"You know you should pay me for that, right?"
"Hmm?" Pierre doesn't even look up, his concentration focused on the sketch pad in front of him. "For what?"
"For whatever it is you're doing," Sebastian gestures. "Using me as a model. How many drawings have you made of me by now?"
"Fifteen?" Pierre continues drawing unperturbedly. "Twenty, maybe. I don't know, it kind of depends if you just count finished drawings or sketches as well. Why?"
"Because you're using me as a model," Sebastian repeats, and then, more to himself, almost as an afterthought: "God knows why."
"Because you're interesting." Finally Pierre looks up, a mild look of surprise on his face, as if he doesn't quite understand why it needs explaining. "Because I think you're interesting."
He holds Sebastian's gaze for a while, just long enough for Sebastian to start feeling uncomfortable, and then just bursts out laughing, returning his attention back to his work whilst shaking his head.
It's always like this between them - one moment Sebastian is sure he's being flirted with, and the next it feels like Pierre is just making fun of him. It's a constant push and pull, and the fact that he desperately wants Pierre to flirt with him doesn't help his judgement in the least. But he's learned the hard way that, more often than not, hooking up with friends ends up in disaster, and he's not quite prepared to take the risk; Paris is an extremely expensive city for those in need of emergency accommodation.
And so in lieu of a more inappropriate response, he just says: "Well, 'interesting' doesn't come for free, so pay off."
"Up," Pierre corrects his French. "The verb is to pay up. And no."
"And why the hell not? I'm sure you get people to model for you at the Academy all the time - I bet they get paid."
"They get paid some," Pierre admits, "but you couldn't do that."
"Why?" Sebastian asks again. "Am I too pretty to share?"
Pierre's pencil stills, and the silence lingers for a few seconds while he looks at Sebastian, a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips. Sebastian knows that smirk: it's Pierre's I-just-got-an-idea-but-I-won't-tell-you-what-it-is smirk, and he braces himself for what's about to come. It's disappointingly plain though.
"You're American."
"Oh sure, make fun of the American," Sebastian exasperates. "We've never brought any good to this world anyway, right? Classy, Pierre - real classy."
"You are American," Pierre repeats patiently, "and Americans are prude. I would need you without clothes."
Sebastian doesn't even think about it - grabs his t-shirt by the hem and pulls it over his head and then, in one swift movement, pushes his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles so he can step out of them.
"You mean like this?" he asks challengingly and then finally -finally- Pierre looks up. The look of shock and astonishment that crosses over his face only lasts for a split second before he schools his face back to a more serious expression, but Sebastian still counts it as a win; especially when Pierre slowly puts his drawing pad to the side.
"What are you doing?" Pierre asks as he gets up, moving to stand right in front of Sebastian, but Sebastian doesn't quiver, simply stares right back at him.
"I thought you wanted me without clothes," he says, and he only hopes Pierre can't hear the roughness of his voice. Or if he does, that he interprets it exactly for what it is - an invitation.
"Hell yeah."
Pierre quietly reaches out, his fingers grazing the skin of his shoulder -gently, almost reverently- before he trails them down along his collar bone. As small as the touch is, as big is the feeling it evokes, and Sebastian can't suppress a shiver when Pierre starts circling him slowly, gently exploring his upper body with his fingers as he goes.
"An athlete's body," he says, and even if Sebastian can't see him anymore he can practically feel Pierre's eyes raking over every square centimeter of him. "What do you play?"
"Lacrosse. It's like... a crossover between hockey and basketball, I guess? The stick is netted though. I don't know how to explain, I don't think they play it here."
"Well, they should... they really, really should."
Pierre's come full circle, coming back to a still in front of Sebastian, pupils blown wide and his breathing just that bit more superficial than usual.
"So... does that mean I'm deemed worthy of pay?" Sebastian asks him.
"Name your price," Pierre replies, staring at Sebastian's lip as he takes a step closer, and it sounds like a challenge. "Though I feel like I need to inform you... I am prepared to pay in kind."
