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Matthew swore he'd never sleep with Francis. The guy was always sleazing around and frankly Matthew saw him as more of a father figure than anything. Matthew, however, was increasingly (involuntarily) celibate, and one thing led to another and suddenly he was in Francis' cotton hotel sheets that do nothing for anyone but frizzy up their hair and make them regret.
Well, it started at the world conference just a dash from the hotel, actually. The Canadian had noticed Francis sneaking occasional glances at him, but didn't think much of it—Francis was one of the few that acknowledged his existence, after all. He was eternally thankful, he truly did enjoy the Frenchman's company when he wasn't being weird. Francis had approached him casually as ever once the meeting adjourned, making some quick comment on how drawn out the gathering was. Matthew nodded carefully.
"Say, Matthieu, how about we mingle for a while? I have time to kill, we haven't spoken properly in ages." The accented voice said, laughing. Matthew didn't have any plans after the meeting either, and it didn't seem too bad hanging with Francis…
"Alright." He spoke quietly, nodding. Francis seemed to stare at his honey-blond hair as though it were hypnotic. He let Francis lead the way, finding himself waiting for the other to unlock the door to the room. The place was oddly cool, and just a floor away from Matthew's room. It was a dry, unassuming chamber with no French or English anywhere to be seen. The meeting had been elsewhere, as they alternate countries each time. It was simply a bed and side table, a TV with a drawer supporting it, a mini fridge, and an armchair. Certainly not dirty or uncared for, but not shimmering and expensive, either.
Matthew stood like a figure, unsure and out of place, until Francis lounged himself in the chair and reassured him. "Please, sit on the bed," He spoke, and Matthew nodded as though he hadn't noticed the bed was there, sitting on the edge of it stiffly. "How has life been, Matthieu?" Francis continued, nearly slouching in the faux leather.
"Oh, it's been going…" Matthew's excuse would make the Frenchman hum disappointedly. The air in the room was strange to Matthew. He felt that simmering under the small talk, there was some other reason Francis had invited him here. Still, he looked uncertainly at the other man, who was getting up to pull something out of the small, shiny fridge. Sparkling water, it seemed, and Matthew was simply surprised it wasn't alcoholic.
"I worry about you sometimes. You always seem so low energy. How is that new prime minister of yours?" Francis turned, looking at the other and holding a shiny can of the dull stuff. "Would you like some?"
"No, no thank you… The boss' fine. There's not much to say about him." Matthew spoke politely, watching as Francis swung back near the bed to stand uncomfortably close at Matthew's side, taking grasp of the younger one's shoulder with his free hand. One handedly, the Frenchman opened the can, taking a sip. Matthew eyed the shining can. It looked flavored, but not sweetened, quite boring.
"Ah, I remember when you were a mere boy… Still are, really." Francis took Matthew's head in, grasping the man's hair and softly bringing his head to his stomach. Matthew thought it was vaguely odd, and now that he was close, Francis did smell a bit boozed. He was certainly still functioning, though it did imply he was tipsy for the meeting, since they hadn't left the other's sight since stepping in the conference room. For some reason, the Canadian didn't mind too much the proximity. He found it comfortable, if anything.
"What's it taste like?" Matthew pointed casually at the drink. Francis hummed, and began to laugh softly, letting it crescendo into something louder. Matthew was letting the vibrations of the laugh pass through Francis' abdomen into his head, but Francis suddenly let go of him, so he sat straight up again. The other sat down next to him, and Matthew instinctively scooted to make room for the other. Francis got all close to Matthew's face, making the other shudder as he felt flavored breath against his mouth.
"I'll show you." Francis suggested, making small, almost soundless giggles. Matthew smiled nervously, not moving his head, blushing at the implication. Francis grabbed onto the other's tie, feeling up the fabric in a discreet hint to what he'd be doing to Matthew soon. Matthew let his lips be harassed by Francis'. He was tempted to think about the morality of the situation, but decided against it; Francis' lips moved so sweetly against his own, the initial shock of being thrown into this was melting away like leftover snow in the spring.
When Francis pulled away slowly, he made the comment, "Did you get a taste?" Matthew pretended to think, looking at Francis' wet lips of his own saliva and perhaps the drink. Truthfully, he did; at least, he tasted something fruity on Francis' tongue, something he assumed was from the can. But it was so, so nice, surprisingly to him, and he would kill for more, even if it's Francis giving it to him.
"No." Matthew smiled coyly, letting Francis quickly lean in again. Matthew carefully kissed back, inexperienced despite his long years of living. Francis snuck his tongue shallowly into Matthew's mouth, making the Canadian moan softly. Francis' hand ran down Matthew's clothed chest, feeling as the meek man shivered. The experience went straight down to both of their crotches, shuffling closer to one another in a feverish fight for body heat.
When Francis set his drink down and pulled the both of them to lay on the tight-fitted sheets, Matthew again began to think about how odd it really was. He hadn't thought of Francis this way, yet here he was in bed with the man. Still, he let himself be positioned on top of Francis, legs straddling toned thighs, heat making his erection bloom.
