Tag: gay boyfriends

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by ccallenreese

I lean against him, one hand around his waist. He’s mostly quiet now, except for his sniffles punctuating the silence of our living room. The warm Florida sunlight streaming in through the windows is making me sleepy. I close my eyes, doing my best to emanate calmness and serenity. It took me nearly twenty minutes to get him to calm down, my boyfriend was that upset.

I was just congratulating myself on my ability to recover from such a turn of events when Quint’s thin facade crumbled again. I felt his shoulders tremble first. I opened my eyes and turned my head slightly him, just enough time to see his bottom lip tremble but not enough time to react.
“My gecko,” he wailed through a tight throat, and fresh tears began to fall. “My poor little Shovel.” He burst into fresh sobs.
“Oookay come here,” I cooed, using my hand on his waist to guide him sideways and into my arms. Quint crawled into my embrace and set to work on soaking my shirt again. I held him tight, wishing I could do something – anything – to lessen his pain.

The shock of coming back from a trip to the post office to find the little guy deceased had sunk in now, and Quint was now ruminating in his grief. I kissed his temple and rocked him. “Oh my poor baby.”
“I already miss him so much,” Quint babbled. “I am never gonna see his smiling face when I come to see him again. I’m never going to feed him another mealworm again, or watch him climb up the glass like Spiderman… he was just such a bro. Watching TV is never going to be same without him. He loved hockey.”
I try not to laugh. It’s not the right time. “Aww honey. Shovel had an excellent life with you. You said he was old wasn’t it?”
Quint nodded as he blew his nose with a tissue he pulled from the box to his side. “He was old for a leopard gecko. He was 17. I had him since I was 11. He was my birthday gift for getting straight As in school. I spent more of half my life with with-” At the end of that sentence, Quint’s voice goes up into a falsetto and clings to me hard, still crying. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.
“There, there,” I say, knowing my words won’t do a thing.
“I had gotten him some new stuff for his terrarium for Christmas. What do I do with it now?”
“You can donate it to a reptile rescue, so some other lizard will get a nice life in Shovel’s name.”
I can’t tell if that upset Quint or made him happier, but the waterworks are in full gush mode right now. I hug him until I’m worried his ribs are going to break. My heart hurts for my boyfriend and I feel a little helpless that I can’t make this suck less.

Quint sniffles. “Two days before Christmas…why…”
“He just decided it was time,” I explain. “Shovel was very lucky to have you. I don’t want you blaming yourself now. He knew your schedule well. I think he passed when you were out at the post office because he couldn’t do it while you were around. Shovel knew how much you loved him.”
“Y-you think so?”
“Yes,” I say, with a nod. “He was an old gecko. He just took a nap and went. I’d say that’s the best you could have hoped for right? No pain, no lingering illness…”
“I loved that gecko.” Quint pauses for a loud hiccup. “I knew this was coming one day. I just thought there would be a sign…”
“Being 17 was a sign, love.” I insist.
“Still. I wanted more time,” Quint whines. He still hasn’t let go of me.
“I know, baby, but that wouldn’t be fair to Shovel. Shovel couldn’t give you more than that. He gave you all he could.”
Quint is quiet for a long moment, thinking about his beloved pet. “You are such a wonderful boyfriend, Marcus,” he says, surprising me. “I am blubbering like an idiot and crying all over you and you’re just putting up with me.”
“It’s part of loving you,” I say. “Being in a relationship means that you don’t just get the fun times and good sex-”
“Yeah the sex is pretty damn good,” admits Quint.
I chuff through my nose. “It is. But it also means being there when you need someone to get you through hard times. Shovel was part of our family. I’m not a total dick. I will put black bunting on his terrarium in mourning, if you want, and we can have a lovely funeral for the little guy.”
“Oh, I’d like that! I’d like that a lot.” Quint kisses me on the lips, then rests his head on my shoulder. “You are getting so many good boyfriend points right now.”
I smile. “Does that mean I’m getting extra Christmas presents?”
“Oh, it definitely does. And I’ll even let you be the little spoon in bed when we sleep.”
“Oh ho, I am a good boy on Santa’s list this year huh?”
Quint nods once more. “Uh-huh. Very good. God, I love you, Marcus.”
“I love you too, Quint. Why don’t we get you something cool to drink and you can wash your face?”
“Oh vodka. I need vodka.”
I laugh. “11 am vodka it is. A drink in Shovel’s memory?”
“To Shovel,” Quint agrees, all red-eyed and drained of energy.

