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psalm22-6 · 1 year

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I present to you Les Miserables was stolen!, a 2003 French comic which "recounts a fictional and dramatic episode in the life of Victor Hugo."

It begins with Victor's publisher Lacroix arriving in Guernesey, where Victor lives in exile, surveilled by agents of Napoleon III. Note that he has no beard.

Everyday Victor follows the same routine while he finishes writing Les Miserables. Hmm....

Tragedy strikes! He finds that his manuscript has been stolen! He rushes to Juliette Drouet's house and they discuss what could have happened.

Could it have been someone with a personal vendetta? Or Napoleon III's secret police trying to surpress a revolutionnary text? Victor decides his only solution is to go to Paris and try and track down the thief. 'No' says Juliette, 'you'll be arrested!' But Victor has a disguise.

Now with a beard, he heads to Paris where he enlists the help of his friends: Adele Hugo, Dumas, Lamartine, and Sainte-Beuve ("although he is my wife's lover, he is not necessarily my enemy").

He needs a place to stay that no one will suspect so he goes in search of a woman he once helped.

She is a sex worker named Fanny Fantin, the inspiration for the character Fantine -___- and she agrees to help him. A strange man comes around and starts asking for "Fantine." Victor concludes that whoever stole his manuscript, knowing that he had drawn inspiration from real life, is looking for "Fantine" in order to find him. (Don't think about the plot too hard.) Victor bribes Fanny's pimp to track down the man and Fanny lures him to her room where Victor is waiting. A struggle ensues.

Fanny kills the man, saving Victor but they lose their lead. What's more, her scream attracts the attention of the police. Victor tells her to follow him onto the roof so that they can escape.

As Fanny lays dying on the sidewalk, a gamin named P'tit Louis, who is friend of Fanny's, tells Victor to run but Victor cannot resist saying some final words to Fanny, who is surrounded by onlookers and police. He promises he will take care of her daughter. Her daughter? Yes. Victor was surprised to learn that she has a daughter who she had left in the care of a suspicious couple. Victor's words were so eloquent that as he walks away, something clicks in the mind of a police man, who had heard rumors that a certain author was in town.

wtf is he wearing!! Anyways, Victor runs away. He gets a tip from the pimp that Hetzel, his old publisher, might have been trying to buy the manuscript off the murdered man so he and Dumas investigate.

This is a dead end. They then go to retrieve Fanny's daughter, Sylvie. Victor pays off the couple who were keeping her.

Victor wonders where he and Sylvie can hide. He tells Dumas that he thinks the thief will continue to track him via the plot of his novel so he decides he will go to the Petit-Picpus convent to try and catch the thief. The Picpus convent is a real place where ten years earlier Victor had been allowed to study their customs. The mother superior is reluctant to let them stay but when Victor reminds her of the isolated gardener's shack, she agrees. However!

Who should arrive but Sainte-Beuve, asking if Victor is hiding there. The mother superior won't say anything. Sainte-Beuve tells her that Victor is wanted for murder (because of the man Fanny killed). The mother superior tells Sylvie to fetch Victor.

Victor wants to know how Sainte-Beuve knew where to find him. Sainte-Beuve says that Dumas told him, before leaving for Italy (that's it, Dumas isn't in the story anymore.) 'Hmm okay seems reasonable' says Victor. Sainte-Beuve leaves. 'That was curious,' says the mother superior. 'When he saw Sylvie, he called her Cosette!' Hmmm... Cut to P'tit Louis. The pimp, the Thenardier equivalent character and their gang have tracked Victor to the convent and they want P'tit Louis to help them rob Victor, to avenge Fanny. However, P'tit Louis remembers that Fanny had once told him that not all bourgeoise are bad, for example, there is Victor Hugo.

P'tit Louis tries to warn Victor but the nuns won't listen to him.

Meanwhile, the police also arrive in search of Victor.

P'tit Louis jumps the convent wall and helps Victor and Sylvie escape by the sewer. However, the gang is waiting for them there! P'tit Louis helps them escape the gang too.

Victor and Sylvie take a carriage to Adele's house. Victor sees Adele leaving to go to Sainte-Beuve's. Victor follows her there and bursts in.

