It's a beautiful sunny day of May, a Friday at that, yet Francis is stuck in an office with a man twice his age, complaining on how he can't get it up anymore for his wife. When Francis first heard of the job "sex therapist" he knew that it was his call in life, and an expensive education later here he was, helping mostly older men with impotence or premature ejaculation problems. He got the occasional younger clients who were worried they had a weird fetish, or strong feminists who were horrified by their arousal caused by porn, but mostly his clients were dull and predictable. However, at the end of the day, the job paid his bills with plenty of money left, and he somehow contributed to a more promiscuous world. Of that he was satisfied, at the very least. Plus, it was a fun way to introduce himself, "Bonjour, my name is Dr. Francis Bonnefoy, legitimate love expert and sex therapist". His record spoke for itself; it worked well as a pickup line too.
This particular day however he was unfortunate enough to have an ugly client; a man – around 35-40 years old – who was balding. He was gay, and said that the gay community was particularly harsh towards chubby and balding men, and that he hadn't had sex in over two years. It was a very depressing tale he told Francis, who really could not wait to get home to his beloved Antonio and make sure they'd never spend even a week sexless, and a tale that seemed only to end with the man weeping.
When Francis asked the man about masturbation he only told him that he had a hard time doing it to himself, since he thought it made him seem like a loser, to which Francis rolled his eyes mentally (he was too professional to mock a patient to his face).
"Masturbation is not pathetic at all, my friend, it's one of the best hobbies you can have", he explained. "See it as practice, if you will. So that you can woo all the men you want with your stunning skills with hand jobs – and get something else in return."
"But you can't just… strike a conversation like that", the man insisted. Francis smiled, though it was a smirk in his own mind. Oh yes, you could strike a conversation like that, and then get lucky. He was a living proof.
Of course, he thought, he was 26, French, fashionable and beautiful where as his client was anything but.
Francis enjoyed helping people getting some action, luckily, regardless of their attractiveness so he continued his consolation with his bald client for the next half hour in a purely professional manner, even though his eyes constantly flickered to the watch to see how long he had to keep the therapy up. She was 4:35 p.m. when his client's time was up, which meant he would be home at 5:15 if he hurried, since he had some grocery shopping to do. He snickered at the thought after he had bid his patient farewell and booked him an appointment next week; how life had changed.
Antonio had in no way tied him down – not yet – but he was his first serious relationship and the only boyfriend he had not cheated on. Perhaps it would be seen as hypocritical for Francis, a sex therapist and more so a self-proclaimed love expert, to sleep around, but he could not think of it like that. He had an ill habit of falling in love with multiple people at once; but he was a terrible juggler and was always found out. Not with Antonio though; Antonio was passionate enough for him to not have time and fall for anyone else; and if he did, he was almost certain that Antonio would forgive him. He had been called simplistic, and while it was true he had a habit of being insensitive, Antonio was not stupid. Francis was pretty sure that Antonio had him figured out quite well on certain levels, so he would no doubt be very understanding if Francis accidently had an affair.
He was lucky the sun was still out when he drove from his office, but he could not enjoy its gazes for long since he had to buy the groceries and hurry home to his lover. Antonio got off work at 4 on Fridays, so he was already at home. His job was much more tiring than Francis though, hence his chores were restricted to cooking and doing the laundry, while Francis shopped for food and cleaned.
Francis had found it amusing, ever since he met Antonio, that he made more money. Of course, his work had required a longer education and much more work – since Antonio had none – but overall Antonio worked longer and had a much more intense working environment. He was a kindergarten teacher.
Some homophobic people would have gasped in horror if they found out that their children's kindergarten teacher not only was gay, but in a relationship with a sex therapist of equal (or more) gayness, but the staff did not tell the parents of Antonio's life status, and he remained well liked. Some of the children had gotten the answer "I have a boyfriend" when they asked Antonio about if he was married, but they had not found it strange; after all, they had yet to learn of homophobia.
On the grocery list was wonderfully normal items such as apples, milk, yoghurt and eggs, which made shopping a rather dull and one-tracked hobby. However, when he stood in line Francis liked to guess the other customer's sex lives, since, after all, it was his job to do so.
