Valmont

≈ VALMONT ≈

 

 

~ A faithful servant ~

The Viscount of Valmont rose from the luxurious bathtub, letting the warm scented water drip down along his lean but chiseled body. He was wearing a white linen bath gown, like every well-mannered nobleman in Paris, in the year 1753, would’ve worn while bathing.

The bath gown was supposed to ensure a certain degree of decency; but truth to be told, the thin semi-transparent fabric clung to Valmont’s body in such a revealing way that the vision of him, standing in the bathtub, was more erotic than if he was completely naked.

And Valmont perfectly knew it.

Azolan, his servant, a muscular man in his early forties, moved closer to the tub holding a long brocade robe, to let the Viscount dry off, but Valmont didn’t move, and kept staring at himself in a tall mirror.

“I should stop taking so many horse rides… I’m becoming too muscular…” – Valmont said pensively, and without turning to his servant, he added: “What do you think, Azolan? Am I too bulky? Building muscles is so vulgar… I don’t want to look like a peasant!”

Azolan, who was a strong and bulky man, didn’t feel offended. After all he was a peasant, while his master was a Viscount.

“Monsieur le Vicomte” – Azolan respectfully replied – “if I may be bold, your body is just perfect as it is. When I follow you, walking the streets of Paris, I see the glances full of desire that all women throw at you. And more than a few men, as well...”

“You’re such a flatterer” – Valmont mused, contented – “But you must be mistaken… at least with regard to the attention I get from other men!”

“It’s no flattery, Monsieur, it’s true! Some men look at you with admiration, others with a covert desire, I can clearly tell the difference! After all, why shouldn’t they admire such a perfect example of masculine beauty?”

For the first time, Valmont looked at Azolan and pierced him with a deep, amused glance: “Are you lusting after me, Azolan?”

“Monsieur!! I… No, no! How can you think that, Monsieur!” – Azolan replied alarmed, with a horrified glance on his face, but unable to tear his gaze off his master’s virile body while he slowly climbed out of the bathtub.

“Don’t worry, Azolan, I’m well aware of the endless comings and goings of maids and kitchen servants from your room, at night. Sometimes even two at the same time… I know well you’re a stud, just be sure not to have them pregnant, as I’d hate to throw them out and find a replacement…”

“Oui, Monsieur” – Azolan replied in a low voice, while helping Valmont wear the long robe; through the mirror, Valmont looked at his servant with a knowing grin, spotting a hint of blush on his stubbled cheeks.

They were interrupted by a polite knock on the door, and the butler came in: “Monsieur le Vicomte, the Marquis of Merteuil asks for you, begging for your forgiveness for coming unannounced. He’s waiting in the fumoir.”

“I’m on my way” – Valmont replied, and the butler disappeared as silently as he came in. “Azolan! Quick! I still have to get shaved and dressed! It’ll take me more than an hour! I hate having Merteuil wait…!”

Azolan shot a knowing glance at his master and wore a mischievous grin: “Monsieur, do you remember what we just said about men looking at you with more admiration than decency would allow? See it with your own eyes. Receive the Marquis dressed like this and check his reaction…”

“Ha ha ha!! The Marquis of Merteuil? The man who’s laid half of the women in Paris? I reckon he’s made love to even more women than me… which is not an easy task to accomplish, Azolan!”

“He may have had more female lovers than you, Monsieur, but you… rumor has it that you pick flowers in both gardens… if you know what I mean.”

Valmont stopped in his tracks and asked: “And do you believe those rumors?”

Azolan slowly shook his head, still wearing a knowing grin: “I don’t lend a listening ear to rumors, Monsieur, as they often turn out to be true.”

“Ha ha ha!!!” – Valmont laughed out loud, amused – “You have a perverse mind, Azolan… which is why I like you so much! Well, then, let’s see what Merteuil will say about my attire!”

~ A quest for Valmont ~

“Merteuil!” – the Viscount jovially saluted, entering the fumoir – “I apologize for keeping you waiting…!”

“Don’t worry, Valm…” – the Marquis began to reply, but the voice died in his throat as soon as he lay his gaze over his friend. The long brocade robe didn’t have a belt, and the front opening gave to the guest a clear view of Valmont’s chiseled body, as well as his manly attributes, erotically half-hidden under the wet bath gown. Merteuil gulped down a couple times, before finding enough voice to murmur: “I… I’m terribly sorry, Valmont, I should have not barged in this way, unannounced. I see you were still doing your morning toilette… I… uhm… didn’t expect you to show up so… erm… underdressed.”

“Yes, thank god we’re both men” – Valmont replied with nonchalance, pretending not to notice the twitch in Merteuil’s pants and the covert adjustment he made with his hand to conceal his arousal – “But let’s sit in the drawing room and have a nice tea.”

They moved to the adjacent room, and sat at a small round dining table; the Marquis inwardly sighed, now that both his own and Valmont’s lower bodies were out 0f sight.

“I need your help, Valmont. Do you remember my cousin, Madame de Volange? She has a son, Cécil, he just came of age, but he’s still… how can I say… as pure as a fleur-de-lis, he knows nothing of the world, due to the strict education he received. And yet, young as he is, he’s soon going to be married.”

“Oh…” – Valmont replied bored – “And who’s the lucky girl who will soon marry the fleur-de-lis?”

“Madamoiselle De Villancourt…”

Valmont’s eyes suddenly lit up: “Wait… That M.lle de Villancourt? The only woman in Paris who dared to reject your advances? Stupid girl, I’m glad she will get as a husband a little brat who doesn’t even know where to start, when it comes to pleasure a woman…”

“But I want more than that.” – Merteuil said with restrained anger – “I want her husband not to ever touch her with a single finger, making her the laughing-stock of the entire Paris! You see, I know for sure that a… how can I say it… a dangerous liaison has sprouted between Cécil and his music teacher, the Chevalier de Danceny, a young nobleman who unfortunately owns nothing but his striking handsomeness and his knighthood.”

“I see…” – Valmont replied, amused by the intriguing gossip – “but what’s that got to do with me?”

“Danceny is a stupid, he’s a romantic sweetheart who lives for the arts, and at twenty-one years of age he’s still convinced that a bed is only made to sleep. Their affaire has been going on for a while, so far, but at this pace Cécil will be six feet under at Pére-Lachaise before Danceny makes his move. I need you, Valmont, to… instruct Danceny, to nudge him into laying Cécil and make him discover his true nature and enjoy it so much that he’ll want to give up altogether on womanly love. And I need this to happen before the marriage takes place, in three months. I want M.lle De Villancourt to get, on his first night, no more than a kiss on his forehead! On the first night and all the following ones, until death parts them!”

Valmont shot an inquisitive glance at his friend: “I understand you’re seeking revenge, and I applaud your scandalous plan, but… what makes you think I’m interested in playing a part… any part, in an affaire involving two other men?”

“I know how strong your appetites are, and I… I heard rumors about you… uhm… enjoying every side of love.”

