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Isaac was starting to wonder if he should tell Laurent about his checkered past selling blowjobs for money.
It was obvious by then that they were dating. They spent a lot of time together, and even though they were in fierce competition on the ice, it didn’t seem to affect their relationship, whatsoever. Isaac hated admitting that Belsey was right about anything, but playing with someone of Laurent’s considerable skill was seriously improving Isaac’s own. Even without the specter of his father’s presence, though, Laurent still didn’t see playing hockey as anything other than work. It made Isaac sad.
The new, mellow Laurent was an improvement in the locker room as well. Laurent still kept mostly to himself and only talked to Isaac or sometimes Hux—mostly about comics—but at least he wasn’t infuriating people on a daily basis. The team won more games than they lost, and Laurent and Isaac had the lowest goals-against average in the entire league. Hockey would never be a source of joy for Laurent, but he was much different than the sullen, angry young man who’d shown up in July to be Isaac’s back-up.
While Isaac wasn’t lying about his past, he had the nagging feeling that he should tell Laurent about it anyway. Because maybe a guy wanted to know that his first boyfriend used to suck cock for money.
He thought about it a lot—telling Laurent, not sucking dick for money—though he did think about sucking Laurent’s dick for free. Finally he brought it up with Misha during one of their pick-up hockey games.
Sometimes Max came along, but that time it was just Misha and Isaac. Tall and broad-shouldered, wearing his Bruins jersey, Misha looked even more intimidating playing hockey than coaching it.
Isaac took his place in goal and let Misha fire pucks at him. Sometimes they switched it up, and Isaac tried out his prowess at being a forward—terrible—or playing defense—better—but he loved playing goalie even if Misha’s slapshot was terrifying.
“Did Coach Ashford know about the thing in Russia before you told me about it?”
The thing in Russia was Isaac’s nice way of asking if Max knew what Misha had done to get enough money to come to America. Namely that he had sex with men for money.
Isaac wondered how much Misha had charged, but the sun would explode before he’d ever ask that.
Misha hated talking about anything personal, and Isaac respected that and never brought up their shared experiences with the world’s oldest profession. But that question was important, and the rule for Wednesday hockey was that Isaac could ask whatever he wanted.
“No,” said Misha and sent a shot toward him that made Isaac drop to his knees and try to stop it with the edge of his skate. It almost worked, but not quite.
“Were you gonna tell him?” Isaac asked as he sent the puck back.
The look Misha was giving him spoke volumes to both the answer and his comfort level with the conversation. He muttered something in Russian and then said, “What do you think?”
“The scowl you’re giving me says no.” He moved easily and caught Misha’s next shot in his glove. “Are you glad he knows, though?”
Misha considered that and idly bounced the puck on his stick as he did so. “That is hard to say. I don’t regret telling him.”
He said that so carefully that Isaac snorted. “But do you wish he didn’t have to know? I’m not gonna, like, think you mean that you wish you hadn’t told me or anything,” Isaac assured him.
“I am glad to know that he doesn’t think less of me. But I am not like Max, who could not keep this secret inside if it were his. It would eat away at him.”
“But not you?”
“No.” Misha’s smile was cold and flat. “I am used to having secrets.”
“You just sounded like a Bond villain,” Isaac said. “I know Max thinks that’s hot, but dude.”
“Your tastes are more Bond boys than Bond villains. Yes?”
Isaac laughed out loud. “Yup. Damn. I wish that was a thing.”
“You want to tell St. Savoy about Columbia?”
Damn it. Misha scored a goal as Isaac tried to stop the puck and realized that his coach knew he and Laurent were a thing. “So you figured that out.”
“You are as subtle as Max,” Misha said.
Isaac scowled. “We’ve been careful.”
“He’s been tolerable.” Misha flashed a grin at him. “It was either that or you got him hooked on drugs.”
Misha didn’t smile all that often, and Isaac only saw him grin very rarely. It made him look like a different person, and younger and less severe than usual.
Like Laurent.
“Yeah. I want to tell him about Columbia.” Isaac paused. “And is it a problem? About me and him.”
“You’re not talking to your coach,” Misha reminded him. “If you were, he would have told you that was a soft goal you just let in.”
“My coach is such an asshole.” Isaac repositioned himself, and caught Misha’s next shot with a flashy glove save. He slammed it on the ice in a moment of celebratory enthusiasm.