Without words, Matthew began to unbutton the already loose collar of Francis' dress shirt. Francis worked himself out of the matching blazer, letting it fall insignificantly to the side of the bed. Matthew felt a sense of empowerment parading inside of him, looking at the dirty blond in his half-done shirt. Francis began to undo Matthew's blazer, too, pulling it off him and making him shiver when exposed to the outside air.
"You are so beautiful, Matthieu. Made in my own image." Francis cupped Matthew's full, blushing cheeks. He gave them a little squish, feeling Matthew up and making him giggle. His hands shifted down to Matthew's belt, undoing the leather and silver quickly. Matthew looked down, watching, though once Francis was done working his eyes didn't move. His eyes stayed downcast, until his face was grabbed, this time by the chin. He was redirected to look at Francis, who tutted softly.
"Look at your papa." Francis spoke sternly, making Matthew's stomach flutter. He seemed almost joking about the alias, smiling at the man on top of him.
"Yes, daddy." Matthew spoke quickly, afterwards recoiling at how quick the name slipped out. He blushed, feeling the warmth as he cupped his mouth with his palm in embarrassment. Francis laughed, twinges of his accent prominent throughout the giggles. He suddenly grabbed Matthew's hips, flipping the man to sit on the bed. Matthew whimpered when he felt his pants being dragged down to hang around his thighs. Francis stood, pulling Matthew to sit at the edge of the bed, Matthew helping scoot.
Matthew's face reddened further when Francis got on his knees in between the Canadian's thighs. Without hesitation, Francis hooked a finger around Matthew's undergarments, slipping it down to reveal his erection. Cold air was exposed to Matthew's dick, making him groan. It contrasted the warmth of the Frenchman's open mouth moving up the length, reaching the top with a kiss. Wordlessly, Francis took the tip into his mouth, licking softly and strategically. Beads of salty precome burrowed themselves in his taste buds.
"Daddy…" Matthew spoke, adjacent to a mouse with how quiet he was. He put a soft hand on Francis' head, not daring to push yet. It seemed he wouldn't have to; Francis seemed busy taking it himself. When the older man took more into the warmth of his mouth, Matthew let his head tilt back, swallowing a moan. Francis kept a casual rhythm, making Matthew whimper.
Before the Canadian could feel the first waves of climax, Francis stopped, standing back up and crawling back onto the bed. Matthew let his eyes linger on him, taking in his similar hair texture, how shiny it was, and how pleasantly aged he looked. He swallowed once more. Francis came close for a kiss, catching Matthew's lips firmly but not aggressively.
When the Frenchman began to crawl on top of Matthew, he additionally started to undo his own belt and zipper. Matthew's staring was cut off when Francis began to kiss his neck. Freeing his cock, he grabbed onto Matthew's, thumb hooking around his own and bringing them together. The honey blond whimpered quietly, feeling as Francis began stroking. He could feel every movement of Francis' dick against his own, dizzying him in ecstasy.
"F-Francis…" Matthew breathed out, one hand holding himself up and one hand reaching to run through dirty blond waves. Francis stopped his hand's movements, squeezing their lengths together.
"Mm-mm, refer to me properly." His accented voice spoke into Matthew's neck. The blushing man mewled, running his hand down Francis' hair and placing it warmly on the nape of his neck. He felt sudden embarrassment in his stomach, but it stuttered out anyway.
"Daddy," He muttered, and Francis continued his motions, making him moan. He felt the pressure and warmth building in his crotch, tilting his head back once more and parting his lips softly to breathe out of them. "Please, daddy."
"Please what?" Francis laughed, making Matthew lick his lips. He truly didn't know what he was begging for, he just wanted more. Francis tightened his grip slightly, making Matthew groan a bit too loud.
"Fuck…" He breathed out, and Francis pursed his lips. Matthew was melting in his hands, unable to even speak coherently. The desperate man clenched his thighs, indicating he was teetering orgasm. Francis kept his pace, legs shaking himself, though not as close as Matthew obviously was. After a few more seconds of stroking, Matthew moaned loudly, twitching against Francis and letting hot, white batter make a mess of his hand. Matthew took his hand off of Francis, using it now to cover his mouth. His glasses fogged, though he didn't notice as he clenched his eyes shut.
Francis continued stroking, making Matthew's legs tense. Francis began to sweat, whimpered and breathing heavily into Matthew's neck. He mumbled soft curses, coming closer and closer to the edge. He felt burning warmth on his forehead, and his eyes flicked up to see Matthew licking up the perspiration. He moaned, dangerously close, and soon after felt the waves of pleasure taking him over. His load meddled with Matthew's, pulling his hand away and exhaling shakily.
Matthew grunted, laying back on the bed and letting his legs lay over the edge. He evened out his breathing, rubbing his eyes. He could hear Francis shuffling, presumably cleaning his hand up, and eventually the Frenchman laid down partially on top of Matthew. They rested against each other's body heat, now both breathing softly.
"Thank you, daddy.." Matthew mumbled, and Francis let a smile creep onto his face. He slipped his fingers through Matthew's curls, reminiscing about how he'd do the same when the man was younger.
"Yes, dear." Francis spoke as he moved to peck Matthew's neck, closing his eyes as he rested his head next to Matthew's once more. Matthew wrapped his arms around the other man, and there they continued to lay comfortably together until Matthew got the energy to mosey back to his own room.