Valmont didn’t confirm nor denied it, he just asked: “And do you think those rumors are true?”

The Marquis of Merteuil nervously glanced around, then lowered his gaze to the floor and replied in a small voice: “I do hope so.”

There was a sort of double meaning in Merteuil’s last sentence, Valmont thought, as it wasn’t clear whether a possible interest of Valmont in male company was just connected to the devious plan regarding Cécil and Danceny, or Merteuil had an unconfessed personal desire. So, Valmont flashed a sardonic smile and replied: “All right, I’ll do what you ask. But there’s a price to pay.”

A… price?” – Merteuil said, surprised – “You can’t possibly talk about money, so… what is the price?”

“You. Your body. Your derriére.”

Merteuil blushed bright red, then went pale, and blushed again: “You… You can’t ask me that… You know that I… I don’t play that game!”

“The rules are simple, you’ll learn them very quickly, granted.”

After a long pause, the Marquis of Merteuil looked straight at his friend with a fire in his eyes, a fire that could be desire, or anger, or both. “All right. You do what I ask, and I’ll do what you ask. Turn young Cécil into a slut craving for a manly touch, and I’ll give you one night of passion. A single night during which I will completely surrender myself to your every desire. It’ll be an unforgettable night that will never happen again. Do we have a deal?”

“We do have a deal” – Valmont said, standing up to shake hands with Merteuil; once again, the brocade robe parted to the front, and Valmont clearly spotted his friend’s gaze shamefully lingering on his crotch…

~ Putting a plan into action ~

After less than a week, the detailed plan that Valmont had devised to fulfil Merteuil's assignment was in full swing. Valmont was travelling to his secret pied-a-terre just outside of Paris, at a secluded location that only he himself and his most loyal servants knew. He was sitting in his luxurious coach-and-four, silently looking at Chevalier Danceny, sitting in front of him.

Danceny was young, Valmont pondered, but there was a natural masculinity blossoming in him. His dark rebel hair, the dark shadow on his cheeks that the face powder couldn’t conceal, his wide chest and his deep gaze were those of a man with a capital 'M'. Only, he didn't know, yet.

“Vicomte, if I may ask...” – Danceny murmured, nervous – “Where are we going? Why all this secrecy?”

“We’re going... well, you are going to a rendez-vous with a person very dear to your heart” – Valmont replied, and then made a dramatic pause, savoring the sudden alarm lighting up Danceny’s gaze – “Cécil Volanges”.

Danceny blushed and stifled a gasp, to then add in a small voice: “So, you know...”

“Mon cher Chevalier, there’s no need to feel embarrassed or alarmed. Yes, I know about you and Cécil and I can’t be happier about that”. Danceny’s glance, full of relief and thankfulness, made Valmont smile: “I spent my entire life trying to keep my mind open and not be misled by stupid prejudices... or stupid moral qualms. Love is love, no matter the sex of the lovers. All I ask you is to do the same: keep your mind open, tonight, and leave your worries out of the door. Follow my lead, trust me, let me guide you, and I’ll grant you a better experience than in your wildest dreams.”

While Valmont and Danceny traveled toward their destination, Cécil was already at the secret cottage, nervously watching Antoine, one of the most trustworthy among Valmont’s servants. Antoine was a tall and muscular black man originally from Saint-Dominque; he was wearing an impeccable livery, whose tight pants did nothing to conceal a massive manhood. When Antoine started unbuttoning Cécil’s elaborate dress, the boy asked, uncertain: “Is it really necessary?”

Antoine wore a knowing grin: “If you want to win your handsome knight’s heart, you have to blind him with your beauty, and clothes are just an annoying hindrance. Trust me, Monsieur. I’ve had precise instructions from the Vicomte de Valmont himself”. Though reluctantly, Cécil let the dark-skinned valet undress him, until he was fully naked. His face was as red as burning embers.

“Lie on the bed, rest your back on the pillows, slightly bend a leg…” – Antoine instructed – “Yes, perfect. Oh, just in time: I hear the Viscount’s coach arriving. Stay there and don’t move. Believe me, Monsieur, you’re a vision that can enflame any man’s heart.”

With a last comforting smile, Antoine disappeared behind a side door, bringing Cécil’s clothes with him. No more than a minute later, the main door opened and Danceny entered the bedroom, followed by Valmont. Danceny’s eyes widened, looking at Cécil languidly lying on the bed, naked, with a satin sheet barely covering one leg and his groin. The boy’s rosy cheeks and the modesty in his eyes were just irresistible.

“Ch... Chevalier...” – Cécil began, blushing even more, but Valmont interrupted him: “Shh, no, let’s not speak useless words. This is a magic moment you should savor in silence. Other senses than your hearing must guide you tonight”. Danceny was so caught by the sight of his lover that he didn’t notice Valmont slowly undressing him to his underpants; only when Valmont pulled down the loose undergarment, completely unveiling his virile body to Cécil, Danceny gasped and tried to modestly cover himself with his hands.

With firm gentleness, Valmont pulled Danceny’s hands away from his body: “Let your lover look at you, let his eyes feast on your gorgeous body. You can see with your own eyes how passionate his reaction is...”

As a matter of fact, Cécil virility had instantly come to life, while exploring with his eyes his lover’s enticing naked body. “Now I’m going to leave you alone...” – Valmont said softly, and took a step aside, but Danceny held him by his arm: “Vicomte, je vous en prie... I... I still need your guidance... I shouldn’t really ask you, but... can you stay? Please?”

Valmont hid a lustful grin behind the most innocent smile he was capable of: “Of course I can stay, if this is what you want”. And with these words, he started undressing under the rapt eyes of both young men, who sighed at the sight of Valmont’s chiseled chest, covered with just the right amount of dark hair, his taut abdomen and his remarkable manhood. After putting up his enticing show for the young men, Valmont climbed on the ample bed and slowly pulled the satin sheet away, revealing the last bits of Cécil’s boyish body. He was eighteen years old, but his naïve glance, his hairless body and his rosy cheeks, enflamed by the anxiety and the desire, made him look even younger.

“Raise and bend your legs” – Valmont suggested to Cécil – “Hold your legs with your hands, and offer to your lover what he craves for...”

When Cécil’s rosebud opened up under Danceny’s eyes, he couldn’t stay put, irresistibly beckoned toward the object of his desire; he climbed on the bed and lay there, on his belly, taking a close look at his lover’s most private sanctuary. His heart thumped hard. Feeling almost overwhelmed by the erotic situation, he stood still, unsure what to do next.

“Kiss your lover’s bud” – Valmont said in a soothing voice – “He needs to be prepared, he needs to know you care for him... Yes, this way... Now use your tongue... Lick it all around... and now open the boy’s secret door with the tip of your tongue...”