The blonde girl in front of him was dressed modestly, but he could recognize a boob job from anywhere, and concluded that she liked to get dirty on weekends. Another large man with muscles so big they had their own muscles was compensating for something, no doubt a shamefully small penis, and his sex life was probably reduced to jerking off to training videos.
The red haired woman behind him was a lipstick-lesbian, judging from the looks she gave the brunette cashier, and the blonde man with his hair slicked back who packed his groceries was a closeted homosexual with a fetish for BDSM. Of course, Francis was cheating when it came to that man, since he, Ludqig, was one of his clients.
With the groceries finally done Francis could drive home, and perhaps surprise his lover with being five minutes early. Not that he assumed Antonio checked his watch every five minute eagerly waiting for him, but… he hoped he was.
His silver Citroën drove him home just barely over the speed limit so he could soon unlock the door to his three room apartment he shared with Antonio. As he opened it, he vaguely expected being jumped and told how he was missed, or shown affection in a similar kind; he did not expect hearing Antonio's loud snore from the living room sofa. It was a bit disappointing, but at the same time, Antonio always looked extra cute when asleep.
Heading straight to the kitchen to unpack the groceries Francis started to form plans on how to best wake up his lover. Perhaps he should prepare a candlelit dinner first, and dress in a suit, or simply wake his sleeping beauty with a kiss? They always enjoyed cooking together on Fridays after all; perhaps Antonio would see it as a betrayal if he cooked without him? Thus he settled for the latter when he walked into the bright living room to see his lovely Antonio sprawled across the sofa in a silly, yet endearing, way. He looked absolutely exhausted, so Francis made new plans and hurried past him into the large bathroom. Although they lived in a three room apartment all of the rooms were large, and the kitchen as well as the bathroom were well equipped – and stylishly decorated.
Together with the classy kitchen island the large bathtub had been their main reason for buying just this particular apartment, so it goes without saying that a bubble bath was always something to look forward to.
Being the romanticist that he was, Francis picked some of the roses he grew in their flowerboxes on the balcony, and spread the rose petals over the hot water. He stripped nude and draped himself in a red satin robe he had fallen in love with the moment Antonio gave it to him, and lit some candles for the final touch before he went to retrieve his lover.
When he returned to the living room Antonio was just as asleep as before so he kneeled down next to him, so that their heads were on the same level, and he breathed into Antonio's ear "Wake up, mon amour", he purred seductively, and leaned back to watch Antonio stir awake.
Slowly Antonio blinked his green eyes open and he yawned loudly before noticing that Francis was right next to him, and dressed in that satin robe he adored.
"Ah, sorry, I must have fallen asleep", Antonio apologized with a lazy smile as he sat up, stretching his arms wide as he yawned again. He stood up then, only a centimetre taller than Francis, and kissed him the only way he knew how; powerfully and passionately, despite his sleepiness. "Welcome home."
"I've been home for a while now", Francis chuckled. "Unless you assume I walk to work wearing this", he teased. Antonio chuckled.
"If you did, I'm sure no one of your clients would have a problem getting it up anymore", he said and kissed his lover again.
"How naughty", Francis smirked. "But you have a point. Perhaps I should wear this then…"
"No!" Antonio suddenly claimed, having forgotten perhaps that they were just fooling around, or never having joked from the start. "Only I get to see you in this", he said honestly with his arms around Francis' waist, suddenly much more possessive, before he kissed him again. Francis liked the possessiveness, very much, and it once again reminded him of the fact that he would never be able to cheat on the man holding him so closely now. He would feel such guilt it would drive him mad.
They continued to kiss for a while, their kisses soon turning longer and deeper – the natural progression – before Francis remembered the bath and he teasingly escaped Antonio's hold. Antonio whined but Francis only pulled him along into the romantic bathroom he had prepared just for them.
It was clearly an effort that paid off, Francis noted as Antonio was quick to strip himself as fast as he could, only to start take Francis' robe off in the calmest matter, as if he had never seen what was under it before. Francis didn't mind though; he let Antonio take his sweet time admiring his body, since he took the time to do the same.
When he was finally out of the robe they got into the bathtub, Antonio sighing happily as his tired body sunk into the hot water. Francis scuffed over to him and he happily rested in his lovers arms.
"Tougher day than usual?" Francis asked as the arm he had around Antonio's shoulders caressed his arm slowly, to soothe him.