I pat my lover on the shoulder, help him get up, and walk him to the kitchen. Again, I applaud myself for how well I handled the situation. I had been dangerously close to thinking Quint might be “the one”, but there were a few last tests to be done before I could make such a declaration. I was pretty sure we passed this one. There were a few more tests left, like talking about having children, and then I would know for sure if Quint could be mine for good. I was looking forward to them, because I was confident everything would work in our favor. I was confident in our love, because nothing could stop me from feeling the way I did about Quint – on good days, or bad ones.

___________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Can I get on? I wanna get on,” he grouses, pouting all the while, climbing into my lap.
“Woaah – ok there big guy. Oof! Watch your leg there. Ok oook alright. Are you sure you don’t want to do this somewhere more comfortable?”
“No now,” he insists, settling into my lap. “Put it in me. I want it.”
There is something oddly adorable about the sullen, childish tone he is using with me. I reach under and position my cock up. He wiggles his ass until he gets into the right place, and slides down with a loud gasp until we are flush.
“Oh god, yes,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around me. “So good, so good.” He clenches his ass and moans as I push up into him. “More.”
“You have to do some of the work, baby,” I gently remind hm.
“I just want to be connected. I missed you so much.”

And there it is. He put on a stiff upper lip when I picked him up the airport, but when I got him home he totally fell apart. He’s always been one to hide his emotions until he’s all stuffed up. Sometimes when he’s horny, I can get himself to bare himself to me without any guards up at all. After months away, he was fragile as spun glass.
“You missed me?”
“So much,” he sniffles. “London was grey without you.”
“You didn’t have a good time studying abroad?”
“I learned a lot but I was lonely.”
“Aww, there there. I’m here now.” I run my palms up and down his back, doing my reassure him. I tense my thighs and trust up into his tight ass; he rewards me by squeezing his buttocks around me and groaning. I sigh as I slide in and out of him, my face and nose buried in his shoulder.
No condoms. No distance, not in miles, not in centimeters.

“I missed you too.”

_______________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

jeanbaptistehuong:

© JBH/BVD-2014 – Madrid (Spain)

Fabrice & Sylvain

When we’re out in public, or on the streets, they see a man that just doesn’t stop. He’s gregarious, extraverted, out-going. Always there with a grin and a wave and a boisterous. “Hey how have you been? How’s your mom/dog/sister/job/chastity going?” He remembers everyone. Memory like a steel trap.

At work, he’s bright eyed and bushy tailed at 7 am, cheerful and chipper and done with his work by 3 pm. He’ll top it off with a work-out and then come home to cook-dinner by humming.

At leather events, he’s almost like a puppy although he is the one holding my leash. He struts around, so eager to show me off while trying to talk to everyone and investigate everything. Pulling me aside to fuck me in a fit of lust only seems to spur him on more, and for the next hour he’ll lavish me in attention and touches until I’m desperately horny again and sucking his cock in the middle of the room. His nickname is the Energizer Bunny at these events for a reason. Four hours of spanking demonstrations? Ok! Let’s go.

What these people don’t see is that my baby needs to recharge sometimes. Sometimes those batteries do wind down, and he gets sullen and cranky. He can only get his energy back through a thermal charge, so I’ll half carry him into the bedroom for a nap. He’ll cling to me, both hands touching my skin like positive and negative terminals, seeking the current running through me. We’ll talk in low voices until he drifts off to sleep, and he charges.

I like to stroke his hair and kiss his face, and shower him with the gentlest love I can manage. I can’t do these things when he’s zooming around the house. This is my time to monopolize him, without roles or statuses. He goes from an Energizer bunny to my cuddle bunny.