“Oh mon dieu!!” – Cécil gasped loud when he felt Danceny’s tongue intruding into his tight hole, gently forcing it open and making it wet. Danceny stopped, alarmed: “Am I hurting you?”, and Cécil almost screamed: “God no, don’t stop!!”

Valmont smiled, seeing Danceny now munching with passion on his lover’s ass, while Cécil squirmed on the bed, prey of the strongest physical sensations his young body had ever experienced. Slowly, Valmont reached to the nightstand and took a small jar of perfumed oil: “Here, Danceny, dip your fingers into this jar... Your lover needs more than your passionate tongue... Smear the scented oil all around his puckered hole... Yes... and now penetrate him with your finger... Slowly... Slide it back and forth, spread the oil inside... Now take some more oil and use two fingers... Don’t worry, you’re not hurting him... Look at his face, at his expression of pure delight...”

Cécil was indeed ecstatic, feeling Danceny’s cautious fingers explore places inside him that no one, not even himself, had ever touched. But his expression morphed to a restrained anxiety when, after a while, he heard Valmont say: “He’s ready, Danceny. It’s about time you take your lover’s virginity...”

~ Picking the fleur-de-lis ~

Danceny’s manhood, that so far had throbbed wildly, spurred by the erotic ‘preparation’ of Cécil’s ass, suddenly deflated: “I... I’m not sure I can, Monsieur... I have no experience, I would hurt him, and I just can’t hurt the guy I dearly love...”

Valmont, whose dick had not lost a fraction of his stiffness, feigned an innocent, friendly expression and suggested: “Do you want me to break him in? I mean... to help him be ready for you?”

“Oui Monsieur...” – was Danceny’s feeble reply, and Valmont rose on his knees, presenting his thick veiny cock to the young knight: “I’ll do it, but I need to be prepared, too. Spread some oil on my member, make the entire shaft slick and massage it until I’m ready...”

Danceny didn’t expect it; never in his life had his hands touched another man’s virility, and doing that to Valmont felt almost outrageous... but incredibly erotic, too. He dipped his fingers into the jar and cautiously started caressing Valmont’s member, from the tip to the base; then took some more oil and curled his palm around the stiff shaft. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the incredible sensations radiating from his hand; Valmont’s manhood was incredibly hot, heavy in his hand, and felt both hard and soft at the same time. With growing confidence, Danceny started stroking the long shaft back and forth, smiling with excitement at hearing Valmont’s groans of pleasure. His hand sped up, gripped the hard rod with more determination, and he even dared to look straight into Valmont’s eyes, to enjoy the pleasure that lit them up.

“I’m ready...” – Valmont said after a short while, and suddenly added, seeing Danceny moving to the edge of the bed: “No, stay. I’m doing this for you. Hold my member and point it to Cécil’s hole...”

Danceny faltered for a moment, as the whole idea of... helping Valmont make love to Cécil was way too much for his narrow mind, but he just couldn’t say no to the man who’d done so much for him, and was about to do even more. Valmont took position between Cécil’s splayed legs and let Danceny drive his manhood toward its target, Cécil’s quivering virgin boy-hole.

“Now hold my manhood firmly and guide it through the tight passage” – Valmont instructed Danceny, and then turned his attention to Cécil, who was barely breathing: “Relax, my boy... Open your door for me... Show me how much you want me inside you... Yes... Relax a little more...”

“NNNGGHH!!!” – Cécil groaned through his gritted teeth, when Valmont’s large mushroom head broke into his unexplored depths, causing him a sharp pang of pain. “It’s all right, my boy, breath... I’ll wait until you’re ready... Danceny, kiss him, caress him, show him how much you love him, soothe his pain with the warmth of your lips...”

Danceny didn’t need to be told twice; he placed a caring hand on Cécil’s cheek and leaned over him, locking their lips in a cautious, but passionate kiss. He casually brushed his fingers on Cécil’s nipple, and when the boy responded with a muffled moan and arched his chest, Danceny intensified his massage, tickling and pinching the stiff nub relentlessly, making the boy squirm in ecstasy.

Valmont didn’t waste the chance and sank his entire member into the boy’s quivering depths, making him moan even louder. Cécil got totally lost in the overwhelming experience, swept away by the many overlapping sensations, his tender flesh pierced by Valmont’s fiery rod, his sensitive nipples tortured by Danceny’s fingers and his mouth filled, almost violated by his lover’s greedy tongue.

“MMMPPHH!!!” – Cécil groaned loud, while his young unruly dick, still untouched, throbbed hard and erupted in a spontaneous and unstoppable ejaculation. Danceny recoiled and watched in amazement his lover’s dick throbbing helplessly, and felt the urge to curl his fingers around it and stroke it in earnest, feeling it pulse inside his fist.

Cécil went wild, when the additional pleasure wreaked havoc on his inexperienced, sensitive body. His anal rings madly gripped around Valmont’s cock, forcefully milking it and bringing Valmont, almost against his will, to the edge of the precipice.

“Merde…!” – Valmont groaned, gritting his teeth and putting a herculean effort to hold back his orgasm; between the sheets, Valmont was always the undisputed ruler, and he just couldn’t let an inexperienced boy make him cum before he decided it was time. Danceny was watching him with wide, reverent eyes, admiring his control and his sheer manliness, so Valmont had no choice but to withstand the storm and forcefully subdue his pleasure. When Cécil, at long last, relaxed and stopped squirming, Valmont pulled out, panting.

Danceny was puzzled: “Why have you restrained yourself, Monsieur?”

Valmont didn’t want to disclose his innermost secrets, and feigned a romantic smile: “It’s not my manly seed that should first bathe your lover’s depths. It’s time for you to take ownership of this boy’s heart and body, and seal your bond with the essence of your love.”

After seeing Valmont make passionate love to Cécil, Danceny had no more hesitations or doubts: he looked down at his lover’s hole, now a bit loosened but still untainted by a man’s seed, and let his passion rage. Thankfully, Valmont’s break-in had prepared Cécil’s hole to the penetration, because Danceny couldn’t stop himself, he slammed his rock-hard member ball deep into Cécil’s ass and started pounding him with all the ardor of his twenty-one years.

Cécil, far from feeling violated, looked with wide eyes his beloved Chevalier, thinking that he’d never seen him as manly as he was in that moment, giving free rein to his pent-up lust, after years spent restraining himself. “Harder… Harder!” – the boy exclaimed, delirious – “Take me, Danceny! I’m yours! Yours!”

Valmont, too, was surprised by Danceny’s sudden explosion of virility, though he knew that the higher the flames are, the shorter the fire lasts. As expected, it took Danceny no more than five minutes to howl his pleasure and flood Cécil’s loosened hole with gallons of thick manly cream.

When the only sounds in the room were the pants of the two young lovers, Valmont stifled a groan, feeling his own cock ache, desperate for release. Danceny looked at him, at his manly torso glistening with sweat and his member swelling and throbbing, and thought he just couldn’t repay Valmont’s selfless sacrifice making him leave without getting satisfaction.