Victor starts tearing Sainte-Beuve's house apart. 'I know you have my manuscript,' he says. Only the person who stole the manuscript would have known the name "Cosette."

Adele can't believe that it is true. Sainte-Beuve hangs his head in shame. Victor is looking all over but he can't find it until...he notices that Sylvie is shivering. That's strange...why is it so cold in here!?

In the stove, Victor finds his manuscript.

Sainte-Beuve explains that Victor had everything he wanted for himself and so he wanted to get revenge. He had tried to burn the manuscript but it was so beautiful, he could never bring himself to do it. 'It wasn't enough to have taken his wife?' asks Adele and she slaps him. At that moment, the police arrive and take Victor to jail. Meanwhile. . .

Napoleon III is informed of Victor's arrest but he orders that he be secretly returned to Guernesey to avoid a scandal. The police put Victor in a carriage. 'Where are we going,' asks Victor, 'why are we at Père-Lachaise?' They stop at a grave.

It's a tombstone for Fanny Fantin, the immortal Fantine of Les Miserables. Who could have done this? Sainte-Beuve emerges from the shadows. 'You can't image the disgust I have for myself. This tomb bears witness to a regret that will not leave me.' 'All men are condemned to live with their mistakes,' Victor tells him. To wrap up, Adele and Victor try to convince P'tit Louis to come back with them but he wants to stay in Paris. Adele tells him to live at her house. The police officer tells Victor that he is just doing his duty by kicking him out of the country, but that he can't wait to read his book.

Victor and Adele arrive back in Guernesey with the manuscript and Sylvie. Juliette is waiting for them. 'What happened? Who is this?' Juliette asks. 'I'll explain everything,' says Adele. 'Now embrace me.'

They embrace. 'Who would believe it?' asks Victor's friend. 'It's not me but the theft of my manuscript that has brought them together,' says Victor. He learns that Napoleon III has just granted him amnesty. which he of course refuses. Fin!

#les miserables #victor hugo #off the rails content #lm inspired

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thot-of-khonshu · 2 years

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French Lessons 2

Part 1 | Part 3

One Shot: Late Night Talking

Less than a month ago Steven Grant could barely kiss you and now he's learned to fuck you with his tongue.

Summary: It's been several weeks since you and Steven had your first night together and you're wondering what happened to your sweet French tutor during the morning after?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you agree that you are 18 years or older)

Word Count: 5K

Content: Explicit Smut, dry humping, fingering, oral (m and f), fluff, romance, sliiiiight French, Steven Grant, slight reference to Marc Spector

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words and notes on part 1 and patience on part 2!!! SO much has been going on but I'm glad I could get this out to you guys. I really hope you enjoy it, like and reblog!!!

A new day cones into the light as the sunlight trickles through your curtains and dances on your face. You stretch your legs arms and legs as far as they’ll go, feet digging into your bed as you turn slowly to your nightstand to grab your phone.

You scroll through the usual notifications; Facebook, Twitter, your mates that went out last night and the one that one that wakes you up and makes you giddier than any expresso shot ever would.

Steven 🇫🇷❤️

You snickered at the texts and sent a simple, quick reply that you would see him tonight and that you couldn’t wait.

This wasn’t exactly a new development. Every morning for the past two and a half weeks, Steven has been sending you a good morning text right on schedule, worrying that it’s “too early” although by this time he absolutely knows your schedule to the point of your skincare routine. You and Steven talk about anything and everything, though it never gets old. Every time you hear from him it makes your heart skip a beat and reminisce to the first time you met him in that museum, praising your faulty wired headphones for allowing that quirky gift shop employee to eavesdrop his way into your life.

Then came the French lessons and your friendship because he was just so damn easy to talk to, so caring, so warm. So there was no surprise that you quickly developed feelings for him even though you were terrified that he didn’t feel the same way but then one incredible night together proofed he felt something too. A night you hadn’t forgotten about but hadn’t repeated.

After that night, things intimately had hit a standstill. You replay the morning after Steven had woken up at your apartment; he was quiet, in a hurry and ready to go only muttering out one-word sentences and one quick, heart emoji text message that was supposed to sustain you through the day.

