The Last Supper

Speak now, or forever lose your love…

Table for Two, Book 3 Luc Tessier finally has all the ingredients of a perfect future assembled. His beautiful English fiancé, Daniel, on his arm, five hundred wedding guests on the way, and the honeymoon suite reserved. Now if only he can get Daniel to stop obsessing over last-minute details. So what if the date is set for Friday the thirteenth? After all they’ve been through to get to this point, what else is left to go wrong? Plenty, starting with Daniel’s sudden determination to “save” himself for marriage. How does a healthy, hot-blooded Frenchman fend off a bachelor party stripper with one arm while trying to beckon his lover closer with the other—and not go insane? Daniel wishes he had it as easy as Luc, who’s already finished preparing the extravagant menu. Between contending with a jealous best man, a spiteful mother-in-law, a bad haircut and Luc’s frustrated libido, Daniel’s ready to have a nervous breakdown of failed-pressure-cooker proportions. Forget making it to the church on time. If they make it through the thirteenth without someone ending up face-first in the wedding cake, it’ll be a miracle…

Warning: Contains more food-related hotness, men in leather thongs and much more Luc and Daniel.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 The Last Supper Copyright © 2011 by Scarlet Blackwell ISBN: 978-1-60928-391-9 Edited by Linda Ingmanson All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com

The Last Supper Table for Two, Book Three

Scarlet Blackwell

Dedication

For the original and best Monsieur Henri

Chapter One

“I don’t give a shit if you carry a bouquet of shallots up the aisle. Come over here and suck my cock.” Luc Tessier lounged naked on the bed, stroking his erection with his best seductive expression on his haughty face. He was rewarded by his lover Daniel Sheridan turning around from where he sat writing at the dressing table, eyes narrowed in irritation. Luc loved winding Daniel up. He liked watching the change in his violet eyes. How they darkened to the colour of stormy seas or twilight skies. Daniel was hot, hot, hot when he was mad. “I’m not carrying a fucking bouquet,” Daniel snapped, “or perhaps you’d like me in a dress too?” “Oui,” Luc replied lazily. “With stockings and no panties.” They’d already done that variation one wild night. Daniel in stilettos and mini-skirt—what great legs he had—Luc pretending he was a paying customer before bending Daniel over the arm of the couch and pushing his skirt up to reveal the hidden delights beneath. “Arsehole,” Daniel muttered and went back to his work. He had a thick, black book in which he constantly wrote annotated wedding plans. He had changed the order for the flowers five times and had suggested to Luc just now that he was going to change them again. Luc didn’t give a flying fuck. He cared only about the catering, which he was doing himself, and the large number of prominent chefs he’d invited to rub their noses in his culinary skill. There’d be a lot of guests experiencing orgasms that day, not just Luc and Daniel on their wedding night. They had already sold the wedding to Hello magazine for a cool million. Daniel could have the rarest South American orchids or baskets of dandelions for all Luc cared. The wedding was taking place in the extensive grounds of Luc’s Paris restaurant in one week, the thirteenth of July. Work was already taking place on the vast marquee, the tables, the stage for the numerous bands Daniel had picked, the fairy lights strung through the trees and the fairground rides to entertain the obligatory little brats. Of course, “wedding” wasn’t the correct term in France, seeing as it wasn’t legal. The correct term was civil union. Luc abhorred this. He wanted to be married to Daniel. He had suggested skipping across the border to Belgium to be properly married, but then his home country wouldn’t have recognised it regardless, so it hardly mattered. What mattered was they called it a wedding and the press called it a wedding. It was a wedding, as far as Luc was concerned.

The Last Supper

Luc and Daniel were at Luc’s penthouse arguing, as they had been doing for the last few weeks. The plans were boring Luc. All he knew right now was that the madder he made Daniel, the harder Luc got for him. “Come and sit on my face.” “I’m not going to sit on your face, Luc. We’re getting married in a week and we have no flowers and one of the string quartet has such severe vertigo that he’s crawling along the floor. Can you play cello lying down?” “Je m’en fou,” Luc retorted and stroked himself, watching Daniel’s reaction carefully in the mirror. Daniel got to his feet, clearly intent on stalking away as only he could do. If ever there were a demand for a guide book on stalking etiquette, Daniel could write it. He could bang doors, he could flounce, he could sulk and he could throw looks to freeze a person at a hundred yards. And Luc had the perfect antidote to them all. He climbed off the bed and gripped his lover firmly by the arm. A grip that suggested he wasn’t playing. “Hey, I came home early because I’ve been thinking about you all day. I wanted to show my appreciation for you. Perhaps you could put the book down for just an hour and come to bed with me?” It almost worked. Words like this were more effective with Daniel than “sit on my face”. Daniel looked torn and then said reluctantly, “I can’t. I’ve got to meet a man about serviettes.” “What? Going to have each guest’s name monogrammed on the edge?” Daniel looked thoughtful. “There’s an idea.” “Christ.” Daniel glared before he slipped free of his grip, leaving Luc to deal with his own erection.

The serviette man was gay and clearly used his fresh-faced boyish appeal to sell his wares. Obviously he knew Daniel was gay, seeing as the only people who didn’t were the bonga-bonga tribe who lived in darkest Borneo, thanks to an embarrassing incident in the press that Luc had virtually predicted the very same week it happened. Daniel slouched in his chair, the drone of hammers and power tools coming from the marquee threatening to give him a blinding headache, and daydreamed. He had once been a successful food critic and had once hated Luc’s guts. That was until a dinner invitation had led to him being facedown over Luc’s workbench and addicted to the man’s cock for the rest of his life. Not that sex was all they shared together, even if Luc’s appetite was larger than life. Luc might have been arrogant, conceited, stubborn, sarcastic and all-around impossible, but that didn’t stop Daniel from loving him. Even the battle between Luc and Daniel’s mother six months ago hadn’t managed to tear them apart, nor Daniel’s subsequent outing in the press after a rather unfortunate public sexual encounter. Daniel’s mother hadn’t spoken to him since, apart

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from a curt text message to inform him he was out of her will. Which was a particularly nice touch from the Ice Queen. Daniel had stopped working after the outing. He had fled to Paris with Luc to lick his wounds and had been looked after by his lover with a tenderness that astounded him. Luc had hidden depths which most people weren’t party to. But even Daniel saw these qualities only sporadically. Usually it was enough, but sometimes the tension between them erupted in a fight that would culminate in separate beds, separate houses or separate countries. Right now, the wedding preparations, which had been going on for two months, after Daniel had finally accepted Luc’s proposal some four months after the event, were pushing them to breaking point. But it wasn’t like they hadn’t been there before. What Daniel knew was that Luc loved him, despite his deep disinterest in the wedding preparations. At least, those preparations that didn’t involve food, because Luc had firmly taken control of that and seemed to be effortlessly and methodically working his way through it with no outward signs of stress at all. It was only Daniel who was having the nervous breakdown. “So, what do you think?” The salesman, blond and tanned, almost fluttered his eyelashes. “About what?” Daniel sat up a bit straighter and tried not to notice the worked-out body in the expensive Italian suit. God, how much did serviette salesmen make, anyway? “About the monograms on the corner of each?” “No, I don’t think so. They’re only going to end up in the bin, aren’t they?” “The bin?” The man was French and heavily accented. “Being thrown away,” Daniel rephrased it. “D’accord. So, the ivory linen, then? Or perhaps the soft pink?” “I’m not going to have pink serviettes at my wedding,” Daniel warned, a touch irritably. Was the salesman mocking him? Had he seen the incriminating photos on the Internet? Daniel sat on Luc’s lap riding him in a restaurant while a hundred guests stared at them through the window. “Bien. What date again?” “The thirteenth.” The salesman winced. “Are you sure?” “What do you mean?” “The thirteenth. Not Friday the thirteenth?” A cold sweat drenched Daniel’s back suddenly. “Shit.” “You’ve gone very pale.” Daniel scrambled up so fast he almost overturned his chair. “I have to go.” “But let me give you my card. I’ll write my personal number on it.” The man smiled flirtatiously. Daniel didn’t notice. He was off across the lawn toward the restaurant.

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Chapter Two

Luc was trying to make liqueur truffles in the kitchen with his thoughts straying to his favourite topic. God, he hadn’t had sex in four days. But the last session had been something else. Daniel had been on him the moment Luc had walked in the door. With surprising strength for a smaller man, he had pushed Luc against the wall and taken him there mercilessly. It had felt much like Christmas. Luc didn’t let him do it often, but when Daniel did, Luc loved it. The feel of Daniel inside him, the hard torso against his back, Daniel breathing his adoration into his ear. The wallpaper was stained from where Luc had spurted all over it. Daniel hadn’t stopped there. He had attempted to carry all six-feet-three of Luc into the bedroom, almost doing his back in. Eventually, Luc, held precariously by one leg and almost dropped on his head, had squirmed free, swept his five-eleven lover into his arms and bore him into the bedroom eagerly. Once there, Luc had set about Daniel with chocolate body paint and an indefatigable tongue. Obviously the body paint wasn’t shop-bought synthetic crap, but one Luc made himself and kept bottled in the bedside drawer. It had alcohol in it too, so he got an even bigger buzz licking it from every inch of his lover. Daniel writhed like a sensual cat beneath Luc, all soft moans and breathless entreaties until Luc’s tongue worked him open just right and Luc could slot himself inside perfectly. They made love with such abandon that second time the bed head put dents in the wall. The mattress shook, the wooden frame shook and the floor trembled. Even the window seemed to shiver in its frame as Daniel came, louder than ever before. Luc dropped onto his back, sweating and exhausted. “Mon Dieu,” he declared fiercely. “I love you.” He didn’t admit this often enough. Usually it was done after a fight to stop Daniel walking out on him. It wasn’t like he didn’t mean it, because he did. He adored Daniel with a passion which frightened him. He lived and breathed his lover and couldn’t imagine life without him. But the relationship was difficult, challenging. They fought with monotonous regularity. Their very alikeness drove them apart and their love drove them back together for incredible make-up sex and weeks of idyllic sweetness until the next fight rocked them. Luc was sure about the wedding, though. The proposal had started off as a way to prove his love for Daniel. He needed to go through with it to continue to prove his love, because he knew Daniel still doubted it, even now.

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Luc’s thoughts turned away from this thorny issue and back to more base matters. Daniel, naked and wanton beneath him, begging for more. God. Luc shivered and trembled, hard and desperate for the sort of loving only Daniel could provide. And then the object of his desire burst through the kitchen door like a whirlwind, almost knocking Antoine the head waiter off his feet with a tray full of dishes. “Danny…” Luc’s heart sank when he saw the flushed, distressed face of his lover. “Luc, it’s Friday the thirteenth. I can’t!” Daniel wailed piteously. Luc frowned. He put a truffle ball down on its tray and wiped his hands cursorily on his apron. “What? You subscribe to that shit?” “Something’ll go wrong. Oh God!” “Danny.” Luc leaned on the bench a moment and took a deep breath. This failed to work. Instead he hurled a rolling pin across the kitchen for emphasis, narrowly missing decapitating Raoul, his sous-chef. “I have five hundred people coming here next week!” he yelled. “Thousands of euros worth of food will go to the pigs if you change the day. Get a fucking grip.” Daniel shrank back a bit in the face of Luc’s fury, although it was hardly the first time he’d seen it. “But…” “But nothing. Go home. I want you naked on your back in two hours when I get back. I’m going to give you the biggest seeing-to of your life.” It was supposed to be a promise, but Luc made it sound like a threat. It seemed to snap Daniel out of it. His anxious face turned cold and he drew himself up. “Oh no,” he said. “Not with a week to go.” “What?” “I don’t want to have sex for the next week. Or our wedding night will be nothing to remember.” “What?” Luc asked again, mouth open. He felt his balls shrivelling. “You heard me. You should stay here at the restaurant for the next week so we’re not tempted. Plus it will help me concentrate on the arrangements better if you’re not there to distract me.” The truth dawned on Luc. “You gave me such a good time last time we did it because you had planned this all along. Hadn’t you?” Daniel didn’t say anything. He merely stared Luc down stonily with those incredible eyes. “Merde,” Luc growled. “We may as well have your fucking mother here again and be done with it.” Daniel went pale. The fact that he was irrevocably lost to his mother was still a sore point. He turned away. Luc tried to pull him back, repentant. “Danny…” Daniel left the kitchen without looking back. “Fuck,” Luc spat. He hurled a slotted spoon, followed by a wooden dish which bounced satisfyingly off the wall. This usually helped him think.

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The Last Supper

Luc carried a box containing a lovingly prepared three-course meal as he entered his penthouse, looking out for surprise attacks and ambushes. All was clear and quiet. He took the box to the kitchen and set the oven to preheat. Then he wandered through the empty living room toward the bedroom. Daniel resided within, wearing far too many clothes for Luc’s liking. He stood at the wardrobe flicking through the rail of clothing in a somewhat hysterical manner. “Didn’t I make myself explicit about being naked on the bed?” Daniel only glanced at him before going back to his feverish hunting. “What are you doing?” “Looking for something blue.” “What?” “Something blue to wear to the wedding. Something borrowed, something blue.” Luc sat on the edge of the bed. “In a moment I’m going to have to slap you,” he warned. “But Luc…” “Listen to me. The wedding suits are picked. There’s not a hint of blue and nothing’s being borrowed. I don’t give a shit about your weird English customs. I don’t give a shit about flowers and serviettes and Friday the thirteenth. What I give a shit about is not getting laid for the next week.” Daniel turned around, glaring. “Always about that with you, isn’t it? Sometimes I think I’m just a hole for you to stick your insatiable French dick in.” “Two,” Luc corrected him. “What?” “You have two holes I can stick my dick in. One sharper than the other.” “Fuck off.” “Your language doesn’t improve with time. When you’re my husband, I’ll be washing your mouth out.” “With your spunk, presumably,” Daniel growled. “How did you guess?” “Why don’t you go and sauté your balls in garlic, Luc? I have more pressing things to take care of.” Daniel tried to make his grand exit. Flounce, stalk, storm, one of those things, but Luc grabbed him back effortlessly and threw him imperiously on the bed. Daniel gasped in shock at the rough handling and tried to sit up, but Luc straddled him, pushing him back down. “Now this can go one of two ways. Either I fuck you or…I fuck you. Your choice.” “Get the hell off me.” Daniel was flushed and furious. “Now now, lie still and it’ll all be over soon enough.”

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“You’ve got that fucking right.” Luc ignored him. He unfastened his pants and took himself free, stroking his hard shaft lovingly. Daniel needing to be persuaded was one of his favourite things. Daniel stared at Luc’s hand on his cock as though mesmerised. “Now why don’t you put that smart mouth to another use?” Luc suggested, before he put his knees over Daniel’s shoulders, imprisoning his head with his thighs. “It always looks so much better when it’s filled with my cock.” Luc plugged up the resultant cursing with his cock nicely before he started to rock forward slowly, eyes closed, a grin on his face, drifting off into a fond fantasy involving chocolate, strawberries, a piping bag and Daniel in a leather thong. Hands gripped Luc’s buttocks hard. Daniel sucked furiously. As usual, Luc had won again, but that was a given. Daniel was like an exotic spider. He just needed careful handling for Luc to avoid getting his head bitten off after mating.

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Chapter Three

Daniel sat at the dressing-table looking at his reflection in the mirror and the sleeping form of his lover in the bed behind him. Luc had been selfishly unconscious since receiving his blowjob the night before, despite Daniel whispering loudly in his ear that it was the final sex Luc was going to get before the wedding night. Daniel sighed. There were only six days left and so much to do. He had to somehow find time for a haircut, a facial and an all-over body wax before his wedding night. He had to pack suitcases for their honeymoon in South Africa, which they would leave for the day after the wedding. And he had to work out how to throw Luc bodily out of the penthouse without violence being involved. Luc stirred behind him. He stretched long and hard like a large cat and let out a loud yawn. Then he blinked sleepily and smiled. “Mon amour. I thought you’d be away early as usual. It’s so nice to wake up and see you here.” Something clenched inside Daniel, as though a drawstring tightened around all his internal organs, constricting them as one, with his heart the pounding, aching focus. He turned around on his stool. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you so much.” Luc’s smiling face softened further. He climbed from the bed in all his naked, half-hard glory, walking over to Daniel. He cupped his lover’s head and brought it against his chest, holding him close. “Danny,” he said softly, with that erotic French accent coating his words like the richest chocolate. “I love you too, and I can’t wait to be married to you.” Daniel’s hands gripped at naked flesh. He tried to ignore the warmth and hardness of Luc’s body and focus on the comfort of the embrace. “If you love me, Luc,” his voice was gentle and coaxing, “you’ll stay at the restaurant until Friday. For me. So our wedding night is wonderful.” Luc sighed. He lifted Daniel’s head in his hands and looked down into his face. “Oh Danny, you kill me sometimes, you really do. But as always, I’ll do whatever you ask.” He leaned down and kissed Daniel. Daniel returned the kiss, almost smiling against Luc’s mouth in relief that this time, it had been so easy. Perhaps Luc wasn’t fully awake. No doubt when he came around more and his dick started to protest, he would have something to say about it. Perhaps Daniel should make him leave his key. Luc, however, was clearly trying to make the most of it before he left. As they kissed, he rubbed his erection against Daniel’s chest, then took his lover’s hand and pushed Daniel’s fingers around it. Daniel turned his head away and stood. “Come on, don’t.”

