Paris elevator

Paris elevator

François and Connor are on a small romantic trip to France to celebrate their anniversary and get stuck in a vintage elevator in a towering, Art Deco hotel in Paris during a September thunderstorm. Before that, they spent a romantic evening at the fancy restaurant on Montmartre, eating delicious French cuisine, drinking wine, and dancing. Then they walked to their hotel, holding hands, kissing at every stop, giggling. As they walked, the weather was changing, and by the time they entered their hotel, the rain and wind began full force. In the elevator, the power flickers, plunging them into near darkness. Connor’s bladder, full from the long walk after having drunk several glasses of wine and nervous energy, begins to ache painfully. The confined space, the claustrophobic darkness, and the groaning of the cables terrify him. He squirms on the velvet bench, his face flushed. François, calm and steady, pulls Connor onto his lap, holding him close, whispering comforting French words in his ear. The pressure becomes unbearable, and Connor whimpers, tears in his eyes. His briefs are damp with some leaking pee, he trembles and shivers in François' lap. François suddenly recalls that they have a solution to Connor's predicament: he unzips Connor’s trousers, guiding his small leaking cock to pee into an empty water bottle from their backpack, the sound obscenely loud in the silent elevator. Connor sobs in relief and shame, peeing for a long time, his stream hot through the bottle against François' hand, his eyes closed, eyelashes wet with tears, but François holds him, praising him. When the elevator finally jolts back to life, they retreat to their hotel room, where François hugs Connor, reassuring him in French that it's alright, nothing bad happened, Connor is safe, the thunderstorm isn't gonna hurt him, he didn't ruin the elevator's carpet, he held for so long, managed to not drop any spurt, got everything in the bottle. He then leads Connor, who feels fuzzy and a bit drunk, to the bathroom, where he carefully undresses him and helps him take a shower. Afterwards, in their room, on the giant bed, he covers Connor's whole body with kisses, his beard scratching Connor's sensitive pale skin. He takes Connor's whole small chubby cock into his mouth, playing with it, then licking Connor's full balls, and finally asks Connor to lift his hips up. Connor blushes, holding himself up, spreading his asscheeks, the position extremely vulnerable. François plunges his tongue inside Connor's hole, moving slowly, licking, sucking, kissing, even biting gently. makes love to Connor tenderly, the storm still raging outside the tall windows. The sound is absolutely obscene, mixing with Connor's quiet whimpers, and François licks him for a few minutes until he feels Connor's rim relax completely. He covers his fingers with lube and gently stretches Connor some more with them, quickly finding his prostate but mostly avoiding it to not trigger Connor's orgasm sooner than necessary (Connor is very sensitive and comes easily from prostate stimulation, after a whole year together François knows this fact intimately and has enjoyed it a lot - bringing a trembling Connor to embarrassingly quick explosive orgasms multiple times per night until he's absolutely spent and overstimulated, crying from pleasure). Eventually François covers Connor's body with his and slowly enters him. The feeling of skin against skin is amazing, Connor's walls grip François' dick tightly, pulsing around him in hot waves. Connor's legs wrap around François' back, François' hand finds Connor's fingers on the pillow, and their eyes meet, even though Connor is really drowsy and wants to close his eyes, he can't look away from François' intense dark gaze. They kiss, François' mouth moving lower, sucking and biting at Connor's collarbone, neck, nipples. François moves in deep slow thrusts, hitting Connor's swollen prostate with precision, making him squirm and toss his head back, biting him plump lips. Very soon Connor moans loudly, almost crying, and tries to warm François that he's almost there. François gently tells him to let go, and Connor comes untouched, whining and whimpering, his small cock spurting long thin watery jets of release between their bellies, the liquid flowing onto the hotel sheets, his ass clenching around François impossibly tight, each pulse of it feeling like Connor's heart dropped down there. The feeling is intense, Connor's eyes are wet with tears, he looks up at François and whispers that he loves him, and François huskily replies in French, biting Connor's neck and shoulder again and coming deep inside. The feeling of hot seed filling his hole prolongs Connor's orgasm, making him shake and tremble underneath François. It's so much that it begins leaking out even before François pulls out, and Connor blushes at the feeling of come dripping out of him on the sheets. François covers him with his body, laying heavily on top of Connor, kissing his face, whispering sweet nothings in French. Eventually he pulls out and takes the large beautifully decorated butt plug from the nightstand, carefully plugging Connor in before his seed leaks. The feeling of something rather large penetrating him so soon after orgasm makes Connor cry out in shock, but he quickly adjusts and loves the pressure, the constant reminder of what happened, the heat of François' come staying inside him. François notices that Connor begins to drift away, to drop, his eyes glassy, his shoulders trembling, curling into a ball. François quickly uses wet wipes to clean up both Connor and himself, makes Connor sit up a bit and drink a tall glass of water, then hugs Connor tightly from behind and covers them both with a blanket, turning off the lamp. The sheets and sticky and damp with their fluids, but François doesn't want to make Connor get up and change them, seeing how vulnerable Connor is now. It'll wait till tomorrow morning, he decides. Eventually Connor's shaking stops, he seems to relax and feel safe, and his breath slows down, suggesting that he fell asleep. Francois kisses the back of his neck and his sweet pink ear, caressing his messy golden curls, and falls asleep too, listening to the rain outside.