“Stop showing off, or I’ll make you do laps.”
“What happened to ‘you’re not talking to your coach’?”
“You’re being cocky,” said Misha, a smile in his voice. “And I think that you should tell him.”
“Why? Because he should know? Or because I can’t keep my secrets buried like you?”
“Well, the second one. Yes. But that is good, Isaac. It is not good to carry around things like I did.” He sighed. “Or so Max tells me every day. But you and I, we have... a similar story. Yes. But you’re not....”
Not what? Russian? Expensive? Isaac waited, curious.
“You’re not ashamed,” Misha said finally. “I was.”
That was probably true. Isaac wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done. He just didn’t want it to fuck up anything for his team or his coaches. His fears last season when Creepy Jeff came skulking around weren’t about him as much as what it might do to everyone else if his past were exposed in all its cheap-handjob and moderately-priced-blowjob glory.
Personally he thought the guys who paid for it should feel a lot more ashamed of themselves, if only because most of them were married or lying about being straight. “I’m not ashamed, but it’s not like I’m all that proud of it. I did it, and it’s done with.”
“Then why do you want to tell him?”
“What if he finds out, and I’m not the one who told him? You know how he is.” Isaac waved a hand.
Misha gave him a strange look. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t. I don’t think he does either. You might be the only person who does.”
Isaac groaned. “Jesus Christ, Misha.”
Misha gave him an enigmatic sort of smile and shot the puck again. This time Isaac stopped it. He didn’t celebrate with a flashy move, and Misha nodded in approval.
The thing was, Isaac didn’t think he should blow Laurent until he told him about the blowjobs for money. And he wanted to blow Laurent. Badly.
“What if he doesn’t—” Isaac stopped. He felt stupid. “Pretend I didn’t start saying that and shoot the puck at me some more, please.”
Misha studied him quietly for a moment, but did as Isaac asked and tried to fire another stick-side shot in on him. They finished their game, changed, and headed back into the night to go home.
As they pulled into the driveway, Misha turned to him and said, “If he’s ashamed of something that you’ve done, and you’re not ashamed of it, then you don’t want to give him anything more of yourself.”
Isaac, who had been lost in his own thoughts, blinked owlishly up at Misha. “Umm.”
“I’m glad that Max knows. I could have kept it a secret, but I’m glad that I didn’t.” Misha made a face. “Now we will stop talking about feelings. But whatever you decide to do, Isaac, don’t let him treat you like what you did made you worthless. Because it didn’t, and you’re not.”
Touched, Isaac ducked his head, gave a gruff “thanks,” and went inside.
––––––––
Deciding the best place to have the conversation was somewhere they could be alone, Isaac waited until an off day, then packed up the Jeep, grabbed his cranky, uptight boyfriend, and headed for Lake Pinnacle—about an hour outside of Spartanburg.
“We’re going to Pumpkintown?” Laurent eyed him. He wasn’t as warmly dressed as Isaac, but maybe he was used to colder weather. Growing up in his house had to have been plenty frigid. “Is this some kind of festival? Because I hate those.”
“You’ve never been to a festival in your life,” Isaac said. Laurent’s immediate reaction to things that made him uncomfortable was to be suspicious and express dislike. Unless it came to his dick. He was getting on board with new experiences when it came to that.
“Because I hate them.” Laurent crossed his arms and fixed Isaac with a scowl.
Isaac grinned and leaned over and kissed him. He bit sharply at Laurent’s lip while he pulled away. “It’s not a festival. Shush. But I did bring some marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers,” he said as they headed toward Table Rock State Park. “We’re making s’mores. I know. I win at dates.”
“Why?”
“You have no romance in your soul. Aren’t you French people supposed to be good at that?”
“I’m American,” Laurent snapped, and Isaac realized that Laurent was nervous.
“Well, yeah. The “not having a sense of humor about yourself” thing you’re doing is proving that. Thanks.” Isaac smiled at him and reached over to brush his fingers through Laurent’s thick, dark hair. That usually seemed to relax him. “Calm down. This place is nice. I promise.”
Laurent kept staring mistrustfully at Isaac until Isaac finally gave in and asked, “What?”
“I don’t get you,” Laurent said, as if Isaac were the complicated one between the two of them. “We could have just had candy and made out in my apartment.”