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“Don’t tell me don’t when I can’t touch you for six days.” Luc pouted like a child. “Just once. For the road.” He pushed Daniel back down on the little stool and sank onto his knees. Then he parted his lover’s thighs and yanked Daniel’s bath robe open. Daniel was hard; of course he was. His brain might have been making all these impractical demands, but his body was a slave to Luc as always. He gasped as Luc’s hot mouth swallowed his cock. “Luc…” Luc moaned around Daniel’s cock, one hand fondling his balls, the other stroking his inner thigh. “Oh God.” Daniel leaned back, the hard edge of the dressing-table digging into his back, clutching Luc’s bed-tousled hair. Luc drew back. He looked up at Daniel with burning silver-grey eyes, a satisfied smile curling around the edges of his sardonic mouth. “Come here.” He dragged Daniel to his feet, yanked the robe off his shoulders, spun him around. “Bend over.” Daniel was suddenly face-first over the dressing-table, inches from the mirror. Bottles tipped and rolled off the table. Hair straighteners fell and Luc cursed as they hit him on the foot. “Wider,” he told Daniel imperiously, pushing his lover’s feet farther apart. “Let me see.” Daniel groaned as his hips were pulled up into the air, his buttocks spread by large hands. “Mmm, here treasure lies.” “Shut up and get on with it.” Luc nipped one buttock with sharp teeth, making Daniel yelp. “What, I’m not allowed to look?” “No.” “Why not?” “You embarrass me.” “Danny, I’ve often thought of tying you up in such a manner that your legs are spread and you’re showing me everything. Leaving you there a few hours while I just look at your little hole. Seeing how hard your dick gets with me just watching you.” Luc ran a wet finger lightly down the cleft of Daniel’s buttocks. Daniel moaned uncontrollably, shivering, his vision of Luc’s idea turning him on reluctantly. Luc laughed softly. He squeezed Daniel’s balls lightly, then he bent, hands on Daniel’s thighs, and licked the spot behind his balls, pressing firmly and calculatedly with his tongue. “Oh, fuck.” Another bottle rolled onto the floor as Daniel tried to clutch at the edges of the table. “Nice?” “Oh God yes, Luc.” “You’re denying yourself this for six whole days.” Luc’s saliva wet him thoroughly, running onto his balls. “Christ, Luc, don’t…”

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Luc licked in a slow line up between his buttocks, before tonguing Daniel’s exposed entrance. Daniel flinched and jumped on the table. He spread his legs even wider in helpless invitation, pushing back against Luc’s face. “Mmm.” Luc licked in darting, wet little strokes. One hand felt under Daniel, stroking his stiff shaft firmly. “Oh God.” Daniel squirmed on the dressing table, the furniture rocking beneath his movements. Luc was such an expert at this. He could make Daniel come from tongue alone. There were many ways he could make Daniel come that no other man had been able to do. Probably Luc’s idea of tying Daniel up and looking at him would make Daniel come too, just from the sheer exhibitionism factor, despite Daniel’s reluctance. Luc scrabbled in the drawer to Daniel’s left without pausing in his licking, producing some lube and a condom. There was the tearing of foil, still without Luc interrupting his rhythm. Finally he lifted his head, letting some lube fall between Daniel’s cheeks. “So, are you going to let me fuck you this one last time before our wedding night or do I have to coerce you some more?” A finger rubbed slowly, sliding slickly inside. “I’m going to let you.” Daniel moaned, shuddering. “Good boy.” And Luc bent his head one more time, licking Daniel swiftly, stroking his cock, wetting and opening him up so thoroughly that Daniel almost begged to be filled. Luc’s hands gripped his hips. Hard flesh jabbed between his buttocks and then Daniel got his wish. He cried out in delight. Luc hissed, hands sliding down Daniel’s torso, stroking every inch of skin greedily. Daniel spread his arms farther, trying to gain purchase as every thrust almost sent his head into the mirror. “My Danny, my Danny,” moaned Luc softly, mouth against Daniel’s spine. “Oh, just wait until you’re Monsieur Tessier.” Daniel craned his head over his shoulder, frowning. “I thought you were taking my name?” “What?” Luc slowed his pace, but didn’t stop. “I’m famous, Danny, I can’t just change my name. And besides, Sheridan isn’t the most exotic name in the world, is it?” Daniel glared at Luc’s reflection. “Double-barrelled?” he suggested. “Sheridan-Tessier?” “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m pretentious, but I’m not that pretentious.” Daniel panted hard, groaning when Luc’s hand enclosed his cock. “Well, you can put Daniel Tessier on the certificate if you must, but I’m using my own name if I go back to work.” “Whatever you want, mon cher,” Luc said. “But you’ll still be Daniel Tessier to me. Mine.” He laid himself over Daniel’s back, kissing his neck, increasing the rhythm of his thrusts, his breath hot and fast against Daniel’s skin.

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Daniel gasped. He put his hand over Luc’s, forcing his lover to jerk him off faster. The table rocked beneath them. Daniel’s damp skin stuck to the wood and peeled apart with a sucking sound. Daniel pushed back against Luc, shuddering as Luc hit his prostate. “God, God…please…” Daniel half-moaned, half-begged. “Take me Luc, take me.” Luc growled. He held Daniel’s hip with one bruising hand and drove into him mercilessly, crying out. He’d come, but Daniel was appreciative that he carried on fucking him until Daniel was coming in a hurricane. The two collapsed together over the shaking table, Daniel’s head against the mirror. Daniel was satisfied. That would last him six days, he was sure. Whether it would last Luc or not was another matter.

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Chapter Four

Monday morning saw Luc working furiously in the kitchen, ordering his staff about mercilessly. He had spent the first of his nights apart from Daniel last night, and what a miserable one it was, jerking off while reliving the creaking of that abused table underneath them, the perfect curve of Daniel’s spine as he arched against Luc with every thrust into his perfect body. He’d called Daniel after and laid there awhile listening to the words his beautiful lover breathed into his ear, overcome with emotion. God, how he loved Daniel. How he wanted him by his side forever. He sighed, putting a tray of hors d’oeuvres in the fridge and cleaning the workbench with a cloth. It was difficult juggling the making of the wedding food with the business from the still-open restaurant, but Luc was up to a challenge, even if the rest of his staff looked ready to fall apart. Luc glanced across at Antoine, his head waiter, who slumped on top of an upturned crate in the corner, mopping his perspiring forehead with a spotted hanky. Antoine was always on the edge of a nervous breakdown, that was nothing new, but the restaurant had been extra busy this week, probably due to diners wanting to gawk at the erecting of the marquee. Antoine was feeling the strain. “Antoine.” Luc motioned him over and waited for his head waiter to wearily get to his feet. “After the wedding, take two weeks off. Full pay, of course. And there’ll be a raise for you when you get back.” Luc didn’t pay ordinary wages to his staff. He believed hard work deserved its rewards. Antoine nodded, looking grateful, took two bowls of soup from the serving counter and left the kitchen. Luc looked over toward Raoul Meurier, his sous-chef. In days gone by, he’d rewarded Raoul’s hard work with a rather more hands-on approach. Now Raoul was off limits, but it didn’t stop his sous-chef casting longing looks at Luc when he thought Luc wasn’t looking. Raoul was pretty, dark-haired and doeeyed, shy until he was being fucked. Raoul had moved on, though, to Guillaume Moreau, the blond twentythree-year-old waiter. Guillaume was a slut who had put out for Luc on a regular basis prior to Daniel taking up the role and made it clear on an even more regular basis that he was still open to offers. Guillaume and Raoul made an attractive but odd couple. Clearly the shy Raoul had needed someone like the sexually aggressive Guillaume to bring him out of his shell. Luc hadn’t caught the two exchanging more than a quick kiss, but the gossip about them was legendary at the restaurant. Luc would be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about the two having sex and what a pleasant image it made.

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“Raoul.” His sous-chef put his knife down and approached Luc. “Yes, Chef?” “I appreciate all the hard work you’re putting into the wedding preparations. There’ll be a raise in it for you after.” Raoul blushed and studied his shoes, nodding before he went back to his work. Luc watched him go, gaze lingering on his backside. It was okay to window shop. He had la crème de la crème installed in his penthouse for the rest of his life, but it didn’t stop him remembering past times fondly while he was still a bachelor.

Luc worked until five-thirty when he called it a day. His staff had gone home a while ago for their afternoon break prior to evening service, expected back within the hour. He washed his hands and took off his apron, moving through the silent kitchen and into the restaurant. He wanted to look through the large picture windows and see how work was progressing on the marquee. And maybe catch a glimpse of his beloved ordering workmen around. He stood there a moment in the empty restaurant. The workmen were packing up, surprise, surprise, bang on five-thirty, work-shy bastards, and there was no sign of Daniel. Never mind, Luc would call him when he got upstairs. Perhaps he could persuade him to come over. A sound suddenly distracted him and he turned to look, frowning. He had thought he was alone. He moved toward the storage closet at the far end of the restaurant, the door of which was ajar. The noise came again. A distinctive moan that raised the hair on the back of Luc’s neck. Mon Dieu, who was in there? He stepped closer and very carefully put his eye to the crack in the door. His fondest fantasy was spread out within. One light was on, illuminating the scene, the scene being Guillaume and Raoul engaged in lovemaking. Raoul was bent over a table half-dressed, while Guillaume did him from behind. The waiter held the sous-chef by the hips as he pounded him, while the table shook and Raoul cried out with each thrust. Luc drew away for a moment. He realised his heart was pounding with excitement. He put his eye back. Raoul was jerking himself off. How like Guillaume to be so selfish. Luc had always helped along any man he fucked. It was only fair. Now poor Raoul had to get himself off. Luc felt like saying something. He was hard, though, and he rubbed himself through the thin cotton of his uniform pants. Did jerking off over Raoul and Guillaume count as infidelity? Perhaps he could call Daniel and ask him. Then again, maybe not. “Still spying at doors, Luc? Some things never change.” Luc started so violently that he head-butted the door open. Inside, Raoul screamed and Guillaume tried to pull free, failing and being dragged from the table bodily by Raoul, who tried to pull his pants up while still intimately attached to Guillaume. “Let me out, let me out,” Guillaume growled.

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“I can’t, I can’t, I think I’ve gone into spasm,” wailed Raoul, beet red. “We might have to go to hospital.” Luc turned around to cackling laughter. “What sort of restaurant are you running here anyway, Tessier?” asked his bemused best man. “Augustin!” Luc grabbed his friend in a bear hug. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He glared over his shoulder at his two struggling employees as he led Augustin away. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Augustin was Luc’s childhood friend. Tall, dark and rugged, he was perhaps even better-looking than Luc, if that were possible. Which, of course, it wasn’t, but Luc tended to simmer with jealousy anyway every time Augustin was around. His friend, who was named after the eponymous hero Augustin Meaulnes in the classic French tale Le Grand Meaulnes, was a wealthy man with an odd career. He owned a string of butterfly houses across France. He had always cultivated a fascination for them when he and Luc were young, but Luc had never imagined he would make a career out of it. Right now he lived in Toulouse so he and Luc saw each other infrequently. Augustin had agreed readily to be Luc’s best man, though. They sat at a bar on the Saint-Germain Boulevard drinking Jack and coke. “So, this man of yours, when am I going to meet him?” Augustin was straight and the biggest womaniser Luc had ever met. He had once told Luc he’d slept with over two hundred women by the time he was thirty. When Luc told him aged eighteen that he was gay, Augustin had replied, “Tell me something I don’t know, queer boy. Just leaves more pussy for me.” Luc shrugged, gestured to the bartender for another. “Whenever you want.” “Why aren’t you with him tonight?” Augustin had always been sharp. Luc sighed. “We’re off the sex ’til Friday. I’m staying at the restaurant.” Augustin laughed and squeezed Luc’s knee. “Poor Luc. I’d offer to blow you if I was gay. Perhaps you can get some action tonight. There’s a couple of guys looking at you.” Luc pulled his face. “Augustin, I’m getting married. Do you understand that concept?” Augustin shrugged, eyes sliding past Luc to an attractive blonde beside him. “Not really.” “It means I’m not going to fuck about either before or after.” “Your loss. Is he really that special?” “He really is.” “Take me to meet him tomorrow. In the meantime, where am I going to stay?” “I don’t know. You were supposed to stay at the penthouse with us, but now I’m not there…” Luc trailed off. “What? I can’t stay there?” Augustin looked offended. “Don’t you trust me, Luc? In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t do cock.”

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Luc reddened. “Of course I trust you, it’s just…Danny’s very busy with the wedding plans.” Just what was the problem here? Something made Luc very reluctant to move Augustin in with Daniel for the next four days. Was he so jealous over Augustin’s looks and prowess that he actually thought his friend would go gay the moment he saw Daniel? It was ludicrous. He sighed. “You could stay if you wanted, but I’d have to ask him. He might not want a stranger staying with him, and you’d have to respect that.” “Of course,” Augustin replied. “Call him now, then.” Luc nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He left the bar and made his way to the men’s bathroom to use his phone. Daniel answered after four rings. “Luc.” The pleasure was evident in his voice. His cut-glass English accent sounded like warm chocolate and honey. Luc caught sight of his own smiling, simpering face in the mirror and scowled. “Danny, my love, how are you?” “Missing you.” “Glad to hear it. Don’t forget that you made your bed and now you have to lie in it.” Luc was never one to resist a dig when he could. “All right, all right, if you just called to…” “No, I called to tell you my best man’s arrived.” “Oh, right. He needs to be measured for his suit.” “Yes, perhaps you could take him tomorrow.” “Very well.” Daniel sounded less than enthusiastic. “And I wondered if he could…stay with you.” “What? Luc, I’m very busy.” “I know, but I said he could stay with us. I didn’t expect you to throw me out.” Daniel sighed. “Is he tidy?” “Immaculately,” Luc lied, because Augustin was the scruffiest person he had ever met and employed a cleaner seven days a week just to keep his home from being a pigsty. “I don’t know, Luc. I don’t know him…” “Look, he’ll spend every day with me or out shagging his way around Paris. All he’ll do at the apartment is sleep, you’ll never see him. I’d have him here, but you know I only have one bed.” “Okay, then, but I reserve the right to evict him.” “Of course, mon amour. Merci beaucoup. I’ll send him over later. Leave the key under the red pot for him. We’re having a drink.” “If he comes in drunk and vomiting, I’m going to be really pissed off.” “Not at all, my love, not at all,” Luc reassured Daniel. Augustin was a terrible drunk. Horny, lecherous and deeply inappropriate. “I’ll tell him not to wake you up.”

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“All right. Good night, Luc. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” “Goodnight, Danny. I love you.” Luc blew a kiss and then hung up. Back at the bar, he told Augustin firmly that he was not allowed to get drunk tonight and wake up Daniel at all hours. “Of course not,” Augustin said as he ordered another round of drinks.

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Chapter Five

The creaking of the door awoke Daniel. He opened his eyes, blinking in the light spilling from the hallway. “Luc?” Then he remembered Luc wasn’t supposed to be here. His gaze followed a shadowy figure which moved across his bedroom with heavy, unsteady footsteps. It looked like Luc, tall and dark and broad-shouldered, but…Luc never stood facing his open wardrobe, unzipping his fly. Daniel lurched at the bedside lamp. “Are you pissing in my wardrobe?” he screamed as light illuminated the scene, and he almost fell from the bed in his haste to scramble out. A startlingly attractive man turned his head over his shoulder, slurring his words. “Yeah, yeah, I’m not tipping you just to pass me a paper towel, old man. On your way.” “Get out!” Daniel grabbed the stranger by the shoulder and dragged him back. The stranger turned, cock in hand, spraying urine all over Daniel’s feet and legs. “Merde!” In moments of high anxiety, Daniel found himself swearing in French these days. That was Luc’s fault. Daniel danced a little, almost retching at the feel of the warm liquid on his bare feet, and then he took hold of the man he now knew to be Augustin by the throat and pulled him physically from his bedroom. The man was too drunk to protest. Daniel hurled him into the hallway and Augustin went headfirst into the wall, bouncing back off it and falling unconscious to the floor. A moment later, he started to snore. “Fuck.” Wildly, Daniel raced down the hall to the front door and threw it open. Then he ran back, grabbed Augustin by the ankles and dragged him down the shag-pile carpet. He pulled him to the lift, panting for breath, put Augustin inside, pressed the button for the ground floor, then darted free as the doors began to close, leaving Augustin, cock still hanging out of his pants, as a nice present for one of Luc’s neighbours. Growling and swearing to himself, he went back into Luc’s penthouse and slammed the door.

“My best man’s in jail for indecent exposure,” was the first thing Luc said when Daniel answered the phone next morning. “Good.” Daniel had been up two hours and made the appropriate phone calls. “I’ve just picked the most expensive replacement bedroom carpet I could find. While it’s being fitted, I’m taking your credit card to the Champs-Élysées. You owe me three jackets, four shirts and five pairs of shoes. I’m going to buy double that amount. Just so you know.”

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“Danny, what are you talking about?” “Your fucking friend pissed in the wardrobe last night!” “Don’t scream, Danny. Did he really do that? He didn’t get any of my clothes, did he?” “No, he didn’t, he chose my side. How convenient.” Daniel’s jaw was clenched so tight he could barely speak. “You’re very annoyed, aren’t you, mon cher?” Luc remained calm, his voice placating. Daniel started looking in the kitchen cupboards for headache pills. “I hope you know I’m going to spend so much money today, Luc… Oh shit, I haven’t got time to do anything. I’ve got to meet the tailor.” “I’ll send Augustin over to meet you.” “If I have to see that man again, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Daniel warned immediately. “Come on, he needs to be measured for his suit.” “Then you fucking take him.” Daniel slammed the phone down.

“It didn’t go well, then?” Augustin asked from where he sat at the best table in the house, eating a cooked breakfast and watching the work going on in the grounds. He had a large bruise on his forehead and his eyes were red-rimmed. He still managed to look attractive. Luc scowled and put his phone in his pocket. “You pissed in my wardrobe.” Augustin arched a brow. “Did I?” “Yes, you fucking did, dickhead. Daniel’s going to max out my credit card as a result.” “You can afford it.” “Listen to me. Danny is really angry with you. You won’t be staying at the apartment.” Augustin shrugged. “He’ll come round. I’ll take him some flowers.” “No, he won’t. You don’t know him like I do.” “He sounds like a bore, Luc. A stuffed English suit with a rolled-up umbrella up his arse. Are you going to shackle yourself to that for life?” Luc stalked around the table and grabbed Augustin by his shirt collar, shaking him hard. “If I ever hear you be so disrespectful to my fiancé again, Augustin, me and you are done.” He walked across the room and banged open the kitchen door.

Daniel stood in front of the tailor’s mirror, looking at his suit. The stiff, starched collar made him feel like he was choking, but the black frockcoat and the red, embroidered waistcoat beneath suited him nicely and made his body look good. Behind him, he saw the reflection of a familiar face, and his heart sped up in anger.