Gulping down his blossoming dominant attitude, Danceny closed his eyes and leaned to Valmont’s groin, tentatively opening his mouth. He didn’t want to do it, every fiber of his being refused to do it, but Valmont deserved it, and Danceny knew what his duty was.

He was about to engulf Valmont’s cock with his unwilling mouth when Cécil broke the silence: “Danceny… please… let me do it. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Are you sure?” – Danceny asked, and Cécil dispelled his doubts with his excited smile: “I’m more than sure…”

The boy almost pounced on Valmont, a fiery desire glaring in his eyes, and closed his lips around the man’s bloated mushroom head, savoring for the first time the taste of a man. Instinctively, without even thinking, he pushed his head forward, taking inch by inch the throbbing shaft into his mouth; and when the wide glans hit the back of his throat he didn’t stop, and pushed harder, letting the fiery rod slide inside his gullet. He didn’t gag or choke once.

And then he started bobbing madly on Valmont’s rod, letting the wide head crash through his tight throat muscles over and over. “You’re a natural, boy!” – Valmont praised him, surprised – “Few men have the gift of totally lacking a gag reflex, and you have… oooohhh!... the most delicious mouth I’ve ever felt around my manhood! Don’t stop…! Keep going… Yes… YESSSS!”

The first rope of man juice went down Cécil’s throat without him even realizing; but when the boy felt the thick member pulse into his mouth, his only desire was to taste Valmont’s essence; so he recoiled, but just a bit, to let the man flood his mouth with his creamy juice. Cécil’s rosy lips were sealed around the pulsing shaft, and he sucked hard, rolling his tongue around Valmont’s sensitive glans, making him howl for the additional pleasure.

Valmont, delirious, grabbed Cécil’s head with both hands and shoved his throbbing cock all the way down the boy’s throat, to spurt his last drops of sperm.

“You’re a force of nature…” – he commented, trying hard to catch his breath after the wrecking orgasm – “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I… I don’t know…” – Cécil replied, modestly lowering his gaze – “I just let my desire guide my body…”

“Today you’ve taken a big step into a new life, my boy” – Valmont replied, getting off the bed – “and it won’t be the last one. But it’s getting late…” – he added looking at Danceny – “Antoine will show you the bathroom, and my coach will bring you home. Good night Chevalier. I’ll personally drive Cécil home in my other coach.”

“Good night, Vicomte. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you’ve done for us. You have my imperishable gratitude.”

With a polite bow, that looked elegant even if he was completely naked, Danceny took his leave and went out. Valmont, cleaning himself with a towel, looked down at Cécil, still lying exhausted on the bed, and said with a mischievous grin: “I know you got the best education, but I’m quite sure your mother didn’t educate you about this specific subject, did she?”

“Maman?” – Cécil giggled – “She couldn't possibly talk about anything of the sort!”

“I can’t understand why.” – Valmont commented casually – “If my memory serves me well, she was quite… popular, before you were born. What she lacked in beauty, she compensated with an unrestrained fantasy between the sheets…”

“Maman??” – Cécil exclaimed again, bursting in laughter. Valmont laughed a bit along with the boy, but then became more serious: “I was not joking, earlier. You need to take many more steps to fully explore and enjoy your blossoming passion. Now I’m taking you home, but in two days I want you to come back here, and I’ll… improve your education further.”

“You mean… without Danceny?”

“Without Danceny, yes. I’ll tell you why, when we meet again, but now it’s very late, you should already be home.”

~ Cécil’s education ~

Two days later, Valmont was nervously pacing the boudoir of his secluded cottage, his long robe flapping around him, revealing his toned naked body underneath. Cécil was late, and the Viscount feared that the boy had a second thought about improving his ‘education’, or moral qualms regarding doing something unbeknownst to Danceny. But just when he was losing hope, the door opened and Cécil came in. He gasped, looking at Valmont’s virile and almost naked body, and shyly averted his gaze, blushing like a maiden on his first marriage night.

Before Valmont could say anything, Cécil murmured: “I don’t want to give up on Danceny. I love him. I can’t live without him.”

“And you’ll live a life full of love and pleasure with him” – Valmont replied, smiling at the boy’s naivety – “but unfortunately you do not have the luxury of being exclusive. You’re going to get married, if I’m not mistaken, and not to Danceny. You can give your name to your wife and your heart to your beloved knight, if you so wish, but your body… you can give it to anyone you like, whenever you like and as often as you like. Besides, I guess you want to make Danceny happy, don’t you?”

“Why, yes! His happiness is everything to me!”

“And how do you hope to make him happy, without any experience whatsoever, when it comes to loving a man? Come, let me help undress you, and tonight I’ll teach you some more ways to give a breathtaking pleasure to your handsome knight…”

Cécil let Valmont start to undress him, but he was still unsure: “Vicomte… When we made love, last night, I felt… not like a man should feel. It was incredibly erotic, but I felt weak, submissive, I offered my most secret and private recesses to you and Danceny, and… I don’t know… I felt I was betraying my masculinity…”

Valmont finished stripping Cécil and gently guided him to the bed, smiling with affection: “Weak, you say? No, my young friend, you can’t be farther from the truth. You were more of a man than Danceny and me. It’s way too easy for a man to shove his virile member into a hole: that alone can’t possibly qualify him as a man. You, on the other hand, trusted us, opened your heart to us, and above all you offered us your body, for the first time in your life; you didn’t wimp out, you pursued your desire with a courage and a selflessness that few men possess. You could easily take my place, if you wanted to; but I could never take your place, it’s something I just can’t let myself do. You’re stronger than me, and I have the utmost admiration and respect for you.”

“Is it really so?” – Cécil exclaimed, suddenly happy and proud of the high praise – “In that case… uhm… didn’t you say you wanted to teach me something?”

“Yes, my boy…” – Valmont growled, sensually, kneeling astride Cécil’s head and pointing his stiffening manhood to his rosy lips – “And I think we should start with some Latin terms…”

And so, Cécil’s intensive course in man-love began that night, between the sheets of Valmont’s boudoir; and there were many more lessons after that first one. Truth to be told, Cécil proved to be an enthusiastic pupil, and was always eager to practice with Valmont any possible sexual game and position, without ever shying off, not even when Valmont introduced in their lessons weird sexual tools and scary restraints. Night after night, slowly pushing the boy’s boundaries, Valmont, true to his promise, turned the naïve and innocent ‘fleur-de-lis’ into… how did Merteuil say?... ‘a slut craving for a man’s touch’.

~ One last step ~

But such an intensive course required a graduation exam. On the last night before Cécil’s marriage, Valmont received the boy fully clothed, much to his surprise and puzzlement.

As usual, Valmont helped Cécil get naked and pushed him onto the bed, but this time, instead of disrobing, he pulled a satin cord next to the bed. In a few moments, the door opened and Valmont’s loyal servants, Antoine and Azolan, came in, wearing nothing but a lustful grin.

