Mon garçon sauvage - Partie 2
My Wild Boy- Part 2
They arrived back at the hotel at 11:55 PM. Dean smiled at the thought of the now celebratory champagne chilling up in their suite. He pulled Jamie to him. He was addicted. He wanted to overdose, binge.
“What? Are you going all soft on me again big boy?” Jamie gazed up at Dean’s face.
“No chance of that babe.” He giggled. “I’m just so happy. I can’t wait to get you up stairs to celebrate. Show you how much I love you.” He closed his eyes and cupped Jamie’s face for a kiss. Kisses were like breath now. Necessary.
“Wow.” Jamie couldn’t muster anymore words. He felt they had both shifted since their declarations on the bridge to one another. Jamie’s blurted, uncontrolled. Dean’s calm and considered. Even in saying I Love You it was completely them. No artifice.
Kisses were deeper, embraces were tighter. Everything all of a sudden fit like an exquisitely tailored suit.
“Can I take you to bed in Paris?” Dean cupped Jamie’s chin again.
“Oui.” Jamie cheekily responded.
Dean leaned into Jamie’s ear. “Je vais t'emmener au lit à Paris, mon sauvage. Mon amour.” I’m taking you to bed in Paris, my wild boy. My love.
They eventually relinquished and moved through the lobby. Mercifully the elevator was empty.
Dean pulled Jamie to him. Kissing hard and clawing at his body, harder. “I need to get you upstairs. I can’t wait any longer. Tonight has been agony in the best possible way.” He sighed into Jamie’s mouth.
“Tell me about it. You started speaking French in that suit, I couldn’t think straight.” Jamie punched his arm. “For making me have to wait all night.”
“I’m sorry baby. My tongue has a mind of its own in Paris.” He grinned sexily and nuzzled Jamie’s neck.
“Yes. Yes it fucking does.” Jamie gasped. The elevator dinged. They laughed and straightened. An elegant older woman came in. She smiled at them and turned in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. “Good evening gentlemen.”
“Good evening. You look very beautiful.” Jamie said heartily. Happiness. Spread.
“Well thank you very much. A handsome young man hasn’t paid me a compliment in a long time. You’re very sweet.” She snapped a look at Dean. “Look after him.” Before she turned her back on them.
Dean snapped his head to Jamie. He giggled like a school boy. Caught. Jamie moved closer and placed his palm on Dean’s crotch and rubbed discreetly. Another tease.
Their floor. Finally.
They filed passed the woman and Dean took the lead, marching Jamie to the suite. Jamie giggled. He loved how Dean was unravelling in front of him. So smart and composed everywhere else. This was the real him. And Jamie got all of it.
Dean opened the door and let Jamie in first. He smacked Jamie’s behind and he yelped.
Dean followed him and grabbed him from behind, swaying their hips and letting hands go wherever they needed. Jamie raised a hand to Dean’s hair.
Dean knew now, this was Jamie’s signal. A command or an encouragement would follow. He stopped.
“Babe, wait.” There it was. Jamie moved forward. Staring. Dean huffed frustratingly, but he knew Jamie would need to process his new surroundings. He’d waited this long. “You organised this suite, that view, champagne all for me?”
Dean looked at the back of Jamie’s head as he took the room in. His lust was replaced by that pang of responsibility. Jamie’s silhouette looked so delicate and angelic. Harry’s words, he’s fragile, echoed in his head and he smiled to himself. “Of course I did. You’re special Jamie, you deserve these moments. If I can make them happen, they will. I’ll do everything to make you happy.”
Dean came to him. “Hey, why are you crying?” He was all of a sudden concerned he’d overwhelmed him. Blinded by the vision of Jamie’s reaction to his efforts, he’d forgotten to think about how Jamie would be able to handle so much in an evening. “Is it too much? It’s too much. I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to feel like there’s too much…”
Jamie put a finger to Dean’s lip. He couldn’t help but kiss it. “Dean, these are happy tears. When I told you I loved you this evening, in the pit of my stomach I was pleading with you to tell me you loved me too, that I was home and safe. I’m crying because I’ve not been able to feel this before. I don’t always feel like I’m loveable. I want to make everyone happy around me but it rarely gets reciprocated. It feels sometimes like I was put on this planet with a cruel mission- make others happy, entertain them, but never to expect it back. I’m just happy I get to experience this. It’s special to most, almost expected, but I’ll need time to know that I’m worthy of this in my head. It’s a journey I have to go on, with you there holding my hand. You let me look at that road and pushed me into it gently. You’ll never understand how precious that is.”
Jamie looked down. Words and honesty he’d wrestled with for so long. Bullies, snide remarks from shallow queens on the scene, men he invested the prospect of happiness in, to be shut out when they tired of his ways.
