Francis and Beauregard

(so I don't really remember if we really agreed to have Beau and Francis together, but I figured why the hell not? xD haha! so ya, that's what's going to happen here haha and like, ya... so I'm starting with that they're already together and at this moment in time, they're going to America because Beau has a photo shoot there that either Francis is the photographer, or Francis is in a sour mood because someone else is paying Beau to model for them while they take the pics... haha I personally like the latter of the two with Francis in a mood because he isn't the one photographing his Beau for once (it would happen from time to time) So right now, they're on their private jet on their way to America

At this point, I think they would've already slept together, but I don't think they should actually be in a relationship quite yet just, you know, friends with benefits haha and benefits that I'm sure they both take advantage of xD haha

It is also assumed that whenever they are talking to each other, they are speaking in French, instead of English, but because we aren't that good at French, we'll be writing it in English haha!)

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The brunette heaved a soft sigh as he flipped the page of the magazine he was reading, pausing to glance through the page he was now on. He raised his vibrant pacific blue coloured eyes and watched the blonde sitting across from him. "Francis, are you still pouting?" he asked him, setting his magazine down in his lap. "Mon cher, you won't always be the man to photograph me. As much as I prefer having you do it, others need to as well. Especially these Americans; their ways are different than ours and you may end up doing something that they don't want." He got up and went over to the blonde, standing in front of him. "Smile, mon cheri, pour moi? S'il vous plais?" he whispered, placing his hands against the back of the chair Francis was sitting in and leaning over him with such a charming smile playing across his lips and a look in those bright blue eyes that landed him his first photo shoot when he was fourteen.

He had been in the business for a long time and never once had he fallen to the pressure that came with it. He didn't fight to stay thin, in fact, by other photographers' standards, he was horribly overweight, considering the men and women they all photographer were bone thin, anorexic and addicted to every known drug on the black market. This model though, wouldn't cave; he hadn't tried any drug, he enjoyed food only too much, particularly their French cuisine and he hadn't been on a single diet in his life. Some people were just lucky to have been given a body of such perfection with little need to upkeep it. This young man was one of them.

Just about everything was perfect about him. His figure, although quite feminine, was a thing of masculine beauty. His face was perfectly sculpted with eyes that burned whomever he gazed at, nearly driving them insane; and he had such an alluring and captivating smile so similar to the famed smile of the Mona Lisa that seemed to scream mystery. Few were able to get close to him though. Even his own agent wasn't allowed alone with him for longer than ten minutes, but this blonde man the model was flying with was the only exception. Francis was his own personal photographer and the man went everywhere with him.

The brown haired man smiled and lightly curled his slender fingers in Francis' blonde hair. "Mm, what can I do to make you smile again, mon cheri?" he whispered to him, leaning forward and lightly breathing in the man's scent at his neck. That was one smell the brunette would gladly get high off of and yet, as of yet, they were not a couple.

Eyes the colour of the bluest skies lifted and met with the model's own blue orbs, the ever faint of a frown across his lips. Francis was not particularly fond of pouting as it left him feeling rather unattractive. And Francis knew that smiling was always so attractive - much more attractive than frowning. Being French - very, very French - it could be trusted that he knew what was attractive and what was not.

This brunette that currently ran such agile, beautiful fingers through his hair (hair that Francis kept so perfect and so well kept) was oh-so attractive. Every single inch of him. It would only be for this man that Francis would pout and frown and wear such unattractive facial expressions because it was only for this man that Francis would become jealous of whoever had the beautiful luxury of photographing him or being simply in his presence.

Jealously is such an ugly thing and though Francis did not hold any fond emotions for the things that are considered ugly, jealously was something he held on to.

"Beauregard, I have every right to pout. Les Américains shall not capture your true beauty the way I do." Francis was firm in that belief, but he allowed himself to smile nonetheless because oh-how petit Beau was so close to him and Francis would moan at the other man's wonderful scent.

"I will smile perhaps more, cheri, if you perhaps let me taste those belle lèvres of yours. You always taste so exceptionnel."

Beau licked his lips slowly, seductively and he smiled faintly. "Mm, you want to taste mon lèvres?" he whispered, skimming his fingers up the side of Francis' neck and across his lightly bearded chin. He moaned softly and smiled, chewing his bottom lip as he slowly lowered himself down into the blonde's lap. He cupped Francis' cheeks and grinned. "If it will make you smile," he breathed, leaning forward and placing his hands against the side of the blonde's neck. "You can have more than just my lips, mon cheri," he moaned softly, his lips already so close to the man's lips. "The rest of my body is yours whenever you want it." He then pressed his lips firmly to Francis' lips as he pressed his body against the man's.

Francis returned the kiss eagerly, the taste of Beau against his tongue was so perfect and so wonderful. Slender fingers reached up and caressed the brunette's neck affectionately, adoringly, lingering and simply portraying strong emotion through touch alone.

Francis had always been so good with his hands.

"Oui, I have always known that, cher." Francis breathed as he pulled back only briefly, eyes flickering and watching Beau with an affectionate gaze.

"You are so belle, oui? Très belle." He kissed him softly, absently slipping a well-practised hand up under the other's shirt.

The brunette smiled, licking his lips again as he lowered his eyes to where the man's hand was under his shirt. He looked back to the man he was straddling and watched him. "Je sais," he breathed. "I know I'm beautiful." He smiled. "Why do you think you're my photographer?" He slipped his hands to Francis' hips and slowly lifted himself off. He grinned and pressed another firm kiss to Francis' lips. "Mm, do you feel a little better now?" he asked, leaning over the blonde again. "Will you smile for me, mon cheri?"

