Title: Irresistible

Author: Athena2693

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Kyle is bored with his relationship with Stan and needs a little passion in his life

A/N: Not sure if I'll continue this or not, I'm notoriously bad with longer stores. If anybody likes it let me know and maybe I'll continue.

Kyle felt beautiful. Sexy. Irresistible. Wanted. Christophe told him he was such as he touched him. One hand lazily stroking Kyle's already weeping member as the other traced delicate patterns across the red, burning flesh of his backside where he had beaten the Jew so mercilessly just minutes ago. Where his fingertips traced the skin turned white for a split second before melding back into the fiery red flesh.

"Look how beautiful you look, Kyle," the French boy mused wetly in his ear, his large, leanly-muscled body lying over Kyle's own, totally eclipsing him in size and strength. "You always turn such a lovely shade of red for me. Such a good little boy you are for daddy."

Kyle groaned into the cheap, damp hotel pillowcase he was clutching so desperately. Every turn of the older man's wrist brought a small jolt of pain from the burning flesh of his buttocks and somehow another drop of pre-cum dripped down the side of his pink, verging on purple, fleshed shaft. This man was nothing like his really "daddy." If he had been he wouldn't be here with him now. Why would he want anybody like his father? His weak-willed, mild-mannered, underweight father was the last person he would want to share a bed with. He had grown up to be just like him. Kyle wouldn't have wanted to share a bed with himself either.

"What would you say if daddy touched you in your dirty place, Kyle?" Christophe leaned down to give a wet lick to Kyle's ass cheek.

"Don't."

"Why not? Are you afraid you'd like it?" Another lick, a bit closer to his actual opening.

"I don't want you to touch me."

"If you don't want me to touch you then why are you leaking all over my hand, you filthy little boy?"

Kyle buried his face deeper into the rough-cloth of the cheap floral pillowcase. His face burned almost as badly as his backside, though the scratchy fabric didn't hurt nearly as bad against his face as the calloused, coarse skin of Christophe's fingers did against his bruising skin. It didn't feel nearly as good either. He resisted the urge, though barely, to rub himself against the threadbare, gray sheets.

When he didn't answer, Christophe suddenly raised his hand and gave his already throbbing ass a good smack. The contact of the firm slap against the cooling spit made the sting even more pronounced. Kyle felt his cock jump in surprise and excitement.

"Answer me."

"I already said I didn't want you touching me," Kyle protested shrilly.

"Oui, but you didn't give me a reason. Why shouldn't I touch you? You're such a little slut. You'd let any man who walked into this room right now fuck you for a dime, so why wouldn't you want me to touch you?" As if to prove his point, Christophe gave Kyle's ample rump a good squeeze.

"That's not true," Kyle murmured weakly. "I'd never…I have too much self respect to do such a thing."

"Sure you have too much pride," Kyle couldn't see it, but he could hear the smirk in the Frenchman's voice. He lifted his head from his pillowy sanctuary, his neck straining at the effort, to glance at the slightly elevated mirror across the room. Sure enough he saw Christophe leering back at him in the mirror, his devilishly handsome face and tousled hair bringing another leap from the Jew's cock. "So much pride I was able just to walk into this room, surprise you in your sleep, and rip the clothes off your slutty little body with hardly any resistance. I didn't even have to offer you that dime, you cheap whore."

"I resisted," Kyle insisted, "I bit you."

"Foreplay," Christophe laughed off the oozing wound on his left shoulder. What was a little bite to a mercenary? He barely even drew any blood. He gave Kyle's ass another slap. "Come on bitch; spread your legs for daddy."

"No!"

"I said spread 'em." Kyle attempted to get away from the forceful grip, grabbing onto the side of the bed for leverage, kicking with his long, coltish legs at the foreign man behind him. All the scrabbling and biting and scratching and kicking in the world was no use against this man that nearly doubled him in weight though.