Isaac laughed so hard, he nearly drove the Jeep off the road. “It’s a date,” he said patiently. “The point is to go somewhere.”
“I thought the point was—”
“Saint, stop talking until we get there,” Isaac said, and he thought he saw Laurent smirk with something very much like satisfaction before he settled back in his seat.
Hmph. Isaac turned up the music and made Laurent suffer through his rendition of a Stone Temple Pilots song as they made their way to the State Park. Once there, Isaac found an empty campsite with a fire pit and started unloading the Jeep.
“You have a lot of camping shit,” Laurent said from the small picnic table. The wind rustled his dark hair, and the cold air brought two spots of color to his fair skin. He looked like he should be in a teen movie. “We’re not sleeping here, are we?”
“Uh. Are you crazy? No. I like camping, but not when it’s twenty below outside.”
“It’s like, fifty-three degrees. You’re a wimp about the cold.”
Isaac almost reminded him that he’d spent enough time sleeping in the elements, but he wasn’t quite ready to bring that up. He piled the blankets and got the cooler, the makings for the s’mores, and a thing of lighter fluid. “We gotta find some sticks.”
“Why?”
“So I can poke you with them. Why do you think? So we can have a fire, and make s’mores, and you are the worst at dating, dude.”
“I told you,” Laurent said, but he hopped off the table and obediently went with Isaac to find sticks. He wasn’t good at it, and twice he picked up wood that was wet, leading Isaac to say something about how he didn’t know good wood when he saw it, and Laurent to agree that Isaac was probably the expert.
They smiled at each other in the afternoon sunlight, and Isaac realized Laurent wasn’t the only one who was nervous. God. He didn’t want his confession to be the end of things between them.
It was a lot colder than Isaac anticipated—fine, he was a wimp about the cold—but the fire, once it got going, was warm enough to keep the edge off the chill. He didn’t plan to stay long after dark, but given how well things did or didn’t go, they might be out of there before the sun set.
First though, they were totally going to make s’mores. Even if Isaac had never made one before and didn’t know how.
It turned out that getting the various s’more components together was messier and more dangerous than he’d anticipated. He burned his fingers, Laurent laughed at him until he did the same thing, the chocolate was too melty to eat, and one of his graham crackers caught on fire.
In the end they settled for drinking beer and eating the chocolate and the graham crackers while setting sticks full of marshmallows on fire.
The water and the fresh air—and the lack of people—were relaxing Laurent, as Isaac knew they would. So he pushed aside his nervousness and said, “When I was living on my own, I camped a lot in State Parks.”
“I hate camping” was Laurent’s predictable response.
“Well, me too. But sleeping in the woods is better than sleeping behind a Kroger’s.” Isaac traced letters in the dirt with the tip of his marshmallow-coated stick. “I had to do a lot of shit too, y’know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
Laurent didn’t sound like an ass as much as he was stating a fact. He didn’t know, because the sort of life he’d lived was totally different than Isaac’s. Laurent envied Isaac the freedom to escape a house where he was miserable, where Isaac envied him not having to sleep on the streets. Though, given the choice between his experience and what he knew of Denis St. Savoy, Isaac probably still would have gone with Kroger’s.
“I started hitching for rides after I decided to leave Cordova, trying to find places with ECHL teams so I could try out. I knew I needed to do it soon, while I was still good enough to make a team and had halfway-decent gear.” Isaac gave a brief smile. “That’s the only thing I took with me when I left home. Well, that and my MP3 player. But it didn’t have a charger. Anyway I ended up in Columbia, but tryouts weren’t for a few months yet, so I needed to do something to make money.”
Isaac looked over, but Laurent was just watching him, intent like they were in goal, his sweater sleeves pulled over his hands. He was also eating marshmallows out of the bag, despite having said earlier that he didn’t like them. The liar.
“You had sex for money,” Laurent said. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me, with the slasher-movie date locale?”
Isaac blinked. “What? Did you—yeah, actually. But I wasn’t thinking slasher movie as much as a teen romcom.”
Laurent kept staring at him. “So you’re telling me that you thought about where I’d like to hear the news my boyfriend gave head or handjobs or whatever for money?”
Isaac wasn’t often struck speechless, but it happened right then. He gaped at Laurent, working his mouth, unable to decide if he was worried about Laurent’s reaction or elated that Laurent had just called him his boyfriend.
