"Camille," Danton growled, lowering himself so their naked chests were pressed together, their bodies meeting all the way down to their groins. He could feel the much smaller man's heart fluttering like a caged bird. "I told you I don't take defeat well." He hissed this right against his lover's ear, blowing a few dark curls away so he can nibble the pale, exposed flesh. "I expect an apology."
"M. D-Danton," Camille gasps, half playful, half nervous. "I w-won that case f-fairly, and you kn-know it..." His eyes are mostly closed, and he's pressing himself against the hairy body above him as much as he can.
"Be that as it may," Danton growls again around a mouthful of Camille ear, "I expect...recompense..."
Camille has figured out the game by now--he has done this a time or two, with other men. "I d-don't know w-what you mean..." he says, black eyes fully open now, full of mischief.
"Oh, I think you do," Danton says, forcing his large hand under Camille's head, grabbing a fistful of curls.
Camille takes advantage of the movement to glance down the line of the larger man's body, and is...intimidated. "I didn't th-think you did this w-with men!" he gasps, eyes closing again at the sensation of his head being controlled.
"Oh, I don't," Danton says with a deep, rolling chuckle. "I-don't-do-this-with-men. Just with my Camille." With that, he props himself up on an elbow and rakes his nails down Camille's soft, pale chest.
"Y-your Cam--oh!" Camille half-shrieks, bucking in Danton's grasp, only to find himself safely held in the powerful, hairy arms.
"Good." Danton kisses him, roughly, on the mouth, his hand still full of Camille's hair, which he tugs whenever the smaller man goes too long without making noises. While he's thus distracted, Danton hastily oils his impressive cock, and grumbles into Camille's ear, "I know it's around here somewhere..."
"You, what? Oh! Maybe we should..." Camille protests.
Danton, of course, has some idea what he's doing, and quickly presses his head to Camille's soft, eager opening. "There...I think that's it..." he says, soothingly, gently stroking the curls and watching the pale face for signs of distress.
Camille is reduced to squirming and moaning.
"'s not so different after all," Danton groans, pleased with himself.
Camille, incorrigible to the last, opens his eyes for an instant to glare, and mutters, "I am not a woman..."
"No, you're not, cher," the larger man growls, adjusting their positions to his liking. With his hand still under Camille's head, he carefully reaches between their legs and grabs Camille's swollen little cock. "Mmm, nope, not a woman."
Before Camille can protest, both his slender wrists have been swept up in one of Danton's paws and forced above his head, and Danton is pressing more aggressively at his opening. Camille bites his lip and relaxes into his lover's control.
"Theeeere you are, cher," Danton says soothingly, groaning a little as he starts to slide inside. "It'll be over before you know it. Just smile and think of England," he says, in English.
Camille's eyes snap open to glare again, which Danton takes advantage of (and had been expecting) to shove his way deeper, until they groan in unison, one high, one low. The large, dark eyes quickly close again, and Danton begins thrusting with a gentle, but relentless, rhythm.
He can tell that something is different when Camille's breathing changes, and he starts making little gasping repetitive "ah" sounds. Concerned, Danton stops thrusting to ask, "Alright?"
"Don't-stop!" Camille shrieks. "Prostate! Good!"
Danton shrugs his massive shoulders and continues, watching the boy under him to make sure he's hitting this 'prostate'. "So...tight..." he groans. "I might...just see you...when I need...to get laid..."
Camille laughs breathily. "Not...tight...long..."
"True...oh...yeah..." At last feeling as glorious as Camille, Danton knows he's close. He pulls roughly out of his lover, eliciting a sharp, displeased sound from the pale boy. He quickly flips Camille onto his front, positions him again, and grabs his bony hips.
Camille buries his face in the bedding, stifling groans as he's quickly entered again, from a sharper angle.
"There, petit, it was just for a moment..." His climax takes them both by surprise, and he comes with a bellow, raking his short, ragged nails down the flawless, pale back presented for him.
Camille's scream is lost in the blankets, his hands scrabbling in Danton's grasp as he, too, comes, then collapses, making little inarticulate noises.
Danton laughs heartily, releasing the boy and rolling him into his embrace, letting the hair spill over his breast. "I think you need another kiss," he murmurs into Camille's forehead, making good his word.
The pale boy grins up at him, looking vulnerable and childlike, unable even to make a witty quip.
"There, petit," Danton says with another kiss, settling them down for sleep. "Now we're even."
***
Before long, they were living together. Well, not together, you understand. Camille still had his flat downstairs, and Danton his above, quite separate and proper, but they spent far more nights together than alone. Occasionally Danton would be driven upstairs by one of Camille's 'moods', and would leave him alone to write or pace or scream. Camille, of course, had no such tact, and would pursue Danton all the more tenaciously if he showed signs of wanting to be left alone, until Danton would relent, roughly gather the giggling boy into his arms, and throw him on the bed to shut him up. In short, they settled into a rhythm, a life, together.