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“You must be Danny. I just looked out for the most handsome guy in the place.” The French accent was heavy and virtually impenetrable. Undeniably sexy. Daniel glowered. Did Augustin think that because Daniel was gay, he could get around him by flirting? “Daniel,” he said coldly. Augustin was undaunted. “Well, Daniel, I got you something to express my deepest regrets for last night.” He ducked out of the dressing room and returned with his arms laden with three things—a bouquet of pink roses, a bottle of pink champagne and a pink box tied with a pink bow. Daniel stared. “Why all the pink?” “Well, you’re gay, aren’t you?” Augustin replied airily with a smirk. “Do I look particularly effeminate to you?” Daniel said between his teeth. Augustin looked him over slowly in a way that actually made Daniel flush, so searching and lingering was it. A smirk curled around the edges of his sensual mouth. “Definitely not. But I didn’t know. Luc’s had some pretty little boys in the past who liked to wear make-up and women’s underwear.” Daniel stared stonily at him. Augustin smiled, showing several thousand euros’ worth of dentistry. “Yes, those Bangkok ladyboys—” Daniel coughed angrily. His attention was drawn to the sudden sharp movement in the pink box Augustin carried. “Have you got something alive in there?” “Mais oui, for you, Daniel.” Augustin held out the box, still grinning inanely. With trepidation Daniel took it, bent and put it on the floor before untying the bow. When he opened it, a white-and-brown head shot out, the ears enormous, the nose black, the eyes big and dark. It was possibly the smallest and cutest dog Daniel had ever seen. “What the hell is this?” he demanded of Augustin. “It’s a present for you.” “Augustin.” The dog climbed out of the box and scampered across the dressing room, hiding in a cubicle. “In England, when people are sorry, we send cards and chocolates. We don’t buy people animals. I don’t want a dog.” Augustin pouted calculatedly. “But he’s homeless. I got him from the shelter. Someone was caught trying to drown him. Not at the shelter, obviously, because that would be wrong.” Daniel’s heartstrings were tugged at. He loved animals, but he wanted to get one in his own time, when he and Luc were settled and married. Luc had expressed an interest in all the big dogs—Huskies, German Shepherds, Labradors. He would piss his pants at this little rat Augustin had presented Daniel with. Then the dog peeked out from under the curtain and gave the tiniest little yap to go with his tiny frame and Daniel melted. “What’s he called?” “Henri,” Augustin said.

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“Has he been done?” “Of course.” “Is he housetrained?” “Naturellement.” “I’ll take him for a trial run of two days. If he stresses me out before the wedding, you take him back.” “He might calm you down, you look like you need something,” Augustin muttered, putting the flowers and wine on a nearby chair before going to the mirror to preen at his hair. Daniel glared at him. “Go and find the tailor and get measured.”

The back door was open, sending a cooling breeze through the kitchen as Luc sweated over a set of intricate petit fours. He turned his head at a small squeak, and his mouth fell open as a tiny dog scampered into his kitchen on a red lead, leading his beloved behind him. “Ask your friend,” Daniel growled, jabbing a finger at Augustin as he followed. “He drives like a fucking maniac, you know. You were nearly widowed before you even married me.” Luc sighed inwardly. It seemed like all-out war had been declared between his two most favourite people in the world. “There’s no animals allowed in the kitchen, Danny,” he said pointlessly. Daniel gestured to Augustin derisively. “Tell him that, then. He’s still behaving like an animal.” Augustin went to the nearest fridge and started poking about in it. “You do know I was nearly raped in prison last night don’t you, Daniel?” he asked, shoving a vol-au-vent into his mouth. “Every guy in that place wanted a piece of my perfect arse.” “From what I’ve heard about you, it’s a good job they didn’t. Who knows what they could have caught?” Daniel shot back. “You cheeky little bastard.” Augustin squared up to Daniel, crumbs of puff pastry falling from his lips. “All right, all right, time out.” Luc pushed his friend back and glared at Daniel warningly, but his lover seemed oblivious. Daniel wandered over to the sink, filled a small porcelain bowl with water and set it down for the dog, which started to drink thirstily. “Danny, please,” Luc said in exasperation. “I cook in that bowl. Are you trying to get me shut down?” “It’s a hot day, Luc, Henri has to drink.” “Who exactly is Henri anyway?” “A guilty present from your best man.” Augustin pushed another vol-au-vent into his mouth. “You’re so ungrateful.”

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“Mon Dieu, stop eating the wedding food, Augustin!” Luc snapped and slammed the fridge door. “Now get out. The pair of you are giving me a headache.” Daniel sniffed disdainfully. “Come on, Henri.” He scooped the little dog into his arms and gave his best flounce out of the kitchen. Luc moved to the back door and watched him go mournfully. It had now been two days since he had touched Daniel. He had never thought the week before his wedding would be so miserable. “What a fucking arsehole,” remarked his best man. Luc swung his fist and hit Augustin on the jaw. Suddenly he felt a whole lot better.

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Chapter Six

Luc was on all fours on a leather couch being tortured. A delicate hand held his bum cheeks apart while another coated his most private areas in warm, sticky stuff. Luc came to Miss Fukuoka, his twentytwo-year-old Japanese beauty therapist, once a fortnight for essential maintenance. He was embarrassed by this, he who was never embarrassed, but would never have trusted such a delicate job to a man. He had once tried to get Daniel to wax him to avoid his trips to Miss Fukuoka and his ham-fisted boyfriend had almost castrated him. No, it was Miss Fukuoka or no one. At least she never actually seriously injured Luc. He cursed in French as the first strip tore a layer of hair off his arse crack. This wasn’t his idea of stress relief from Daniel and Augustin. “There, there,” Miss Fukuoka said soothingly, stroking one buttock. She flirted shamelessly with him. It was hard to tell whether the touches to his balls and arse were professional or personal when she was waxing them, but there was no denying how delighted she had been the time she had coaxed a hard-on from Luc. He was sure she enjoyed her job way more than she should, but then again, if he were waxing sac and crack for a living, he guessed he would love it too. In fact, that was probably how the hard-on had started that day, Luc zoning out and fantasising about waxing hot men for a living. Miss Fukuoka ripped away another section of hair, leaving Luc smarting and squirming. He never got used to this, but it was worth it when he felt Daniel’s tongue lapping at his naked, abused skin. His beauty therapist was invited to his wedding on the understanding that A, she didn’t tell any of the guests she was Luc’s arse waxer and B, she never told Daniel that Luc had once got an erection on her couch. For a start it would send out signals that secretly Luc was into pain, when he really wasn’t. He hissed again. “Nearly done,” Miss Fukuoka said in her Japanese-accented French. “What a hairy arse you’ve got this time, Luc. I’m surprised your boyfriend manages to find your hole at all.” Luc glared over his shoulder. Miss Fukuoka smiled sweetly. She usually said things along these lines. She had no concept of polite conversation or causing offence and would issue random sexually-orientated comments at frequent intervals while she had her hands on Luc’s private parts. “There.” Miss Fukuoka rubbed a soothing, wet cloth over Luc’s sore areas before rubbing in some cream. This was clearly her favourite part because she lingered on Luc’s anus, stroking with one gloved finger. Luc flinched, tensing. “Shh, relax.” Miss Fukuoka pressed ever so slightly.

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“Miss Fukuoka, are you trying to put your finger in my arse?” Luc couldn’t quite believe he was getting sexually assaulted by his beauty therapist. “No, Luc, it’s just that you’re so well-used that your arse is trying to swallow my finger,” Miss Fukuoka shot back smartly. Luc pulled back. “All right, that’s enough.” He turned over on his back, spreading his legs. “Do my balls and then we’re done.” Miss Fukuoka smiled slowly. She snapped her gloves off and swapped them for a fresh pair. “And your bikini line?” she asked, hovering over Luc’s groin with greedy eyes. “A little tidy up?” “Yes,” Luc said reluctantly. “The works. It’s my wedding night, after all.” “Of course. Your fiancé is so pretty, Luc.” She sighed. “Why don’t you send him here to me? I’ll do his first wax on the house.” She grinned. Luc doubted Daniel would be quite so tolerant of Miss Fukuoka’s wandering hands. “He has his own beauty therapist,” he said. “I think he’s happy with him.” “He goes to a man?” Miss Fukuoka asked in mock outrage. “And you’re happy with that, are you?” Luc frowned. “Why not?” “Luc, cherie, your lover has his bits and pieces touched and fondled by a man without you being there. How do you know this man doesn’t take advantage of him?” Luc glowered. It was something he didn’t want to think about. Daniel on his back, legs open, a man standing between them, hefting Daniel’s sac. When they were married, Daniel would have to find a female beauty therapist. Just not the fearsome Miss Fukuoka. Miss Fukuoka stroked warm wax over his balls in a lingering motion. Luc always reluctantly liked this bit, but was tensing already in anticipation of the inevitable pain. He closed his eyes, laid back and thought of Daniel, howling as the first strip was torn off.

Perhaps she’d cut off a bit too much this time. Daniel stood in Luc’s bathroom, surveying the back of his head in the mirrors that reflected every angle. He liked his hair short, but his hairdresser had got carried away this time and virtually scalped him. It made his eyes look huge. He stared at himself for a while, sighing. He hoped Luc liked him bald. A knock came at the door, greeted with a volley of tiny barks from Henri who trotted down the hall as fast as his short legs would carry him. Daniel frowned. He wasn’t in the mood for visitors. He had spent the entire day at the salon and was still smarting in delicate areas. He wanted to have a bath and then get an early night. Reluctantly he pulled the door open with the safety chain in place.

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“Daniel,” cooed Augustin with a charming smile. “Let’s try again.” He spoke in heavily accented English. He held up a box. “Luc’s cooked us dinner.” Henri growled like a menacing kitten. Daniel glared at Augustin. He resented Luc sending his friend over with an olive branch. “I’m tired. Go away.” Augustin had a bruise on his jaw. That was interesting. “Come on now. You’re marrying my best friend in two days. What sort of speech am I going to make if we can’t stand each other?” Daniel wasn’t stupid. That was a clear threat if ever he’d heard one. He felt his cheeks burn in anger. “Open the door.” Daniel slammed the door shut. He rested his head on it a moment with eyes closed and then, steeling himself, he pulled off the chain and opened the door, bending down to scoop up Henri as he launched himself at Augustin’s ankles. “Warm the food up,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away. “I’m taking a shower.”

Augustin had laid out the food on the coffee table in the living room when Daniel came out of the bathroom wearing a robe. Luc’s friend had put on some classical music and lit candles around the room, keeping the lights off. Daniel stood at the door a moment, uncomfortable. What was going on here? Augustin turned his head from where he sat on the floor. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll open the champagne.” He got to his feet. Daniel stepped into the room, pulling the belt on his robe tighter. Augustin’s eyes appraised him as he tore the foil off the champagne cork and began to prise it open with his thumbs. “Get the glasses, I’m not very good at this.” Daniel reached quickly for two crystal flutes, holding them ready. The cork popped, Augustin turned with the bottle, spraying it all over Daniel’s neck and drenching the front of his robe. “Shit,” Daniel protested. “You weren’t fucking wrong.” Augustin poured the two glasses, smirking. “Luc was right about you. He said you had a foul mouth. He said at times there’s only one way to shut you up.” Their gazes met. Augustin’s smile remained fixed on his face. “Excuse me while I get changed.” Daniel hurried out. Once in his bedroom, he discarded the wet robe, used a baby wipe on his sticky neck and put on a second robe. He put pyjama bottoms under it because Augustin was making him nervous. Augustin reclined on the couch, drinking champagne and eating mushroom pâté on buckwheat crackers. “Mon Dieu, Luc feeds you well. You must have to repay his generosity in so many ways.” “Augustin.” Daniel sat and sipped his champagne, almost fearful Augustin might have slipped something in it while he was gone. “Stop with the sly little innuendos.”

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Augustin’s face was the picture of innocence. “What do you mean?” He slid along the couch until he was right beside Daniel. “You know what I mean.” Daniel craned his torso and head away as best he could. “What are you doing? I thought you were straight?” Augustin smiled. “I am. But I also believe in experimentation. And I want some of what Luc’s got.” Daniel scrambled from the couch in horror, just managing to set his glass on the coffee table. Augustin came after him, gripped him by the belt of his robe. “Wait a minute.” “Get off me.” Daniel struggled away, but Augustin held him back, a strong arm going around his waist, pulling Daniel into his body. “Don’t be so coy. I saw the way you looked at me when we first met. You gay men are all the same. I know you’re up for a last fuck before you get hitched.” Augustin tried to kiss him. “You’re out of your mind!” Daniel wrenched himself away. He ran into the hall, toward his bedroom, Augustin hot on his heels. As he reached the door and Augustin gripped him by the back of the neck, Daniel whirled around and brought his knee up into Luc’s best man’s groin. Augustin fell to the floor, writhing, hands between his legs. Daniel stood over him, breathing hard, debating his next move now he’d subdued his attacker. A knock at the door made him start violently. He crept up to it and put his eye to the spy-hole. Oh God, it was Luc. He glanced back at the pitifully moaning Augustin before, almost trembling, he pulled open the door. “Jesus Christ, who’s butchered your hair?” were Luc’s first words before he caught himself. “Mon amour.” He carried a bouquet of red roses and embraced Daniel fiercely. “I miss you. I’m sorry for yesterday. I’ll keep Augustin away from—” He stopped, frozen in place, before drawing back slowly from Daniel. “Augustin, what are you doing?” Augustin, a sickly shade of green, pulled himself to a seated position. He threw a look full of daggers at Daniel. Luc turned to his lover for an explanation. “Your friend came over to apologise and had a funny turn. He’s got a terrible pain in his balls and felt the need to lie down on the floor.” Daniel didn’t know why he was covering for Augustin, but driving a wedge between the two friends by telling of Augustin’s treachery was hardly conducive to the smooth running of the already fraught wedding plans. Luc regarded both men with one arched eyebrow. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but get yourself down to the hospital, Augustin,” he growled with a noted lack of sympathy. “I want to be alone with Daniel.”

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Augustin dragged himself to his feet, perspiration gleaming on his upper lip and brow. He cast one more glare at Daniel before he let himself out. Luc pulled Daniel into his arms and held him tight. “You must think I’m an idiot,” he muttered. “No,” Daniel said nervously. “Why do you two hate each other so much?” Daniel didn’t reply. He was thinking of what fun it would be to hire someone to get rid of the tiresome Augustin permanently.

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Chapter Seven

It was the day before the wedding and Daniel had lain awake all night despite wine, herbal sleeping pills and lavender drops on his pillow. When Luc had gone into the living room last night, he had been confused about the meal Augustin had left on the coffee table. Luc hadn’t sent Augustin over to apologise. His friend had stolen the meal from the fridge. Luc and Daniel ate together in silence, then Daniel got out the dreaded black book and went over a few last minute things for the wedding with a yawning Luc. Luc had clearly accepted his lot, though, and kept his wandering hands to himself and his kisses chaste. They cuddled awhile on the couch before Luc kissed him goodnight at the door. He held Daniel’s face between his hands and looked him in the eyes a moment. “I’ll see you at the restaurant on Friday,” he said softly. “Daniel Tessier.” And despite arguing about the name change, a thrill went through Daniel at Luc’s words. It really was happening. Lying here in bed now, he was just over twenty-four hours away from being married to Luc. He picked the black book off the bedside table and glanced through it again. He needed to ask Antoine, Luc’s cantankerous head waiter, to confirm if the flowers had arrived and that they were safely stored in the cellar. He needed to check the car to the airport on Saturday was booked. He needed to confirm the numbers once again in case anyone had dropped out. He needed to…jerk off, really badly. He let the book fall from his hand and put his hand beneath the covers, stroking his hard shaft swiftly. He shouldn’t be doing this. He wanted to conserve everything he had for their wedding night. He wanted his stamina at its peak to give Luc the longest and best session he’d ever had. He wanted nothing to ruin it, but already he withered thinking about Luc’s odious friend’s plans for him the night before. Jesus, Luc’s straight friend had made a pass at him! He shuddered, sliding from the bed and making for the shower.

Augustin turned up in the afternoon looking shame-faced and hung over. Luc was in the kitchen, his final shift before his wedding and two-week honeymoon. He prepared food for that night’s restaurant menu and made last-minute touches to the wedding food. “Look what the cat dragged in.” Augustin perched on an upturned crate near the back door. “Are you ready for tonight?” He referred to the enterrement de vie de garcon he was organising for Luc. Or stag night, as Daniel would call it. Luc wasn’t really in the mood and didn’t want to wake up naked on a Metro going to Marseilles on the morning of his wedding, but Augustin had put a lot of planning into the evening. Luc dreaded to think what those plans entailed.

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“Not really,” he replied. “Are your balls feeling better?” “Just fine.” Augustin reddened. “I’ll pick you up here at seven-thirty. Dress smart.”

It seemed Augustin had hired Luc’s favourite club out for the evening. Located in a seedy part of Paris down a backstreet, it nevertheless numbered film stars and rock stars amongst its clientele and had waiting lists a year long for membership. Secret it wasn’t, though. Several photographers and journalists lingered outside, snapping Luc as he arrived, calling out to him. He smiled tightly through his teeth and ducked through the narrow little entrance that led down a spiral staircase into a dungeon-like darkness outfitted like a version of hell itself. Luc had brought Daniel here a couple of times. The first time, before Daniel had come out, they had been photographed leaving together and Daniel had had a panic attack and hyperventilated so badly he’d passed out. When he came to, lying in a dirty puddle and moaning softly about the pins and needles in his hands, Luc had slung him roughly over his shoulder and thrown him into a cab. The second time had been happier. They’d ended up fucking in the bathroom, Daniel drunk and hallucinating on absinthe, while a guy stood outside banging on the door and threatening to crap in the urinals if they didn’t hurry up. Ah, fond memories. Luc smiled to himself as he gave his jacket in at the cloakroom and wandered into the steamy blackness. He recognised people instantly—Antoine thrusting a glass of champagne into his hand; Guillaume and Raoul kissing furiously at the bar, recovered, it seemed, from their unfortunate sticking together. Luc still hadn’t had his word with them over their public spectacle at the restaurant. Three of his cousins were there and came forward to greet him. Yvette was a lesbian and so was an honorary man for the evening and allowed to participate, even if she immediately complained about the lack of women. Friends from Paris were numerous, some of them gay with their partners in tow, some of them straight. Some of them were old friends Luc hadn’t seen since school, which Augustin had tracked down, and Luc was both stunned and delighted. He had to admit his errant best man had done a good job. The black-and-red décor, usually draped with cobwebs and bats, had tinsel and balloons hung from every surface, a giant banner emblazoned with Luc and Daniel’s faces strung from one end of the bar to the other. A lavish buffet table was set at one end and had already been descended on by the vultures. Luc finished his champagne and someone topped it up. He smiled at Augustin and wished that Daniel was by his side.