"Yeah…" Antonio sighed. "You remember Lovino, right? That really cute kid with the horrible attitude?"
"Oui", Francis replied. "What of him? Causing more trouble?"
"He's gotten from the stage that he hates me and all the other kids, to jealous when I spend time with another child", Antonio explained. "Especially his little brother. He has become even more difficult."
"My poor Antoine", Francis murmured and his hand went up to stroke his lover's brown locks of hair instead. "How lucky you are to have a caring lover such as moi."
"Yeah", Antonio chuckled, and he placed his hand on Francis' thigh, leaning his head back and resting it on Francis' shoulder. "This was a great idea."
"Mm", Francis replied and kissed his lover's cheek. "So what are we making for dinner? I bought lamb, so perhaps tarragon lamb would be good? Or lamb niçoise?"
Antonio thought of Francis' options long and hard, before saying; "I'm hungrier for lamb chops, your grandmother's recipe. Oh, but only if you bought vinegar."
"Of course I did", Francis said and kissed Antonio's cheek again. "I did bring the list you wrote after all… Lamb chops it is." His grandmother had been an excellent chef, and her lamb chops fit perfectly for a Friday evening.
When the water started getting lukewarm they decided it was enough so they got up and dried themselves to get ready for cooking. Both of them were excellent chefs, and could probably have easily made it in the food industry, had their passions (sex and children respectively, and not combined) not outshone their natural skills in the kitchen.
Some thought that perhaps they had met on a culinary class or something similar, but that was untrue. They had met when their common ex-boyfriend, and now shared friend, Gilbert, had invited them both to his birthday party. They had been the only ones to show up along with a girl named Elizabeta, and a card sent from his brother, and as soon as they had started to get some drinks Gilbert and Elizabeta had started making out, leaving Antonio and Francis to entertain themselves; something Francis had no problems with. He had already pegged the Spaniard as handsome, and since he was already openly gay (having been together with Gilbert after all) half of his job was already done.
He had started casually, by introducing himself and explaining his profession, but instead of it having picked Antonio's attention he just chuckled in a friendly manner and said that he worked at a kindergarten. He was very bad at getting flirted with, but since he was an excellent socialiser they managed to entertain each other still, until the "party" was over when Gilbert and Elizabeta decided to move to the bedroom. At their departure Antonio did something Francis had never expected, seeing as he obviously hadn't understood that he had been flirted with all night, and asked him out casually on a date. That was eight months ago, and six months before they bought their three room apartment (mostly with Francis' money) and moved in together. That was their story.
Since Antonio cared less about his appearance than Francis – and really, just looked hotter with his hair and clothes a bit messy – he got dressed quicker and started to prepare the ingredients for dinner, and turned on the oven. Meanwhile Francis dressed himself with far more style and class, even though they would be spending the night at home – and hopefully the most part in bed. But he enjoyed looking his best at all times, and he had yet to wear that light blue dress shirt that he had bought the week before. Antonio never knew that he was supposed to compliment him when he wore something new, but he always did when he really liked what Francis was wearing. Therefore he enjoyed shopping for clothes more than he did before Antonio, just to hear his beloved's genuine compliments.
When he walked towards the kitchen he heard Antonio hum Joan Manuel Serrat's Mediterraneo under his breath, making him smile. Antonio had a beautiful singing voice, and was rather musically talented with a guitar – if he was in such a musical mood perhaps he could play a tone after dinner? Francis dearly hoped so as he joined his lover.
"New shirt?" Antonio asked when he turned his attention away from the onion he was peeling.
"Oui", Francis replied, waiting for the incoming compliment.
"Okay", Antonio replied. "Might want to wear an apron though." So, he did not like the shirt. Francis felt insulted, as it was his fashion sense that had gotten snubbed. He put on the apron and went to melt the butter, giving Antonio the cold shoulder. He knew Antonio wouldn't understand why he was upset, but the cold shoulder always made him understand that he had done something wrong, and thus always trying to make it up for Francis in the sexiest of ways. Francis was very pleased with himself that he had figured this fact out, and perhaps he just overused it a bit.
Antonio knew something was up when Francis wouldn't pass him the rosemary, even after asking for it twice. At dinner, the conversation was very one sided, so Antonio started to worry about his lover's health. Then, instead of helping with the dishes, Francis just went straight to the living room and turned the TV on.
