The Love Model Sessions

1.

Jean-Luc wrapped himself perfectly around Arthur. He was hot to the touch, veins thick with the strain of such prolonged excitement. Arthur's pulse throbbed against the clammy palm of Jean-Luc's hand strong and steady. Even the simple act of holding Arthur in hand had him harder, and turning a darker blushing shade as he willed greatly to contain himself.

The tips of Jean-Luc's fingers and thumb barely touched as he made a loving fist around that hot hard flesh, the feeling so magical for the both of them that they both uttered an appreciative moan in unison. Such eroticism stirred Arthur as he gazed down upon Jean-Luc, whose hot breath alone threatened to send him over the edge.

That moment would come, inevitably, and Jean-Luc was playing his part in hinting at the fact as he marvelled at the size and weight of the sex organ within his grasp - one he wanted to fill his mouth with, but not only that.

Jean-Luc barely hid a devilish smile, but the broad shaft of the magnificent cock in his hand did well to obscure his lips. Gazing back up at Arthur as he lay on his tummy between Arthur's spread thighs, he inhaled through his nostrils.

And inhale he did deeply, permeating the growing sexual void within himself with the sweet seminal essence of the proud stag before him. Arthur's masculine scent made him high, giddy, made his mouth water all the more.

The powerful phallus in the grip of Jean-Luc's fist now oozed all the more in response to its coaxing into a more heightened state of arousal. Arthur, jaw clenched into a subtle grimace, breathed deep and even, as he fought off the temptation to simply let go.

And while he fought that devilish temptress stirring deep down - an invisible but palpable manifestation of sexual delirium, he positively dribbled down the underside of the shaft of his length, over the back of Jean-Luc's thumb, and then across the back of his hand.

2.

Jean-Luc lowered himself, snaked out his tongue, and licked the fluid up from that hand, savouring in its salty taste and the mildly anaesthetic effect it had on his tastebuds. Unable to stop himself he then ran the tip of his tongue up the shaft, licking it all up.

Arthur hissed, tensed. "Let go a second," he urged. "You're going to make me..."

Jean-Luc grinned as his eyes penetrated Arthur with intent. "Maybe I've changed my mind..."

Arthur was panting now, faster, harder. "Please, not like this," Arthur implored, glassy eyes widening with urgency.

Without any of the same haste, Jean-Luc relented, still grinning, and let go. A sigh of relief from Arthur preceded his own sigh, and contrasted it, for Jean-Luc's was one of lusty inspiration.

How Arthur stood up tall and proud without a hand to support him. He stood impeccably straight, a perfect ninety-degree angle.

"Oh fuck, yes," Jean-Luc gushed, eyes now like saucers. What a nice snug fit that would make for, and with the right amout of spit or lube, an excruciatingly long and satisfying slippery slide.

"Changed your mind about what?" Arthur asked after regaining some composure. The devil in Jean-Luc was all but decided now.

"About daring you not to cum," Jean-Luc reminded briefly, before snaking his fingers around the base of Arthur's throbbing monument to manly arousal once more. With a seductive glare and a wet tongue brushing across his lips, he declared, "I'm going to make you beg to cum instead."

Jean-Luc leaned in, brushing his smooth cheek against Arthur's seven-plus inches, then playfully, frankly villainously, proceeded to snake his lips around the shaft, breathing hotly all around it. Then he gave it a kiss, and a kiss which could have meant half a dozen things at once.

Loving, lusting, teasing, hungering...

He kissed it again, then feigned an act to consume Arthur whole, instead scraping his teeth across the ruddy flesh.

"Sheeeeezus!" Arthur hissed, tightening up all over and instinctively reaching for the rail at the head of his bed like a man trapped in a cage with a carnivorous animal.

And again Jean-Luc opened his mouth to grip his prey, but this time he dragged out the full length of his pink tongue and slid wetly from bottom to top. Arthur's hands now made fists around the rungs of the rail behind him, holding on for dear life.

Now he was the captive audience, highly strung on tenterhooks as Jean-Luc moved like a serpent up and down his manhood, kissing and licking him where he imagined it throbbed hardest. And there was where Jean-Luc was happiest, at least for now...

Insulated by the trembling muscular thighs of a strong man made sexually submissive, growing hotter by the second, rendering, dripping, sizzling, prime rib from frying pan to fire - destined for hungry mouth and growling stomach.