“W… What…?” – Cécil gasped, panicking and desperately trying to cover himself with the satin sheets; but at the same time he couldn’t stop devouring the two men with his eyes.

Antoine was tall, dark-skinned, confident; he looked elegant even naked and his sincere dark eyes promised sweet, sublime love and breathtaking pleasure. And the long black manhood dangling between his thighs made Cécil’s desire rage.

Azolan, on the other hand, was bulky, muscular, very hairy; he had a rough, almost vulgar demeanor, and his lustful grin talked about dominance and wild sex. Cécil’s determination wavered, looking at the thickness of Azolan’s member.

“Vicomte… I thought you were the one to teach me, and no one else…! Are you going to let these men… lay with me one after another?”

“Both at the same time, actually” – Valmont mused, and when Cécil’s eyes widened in disbelief, he added: “Do you remember the first time we made love, here, with Danceny? What was the most exciting and amazing moment for you?”

Cécil recalled to his mind the incredible night when he lost his virginity and replied, shyly: “It was… err… when you hit your climax and flooded my mouth. You almost roared for the pleasure you were feeling, and I felt… alive, incredibly aroused and proud of myself, for being able to give you, an experienced lover, such a mind-blowing pleasure.”

“I guessed as much.” – Valmont smiled – “Most men, including myself, just enjoy their own pleasure, but not you: your pleasure comes from your man’s pleasure, and that’s sublime. But it takes training, because each man has his own way of making love, has his own desires and inclinations. Some may give you pleasure, in return of your selfless efforts, some may give you pain, but you won’t falter, you’ll give all of yourself to them, because that’s what you live for: giving pleasure to men.”

“Enough talking” – Azolan rudely interrupted, and climbed on the bed, massaging his own thickening cock; Valmont was utterly pissed off by his servant’s unpardonable lack of respect, but decided not to retaliate, at least for the moment, because he was impatient to witness Cécil’s ultimate descent into sluttiness.

Azolan was not a man of finesse, not at all. As a matter of fact, he was a ladies’ man (though his ‘ladies’ were anything but ladies, truth to be told), but he thought that a boy hole could be fun, for a change, and was eager to taste the novelty. He forcefully grabbed Cécil’s legs and pulled them up and apart, making the boy’s rosebud blossom between the peachy buttocks.

Azolan spat a couple times on two fingers and unceremoniously shoved them into Cécil’s tight hole, making him groan for the sudden discomfort. “Sorry, boy, I’m used to wet loose cunts. Your tightness won’t last long, anyway…”, Azolan hastily concluded, pressing his humongous cock on the boy’s clenched anal ring.

“No wait, I’m not sure…” – Cécil tried to object, scared by the size of Azolan’s manhood, but Valmont bent down to his face and said in a soothing, almost hypnotic tone: “If this is what your man wants to give you, you’ll take it, because his pleasure is your pleasure.”

Azolan thrusted his hips forward, his formidable muscles easily winning the boy’s inner resistance, and broke into the tight passage. Cécil let out a high-pitched scream that was quickly muffled by Valmont’s dominant mouth. Azolan started pumping his mighty tool in and out, with long powerful strokes, stretching Cécil’s insides at their limit; at first the boy resisted, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, but then Valmont said: “Open your eyes, look at your man… Can you see the sheer pleasure he’s taking from your body? Can you see the surprise and the ecstasy on his face? That’s what you can do, boy. You have this gift. Accept Azolan without reserves, let him ravage your body, if this is what he needs, but don’t deny him the sheer pleasure he’s now feeling…”

Azolan was indeed ecstatic, his eyes often rolled back, while his massive cock crashed over and over through the tight anal rings. And as Valmont had said, he was surprised, too, discovering for the first time how different and more pleasurable was making love to a man, rather than to a woman.

Cécil, looking at Azolan’s rapt expression, felt a fire spread inside him, and gave all of himself to that strong, rough man who only asked for one thing: pleasure. And his pleasure was infectious, because quickly Cécil felt his inner fire coalesce into his own groin, making his dick swell and throb like it was a live animal.

Valmont realized that Cécil was on the verge of the abyss and put a hand on Azolan’s furry abs: “Give the boy a break, make him breathe…”

With a visible effort, Azolan complied, slowing down his thrusts to a relaxed fuck, but he didn’t stop. Valmont shot him a praising grin, and playfully brushed his other hand on Azolan’s hairy ass, making him squirm to evade the unwanted touch. He might be fucking a boy, but he was still a man, and no one was going to violate his back sanctuary, not even his master!

Valmont giggled at Azolan’s reaction and nodded to Antoine, who was waiting at the foot of the bed, slowly stroking his black beast, which by now was fully hard. Following his master’s silent command, Antoine climbed on the bed and straddled Cécil’s face, with obvious intentions.

“Monsieur… I… I can’t possibly take them both at the same time…” – Cécil gasped, looking at Valmont, who shot a comforting smile: “If there’s one who can do it, it’s you. Never doubt your strength, my boy. If giving pleasure to one man is exciting for you, giving pleasure to two men at once will be mind-blowing…”

Though still doubtful, Cécil slowly took Antoine’s tip into his mouth and bathed it with his tongue. He was used to dealing with black men, there were plenty in Paris, and sometimes Cécil had even fantasized about them; but sucking Antoine’s long dark-skinned rod was so exciting that he felt his head spin.

“Ooohh… Monsieur…” – Antoine moaned – “Your mouth is like velvet…”

Spurred by Antoine’s respectful but passionate praise, Cécil grabbed the man’s buttocks with both hands and pulled his face toward his groin, slowly taking inch after inch of his manhood inside his mouth. Once more Valmont was sincerely in awe at how gracefully Cécil could take such a long cock inside him, making it effortlessly slide down his gullet, without ever gagging once.

When Cécil’s tight throat muscles gripped around Antoine’s sensitive glans, the black valet moaned loudly and tilted his head back, unable to stop his hips from pushing his cock deeper, until his low-hanging balls slapped on the boy’s chin.

At a silent signal from Valmont, Azolan paced up his fuck, starting again reaming Cécil’s ass with powerful thrusts. Cécil couldn’t even gasp, with his throat completely filled up by Antoine’s black snake and had to silently withstand the double onslaught. For a moment, he thought he couldn’t stand the force of the two greedy members pumping in and out with powerful thrusts; but then he heard both Antoine and Azolan moan loud, lost in their pleasure and he suddenly felt confident and proud, able as he was to give such a delight to those older and experienced men.

Cécil felt delirious, feeling Azolan’s cock crash into his sensitive prostate over and over, and Antoine’s balls slap on his chin at every thrust. By now, Antoine was literally fucking Cécil’s mouth, steadying himself on the bed headboard, and Azolan had lost any residual care and was shoving his thick member at a madly pace into Cecil’s once-tight hole. Cécil was trying hard to hold back his own orgasm, as he wanted the men to be the first to cum; but let out a squeal when he felt Valmont’s hands taking possession of his nipples and his throbbing dick.