When he had done the dishes he called for Francis, but again his lover did not answer. Thus he walked into the living room and snapped the remote from Francis, turning the TV off.
"Francis, did I do something wrong?" he asked sincerely, folding his arms over his chest as he stood in front of the TV.
"Shouldn't you know?" Francis teased dryly.
"Please Francis, tell me what I did wrong." You don't know normal etiquette, Francis thought with a smirk.
"I know it's something", Antonio insisted and he sat down on the sofa, far away from Francis. "Why won't you tell me? Francis…" he wailed.
"I'm telling you, chéri, it's nothing", Francis said and leaned back on the couch, watching Antonio, eager to see what he would do. The result pleased him.
Since he wouldn't get an answer Antonio decided to do something that always worked; making it up to Francis with his body. He started to crawl towards him on the couch, only partly unaware of his own attractiveness when doing so.
"Francis", he said when he was right next to his lover, while putting his hands on Francis' shoulders. "I'm sorry for making you mad. I'll make it up to you…" He kissed Francis' jaw once, twice, thrice, before his lips danced up Francis' face, kissing his cheek, his nose, his forehead, then the other cheek, the other side of the jaw, slowly and sloppily – but like a real professional. Wonderful, Francis thought.
Finally their lips met and an innocent kiss (well, as innocent as they could be) turned into a make out session when Antonio pushes his lover down on the couch and straddled him, sending his tongue even deeper into Francis' mouth.
Perhaps Antonio disliked the shirt so much that he couldn't stand seeing it on, or he had just really gotten into the mood; regardless he tore Francis' shirt open in no time before throwing it over the couch back. His hands already knew all of Francis' body, so when they roamed his chest and encircled his neck it was done with experience, rather than curiosity; something Francis could not say that he minded. Antonio knew just which spots to rub and where to avoid (believe it or not; Francis was ticklish) for everything about his movements to become perfect, and make Francis moan delightfully.
He started pulling Antonio's shirt as well – for he loved the splendid body underneath it so – and it soon joined Francis's on the floor. With their lips still connecting, their tongues now playing inside of Antonio's mouth, the Spaniard started to open Francis' pants and rub his cock; of course Francis went commando.
One hand stroking Francis' long blonde hair and one hand stroking his cock left Antonio helpless to stop Francis' own advances; as if he would ever have protested. Some sex therapists became great lovers after their education; Francis was just a prodigy. His hands moved to Antonio's firm ass and he slipped them inside of the tight jeans, squeezing Antonio's bare buttocks hard and making his lover moan into the kiss. He really loved the way Antonio moaned, so it was sad that the beautiful sound was muffled by a kiss; thus he ended it and kissed Antonio's neck instead.
Momentarily Antonio stopped stroking his lover's cock so he could take out his own one, but Francis was quick to move his right hand from Antonio's ass and grab his wrist instead, hindering his move. Had the mood been less sexual the Spaniard would have been confused by the action, but instead he only let Francis take control – and his hand returned to pleasure his cock.
Francis instead unzipped Antonio's pants – he did not go commando – and reached into his underwear to grab his cock. Antonio groaned and moved down so that their cocks rubbed against each other, something that caused Francis to moan just as beautifully. Antonio stopped stroking his cock and let his hand tease Francis' nipples instead, while his lover grabbed both cocks in his hand and started stroking them at the same time. The pleasure this move elicited caused Antonio to start thrusting into his hand; and against Francis' cock; and had his position been different Francis would have done the same. Instead, he only focused on the warmth their combined efforts provided, and stroke faster and faster to match his lover's thrusts.
Though it was clear they would get off soon enough without penetration, his hand still resting on Antonio's ass couldn't help put slip a finger or two inside him, stretching him in their way to find the prostate. Antonio moaned something in Spanish, making Francis again remind himself to sign up for that night-course in the language of passion, and then kissed his lover feverishly, almost suffocating him in the process. Francis did not have to find the prostate, for Antonio still came, just barely missing the couch as his semen stained Francis' shaven chest. The sight; Antonio arching his back, groaning and releasing, was one glorious sight indeed, and it did not take many strokes after that for Francis to cum as well, his seeds mixing with Antonio's.