And how do I know when he’s recharged? Because he does what all bunnies start doing when they get their vigor back – he begins to hump my leg.

____________________________
Text is fictional. Source is below.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Alright, cat. Talk.”
“Mraow.”
“Don’t be coy with me. Where is it.”
“Mraaaoow.”
“I know you know where it is. It was sitting right here. My ring, I wear it all the time. You know, on the hand I pet you with? Where is it.”
“Mraow.”
“What did you do with it? What do you want? Money? Catnip? Power? Well, you won’t get a lick of it without my ring back!” Ethan insists.
Mrs. Fluffington licks hers paws.
“Don’t you pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

I watch from the recess of the hallway, smothering my giggles behind one hand while filming the scene with my phone in the other. Ethan smacks the table with his palm. “Where is it! Talk damn you, or I will make you talk.”
The cat jerks her head up at the noise, looks at Ethan, then stands up and headbutts him. Ethan sighs and begins to scritch her behind the ears. “Yeah, yeah you like that huh? Feels good huh? Right in that spot. Weellllllll now you won’t get anymore until you tell me where the ring is!”
“Mraaaaow.”
Ethan growls in frustration as Mrs. Fluffington rolls to her side to show off her belly. He narrows his eyes
“They taught you well in cute school. You won’t break easily. Crafty cat. Wait…did you eat it? Did you eat my ring?”
“Mew.”

I know I should really just step in and give Ethan the ring back, but this is far too entertaining. I had taken the ring to measure so I would know what size band to get for his engagement ring. It’s going to be the big surprise for Christmas. Thing was though, Ethan never takes his father’s high school ring off, which made it difficult to measure. When I saw that Ethan had left the ring on the table before he went outside to clean out the gutters after last night’s storm, I made my move. I hadn’t expected him to come back in so soon though, and now I had inadvertently framed my cat.

“Purring are we? That’s a bold move, Mrs. Fluffington. If that even is your real name. You aren’t even married. I know this, I have your file. Talk, kitty, it’s for the best. If you talk, I won’t have to take you into the medical room. Mwuahah. Is that what you want? You have ten seconds to talk. Your adorableness won’t save you this time.” Ethan said in a cartoon-villain sort-of-voice.

I can’t contain myself and my laughter catches his attention.
Ethan swivels his head around until he spots me. “How long have you been standing there?” he asks, sheepish.
“Long enough,” I reply with a smile, tucking my phone into my pocket. “You’re good at that, I think she was about to crack.”

Ethan picks up the cat and snuggles her like a baby. “I seriously think she ate my ring though.”
I make a show of sauntering into the living room holding up his ring in one hand. “I have your ring. I took it to polish it. She was sniffing at it, didn’t want her to eat it or knock it on the floor.”
Ethan’s face melts in relief. “Thank god. Scared me there. I always get so nervous when I take it off.”
“Sorry love.” I kiss his cheek. “I didn’t expect you to come back in so soon. Are you done already?”
“Nah, I had to use the bathroom.”
“Aah. Do you forgive me?”
“I think I can,” Ethan says with a smile, kissing me on the lips. I show him the ring I polished. It only looks marginally shinier.

“Man, I’d go insane if I lost it. I still feel the hole he left behind.”
I cup his bearded cheek. “Your dad would be so proud of you, all your accomplishments. Your weight loss. He’d be pleased that you grew up into such a handsome man.”
Ethan lets the cat down so he can pluck the ring from me and turn it in his fingers. “I would hope so. I often wonder how he would feel if he knew I was in a relationship with a man.”
“Hm. I think he would be a bit freaked out at first, maybe a bit hostile, but once he got to realize you were the same son, I think he’d be ok with it. Besides, I like football, I think we would have bonded.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Your mom likes me doesn’t she?.”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah she does. Joel?”
“Mm?”
“You know…” he slides the class ring on and off his finger, distractedly. “I wouldn’t mind wearing your ring next to this one day.”