At first you didn’t know what the hell had happened, but the next day, you suppose after everything had settled in and his shyness had melted, all of your days were consumed in conversation with him. Sweet, funny text messages, silly facts about random things he encounters during his day at the museum and awkward but endearing attempts at flirting. Things seemed to have been going well, you still see each other for French lessons that also turned into dinner dates and the occasional lunch pop ups at the museum, but apart from that you’ve had virtually no alone time together.

You’d understand if it was because he wasn’t ready to escalate things as far as you had during your night together, but when you send him excerpts of your favorite Victor Hugo passages, he sends messages like this:

“Fun fact, Juliette Drouet who was a French actress back in Hugo’s day sent him a letter with excerpts maybe just as romantic as his. ‘I wear my soul out with longing’. Je porte mon âme avec nostalgie. Sorry if that long-winded explanation wasn’t as romantic as I was trying to execute…xx”

But it’s never not sweet or romantic with Steven. Though you still would kiss and hold hands, you missed the way his body locked around yours, warm and secure. You missed the French he whispered into your ear which had echoed through your mind late at night when your fingers would wander. You’d thought about messaging him but wouldn’t dare be that bold.

You’d decided tonight’s French lesson was the night to ask where things were going. Through work, lunch and the commute home you kept thinking to yourself that the worst you could hear was that things would stay professional between you two, tutor and tutee. But you also knew Steven felt some sort of way about you, so why not figure it out?

You meet Steven at the usual French bistro you gather for your lessons and dinners, Steven sitting there prompt as usual, hands fiddling and looking down at his phone and then up and then down again until you meet him at the table.

Every time he looks at you it makes your insides absolutely gelatinous. The wide-eyed wonder he would give you each time you saw each other as if it had been ages, even though it had only been since yesterday when you popped around the museum. You dressed up a bit to entice him; you dressed in his favorite color, scarlet red, in a floral sweetheart dress with your hair down in loose “effortless” looking curls (the effort took you 20 minutes).

It didn’t matter if you had taken 5 minutes or 50 minutes to get ready, though because Steven would make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world by his stare. He got up to greet you, giving you a shy wave before pulling you into a hug that seemed to linger more and more each time it happened.

Normally, the two of you say hello with a chaste, quick kiss, saving deeper kisses for when you part. This time you wrapped your arms around his neck, greeting him with slow tender kisses as he let out a surprised noise when you slipped your tongue into his mouth. Slightly surprised at your candor, Steven freezes for a moment before he grips the arms he had around your waist and brings his tongue to yours.

“Tu me manques.” He said to you with a lopsided grin.

“I missed you too.” Your cheeks burned, and you realized you hadn’t stopped smiling since you saw him.

“In French, mademoiselle.” Steven instructed back at you in a jokingly bossy tone. Joking or not, hearing Steven so authoritative was already being mentally saved in your head for your late night thoughts of him.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for isn’t it?” You let him go and sat down. French and dinner went well as usual, with the conversation mixed between different phrases and sentences he’d have you write and conversations about your days and activities.

Towards the end of the meal, Steven jolted up in his seat as if electricity struck him.

“Oh! Before we keep going with sentences and phrases and all of that… I got you something.” He reaches under the table to hand you a large gift bag. You open the bag and see the white cover of Paul Simon’s Graceland vinyl.

You try to muster up words to say while he looks very pleased with your reaction. “Steven… I don’t even know what to say.”

“I hope it’s not too weird. I just remember you talking about how you and your mum used to listen to this when you were a kid and how you lost the vinyl that belonged to her, so I figured it was time you got a new one. Again, if this is remotely creepy that I remembered any of that— “

You shut him up by leaning across the table and greeting his lips with a tender kiss.

“This is amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re amazing.” He seeps out with hooded eyes, affectionate and warm for you. You sat back in your seat as the server came with your check and your dessert half eaten. You didn’t want this night to be over, you wanted to spend your night with Steven.

“Maybe we could listen to it together? Tonight at my flat? I have that record player at my place and I know you have heard little of this album. I still can’t believe you’ve never heard ‘Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes’”

Steven’s face stiffened. “I’d love to, I just have an early work day tomorrow. Donna is making me pay for another tourist asking me for bloody directions to get to the London Eye.”