Antonio, after catching his breath, smiled down at his lover and pressed a kiss on his forehead.
"Have you forgiven me now?" he asked innocently, with a wink and a chuckle he kept inside.
"Hm? Ah, oui, c'est bon", Francis murmured lazily. He thought briefly of his poor new shirt, but realized that if Antonio did not like it, he should get rid of it. That would give them a reason to go out shopping the following day; something he looked forward to very much.
Antonio got off him then and stretched his arms, before putting his pants back on. "You know that I'll have sex with you whenever you want, right?" he asked casually as he eyed Francis in a playful manner. "You don't have to pretend you're mad just to get laid."
It couldn't be! He had been found out? Francis did not want it to be ruined, this faked anger which would always awake the best in Antonio, so he could only lie.
"I wasn't pretending, my dear Antoine", he corrected. "You didn't compliment my shirt."
"I didn't think it looked good", Antonio defended himself. "You want me to lie?"
Now he really made it difficult for Francis, but he knew his lover inside and out, and he knew how easily distracted he was.
"No, but I want you to play me a song", he smiled and sat up, putting his pants back on before reaching for a napkin to wipe himself clean. From many dinners spent in the living room luckily they had napkins on the couch table, so he did not have to reach very far. "That nameless Spanish melody you love so much." Like he had hoped, Antonio's deep green eyes sparkled.
"Oh! Sure, let me just get my guitar", he said as he dashed towards the bedroom and Francis breathed a sigh of relief. While Antonio now had proved himself far more observant than he thought, he still was as distractible as always, so Francis still had the upper hand in their relationship. At least for now.
Antonio soon returned with his guitar and sat down next to Francis on the sofa, equally shirtless, before he started to play. He was unnaturally gifted with his hands, Francis thought with a smirk; and good at playing the guitar, too.
On the end of their first date they had ended up at Antonio's place, and made out passionately on the couch before Antonio suddenly got up and said that he would get something from the living room. Francis had smirked, thinking he meant lube or a condom, so while his date was away he had stripped nude. Thus Antonio had looked very confused when he returned with his guitar in his hand, before his grin grew and he had said "oh yeah, it's really hot in here", before removing his own shirt and then starting to play.
They had thus broken Francis' record of sleeping on the first date, for Antonio's third song had been a lullaby so he fell asleep before they could do anything. Luckily, the first thing he did the following morning was help Antonio with his morning wood, so if he counted it as the first date still, that meant his record had been kept intact.
This beautiful day in May, where the sun had set long ago, Antonio played the same three songs; the nameless love song, Malagueña, and the ever enchanting lullaby he had revealed to Francis that he had written himself, and titled El viento pacífica. It was only 11 p.m., but after a long day, sex and a lullaby played for him, who could blame Francis for falling sleep?
Truth to be told he was, perhaps, just somewhat conscious when Antonio stopped playing, and he might have faked his sleep only to be carried to the bedroom by his strong and sexy lover – and who could blame him? Antonio stripped his pants off before tucking him in tightly in the duvet before kissing both cheeks and mumbling "buenas noches" into his ear. He proceeded to strip nude as well after brushing his teeth (something Francis wanted to do, but couldn't since he was "asleep") and then getting into the bed. He let one arm embrace Francis as he lay on the side, and before long he was snoring. Sometimes he fell asleep faster than fast, but other nights he literally begged Francis to count sheep for him.
With Antonio fast asleep Francis pried himself away from the bed unwillingly to brush his teeth, only to be distracted by a bottle of wine in the bathroom that he had been meaning to share with Antonio during their bath. They had drunken wine to dinner, but other than that they were perfectly sober. How unusual… and refreshing, he thought as he brushed his teeth. He might have been a bit too hasty, since he longed after the bed where his lover laid waiting, but he figured the dentists wouldn't notice.
Once he was done he sneaked under the duvet again and nuzzled against Antonio, kissing his cheek good night as a form of payback. Not even Antonio's sleeping form had the courtesy to make some kind of noise which indicated his gratitude, but ah, such was life. Such was Antonio.