Daniel reclined on the bed with an open box of Belgian chocolates, his face slathered in a neon blue face mask, what was left of his hair marinating in coconut conditioner. Henri lay curled at the foot of the bed, his tiny legs twitching in sleep as though he raced across fields in his dreams.

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Although some of Daniel’s London friends had arrived for the wedding and he’d spoken to them on the phone, he’d declined an invite out. He didn’t want to be hung over and baggy-eyed on the day of his wedding. He wanted to be tucked up in bed at nine with a strong sleeping pill for a solid twelve hours sleep before the biggest day of his life. Luc might be able to get wasted and arrive looking gorgeous as ever on an hour’s sleep in the gutter, but Daniel had to work at it and he had no intention of letting Luc down. A riotous French comedy played on TV, Jean Reno and Gérard Depardieu in a silly tale that distracted Daniel from his thoughts. Luc loved both actors and had had them to dine several times at his restaurant. They were expected at the wedding tomorrow and Daniel was sure he would be a star-struck fool if he were introduced to them. The enormity of tomorrow made him tremble. Five hundred people watching him exchange vows with Luc. Luc’s parents and family, whom Daniel had met only a couple of times and was ill at ease with. And the absence of his own family. He thought of his mother. How she’d told him he wasn’t her son anymore. His father, a shadowy figure always on the periphery of Daniel’s life, who carried a locked briefcase and was cagey about his work. They would read about Daniel’s wedding in Hello magazine and perhaps his mother would weep for all Daniel’s potential lost and the chance of grandchildren forever shattered. In her eyes he was an abomination who would never be redeemed. He sank back against the pillows and allowed himself to cry for the final time over the loss of his old life before he committed to his new.

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Chapter Eight

Cheesy eighties music pumped from the speakers—Luc’s favourite kind along with heavy metal. Augustin was drunk, gyrating furiously on the dance floor with Jacques, one of their mutual friends, who was camper than a row of tents and was touching Augustin up blatantly with no complaints. Luc shook his head and turned away. Augustin was clearly way more flexible with his sexuality than Luc had ever suspected, even if he’d deny it ’til the cows came home. Luc wore a pink feather boa and furry bunny ears. He was just drunk enough not to care. Some of his gay friends were in fancy dress, one as Wonder Woman, one as Superman with a pair of socks stuffed in his tights, and one as a particularly sinister Joker. There was making-out going on all over the room and Luc felt jealous and lonely. He had to remind himself that it was only a few short hours before Daniel was his and they need never be apart again. He pulled his phone out to text Daniel, saw it was eleven o’clock and put it back. Daniel was doing the decent thing and getting an early night. It was only Luc who was going to look like a hobo in the morning. Augustin stepped off the dance floor and weaved his way across the room, disappearing through an almost invisible door in the wall. Luc wondered what he was doing for a moment and then was distracted as Yvette pulled him onto the dance floor. After a sweaty dance to Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out for a Hero” and Europe’s “The Final Countdown”, the dancers cleared the floor en masse. Luc was left confused and still wanting to dance, hanging on to Yvette, who pulled away. Before Luc could exit too, Augustin appeared, carrying a chair. He grabbed Luc by the arm and pushed him down onto it. Then the lights came on brightly, making Luc squint as a figure appeared before him and the first notes of Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff” started. Oh God, it was a man in an American cop uniform. Luc’s pulse shot up and his hands grew clammy. The man, tall and muscular with piercingly blue eyes, stepped forward so he stood right between Luc’s spread legs. “I heard you’re getting married,” he purred in French. Luc nodded, dumbstruck, staring. “Then I’ve come to give you a taste of what you’re going to miss.” The man put a hand on Luc’s chest, trailing his fingers down to his waist, just about brushing Luc’s groin before he pulled back.

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He moved away, swinging his hips as he unfastened his shirt slowly. Luc, mouth open, stared at acres of tanned, hard flesh as the stripper unveiled his chiselled torso. Oh God, Luc’s wet dream come true. How come he’d never asked Daniel to dress as a cop before? He remembered the time about ten years ago that he’d been stopped in New York for speeding. He’d blatantly offered the cop a blowjob in the back of his car and the cop had blatantly accepted before Luc had cuffed him with his own handcuffs and fucked the living daylights out of him. The stripper dropped his shirt. He bucked his pelvis forward in time to the music and Luc’s gaze zeroed in on the promising bulge in his pants. The man drew his baton. He poked Luc in the chest with it, then rubbed it along his inner thighs. Luc spread his legs farther, growing hard, his audience completely tuned out. The stripper smiled. He placed his baton on the ground and then he ripped his pants off. Beneath, he wore calf-high boots and a black leather thong that strained under its burden. Luc almost panted, his eyes popping out as the stripper straddled his knee and thrust himself against Luc. Luc’s hands gripped the arms of the chair so they couldn’t clench the stripper’s hard arse. The people surrounding the dance floor catcalled and whistled. The man rested his hands on Luc’s shoulders as he gyrated, his groin sliding against Luc’s chest, half-hard. Then he clasped Luc’s head and pushed his face into his naked chest. Luc groaned, tasting sweat, his mouth seconds away from latching onto a rosy nipple before he remembered who the nipple belonged to and he got a grip. He turned his head away, his cock pulsing while he felt the groin being rubbed against him growing harder and harder. Were strippers supposed to get hard-ons? Was that in the rules? Luc didn’t know, but he guessed that if he did that for a living, he’d be pretty hard too at dozens of men watching him perform. The stripper drew back with a smirk. He turned around then bent over and shook his muscular buttocks at Luc. Then he plucked the string of his thong away and let Luc see what nestled hidden between his cheeks. Luc swore and touched himself helplessly. The man rubbed his thong back and forward like dental floss before letting it snap back and straightening. He still wore his hat and he looked commanding and arrogant as he stared down at Luc imperiously. He grabbed Luc by the wrist and yanked him out of the chair and Luc, who at six-feet-three, was never used to being dominated by anyone, found himself dragged across the room to the hidden doorway and beyond. He was in a room with a couch and red lighting, somewhere he never knew existed in this club, and he was pushed down full length while the stripper straddled his hips. “Time to have your last fun, Luc,” he was told as the man pulled his thong down and let his equipment swing free. Luc shuddered. “Look, put it away.” His voice was less than assertive. “Why?” The stripper handled himself, sliding his erect cock through his fingers. “I want to fuck you.”

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“Did Augustin pay you to fuck me?” “Yeah. I’d do it for free, though. You’re every gay man’s wet dream, Luc.” That had been said before, but Luc’s days of indiscriminate fucking around were gone forever. “Oh, Jesus, I can’t.” He was going to kill Augustin. “He said you might need persuading.” One hand slid between Luc’s legs and rubbed his aching cock. “I’m not open to persuasion. I’m sorry.” Luc pushed the hand away. The door burst open suddenly as he was trying to wriggle his way from under the stripper. A camera flashed. Luc growled. Augustin stood, grinning. “Well, well, well. Here I have the evidence that you’re not quite as faithful as Daniel would hope.” Luc pushed the stripper aside and lurched to his feet, gripping Augustin by the throat. “I know you hate him and I know you’re determined to sabotage this wedding, but I swear to God…” “Just relax before you stroke out.” Augustin held the camera out of arm’s reach while Luc clawed at him. “I won’t relax. Fucking give me that.” Augustin pulled free, stepping backward into the dark corridor. “Let’s not let your guests see you trying to strangle me.” “You’re even hotter when you’re angry, big boy,” the stripper purred behind him, pinching Luc’s arse cheek. Luc turned and took a swipe at one tormentor before addressing the other. “I don’t need you anymore as best man, Augustin. Consider yourself terminated.” He grabbed the camera, then Augustin, pulled him around and shoved him and the stripper back into the room. Then he used the handy bolt outside to lock them in. Let them both work off their testosterone until morning. He called up the incriminating photo and deleted it, shoving the camera in his pocket before going back to his guests.

Luc slouched in a chair and watched his drunken guests apathetically. What was he going to do? He had no brothers and he wasn’t sure any of his cousins could be trusted to stand up and make a speech at the wedding. He had other friends, but Augustin was his best friend, through thick and thin. The best friend who didn’t want him to marry Daniel and, if Luc’s eyes had not deceived him, had tried to take Daniel for his own. What was he going to do? “You look suicidal and it’s the eve of the supposed happiest day of your life.” Yvette sat next to him with a bottle and two glasses, pouring Luc one and handing it to him. Luc sighed. “I fired my best man.”

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“Why?” “Because he’s an arsehole.” “I told you that twenty years ago and you didn’t listen.” “Yeah, well, have you ever known me take advice on anything?” “No.” “Exactly.” “So, are you going to get another best man or are you going to do without?” Luc shrugged. Daniel was going without, but then that had something to do with the fact that Daniel’s supposed best friend had disowned him when Daniel came out, a bit like his parents had. Daniel was surrounded by shitty bastards in every corner of his life, ostracised and abandoned, and Luc was determined not to fail his fiancé the way everyone else had. He felt sudden pity for the small selection of guests representing Daniel’s half of the wedding. His chest ached with sorrow. He guessed that was all his fault. If he’d left Daniel alone when he’d first come to Luc’s restaurant and not followed his cock and later, helplessly, his heart, Daniel would still be firmly in the closet and on everyone’s Christmas card list. But then Luc would have missed the chance of love. He put his head in his hands. “I think I’m going to cry.” “Oh Luc-y.” Yvette pulled him into her arms and held him hard. “It’s an emotional time, but don’t cry yet. Not until tomorrow when you put your ring on his finger. And I’m not talking about your arse.” Luc failed to laugh. He was overwhelmed by such sadness that, for a moment, he considered calling off the wedding. He lurched to his feet, pulling out his phone. Hurrying across the room to the bathroom, he connected to Daniel. He didn’t care what time it was or that he was going to wake up his fiancé. He only cared about hearing the voice that would make all of this all right. “Luc, baby, it’s two in the morning.” Daniel’s voice was thick with sleep. “I’m sorry. I had to speak to you.” “What’s the matter?” Daniel was instantly alert, obviously sensing the anxiety in Luc’s tone. Luc started to stammer. “Augustin bought me a stripper. He paid the guy to sleep with me. And I didn’t, I want you to know that. No matter what that mean bastard tells you. I didn’t touch him, I swear on my life.” “All right.” Daniel’s voice was quiet and wary. “I’ve told him he’s not my best man anymore and then I thought of how you haven’t got a best man, either, and I felt so sorry for you and…” Luc burst into loud sobs, which he shocked himself with. He hadn’t cried in fifteen years since a particularly prestigious and stressful cooking competition when he was first starting out. Presenting a tarte au chocolat at the judge’s table, he had dropped the dessert face down on the floor and sat there among the ruins crying until his mother had come from the audience, gathered him up and led him away weeping. Luc didn’t allow such abysmal lack of control anymore. Usually he

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made other people cry. Tonight was the culmination of all the many months of stress this relationship had caused him. “…I’ve ruined your life and I’ll understand if you call this wedding off.” “Oh, Luc,” Daniel said softly with his voice breaking. “You haven’t ruined my life. You’ve made my life. Nothing would ever be the same again without you. I couldn’t live without you.” “Do what’s right and get rid of me before I drag you any further down,” Luc insisted. “Listen to me. I’ll be there waiting for you tomorrow and I expect you to be there.” Daniel’s voice was the firm one he used when he had to take charge with Luc. “Don’t let me down, Luc.” Luc swallowed. “I don’t deserve you.” It was a pathetic whisper. “Shut up. Go home, go to bed, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Luc sighed, wiping a hand over his eyes. “I love you.” “I love you too. Goodnight.” “Goodnight, my sweet Danny.” Luc disconnected and pocketed his phone. He looked at his red eyes in the mirror. “Prick,” he told his reflection. He exited the bathroom and found Yvette at the bar. “Want to be my best man tomorrow?” Yvette squealed and threw her arms around Luc’s neck. She wasn’t a stereotypical lesbian. Rather, she looked like a supermodel with her golden hair and six-foot frame. She liked all the things girls weren’t supposed to like—fast cars, football and other women. And she loved Luc unconditionally. “I’ll stay up all night writing my speech,” she declared. Luc smiled. “I’m going home.” Then his thoughts darkened as he remembered Augustin still locked in the back room. He crossed the room and let himself in through the hidden door. As he drew back the bolt, he heard rough gasps and moans from inside. He flung open the door. Augustin had the stripper bent naked over one arm of the couch, buried balls deep in him. Both men’s heads jerked toward the door, Augustin flushing crimson, the stripper merely smirking. “Come and join us, Luc.” Luc’s underused and rampant cock twitched. He was into threesomes in a big way. At least he had been before he’d met Daniel. He liked to lie back while two men slavishly pleasured him. He liked to fuck one man while his partner had his cock sucked by the third man. He liked one man at the back of him with tongue and the other at the front. His eyes met Augustin’s. “Come on,” his friend dared him boldly, his expression defiant. “I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole, Augustin,” Luc sneered. “You filthy little bastard.” He slammed the door behind him and escaped, trembling, via the fire door, catching a cab outside.

At home, Daniel lay sleepless in bed cuddling Henri with one arm. As he’d expected where Augustin was involved, Luc had clearly had a riotous stag night. What a shock it was, though, to hear his normally

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shuttered and cloistered lover break down that way. Something serious must have gone on, perhaps more than what Luc had confessed. No matter what, though, it was too late now. Luc held Daniel’s heart for all time, and he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The thought that plagued him until dawn, though, was the idea that Luc would stand him up in front of five hundred people tomorrow.

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Chapter Nine

Luc woke up facedown with his face in a puddle of saliva, the pillow stuck to his cheek, his mouth dryer than the Saharan desert. For a moment he reached out an arm to cuddle his beloved before he remembered he had been here at the restaurant alone for the past week and today was the day he got Daniel back. Then he remembered what had happened last night and that drunken two a.m. phone call and he cringed in horror. Jesus, that hot stripper, that uniform, the guy on top of him with his cock and balls hanging out. He shuddered, putting a hand below the quilt. Fuck, Daniel was going to be begging for mercy by the time Luc finished with him tonight. If he turned up. If he hadn’t taken Luc’s confession about the stripper as a pack of lies and thought Luc had been unfaithful and was about to stand him up at the altar. Luc knew he was often such a bastard that he deserved to get stood up by Daniel. He reached out to the bedside table for his phone and opened a blank message. Then he hesitated with his thumb over the keys. Daniel was superstitious. Getting contact from Luc on the morning of their wedding, even if not in the flesh, would probably horrify Daniel and lead to an anxious outburst of nerves and much wringing of hands. No, better not to do anything, even if Luc desperately needed reassurance that Daniel wasn’t going to break his heart that afternoon. Instead he dialled downstairs to the restaurant. “Antoine, are you up?” “I’ve been up for hours,” his head waiter replied scornfully. “While you sleep off your absinthe. Someone has to get this show on the road.” “Thank you, Antoine. Are the flowers okay?” “Yes, still alive. Are you?” “Barely.” “You don’t need to come down here. I’m in control. The tables are being set outside and the band are tuning up. Raoul will help me with anything that needs doing with the food. I’ll bring your breakfast up soon. Have a bath and get dressed. Be down here for one o’clock.” “Thank you, Antoine,” Luc said again gratefully and hung up. He glanced at the clock. It was only nine. He closed his eyes for just thirty seconds. Or so he told himself.

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Daniel was in the bath with Henri sitting on the edge looking into the water with fascination. From the open door Daniel could see his wedding suit hanging on his wardrobe door and it gave him a shiver of pleasure to look at it. On the bed sat a box containing Luc’s platinum ring, chosen by them both. Daniel already had one ring, engraved with both their names, which Luc had given him when he had proposed, but Daniel would keep that as an eternity ring to wear on his other hand now and wear Luc’s wedding ring on his left. He tried not to dwell on last night’s phone call. Not when it was all he had thought about all night. Luc would show. Daniel was sure of it. Maybe. He was so tired. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift.

“What are you doing?” a voice said. Luc’s eyes jerked open and found the scowling countenance of Antoine hanging over him. “It’s eleven o’clock and you’re not even out of bed. At least show willing on your wedding day. Merde!” “All right, all right,” Luc grumbled, rolling over, dragging himself into a slouching position. Antoine put a wooden tray on his lap. “Here. Eat it all. I don’t want you passing out from low blood sugar halfway through the goddamn ceremony.” “No, Dad.” Luc smirked. Antoine cuffed him around the head. “And don’t be so cheeky. You’ve got two hours, Luc. If you’re not down by one, then so help me, me and Raoul will drag you down those stairs and you’ll get married in your boxers.” “He wouldn’t mind.” “Yes, well, your parents would. They’re already downstairs poking around and generally getting under my feet.” Luc groaned. “Don’t let them come up here, whatever you do.” “I won’t, but I’m going to call you in an hour and if it sounds like you’re asleep, I’m going to send your mother up, that’s a promise.” “All right. Slave driver.” “Someone has to be. Poor Daniel has nearly had a nervous breakdown organising this wedding with absolutely no input from you. The least you can do is turn up not looking like a dog’s dinner.” Luc glared guiltily. “What are you talking about? I’ve made all the food.” “And it’s your job! Hardly a hardship for you.”