You look down at your half eaten cake. “It’s fine. You wouldn’t need to stay over or anything.”

“I know if I go over there I’ll be tempted to after the last time.” Steven grinned, reaching for your hand.

“I mean, I don’t think it’ll be that bad.” You hold his hand in yours, rubbing his palms. “I think if we just spend some time together alone we can—“

“I CAN’T!” Steven says a little louder than expected. He quickly moves his hands from yours, looking away from embarrassment. You’re completely frozen in shock at his exclamation.

“Alright, Steven. I am very confused but I will just make this easy for you - we can keep it strictly professional or if it even makes things better, I can find another French tutor…”

“Wha-no-what are you going on about?” Steven asks.

“I just… I like you. I think you like me but I’m not sure, I’m honestly not sure if you’d just rather keep this strictly business. I’m getting mixed signals.”

“How?” He interjects.

“Well, for starters, you yelled at me when I asked if you wanted to come back to mine.”

“Yeah… yeah… that did just happen. But it wasn’t because I…I…” Steven stammered for a moment before taking a long, deep breath to collect himself. You weren’t sure what he was going to do next until he moved his chair to your side of the table, sitting next to you and grabbing both of your hands with such intensity you didn’t know what to expect.

“Look…I like you. I like you a lot. I thought it was obvious, but it's clear I’ve been a total tosser. I’m just…different.”

“I know that and I don’t care. I like you for who you are Steven and everything that comes with it. If that night was too much for you, or if you want to take it slow I completely understand— “

“Definitely not that.” Steven answers quickly, a smile creeping across his face remembering that night.

“Do you remember what happened that morning? After I left your flat? Because I don’t.” He continued.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Now you’re extremely confused and with no context. You say it a little louder than you would’ve liked and people at the other table are looking.

“Shh, shh. Okay, yeah, maybe we should just get to your flat so we can sort this all out, yeah?”

———————————

The walk to your flat is filled with small talk about the weather and how chilly it’s been lately, the way the trees sway and how you’ve had to pack an extra jumper for the evening work commute. You’re holding hands so Steven is still there with you but it’s not like he’s really there with you. As if he’s jumping to explain himself whenever it’s in safe earshot.

You finally get to your flat and keep Steven’s hands in yours, bringing him over to the couch and greeting his lips with an assuring, tender kiss.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” You whisper to him.

He takes a moment to answer, his hands are now slightly shaking. “Like I said, I don’t remember leaving your flat. I remember falling asleep next to you and I tried to stay up as long as I could so nothing like this would happen. And honestly, also because I was just so bloody happy. I’m going to be honest,I had fancied you a lot and for this to happen when I never thought it would…”

He tilts his head down in shame and you cupped his chin in your hand, lifting him up towards you so you can meet his brown eyes.

“You looked so beautiful in my arms and I just wanted to stay in that moment for as long as I could. But sooner than later I drifted off and then I woke up in my flat. Alone.” Steven emphasized the last word, despising that the first thing he didn’t see when he woke up was you.

“We talked, though, Steven. It wasn’t much, but we’d kissed, you got dressed and you left.”

“I know, I saw the bloody heart emoji.” Steven spattered out. “And trust me, if it was really me, I would’ve sent you more than a damn emoji after our first night together.”

You were more puzzled than ever. “I thought you had just been shy?”

“I’m shy but I’m not a prat.” Steven countered. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with me. My memory is shit, I wake up sometimes days later without a damn clue of what’s going on. It’s terrifying and sometimes I wake up hurt and—and — the last thing I want to do is hurt you and if I did, I would never forgive myself.”

“Steven.” You whispered softly at him. “I’m not going to lie to you, I’m very confused right now but the last thing I think you would do is hurt me. I know you, I know your heart.”

“Yeah, my heart is fine but everything else about me is a red flag. I know I sound insane, I know this all sounds like absolute bollocks and I don’t want to drag you into this— “Well,

“Well what if I want to be dragged into this?” You demanded. “I’m sure whatever this is, I can help you and we can figure this out together.”

