Julien pulled back to meet his eyes. Gave him a considering look. “Did you like it last time, in Paris? Like me being in control?”
Far too much.
Since Paris, his late-night fantasies had often wandered in a Julien-shaped direction.
Fantasies of Julien’s voice directing him, commanding him.
Fantasies of being tortured for hours as Julien made him wait and wait and wait to climax.
Fantasies of being tied up.
“You’re all good,” Cinn whispered. “I’ll tell you otherwise.” After a satisfied smirk, Julien’s mouth reached for his lips. Cinn ducked his head away. “But are we going to do it on the floor again, or do I get treated to a bed this time?”
“I think you just about deserve a mattress,” Julien replied with a breathy laugh. Then he looked Cinn dead in the eye to add, “Only so I can push your face into it, though.”
An electric jolt shot straight to Cinn’s cock and he groaned. Julien pulled them both to their feet, turned the music up to maximum volume, and led him through a door to the bedroom.
Taking backwards steps while still wrapped around Julien, his legs hit the frame of the gigantic bed. He fell back onto it, with Julien gripping the front of his hoodie, tugging it upwards. With haste, Cinn lifted up his arms, and Julien removed it and his T-shirt simultaneously. Warm hands eagerly explored the bumps and dips of his chest, while his fingers dragged through the light smattering of hair.
Hands ever so slightly trembling, Cinn fumbled with the buttons of Julien’s white shirt, then pushed the garment off him to reveal his body for the first time, his heart rate spiking. Cinn’s eyes traced the lines of Julien’s pale, lean frame, a subtle strength beneath the surface of his lightly toned physique. In the soft, dimmed light, the contours of his body painted an enticing portrait that Cinn already ached to touch.
An appreciative sigh escaped him, and Cinn made quick work of Julien’s belt. Julien shrugged out of the rest of his clothes, his impressive erection springing up from a nest of dark hair. Unable to resist, Cinn fell to the floor at Julien’s knees, placed the tip of his length in his mouth, and gave him one hard suck.
With a possessive grip, Julien fisted Cinn’s hair, forcing himself slightly further into his throat. He’d only had the guy’s dick in his mouth twice in his life, but he was quickly becoming addicted to Julien’s warm heat, the sensation of his weight against his tongue.
Julien’s free hand began to trace the map of Cinn’s face, gentle fingers in stark contrast to the increasing urgency of his thrusts. Cinn pulled back to tongue his cockhead, painting his lips with Julien’s precum while his spit pooled down his chin. Then, he took him as deep as he could, swallowing around him, eyes watering.
As Julien extracted himself from Cinn’s warm, wet mouth, Cinn whimpered at the sudden absence of him. A short laugh was quickly followed by Julien’s growl in Cinn’s ear. “You were too good at that, mon amour. Now, take your jeans off. Quickly.”
At the flash of heat in his eyes, Cinn shed his shoes, socks, and trousers at lightning speed, before throwing himself backwards onto the middle of the soft bed. Cinn’s own dick, now beyond fully erect and begging for attention, twitched in anticipation, and he took it in hand, desperate to relieve himself .
Before he could complete his second stroke, Julien’s hand had clamped around his wrist, pulling it away with a tight squeeze. “That’s mine,” he growled.
Holy shit. Was it possible to come from words alone? Cinn would happily volunteer to find out.
Julien climbed on top of his legs, pinning Cinn to the bed. Then, with an obscene sound that rattled around Cinn’s head, he spat on his dick. A firm hand closed around his aching cock, and he was soon thrusting in time with Julien’s delicious wet strokes as cool fingers traced up his left side, to slip delicately in between his ribs. The pad of Julien’s thumb rubbed gently over Cinn’s slit on every upstroke, mixing the beads of precum with his saliva.
Cinn’s eyes rolled to the back of his head just as Julien paused.
He made a very vocal noise of protest, but Julien continued his ascent until his face hovered right above his so that Cinn met his dark and wide eyes. “Do you still want me to fuck you?” he said, his hand reaching down past Cinn’s dick to rub the length of Cinn’s crease.
