After a moment of silence, Julien asks, “Well? Which floor?” Probably the top, but he doesn’t want to assume.
“I dunno. What floor are you on?”
Julien balks. “We’re using my room?” But he didn’t clean up this morning. His clothes are everywhere. “Why not yours?”
“I don’t have a room—I’m staying at my house. I thought you would too, honestly. Don’t you have an apartment near here?”
“Yeah, but I have flatmates.” Julien presses the button for the third floor, and the elevator creaks as it slowly climbs. “If someone offers me a quiet room alone, I’m gonna take it.”
“Funny, I’m not expecting you to be quiet or alone tonight.”
When they reach the room, Rafael doesn’t even comment on the state of it. As soon as he’s inside, he turns, backing Julien up against the heavy door. “How do you want me?”
His face is too close and his lips hover just above Julien’s. It’s distracting.
“What?”
“You like control, and I want to give it to you.” Rafael’s voice is a murmur that Julien has to strain to hear through the pounding of his heartbeat. “How do you want me?”
A million different ways.
“Uh, let’s, um—” With his fingertips on thick pecs, Julien guides Rafael to step back. Once he’s a reasonable distance away, the Frenchman stares at his own feet and kicks off his shoes.
He asked for this—heliterallyasked for this—but now that Rafael’s actually here, in his hotel room, with thatface, Julien feels like a stupid, stuttering, fumbling mess.
Rafael mimics him, toeing off his own shoes and pushing them until they line up alongside Julien’s. Big shoes, big feet, big— “Is your room always this small?”
“It’s fine.” It’d probably look larger if he kept it organized. Julien dips down and flings a few items of clothing over onto his closed suitcase.
It’s just a blowjob. He doesn’t even have to give it. They’re together so Julien can receive a blowjob.
Why does his nervous system think he stepped off a plane without a parachute?
“Julien.” Rafael’s large hands wrap around Julien’s waist and tug him backwards. “You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Rafael chuckles, the sound deep next to Julien’s ear. “Maybe you’re the one who needs some direction. Why don’t you sit on the bed?”
Julien shakes his head, petulant. This is supposed to be Rafael’s apology—he doesn’t get to dictate how it works. He turns in the older man’s grasp and says, “I want to stand.”
“Fine.”
Rafael’s hands fall away as he takes one knee, then another. When he sits back on his ankles, his dark eyes sparkle, reflecting the lamp light. “What happens now? Should I unbutton your?—?”
“No.”
Julien quickly pops his own fly open and pulls the zipper. Having something to do helps, and he shimmies the trousers down, dropping them to the floor. It takes a couple of tries to kick the fabric away from his feet, but they eventually end up on the edge of the room for him to deal with later.
“Are you sure about this?” Julien asks, cupping his dick through the thin fabric of his briefs. He’s completely soft, but Rafael’s gaze still drops to watch as Julien massages himself.
“I’m sure.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually agree. I thought we—that we were done.”
“I thought so too.” Rafael looks up, back to Julien’s face. “But I meant what I said—we’regoodtogether.”
“We’re explosive together.”