“Yeah, actually,” Isaac said at length as Laurent popped another marshmallow in his mouth. “I thought pretty scenery might make it sound more... y’know.”
“More what? Woodsy?” Laurent shrugged. “You could have told me wherever.”
“I—you don’t make any sense. Not even a little,” said Isaac, frustrated that he couldn’t tell what Laurent was thinking about Isaac’s big reveal. “I can’t tell if you’re mad at me for this date or for being a former rentboy—I don’t do it anymore, by the way—or what. Also, how did you...?”
“I just figured. You said you lived on the streets, and you’re good at handjobs.” Laurent studied him. “Is that insulting that I thought that? It probably is, isn’t it.”
“I don’t.... Maybe, but I....” Isaac shook his head. “I thought you should know. Before I....” fell in love with you. Oh, no. “Blew you,” Isaac finished.
“Why? Are you going to charge me?”
Isaac considered throwing a punch at Laurent until he saw the small smile on his mouth. “I might.”
“I have a few of these marshmallows left,” Laurent said, holding up the bag.
“See? I’m good for you. I make you like things you didn’t before. Like hockey and dick and marshmallows.”
“You—yeah,” Laurent said, looking down. He muttered something Isaac couldn’t hear.
“What?”
“I said, yeah. You’re good for me. Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m going to get crazy, and you’ll leave me here, and I’ve never spent a night in the woods in my entire life.”
Isaac moved closer and bumped him with his shoulder. “Are you disgusted? Ashamed? Sickened?”
“What? No.” Laurent shook his head again. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, Isaac. If I were like you, I would have told my father to fuck himself and done the same thing you did. But I couldn’t.”
“You think I’m brave for selling blowjobs?”
“I think you’re brave for not being afraid.” Laurent’s face went cold and shut down. It was a look that meant he was going to say something vicious. And he did, but not about Isaac. “I’m saying you’re not a coward who learned how to be a bully like me.”
Isaac had to think a minute before he answered. “I didn’t grow up with your father. I don’t know what I would have done. But I’m telling you this because you should know. I’m clean and everything, I was always careful. And I’m not ashamed of it. But I don’t... I mean, I’ve never been in this position where I had someone I thought should know about it. Maybe it’s a deal breaker for you. I don’t know.”
Laurent laughed and raked a hand through his hair. “You think what you did to survive on the streets and play the game you love means you’re not good enough for me? Me? Do you remember what I did to you? Why the fuck would you even think—that’s stupid. Who the fuck am I to judge you for anything you’ve done?”
Isaac still had no idea how to gauge Laurent’s reaction, which bothered him. “You know it means something for me to tell you this.”
“Duh.”
Isaac glared at him and then threw a marshmallow. “Seriously.”
“I know. Do you know how? I feel like this all the time. Every time I tell you something, or show you my sketchbook, or whatever. It’s like tearing out everything I am and throwing it on the ground and hoping you don’t stomp on it with those ridiculous boots you always wear.” Laurent took a drink of his beer. “And I hate it. So I get it.”
“This is definitely not a teen romcom,” Isaac said.
“That’s because we’re not teenagers.” Laurent drew his knees up to his chest. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. What am I supposed to say?”
Isaac honestly had no idea. “I wanted to tell you. So you knew.”
“Now I know.” Laurent rested his cheek on his arms, which were wrapped around his drawn-up knees. “Did you tell anyone else?”
Isaac nodded. “Yeah. I kind of had to. Last year I had a former trick show up and try and blackmail me into doing bareback porn or he’d tell the team and the media about me. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to the team because of me, so I tried to quit. Misha and Max wouldn’t let me.”
“Of course they wouldn’t let you quit. What happened to the guy who wanted to make you the next Ron Jeremy?”
“I guess he got the hint I wasn’t interested, when he showed up one last time to convince me, and Misha put the fear of God into him.” Isaac was still not sure if Laurent understood why it was important that they were having the conversation, or how it clearly meant that Isaac had feelings for him.
How could he understand? He has the emotional maturity of a toadstool. Not all his fault. But still.
Isaac nudged him again. “Hey.”
“What?” Laurent looked at him warily. “Is there something else?”
“I—no? Should I take you home?”
