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"Ryan. Ryan Farrell." I almost feel like James Bond, giving my name like that, except that - thanks to a mother who has an obsession with European languages - I happen to know my name means 'victorious little king' and it would be damn embarrassing if anyone outside the family did.
"Neil Farrell," my brother adds, standing next to me. Identical as we are, we sometimes swap IDs just for fun to see if anyone notices, but not this time. We just want to get home, both of us, and the flight over the Atlantic Ocean is going to be a long one. Oh, and my brother's name means 'victorious champion'. Our mom is a bit nuts in her own, lovable way.
"Here you go," the lady behind the desk says and gives us our boarding passes for the plane. I figure that she must be dead-tired or something, for not paying attention to two handsome hunks such as Neil and I. Two identical handsome hunks. Many a lady's wet dream.
As we hand over our luggages for the security check and then leave for the cafeteria to wait for the loudspeakers to cough out the call for our flight, I drop one arm on my brother's shoulders and answer his grin with one of my own.
"Going home at last," I say, feeling envigorated with the mere thought. France is a great country, but they don't like to speak English a lot, and my French skills are limited to wine-making and asking a person to bend over and prepare to be fucked. Unlike my dear brother, I don't make a fuss over the gender of my bedmates. I draw the line on the species, that's all.
"Missing Rufio after all those French guys and girls?" Neil fakes surprise, naming my most steady lover back home.
"Of course," I quip back, "you should have seen the picture he sent of himself over e-mail. Would have made your cock drool as well." In fact, just thinking of Rufio playing with the big dildo I got him last Christmas when we saw last, is making my cock perk up with interest.
"Want to catch a cup of coffee?" Neil suggests, eyeing the prices with slight apprehension.
"I have to take a leak first," I lie. I need some privacy, alright, but not to pee.
"I'll come with you," my brother agrees, and together we enter the men's room.
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