“Yes, yes,” Cinn breathed impatiently. “Fuck, Julien, yes .”
Julien grinned, his sliver of white teeth glinting in the moonlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling window. “I’m going to make it so good for you,” he promised, and Cinn melted back onto the mattress, panting with need.
Cinn already felt so, so good. How could he possibly feel even better?
“Should I use a condom?”
“Not unless you’ve fucked someone since you told me you were clear.”
Julien reached up to cup his face. “Cinn. I haven’t wanted anyone else since the moment I laid eyes on you.” He pressed a single kiss onto Cinn’s lips. “And I don’t see that changing.”
Cinn swallowed, wanting so desperately for those words to be true. “Same.”
Julien kept one hand resting on Cinn’s chest, stroking small circles onto it as he climbed over to his bedside table, to rummage around in a drawer for a painful amount of time. Finally, a bottle clicked open, and Julien removed his hand to squirt a large amount of lube onto his fingers.
Climbing back on top of him, Julien cupped his cheek with his other hand. “Spread your legs,” Julien whispered. “Relax for me.”
With conscious deep breaths, Cinn untensed every muscle, imagining he was sinking ever deeper into the soft bedding. Wet fingers traced a path down his thighs, and he jerked his hips upwards. A full-body shudder coursed through him as Julien pressed one finger to his crease, without breaching him. Then, one slicked finger slipped inside him, and Cinn released a guttural groan as he rolled his hips further into Julien.
With gentle, tender strokes, Julien worked him open, and he became more undone with every thrust. “You don’t need to hold back,” Cinn half gasped.
A tiny chuckle. “Trust me, I have no intention of doing that, mon amour .”
Julien’s mouth trailed a line of feather-soft kisses up, then down the column of Cinn’s throat, before returning to that spot near his collarbone, the spot he’d claimed with his mouth in Paris. When Julien lightly nipped it with his teeth, Cinn wrapped his fingers around the tendrils of Julien’s hair before pushing his face further into it. He wanted him to suck it. He wanted to be marked.
Cinn’s heart rate surged impossibly faster, every inch of his skin tingling with an intense warmth. “More,” Cinn gasped, and he didn’t know if he meant more fingers, more pressure, more sucking of his tender skin. He just knew that he needed more, more, more .
Almost instantly, another finger pressed inside him, stretching him open with a small sting before they found their rhythm. Julien’s fingers curled ever so slightly as they sought their prize. The first pass against his prostate had him crying out as warm, electric waves of pleasure racked his body. The second and third had his eyes leaking tears. The fourth had him clenching around Julien’s fingers, streams of nonsense pouring out of his mouth.
The sound of his own blood rushing through his ears merged with the one of the wet squelch of Julien’s fingers working absolute magic. Cinn’s balls tightened to the point of pain. “Please,” he begged, before letting out a pitiful whine. “I want you to be inside me when I come.”
Semi-delirious with want and need, when Julien removed his fingers, Cinn began jerking his legs erratically, thrashing about on the mattress. Julien pressed two firm hands onto his hips, pinning him down with enough force and control that Cinn stilled, although with a low, desperate moan.
“Are you going to behave? Or do I have to make you?” Julien said, his tone so sultry it did nothing to help Cinn follow his instructions.
“I’ll behave if you’re quick about it.”
“Oh, I’m anything but quick,” Julien replied. “Didn’t you learn that last time?” He released his iron grip on Cinn to lunge for the lube bottle again, squirting an obscene amount onto himself, slathering up every inch of his length. For the first time, a tiny seed of apprehension unfurled in Cinn as he took stock of what was about to enter him. One look at Julien however had that feeling evaporating into thin air—moonlight hit his face, accentuating his cheekbones above a soft smile that only held adoration. Cinn trusted Julien with this, one hundred and ten percent. Trusted him with his body, and increasingly, his heart.
So when Julien said, “I need you to promise you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much,” Cinn groaned. If only he hadn’t overshared about his inexperience, Julien would be inside him right now, and he wouldn’t be left with this empty, aching need while he waited.
“Julien, I swear to God if you don’t give it to me right—”
Julien’s lips silenced him with a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep into his mouth. “Promise me,” he hissed .