“Eventually.” Laurent reached out and tentatively put his hand on Isaac’s knee. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who made me not want to be who I am. So look. Whatever you had to do to become that person, do you think I care? I live with someone every goddamn day who disgusts me, Isaac. Trust me. It’s not you.”
“You don’t live with your dad anymore,” Isaac reminded him.
“I wasn’t talking about my dad.”
It finally occurred to Isaac that he could confess to murder and Laurent wouldn’t care.
The worst person Laurent knew wasn’t his father—it was himself.
“I can tell you’re not ashamed, and I’m glad. I’m glad you’re safe and that no one is trying to hurt you for what you used to do. There. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I don’t want to hear anything. I just wanted you to know.”
“Because that’s how you are. You don’t do things that disgust you. You’re better than that. That’s not new information, Isaac. You’re not—”
You’re not me.
Isaac knew that’s what Laurent meant, but he didn’t want to hear Laurent say it. So he reached out and put his hand over his mouth. “My God. Stop talking.”
Laurent’s dark eyes narrowed at him, but he was quiet.
“I wish you didn’t hate yourself so much.” Isaac dropped his hand. “I don’t hate you. If I did, I wouldn’t have cared about telling you about my sordid past.”
Laurent sighed. “I know. I’m trying. Things are so much better for me here, Isaac. But sometimes I remember that it can’t last, and I just want to give up and go back to being how I was before. And I keep waiting for you to figure out that I’m not worth this trouble.”
“Oh my God. This is an indie drama, and we’re at Sundance.” Isaac watched as the sun began to sink. It made the sky golden and threw a soft glow over the woods and the sparkling water. “I like you. That’s why I told you. Can you just deal with that?”
“Yeah. I can. And I like you, but I don’t like me. Can you deal with that?”
“Yeah. But don’t think I’m not going to try to make you stop being so emo all the time, sad panda that you are.”
“Good luck with that.” Laurent surprised Isaac when he leaned over and kissed him. His mouth was warm and tasted like marshmallows and was just a little bit sticky.
“You called me your boyfriend,” Isaac told him. He grinned. “Are you asking me to go steady?”
“You’re the one who plans all our dates,” Laurent said, and a hint of dry humor snuck into his voice. “I’m the pretty one who shows up and lets you drive. Remember?”
“I don’t think I’ll forget that any time soon,” Isaac said. “I like you for more than how you look, you know.”
“Isaac, seriously. Stuff a marshmallow in it, already.” Laurent’s mouth covered his, a little bolder than usual, and he sucked on Isaac’s lip ring.
“You’re the least romantic boyfriend in the whole world.” Isaac paused. “You might be the prettiest, though. You even have a leaf in your hair.” He hopped up off the table and pulled on Laurent’s arm. “C’mon. There’s something I want to do before we leave.”
“Does it involve more talking?” Laurent asked, looking extremely skeptical. “Because I hope it doesn’t.”
“Nope.” Isaac kissed him, a little more heatedly since the potential for drama had passed them by. “It does involve my mouth, though.”
“Oh. Oh.” Laurent actually blushed. “Right. Uh. Here?”
“I was thinking in the Jeep, but if you’re into exhibitionism and being cold, then....” Isaac waited patiently.
“Jeep’s good,” said Laurent. “But it’s still not that cold.”
“If you want me to suck you, get in the Jeep and stop talking.”
Thankfully Laurent did as he was told and climbed into the vehicle.
It took a little maneuvering to get comfortable with the two of them in the backseat, especially considering how much taller Laurent was than Isaac. But Isaac eventually climbed on top of him and settled himself between Laurent’s slightly splayed legs. They kissed until Laurent’s eyes were a warm dark blur and his hard cock pressed against Isaac’s stomach.
Isaac watched him carefully as he unbuttoned Laurent’s jeans and eased the zipper down. Laurent was breathing hard but didn’t look panicked. One of his hands rested on Isaac’s shoulder, and the other was buried in Isaac’s hair.
“You don’t have to be careful with me or anything,” Isaac told him when their eyes met. “I can take it.”
Laurent just stared at him, clearly waiting for Isaac to stop talking and put his mouth on him. But Isaac didn’t do it right away, because it was more fun to tease Laurent and feel Laurent’s fingers twitch in his hair.