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“Okay, okay.” Luc was well and truly told off and on a guilt trip. He made a mental note to make Daniel come so many times that evening that he would lose the power of speech afterwards. Which was always a bonus where his motor-mouthed husband-to-be was concerned. “Bien. See you in two hours. And have a bloody shave.” Antoine slammed the door after him. Luc sighed and sank back against his pillows. He picked up his fork and lethargically stabbed some scrambled egg just as his phone shrilled on the bedside table. “Luc-y,” Yvette purred down the phone. “Are you up?” “Oui, oui.” “Good. I’ll be there at one. I’ve written my speech. I concentrated heavily on describing your first meeting, where you had to go upstairs and wank off as soon as you set eyes on Daniel.” “You better be joking,” Luc warned. “No, why?” “Yvette, my parents are going to be there. My grand-mère is going to be there. And Daniel doesn’t know that I went and wanked over him when I was supposed to be making his hors d’oeuvres.” “Tant pis. Everyone will know soon enough. See you at one.” Yvette hung up, cackling.

Daniel had fallen asleep and woke up in a cold bath, shivering. Cursing himself and leaning over to look at his watch on the side of the sink, he saw it was eleven-thirty. Wonderful, just wonderful. He was supposed to be leaving at one-fifteen. He climbed out and let the water drain from the bath. Then he switched the shower on and turned it to hot to warm up again. By the time he’d dragged himself out, it was eleven forty-five. A knock came at the door as he towelled dry. Shit, who was that? Like he had the time for guests. He pulled on a robe and hurried out of the bedroom down the hall to the door, checking the spy-hole. All he saw was a huge bouquet of flowers and a hand holding them. God, it better not be Luc or Daniel would spontaneously combust. He pulled the door open. “Monsieur Sheridan?” A head peered from behind the flowers. “Oui.” “Signez-vous.” Daniel took the proffered pen and signed before the flowers were thrust into his arms. “Merci.” “Au revoir.” Daniel closed the door and went back inside, taking the flowers to the kitchen where he laid them on the counter. On closer inspection, among the red and white roses, lilies nestled. Daniel scowled furiously. Who was sending him fucking funeral flowers on the day of his wedding? Luc’s idea of a joke?

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He pulled a card free. To Daniel on your wedding day. Love, Mum and Dad. Daniel reeled back in horror.

Luc had finished his breakfast and it had settled his queasy stomach somewhat. Now he was in the shower with the radio blaring and trying to ignore the hard-on that begged to be satisfied. He debated back and forth with himself. What harm could it do? Well, it could undo all the work he had put in by agreeing to live apart from Daniel for the last week. It could undo the promise he’d made to himself to save it all for Daniel and their wedding night. Then again, if he jerked off now, it might stop him coming in five seconds tonight before his pants were even open. He growled and banged his head against the wall in frustration before he took his hand from around himself and firmly ignored his need.

Daniel’s scalped hair was not playing. The more styling product he put on it, the worse it looked until finally it looked dipped in oil and not washed for a week. Fuming, he marched into the bathroom, tore off his robe and put his head in the sink, shampooing his hair again furiously. When he came out, he glanced at the bedside table clock. Twelve-thirty. He threw himself down on the bed and took some deep breaths, willing away the rising panic. He had forty-five minutes, but he had to remember it wouldn’t be a catastrophe if he was late. And besides, Luc kind of deserved a fright anyway. His thoughts drifted back to the flowers. What was his mother playing at? He couldn’t allow himself to revisit all the pain he’d gone through when he’d been outed in the press and his mother had disowned him. He remembered the lying in bed for days here at Luc’s penthouse, how Luc had been so kind and solicitous with that underlying current of impatience he couldn’t hide at Daniel’s playing of the victim. Which Luc didn’t do in any way, shape or form. He grabbed life with his teeth and took what he wanted. Daniel had to focus on today. And on the fact that he was finally taming celebrated man-eater Luc Tessier in front of five hundred people in the wedding of the decade. Oh God. He felt his face drain of blood and he charged into the bathroom to vomit.

Luc cleaned the mirror of steam and shaved carefully and slowly. Even with such attention he nicked himself, swearing as he bled copiously before dampening a piece of toilet paper and sticking it on his jaw. He applied some cooling after-shave balm and then he walked naked into the bedroom and pulled on some boxers. He looked in the mirror as he put on his wedding shirt, fastening it up and fiddling with the starched collar before he pulled on the black pants. Over the shirt, he put on the red, embroidered waistcoat

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and then wrestled with the black cravat for several minutes, sticking a white gold and black diamond pin through it that Daniel had bought him two weeks ago. He studied his reflection in the mirror once he’d put the frockcoat on. His collar and cravat looked like a five-year-old had dressed him. He would have to get someone downstairs to help him with that. The matching top hat sat in a box in the corner and he put that on and then laughed at himself in the mirror. “Twat,” he said, taking the hat off and smoothing back his hair. He leaned closer, studying his silvergrey eyes and his skin. His skin was clear of imperfections and looked good, apart from the piece of toilet paper, but his eyes were slightly dark underneath. Luc searched in a drawer for an under eye treatment that promised to eliminate dark circles. He rubbed some of the lotion in and then waited for it to dry before adding some of Yves St. Laurent’s Touche Éclat. Daniel swore by this product. In fact, this was Daniel’s that Luc had stolen when he moved to the restaurant. Luc hoped he didn’t need it this morning.

Oh God, he looked hideous. Daniel sat in front of the dressing-table mirror, ashen and sweating, his mouth lingering with acid despite copious amounts of Listerine. It was twelve forty-five. What was he going to do? He reached for his phone, then put it down again. He couldn’t call Luc. Not an hour before their wedding. He trembled, pulling at his wet hair, his stomach churning in preparation for further vomiting. He called the restaurant. “Antoine?” “Oui. Is that Daniel?” “Yes, oh God, Antoine, I’m going to be late. I’m sick…” Daniel wailed. “All right, listen to me. Calm down.” Antoine’s English was so heavily accented that Daniel’s brain took its time to recognise the words. “Do you want to speak to Luc?” “No! Oh God.” “Right. Just a minute.” Daniel heard a rapid stream of French directed at someone before a female voice spoke. “Daniel? This is Yvette, I’m Luc’s best man.” “What?” “I know. It’s complicated. Listen to me. I’m coming over to help you get ready. Leave the door open, I’ll let myself in. Sit down, compose yourself, take some deep breaths. D’accord?” “Oui,” Daniel responded. “Good boy. See you soon.”

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“Where’s Yvette?” Luc had made it downstairs by one-fifteen. The restaurant and grounds beyond were a furiously bustling hive of activity. Guests already mingled on the lawn, drinking champagne. “She’s gone over to Daniel’s.” “What?” “He’s not feeling too well. He’s in a panic.” “Merde.” Luc sank down on a chair. “Get me a brandy, Antoine. He’s going to stand me up.” “No, he’s not,” Antoine scolded, going behind the bar to fill a glass before handing it to Luc. “Yes, he is. Oh God.” “Darling!” Luc’s head turned and he groaned inwardly as his mother tottered through the open French windows on spike heels wearing the biggest hat Luc had ever seen. “Luc, sweetheart, you look beautiful, let me look at you.” His mother pulled him up out of his chair and examined him from every angle, straightening his cravat. “What’s that on your face?” She pulled off the blood-stained toilet paper. Luc put his hand up. “Merde. You made it bleed again.” “Don’t swear, Luc, it doesn’t suit you.” “No, Maman.” Madame Tessier was a stunningly beautiful woman who lived life to the fullest and didn’t care what other people thought. She’d taken her time to accept what Luc was after he’d come out, but finally embraced it the way she embraced everything else. His father was loud and robust with a ridiculous moustache that wouldn’t be out of place in the gay community. He came forward, clapped Luc on the shoulder and shook his hand. “That man of yours is getting a fine specimen,” he declared. Luc blushed. He took a serviette from the table and held it to his face. “Why don’t you go and find your seats,” he suggested. “It won’t be long now.” “You seem very anxious,” said his mother. “What’s going on?” Luc downed his brandy and held his glass out to Antoine. “He’s going to stand me up.” Just like last night, he felt ridiculously close to tears. “Oh, my baby, why do you say that?” His mother hugged him, enveloping him in a cloud of Chanel. “No, he’s not,” Antoine cut in firmly. “Go outside and see your guests, Luc. Get everybody seated. He’ll be here.” Luc swallowed the lump in his throat and did as he was told. He went outside with his mother and father and prepared to wait for as long as it took.

“Listen to me, you look fine and it’s nothing a bit of make-up can’t sort out, do you understand?”

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Daniel nodded uncertainly. He sat on the stool at his dressing-table while Yvette stood above him with a large powder brush. She had arrived five minutes ago armed with a gigantic make-up box and a bottle of wine, and she had sat Daniel down, applied a cold compress to his face, made him swallow five milligrams of diazepam and given him a stern talking-to about how much Luc loved him. She’d covered the dark circles under his eyes and applied a coat of clear mascara to his lashes. Now she powdered very lightly over his pale skin, taking away the sickly sheen, then she took his tub of hair gunk and manipulated his shorn locks until they stood spiky and shiny, the way he liked it. She sprayed some cologne on his throat and then directed him to get dressed, thrusting a glass of wine into his hand before she left the room. Daniel pulled his wedding suit on. He stood looking at himself in the mirror and felt the alcohol at work already in his bloodstream. He hoped once the diazepam kicked in that he wouldn’t be a sedated zombie, but rather that than his current state. It was one forty-five. He was supposed to be getting married in fifteen minutes. His limo was already waiting downstairs. He called Yvette back in, who smiled in delight when she saw him in his suit before she started to fuss with his collar and cravat. “Right.” Finally she stood back. “We’re done. Go and use some mouthwash. You don’t want to arrive stinking of booze.”

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Chapter Ten

Daniel and Yvette entered by the gate at the bottom of the grounds, fielding the photographers outside. Henri ran ahead on his long red lead, wearing a tiny tuxedo and bowtie. The sun was merciless. Daniel’s palms sweated and his collar choked him. Immediately to their left loomed the marquee set with fifty tables for the meal. In front of them was the table set with champagne and canapés for directly after the ceremony. Apart from waiters and waitresses in black and white, though, no one else was visible. That was because they were all seated on the hill above, awaiting one of the grooms. Daniel and Yvette held on to each other as they climbed the hill. She because she wore silly heels and he because his legs trembled so much. They reached the crest and there on the flat, massive plain outside the restaurant sat rows and rows of chairs, as far as the eye could see, all occupied. At the end of the long, narrow aisle stood a man in a morning suit with back turned, hands folded behind him as though he went to a firing squad. Daniel would recognise Luc’s body anywhere. Tall and broad-shouldered, his stance arrogant and supremely confident. The suit fitted him perfectly like a second skin, drawing attention to his many attributes. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. Oh, Luc was beautiful. Daniel was so, so lucky. “See?” Yvette squeezed his damp hand. “He’s here and you’re here. I don’t know why you thought he’d stand you up.” “Because I’m a dick,” Daniel replied just as a woman on the very back row in a huge black-and-pink hat got up and came toward him. “Hello, Daniel.” Oh God, it was his mother and behind her, in a sober black suit, was his father. They were both dressed like they were attending a funeral. “What are you doing here?” Daniel asked in horror, his face blanching again beneath the carefully applied make-up. “Come now, what sort of greeting is that? You think I would miss my only son’s wedding?” His mother’s nose wrinkled in disdain. “Even if it’s not a real wedding.” Daniel’s teeth clenched and ground. “You weren’t invited.” “Don’t get upset. You don’t want to walk down the aisle all tearful and red-faced.” His mother gave a tight smile.

The Last Supper

Daniel glanced back down the aisle and his gaze locked with Luc’s, who was striding rapidly toward him. Oh no, not before the ceremony. He resisted the urge to run away and hide before seeing Luc brought him anymore bad luck. But Luc spared him only a small glance before he addressed Mrs. Sheridan. “You weren’t invited. You broke your son’s heart. Get out.” Daniel’s mother, unusually, became conciliatory. “We’re going to sit at the back and watch, then have some of your lovely food and be on our way. You won’t hear a peep from us. I promise.” “Bullshit. You just want to be in Hello magazine. Publicity whore,” Luc spat. “Excuse me,” Daniel’s father finally piped up at the slur. “Why, what’ve you done?” Luc growled at him, towering over Daniel’s father by half a foot. “Both of you, leave before I get my security to throw you out.” “It’s okay,” Daniel said quietly. The diazepam had kicked in. He felt a little like he was out of his body and it was quite pleasant. Luc looked unsure. “Sit down and shut up,” he addressed Daniel’s parents imperiously before he picked up Henri and thrust him at Mrs. Sheridan. “And take the dog.” He strode forward and took Daniel’s face in his hands. “Are you okay, mon amour?” “Yes.” “Are you on drugs?” “Diazepam and wine.” Luc sighed and spared a glare for Yvette. “Are you going to make it to the front without falling down?” “Of course, Luc.” Daniel gave a wan smile. “Have faith.” Right at that moment, he longed to fast forward to their wedding night. To when all this was over and he and Luc were alone. Luc still looked unsure. “Are you sure you want this?” He caressed Daniel’s face with his fingertips, his silvery eyes intense. “What?” “You do want to get married?” “Of course I do!” “You can pull out now. I’ll understand.” “Luc, I don’t want to pull out, I love you.” Luc sighed. He closed his eyes and smiled. “I love you too, Danny. Come on, then, let’s do this. I’ll walk you up the aisle. Hold on to me and try not to fall.” He glanced at Yvette. “Have you got the rings?” “Yes.” “Good.” Luc took Daniel’s hand and led him to the end of the aisle. “Are you ready?” “Yes.”

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“Then let’s go.” Luc signalled to the string quartet. The band struck up the opening notes to Mozart’s Symphony No. 40, and five hundred faces turned to stare. Daniel moved only when Luc pulled him forward. He asked himself how he had gone from a man firmly in the closet to a man getting married to another man in front of all these people within eighteen months. Luc had changed him beyond all recognition and he liked to think it was for the better. He kept his head up, looking straight ahead to the registrar who waited at the end of the aisle to marry him and concentrated on putting one foot steadily in front of the other. With each step he felt more and more discombobulated, and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. He smothered a sudden giggle. Luc glared at him. “Oh, just you wait ’til I get you alone,” he hissed out of the side of his mouth. “I’m going to spank you so hard for this. Not only are you late, but you turn up off your face.” “Promises, promises,” Daniel retorted and smiled when his beloved’s gaze met his. They reached the end of the aisle and stood beneath the flower-bedecked arch. Luc squeezed his hand, smiling gently, his eyes dancing with undisguised love. Daniel’s heart melted. He tried to focus on Luc’s face and not look behind him at the sea of people watching. The strains of the music died down, replaced by hush. The registrar cleared his throat and began to speak. Luc had generously offered to have the ceremony in English. “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the union of Luc Raphael Tessier and Daniel Heathcliff Sheridan.” “What the fuck? Heathcliff? Are you having a laugh?” Luc hissed. “Shut up,” Daniel hissed back. “My mother likes Wuthering Heights. It’s not my fault. And naming you after a fucking angel is a bit of a joke too.” The first few rows tittered. The registrar cleared his throat. He launched into a speech about love and fidelity which Daniel didn’t listen to, but he hoped Luc did. His head was swimming. He’d had no breakfast and he looked forward to sitting down and stuffing his face shortly, although no doubt he would still be too anxious to eat. “Daniel, repeat after me.” Daniel’s attention snapped to the registrar. “I do solemnly declare.” “I do solemnly declare.” Daniel’s voice was barely audible. A squeeze of his hand encouraged him to clear his throat and speak up. “That I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Daniel Heathcliff Sheridan.” Stop saying my fucking middle name, Daniel thought, glaring a little at the registrar as he repeated the words. “May not register a civil partnership with Luc Raphael Tessier.” Daniel repeated the words again. Luc smiled and looked into his eyes all the while. The registrar got Luc to say the words too before he moved on to getting both men to say that they understood that they would be forming a civil partnership on signing the schedule.

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The Last Supper

The registrar moved on to the vows. Daniel felt weak and light-headed. He prayed it would soon be over. “Daniel, will you solemnly promise that you will always protect this man with your utmost care, that you will honour and cherish him in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, and that in all things you will be to him a faithful and loving partner?” “I will,” Daniel said. Luc was misty-eyed. He looked like he was going to cry and Daniel rather hoped he didn’t because then he would break down and cry like a baby too and the ceremony would have to be halted. The registrar asked Luc the same question. “I will,” Luc said solemnly. “If you can get out the rings now, gentlemen, Luc’s first.” Yvette produced a box. She handed Daniel the ring. “Repeat after me, Daniel. I give you this ring…” “I give you this ring.” “As a symbol of my love.” “As a symbol of my love.” “And of our Civil Partnership today.” “And of our Civil Partnership today.” Daniel lifted Luc’s left hand and slid the ring onto his third finger. Daniel couldn’t help notice how Luc scowled furiously when it was his turn to say these words. All along, Luc had called this a wedding. He refused to think of it as anything else. But today it clearly stuck in his craw to have to call it a civil partnership in front of all these witnesses. Luc placed the ring on Daniel’s finger. Daniel smiled in relief. It was almost over. The registrar ushered them both over to a small table where he handed Daniel a pen and got him to sign the book, before Luc did the same. They moved back under the arch. “By virtue of signing the schedule in my presence as a Registrar of Civil Partnerships, and before the witnesses, I declare that you, Luc Raphael Tessier, and you, Daniel Heathcliff Sheridan, have now formed a Civil Partnership in accordance with the law. You may now kiss.” Henri barked from the back. Luc smiled. He brought a hand to Daniel’s face, cupping his cheek gently before he lowered his lips and kissed him tenderly. Daniel was transported back eighteen months to the end of a dinner at Luc’s restaurant and that first scorching kiss during the tour of the kitchen. He opened his eyes as Luc drew back and smiled with all the joy in his heart. This was finally it. It was done and Luc was his. A chorus of cat-calls and cheers erupted as they turned around and walked back down the aisle, showered with confetti.