Steven is shaking, heaving so heavily that you feel you can hear every breath that seeps out of his lungs. This poor man was so wonderful, kind and thoughtful and believed he didn’t deserve any of that because of some stupid sleeping disorder. He doesn’t realize how much he offers, but you know you can show him what he does.

You move your hand from his cheek, slowly trailing his neck onto his chest. You feel his hammering heartbeat. He turns himself away from you, looking dejected, ashamed.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You whisper. You keep your hand on his heart and he slowly looks back towards you, locking his eyes in with yours. God, he was so beautiful. Wild dark curls trickling down his forehead, dark eyes that shone, those beautiful, broad lips. He shifted a bit, noticing you were studying him and becoming self-conscious.

How could he be so blind to his beauty?

His heart rate was slowing down and normalize after a few deep breaths.

“Just promise me, you’ll do what’s best for you. And if that’s not me at some point…” He trailed off.

You planted another soft kiss on his lips to silence his thoughts. He responded with a warm smile as he moved one of his hands to hold the hand that was on his chest.

He leaned forward and started to plant small kisses on every part of your face, ultimately meeting your lips again. It started soft and tender, your pace matching the calming energy of your previous moment. You moved your hands away from his chest, wrapping your arms around him as he brought his to your waist.

That movement caused Steven to deepen the kiss. Sliding his tongue into your mouth as you both let out a moan. Your hands roamed into Steven’s curls, running and tugging through his hair as your need for him deepened.

He broke free of the kiss only to trail needy, ravenous kisses down your throat as he grabbed at the back of your neck to hold you steady.

“Steven” You moaned, his hands moving to your clothed breasts, massaging them.

“Oh, this dress, darling. You look amazing.” He slurred, almost in a trance. You find his lips again, more desperate than the last time as your bodies move together to lie down on the couch. You can already feel how firm he is as he clings on to you, his body demanding you without thinking.

You press him upwards, wrapping your legs around him to straddle. You pull your dress over your head, thanking the universe you had worn a cute set of underwear that day. The way Steven was looking at you with hooded eyes and hands traveling everywhere, not sure what to touch first made it clear he was thankful too.

He began a steady rhythm, pressing into you again, groaning whenever the heat between your legs met his at the height of its pressure. Just feeling him was enough to take you to the edge and satisfy you, but tonight you wanted to please Steven. Anything to take his mind off of his constantly running thoughts. Wherever his mind was running, you wanted to be his sanctuary at the end of the road.

Somehow, Steven kissed you even deeper than you had already been intertwined. Tongues swirling together as he groaned into your mouth. He moved the hand that was on your breast and slid it up your leg, feeling at the lacy material of your panties.

“I’ve been dreaming of feeling you again.” Steven panted into your mouth and you could feel your wetness pooling your core. Steven moved to slide his fingers into your underwear.

“Really feeling you.” As much as you were throbbing for him, this was the moment you wanted to give to Steven. You moved his hand away from your crotch as he looked down, puzzled. You drizzled reassuring kisses all over his face as you slowly undressed him, and when it came to removing his boxers, you repositioned yourself on the floor, kneeled down in front of him.

You gently tugged his boxers down and his cock sprung out, thick, pulsing, deprived for you. You saw some liquid glistening at his tip and your mouth watered.

“I’ve been dreaming about really feeling you too, Steven.” You whispered in a sultry voice. Your hand met his base with a tight clasp as you moved it up and down. You had forgotten your hand could barely fit around Steven’s entire dick, and he was so hard you could feel every vein.

“You—you don't have—“ Steven could barely muster words with how tight you were gripping him.

“I want to.” You licked the precum off of his tip making Steven jerk up slightly. You chuckled at his reaction, this was just the beginning.

You licked up his base, slowly at first, watching his chest heave as you quickened the pace. Your eyes stayed locked on his as he couldn’t keep them off of you, looking marveled at the fact that you had even considered doing this.

What he hadn’t bet on next was you wrapping your mouth around his cock, barely capturing him all as he let out a whimper.

“Oh my god—“ Steven choked. “I’m not gonna last—“

You moan into him, sinking your mouth deeper, giving a steady motion of strokes and movement around his skin.