He’d all but given up on ever even imagining a moment like this. And here was this man not only making them for him, but making sure he was happy every single second of these moments as they went by. Every step through the streets of Paris, every limousine ride, every flight, every padlock. Dean made everything real.
“Forgive me but that’s the most insightful, emotional and heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard. I know I could tell you everyday that you’re more than worthy of every single plan I make but I understand you need to make peace with yourself, get to a point where you love yourself as much as I love you. If that takes time, well, we have it. No rush. Just us.” Dean leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Jamie exhaled, like he was healing, releasing the pain after a fall. Perhaps he was.
“There it is. The understanding. Thank you. Right, I’m ruining the atmosphere in Paris. This will not do. Fill me up… my champagne flute I mean you dirty man.” Dean grinned and topped up their glasses. “Meet me on our terrace in Paris, Dean.” Jamie went to the doors.
“Wow. look at that view. I’ve been to Paris before but never stopped to take in how wonderful it is. It’s so magical, like all those old Disney movies are wrapped up in its streets.” Jamie’s eyes were glassy with wonder. “Want to know a secret of mine?”
Dean beamed. “Always.” He wrapped himself around Jamie.
“I always like to imagine those wonderful films don’t end at the credits. We just get the honour of looking into those lives for an hour or two. But then they carry on. Loving, feeling, being in this perfect world away from horrible reality. I’d love to live there with them, if we could, like Mary Poppins jumping into that painting, would you jump in with me Dean?”
Dean could listen to Jamie’s head unwind all day. “Try and stop me.”
“Good answer. I’m 25 and finally feel like I’m able to be myself. That’s because of you. Dean, can I ask you something?” Jamie felt the question bubbling up in his throat.
“Of course you can. What is it?” Dean was resting his chin in Jamie’s neck.
“I, uh, I hope this is not going to freak you out. But I want to move in with you. Like I said, I feel home with you, so I want to feel that every morning and night. I hope that’s not too soon or you think I might be too much to move in with. I’d understand if you said no.” Jamie started to squirm.
Dean knew this was a moment to restrain him. Keep him anchored. “Yes. You beat me to it again. I was going to ask you. But everything you’ve said. A million times yes.”
Jamie turned to him. “Really? You’re ok with that? I’m paying half the bills, I want to do this properly.” He kissed him. “Thank you for being so kind to me.”
“Ok with it? I’m fucking ecstatic! Getting to see this perfect ass whenever I want wondering around the apartment? Are you kidding!” Dean laughed like a teenager.
“Dean, I want you. Right here. Take me.” Jamie whispered. There foreheads touching.
The lust that had been restrained all evening was now flowing like a broken damn through Dean’s veins crashing into his cock. He kissed Jamie hard, frantic breaths and hands darting over heads. He pulled Jamie round, facing the Paris city scape, he pulled at Jamie’s trousers and pushed into him. It wasn’t organised, it wasn’t pre planned, it was a need taking them over. Raw.
Jamie clasped Dean’s head and pulled his hair. Gasps, clinking of champagne flutes, scuffing of loafers and wrenches of tailoring.
Dean moved desperately. Kisses were bites. Gentle hands turned to vices. Expensive suits. Forgotten.
“Fuck me Dean. Just fuck me.” Jamie took everything Dean pushed upon him. Dean’s power was his weakness. He gladly gave in. He wanted more. And more.
Dean whispered into Jamie’s ear. “You’re making me cum babe. Keep doing that.” Jamie pushed himself back hastily until Dean couldn’t hold himself any longer and gave out a desperate gasp, filling Jamie. Not just his champagne flute afterall.
They came to settle into a gentle sway. “Baby, you’re ass. I can’t handle myself.” Dean kissed his shoulder.
“You’re fantastic Dean. I can cum without even touching myself when I’m with you. You know how my body works already.” He reached round and kissed him again.
“I do my best to know everything.” He slapped Jamie’s bare behind and moved away and sat. Jamie followed. Dean had very quickly become used to Jamie never looking for a chair of his own. He happily without thinking, plonked himself on Dean’s lap.
“Jamie listen. I want you to know that you can be honest with me. I’ll learn to not get carried away and make sure I think about how things might affect you. But tell me when things get too much.” Dean wrapped his arm around Jamie’s body. He loved this body. Slight but powerful. Athletic but elegant. Perfect.
“I know you will. Me too, I’ll learn to make you happy too. I hope I do already a little bit.” He breathed in Dean’s hair. he could get lost up there, floating on the black waves.
“You already do. Shall we go to bed in Paris?” Dean spoke into Jamie’s neck.