I smile, my heart aching for how much I love this man. He’s making it very hard to keep my secret, well, a secret. I almost crack and propose right there and then. I take his hands into my own.
“I think we are moving in that direction for sure, Ethan,” I say slowly. “That’s something we can absolutely discuss more after Christmas, when we can look at our budget and see just how much we spent spoiling your nieces.”
He makes an exaggerated wince. “Yeah I think we bought the whole toy store…”
I chuckle, and nuzzle him. Ethan returns my affection and kisses me. I volley it back. He smells kinda nice, all outdoors-y. One kiss turns into two, two into four, four into… well.

After some time of standing there, with our hands roving over each-other’s torso’s, Ethan breaks the connection.
He sounds breathy. “Hey uh…you know, I really need to go finish cleaning the gutters before it rains again tonight…”
“…but?” I pry.
“But I was thinking, I would much rather have sex with you right now,” he admits, looking sheepish.
I suppress a groan. I love it when Ethan announces his intentions so bluntly like that. It didn’t use to be this way. His history was mostly with women, and it took him a long time to come around to his lust for me.
“Jesus Ethan,” I sigh. “I would love that. We’ll just do a quick one, alright? So you can get back to those all important gutters.”
“Juuust a quick one,” he agrees.
“Maow.”
We both look down at the black and white fuzzball weaving around our legs.
“And that means keeping the door closed so you can’t get in.”
“Man it’s so weird the way she likes to watch us,” Ethan says. I laugh, and then I take his hand and escort him upstairs.

I can barely wait for Christmas. He’s going to be so surprised.

___________________________
Text is fictional. Sequel is here!

Gallery
by ccallenreese

blissfuldominance:

This is what happens when you act like a snot. As soon as we get home, we go to the bedroom and eliminate that type of behavior. 

“If you want me to take you to Joel’s All Male Christmas Party at the end of the year, you better adjust your attitude boy. I know you’re looking forward to it. This spanking is a warning to change your snotty attitude, or you’re going to stay home and clean while I’m out having fun and drinking and partying.”
“Ow! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!”
The spanking stops.
“Oh thank god.”
Then it started up again.
“Ack! What the heck?!”
“I gotta do the other cheek now.”

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Harris Phelps unlocked and opened the front door. He initially would have been suspicious about a knock on the door at 8 pm, but he was almost sure he knew who was on the other side.

“Hello Daniel.”
“Hi,” he said sheepishly, clutching his backpack against his slim, pigeon chested form like a shield.
“Things bad tonight?”
He nodded, looking at his feet. “Lotta screaming. He punched me pretty hard in the shoulder, I can feel the bruise forming already. I am so behind on my homework, I don’t know if I can catch up during the Thanksgiving break. I really want to graduate this year. So I was um…hoping…for tonight…”
“I understand. Come in.”
“It’s ok?”
“Yes, it’s always ok.” Harris stepped back and gestured into their two-story home.
Daniel sighed in relief. “Thank you Mr. Phelps. Is Shane ho-”
“Danny?”
He looked up the stairs for the source of the voice. Harris’s son rushed down the steps at the sight of him, his face furrowed in concern.
“Aww Danny. Is everything alright?”
He shook his head and sniffled. “No, it’s not. We’re short again this month. He said it’s my fault we can’t have Thanksgiving.” He began to weep and Shane swept him into a hug. “Shh shh it’s not your fault.”

Debra Phelps came out of the living room to see what was going on. “Oh it’s Danny again. The poor dear.” She put her hand over her mouth, and looked at her husband with a questioning eyebrow. Harris nodded. She tsked and shook her head, standing back to let Shane comfort his boyfriend.