“No no no…!” – he tried to warn, but his mouth was too full of hard meat to articulate words; and anyway, Valmont had no intention to relent. Slowly, but with firm determination, Valmont stroked Cécil’s member and tickled his nipples, enjoying the sight of the boy’s abs stiffen and squirm, in the desperate effort to avoid the unavoidable.

“Finish him” – Valmont calmly ordered his servants, who soon howled and grunted, flooding all of Cécil’s orifices with thick man cream. That was the last straw. A long high-pitch gurgle came from Cécil’s overstretched throat, and his stiff dick erupted like a geyser, shooting a fountain of slick sperm that pooled on his abdomen and filled his navel.

Despite being firmly impaled on both ends on Antoine’s and Azolan’s rock-hard rods, Cécil bucked hard and went on spurting all the juice his young loins could give, and more.

Antoine was the first to pull out, letting the boy take a long ragged breath that ended in a satisfied sigh. When Azolan recoiled, as roughly as he first went in, Cécil felt a sense of emptiness that for a moment veiled his handsome feature; but when he glanced at the two men and spotted on their faces the last remnants of the wild pleasure they’d just experienced, the boy smiled, happy and proud for what he was able to give them.

“You graduated with honor, young man!” – Valmont praised him, dismissing with an imperious nod his servants – “I have nothing more to teach you. Now refresh yourself and get dressed. Tomorrow you have a marriage to attend…”

Cécil frowned: “Monsieur… I… I don’t really feel like getting a wife… I mean, what should I do on our first night? I am not inclined to make love to her, it’s not… my nature.”

“Then don’t make love to her” – Valmont replied in a practical tone – “No one forces you. Until tomorrow, you’re under your mother’s control, but tomorrow you’ll be your own man, you’ll decide for yourself, and you’ll give your delicious body only to those you feel to make love with. Be respectful to your wife, if you can, and don’t be too harsh with her when, sooner or later, she finds herself a lover; but you’re not bound to give her more than a goodnight kiss before going to bed.”

“Thank you, Monsieur!” – Cécil replied, blushing and throwing himself into the arms of an embarrassed Valmont – “You’ll always be… dear to my heart.”

“My boy, you touch this old heart with your words…” – Valmont replied, feigning an affectionate tone but intimately annoyed by Cécil's burst of devotion – “But now go, it’s very late. Antoine will drive you home.”

~ Erotic punishment ~

As soon as Cécil had gone away, Valmont’s features lit up with a mischievous expression. Every man that night had their share of pleasure, but not Valmont, he was still dressed and, truth to be told, madly horny.

He quickly disrobed and wore a long embroidered robe over his naked body, stormed out of the boudoir and strode to the servants’ quarters. He barged into Azolan’s room and pointed a finger at him, hissing with fake restrained anger: “How dare you!”

“M… Monsieur?” – Azolan gasped, still naked and sweaty – “Didn’t I do what you wanted me to do?”

“I was talking! I was teaching to the boy, and you uncouthly shut me up because you couldn’t wait to shove your cock into the boy’s ass! Such unpardonable insolence! You’ll get a harsh punishment for that! Follow me!”

Azolan, scared by his master’s burst of anger, immediately followed him to a usually locked room he’d never been before. The walls were bare, except for a couple leather lashes hanging from rusty hooks, and there were ropes hanging from the ceiling and bolted to the floor.

“Monsieur, I’m terribly sorry…” – Azolan murmured, scared, but Valmont went on playing his part: “Shut up! It’s been decades since this room was last used, but you deserve a harsh punishment! Raise your hands and part your legs!”

Azolan had no choice but to promptly comply, and with a few quick movements Valmont secured the servant’s limbs to the ropes, in a wide spread-eagle position. Azolan never felt more vulnerable, but he was a sturdy man, and soldiered on. After all, he’d already received occasional lashes, from his previous masters, and was determined not to humiliate himself by whining or pleading for mercy.

Valmont moved to the back of the restrained servant and reached around his wide muscular torso, placing his hands on the man’s bulging pecs and languidly brushing his palms on the man’s furry abdomen. Azolan squirmed, unsuccessfully trying to evade the unwanted intimate touch, but the ropes kept him in his vulnerable position.

Azolan felt his master’s greedy hands roam his torso, exploring with tender determination every crease and every bulge of the toned chest; when the fingers moved up to his nipples and started flicking them with vicious insistence, Azolan restrained a moan of surprised pleasure. He didn’t want his master to abuse his body in such an immodest way, but much to his own astonishment, his body was coming alive under the experienced touch.

“Monsieur…” – he tried to say, but Valmont shushed him: “Not a word”. Valmont’s voice didn’t sound angry anymore to Azolan’s ear, it was calm but authoritarian, as if Valmont was reminding him who was the master and who was the servant.

But when Valmont’s hands moved to take possession of Azolan’s proud buttocks, the man couldn’t stay put any more and squirmed hard: “Monsieur! Please, stop…! I thought you were going to whip me…”

“I’m going to, as a matter of fact” – Valmont mused, letting his robe fall to the floor and pressing his naked body against Azolan’s – “but not with the lashes hanging from the walls…”

“Monsieur, no! Je vous en prie, Monsieur! Don’t do that to me!”

Valmont pressed harder his body against Azolan’s back, making him clearly feel his stiffening manhood against his muscular buttocks, and started roaming again Azolan’s torso with his hands. Not a single sensitive inch of Azolan’s body was spared: his turgid nipples, his taut abdomen, his furry chest, his twitching thighs. And then Valmont went to claim his prize: he lowered his hands to Azolan’s groin and felt his irrepressible erection pulse into his palm.

Azolan was quietly panting, with his eyes closed; he had long stopped squirming, and was submissively accepting his master’s sensual caresses, but his twitching muscles told Valmont that he still was fighting.

He withdrew his hands and pressed his groin harder on Azolan’s ass, burying his stiff member between the hairy mounds of Azolan’s buttocks. “Monsieur…” – Azolan weakly murmured, and Valmont interrupted him, talking with a warm, friendly tone that Azolan had never heard from him: “No, Azolan. This once, in the secret of this room, call me just Valmont. Here, I’m not your master and you’re not my servant, we’re just two men. I won’t order you and you’re not bound to obey me. I swear. One word from you, one single word, and you’re free to go.”

“Please…” – Azolan breathed and Valmont leaned to his ear and whispered in an utmost sensual tone: “Tell me your plea, and it will be granted in full…”

“Please… take me, Monsieur. Take me, Valmont…”

Valmont reached out to a jar of grease nearby and thoroughly oiled his own member; he didn’t want to hurt Azolan, but rather to see his certainties crumble under the blows of the pleasure. When he used his fingers to grease Azolan’s tight hole, the man faintly groaned, but didn’t object. He actually felt sorry, remembering how, a bit earlier, he’d speared Cécil’s ass with anything but a little spit as lubrication.