“Yes. Take me to bed.” Jamie rose gently.
“Ave plaisir mon amour.” With pleasure, my love.
Next Morning
Dean was growing to understand Jamie even more day by day. An all consuming expedition into the world of his wild boy’s limits and wonderfully yet to be explored chaotic corners. He loved Jamie, that was established, he found himself angry that anyone could discard this complex, vulnerable and brilliantly minded boy.
Then, he thanked his lucky stars they had, otherwise this weekend would have never been a reality.
Dean had his own limits. He needed exercise to cleanse his head. He had his own anxieties that he buried. Sanding down their jagged edges through every movement. He didn’t feel complete without quiet time with his body as his tool. Physical results were a mere by product, it was his mind that needed the stretch, the lift, the sweat. His mind needed quieting too from time to time. While moving through his routine Dean smiled. He needed this, and Jamie needed to be quiet, resting his busyness, no distractions.
He’d arranged for breakfast to be delivered by 10. Let him sleep. Let him just be.
After the gym Dean arrived back at the suite and showered, throwing on a robe over his fresh briefs. He peeked over and Jamie was still out to the world. He giggled under his breath and moved to the terrace.
The door went, Dean bolted. “Thank you. Sorry my partner is just sleeping. I’ll take it from here.” He whispered to the member of staff.
He wheeled breakfast in quietly. Then he laughed. He hadn’t referred to Jamie as his partner before. It seemed to fit. More serious, more committed than boyfriend. He liked how it draped over them.
He poured coffee and went and sat on the terrace checking his emails on his iPad. Never completely switched off from work. His phone rang and he took the call.
Jamie woke stealthily. He felt bright and refreshed. He ignored the slight hang over, there was so much more to think about. So much had been said, he got up, charged and ready to go back to London, committed to making a future with Dean.
His Dean. Tall, smart, kind, achingly handsome, precious eyes, body and sexual appetite unmatched. He wanted him. I just want to shock him. I can take control in the sexual dynamics of us as well, Jamie thought.
Dean was deep in a conversation. Jamie bit his lip and squeezed the thick silk curtain. Dean’s chest was exposed. The dapple of black hair across it. His powerful thighs, splayed out. Jamie could set up camp there forever, beneath them. Like two huge oak trees giving him shade. His thick eyebrows furrowed with passion and concern for his job. Jamie wanted to pull him out of focus. Blur his lines a little.
He went to him. Looked at him hungrily. Dean began to stall on his call. He mouthed good morning at Jamie. Jamie smiled and kneeled. Dean let him, opening his legs. Jamie took Dean in his mouth. Greedily taking as much of Dean as he could. He looked up, encouraged by the sight. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, lust now, due diligence forgotten. Eyes staring down, mouth open, struggling to stay cohesive in his conversation. Snapping his head back in lieu of a gasp.
Dean leant forward, pushing Jamie onto him. Holding him. “Yeah Rich, I gotta go. Breakfast is here and Jamie’s hungry.” He hung up and flung his body back. “Fuck what a good morning. Keep going, you’ll make me bust any second.”
Jamie picked up his pace, Dean unloaded in his mouth. Jamie groaned and cleaned him up. He rose and kissed Dean. “Good morning big boy. That was a first morning of getting to say I love you, blowjob. Feels good doesn’t it?” Jamie grinned proudly into his face.
Dean was still composing himself. “You naughty boy. The best good morning I’ve ever had. Love you too. Eat please. There’s plenty here.” The irony of the statement was not lost on either of them.
Dean decided to take Jamie back down to the boutiques that lined the Triangle d’Or. He knew Jamie was surppressjng at least a gaze at all they had to offer.
They dressed the part. Dean wore a bottle green overcoat, thick grey trousers and a cashmere roll neck in black. Jamie opted for a leather blazer, grey suit trousers and black t shirt. He pulled out of his suitcase, a black Dior messenger bag.
“Are we going to have a problem here?” Dean asked. Half laughing half nervous.
“What? Why?” Jamie asked obliviously checking himself in the mirror.
“I’m not a fashion follower but that bag costs over two thousand pounds sterling.”
“Oh I didn’t buy this. It was a Christmas present from Mr and Mrs Arden. Or as I should say, Mr and Mrs Claus. Santa’s real remember Archer.”
A wave of relief swept over Dean. He knew labels, his mum grew an obsession over the same names Jamie drooled over, for decades. They’d get on dangerously he thought. He felt the need to expand, but making sure Jamie didn’t feel paranoid.
“I’m joking. Just you have a lot of expensive stuff Arden.” Dean tentatively explored the subject, knowing this could get delicate quickly. Jamie impressed him.