“You don’t have to be careful with me either,” Laurent informed him breathlessly, and Isaac grinned up at him and winked as he opened his mouth and slid it down over Laurent’s cock.
“Oh,” Laurent moaned, lifting his hips as though he couldn’t help himself, and his cock immediately hit the back of Isaac’s throat. Isaac thought it would take Laurent longer to work up to that, but one glance upward showed he was already lost in the pleasure of having Isaac’s mouth on him and probably wasn’t paying much attention to what he was doing.
God, Isaac loved that—loved that he was doing it for Laurent and that it was Laurent’s first time. Even if that wasn’t usually a turn-on, he loved that Laurent had abandoned all that strict self-control for once and was letting himself feel good. He also loved how Laurent grabbed his hair harder and harder, the gasping sounds he made while Isaac sucked him, and how he could barely form words and once even muttered something in French.
“Isaac,” Laurent groaned when Isaac deep-throated him. Isaac was good at that, and proud of it. But whatever he was going to say was lost in another groan as Isaac swallowed around him, his tongue working beneath the head, and his fingers playing with Laurent’s balls.
Isaac rubbed Laurent’s jean-clad thigh with his free hand to let Laurent know it was okay to thrust into his mouth. Laurent held Isaac’s head with both of his hands, and he lifted his hips off the seat as he pushed himself harder down Isaac’s throat. “God, that feels so good,” Laurent moaned, and Isaac had to drop one hand and rub it over his own erection for a moment of relief, because watching Laurent losing it while getting his dick sucked was so hot it was insane.
Laurent didn’t last very long, and usually that was Isaac’s goal when he did it for money. But he would have enjoyed doing it for Laurent a lot longer, even though it was hot as hell how fast the blowjob got Laurent off. He did try and warn Isaac. He pushed sharply at Isaac’s head and muttered something that vaguely sounded like “Hey,” but Isaac kept sucking him and not-so-gently palmed Laurent’s balls. Laurent came down Isaac’s throat with a loud cry.
He was panting when it was over, and as hard as Isaac was and as much as he wanted to get off, he enjoyed watching Laurent sprawled on the seat and totally out of it, his cock softened and his jeans still unbuttoned.
Laurent’s eyes finally opened. “That was the best thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”
The honesty of it took Isaac aback and stole the words from his throat—some cheesy line about how the fogged-up windows reminded him of that scene from Titanic. He just smiled. “Good. I’m glad.”
Laurent reached up and ran his fingers over Isaac’s mouth. They were trembling. “That lip piercing. I thought it was hot when you kissed me, but when you had your mouth on me, it was amazing. Holy fuck, man.”
Isaac laughed and mouthed at Laurent’s fingers. He nipped at them, caught Laurent’s wrist, and sucked on Laurent’s fingers in earnest.
Laurent watched him, all dark-eyed and still flushed. “I’d say I bet you undercharged for those, but I want you to do it again sometime.”
Isaac rolled his eyes and reached down to undo the button on his own jeans. He worked his cock free and continued to suck and lick Laurent’s fingers. When they were nice and wet, he carried them down to wrap around his cock. Laurent shifted so he could get a better, firmer grip, and started to move his hand up and down and rub his thumb over the head. Isaac had shown him how he liked it, and Laurent was an attentive student.
“I want to do that. To you. Make you feel good,” Laurent said, their faces close together as he worked over Isaac hard and Isaac chased his own release.
Fuck. Isaac wanted that too. But it wasn’t going to take him long. He was already so close, and hearing Laurent say that just pushed him closer to the edge of orgasm. “You do make me feel good,” Isaac said and kissed him hotly. He pushed his hips forward as much as he could and reached down to wrap his hand around Laurent’s. He tightened Laurent’s grip and shuddered hard as Laurent picked up the speed and kept the pressure like Isaac wanted.
“Yeah, like that. Fuck, that’s good,” Isaac panted. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. “Faster, mmm—”
“Hey. Look at me when you come,” Laurent said softly. “I want to see your face.”
Isaac gave a strangled gasp, did as Laurent wanted and tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes open as he finally came over Laurent’s fist. He slumped forward when the last pulse of pleasure faded and caught his breath with his face buried against Laurent’s shoulder. They were both quiet, and even though Laurent had released Isaac’s cock after he came, they were somehow still holding hands.
Which was sweet, but also sticky.