Harris shifted on his feet, feeling awkward, watching his teenage son embrace and lovingly pet another teenage boy. He was trying to be accepting but it was so foreign to him. He coughed. “Um, did you get dinner Danny?”
He shook his head, still buried in Shane’s neck.
“I’ll fix you a plate.” Before Danny could answer, he was gone.
Debra rolled her eyes. “There he goes. Are you two going to go upstairs for a bit after this, or do you want the living room to yourselves?”
Shane gave his mother a look of gratitude. “We’re gonna go upstairs I think. Danny’s worn out. I think he needs a meal and some rest.” He was rocking Danny side to side as he said this.
“Make sure you check him for bruises. Take pictures of whatever you find. This is the last straw. After the holiday weekend, we’re going down to the police and settling this.”
Danny lifted his head. “Mrs. Phelps, I really appreciate all your family does for me, but I’m going to be 18 in April. I just want to get over this and move on.”

She pursed her lips. “You can’t let him get away with hurting you.”
Shane interrupted. “Let’s talk about this later alright?”
Debra pressed her lips together but didn’t reply. Harris came back into the room with a plate and a cup of iced tea.

“Thanks so much, Daddy. We’re gonna go upstairs for a bit.”
“Alright now. The guest room should be prepared.” He passed the plate and glass to Shane, and clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Get some rest.”
Danny nodded.
Shane carried the items upstairs with Danny at his heals.

Mrs. Phelps had a lot to say to Harris after they went to bed.

___________________

Upstairs, Shane and Danny camped out in Shane’s room for a bit. Shane checked him over, took a picture or two. He was alarmed to find Danny shaking and his skin cold.
“Why didn’t you wear your coat over here silly?”
“It doesn’t fit well anymore,” he explained, smoothing his shirt down. “God, I can’t believe how much homework I have to do. I just wanted to do my homework, how hard could that be?”
“Shhh…. you don’t have to fuss over that now. We don’t have school until Monday.”
“I’m so behind!” Danny cried, his hands trembling as he went for his backpack. “I just wanted to do my homework and graduate and and -” he was beginning to hyperventilate.
Shane took the backpack out of his hands. “Danny – Daniel! Stop. Stop. Look at me.”
Danny was so surprised to hear an adult voice come out of Shane that he forgot to hyperventilate. It was so reassuring to hear him be firm with him, to be in control of things. Shane was his rock.
“ Look at me. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. It’s ok. Your homework is going to get done. I’ll help you. The library is open on Saturday.”
Danny nodded. Shane noted the bags under his eyes, the sallow hue to his skin. He gave Danny the cup of iced tea to sip, and coaxed him into eating some porkchops by hand-feeding him with the fork. It wasn’t long before his appetite reared up, and he devoured everything on the plate, much to Shane’s satisfaction. It was easy to coax him into the guest bed for a long night’s rest.

They let Danny sleep in the next morning. Shane made pancakes and bacon for everyone. It was a simple morning, but for Danny the domestic stability was a soothing balm to his jittery soul. He ate as much bacon as he wanted and felt like a prince. He joined Shane outside to rake leaves, and they ended up playing in the piles. Shane was delighted to hear him laughing. After, when they tumbled into the house with red cheeks, they were given tea and ended up helping Debra peel apples for pies and potatoes for the mashed spuds for Thanksgiving dinner. Harris prepped and stuffed the bird.

As the late morning faded into early afternoon, Danny began to feel increasingly out of place. An aunt was on her way for the feast. The grandparents were coming in an hour. Shane was looking devastatingly handsome and grown up in fitted tan corduroy slacks and an oatmeal and navy sweater. Danny felt ugly next to him in ripped jeans and an old T-shirt. When the family was distracted by a situation involving a shortage of water glasses, Danny slipped upstairs.

He returned a moment later with his old backpack off one shoulder. He stood in the entryway to the kitchen, shuffling his foot against the carpet.
“Um,” he said.
Shane straightened and looked up at his boyfriend. “Danny?”
“I um – it’s getting late. I don’t want to be in your way when your family comes. I bother you guys too much and overstay my welcome as is, so I’m gonna go. Thank you for everything. Again,”
Before anyone could answer, he made his way to the door.
“Danny!” Shane called after him.
“Daniel wait.” This time it was Harris.
The young man froze in the hallway. “What?” he asked, suspicious.
Harris caught up to him, Debra behind him.