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Chapter Eleven

After the photos, Luc led Daniel over to the table holding drinks and passed his husband a glass of pink champagne. “Mon amour,” he whispered in Daniel’s ear, nibbling at the lobe. “How beautiful you look today. But please give me the address of your hairdresser so I can have them shot.” “Shut up,” Daniel said. “I only said take a bit off, not leave me looking like I’m on chemotherapy.” “Gives me less to grab on to, Danny,” Luc complained. His lips followed a path down Daniel’s throat, kissing softly. “Save it ’til later,” Daniel said with an unmistakable shudder. “I’m not sure I can,” Luc whispered. “We might have to have a quick tumble in the kitchen. For old times’ sake.” He grinned wickedly and saw the corresponding fire in his beloved’s violet eyes. He kept an arm around Daniel as friends and members of his family approached to congratulate them. Luc’s parents kissed Daniel on both cheeks. One of his gay friends, this time dressed as a Victorian lady, kissed Daniel on the mouth. Luc scowled and leaned over to wipe the lipstick from his husband’s perfect cupid’s bow. Luc’s attention wandered to Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan, who had leashed Henri to the table and helped themselves to champagne and were talking to those of Daniel’s friends who had made it over for the ceremony. Luc’s gaze sharpened on Mr. Sheridan. Jesus Christ, he held the famous locked briefcase. Why exactly had he brought that to the wedding? Oh God, maybe he had a bomb in it. He wouldn’t put that past Daniel’s dragon of a mother at all. Daniel’s voice distracted him. “Oh, my God, there’s Gérard Depardieu.” “You’re such a groupie, Danny,” Luc said. “Here, taste one of my canapés.” He popped a bite into Daniel’s mouth. Daniel chewed. He washed it down with some champagne. “I feel faint, Luc.” Luc held on to him a bit tighter. “Do you need to sit down?” “No, I’m okay, it’s just a bit hot,” Daniel replied before he keeled over, coming to rest with his face on one of Madame Tessier’s expensive stilettos. “Everyone stand back and give him some air,” Luc said dramatically as though he was in a film before he swept Daniel up into his arms and carried him through to the cooler air of the marquee, lying him down on one of the couches where he slapped Daniel’s face lightly.

The Last Supper

“Oh, my baby, my baby,” squealed Mrs. Sheridan, rushing into the marquee. “Here, let me.” She grabbed a jug of mineral water off a nearby table and threw it into Daniel’s face. “What the hell?” Luc growled as Daniel came to, coughing and spluttering, and immediately started to wail about his hair. “Luc was right about you, you really do cause chaos everywhere you go, don’t you?” The statuesque Madame Tessier stood looking down her nose at Mrs. Sheridan. Luc groaned inwardly. “And you are?” Mrs. Sheridan regarded Luc’s mother like something on the bottom of her shoe. “The mother of the groom. And I know all about you. You bigot.” Mrs. Sheridan flushed an angry red. Luc crushed Daniel’s face into his shoulder so he couldn’t see his mother take a swing at Madame Tessier, miss and tumble headfirst into the ornamental fountain. Mrs. Sheridan screamed, Mr. Sheridan rushed forward to help, and cameras flashed at the entrance to the marquee. Monsieur Tessier grabbed Madame Tessier and lifted her off her feet, carrying her bodily out of the marquee. Mr. Sheridan pulled a limp, bedraggled Mrs. Sheridan out of the fountain, her magnificent hat collapsed into an unrecognisable pancake. “Oh, my God, Mother, what are you doing?” Daniel cried, jumping off the couch, pale and feverishlooking, drops of water running down his face. Mr. Sheridan led Daniel’s crying mother out of the marquee, briefcase in hand. Luc pushed Daniel back to the couch and took him in his arms, stroking his wet head. “There, there,” he said, trying his best not to smirk. “It’s all right, Danny. You need to tell me what your father carries in his briefcase because I’m afraid your mother’s going to blow up the wedding.” Daniel moaned and hid his face against Luc’s shoulder. “It’s a gun. I told you before Luc, he’s a spy, I swear he is. But maybe today it’s a bomb. Oh God. I want to go home.” Luc rolled his eyes. “Shush. Let’s go back outside. You have a duty to your guests not to fall apart.” Luc’s gay friend in drag entered the tent. “I think you had a hypo,” he said helpfully. “I’m diabetic. Take one of these.” He offered Daniel a glucose tablet, which Daniel put in his mouth and grimaced around. “Okay, come on.” Luc pulled Daniel to his feet. “The show must go on.” Outside he called for quiet and, holding firmly on to Daniel, raised his glass in a toast. “To my husband, the most beautiful man in the world.” Daniel went scarlet and looked like he wanted to disappear through the grass. Luc kissed him and smiled sympathetically. Poor Daniel. He looked so pale and wan, his carefully coiffured hair wet and flat. No doubt he’d had nothing to eat that day apart from diazepam and wine and his body had conspired against him. Never mind. At least Daniel’s mother had been put in her place. There was no sign of her or Mr. Sheridan.

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After some time chatting with guests, Luc called for everyone to be seated for lunch. He went through to the marquee, lingering in the middle with Daniel, waiting until the guests found their tables. He and Daniel were to be seated at the top table overlooking the others, Luc’s parents on his right, Daniel on his left, Yvette on Daniel’s left. Luc took his time to admire the six-tier cake he had slaved over that held pride of place in the middle of the room. He fussed with the ribbons surrounding it, then looked up as Daniel tensed beside him. Leading his date—last night’s stripper—into the tent, was Augustin.

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Chapter Twelve

“I don’t know how you dare,” Daniel growled. “I was invited,” Augustin sneered. “In case you’ve forgotten, your husband is my best friend. And he wasn’t whiter than white last night, either, no matter what he might tell you.” “What?” Daniel’s eyes flickered to Augustin’s companion, tall and beefy and looking uncomfortably like Daniel’s idea of a stripper. “Shut up, Augustin,” Luc butted in. “Why? Don’t want him to know that my date sat on your lap last night and rubbed your cock?” Daniel stared at Luc. “Danny, I told you nothing happened.” “Which is why you stole my camera. Check his room, Daniel, he might not have deleted all the photos off it.” Luc went pale. “Danny, I swear…” Daniel stalked from the tent with Luc chasing him. Through the throng of guests he marched, toward the restaurant. Luc grabbed him by the arm and Daniel shook him free. He went through the kitchens and up the spiral staircase leading to Luc’s bedroom. “This is ridiculous!” Luc cried behind him. “Have some trust in me, Danny!” Daniel ignored him. The camera lay on the dressing-table. He wrenched it up and fumbled with buttons a moment until the photo album came up. The last photo taken was Luc sitting on a chair in the middle of a dance floor with a man in a thong straddling his lap. Daniel showed Luc the photo and saw by Luc’s shocked reaction that he didn’t expect it to be there. Daniel flicked back. There were a dozen pictures in all. Luc sitting in the same position with the stripper over him in various states of undress. “Look,” Luc protested, jabbing the camera. “I told you about the stripper and I told you nothing happened. Look at my hands. I didn’t put them on him once. I swear to you.” Daniel let the camera drop onto the bed. “Please tell me you believe me.” “Just tell me why then, Luc, your best friend didn’t want this marriage to happen.”

Scarlet Blackwell

Luc sighed. “I don’t know. He…he’s always been funny when I’ve…fucked a guy for too long. He’s jealous, I suppose, of anyone who’s going to take me away from him. I think he thinks I should be in love with him because I’m gay. I’ve never been interested in him, but…maybe he’s in love with me. I don’t know.” Luc shrugged. Daniel stared at him. “You think he is? I thought he was straight.” “So did I. Until I saw him fucking the stripper last night.” “Jesus. So he’s sabotaged your relationships before?” Luc smiled. “I didn’t have relationships before you, Danny, but there was this one guy I saw a few times. After he met Augustin, he was mysteriously deported from the country. The guy after him was arrested on tax evasion and went to jail.” Daniel couldn’t believe his ears. “Christ, I’m going to end up murdered.” “Don’t be dramatic, he’s not going to murder you.” “Isn’t he?” “No, I promise.” “Have you fucked Bangkok ladyboys, Luc?” “What?” “Augustin said you had.” “Augustin’s a compulsive liar. I’m going to kill him.” “Not if I kill him first.”

Daniel seemed to have a controlled air of calm when he and Luc left the restaurant to go back to the wedding party. He had drunk another glass of champagne at the bar and was rather unsteady on his feet. Luc held on to him tightly as they walked back over the lawn, afraid something terrible was around the corner. Augustin was standing in the middle of the marquee, fondling his stripper’s arse none too discreetly, when Daniel walked up to him. He punched Luc’s friend, sending him reeling back where he spun around, almost in slow-motion, before falling face-first into the wedding cake. Luc howled as his masterpiece was destroyed. A cacophony of voices erupted and cameras flashed. Augustin got up, wiping butter cream and jam from his eyes. “You queer little bastard,” he snarled at Daniel before he grabbed a handful of cake and threw it. The cake splattered across Daniel’s face and suit. He cried out in outrage and shoved Augustin back into the cake, holding him down by the throat while Augustin shovelled up handfuls of cake and pressed it into Daniel’s face.

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Luc yelled hopelessly in French. He tried to drag Daniel back and was hit in the face by cake. A giggling child thought it was a game, darted in, grabbed a bowl of trifle from the table and launched it at Augustin’s stripper. The stripper growled, lunged for the child and fell on top of Daniel. The table collapsed; Augustin, Daniel and the stripper floundering wetly amongst the ruins of food. A guest moved in with a video camera. Luc thought he was going to cry. He stood watching the chaos unfold. Daniel got up and was confronted by his mother. “You’re a disgrace.” He grabbed a strawberry flan and pushed it in her face. She cried out, stumbled back and knocked Mr. Sheridan and his briefcase into the fountain. A flying lemon tart hit Luc on the side of the head. He snatched up the infamous briefcase before Mr. Sheridan could. “What do you keep in here, Mr. Sheridan?” “None of your business, boy.” Mr. Sheridan pulled himself laboriously from the fountain and glared at his cream-faced, crying wife. Luc tried the locks. “What’s the combination?” “I’m not telling you. Give it back.” Mr. Sheridan lunged forward, slipped on cake and ended up facefirst in the groin of Augustin’s stripper, who obviously thought he was performing, grabbed the man’s head and gyrated against him several times before he remembered where he was and let Mr. Sheridan go. Luc ran out of the marquee with the briefcase. He found a stone in the nearby rose bed and smashed at the locks. Meanwhile, the fight moved outside. Daniel chased a screaming Augustin over the lawn, wrestling him to the ground by the duck pond and thrusting his head into the water, startling the birds. Luc concentrated on the briefcase. He didn’t much care if Daniel killed Augustin or not. If he didn’t get into this briefcase right now, he suspected he would finally lose it and turn into a raving maniac over the destruction of his wedding. The locks fell off, broken. He put the briefcase on his lap and turned his face pointlessly aside as he opened it in case the bomb inside blew it off. When nothing happened, he peered slowly inside. He stared and stared and then he sank back on the lawn, laughing. He scooped some tarte au citron off his face and sucked his finger, admiring his handiwork. Trudging back over the grass from the pond was Daniel, covered from head to toe in cake and wet through. In the distance, Augustin lay motionless by the side of the pond, his stripper slapping his face to bring him round. Daniel stood over Luc, hands on hips. “There,” he said triumphantly, his violet eyes lit maniacally. “Now we can get on with the wedding.”

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Luc roared with laughter, grabbed Daniel and pulled him down on top of him, tasting cream and chocolate. “God, I love you.” “I love you too, Luc.” Daniel kissed him passionately. Cameras flashed. Let Hello print whatever they wanted, Luc thought defiantly. Let it not be said that he’d had a boring wedding. “What’s in my dad’s briefcase?” Daniel asked. “It’s best if you don’t know.”

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Chapter Thirteen

Daniel and Luc wore suits that Yvette had gone back to the penthouse to fetch. Lunch and speeches were over and the string quartet was playing “Adagio for Strings” by Samuel Barber. The cellist still had vertigo and was playing his instrument in a reclining chair, the cello lying over his body. Luc and Daniel had the floor, dancing slowly, Daniel’s head on Luc’s shoulder. Now that his stomach was full, Daniel felt clear-headed. He couldn’t believe what he’d done to Luc’s wedding cake and the desserts. And his lovely suit. But it had been worth it to get back at Augustin. And how he’d enjoyed putting cake in his mother’s face too. Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan were down, but not out. They had sat down to dinner wet and full of cake and now they were at the bar, drinking it dry, along with Augustin and his stripper. Daniel had to admire them all for getting on with it. Yvette’s best-man speech had embarrassed the hell out of him. Even Luc had turned red when Yvette had recounted their history for their guests. How Luc had seen Daniel arrive at his restaurant. How he was so instantly smitten that he had to go upstairs and “pleasure himself”. And then how he had invited Daniel into his kitchen with the aim of seducing him and used several food products on him in a sexual way. Daniel had tried to sink under the table at this point while Luc had merely looked proud and smirked at his guests, squeezing Daniel’s knee. “Did you really go upstairs and wank over me?” he whispered in Luc’s ear. Luc’s arm tightened around him and he held Daniel closer, their hands joined between their chests. “Of course, mon amour. Aren’t you worth wanking over?” “Yes, but…is that why the hors d’oeuvres were so late?” “Oui.” “You’re so bad.” “I know.” “God, when you took me into that kitchen… I thought I would explode as soon as you touched me.” He remembered being face-first over the cold workbench, Luc down between his legs, sucking and licking. Luc smiled fondly. “I enjoyed the chase, Danny.” “Me too,” Daniel admitted. “Was the prize at the end worth it?”

Scarlet Blackwell

“Oh, yes.” Luc’s grin broadened, his teeth perfect. “I can’t wait ’til later.” Daniel groaned. “Me neither.” “Come on, it’s my turn.” Yvette cut in between them impatiently. “I want to dance with your gorgeous husband, Luc. There are no nice women here. I’m thinking of going straight.” Luc laughed and relinquished Daniel to his cousin, who was taller than him and amusingly took the lead, sweeping Daniel around the dance floor as the quartet finished and the evening band started to play Kate Bush’s “Wuthering Heights” complete with ear-splitting vocals. Luc sent a wicked smirk Daniel’s way. The song had been a late request from Luc after finding out Daniel’s middle name during the ceremony. Daniel glowered at him.

Luc retreated out of the marquee, which was being slowly cleared by waiting staff to make way for the evening function at which more people were expected to arrive. A late evening sun shone low on the horizon. A few children chased Daniel’s dog Henri across the grounds. Lights shone, strung through the trees. Luc sat on the hill alone and meditated. What a lucky man he was. He had pots of money, a successful business, a lovely home, a little rat as a pet and a husband who, while he seemed to often teeter on the edge of a nervous breakdown, was the most vibrant, loving, wonderful man Luc had ever met. He sighed and smiled as he thought of possessing Daniel’s exquisite body later that night. God, that never grew old. There was never a second of the day when he didn’t want Daniel. If it were up to him, he’d go back inside, throw Daniel over the nearest table and fuck him senseless with a cheering audience behind him. He was hard now and desperate. Perhaps they could just sneak away for a few minutes. Just a quick mutual handjob to tide him over before he came his brains out right here just from thinking of fucking Daniel later. He stood, adjusting his pants, and went back to the marquee just as Daniel came out. “There you are.” “Here I am.” Luc fondled one firm buttock possessively. “Let me suck your cock.” “What?” “I need you. I’m desperate.” “It’ll have to wait, Luc.” “It can’t,” Luc pleaded. “I’m going to go insane. Just let me touch you. I beg you.” Daniel looked around anxiously. He took Luc by the hand and set off behind the marquee. The blood pounded in Luc’s veins with excitement as Daniel led him down into the fruit orchard. “Mon Dieu.” He pushed Daniel against the nearest tree as soon as they were within the enclosure, kissing him and fumbling at his pants. He soon had Daniel free and his husband was just as hard for him. Luc sank to his knees and took Daniel in his mouth.

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The Last Supper

Daniel groaned, head back, hands gripping Luc’s short hair, and Luc unfastened himself and started to jerk off. He moaned around Daniel’s cock, pumping the shaft with one hand while he pleasured himself with the other. It was enough, it was just enough, even if he had to fight with himself not to turn Daniel to the tree and slide into his tight heat. He gasped, drawing back so he didn’t bite Daniel as he came, bucking into his own hand, grunting and groaning loudly. Daniel whimpered in pleasure, watching. He pulled Luc to his feet and kissed him, and Luc jerked him off with tight, fast fingers. “Luc…” Daniel moaned. Luc pulled him away from the tree. Behind them was a fallen log. He shoved a protesting Daniel over it face-first and pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees. Then he got on his knees, spread Daniel’s perfect cheeks open and set about him with his tongue. Daniel cried out, trying to squirm away. “Don’t, don’t, oh God…” Luc ignored him, holding him firmly, licking the tight little entrance, feeling how it pulsed and contracted with each wet stroke. Daniel went crazy. “Luc, Luc…fuck me, please, fuck me.” Luc lifted his head. “I can’t,” he said regretfully. “Let’s save that.” Instead he moistened two fingers and worked them into Daniel, stroking his prostate carefully until Daniel exploded with a cry that scared the birds out of the trees. Mouth down between Daniel’s legs, Luc caught the semen, swallowing, licking, sucking until Daniel collapsed on the log and slithered, spent, to the ground, leaves and twigs in his hair. Amused, Luc sat and cradled his husband in his arms.