Exhausted and panting, Kyle's head was shoved down against the mattress with a hand against the back of his neck. The Frenchman adjusted the younger boy's hips as he wished, pulling his ass into the air and spreading his legs to an uncomfortable angle. Once he had him where he wanted him he grabbed both of Kyle's wrists with one hand and retrained them by twisting them into the small of his back and holding them there. Kyle gasped in absolute pain as Christophe shoved his way inside him with little more than a warning and a hand full of spit.

The pain was blunt and focused, not a burning or tearing, as Kyle always remembered hearing it described in those dirty stories he read when he was fourteen, but a spasming, tight pain that hurt his soul almost as much as his ass. The older man gave him scant seconds to adjust before he pulled back, almost out entirely, giving him momentarily relief from the horrible sensation, and then slammed back in full force. Kyle swore he could feel the man's cock in his throat

He let out a sob, begging the larger man to stop, telling him that he was hurting him, that he didn't want this, that he just wanted to go home. Christophe gave him a hardy slap against the side of the head with the hand that wasn't holding his wrists and then shoved his face back into the mattress.

"You sound like a dying cat. Now be a good little boy and beg me to fuck you harder and I'll touch your cock for you."

"Never! I'd never beg you for such a disgusting thing! Never! Not if I was being tortured to death at the hands of Adolph Hitler himself!"

To Kyle's credit, he did manage to resist for almost three minutes.

Christophe didn't believe in being gentle in the act of fucking. If it was worth putting his cock in, it was worth tearing apart in the process. By the time he came Kyle had been slammed almost flat into the mattress, each thrust pushing his legs a bit farther apart below him until they were almost unbearably widely spread beneath him. His ass felt raw, like pulverized meat, and his cock was sore and tender, and very wet. Still, Christophe kept pounding away at him from behind, not having reached his own climax. Suddenly, he went still.

"Not inside of me," Kyle cried out quickly.

"Don't tell me where I can't come, bitch."

Still, Christophe pulled out with a wet plop before emptying his load across Kyle's red ass and pale back. Then he gave Kyle a shove onto his side and fell down in part of the bed where Kyle had been just lying.

"Geez, I love you too," Kyle huffed indignantly at being pushed aside like an in-the-way shopping cart at the grocery store.

"Don't you have a boyfriend to be getting home to," Christophe replied, not even opening his eyes.

Kyle was quiet for a moment. He had been enjoying himself still. Acting put off, annoyed, indignant, it was part of this. He didn't need it ruined by that sudden realization he shouldn't even be here.

"I suppose I should be getting back," Kyle admitted quietly, the fight gone from his voice. "He won't be home for a couple more hours but I need to shower and get dinner started."

Christophe just gave a hum, or was it a huff, in agreement, staring at the inside of his own eyelids. Kyle slipped out of bed, sore and a bit shaking and feeling extremely satisfied, looking around for the remains of his discarded clothes. He learned long ago not to wear anything that ripped easily or had buttons to these occasions.

As he was leaning over to pick up one of his socks beside the dresser he suddenly felt eyes on him. That weird sense you were being watched. He shifted his head to look beside him and saw the Frenchman leaning up on one elbow, staring at him, hungrily.

"Stop looking at me."

"I like to look at you."

"I know, but stop."

"Then stop leaning over so provocatively."

"How else am I supposed to get my clothes where you left them all over this filthy hotel floor?"

"I like seeing you like this," Christophe ignored Kyle's question. "You're gorgeous like this, you know. I like seeing what I did to you. Your perfect prissy hair all messed up. Your nerdy white skin all flushed. And when you bend over like that, your asshole is gaping and leaking."

"Ew. That's gross."

"No, it's hot. My cock did that to you. Made you gape. It's like my cock left an imprint inside you. It makes me want to fuck you again."

"That's still gross. And you can't, I have to get home and make dinner."

"Your boyfriend's rich, make him take you out."

"No, Christophe," Kyle replied firmly, "I have to go."

As usual when Kyle said no to Christophe touching him, the Frenchman's penis was inside him within five minutes.

TBC?