“It’s ok if you stay,” said Debra.
“But I’m not part of your family…it’s a family holiday,” he said weakly, his arms tightening around his backpack.
Debra took his arm and walked him to the dining room. “Come here a second. "Look at the table. There’s ten chairs. It’s me, Harris, and our son. Then it’s Harris’s parents, my parents – that’s 7. Aunt Megan, and cousin Reyna is 9. The other one is for you. We set a place for you.”

Danny just stared at the chairs. He worked his jaw a few times, then looked at Shane for support. Shane was giving him a warm smile, obviously in on it.
“I – I-.. I-”
“Dammit Danny, you helped make the pie you at least gotta eat that,” Shane said in an exasperated tone. His quip broke the tension and they all shared a laugh. Danny brushed tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Well, there’s a little more than eating pie.” Harris put a large hand on his wife’s shoulder. We were going to ask you later, but I think it’s appropriate now.“ He glanced at Debra. Debra nodded and put her slimmer hand over her husband’s. Confusion formed on Shane’s face. He wasn’t in on this.

Harris cleared his throat. "We would like to invite you to stay with us for the rest of the school year. We’re not going to be using our guest room for the time being, as Patricia is off studying abroad for the year, and it’s obvious you need some stability in your life. Plus, Shane likes you, and I think it’d be good for you.”
“Oh Daddy do you mean it?” Shane gasped. “You really mean it? Mom? Is he telling the truth, Danny can stay with us?”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “It’s the best thing. I can’t sleep knowing that his daddy is going to put Daniel in the hospital one of these days. We’ll set the deadline at May, and we’ll go from there. Daniel? How do you feel about this?”
Danny’s face was blank. He walked over to the table in a daze and ran his fingers over the rim of the plate with his name card on it. His lower lip began to tremble and he collapsed into a squat and buried his face into his backpack. His entire body shuddered, wracked with sobs. “Yes,” he said, the words thickly muffled.
Shane dropped to his kneels and put a supporting arm over him.
“Yes, a million times yes!”
Debra sniffled and even Harris had a hard time swallowing his emotions.
Shane got Danny to stand up again by offering more hugs.
“Seriously, thank you guys,” he blurted out, hiccuping. “You have been so amazing. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you all.”
Debra found herself opening her arms for a hug too and Danny was eager for the love.
“You just thank us by getting good grades.”
“And uh,” Harris coughed and gestured to Shane. “You two keep it appropriate ok? I know you’re um, dating, but we do mean it when we say separate rooms.”
“Dad!” Shane hissed, turning bright red. Danny groaned and wiped his face on his shirt.
“We’ll be good Mr. Phelps. I swear. Shane is so important to me, I wouldn’t risk it. I just want to graduate, and try to figure out what I’m doing after high school.”
He clapped Danny on the back. “Good. That’s what I want to hear. Now put your backpack away, I need your help in the kitchen with-… Megan, how long have you been standing there?”
“…Am in the middle of something?” she asked, her daughter peering around her legs.
“No,” Debra insisted, putting on a winning smile. “Not at all. We were just having a family moment. Shane, go find something for Danny to wear. Meet us in the kitchen.”
He nodded and stole a sniffling Danny away.

“Who is that?” the stray aunt asked.
“One of Danny’s friends. He’s going to be staying with us for the time being. Problems at home.”
“Oh, is he? Such a sad-faced boy. Poor lost lamb.”
Debra nodded sympathetically and went to get her a glass of wine and some juice for Reyna.

Upstairs, Danny was trying on one of Shane’s button up shirts. Shane had taken a few minutes to allow Danny to wash his face and then he himself combed Danny’s hair back into a ponytail. Danny eyed his clean-cut self in the mirror as he got the top button done on the shirt. He turned around and looked for Shane’s approval. Shane beamed.
“You look handsome. Now let’s find you a belt so my pants stay up on you…”
“Wait, Shane…seriously. I really need to thank you first. Your family is awesome. I just want to say that I really appreciate this. I love them and you so much.”
“You love me?” Shane repeated, flushing prettily.
“Yes. I really do. You’ve shown me such kindness, how could I not?”
Shane cupped Danny’s freckled cheek. They leaned in toward each-other and shared a sweet, light kiss. Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn’t felt anything so wonderful in a very long time.
“Happy Thanksgiving Danny.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too Shane. You know, for the first time since my mother died, I actually feel like I have something to be thankful for this year.”
Shane couldn’t hold it in anymore and finally had to wipe away tears too. Danny kissed them all away.