So much flesh that Jean-Luc's free hand roamed tirelessly, spoilt for choice. From thigh to loin and to a tantalisingly erect nipple, he had his fill before his mouth got to work at all. But when that occasion did come in full, he let it be known by rising to it.

Arching his butt into the air, sliding up onto his knees, and then to one elbow as his free hand came to caress Arthur's lower abdomen, Jean-Luc raised his head and then hung low, aligning his lips with the leaking tip of the bulbous glans before him, and parted his lips once more.

The saliva that had been welling at the inside of his cheeks now came in a steady drool, hot and alkaline, bathing the magnificent prick barely inches away. And inhaling deeply once more, and feeling the anticipation within himself finally come boiling over, he spoke his choice of words very clearly.

"I've wanted to do this since I first met you," he said, and then with a tantalisingly slow shift, he plunged downward to both give and to receive.

3.

Arthur lay paralysed with curiosity and wanton excitement as those words made home inside of him while willingly submitting to the seductive assault of his physical senses. Disbelieving, his mouth agape and speechless, all that came to him was a steady rising growl.

He watched helplessly, captivated by the sight and sensation of those lips sliding like silk over the head of his straining cock, and then down, further down, all the way down the shaft.

He felt the guiding tickle of the tip of Jean-Luc's tongue, then the delicious roughness of his tastebuds, as he glided into the natural suction point before a hot wet stream took him deepthroat.

"Oh, I love you," Arthur gasped on the back of a series of prolonged sobs.

"And hold!" Jean-Luc told himself, mouth and throat both satisfyingly full of cock.

He looked up into Arthur's eyes again finally, with a look that hoped to convey what Arthur's reflexive rambling made him feel. Too soon he lost himself in the taste of Arthur, which now seemed to come to life even at the back of his throat where the urge to gag just seemed to try to suck him deeper.

Again, here was where he wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world. Here between Arthur's legs, and soon to be under him, and on top of him, and in whichever way Arthur would like to have him when the time was right.

Here right now, though, was perfection enough for Jean-Luc. Taking power through yielding, and with an empowering desire to give himself.

The long slurp back up and out was no less intense. Now as though Arthur were the caged animal he was growling unreservedly, bucking his hips up as Jean-Luc's water-tight suction teased such tight slippery delight.

Inevitably they both parted with a loud wet pop and a shared exhilerated gasp. Unreservedly sliding fist gently up and down Arthur's soaked hard-on now, Jean-Luc teased, "I bet you wouldn't do that on camera," with a wink.

"I don't think... I'd care where that happened again... your mouth is..."

Arthur was not finding the words nor the breath to say what it was he wanted to say.

"Then I think we've got our next session down," Jean-Luc teased, planting another kiss. "Mmm," he then groaned, tasting Arthur on his lips, and was tempted enough to polish off the resulting beads of pre-cum with his dextrous snake-like tongue.

Before silence could dominate the aftermath, and before Jean-Luc could allow himself further - because all along he was just competing for the title of "Most Terrible Tease" - he was on top of Arthur, straddling his hips, working their lips and tongues back into a froth.

4.

"So where do you want to go date?" Arthur asked, wrapping up the young man's body in his strong arms.

"To be honest I don't even care," Jean-Luc snickered, adoring the man under him. "I just want to see what happens the next time we get naked together."

Grinning, Arthur rolled them over to the other side of the bed, so that he was now the dominant one. The not-so-surprised yelp escaping Jean-Luc's lips oozed approval.

"Well, the next time we might have to behave ourselves," Arthur chuckled, his hands roaming tenderly over every inch of flesh within reach. And did they reach, downwards, until they found purchase of the current matter.

"Oh?" Jean-Luc's question sounded just as much a reaction to being so delicately manhandled.

"If you had your way we'd end up having full-on sex in front of that poor woman," Arthur said, rising up to his haunches. He began to massage the love muscle filling his hands, gently, venturing down to cradle the full testicles hanging underneath.

Jean-Luc's eyes rolled up in their sockets and his mouth came open in a sweet sight. "And? She's practically dripping wet watching us lose control a little more every next session."

"You think?" Arthur asked.

"I actually know her," Jean-Luc insisted, eyes now closed, hips gently dancing to the rhythm of his own tender physical manipulations. "And I know women more than you might think. She's into it!"

Arthur considered this revelation with surprising level-headedness. "And you?"