It was soon made clear however that Francis would not get any sleep; apparently Antonio was planning on snoring all night long, and not even his earplugs could keep the sound away. He tried to gently roll Antonio around to lie on his stomach – he normally didn't snore from that position – but apparently the lamb chops had made him put on a bit too much weight for he did not budge, not even when Francis applied more force behind his movements. When he finally gave up however Antonio rolled around on his own, and his snoring ceased as well.
Such an odd creature he was, Francis thought when he looked upon his sleeping lover, both with amusement and confusion, but mostly with tenderness and care. He couldn't stop himself from reaching over and stroking his cheek, this time earning a small sigh escaping Antonio's lips. It was very beautiful, so just like him.
Content, Francis buried himself into the pillow, facing Antonio but slowly fading into unconsciousness, until he heard Antonio starting to snore again.
The first weeks; or months, really; into their relationship they had spent awake till 2 or 3 a.m. every night, but not because of snoring, but acts of love. It wasn't that their stamina had dropped; they were both in their mid twenties; they shouldn't have problems like that for a while according to Francis the sex therapist. They had simply gotten too comfortable in living together, he realized.
But, despite the snoring, he couldn't complain. Right now, in the very least, he was awfully satisfied with being in a monogamous relationship with his beloved Spaniard, so he would have to put up with some sleepless nights that were not caused by passionate love making. But then again, why was that necessary? If he was going to be sleepless, so should Antonio…
This lead Francis to make a decision he would not regret; waking his lover up in the best of ways. He slipped under the cover and parted Antonio's legs enough to lie between them, then pulled down his pajama pants (he, unlike Francis, did not sleep nude. It was a shame) and taking his limb cock in his hand, started to stroke it to an erection. Once it was half hard he started to lick it, smirking when he heard Antonio's snore change into a moan. He kissed the tip with a parted mouth, letting his tongue tease the slit, while fondling Antonio's balls with the outmost professionalism.
"Francis…" Antonio moaned from the other side of the covers, which were soon removed. He had woken up, finally. "Hey", he smiled weakly and reached down a hand to pat Francis' head. "You- ah", he moaned as Francis' grip of his balls tightened, at the same time he attempted to take more of his Spaniard into his mouth.
Really, what could Antonio do but moan and appreciate the actions? Francis was almost always horny; Antonio had realized that on that night of their first date when he had found him naked on the couch after getting the guitar. Luckily though, Antonio saw no problem with this; in fact he loved it. How could he not? He had a funny, smart and sexy lover who wanted nothing more than to pleasure him; and be pleasured in return; how was that not the ideal?
Francis now had half of Antonio's cock in his mouth, and Antonio's thoughts couldn't stay focused for very long as his lover started to bob his head up and down, hands having left his balls to fondle his ass instead.
He would lose it soon, he could tell, but Antonio did not want to come with an unsatisfied Francis. It was hard mentally to have the power to stop Francis' wonderful actions, but Antonio felt that he had to, so he grabbed his beautiful blonde locks and pulled his cock out of his mouth.
"Antoine-", Francis whined briefly before Antonio sat up and leaned over to kiss him, tasting his own precum in his lover's mouth. He pulled Francis up to a sitting position, and grabbed his ass as a form of retribution.
"Francis, top or bottom?" he asked and kissed Francis' neck sensually, while giving his ass an extra squeeze.
"B-bottom tonight chéri", Francis decided and leaned back, his arms locked around Antonio's neck, thus bringing him down right along to hover over him.
Antonio's hands moved to Francis' thighs and he parted them as much as he could before positioning his cock against Francis' unprepared hole. The blow job earlier would have to suffice as lubrication now, and Francis never did mind a bit of pain if it was for the sake of pleasure.
With one hand on Antonio's neck, and the other one wrapped around his own hard cock, Francis gave Antonio a sign of approval to thrust inside, something the Spaniard happily obliged to doing with his hands in a firm hold on Francis' hips.
Both men groaned at the first thrust due to the tightness, but Francis had done this far too often to let it affect him. He looked up with a seductive smirk to his lover, urging him to move, while he started to pleasure himself with his hand.
Antonio started to move then, thrusting in and out at a quick pace, steadied by his hold, and moaning for Francis when the latter squeezed around him teasingly. His thrusts became harder and Francis' own moans became louder, and the neighbors didn't get any sleep either.