He shifts as you take him deeper during each go around, seeing how much he can take. He rewards you with soft whimpers and his hand caressing the side of your face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers. “Divine. Ma chérie.”

You could feel the effect of his words, how soaked you were for him. You couldn’t wait to feel everything in your mouth.

You quickened the pace, diving deeper towards the bottom of his shaft and including your tongue to lick him. Steven made involuntary groans, slightly jerking at your movements.

“Oh fuck—oh fuck—I’m gonna—“

You groan into him response, the noise of your mouth rapidly sucking on him almost drowning it out. He thrust into your mouth as a response and God you couldn’t wait to feel this man inside you. He whimpered as his jerks went at an irregular pace.

You gripped onto him hard, sucking onto his tip as Steven released into your mouth. Steven groaned expletives at every squirt, pushing his cock into your mouth deep until he had released all he could give. You swallowed his salty taste, already fantasizing about when you’ll have it again.

Steven, however, is completely blissed out, limbs sprawled across your couch looking like a marionette. His chest is still heaving so you could tell he was still alive and breathing. He opens his eyes and looks at you as you swallow him, groaning as a bewildered, disoriented grin stretches across his face.

You move up to the couch to sit next to him, Steven now engulfing himself into your arms. Kissing your shoulders, still having trouble making steady breaths.

“You’re incredible, you.” He kisses you deep and long, giving his familiar gaze of making you feel like the most important person on the planet and not a soul or a speck matters.

“You are,” You made your way up his shoulders, chest and face with kisses. “You’re thoughtful, you’re brilliant, you’re stunning. You’re Steven. My Steven.”

You felt your face go hot, feeling so bold to call him “yours” when there has been little of a definition of your relationship besides your language education.

He grins, silent and strong, repositions you on the couch to lay back, planting a soft kiss onto your lips before he moves below your stomach.

He slipped his shaking fingers in the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as you spread slightly open for him, glistening wet.

“May I?” Steven whispered. You nodded, and before you could even stop, you felt his thick finger circling your clit. His finger had stopped shaking, but he was breathing heavily again, looking up at you with slight worry in his eyes that he was doing this correctly. He pressed onto you harder as you whimpered in response.

“I’m not gonna lie, I don't know what I'm doing.” He says and you both laugh. “But I’ve done a bit of research and I guess this is my way of showing you I’m yours.”

“So far, so good.” You grin. He continues to massage your clit, slowly teasing towards your entrance with each stroke until his two thick fingers finally enter you. It’s better, more satisfying than anything you could do on your own.

He works in and out of you, focusing on your reactions as you whisper encouragement towards him. You were soaking for him and you felt yourself build up.

He started with a steady pace, speeding up based on how you would clench around him and he’d feel your body react towards you. If this was his first time, you couldn’t tell at all.

As your breaths quickened, he added another finger, causing you to cry out and for Steven to abruptly stop.

“Oh God, oh no, did I hurt you? I’m sorry if I went too far I—“

“Fuck, don’t stop. Just keep going, you feel incredible.” You moaned, he groaned in response as he pumped into you at a faster pace, the noises from your wetness echoing in the room. You felt yourself getting closer and closer, your bundle of nerves tightening. Steven could feel you and he kept going faster, with more shallow thrusts into you.

You released onto his fingers, crying out Steven’s name as he pressed into you deep, feeling your pulsations. Your heart was racing, you had dreamt of this moment for weeks but it was better than you had ever expected.

Steven released his fingers from inside of you and you could see them glistening with your wetness. He insert his fingers into his mouth, sucking onto them and groaning at how you tasted.

“I’m sorry, you just taste amazing.” He panted, it rendered you speechless and couldn’t utter out anything if you had tried.

Amid that silence, Steven looked to you and to your entrance where his fingers just were, looking as if he was contemplating a thought, and then he buried his head between your legs and all of your thoughts were lost. You loudly moaned, involuntarily; hoping your neighbors couldn’t hear a thing. He slipped another finger into your entrance while his tongue massaged your puffy clit.

With Steven pumping you and tasting you, your thoughts became static. All you could hear was your wetness and Steven’s moans into your crotch.