“Now relax…” – Valmont said in a soothing voice, pointing his slick cock to Azolan’s virgin anus – “Show me how much you want to feel me inside you, open your inner doors to me, and let me show what man-love really means…”

“Putain!” – Azolan hissed through his gritted teeth when Valmont first forced open his anal rings, but he took his breath, realizing that Valmont had stopped, waiting for him to adjust to his girth. And that made him feel even more sorry, because he didn’t have such a care with the boy, he just went on slamming his manly tool inside him without any regard. But Valmont was caring with him, he was waiting, restraining himself; so Azolan, after a short while, nodded and murmured: “I’m ready… I guess.”

Valmont smiled, and set his hips in motion. He knew by heart where a man’s (or a woman’s) hidden buttons were, and pressed them with consummate experience. It took him only a few long thrusts into Azolan’s unexplored depth to see him tilt back his head and let out a long, guttural moan of pleasure.

“That’s it, Azolan… Feel it… Enjoy the pleasure I’m giving you… A man knows better how to give pleasure to another man… You like it when I touch this little spot inside you, don’t you?” – Valmont whispered, hitting Azolan’s prostate with quick, short blows – “It makes your heat rise… You feel the tension growing into your groin… Your body is like a violin’s string, eager to be plucked again, and again, and again…”

“Ooohh… Monsieur… Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it… Don’t stop…”

Valmont’s hands reached around to Azolan’s cock and balls and started massaging them with tender determination, making Azolan squirm in ecstasy, reaching peaks of pleasure he’d never experienced. Azolan gasped and moaned, gripping his hands on the ropes tying him, while Valmont relentlessly pounded his ass and stroked his cock, sometimes with a caring touch, sometimes with dominant thrusts. “I’m so close… so close…” – Azolan breathed when he couldn’t bear anymore the burning desire that enflamed his body – “Have mercy, Monsieur, finish me off…”

“As said, your every wish will be granted in full…” – Valmont replied, pacing up both his strokes on Azolan’s cock and his thrust into his ass. Azolan became delirious, and was suddenly thrown over the edge: “Oui! Oui!! GGGHHAAAAA!!!”

Azolan’s massive cock started pulsing madly into Valmont’s hand, and long ropes of thick man cream rocketed out of the engorged head, splatting to the floor in front of him. The ejaculation seemed to never end, while the bare walls echoed for Azolan’s unrestrained howls of pleasure. Then, slowly, the throbs trailed off, and Azolan bowed his head, heavily hanging from the ropes, exhausted.

But Valmont wasn’t done, yet. His hand slowed down, but didn’t stop, and his cock went on reaming Azolan’s now sensitive chute relentlessly. “Ahh! NNGGHH!!” – Azolan protested, feeling the residual pleasure of the climax turning into a strong post-orgasm discomfort – “Monsieur… Please stop! It’s too much!”

“You still deserve a punishment, after all, don't you, Azolan? I’m afraid punishments are seldom pleasurable…”

“I’m so sorry!” – Azolan almost screamed, squirming hard under the merciless overstimulation – “I shouldn’t have disrespected you that way! GHAA! It will never happen again, Monsieur! Please…!!”

“Please what?”

“Please fill me with your seed, Monsieur, and have mercy on me!”

The frantic anal contractions caused by the harsh treatment were almost too much to bear, and Valmont graciously groaned: “As you wish…”, and let the floodgates open, moaning loudly while bathing Azolan’s depths with his manly essence.

When done, Valmont stood for a moment inside Azolan, holding him tight and pressing his face between his wide shoulder blades; he then caught his breath and pulled out, giving one last playful slap on the man’s sweaty ass.

“Back to our life” – Valmont said resolutely, setting Azolan free – “This once I will take my bath by myself, but let’s not make a habit of it, uh?”

“If you need me for your toilet, Monsieur le Vicomte” – Azolan replied, even a bit too eagerly – “I’m here to serve, you really shouldn’t worry about me…”

Valmont noticed the mischievous glimpse in Azolan’s eyes and laughed: “You want to wear me out! Ha ha! Maybe another time, who knows…?”

And with a playful wink, Valmont turned around and went away, leaving behind a smiling Azolan.

~ An obligation to honor ~

Cécil’s marriage was a grandiose event that was on everyone’s lips for the entire day. But the day after, the juicy gossip was that, after the nuptial night, the newlywed Madame de Volange was as virgin as she was at the altar, sure enough due to something unmentionable she hid under her elegant and way-too-expensive gowns. It took Merteuil's servant a short time and a few bribes to convince the maids of Palais de Volange to start a rumor that quickly spread like a wildfire throughout the entire Paris. Much to Merteuil’s amusement, the former M.lle de Villancourt, now married Volange, was the laughing-stock of the entire city.

That night, the Marquis de Merteuil retired to his bedroom satisfied and happy. He changed to his comfortable linen nightgown and then dismissed his servants. He was about to drift to sleep when his door crashed open, and he grunted irritated, trying to guess who dared to disrupt his sleep so rudely.

“Good evening, Monsieur le Marquis” – Valmont saluted in a sardonic tone, wearing a smug grin – “No, don’t get up for me, I prefer you in your current position…”

“Valmont! What on earth are you doing here, unannounced and at this late hour?!”

“I accomplished my task, as you must be well aware of, by now” – the Viscount replied, taking off his coat and his jacket – “and I’m here demanding payment…”

Merteuil got pale; yes, he had promised to Valmont his body, while prey of his thirst for revenge, but now that the moment to honor his obligation had come, his narrow mind screamed in horror, thinking at the… immoral things Valmont wanted to do with him.

“I wouldn’t really say you accomplished your task” – Merteuil resolutely stated – “as my desire was that Cécil would ignore M.lle de Villancourt not only the first night, but all the following ones, till death parted them!”

“Ensuring that would be totally out of my control!” – Valmont said with restrained anger, stripping to the underpants – “And anyway, the two lovebirds will outlive both of us: asking me to wait would amount to a refusal to honor your promise!”

“You knew the terms of our agreement! I’m not going to submit to your… sinful lust!”

“You’d better think twice before letting me down!” – Valmont hissed, now fully naked – “Be aware that in this case a ‘no’ would be regarded as a declaration of war!”

Merteuil, still laying on his bed, looked up at Valmont, at his handsome face veiled with restrained anger and at his muscular naked body trembling for the tension and wore a tentative smile: “All right, then.”

Valmont made a hopeful step toward the bed, but his ardor was suddenly cooled by Merteuil’s icy tone: “War.”

That was the last straw. Valmont quickly grabbed from a nearby chair the long belt of Merteuil’s robe, and before the Marquis could understand what was happening, he found himself immobilized, with his hands tied to the headboard.

“Release me!” – Merteuil ordered, while Valmont climbed on the bed wearing a predatory grin – “I’m going to call for my servants!”