"D-Danton," Camille asked one day, snuggled into the larger man, watching him read and thinking of ways to bring his attention back to where it belonged--himself, Camille.
"Mmm," Danton murmured, turning his page and doing his best to ignore Camille's obvious plan.
"D-do you think there w-will be revolution?" he asked, quite innocently.
Danton put his book beside him on the bed, thinking, with you about, Camille, yes. He realizes he's lost to his small lover. "A revolution, Camille?"
"Yes."
"Mm. I don't know. But I think that my small Camille would enjoy that." He bit the smaller man's lip, quite hard. "I think he's bloodthirsty."
Camille gibbers something, licking at his reddening lip.
"I thought so. You can't even defend yourself." Danton carefully put his book off the bed completely , very slowly and deliberately, to infuriate the dark-haired boy. "Mmm, all this political talk has made me sleepy," he says with a theatrical yawn, watching Camille's reaction out of the corner of his eye.
He's not disappointed. Camille's face goes red with anger, and he starts to sit up. "Fine! You can just go upstairs, then!"
"Ooh, I must've hit a nerve. Your stutter's gone."
This just makes Camille angrier, and he starts trying to push Danton out of the bed, shrieking at him.
Danton yawns again, not budging. "Mm, that's nice, Camille, I'm sore there."
Camille, tired at last, leans against the wall, arms crossed, the picture of a sulking child. "It's not fair to get me all excited and then fall asleep," he whines.
"No, I suppose not. At least you're quiet now. I was afraid my ears would start bleeding."
"...Danton..." Camille says, warningly.
"I feel suddenly invigorated. Where were we? Ah yes...you can't defend yourself." Allowing his desire for his little fuck to show in his eyes, he grabs Camille and throws him face down on the bed, pinning his wrists and forcing his knees wide.
Camille gasps at the sudden attack, struggling happily and completely unsuccessfully. "C-can't defend myself at all..." he coos, relaxing.
"Your stutter's back...good..." Danton growls into his ear, stroking Camille's back with one large hand, exerting pressure occasionally to make his lover groan.
Camille starts to get upset again, but is soon made helpless by Danton's ministrations.
"That's better," he says, releasing Camille's wrists and sitting on his legs, beginning to massage him.
"That's very n-nice, Danton," the Camille-puddle murmurs, "b-but it's not helping my c-cock..."
"Ah, your cock will be fine. It's these knots I'm worried about," and he continues to massage, spreading their oil (usually for other things) over the small, pale back.
Despite the soothing massage, Camille is soon squirming and making little furious, frustrated noises.
Danton is a good enough judge of his lover's tolerance by now to know when he'll explode. Just before that moment is reached, he kisses his way down Camille's spine, enjoying feeling the small body tremble under him, all the way down to his little puckered hole, which receives a brief, exploratory lick.
Camille's eyes snap open in surprised pleasure.
"It's bitter!" Danton says, also surprised. "It doesn't taste like...I thought it would."
"No reason it should," Camille says, sounding sulky but delighted, "you b-bathe me often enough."
"And aren't you glad I do, little Camille," Danton says, his curiosity satisfied for that particular act. He slides a hand between the slender thighs, cupping Camille's little manhood. It occurs to the larger man that he hasn't done much exploration of the little fellow. "Roll over," he commands.
Camille frowns a bit at the pillow, but obeys.
"Mm, not a breast in sight," Danton sighs, looking anguished by Camille's scrawny chest, one hand pressed dramatically to his great, scarred forehead. "I'll have to fatten you up, my chicken." Before Camille can get upset, Danton tweaks his nipples, licking each of them briefly, but wetly, then blowing on them.
Camille makes little indignant noises, but his eyes flutter shut.
Danton kisses his way down his lover's front. He briefly considers taking the little cock in his mouth, but decides this is undignified. Instead, he shoves a hand under Camille's little ass, running a finger along the crack, to elevate his front. For closer inspection. He grasps the cock that's straining up to meet him, watching it go from corpse-pale to seashell pink, giggling at the poetry of it.
"Wha...?" Camille asks, groggily.
"Nothing, petit. You just lie still now." He runs his hand over ever inch of Camille's bits, marveling at the soft flesh, the little spiky hairs, Camille's noises...finally, he's satisfied his curiosity.
Camille squirms harder, trying to thrust into the larger man’s hand or work one of the fingers holding his ass into somewhere more sensitive.
Danton keeps Camille back with his strong hand on Camille’s ass. “Why so restless, petit?”
“You’re still just teasing me! F-fuck me!” He scrabbles for Danton’s cock, trying to pull it into his ass. He grabs his own cock, almost without realizing he’s doing it, and starts frantically jerking off.
Danton swats away Camille’s hand, pinning both the smaller man’s wrists with one hand, his thumb teasing the small, eager pucker where he held Camille’s butt. “F-fuck you?” he teased.
