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Gregory sat back forcefully, panting as if he had just run a three-minute mile. From between his legs, a scruffy-haired head emerged, licking his lips and smirking triumphantly. "You see?" It said. "I told you ze French are better at zis sort of thing."

"Alright, you win," conceded Gregory. Christophe nodded, looking bored. He reached over Gregory towards the night stand and grabbed a cigarette. After lighting it casually, he settled in next to Gregory.

"Smoke?" He always asked this question, just to make Gregory angry. The blonde narrowed his eyes.

"No thank you," he said stiffly, "Smoking is barbaric and unhealthy."

"I beg to deefer," replied Christophe. "Ze French smoke all ze time, and we are, seemply put, ze most ceevilized and elegant people in ze world." Christophe loved it when Gregory got pissed. They had the best sex when Gregory was angry.

"That may be, but you, my friend, are still an appalling rogue."

"Gregory, Gregory, always with ze gentlemanly tongue! Why don't you get a leetle... primal?" The last word came out a hiss- the brunette boy's face was inches from the blonde's. Immediately after this speech, Christophe's tongue descended on Gregory's bare chest. The brunette traced up the other boy's chest feverishly, continuing up his neck, eliciting a moan from Gregory.

When he reached Gregory's lips, Christophe stopped. He clamped on to Gregory's lower lip and kissed him fiercely, all the while his hands retracing the path his tongue had made. Gregory squirmed with the exquisite agony of being denied something one wants very much...

They flopped back onto the bed, each looking extremely satisfied. Christophe looked over at Gregory and grinned.

"I win again."

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