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Chapter Fourteen

The evening was in full swing when they walked hand-in-hand back over the lawn. Guests were dancing in front of the marquee, the music was loud and the wine was flowing. “I’m going to clean up and brush my teeth.” “Okay.” Luc kissed Daniel on the cheek and set off toward the restaurant. Daniel turned around hurriedly and set off in the opposite direction when he saw his mother purposefully approaching him, face flushed with wine. “Daniel, Daniel, don’t run away from me.” Daniel sighed, stopped and turned to face the music. Mrs. Sheridan’s funereal black dress had dried in a stiff, crinkled ruin and her hat was long since lost. She had smears of cake on the diamonds in her earlobes and around one nostril. Her mascara was smudged. Daniel had never seen his mother looking so unkempt, but, remarkably, she didn’t seem to care. “Daniel,” she addressed him. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.” Daniel stared, then closed his gaping mouth and became suspicious. “If I knew gay weddings were like this, I’d go to one every week.” Daniel remained silent and wary. She sighed, turned her face up a moment to regard the sunset, then said, “I still love you, Daniel. You’re still my son, even though I said you weren’t. And although your husband’s a French idiot who will probably run off with the first available piece of arse, I wish you well.” Daniel didn’t know what to say. He supposed it was as close to an apology as his mother would ever get. He had always thought his mother had never loved him, though. Not even when she thought he was straight. “You need to apologise to my idiot husband,” he said stiffly. “When you stayed with us in London, you were a horror and he didn’t deserve it.” His mother swallowed. She started to cry. “You both deceived me. You pretended all this time you were normal and instead you and he…” “I am normal.” Daniel’s voice was glacial. “I know, I know, I didn’t mean…I just need some time. I love you, Daniel.” She sobbed dramatically. Daniel sighed and then put an arm around her. She clung to him, weeping against his chest. He remembered her familiar scent from childhood. Chanel No. 5 and Oil of Olay. He closed his eyes. “I never

The Last Supper

wanted to deceive you. I wanted to come to you. I wanted to share this terrible secret with someone, but I knew you’d never understand.” “I’m sorry. My poor boy. I’m so sorry.” His mother wept even harder. Over her shoulder, Daniel saw Luc standing, staring in disbelief at the family reunion. “Mother,” he said, “do you know what my father keeps in his briefcase?” “Yes,” she replied, drawing back and wiping at her eyes. “But I can’t tell you.” Luc approached, and she turned to look at him warily. “Luc, you’re my son-in-law now and there’s nothing much I can do about that. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” “Very well,” Luc said graciously. “But if you break my son’s heart, I’ll break your balls, do you understand?” “Perfectly.” “Good. Now, what say we get a drink?” Luc looked at Daniel in amazement as Mrs. Sheridan linked both their arms and led them into the marquee. Inside it seemed the Sheridans had made up with the whole Tessier family. Messieurs Sheridan and Tessier were sharing Luc’s secret bottle of two hundred-year-old cognac. The very cognac he’d used to seduce Daniel on the night they met. Madame Tessier spotted the three of them and urged them over, pulling out a chair for Mrs. Sheridan and asking her where she got her hair done. Daniel wasn’t sure if Luc’s mother was being sarcastic, seeing as at the moment his mother’s hair looked like it had been done by the local council, but he said nothing. Luc’s mother hugged Daniel. She told him how dashing he’d looked in his morning suit and hoped the stains came out of it so he could keep it for posterity. Daniel settled uncomfortably next to her and accepted a glass of champagne. He decided it would be his last because, while he’d never had a problem with impotence after alcohol, the way this day was going, tonight a limp cock would make its debut and ruin his wedding night. He glanced at Luc, who was clinking his glass against his father’s and Daniel’s father’s, and knew that no matter how much alcohol Luc drank, he would never fail to get it up for him. He smiled to himself. Even the time Luc drank twelve pints of strong lager and could barely stand, he had still managed to fuck Daniel until he almost passed out. Luc smiled back and lifted his glass. As always, he read Daniel’s thoughts. He moved across to squeeze between his mother and Daniel. “What say we retire?” he whispered. Daniel turned his head. “Now? It’s early.” “And we have to be at the airport by eleven in the morning. And I plan to keep you up all night.” Luc rubbed his nose slowly against Daniel’s. “In that case…” They kissed slowly and softly and, for the first time ever, Daniel didn’t think about people watching him.

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Luc got to his feet and held his hand out to Daniel. “We’re going to our hotel now,” he addressed both sets of parents. “Please feel free to carry on until the police come and close the party down.” Hugs and kisses were exchanged. Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan were effusive toward them both. “Bring Luc to the house when you get back from honeymoon,” Daniel’s mother told him, astonishing him yet again and, screwing her eyes up tight as though he had the plague, she stood on tiptoe and kissed Luc’s cheek. Luc hurried out into the night, pulling Daniel after him. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he announced.

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Chapter Fifteen

The rounds of guests and thank yous had taken a good half an hour before Luc and Daniel made it into their limo and across Paris to their hotel. Luc hadn’t seen the bridal suite at the Four Seasons hotel prior to them checking in other than at their website. He had left Yvette a list of instructions and trusted her to act appropriately. He and Daniel held hands in the lift to the eighth floor, grinning drunkenly at each other, ignoring the elderly man in the corner who regarded them with distaste and the two young women who regarded them with tongues hanging out. Luc opened the door, then turned and swung Daniel up into his arms, carrying him over the threshold. Daniel laughed in delight. Luc carried him through the suite. The suite, with its period furnishings and décor of gold, white and ivory, was done out in balloons and banners, flowers covering every surface, ice buckets with champagne standing on both bedside tables. In a corner curled up in a basket fast asleep was Henri, still wearing his tuxedo. Luc put Daniel down. “Go out on the terrace.” Daniel did as he was told, opening the doors for the stunning view of the Eiffel Tower. He turned around. “Oh, Luc, you’ve taken me to some nice hotels before, but…” Luc smiled. He took Daniel’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. For a moment they stood looking at each other before Luc trailed his fingertips lightly down Daniel’s cheek. Now this moment had come, he felt nervous. He was almost afraid to touch his husband. “You’re so beautiful,” he said in a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.” Daniel fell into his arms with a moan of need. They kissed passionately, desperately. Luc walked Daniel backward to the bed and pushed him down. He knelt over him, unfastening his tie, sliding it off, taking his time. Daniel kept his eyes fixed on Luc’s face as he helped him shrug his jacket off before Luc started on the buttons of Daniel’s shirt. He kissed the exposed skin as it was revealed, sliding down Daniel’s chiselled torso to his stomach. A light brush over his groin told Luc that Daniel was hard for him. His stomach turned in somersaults of delighted expectation. He sat back on his heels and assisted Daniel to shed his shirt, then he started on Daniel’s belt. Daniel was breathless, flushed, watching Luc’s hand pull open his button and slide down his zip. He gasped softly as Luc reached inside and touched him, fingertips caressing his shaft through the thin material

Scarlet Blackwell

of his boxers. Luc pulled Daniel’s open pants apart. He mouthed his cock through his boxers, teasing with his tongue, leaving them damp. Daniel cursed under his breath. He kicked his shoes off with two loud thuds. Luc lifted his head. He slid down the bed to pull Daniel’s socks off and then followed that up by helping Daniel shed his pants and boxers. His husband lay there naked beneath him, and Luc took his time to look with hungry eyes. “Mon amour…” Words failed him. “Strip for me,” Daniel said in an urgent whisper. Luc did as he was told. He climbed off the bed and took off his shoes and socks. Then he started a private, sensual striptease for his new husband. Daniel watched him with huge eyes as Luc slid his jacket from his shoulders and started on his tie, taking his time, swinging his hips, dancing to imaginary music. Never had he found it so erotic to strip before, but Daniel’s reactions made it worthwhile. He writhed a little on the bed, touching his chest with one hand while his other slipped between his legs, fondling his balls and stroking his cock as he watched Luc. Luc stared at him, his cock throbbing as he pulled off his tie and started to open his shirt. He pulled off his shirt and swung it around his head before he threw it away, and Daniel laughed. Luc started on his pants, taking so long about drawing the zip down that Daniel started to moan with impatience. “Come on, let me see.” Luc smirked. “In time.” He let his pants fall to his ankles and kicked them off, then he turned to Daniel and shook his arse, pulling his boxers down so Daniel could see the ripe cheeks. “Oh God, Luc, you’ve got such an amazing arse.” Daniel’s voice was husky with desire. “I know.” Luc peeled his boxers off and bent over, pushing his hard cock back between his legs. Daniel launched himself off the bed quick as a flash. He dropped to his knees behind Luc, sucking desperately. Luc groaned. Daniel’s hands massaged and squeezed his buttocks, one thumb delving into the cleft to stroke his entrance, while he started to tongue Luc’s balls. Luc’s legs quivered. He turned around, shuffling to the bed to brace himself on it with his hands while Daniel was still attached to his intimate parts. The thumb was opening him up surely. Never had Luc felt more of a need to have Daniel inside him than tonight. He ached with it. Where was the lube? He cast his eyes to his jacket, then out to the living room to the suitcases which stood near one couch. He couldn’t think straight, Daniel’s mouth around the head of his cock, suckling gently. But it seemed Daniel read his mind, because he got up, hurrying out into the living room, going to one of the suitcases and laying it flat before unzipping it. Luc sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Daniel scrabbled about inside it before finding the necessary supplies.

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Luc would have made do with saliva, such was his need, but Daniel was always practical. He didn’t like anybody getting hurt. Luc grabbed him by the hand as he came back and pulled him out through the open terrace doors. He leaned against the railing, looking out over the brightly-lit city. “Fuck me.” Daniel laughed. He tore open a condom packet with his teeth. “You’re crazy. If anyone looks up here, we’ll get arrested, and I don’t want to spend my wedding night as a guest of the Sûreté.” “I couldn’t give a shit.” Luc bent forward, feet apart. “Take me, Danny, please.” Daniel growled in excitement. Wet fingers perfunctorily rubbed his entrance and then hard flesh pressed between Luc’s buttocks, filling him so full that Luc cried out. He clutched the railings with white knuckles and stared at the Eiffel tower as his husband held him firmly around the torso with one arm and made love to him. Wedding nights didn’t come any better than this, he decided. Being fucked under the shadow of the Eiffel tower, in Paris, by the man of his dreams? No, that was the stuff of fantasies, and Luc was living it. He clung to the railings, pushing back against Daniel, moaning with each thrust, Daniel’s hand between his legs, stroking his cock. Daniel’s mouth found Luc’s ear. He breathed heavily into it. “I love you, Luc. I love you so much.” Luc whimpered and gasped. “Never leave me, Danny, promise me you’ll never leave.” “Never,” Daniel affirmed, panting. “This is forever.” Luc came explosively, bucking and shouting, his semen flying through the railings and into the Paris night air. Daniel’s hand continued to milk every drop from him, and Luc pushed back eagerly on him as Daniel gave several more thrusts before he was done. He collapsed, groaning against Luc’s back, holding him tight, and Luc, bent over the balcony, looked down and saw a crowd of people gathered on the street below, staring up. He lifted a hand, waved and smiled. Better not to let Daniel see. He eased himself away and took Daniel’s hand, grabbing the lube and box of condoms from the ground before leading him back inside. Daniel went to use the bathroom and Luc stretched out on the king-size bed and lay with a silly grin plastered all over his face. He was so happy he thought he might burst. Daniel came out of the bathroom. He dived onto Luc. As Luc caught him in his arms, there was a loud bang and the bed rocked. Luc and Daniel shrieked, holding on to each other. Clouds of smoke filled the air along with glitter and streamers. When they moved again, there was another explosion. The bed shook violently. Henri started to bark loudly. A lazy, pink banner floated over their heads, bedecked with scarlet letters. Enjoy your wedding night, boys. Love, Augustin. “Putin!” Luc growled with a clenched fist. “That bastard booby-traps my bed on my wedding night.” Daniel fell back laughing. “Oh my God, this has been the best day ever. I never thought marrying you would be such fun.”

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Luc grinned. He pulled Daniel on top of him. “Perhaps we still need to have words, though, over you destroying the cake I spent two weeks on.” Daniel looked contrite. “Punish me, then.” A wicked smirk quirked his sensual mouth. Quick as a flash, Luc twisted their bodies around so Daniel was lying over his lap. He slapped one buttock hard. “Hey!” “That’s for the cake.” He slapped again. “That’s for your mother falling in the fountain.” Another slap. “And that’s for…it’s for good luck.” Daniel squirmed. Another explosion rocked the bed. “Mon Dieu.” Luc threw Daniel onto his back. He pushed his husband’s legs apart and sank between them, glitter twinkling in Daniel’s neat pubic hair as Luc got to grips with his hardening cock. Daniel grabbed Luc’s hair. He coughed as streamers landed in his face while Luc sucked him off. “Oh God, let’s go all night. I can’t get enough of you.” Luc lifted his head and grinned. Despite the fact he’d felt like death warmed up this morning, now he was renewed and invigorated, sleeping the furthest thing from his mind. He was toweringly hard once more. “I’m going to make you come until you beg me to stop,” he declared, then he threw himself onto his back and dragged Daniel backward on top of him. Daniel on his face was the best thing ever. Luc sucked him down while Daniel obliged at the other end, hot, wet mouth around Luc’s cock. With his hands on Daniel’s hips, Luc urged his husband to fuck his mouth, taking him as far down as he could, sucking greedily. Daniel squirmed and writhed on him, panting hard around Luc’s cock. Luc drew back. He mouthed Daniel’s balls while feeling around on the bed for the lube. Daniel groaned, his mouth on Luc’s inner thigh, dropping hot kisses. Luc found the lube and squirted some on his fingers. His index finger delved between Daniel’s ripe cheeks, stroking while he licked at the balls over his face. Daniel was perfectly waxed, not a hair out of place, which Luc had noticed earlier in the fruit orchard. It drove Luc crazy. He pulled Daniel further onto him with both hands spreading him open. “Sit on my face, Danny.” Daniel almost squealed as Luc’s masterful tongue commenced work. He ground himself down, almost suffocating a delighted Luc. Daniel tried his best to continue to pleasure Luc simultaneously, but his current position was too much for him. His face fell against Luc’s thigh and he groaned and moaned with every stroke of Luc’s tongue. Luc didn’t mind. He would get off soon enough just from tonguing Daniel’s delicious arse. He drew back briefly, fondling Daniel’s cock. “Want me to make you come?” “Oh God, yes Luc, yes…” Daniel begged.

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Luc smiled and went back to his task. His tongue wet Daniel thoroughly, opened him up, made him shudder and squirm and all those other things Luc loved. He heard a tearing sound suddenly and a moment later felt the unmistakable touch of latex on his cock. Oh God, Daniel was rolling a condom on him. Luc’s tongue sped up with anticipation. He gripped Daniel hard, holding his almost convulsing partner still as he drove him relentlessly to orgasm. Daniel cried out. He pressed down, taking Luc’s tongue inside him, jerking himself off as thick streams of semen spurted over Luc’s chest. Luc held him still until Daniel had finished rocking on him and then, before he could even catch his breath, Daniel had moved down his body without turning around and sank down on Luc’s cock. “Mon Dieu.” Luc gave a strangled sound of ecstasy. He held Daniel as he shuffled back to sit up against the bed head. He looked at the perfect curves of his lover’s naked body as he smoothed his hands down them. Daniel started to ride him hard, panting breathlessly. Luc put a hand around him and found him, impossibly, still hard. “Make me come again,” Daniel moaned. “Please, Luc.” Luc nipped him on the neck. “Insatiable,” he said fondly and proudly. He put his arms around Daniel and thrust up into him. Daniel leaned back on his shoulder, face turned so their lips could meet. Luc was close within minutes. His hand jerked Daniel off fiercely and his lover rode him tirelessly, his thighs trembling, his muscles tightening deliciously around Luc. Daniel cursed and cried out. Luc’s hands stilled him suddenly. “Turn around. I need to see your face.” Daniel did as he was told, turning around on Luc’s lap carefully without losing their contact. Luc gripped him by the hips and pulled him forward against his chest, kissing him hard. Daniel’s hands rested on his shoulders, his cock pressed into Luc’s chest. Luc’s lips found his neck, trailed down his chest to latch onto one nipple, sucking. Daniel moaned, bucking against him, crying Luc’s name. “Don’t stop, don’t stop. Oh God, Luc, I love you.” The bed rocked with an explosion as Luc came, his hands tightening fiercely on his husband as he rode out the waves of the orgasm. Daniel spurted over his chest seconds later, collapsing against him, gasping. “God, you’re amazing,” Luc said, pressing kisses to Daniel’s neck. Daniel laughed. “No, you’re amazing.” Luc slid down the bed, taking Daniel with him, holding him close. “My wonderful Danny,” he purred. “How I adore you. You have five minutes to recover before we go again.”

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Chapter Sixteen

Luc opened his eyes slowly and yawned, stretching. By his side lay his husband, his mouth slightly open, dead to the world. Luc wasn’t sure how he hadn’t killed Daniel last night with his excessive sexual demands, but Daniel had been more than equal to the challenge. They’d done it all over the suite and the bed had continued to rock with further explosions that seemed to match their passion perfectly. Damn Augustin to hell. But Luc couldn’t help but smile at the booby-trapping because it had been quite funny. How they hadn’t had the manager banging on the door with the noise coming from their room he’d no idea. What was he going to do about Augustin anyway? He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his best friend, no matter what he had tried to do. Perhaps, if Augustin were sorry, Luc could make it up with him. Best not to raise the subject with Daniel just yet. Luc trailed a fingertip down Daniel’s cheek, smiling fondly. He remembered peering through the serving hatch on that first night he met Daniel, deciding right then and there that he had to win Daniel’s body at all costs, no matter what. He had decided very soon after winning that prize that he needed to follow it up with Daniel’s heart. Winning that grand trophy was a lengthy affair but so, so worth it. With a ring on his finger, Luc could finally say he had won the sweet battle for Daniel’s heart. Forever. He leaned down and pressed his lips to his sleeping husband’s. Daniel stirred but did not awake. There was a sudden knock at the door and Henri barked. Luc slid quickly from the bed and pulled on a robe. There was a waiter at the door with breakfast, and Luc bade him push the trolley in, going back into the bedroom to search in his discarded pants on the floor for a tip. When the man had gone, Luc poured himself some coffee and sat with the newspaper. There it was on the front page of Le Figaro. A bedraggled, cake-covered Luc and Daniel lying sprawled on the lawn of the restaurant, kissing passionately. Luc grinned to himself. What a perfect wedding photo. A brush of fur against his bare ankle made him look down. Daniel’s dog sat looking up at him with huge, imploring eyes, still wearing his little tuxedo from yesterday. Luc’s heart softened. The little rat really was quite adorable. He scooped Henri up and rested him on his lap while he fed him bites of toast. Henri was enthusiastic. He stood on hind legs and licked Luc’s face.