_____________________________________________
Text is fictional. Source is OP. Happy Thanksgiving~

Gallery
by ccallenreese

We nuzzle, intoxicated by the warmth of eachother’s cheeks. We kiss. We’re on a public street, a little sidewalk cafe, but it feels like we’re the only ones in Paris, like the world revolves around us. My fingers are so intertwined with his own that I cannot even pull my hand away to pick up my glass. So I keep grasping, and kiss him again.

He’s wearing this cologne – just a dab – made of flowers grown specifically in France. He’s so French, so painfully French, and so fashionable in turquoise and leather slippers. I feel worthless and uninteresting in a grey suit, another American businessman bumbling through Paris trying to make a name for himself. I know I only have value to my company because no one else wanted to get on that plane for this three week assignment.

Yet, I am not angry that I got pushed into this trip. It’s been the best three weeks of my life. My head is still full of images and scenes from yesterday when I spent the night.

“Please don’t go back,” he begs, his voice full of so much hope and pain. I was so shocked that he would say those words to me. What does a Parisian boy need with an American lover? Aren’t we on a lower rung, in the ladder of accomplishment? Isn’t it usually the other way around, the boring American pining for a romantic European heartthrob? We kissed more, our ice melting in our glasses.
When I dodn’t answer, his voice grows tight with need. “Please…stay here. I cannot put you on that plane to Washington DC. I cannot, now that I know you exist.”
“Jean Luc…” I breath, weakened by his accent which was heavy during his confession. “Do you mean it?”
“Yes,” he whimpers, looking oh-so vulnerable. “You would crash with me. We’ll get some place bigger. Some place with a better view. Your French is getting better every day. You said your company wants to extend your visit right? Offering you a job here right? For gods sake, please, take it, or my heart is going to break.”

I think for a moment about what this all means. It is not a deep, philosophical event. I had already weighed these options in the shower this morning, because I suspected I would reach that state of lunacy by lunch. I had been right. It would mean packing everything up in my apartment and sending it overseas. It meant not seeing my family as often, but they would likely visit. It meant starting over. New cafes. New barber. New doctor, new optometrist. It meant breakfasts with fresh pastries and tiny coffees. It meant learning all the dirty French words first. It meant holidays around Europe and trips to the country-side where we would spend most of our time screwing in lavender fields, no doubt. It meant a life with Jean-Luc. I had known him for three weeks. He rescued me after I got lost after taking the wrong train, and he’d been by my side ever sense.

“Oui,” I say with a smile. “Yes.”
Jean-Luc gasps. “You really mean it?”
“Well, I have to talk to my office and tell them I accept their offer to extend my temporary assignment into a permanent post. Then, there’s visa issues to work out.”
He kisses me hard and squeezes my hand so hard I fear it might break. “We’ll work them out!”
“Jean Luc, just remember – I’ll have to go back to DC to pack. I have to give 30 days at my apartment. What if you fall out of love with me then? What if, after a week of not having me here, that you come back to reality and our chemistry is gone?”
“That will not happen.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I am going to come back to DC with you.”
Now it is my turn to gasp. “Can you?”
“I have time off work, and I can telecommute for a bit. I want to see your American life before I steal you away.”
I gawk at him, my heart throbbing. It is true, what people say about the French being romantics.
“Yes,” I repeat. “A million times, yes.”

I am a lunatic. Maybe that is the American way, to confuse passion with irrationality. Maybe so, but right now, I am so happy I can’t even speak for fear of crying. Because it is the right answer. I am moving to Paris. I will be his.

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Text is fictional. From photographer Braden Summers’ All Love is Equal Project.