“You taste so sweet.” He muffled in between your thighs, building you up to a steady rhythm again. His mouth is so warm onto you and Steven is really building up a confidence with it, hooking his arms onto your legs and burying himself as deep as he can into you.

Less than a month ago Steven Grant could barely kiss you and now he's learned to fuck you with his tongue. You grab onto his curls, grinding into him and he growls in response. You're so entranced you don't realize you’ve been biting your lip hard while you whimper over and over.

You already feel yourself close to coming again, rolling your hips into him as he's entered another finger into you, thrusting fast, the vibrations of his groaning on your clit.

Your back arches as you come for him a second time, releasing your body to him as you feel his tongue enter where his fingers were, desperate to take every drop.

Everything is blank, and you’re overwhelmed with a feeling of unadulterated bliss. You both lay there for a moment, Steven kissing the inside of your thighs and rubbing small circles onto you.

“I hope that was alright, yeah?” He said into your thigh. “I’m sure you’ve had this done a million times—not to say you’d let a million guys do this—just I know I’m not the most experienced person and I—shit—just, thank you.”

You muster up some sort of strength to stand up, feeling a bit disoriented, and you hold out your hand for Steven. He gingerly takes it and you lead him back to your bedroom. You kiss him, standing near the edge of your bed and Steven responds with such hunger that you think he might go.

When he attempts to grab you by the waist, he accidentally sends the both of you flying onto the bed. As you laughed together, looking into his eyes, you were making note of this intimate moment with the man you adored. The way his deep brown eyes observed you, his sweet smile, the way his hand felt on yours. How could this not be bliss? You had missed this so much.

Steven had taken a moment to get up and clean himself off, grabbing a washcloth from your bathroom and wiping you up as well.

“You've really been doing your research, haven't you?” You grinned.

“Well, just in case I could see you like this again I just wanted to be prepared. I wanted you to feel as extraordinary as you make me.”

“You make me feel that way and then some.” He threw your washcloth into your hamper with accurate precision and then curled into bed with you, your head laying on his chest. His tan arms around you, his lips on your cheek and your ear. This is how it was meant to be.

He whispered your name, and you turned your head towards him. God, he was so gorgeous. How does he not know how amazing he is?

“I think I want to sleep here tonight, if you’ll have me.”

Your response was a deep kiss that lasted until the two of you were drifting off to sleep.

Would Steven be himself tomorrow morning? Would Steven even be there when you woke up? It all didn’t seem as important as shutting your eyes in that moment and falling asleep in his arms.

-----------------

The next morning you woke up to the sunlight streaming on your face. You slowly opened your eyes and did your familiar routine of stretching every limb onto your body as you sprawled across your bed.

Why were you able to sprawl across your bed?

Steven left. That had to have been what happened. Your heart sank, thinking of what may have happened or what mindset he might’ve been in when you left.

Then suddenly, you hear the lull of Paul Simon coming from your kitchen. You follow the sound, getting louder and accompanying it were sounds of pots and pans.

You turn your corner, and Steven is up, making eggs, toast and tea. Your Paul Simon record he had bought for you played on the record player in the corner of your living room.

“Morning, darling.” He came to you and held you for a moment, giving you a deep, long kiss that reminded you of how things started last night. “I’m sorry if this is too much, I probably should’ve asked for your permission before I started mucking up your kitchen—“

“Are you kidding me? This is amazing and so sweet, Steven, thank you.” You planted a lighter kiss on his lips as he looked at you dazed and elated.

“I just wanted to do what I was planning on doing our first night together. Now that I’m actually here, I can give that to you. I can give you anything you want, if you’ll let me.”

“So far you’ve given me breakfast, Paul Simon and a full view of you in your knickers so I am beyond content right now.” You giggle.

He stares at you for a moment, looking as if he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something.

“I do…have one favor to ask of you.” Steven began. You nodded, trying to figure out what else he could have up his sleeve.

“Let me take you out on a date, a proper date. One that isn’t just French lessons and the lentil soup at the bistro. I keep thinking about how you said I was yours, and I am. I just want to make you mine in the proper way.”

Your answer is yes. How could you ever say no? Just like meeting a stranger at a museum, just like seeing him for the first time for who he really is. Just like falling in love. Your answer with Steven is always yes.

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