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Luc protested in French, laughing. He put a plate of scrambled eggs down for the dog and watched fondly while Henri ate. He finished his coffee, poured Daniel a cup and took it and the newspaper with him back into the bedroom, putting them both on the bedside table. He lifted the thick quilt and climbed into the bed from the bottom, starting at one ankle and trailing kisses slowly up the body of his husband. Daniel stirred. He muttered something under his breath and stretched, rolling onto his back as Luc made it to his thigh, hands sliding up Daniel’s torso. Daniel groaned. His hand tangled in Luc’s hair as Luc found his thickening cock and licked the head a couple of times. He slid up above the quilt, looking down at Daniel. “Bonjour, Monsieur Tessier.” Daniel grinned. He put his arms around Luc’s neck. “Bonjour, mon mari. Je t’aime.” They shared a long, lingering kiss. Daniel opened his legs around Luc’s, lifting his pelvis, making his need plain. “Would you like to join me in the shower?” Luc asked, hand stroking Daniel’s cheek. Daniel smiled. “Yes.” Luc slid away. “Don’t be long.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

Daniel followed his husband’s naked figure with lustful eyes. He sank back into the bed, grinning like an idiot to himself. God, it had really happened. He’d woken up as Mr. Tessier today despite everything conspiring against them both yesterday. He was also, somehow, reconciled with his mother. He noticed the coffee on the bedside table and reached out for a drink, stopping as he did when he caught sight of the newspaper. Oh God. He rested the paper on his chest, looking at the photo. He started to laugh loudly. “What are you laughing at, Danny?” Luc called, his voice echoing off the white marble in the bathroom. “Hurry up, I’ve got something for you.” Daniel tossed the paper aside, took a swallow of his coffee and scrambled from the bed. “I’m here, mon amour,” he said as he waded through clouds of steam to fall into his husband’s arms.

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About the Author

Scarlet likes cats and hats and firmly believes that the only thing better than one attractive man is two attractive men. You can find her at http://scarletblackwell.com/default.aspx and email her at [email protected].

Look for these titles by Scarlet Blackwell

Now Available: Life Class Table for Two Just Desserts Second Helpings

Compromise is not a dirty word.

Second Helpings © 2010 Scarlet Blackwell Table for Two, Book 2 French chef Luc Tessier once thought his world-class cooking skills—and cleaver-sharp ability to strike sexual sparks—had won him the ultimate prize. The heart of his beautiful English boyfriend, food critic Daniel Sheridan. Little did he know the battle had only just begun. And now his most formidable foe has just shown up on their doorstep. Daniel’s mother. With Daniel still firmly in the closet and determined to stay, the chance that Luc will get laid any time soon is deflating faster than a failed soufflé. Daniel has learned to deal with Luc’s natural arrogance and domineering tendencies. What he can’t handle are the repercussions, real and imagined, of coming out before he’s ready. Hence his nightmare task of juggling his nosy mother and his horny lover under the same roof. Seven days is a long time for anyone to be on his best behaviour, much less a Frenchman who’s only a touch away from one desperate goal—his lover’s bed. But getting what he wants could come at too great a cost. Daniel’s trust. Warning: Take one hot French chef and mix thoroughly with his even hotter English partner. Season well with ego, frustration and denial. Add a liberal dash of mother-in-law and watch the sparks fly.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Second Helpings: “Don’t stop!” “The phone’s ringing. It’s putting me off my stroke.” “The machine’ll get it, just…” Daniel Sheridan groaned, arms flung above his head, hands clinging to the wrought iron headboard as it banged against the wall. His naked chiselled body shone with a light dewing of sweat, his cock leaking over his belly. “Please…I’m going to come…” Luc Tessier growled and redoubled his pace, biting at Daniel’s throat, leaving marks. From the living room came a click and Daniel’s clipped English accent asked the caller to leave a message after the tone. “Daniel, it’s your mother, I’m coming to stay on Saturday. Perhaps for a week or maybe longer, depending. Why are you so busy that you never pick up your phone? Call me back please.” Daniel gave a howl somewhere between horror and ecstasy, he wasn’t sure, and came over himself in long spurts, his body bucking beneath Luc’s. But Luc was already pulling free. “Merde. I lost my hard-on.” He fell onto his back by Daniel’s side, panting.

Daniel turned his head to look at him, his chest heaving, glistening with his own fluid. “I’m sorry.” There was nothing nice about sex with Luc being interrupted, even if Daniel had come. “Peu importe.” Luc shrugged, pulling off his condom. “I have to meet the in-laws sooner or later.” Daniel bit his lip. He was silent a long moment. Shit. Was this moment really here? God, he’d tried his hardest to bury this problem as deep as it would go. Finally he rolled over so he was half on top of Luc, one hand stroking his chest in a placating gesture, ready for the explosion which was to come. “No, you don’t understand. She doesn’t know I’m gay.” Luc raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Why not?” “She’s a good Catholic, she wouldn’t understand.” Luc snorted. “So’s my mother, but she lives with it. I told her at sixteen, ‘Maman, I like cock. Deal with it or don’t’.” “My mother won’t deal with it. She’ll just disown me. And my father’ll have me killed or something. I don’t know what he does for a living, but I think he’s a spy. He carries around a locked briefcase. It might contain a gun.” Daniel had a vivid imagination from his earliest childhood. Luc rolled his eyes. He shifted to the edge of the bed, reached for boxers and stood to put them on. “I’m not getting involved in your family disputes and your double life. I didn’t sign up for this.” Daniel sat up, furious, as always easily riled by his partner. “Oh?” he asked glacially. “What did you sign up for then, Luc?” Luc turned to look at him and those silver-grey eyes were shuttered. When he didn’t want to let Daniel in, there was nothing Daniel could do to reach him. It made for a tempestuous relationship which, at any moment, seemed likely to spontaneously combust. “You on your back four times a week,” he said arrogantly. “Or more if you let me.” “You’re an arsehole,” Daniel told him. “Get out. I don’t want you here. Come back when you’ve finished being a twat.” Luc glared at him, pulling his pants up. “Whatever,” he said. “I’ve got an engagement anyway. Maybe the food critic I’m meeting will be interested in finishing what you started. You know how much food critics turn me on.” He took his shirt and walked across the room, and Daniel hurled a glass from the bedside table which shattered explosively against the doorframe near Luc’s head. Luc stopped and turned around with a deadly look on his face, and for a moment Daniel was afraid. Not that Luc had ever raised a hand to him during their often physical arguments. The most he would ever do would be to wrestle Daniel to the nearest horizontal or vertical surface and fuck that anger right out of him. No, what Daniel was afraid of was that one day he’d go too far and Luc would end their relationship. Luc carried on his way. Footsteps sounded down the hallway before the door closed and silence descended.

Luc sat in a cab making its way across London and stewed in guilt. He’d been wrong. It wasn’t the first time he’d put ideas in Daniel’s head about going to find another, less…challenging man, and it shamed him every time he did it. The truth was Luc had been completely faithful for six months, not even bowing to Guillaume and Raoul at the restaurant when they came begging for it. He didn’t need to look around for cheap thrills when Daniel satisfied all his needs. As Paul Newman once said, why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home? Luc would have preferred that the saying be a vegetarian one but he wasn’t sure that “why go out for carrots when you have asparagus at home” really cut it. Either way, he wasn’t interested in anyone else. What could anyone else give him that Daniel couldn’t? Well maybe a less complicated life, for a start. Daniel wasn’t out to anyone, never mind his parents. The amount of deception Luc had to suffer and having to keep his hands off Daniel in public gave him a headache. He despised Daniel’s choice and saw him as weak for not wearing his sexuality with pride. Once, in the heat of the moment, he had thrown something terrible at Daniel. He had said that if he’d known Daniel wasn’t out before they had got together, he wouldn’t have bothered. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but the damage had been done. Daniel had collected his things from Luc’s penthouse Paris apartment and was on the first flight back to London. It had taken Luc two weeks to persuade him to come back. He regretted many things about his dealings with Daniel. Sometimes he was thoughtless and cruel, and he understood why his words wound Daniel up into a frenzy. The pair of them were too much alike, that was the trouble. Both hot-headed and impulsive. It made for great make-up sex. Luc smiled to himself ruefully because he fully intended to have that great make-up sex that evening.

Daniel lay curled beneath the covers, seething. That bastard. Why did Luc have to consistently act like he didn’t give a fuck about him? Why was he so impatient and dismissive of Daniel’s in-the-closet status? Sometimes it felt like they weren’t even in a relationship, despite living together, dividing their time between Paris and London. Perhaps Luc would even deny that they were if someone asked him. Perhaps he would say Daniel was his fuck-buddy or some such thing. It wasn’t the first time the dreaded thought, I should get rid of him, came into Daniel’s head, and once there, it set up shop, whispering at him. He’s no good for me. As always, pain knifed through his heart at the idea of leaving Luc, because Daniel was as smitten as he had been from the very start. They had hated each other’s guts, of course, when they first met. Daniel the food critic who ripped Luc apart in the press, Luc the chef who had invited him to his restaurant in order to shut him up once and

for all. Shut him up he did, after taking Daniel facedown over his work bench in the most exciting encounter Daniel had ever had in his life. After that Luc had pursued him relentlessly until Daniel had given in. Suddenly his diatribes against Luc stopped, and professional colleagues asked him why he had started to write nice things about the French chef he had once rated so poorly. It was amazing how blind a little love could make you. Hadn’t he once thought Luc’s cooking terribly poor and the man himself arrogant, self-opinionated and with no social skills at all to speak of? What had changed apart from Daniel now being more sexually satisfied than he’d ever been in his life? Didn’t he still hold these opinions on Luc secretly? Perhaps not the cooking, because Luc cooked for Daniel every day and Daniel had no complaints about the standard, but certainly he had been right from the off about Luc’s personality traits. The thing was, if you loved someone, you dealt with their foibles and weaknesses, and Luc had many. He made up for these with his generosity, his tenderness, his passion and sense of humour. When he wasn’t being an arsehole, he knew how to treat Daniel just right, in and out of bed. It was just that sometimes this tenderness could be a long time coming. Sometimes it didn’t show itself until after a fight or Daniel threatening to walk out. Perhaps a little of that hate that had brought them both together had carried over into this relationship and still burned strong.

There’s no escaping the man at the heart of his memories.

The Trap © 2010 Indigo Wren Three years ago, David and his college roommate, Ethan, were on the brink of unimaginable success, ready to revolutionize an industry and reap billions. Then David accidentally revealed the attraction he’d never wanted to feel, and certainly never meant Ethan to see. Mortified, he ran from everything that mattered—the fledgling company he’d helped to build, the bright future he’d worked to secure, and the man he couldn’t let himself want. Now he’s built a new life for himself. So what if it’s not the one he hoped for? He’s learned to look only forward, and not to envy the success Ethan achieved without him. He’s even learned to cope with the nightmares. The panic attacks. The failed relationships with women. When an opportunity arises to enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime getaway to a private island resort, David never suspects a trap is about to be sprung. One where he’ll be forced to face the truths from which he’s been hiding—and the man from whom he’s never stopped running. Warning: This book contains erotic waffles, sexual math, blatant ABBA worship, kidnapping, nude napping, dog-napping, journal hijacking, betrayal, redemption, and red-hot man love so poignant and passionate, you won’t know whether to say “awwwwwww” or “oooooohhh!”

Enjoy the following excerpt for The Trap: Heart pounding, David retreated from the unmistakable intent in the other man’s eyes, bending and straightening each knee mechanically, digging his heels into the sand and kicking backwards on autopilot until he felt his back come up against something hard and unyielding. A tree, he realized dimly. Nowhere to go. Reaching the perimeter of the shade, Ethan dropped to his knees. Slinging his wet shirt over one shoulder, he fell forward onto the backs of his hands, leaning on long, strong arms and arching his back just slightly as he crawled toward David, graceful as a leopard slinking through tall grass toward its prey. Hypnotized, David watched him approach, his left knee still drawn up to his chest. “Ethan. Don’t.” His voice cracked a little. “Seriously.” “Seriously, don’t what?” Ethan’s voice was liquid, wicked innocence. David drew his other knee up so that his legs formed a bony barrier between himself and the other man. It felt ridiculously inadequate. “Don’t whatever you’re thinking of.” “But, Davo. What I’m thinking of is so interesting.” Ethan hooked one arm easily under David’s bent legs and pulled hard. With a startled cry, David felt himself slide down onto his back into the cool sand, his

legs pushing out straight as he tried to right himself, twisting to seek some purchase in the slick sand with his elbows. In a flash, Ethan had straddled David’s legs and was crouched over him, the wet denim of his thighs pressed tightly to either side of David’s hips. David bucked and twisted, but couldn’t unseat the larger man. One flailing wrist knocked against a half-finished can of beer—his? Ethan’s? —and he heard the sound of liquid gurgling out onto the thirsty ground. “Don’t worry.” Ethan ignored David’s wriggling and reached out with a long arm to pluck the can up before it had completely emptied. “I’ve got it.” He twisted the can down into the sand by his thigh so that it was within easy reach. Then he slid his hands up under the edge of David’s T-shirt, finding the soft, quivering skin of his bare stomach and sides and stroking it with knowing thumbs. At his mere touch, David’s whole body jerked involuntarily and his chin lifted, his head pressing back into sand. “Damn it, Ethan,” he exhaled on a tremulous breath. His hands found Ethan’s forearms, pushed at them weakly. “Hang on. Let’s talk about this.” “The problem with drink,” quoted Ethan, plucking up the beer can with one hand while using the other to push David’s shirt up higher, exposing his midriff, “is that it makes men mistake words for thought.” Using one arm to block David’s protesting hands, he tipped the can slowly over David’s exposed skin, let the golden, sticky liquid pool in his belly button and the hollow of his stomach. The beer was still cold and fizzy, and David gasped at the sensation: icy, crackling, electric. “That’s according to Samuel Johnson, of course.” Ethan leaned down over David’s quivering stomach. “And Hemmingway tells us to always do when we’re sober what we said we’d do when we were drunk…because that way, we’ll learn to keep our mouths shut.” His lips closed over the little puddle of beer, his tongue sliding tantalizingly over the skin just above David’s waistband before dipping suddenly, shockingly, into his belly button. David gasped and arched his back. Jesus. “Christ, you taste good.” Ethan’s tongue swept over David’s shivering skin in long, fiery strokes. David writhed a little beneath the other man’s insistent ministrations. “Well, damn it, that’s not exactly an accomplishment, considering that you keep pouring food on me!” Ethan tipped his forehead onto David’s stomach and laughed, his shoulders shaking. Then he returned his mouth to David’s belly, and continued to suck and stroke and bite gently at him, sliding the shirt ever higher as his fingers danced over bare skin, sending little electric shocks wherever they touched. His lips closed on each nipple in turn, flicking and tonguing and sucking at the sensitive buds until David’s knees drew up of their own accord, his legs spreading slightly and his heels pressing hard into the sand, lifting his hips unconsciously.

Damn it. Once again, his cock was wide awake and throbbing almost painfully inside pants that seemed suddenly much too tight. If he could just get away somewhere and release some of this pressure, he’d be all right. But there was no getting away from the pressure, no getting away from Ethan’s roving hands, his knowing fingers, his warm, wet mouth. David’s hands beat weakly at Ethan’s shoulders, pausing, suddenly nerveless, whenever a new sensation paralyzed him. When Ethan’s lips and tongue found the ridge of his collarbone, the hollow at the base of his throat, and began to suckle him there, David gave a whimper that sounded to his own ears like half ecstasy, half exasperation. He tried to choke it off as soon as he birthed it, his hands stilling for a moment in Ethan’s soft, damp hair. “No, Davo.” Ethan’s voice was assuring and amused. “That’s a good thing. Let it out.” His fingers tented lightly on David’s sides high up under his arms now, his thumbs stroking the quivering skin at the junction of arms and chest and then stretching to brush first one and then the other saliva-glistened nipple with a dizzying, feather touch. “For this exercise, little animal noises are not only permitted, but encouraged.” David sucked in air and writhed. “God, where’s the damn dog when I need her? The one with special dispensation to bite you?” “I had to send her away. I thought you’d be…nervous…with an audience.” Ethan laughed gently against the corner of David’s mouth, his lips so close now to David’s own, so close. David turned his head slightly away. “That’s…just…that’s stupid. There’s nothing to see. And nothing to be nervous of. About. For. Whatever. I’m not…not afraid of you.” “Really? You’re not the slightest…bit…afraid…of this?” One finger curled around David’s chin and tugged his jaw gently back around. Helplessly, David stared into Ethan’s eyes, dark with intent, at the little grains of sand that sparkled on the lids and stuck to damp, spiky lashes. “Are you sure?” Ethan tipped his forehead against David’s. His voice was low and a little unsteady. “Because you know I can’t just walk away from a fear response. I have to push through it. Get a positive reaction.” David panted and blinked up into those smoldering eyes. They were above him—so how could he feel as if he were falling into them? “Fine. Here’s a positive reaction for you. I’m positive that I want you to take your stupid theories about programming and…and submission, and soothing savage beasts, and shove them up your ass, and I’m positive that I want you to take me back to the house and leave me alo—” His voice broke off into a sharp, hissing intake of breath as Ethan, without dropping his gaze from David’s, shifted his hips, brushing David’s imprisoned cock briefly— accidentally? unconsciously?—with his own crotch.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan raised an apologetic eyebrow. “I missed that last part. What were you saying?” “I said that I’m positive,” repeated David carefully when he could trust his voice again, concentrating on each syllable, holding onto the words as if they were life preservers in this sucking, roaring whirlpool of sensation, “that I want you to take me back to the house and leave me—” Again, Ethan’s hips moved, and again, David’s words evaporated into an insensate groan as his body responded immediately, helplessly, his pelvis rocking upward to seek Ethan’s. “Again, I apologize.” Ethan sounded not even remotely sorry as he leaned forward and tugged the shirt off David’s body, right over his head, sliding it off slack, nerveless arms. His eyes dropped to David’s bare chest and watched it rise and fall for a few moments as David struggled unsuccessfully to slow his excited breathing. Ethan held David’s left wrist loosely in one hand while he drew the backs of his fingers slowly down the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of David’s arm, all the way down the armpit and the ticklish skin at his side. David’s body jerked and quivered at the caress. “It’s very rude of me to keep interrupting you like this. One more time. What was it you thought you wanted?” “Damn it, Eath, I said that I want you to take me—” “Oh, Davo. That makes two of us.” He closed his mouth over David’s, and the shock of it surged through him like a lightning bolt…