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One Knight In Paris	By : Truelove Category: Celebrities - Misc > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1993 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know the celebrities I am writing about. This is fiction, and I make no money from this story.

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- 1-One Knight In Paris
- 1
One Knight In Paris
This story is a work of fiction. I do not know Donnie Wahlberg, Jonathan Knight, Jenny McCarthy, or Harley Rodriguez in real life. I make no money from posting this story. This story contains m/m anal sex. If that offends you, please do not read it. Thanks.
He was in too deep now, but he couldn't stop. There was a tingling in his chest, deep within his ribcage on the left side. He tried to control his breathing, thinking he was lacking oxygen; still, the sensation intensified with every thrust, and more so with every unintelligible cry Jon made for him. The hunger in his lover's eyes flashed bright, even in the near-darkness; all around them, the candle flames danced to the rhythm of the lovers' pulsating motions. Donnie watched Jon's face, tight with the need for release; his eyes moved down to Jon's chest, his belly, and, finally, to the place where the two men were joined, the part of Jon which rose to meet Donnie, wanting more, needing more. Donnie was in awe of him, this man who had him locked in so tight he could not escape. D knew in that instant that he would have murdered anyone who tried to separate them. His need was not to seek his own release, but to bring Jon to ecstasy; it was the only way he could hope to satisfy this burning drive which had overtaken him. In that moment, Jon was everything: the greatest mystery of the universe, his golden dream - and he would not, could not, stop until Jon came for him.
The thought of Jon gasping and spasming as climax rendered him helpless made Donnie power in and out of him with renewed intensity. Jon's voice was a hot wind roaring in Donnie's ear: "Please..keep going.." Donnie went as hard as he could, not sparing his lover, and Jon did not flinch. This was more than lust, more than two bodies working out their animal passions on one another, though D refused to admit to himself what he was feeling. The tingling in his chest became a buzzing, trembling, burning sensation, something just short of pain. He wondered if this was the end for him, if his body was simply unable to meet Jon's demands; he did not struggle against it, and the sensation did not limit his ability to move inside of him.
Was this what the old woman had foreseen when the two friends had ducked into the Boutique de Magique to evade a gaggle of giggling fans? She had spoken to them in imperfect English about the great love awaiting both of them here in the most romantic city on earth. Jon, ever practical, had tried to cut her off, insisting that neither of them wanted a 'reading,' but she had waved this away, imparting her intuition for free. "You have a long history together - often meeting, never completing. This city holds secrets of your past, which others have told you; it also holds your future." Once the coast was clear, the friends had made their way to the banks of the Seine, picnicking and imbibing too much wine before staggered and sang their way back to their rented quarters. It was there that Donnie found Jenny's last-ditch attempts at romance still arranged: candles burning, champagne on ice, rose petals scattered upon the bed - and, on top of the petals, a note. That chapter of Donnie's life had now come to an end. Harley had vacated Jon's suite, leaving a similar note, and the friends had comforted one another, as good friends should. That comfort had taken an unexpected turn, but, looking back, had it really been such a surprise? Hadn't the lovers each man had dallied with seemed transitory and disposable?
Donnie pulled almost all the way out, then slid himself in again to the hilt. This was peace; this was like coming home after a lifetime - multiple lifetimes - of wandering, lost. He met Jon's wide-eyed gaze as Jon whispered to him, urging him on, his sweet pleadings making D swell even more as this show of vulnerability. Every whimper brough Donnie a new burst of pleasure-pain from the center of his being. Even as he wished to stop, to regain self-control, he felt his body and soul surrendering to Jon's. They were beyond speech now, barely able to form coherent thought; D's mind repeated two words, insistent, growing louder each time: my heart. my heart. my heart. He knew he would be lost to Jon if he didn't pull out; his body was moving by instinct, adjusting his position in response to Jon's wordless cries. Jon came, calling Donnie's name again and again as the waves broke over him. Donnie felt him let go, felt his hole squeezing him tight, surrounding him, making him blind with passion. Donnie let go, too, bringing their bodies as close together as their position would allow. "I love you. I love you.." He could no more have stopped his mouth than he could have stopped the fountain of cum which was pouring forth into Jon's body. Jon moaned, taking all of him, absorbing him completely. Donnie was completely Jon's, and Jon was completely his, body and soul.
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One Knight In Paris