Camille sits up violently, almost dislocating his shoulders as he’s abruptly brought to a halt by his wrists. Sitting up as much as he can, he yells, “At least I wasn’t stupid enough to try to feed a bull my face!”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Danton cautioned. “You’re losing your temper!” His face was split with a grin. “Now I won’t even touch your cock, let alone fuck you.” He removed his finger from Camille’s ass, pinning Camille with his legs and starting to jerk himself off on Camille’s belly.
Camille is speechless with surprise, and can only stare in rage and horror at Danton.
Danton grins, his hand moving faster. His hold on Camille’s wrists lessened as he started to cum.
Camille feels the grip loosen, and instantly springs forward. Before either of them know what he’s doing, he’s stuck a finger in Danton’s urethra.
Danton’s hand shifted to Camille’s throat. “What are you doing?!” He backed up his hips to escape Camille’s finger. Cum bubbles out and drips onto Camille.
Camille’s eyes are huge with shock, and he scrabbles at the hand on his throat. “I…I h-have n-no idea!” he cries, then abruptly starts laughing, pulling his finger free. “There you are.”
“Roll over,” says Danton, stone faced.
Camille stops laughing, looking genuinely concerned. “Georges,” he calls him, a sign of his distress, “I’m s-sorry…”
“Not yet you’re not.” Danton smirks, flipping his lover, pouring some oil onto his cock and Camille’s hole and forcing his way in none too slowly.
Camille squirms, jerks and bucks, making little squeaking noises that are eventually muffled as he bites a pillow. “I l-love your s-s-scars. You kn-know that, G-Georges,” he murmurs, hardly audible, between his cries.
“And I love your anger.” Danton held Camille almost tenderly by his hip, the other hand grabbing the reddened cock between Camille’s legs.
“Ah-ah!” he cries, jerking into Danton’s hand, bucking as much as he can under his lover. “I’m close!”
“Viens,” Danton growled into his lover’s neck, his body pressing down against little Camille.
Camille comes screaming, and probably would have hurt himself if he hadn’t been immobilized by Danton. He soon goes limp, panting. “…crushing…”
Danton pulls out, kneeling, and cums over Camille’s butt and back. He then flops next to his boneless lover, panting.
"Agh...how..." Camille mutters quietly. "You...already..." he nestles against Danton, kissing his scar, doing his best to look apologetic.
"You getting all red made me hard again," he chuckled. He pulled his little lover onto his breast. "Je t'aime, my little tyrant."
Camille gasps and gapes at him for a moment, before crying, "Tyrant?!"
"Aren't you?" Danton smiled at him innocently. "Or you prefer terror?"
"You had better mean tyrant in the original Greek sense," Camille mutters, "and I'm ignoring that last part. You had b-better forget about it."
"Whatever you say, little tyrant." Danton kissed Camille to stop any more protests.
Camille makes muffled noises into Danton's lips before finally relenting and kissing back. But he makes sure to pinch his lover's nipples while he's distracted.
Danton growls into the kiss, tweaking Camille's cock and pulling the foreskin over his head.
"Mph!" Camille squeaks, trying to squirm away, only to be pulled short by his lip and cock.
Danton snickers, releasing Camille's lip. "You don't have any string, do you?" he asks, looking curiously down at Camille's cock.
Camille misses his glance, and answers innocently, "S-string? Not here, n-no. Why?" He's busy nursing his lip.
"To tie your cock in, of course!" he grins down at Camille.
"What?! Why would you want to do that?!" he says incredulously, trying to pull his cock free. "You'll b-break it!"
"I will not. It's a hardy little thing," Danton teased.
"Not like yours, it's n-not," he says, grinning despite himself.
"There's a smile." Danton chuckled, releasing Camille's foreskin. "My sweet terror."
"Is that what you were w-waiting for?" he says, grinning harder, before poking hard at Danton's perineum. "Terror, indeed."
"Mhm, tiny terror of a child." He kisses Camille's eyelid.
Camille happy-sulks his way into Danton's arms, cooing softly as he rearranges his lover to his liking.
"What am I, a pile of cushions for you?" Danton laughs.
"Mhm. What else would you be?" he giggles.
"Your dearest, sweetest, most forgiving lover." Danton fluttered his eyelashes, which was odd to see on a large, hairy man like him.
Camille laughs, snuggling closer with a happy yawn. "You're all those things, but that takes far too long to say. I'll call you Danton for short."
"Not 'Georges, please, I love you and your scars!'?"
"What?" he says, the image of hurt innocence.
"You only call me Georges when you think you've hurt my feelings."
"That's...absurd..." he says, averting his gaze. "I call you lots of things. All the t-time."
"Stuttering again?" Why do you call me Danton most of the time?"
"Because it's your n-name, old s-scarface," he says, matter of factly.
Danton frowns, rolling over and pulling Camille under him to crush him. "What was that?"
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