"Am I into getting her off?" Jean-Luc asked on the back of a giddy breath as he felt the warm velvety inner flesh of a mouth envelop the tip of his penis. "Yes! Would you like to know why?"

"Mmmm," came Arthur's full-mouthed reply as he tenderly sucked Jean-Luc into his hot depths with relish and ease.

"Maybe I tell you, maybe I show you," Jean-Luc teased, and attempted a laugh, which turned into a breathless moan as his eyes opened to the delight of seeing himself swallowed whole now.

"Ha... Hold!" he sputtered.

5.

That afternoon the wind picked up again, coming in from northwest of the Atlantic coastline. By twilight the stark wintry blue had been replaced with an ominous heavy leaden overcast, bruised and brooding.

And as evening entered with the abyssal black of night's darkest hour, so came the rain again. With an affectionate kiss Jean-Luc left Arthur to his dinner plans and dashed out into the street and into the backseat of a private hire.

By the time he was back home under a hot shower, enveloped in a steam that seemed to pale in comparison to the activities of the day with his hot date, the sky was crashing down with an unexpected fury.

Jean-Luc was then stood in the galley kitchen of his small apartment clad in nothing but a bath towel around his waist, another around his neck, and a pair of flipflops which he used at the local baths.

He was brewing tea, heavy on the sugar, and steeping an equally sugary pot of oats in hot milk when the phone rang and Carrie's name came up. She sounded sleepy, which was out of sorts for 7:30pm. Carrie, who lived on caffeine and chocolate and nicotine, notably also had little reason to be tired, unless she had been glued to a digital screen.

"You sound out of it," Jean-Luc noted after skirting around the typical subjects. It was definitely not Carrie's style to do that. She was sometimes so abruptly to the point that it intimidated those of a more sensitive disposition. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, I think I'm treating myself to an earlier night. Just wanted to check in and ask your thoughts like we talked about earlier this week," came the distant voice. "Is Arthur with you again?"

"No I just got home. He took me to dinner earlier."

Carrie was not in bed yet though. This evening she was sat in her modest little armchair in the living room, television off, fireplace on, and laptop computer creating a notably warm spot in her crotch. She was wearing a lot less than anyone would be used to - just an oversized white printed t-shirt which hid only a pair of knickers.

Still, the crocs. And still, the garish childish socks. Her blank expression had brought the whole picture together for a moment, until the last comment caused a look of overt perplexion.

"Dinner, eh?!" she nudged. "And then what?"

"We put our heads together," Jean-Luc offered sparsely, his tone betraying any chance of saying nothing further. "You know, worked on our chemistry... for the next session, you understand."

Stirring his steamy mug of tea he then fished out the bag, which he dumped into another mug filled with dried used teabags from the last two days.

"Uh-huh," Carrie replied, not convinced. There was a smirk in the tone of her voice, a knowingness. She had heard it all before.

"I mean I really think you two are becoming very natural in the mood that the project is assuming as it all takes shape," Carrie offered. She pinched her lips together, suppressed the blush rising in her cheeks, and tore her eyes away from the glowing screen of the PC in her lap.

Himself blushing, Jean-Luc queried, "so, were today's poses more to the point?"

Carrie giggled at that. "Well, the point being?!"

A burning question and a telling remark all in one. Jean-Luc blushed harder, now stirring his milky oats. "Hotter or colder?" he pushed, forgiving his own curtness.

"Darling, I have a dilemma and I don't know how to say it without feeling awful asking," Carrie said, leaving an awkward pause as she hoped he would read her social cue and help fill in the gaps.

"Well then feel awful about it and just tell me, or ask, whatever," Jean-Luc said cutely, rubbing at his damp hair with a clump of the towel hung around his neck. "Dancing around it won't make it any clearer, no?"

"I think the next session may have to be our last on the project, at least for the foreseeable," Carrie answered abruptly. With cold determination she continued. "I don't want it to be, as it's really come into its own so quickly..."

Jean-Luc stood dismayed, almost defeated, not believing his ears. The only thing he could think to respond with was a single word. Staring blankly into space he simply asked, "why?"

"I can't afford to keep paying you both out of my own pocket for very long, so that was always going to be a factor," Carrie explained, which was undeniably true and reasonable enough from Jean-Luc's perspective. It saddened him, but he understood what it was like to be broke.

