Francis reached under Matt's chin, drawing his face up so that their lips were a breath apart. The scent of his breath made Matt dizzy, and his lips twitched in anticipation, but he realized that Francis would go no further. He was going to make sure that Matt really wanted it this time.

"Francis, I…." I'm sorry, I messed up, I can't believe this is - "I love you, too." And then Matt closed the distance between them.

The kiss was firm, insistent, verging on desperate as Matt realized exactly how much he desired this, how long he had waited for it. His tongue traced the smooth curve of Francis' lower lip and he felt it quirk into a smile as Francis opened his mouth and gave Matthew entrance. Matt took the invitation, but with a slight pause; he had never done this before, ever. He had kissed Katy once, when they were freshmen, but all that had told him was that he did not want that from girls.

So this was uncharted territory.

Francis noted the hesitation and chuckled, deep in the back of his throat; Matt felt the vibrations of the sound. Francis cupped Matt's cheek in one hand, slipping his smooth tongue between parted lips, ghosting over teeth, exploring every inch of Matt's sweet, maple-tainted mouth. Matt reciprocated, clumsily at first, but then with a growing confidence and finally a desperation that left the two gasping for air against each other's cheeks.

Francis let out a startled hiss as Matt's face dropped to his neck, kissing a line across his jaw, down his throat, biting a mark against his neck, then licking the spot, slowly, apologetically. The sensation made Francis shiver. So the boy was a quick learner, was he?

Francis tilted his head for better access, and Matt took the hint, nipping Francis' neck, surprised at his own boldness but somehow intoxicated by the sounds that Francis was making in response to his attentions. But Francis had decided that he would not be outdone, and slid his palms down Matt's sides, then up, under his sweatshirt and tee, feeling the shiver of warm fingers against sweat-sheened skin. Francis laughed again, and Matt found that he loved the sound. But then the Canadian let out a gasp as Francis rubbed his thumb against Matt's nipples.

"Francis…" Matt moaned, trying unsuccessfully to suppress the desire in his voice. Francis cocked his head, listening, but did not stop the lazy circles that his fingers were making around Matt's chest. "Francis, please, t-touch me."

"My pleasure," the Frenchman returned, slipping the hand not fondling Matt's nipples down the smooth plane of his stomach, into the waistband of his jeans, under his boxers, and squeezed Matt's half-hard member.

Matt let out an undignified whine through his nose and his legs trembled at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. Francis smiled and began to stroke along Matt's length, talented fingers causing Matt's mind to go utterly blank. But then the hands suddenly withdrew, and Matt's half-lidded eyes fluttered open, not understanding. He found himself staring into Francis' suddenly serious blue eyes.

"M-Matthieu." The Frenchman's voice wavered. Matt's eyes opened wider in shock. Francis was stuttering? Was he worried?

"Matthieu, are… are you sure that you want this?"

Was Francis afraid of being rejected?

Matt, on the other hand, knew the answer to the question, and knew it without a doubt. So he put his hand on Francis' chest and pushed him down onto the bed.

"I'm sure," and kissed the breath out of him.

As Matthew kissed him, Francis' hands began to move again, this time to the buttons of his own shirt, swiftly unhooking them and divesting himself of the constricting clothing. He broke the passionate kiss only long enough to shift Matt's clothing over his head, letting it drop somewhere outside the immediate sphere of "us" and "this" and "now". Both let out a gasp as bare chests touched, a sensation that Matt had been dreamed about for so long that now that the warmth was real and soft and here, it felt right. And he wanted more, more contact. He wanted…

And Francis knew, of course he knew, because he was overcome with the same desire for contact and the wish to be closer than they had ever thought possible, and he pulled at Matt's half-open jeans.

"Enleve tes pantalons," ordered Francis, and Matt sat back to obey. Francis shrugged out of his own dress slacks as well and then they were facing each other, both kneeling on the bed, both bare and able to see each other, all of each other, for the first time.

Matt's eyes traced the lines of Francis' arched neck, blending with collarbone, shoulder; down the smooth muscle of his chest, his stomach, further down, to Francis' cock, and he felt his cheeks color, feeling exposed and inadequate. He was painfully aware how, unlike on Francis' mature, smooth-planed body, he still retained traces of baby fat, traces of adolescence.

"Matthieu…" whispered Francis, and Matt's blush sank deeper at dark tone of silky reverence in his voice. Francis pressed his lips against Matt's ear, even as he pulled the young man into his lap. "T'es beau." His hands slipped across the Canadian's pale, bare thighs, then behind to his ass.

"F-Francis!"

The young Canadian let out a whine as one of Francis' fingers slipped inside him.

"Je suis desole," the man breathed, sounding mollified and withdrawing. "Do you want me to stop?"

It hurt. It hurt badly, but suddenly… suddenly, the feeling of warmth, of being filled by another, someone whom he had loved for so long - that feeling made Matt's heart race and his breathing quicken and he wanted the pressure back, but in and of itself Matt realized that it was not enough. He wanted more, more, he wanted Francis' straining hardness, which brushed against his and caused his hips to thrust against the other's, he wanted it inside him.

"Don't… stop. Please. I …need you."

And Francis smiled, a smile that was mixed with love and adoration and a predatory lust as he reached somewhere beside him, opening a drawer in the table beside the bed and returning with a container of lube. He spread it thickly across his fingers and thrust two back inside Matt. Matthew's back arched, but he was ready for the feeling this time, and even as he let out small moan, he realized it felt very, very good, because Francis' fingers were so close and there.

"Aaanh!" moaned Matt as the tight bundle of nerves was stroked inside of him and he was unprepared for the sensation of heat and fire that blossomed in his abdomen. He ground his hips harder into Francis' and the man groaned appreciatively, then withdrew his fingers for a second time. Matt whimpered at the loss of friction, but the sound turned into a gasp he felt Francis cock rest against his entrance.

Before he could slide it in, however, he felt Francis' unstained fingers grip his chin, turning it so that their blue eyes were reflected in the light of the other's. "Matthieu, I want to tell you… I have waited a very long time for this… I want to make sure that you knew that. I love you. Je t'aime. "

And then he slid himself inside.

The pain was worse, this time, but it was accompanied with a burning heat, a sweet friction that caused both to moan with the contact and intensity of this closeness. And then, guided by Francis' gentle hands, Matt's hips began to move, sliding up, up Francis' hardness, then back down, then up and then down again with a deeper intensity as he began to lose the sense of pain in a greater arousal and desperation and Francis seemed to be effected just as intensely, murmuring Matt's name into his neck as they moved together, faster, harder, harder and Matt could no longer understand anything but the warmth and pleasure and feel of Francis and as the man's fingers reached out to stroke Matt's neglected erection he could not take it any longer and climaxed with a breathy moan. Francis grinned, damn, he grinned with a feral arousal that made Matt's head spin as his body shuddered, riding out his orgasm, and it was the vibration and the tightness that caused Francis' to climax in return, the moan of "Matthieu" on his lips as he came inside of him.

And it was a breathless minute before Matthew could bring himself to move from his slumped position against Francis' shoulder, sliding off of the man and lying next to him on the bed, his breathing still erratic and face flushed and glistening. Francis turned to face him, licking a trickle of sweat from his temple and then kissing Matt's lips.

"I have waited for this, too…" murmured Matt. "For so long." His eyelids fluttered; he was unprepared for the feeling of sated sleepiness that was beginning to assail him. He tried to stay awake and focus on his lover's glowing face, but the battle was being swiftly lost.

In response, Francis simply wrapped his arms around his body, drawing him in close against his chest.

"Sleep, mon Matthieu. I will be here in the morning."

Matt trusted in that.