"Ah, I know that you know. I just enjoy telling you every so often, cher." Francis chuckled as he leaned up to kiss Beau once more - but it was followed by several smaller kisses instead of just the first intentional one.

"I am your photographer because I am so equally beautiful." Francis mused.

"However, the camera does not capture my beauty as it captures yours." He smiled.

"And I will smile for you, cher. Because it is so hard not to smile when you are positioned so sensually."

Beau smiled and licked his lips again. "We have a few hours before we land. I suggest we make good use of it," he whispered and reached down further to the lock on the seat. He pulled it and it sent the seat to a flat position. He then leaned himself against the blonde Frenchman, moaning as he kissed his lips. "Mm, make these beautiful lips scream your name, mon cheri," he moaned.

"I must agree, cher." Francis breathed as he trailed smooth fingers against Beau's equally smooth skin.

"And to hear such belle lips sing a name as beautiful as my own is a perfect goal, oui? I say that we get started." He purred as he kissed Beau once more.

Beau moaned into the kiss and slipped his agile hands under the blonde's shirt, tugging it off him before he lowered his head to press his soft lips against Francis' skin, slowly working his way down to Francis' pants.

This wasn't the first time they had been so intimate. In fact, they did this quite often and yet they weren't classified as a couple. At least not yet; they both did way too much flirting for that, although anyone who knew them would say that a steady relationship was certainly around the corner.

Beauregard slowly licked his way down Francis' chest, circling his tongue momentarily around the man's navel as his nimble hands worked the blonde's pants undone.

Francis gasped faintly and moaned as he tugged gently on Beau's clothing, skilfully managing to remove the other's pants.

"Oh, cher. Such a talented tongue." He moaned softly, fingers twirling Beau's hair in his fingers.

Beau moaned softly, the sound just as beautiful as the young man it was coming from and he leaned down, gazing up at the man before he slowly brought the man's member into his mouth, showing him just how talented his tongue was.

Francis no longer used coherent words other than little pet names he used for Beau over the years of knowing him. He breathed heavily, fingers continuously going through the brown locks of hair as he moaned softly.

After a few moments of incredible mouth work, Beau pulled back and slowly straddled the man again, rocking his hips against Francis' which lightly rubbed their members together, giving a new, but pleasurable sensation to both. Beau watched him through those bright blue eyes that were now hazed with lust as he leaned over him.

Francis gasped out softly and allowed his eyes to flutter shut only briefly before opening again. He moved his own hips in an attempt to increase the friction between the two.

"Ah, Beauregard."

The soft flush that feathered across the brunette's cheeks only seemed to enhance his appearance and he moaned softly, keeping his gaze locked with Francis'. He then slowly guided the man up inside him, managing to keep his gaze locked with Francis' until the man was deep inside him and then Beau's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure as he released another moan, giving away how good the blonde felt inside him.

"Oh Francis. Il se sent si bien," he moaned. He opened his eyes again and smirked, leaning down to kiss Francis' lips again.

Francis moaned as he shifted himself instinctively, a large smirk creeping across his face. He murmured some soft compliments and returned the kiss affectionately, the stubble of his beard lightly brushing up against the other's skin.

"Ah, cher. You are so tight."

Beau moaned and almost lost his composure, wanting nothing more than to ride the man into the seat and get them both screaming in pleasure.

"D-do you like it?" he breathed, shifting faintly and getting the man deeper inside him with a loud moan.

"A- ah, I love it, cher." Francis moaned softly, leaning forwards and running his tongue along the other's throat as he continued at a steady pace.

Beau moaned, tilting his head back as he slowly rode the man, closing his eyes and focusing on the sheer pleasure his body was feeling. Oh how he loved having sex with this man! Francis always made him so hot and always knew how to touch him to really get him off and bring him to such incredible orgasms. He didn't know how Francis did it, but he knew for a fact that the blonde he was currently riding was the best he had ever had. Perhaps that was why he kept coming back to him for this.

Other men he had slept with had been good, yes, but Francis was far better than them. This man was incredible! He literally hit the spot in Beau that no other man could reach. And he knew what that meant, but in all honesty, he was afraid to admit it. He didn't want to lose the man that could satisfy both his body and heart in a single act of pure unadulterated intimacy.

Beau gasped and cried out softly, arching his back and steadily increasing the pace until he really was riding the man into the seat, riding him hard and sending sparks of pleasure through both of their bodies. "Francis!" he gasped out. "Oh Dieu!" The emotions that ran across the brunette's face as he made love to the man were beautiful and completely photo worthy, but at that moment, the camera was probably the very last thing on either of their minds.

Franics had been with many different lovers of both genders, but by far, Beau was the best lover he had ever had. The two had a unique connection that the blonde Frenchman could feel between the two of them. Especially during such intimate moments such as these.

"Cher!" He purred into the other's neck, paying a certain spot special attention.

Beau shuddered and moaned, pleasure rippling through his body and he softly moaned the blonde's name over and over again as he continued to ride him. He lightly dug his beautifully manicured nails into Francis' shoulders as he neared his orgasm.

"Oh, cher." Francis purred, kissing the other's neck once more.

"Cum for me, cher."

It was as if the words were what drove Beauregard over the edge and he moaned loudly against Francis' ear as he reached his orgasm and released onto the blonde's stomach. "Oh Francis," he moaned softly, still rocking his hips slowly.

Francis moaned softly as he continued to move, finally coming into his own release as well.

"Oh, cher." He purred softly.

"Tu es belle..."

Beau leaned against Francis, panting softly and he smiled at the compliment. "Mm, merci beaucoup, mon cheri," he breathed and kissed Francis' lips.