“I promise,” Cinn choked out.
“Start on your hands and knees,” Julien instructed, with a slap to Cinn’s thigh, and he positioned himself so quickly the world spun.
Cinn closed his eyes.
The only noise that could be heard above the faint music playing in the living room was Cinn’s erratic breath. Then reality became nothing but his own panting breath as Julien pressed the tip of his slick cock against his crease, the euphoria of Julien stroking his dick as he inched ever deeper inside Cinn with tiny thrusts, Julien pausing to ask if it still felt good and Cinn encouraging him onwards, Julien pulling his hair ever so slightly too roughly, Julien’s voice telling him he was doing so, so good, and then the pressure of Julien’s thighs pressing against him as he bottomed out, filling Cinn completely.
Cinn gripped the duvet, steadying himself as he became consumed with the sensation, the feeling of fullness he’d never felt before . Julien used both hands to grab his hips, fingers digging deep into his flesh, gloriously pleasurable pain coursing through Cinn as Julien began to move, thrusting faster and faster, going impossibly deeper. As his body opened for Julien, he trembled, almost collapsing on top of the mattress.
“Non, mon amour,” Julien murmured as he repositioned him. “Stay right like this.”
Cinn was only able to whimper in response. Each movement knocked the breath out of him as he arched his back, pushing himself further onto Julien’s cock.
“I can’t”—Julien panted, his fingers dipping ever tighter into Cinn’s hip—“describe”—a deep thrust tore a scream out from Cinn’s mouth—“how fucking amazing you feel.”
Cinn became lost in Julien’s long smooth glides, movements that rubbed over every inch inside him, shooting bursts of ecstasy through his every cell .
When Julien ceased moving, and pulled him up into his arms, he didn’t complain, only became a pliant bundle of limbs that sagged back against him, sighing happily.
“Turn around. I want to look into your beautiful eyes when I come,” Julien breathed, releasing his tight grip on him.
Dazed, Cinn lay on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling as if in a fever dream until his vision was consumed by Julien’s face. As Julien eased back inside him, he moaned, dragging his fingernails down Julien’s back as he did so. With his arms bracketing Cinn’s head, Julien captured his mouth, sliding their tongues together at the same pace as he pushed himself inside of him. Distantly, he was aware of Pink Floyd’s ethereal vocals and haunting synthesisers reaching a crescendo.
To muffle his screams and incoherent babbles of pure pleasure, Cinn threw his hand over his mouth, to find his wrist being wrenched back onto the bed.
“ Non . I want to hear what I’m doing to you.”
Even though his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, tears freely streamed down his cheeks onto the mattress. The feeling of Julien’s skin touching almost every inch of his was too much and not enough at the same time. “Julien,” Cinn whispered like a prayer, tightening his legs around Julien’s waist.
“Say it again.”
Cinn opened his eyes. With a trembling hand, he brushed Julien’s blond waves from his sweat-slick forehead, to reveal grey eyes that pierced his with a ferociously possessive gaze.
“Julien, Julien, Julien,” he chanted, his dick throbbing with every syllable.
“Louder!”
“Julien, Julien!” he screamed, as Julien pushed inside him one last time to fill him with hot cum, and as if that was his own permission, Cinn released his own hot, silky ropes into the middle of them .
Collapsing on top of him, panting breathlessly, Julien smothered Cinn with his body, his fingers tangling in his hair as he whispered beautiful sounding things in French into his ear while he continued pushing him into the mattress, slowing the roll of his hips until he stilled.
Eventually, Cinn’s limbs stopped twitching, and his pulse steadied. He burrowed his face into the crook of Julien’s neck. “Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled, and Julien laughed. Cinn hooked a leg over Julien’s, entwining them even further. “Just so you know, if you try to kick me out right now, I will probably burn your apartment block down.”
“That’s funny, because I was about to say that if you even think about leaving, I’m not opposed to tying you to the bed.”
Cinn trailed his fingertips down Julien’s face, brushing his thumb over the dip of one dimple. “Why would I possibly leave when everything I want is right here?” he whispered.