Both men were nearing their release but it was Antonio who came first, inside of lover for he did not have the time to pull out, before wrapping his hand around Francis' and helping him into release as well with a few quick and hard strokes.
They were very sweaty when Antonio pulled out, and far too exhausted to be sleepy. Together they got into the bathroom and stood in the shower, cleaning each other in a weird mix of showering and making out that neither partner could ever complain about. Even though their hands were covered in soap it felt more like caresses than cleaning, and whenever their mouths were so close how could they do anything but kiss? Thus the shower took far longer than what was needed, and afterwards they could not bring themselves to go back to bed.
Dressed in white bathrobes they brought the bottle of wine and two glasses to the living room where they turned on the TV. There was nothing good on but it didn't matter to two lovers drunk on each other and a bit tipsy of the expensive wine; they could watch anything in each other's company. With his arm around Antonio, and the other's head on his shoulder, Francis feared for a moment that his lover would fall asleep on him again and starting to snore even louder, now due to the alcohol in him, but luckily Antonio seemed far too consumed of the nature program about sea turtles to sleep any time soon. Apparently he had not found the shows on TV boring.
And so their night was spent mostly without sleep, with two glasses of wine, and each other's bodies for comfort. Just like it should be, even though Francis would have preferred it if Antonio's gorgeous eyes were focused on him rather than the stupid animals. The time he spent being jealous of the animals made him unaware of the fact that the credits had begun rolling, and he didn't realize that the documentary was over before Antonio spoke suddenly.
"Francis", Antonio said, even though he did not tear his eyes away from the screen. "Tonight was nice." These random and sudden words caused some light confusion of Francis' part.
"Oui", he agreed. "What of it, chéri?"
"Nah, I was just thinking, that I liked how tonight turned out", Antonio replied. "You see, I did not mean to fall asleep after work. I wanted to eat out with you tonight, but then you had prepared the bath…"
"Blaming it on me, are you?" Francis teased.
"No no", Antonio corrected, not understanding that Francis was joking, or perhaps only not noticing the teasing voice. "It's just… I really wanted to eat out tonight. I figured eating in could work too, but then you were mad at me…"
Francis could tell that Antonio was upset, but why he could not figure out. He pressed a kiss to Antonio's cheek and turned the TV off, causing his lover to look at him instead.
"Talk to me, love", he encouraged him and reached up a hand to caress his cheek. "I'm not mad at you now." Not that he ever had been, not really.
"Okay", Antonio said and took a deep breath. "I really love you, Francis", he said with earnestness that only he seemed to possess. "And tonight is a good example of why. You're so wonderful, you know?" Francis did not mind at all getting complimented by his lover, but he couldn't help but feel that this speech was heading in the wrong direction. He was waiting for the inevitable "but" that would ruin everything they had together, and the suspense of not knowing what was going on in Antonio's mind was killing him.
"So", Antonio continued. "I was thinking of asking you something, and when it didn't work out I thought I could just ask it some other time. But you know, it's killing me to not know what you'd answer, so…" Francis held his breath, thinking that perhaps he knew what Antonio was about to ask, but trying to prepare himself to not get disappointed if he was wrong. "So", Antonio repeated. "Francis Bonnefoy, do you want to marry me?"
Francis had thought about it sure, but he had always imagined the question being asked in a grander scene. His plan had been to rent a carriage driven by two white horses, and lead them to a beautiful park where a candlelit dinner would be waiting. They would eat by a lake sparkling with the reflections of fireflies, and when the night would be the darkest and their lust the highest he would go down on one knee and present Antonio with the most expensive and beautiful ring he could find. That was how he thought a proposal would, and should, go down. Instead, Antonio had now asked him at 4 a.m., at dawn, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and without a ring. But again, such was Antonio.
Perhaps, if he thought about it, the spontaneity of the proposal could be seen as awfully romantic, and Antonio did mention that he had planned something. Resisting those truthful and lovely eyes was very hard, as well.
Not wanting to keep Antonio in the dark about his answer anymore, he collected his thoughts and made up his mind, forming a reply which would change both of their lives forever. It was hard to utter the words he had chosen to Antonio's face, but he had to be honest. And so, with a small smile that could perhaps be seen as pitying, as well as it could be seen as endearing, he gave Antonio his answer.
Written to be "a story with Spain, without the mentions of tomatoes".