"You want to see my heating bill alone," Carrie went on. "It's enough to make the eyes water."

"I totally get that," Jean-Luc broke his silence tenderly. "You do run that studio like a walk-in incinerator."

They both laughed a moment, and raucously. "Are you trying to say that I am a cold blooded bitch?" Carrie quizzed with suppressed humour in her tone.

"Never, darling," Jean-Luc disarmed with genuine affection.

"Good! So I suppose my question is this," Carrie pitched nervously. "How about you and your, err, performance partner bring what you were working on today?"

It was Jean-Luc's turn to giggle now. Again he stirred up his oats, then swiftly sucked the sweet milky residue clean off the spoon. "Do you even know what you're asking?" he asked with a dirty laugh that just refused to be contained.

"Scaredy-cat," Carrie teased.

"Like I don't notice you shaking like a leaf every time I climb naked into your crush's lap," Jean-Luc teased wickedly.

Carrie burst into harsh laughter again at that. "Fuck off!"

"You leave the next session and Arthur to me," Jean-Luc assured after laughing off his friend and mentor. "You just set up the scene you want and, you know... capture the magic."

"Mmmm," Carrie groaned under her breath, then loudly clearing her throat. "Yes, very good, I await our next session with... great anticipation!"

6.

Arthur had an earworm, it was a symbiotic thing. It began to grow when he met a certain boy. When his hormones then his feelings flourished, nerves tingling with the love of danger, both body and mind jingling - then a voice began to sing!

That earworm caused a feedback loop, a wordless voice, a cyclic melody. A musical paradox, a lucid dream, an emotional dichotomy. The mathematics of poetry, the mysticism of wisdom, the music wrote itself like prophecy.

As goes with the magic of music, fingertips make breath, electricity makes ether, and synth gives life to mimicry. Knowledge is power, time is experience, and destiny manifests in invisible forms.

Arthur looked to the clock, his coffee cold, and saw that surprisingly little time had passed but felt that he was drained. 9:30pm, not bad at all for an evening session making such an intriguing something from a relative nothing...

Nothing but the culmination of his experiences of late, his feelings about it, and that ability he had to live and breathe and to feel music.

It was a dreamy ethereal piece, deceptively calm, illusively shallow, like walking ankle-deep into a river only to find onseself fully immersed and pulled far away on undercurrents of... what?

It needed something, but that something wasn't coming to him tonight. What he would rather know, what divined him now that he had awoken from his musical trance, lay virtually a short distance from his fingertips.

Saving his audio files and powering off his laptop and keyboard, Arthur sipped from his cold coffee on the way to the kitchen where he would dump it down the drain and instead pour himself some water.

One-handed all the while, Arthur thumbed his way into his WhatsApp and hovered over Jean-Luc's name. It became apparent to him then just how mentally drained he really was. He was coming up blank for things to say.

And it wasn't that it mattered what he could say, other than not wanting to come across as neurotic or cynical. That was something that made him contemplate feelings he had yet to face, despite having lept into action so daringly with the boy on his mind.

He liked Jean-Luc, a lot! He was now realising that he wanted Jean-Luc to keep seeing nothing but his better qualities.

"Arthur, you dramatic over-thinking ass," he said to himself. All he needed was an ice-breaker, if even that considering the hot and heavy day they'd shared.

"If money and time were no object, what would you be doing right now?" Simple and corny enough.

Jean-Luc replied quickly. Arthur smiled to himself. "Did you win the lotto?"

"Nah, got to be in it to win it," Arthur rapidly typed. "I'm not the money kind of lucky," he added. He took his water up to bed, put it on the nightstand, and flipped on the television, volume muted, and threw off his shirt, then shucked off the grey cotton sweatpants he wore that evening to fend off the rain's moist chill. Underneath he was naked, hanging free.

"I'm not even the money kind of motivated," Jean-Luc sent back. "I don't know how to answer these kinds of questions." He himself was laid back comfy in his couch in front of the TV back home.

"I was only after your attention anyway," Arthur admitted, slipping under the crumpled duvet. He had not made the bed since he and Jean-Luc had occupied it that afternoon. It smelled faintly of him, of his natural scent - his body, his hair, the musk of his perspiration which oddly smelled like nobody else.

"Aw, do you miss me? What are you doing now?" Jean-Luc asked. The television was no longer of importance. He muted it, abandoned the controls, and fell head over heels into his phone.