“I know. I’m very grateful for everything I have. If you must know, I try to source designer stuff from contacts in London. It’s the best place to get legit high end stuff but it’s usually majorly discounted or even preloved. I’m not a label whore Dean. Also, clothes is my thing. It’s something that makes me happy. Is that ok?” Jamie did his searching again accompanied by his insecure gesture of shrugging.
“Forget it. I’m not saying another word. It’s you. I love you. I’ll love your bags too. I wouldn’t know what to do with them but I’ll love them. They’re coming to live with me too. And please stop asking me if everything you do is ok. You are you. You’re completely ok.”
Jamie smiled. He felt seen and respected. So naturally he pushed it. “And before we get all judgmental about spending. I’m no fool. That beautiful Rolex Daytona on your wrist? Twenty thousand pounds sterling if I’m correct?”
“Christmas present from mum and dad. You’re right. I’ll shut up.” Dean mimed zipping his lips.
“Pot. Kettle. Have you met, Archer?” They laughed and went into Paris. Jamie’s Amex already creaking in his two thousand pound sterling bag
Triangle d’Or
“Oh god this place is so chic. Can we move here? We suit Paris. I could live in these boutiques and you could work in that office over there. You could watch me and cry at how much I’m spending. Doesn’t that sound like the dream?” Jamie was flying from window to window. Dean loved watching him.
“I don’t know about dream babe. Let’s start with London and see how we go.” Dean squeezed his shoulders. Then, there it was, Dean’s hand on his neck. Jamie froze.
“Dean.” He whispered.
“You ok?” Dean reacted. Almost a reflex.
“Yes. Completely. I’ve wanted to say this forever. When you put your hand at the back of my neck like that. I love it. It calms me when it needs to and makes me want you instantly the next. I can say that now. I love it. Never stop.” Then he was gone. Face squashed against a gallery.
Dean followed laughing. He wanted to keep a pen and paper on him to write down all the wonderful lines that flew out of Jamie’s mouth. Dean thought about it, Jamie’s head may have been busy, but it had such a wonderfully unblemished outlook on life. He should write. He’d bring it up at some point.
“We have a nic-nac. And for the record that’s so precious to me. I’d wear it if I could. But, I want us to get a piece of art. I’ll pay for it. But something to mark our weekend, our I love yous, the weekend you created for me. Can we go in and take a look? Nothing big but something?” Jamie put an arm round Dean’s waist. That was new.
Dean slowly put an arm round Jamie’s neck. His arm on his waist was a new manoeuvre from Jamie. It felt good. Perhaps he was becoming more comfortable with himself. Dean told himself to encourage it. Gradually, make him become the man he knows he can be.
“I agree. Are you sure you want that? If you’d rather go and by more shoes or bags that’s fine. We will share the cost too.” Dean wanted to be involved in the purchasing of memories.
“No. I want to. Shoes and bags get worn for a short time then end up in a cupboard for months or years on end. We’d get to look at a piece of art everyday. Wouldn’t that be the best? We’d look at it and see this weekend. Feel this weekend. Ten years from now. We’d still think about it. The day Dean said he loved me. I can’t wait.” Jamie let the prospect of ten years together fill the air between them. Dean was stunned.
“Ten years huh?” Dean squeezed him.
“Shit. I’m sorry. That was very presumptive. You might tire of me by then. I’m just happy, my mind runs with it. I’ll be quiet…” Jamie moved away from Dean toward the road.
Dean grabbed him. “Hey. Listen up. You’ve got to stop this. Stop apologising for being an optimist. You told me last night you were happy you could finally feel happy, so here it is. Embrace me. Fuck ten years, how about twenty, thirty? Truth is we don’t know what the future holds so we may as well make memories now. And for the record, I think it’s the sweetest idea for our apartment.” Dean wanted to put Jamie in his pocket. Protect him from anything negative that could infiltrate his endless pursuit of happiness.
“This is why I love you. I start to fall and you zoom in and catch me. Our apartment?” Jamie looked at him with questioning eyes.
“Well we love each other, we’re together. You have your key. You want to pay part of the bills. So yeah I’d say that it’s ours? Is that ok with you? Are comfortable with that?” Dean searched him for any clues to indicate he was overwhelmed.
“I love it. How exciting. I like the sound of thirty years too.” Jamie smiled and went back to the gallery. As was now becoming a routine, Dean trotted behind him giggling in his wake.
They decided on a watercolour of the Paris skyline. It reminded them of the view from their terrace. Eiffel Tower front and centre. There it was. Their I love you story immortalised in a hue of inky blues and delicate yellows. The backdrop to their momentous evening. Memories captured. And that would be the story they would tell.