Sebastian's kiss initially ends up somewhere under Pierre's nose, but he finds Pierre's lips quickly enough, and he presses forward hungrily, losing himself in the taste of Pierre's mouth and tongue. He knows he'll regret it in the morning, but right now, when Pierre so clearly wants and his own body is yelling at him, it feels useless to resist.
"This... damn... I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you through the peephole that first day," Pierre moans in between kisses, and Sebastian grabs at his wrists to still his hands.
"Seriously?" he asks, pulling back a little. "You've been wanting me naked for weeks and you didn't even make a move? Dude, you have got to learn to take initiative."
But Pierre just bursts out laughing, shaking his head.
"Sébas, mon coeur, have I taught you nothing?" he asks innocently, hooking his arms behind Sebastian's neck. "Easy does it here in France - play the game, build the tension. That's why you only ever get tourists: you want too much, too fast. Sex is only the cherry on top of the pie, you know. It's good, but getting straight to it is just a waste of good pie."
"You're making me hungry," Sebastian complains, placing kisses all over Pierre's neck and face. "And frustrated. And I'm really glad you seem to have enjoyed your pie these last weeks, but could you please -please- shut up now so we can pop that cherry?"
"Of course," Pierre says generously, and Sebastian -and his painful hard-on- heaves a sigh of relief. "One more thing though..."
"I got condoms in my room."
"... please take off your socks."
.
"Told ya I would get a French man willing to fuck me," Sebastian smirks complacently when they're lying on his bed not half an hour later, still a little out of breath, and he turns his head when he hears Pierre snicker.
"You mean you found a French man who took pity on you," Pierre tells him with a smile, turning on his side and resting his head on his hand. "Not quite the same thing, mon coeur."
"Hmm... I distinctively remember you telling me you've been wanting to fuck me for quite some time now..."
"Impossible," Pierre says decisively. "I don't remember anything of the sort."
He immediately tumbles on his back from the force of Sebastian's shove, and he laughs as Sebastian crawls on top of him, growling a little as he nozzles his nose against the soft skin of Pierre's neck.
"Dick head."
"As I recall, you loved my dick head," Pierre teases, and Sebastian hums in agreement.
"Not sure why you're using the past tense there," he mumbles, working his way down Pierre's chest. "It's an absolutely wonderful dick head."
"I kn- too soon. Too soon!"
With a hiss Pierre pulls Sebastian away from where he'd started to kiss the oversensitive subject of their conversation, and Sebastian winks.
"Well... at least you can't deny I have done my job right. I. wore. you. out."
"You were... satisfactory," Pierre admits after a pause, smirking. "For an American."
"I was awesome," Sebastian bounces back. "Because I'm American."
He lets himself fall back on the bed next to Pierre, snuggling up to him just a little. He usually tries to avoid getting cuddly with his one-night-stands -guys tended to either think it meant something or kick him out because they thought he thought it meant something- but with Pierre it feels right, somehow, and he smiles when he feels an arm being wrapped around him, encouraging him to scoot a little closer.
"So, I guess I'll be packing my bags tonight then, ha?" he muses. "I'm sure I could crash Charlie's couch for a few nights, and then hopefully it won't take me longer than a couple days to find a new place, but it would be awesome if I could leave my stuff here at least-"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Pierre looks down at him, confused. "Why do you want to move out all of a sudden?"
"Uhm... because we fucked?" Sebastian says, not sure why it needs explaining. "Because people either fuck or they're friends; not both."
But Pierre just stares at him.
"Well of course both! What do you think the term 'friends with benefits' means?"
"Trouble, usually," Sebastian says dryly. "Either that or they turn out to be transgender."
Pierre raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Why do I have a feeling there's a story behind that?"
"Because there is."
Sebastian doesn't plan on elaborating. He's never really talked about his relationship with Jolene before - partly because he's just not a big talker when it comes to relationships, but mostly because he's simply never met anyone who might understand. But Pierre keeps staring at him, clearly awaiting the story, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes.
"She was my roommate in high school and then later in college. We'd been seeing each other for like two years before she finally dared to tell me she was... well... she..."
"Wait... ," Pierre says slowly, "let me recap that... You. Dated a girl. For two years?"
He bursts out laughing, and Sebastian shoves him playfully.
