"Are you up for a little role playing?" 💋
Ezra’s arms slid around him and Remington could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped the wooden divider in front of him, trapping him in the space between the railing and Ezra’s body. The fingers of one of Ezra’s hands laced tightly through his as he moved in closer against him, fitting along his gentle curves like the edges of a puzzle. Remington’s heart thumped hard in his chest, and he worked to keep his focus on the studious looking woman speaking to their group in heavily accented English about the rise of Protestantism in Europe in the 16th century, and how it affected the largely Catholic France. He flicked his eyes up at the stained glass Saints that seemed to glare down their two dimensional noses at him from their high windows, as the fingertips of Ezra’s other hand slid unseen along his belt buckle. The heavy incense on the air was making him feel a little light headed.
Remington dragged his eyes back to their guide in an attempt to pay attention; though she might as well have just continued the tour in French, for all that he was comprehending. Ezra’s fingertips brushed lightly south of his belt buckle, so gently that all he felt were tingles against the fabric of his jeans.
After a moment, Remington turned his head over his shoulder and whispered, “If there’s a quiz at the end of this tour, we’re so fucked.” Ezra laughed against his t-shirt, and the silky, low sound of it made something uncurl and stretch luxuriously deep down inside Remington’s belly. He felt the tension release along his spine as his body loosened and relaxed back against Ezra’s hard chest and hips.
The tour group began to move away and Remington tried to follow, though couldn’t because Ezra didn’t lower his arm to let him go. He tightened his fingers on Remington’s and gripped the railing of the wooden partition harder. Remington looked back over his shoulder at him.
“Hang back a minute,” Ezra murmured to him, resting his chin onto his shoulder as he watched the rest of the group walk away to the next stop in the tour.
It was fairly late in the afternoon; theirs had been the last tour of the day, so there were no other groups behind them. As the last few people shuffled away following their guide, Remington and Ezra were alone in the huge, empty cathedral. Ezra nodded his head over at the ornate wooden stalls in the back right of the raised pulpit. There was a sign in front of them proclaiming in curly script that the confessionals were closed for the day, to open again at 9 am the following morning. Remington laughed under his breath as Ezra pushed against him from behind and kissed his shoulder.
“Are you up for a little role playing?” Ezra asked him quietly. Remington turned his face to him, smiling.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked. Ezra pushed his sunglasses up onto his head as he moved them against the railing closer to the confessionals on the right side. He began to kiss his way up the curve of Remington’s neck.
“I was thinking…I could be the Sinner and you could be the Priest?”
Curious?💋 Find out what happens in the link: In Paris, On Silk Sheets by DallasFaye
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