“You won’t” – Valmont stated, slowly lifting his friend’s nightgown, revealing inch after inch his strong legs, his narrow hips, his remarkable manhood and his chiseled hairless chest – “Because, you see, my dear friend, you want me. You desire me, you crave my body as much as I crave yours, even if your narrow mind tells you it’s horribly wrong…”

“N… No… It’s not true…” – Merteuil tried to deny, but under Valmont’s experienced caresses, his body was reacting with enthusiasm, betraying his moral qualms. Valmont’s tone was soothing, sensual, while his fingers roamed his friend’s helpless body, his pecs, his nipples, his chiseled abdomen: “It’s not wrong what we both desire. It’s actually wonderful. You can’t guess how long I’ve been craving this intimate moment with you, how long I’ve dreamed of touching you like I’m doing now…”

Merteuil’s breath was hard, as he was clearly enjoying the erotic sensation enflaming his body; but his rigorous morals just couldn’t let him surrender to his own desire: “No! Untie me and go away! I’m not going to do the… sordid things you have in mind!”

“You’re not in a position to refuse!” – Valmont roared, exasperated, and roughly lifted Merteuil’s legs, placing them on his own shoulders, so as to gain an unobstructed access to his friend’s sancta sanctorum. He spat on his hand, wetted his hard member and pressed it on Merteuil’s inviolate anus.”

“No! No, let me go, no!!” – Merteuil almost screamed, shaking his head, and Valmont faltered, witnessing his friend’s almost hysterical reaction; still keeping his member on Merteuil’s back door, Valmont looked deep into his friend’s eyes and gravely nodded. With a quick move, he pulled the knots blocking Merteuil’s wrists, setting him free, and then breathed, seriously, with a hurt expression: “Say no again, order me again to leave, and I will, to never come back…”

Merteuil held his breath, looking straight into Valmont’s eyes and for a long, endless moment it seemed like the time had frozen; and then Merteuil tentatively raised his hands, placed them on Valmont’s handsome face and said under his breath: “Don’t leave me. Take me, hurt me, humiliate me, but don’t you ever leave me…”

And then, he pulled Valmont’s face down to his own, until their lips met in a fiery kiss, a passionate kiss that wiped away all of Merteuil’s stupid worries and regrets. And when he felt Valmont’s hard rod violate his pristine man-hole and a sharp pang of pain radiated from his bottom, he didn’t stop kissing his friend, his lover, and even tilted his hips to let Valmont go deeper, and take him to the last inch.

The pain didn’t last long; Valmont was a master at his craft, he knew how to take a man’s virginity, and despite the poor lubrication (Merteuil didn’t keep a jar of oil at hand ‘just in case’, like Valmont), the slow caring strokes that gently stretched Merteuil’s depths quickly turned the residual pain into a sublime pleasure.

“I… I didn’t know it could feel like this…” – Merteuil murmured, with a voice that exuded surrender, desire and thankfulness. Valmont smiled tenderly: “It can be much better than this…”

Now that the first, difficult penetration had loosened Merteuil’s hole a bit, Valmont paced up to a more intense fuck, with long deep thrusts, without rushing, and aiming at his best at Merteuil’s sensitive joy nut. His reaction was priceless: “Sacrebleu! What… What are you doing to me…? Ooohh… Don’t stop… Don’t stop… Don’t you ever stop!!”

Valmont smiled tenderly and looked down at his friend squirming in delight. The pleasure radiating from his groin was intoxicating, but behind the mist of sensual desire numbing his mind, something different started to stir inside Valmont, something he’d already felt, occasionally, and firmly refused to acknowledge.

“What are you doing to me…” – Valmont breathed, looking straight at Merteuil like he was seeing him for the first time – “Moments ago I was about to ruin everything, I was about to lose you, and my life would’ve been an endless misery…”

Merteuil was breathing hard, feeling a sexual tension that he’d never experienced with any of his female lovers: “Take me, Valmont, make me yours, and be mine… It’s… It’s almost too much to bear… I… I’m… AAAAAAGGHH!!!”

Merteuil convulsed under Valmont, squirming hard, prey of the most intense and devastating pleasure he’d ever felt in his life, understanding for the first time that physical pleasure is just a fraction of the complete ecstasy that only making love… love, not just sex… could grant to a man.

Valmont paced up his thrusts even more, quickly falling into the abyss, and moaned loud, while flooding his lover’s depths with the essence of his pleasure.

Slowly, the frantic contractions of the climax trailed off, and the two men lay on the bed, panting, next to each other.

“Tell me you were sincere, earlier, when you told me to never leave you…” – Valmont said softly, a strike of anxiety tingeing his voice. Merteuil turned to his friend and wore a sweet smile that melted Valmont’s hardened heart: “I’ve never been more sincere in my whole life. Don’t you ever leave me, Valmont. I couldn’t stand living without you.”

Valmont gulped, fighting with himself, trying hard to find the strength inside him to speak the forbidden words that burned on his lips: “I… love you, Merteuil. And I didn’t fall in love with you in these last minutes, no: I think I fell in love with you the first time we met, years ago, but I just couldn’t allow myself to love anyone. I’ve wasted years of joy. How stupid have I been?”

“Not more than me” – Merteuil replied, with a sorry glance – “I let my moral principles mislead me, I let them forbid me to find the happiness I craved. But I don’t care, as I’ve found it now. I love you, Valmont.”

There was a long silence in the room, that in the end was broken by Merteuil’s doubtful voice: “But what happens now?”

Valmont hid an amused grin under a perfectly serious expression, but the glare of mischief flashing in his eyes betrayed him: “Marry me, and become the Viscountess of Valmont.”

There was a sort of double-entendre in Valmont’s absurd proposal, as it clearly was a reference to the passive role Merteuil had in bed, that night, being on the receiving end.

Merteuil laughed out loud: “Ha ha! In your dreams! Besides, I totally outrank you, being a Marquis, so you should marry me and become my Marquise!”

“Damn you!” – Valmont laughed, but a bit tense at the idea of reversing their roles – “We’ll see. I’ve never been… uhm… a Marquise. I can think of it… but only if you court me properly!”

They laughed joyfully for a while, enjoying the intimacy of being naked in the same bed, without feeling the least trace of embarrassment, as if they were long-time lovers.

“But seriously, Valmont…” – Merteuil then said when the joyful banter trailed off – “We can’t get married or anything. We’re… prominent people, we can’t just disappear and go live at a secluded place. Paris expects us to marry a woman and build a family…”

Valmont smiled: “No longer than two days ago, your ‘fleur-de-lis’, Cécil, asked me the same question, and I replied that he could as well be married to a woman, for appearances’ sake, and keep his male lover as long as he wanted. I think it was a good piece of advice. Don’t you think so, Monsieur le Marquis?”

“Yes, I think so, Monsieur le Vicomte.”

 

-~~~≈≈≈ooOoo≈≈≈~~~-