"Hey! In my defense: I didn't know she was a girl."
"Sébas, stop!" Pierre squeals. "That really doesn't make it any better, you know? You were dating her for christ's sake, how could you not notice that!"
"Because she's a woman, they're good at faking stuff... hey, I don't know!" Sebastian exclaims, though he can't stop himself from laughing either. "I was like seventeen or eighteen - I really didn't care how much she liked to accessorize as long as she sucked my dick. And we weren't really... dating... it was more like, we were having a lot of sex and then people sort of assumed we were dating and it was easier to just to along with it?"
"Oh mon dieu..." Pierre hiccups, slowly coming down from his high. "Oh dear... she must be one hell of a woman though, to put up with you like that."
"She's... pretty awesome," Sebastian says, smiling as he thinks of Jolene and everything they've gone through together. "Maybe one day I'll introduce you to her."
"I would love that."
And suddenly Sebastian feels like the room is too small for just the two of them, because what the hell is he thinking talking about introducing Pierre to Jolene as if he wants her to know him? There's just a little too much implied attachment in that scenario for post-casual-sex musings, and Sebastian quickly scrambles up, wiping at his nose and frantically looking for something to say to break the impasse.
"So, what now?"
"Pizza, I was thinking," Pierre says pensively, wrinkling his nose. "Mushrooms and eggplant. And olives. Mon dieu, I love olives."
"No, I meant..." Sebastian takes a deep breath. "I meant... us. Where do we stand?"
"Uh- in your room. Well, I'm lying and you're sitting, but-"
"Pépé, please... ," Sebastian pleads. "Just for once could you leave the jokes? This is important to me. I don't wanna suddenly end up on the street because you though my blow job was less than satisfactory or because I brought some other guy home or-"
"Hey!" Pierre scrambles up, taking Sebastian's face between his hands. "Relax, all right? Just relax. I'm not gonna throw you out. I'm not gonna get jealous. I am, however, gonna make you feel really..." A kiss. "... really..." Another kiss. "... good."
For a moment, Sebastian lets himself get lost in the kiss, a real French kiss, and it's only when Pierre tries to pull him down that he manages to get his head back on straight.
"So what are you suggesting here?" he asks, panting just a little. "No strings?"
"No strings," Pierre promises. "We wanna fuck, we fuck. You wanna fuck someone else, you go right ahead. I promise I'll do the same. I also promise I will now stop threatening the other guys I'll kill them if they don't let me have you first."
"You're j-" Sebastian starts, but when he sees Pierre's mischievous smile he just shakes his head. "Fuck you."
"Please," Pierre replies with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Be my guest."
.
It's the first night they spend together, but it's definitely not the last. Sometimes Sebastian thinks they should slow it down a little, give each other a bit more space once in a while, but then Pierre comes home with that smirk on his face, and Sebastian knows he couldn't resist even if he wanted to. And it's such a trip to finally be with someone who is as experienced as he is, who's just as eager to experiment and try new things, and who, unlike so many of Sebastian's other conquests, doesn't start to imagine things after a while to try to tell Sebastian what to do or who to be.
They don't just stay in bed 24/7 though. Sometimes they go for a run along the Seine together, or they randomly jump from one metro line on the next, discovering new places and neighborhoods, letting themselves be swallowed by the hustle and bustle of the city. They get robbed once, when they accidentally end up in the wrong suburb after dark, and Pierre spends the whole evening sketching everything they'd seen that day to replace the pictures Sebastian had lost together with his camera. Sebastian expresses his gratitude by finally giving in to Pierre's pleas and tagging along to the impressionist museum of Orsay - and actually liking it. It becomes a tradition: the Louvre, Pompidou, Les Invalides, ... not a week goes by where they don't spend at least one day holed up in one museum or another, and Sebastian spends hours just listening as Pierre tells him everything he knows about the paintings and the artists who created them. Time flies by so fast Sebastian is honestly surprised when he receives a worried text from Jolene asking if he's all right, and he realizes he hasn't talked to her in over two weeks.
"I'm okay," he immediately texts back. "More than okay, even. How about a Skype date tomorrow? I've got something to tell you."