[ There's a moment when everything's grey fog, his mind feeling pleasantly blank, no long speeches, no arguments, not a word. Just quiet, buzzing, his muscles slowly turning to jelly, more or less. He breathes in, slow, long and deep, staring up at Jean Louis' ceiling, the light from the aquarium dying it in notes of blue, lots of flickers, lot of shadows, moving things. He stays still. He lets it exist around him and exists within it, the way he just came so deep in Jean Louis' throat that the man is now fighting for air with his forehead against Claude's thigh, the puffs of it feeling soft and hot and fast.
Finally, Claude shakes himself out of it and glances down himself, where his spent cock is looking sad and slowly turning limp in the condom. Not good.
With a groan, he sits up and reaches down, easing the condom off, tying it up and uncaringly aiming it somewhere beyond the bed, throwing it without checking where it lands. Doesn't matter. It's done its job. Jean Louis has, too. He's been good. He's been amazing. ]
That was how deep you wanted to take me? [ A small pause, then softly - ] Deeper than anyone else has.
[ Slowly, he gets onto his knees, careful to extract himself from beneath Jean Louis gently and without colliding with anything too hard. He looks him over, the way he's sitting there, hard as rock and more patient than most men Claude has fucked. It's like that, apparently. Jean Louis Girard takes many firsts tonight. Claude wants to give them to him as well, he wants to pour his heart out. He wants to give him back, but sometimes giving is done by taking, right? Sometimes it's a little bit twisted like that.
Someone taught him, once. He frowns. Picks up the other, unopened condom and holds it between both hands, momentarily uncertain of himself. He wants to take, but he doesn't know if it's right, to take. ]
Come. [ If nothing else, he remembers himself. He remembers the way Jean Louis said 'come' in the living room and mirrors it. Meanwhile, he holds out one arm, waving his hand a bit, come. ] I want you to give me a part of you, too.
[ Easing onto his side, he waits for Jean Louis to decide whether that part is going to be his cock or not, in his mouth or not, tonight or some other time. Again. ]
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Finally, Claude shakes himself out of it and glances down himself, where his spent cock is looking sad and slowly turning limp in the condom. Not good.
With a groan, he sits up and reaches down, easing the condom off, tying it up and uncaringly aiming it somewhere beyond the bed, throwing it without checking where it lands. Doesn't matter. It's done its job. Jean Louis has, too. He's been good. He's been amazing. ]
That was how deep you wanted to take me? [ A small pause, then softly - ] Deeper than anyone else has.
[ Slowly, he gets onto his knees, careful to extract himself from beneath Jean Louis gently and without colliding with anything too hard. He looks him over, the way he's sitting there, hard as rock and more patient than most men Claude has fucked. It's like that, apparently. Jean Louis Girard takes many firsts tonight. Claude wants to give them to him as well, he wants to pour his heart out. He wants to give him back, but sometimes giving is done by taking, right? Sometimes it's a little bit twisted like that.
Someone taught him, once. He frowns. Picks up the other, unopened condom and holds it between both hands, momentarily uncertain of himself. He wants to take, but he doesn't know if it's right, to take. ]
Come. [ If nothing else, he remembers himself. He remembers the way Jean Louis said 'come' in the living room and mirrors it. Meanwhile, he holds out one arm, waving his hand a bit, come. ] I want you to give me a part of you, too.
[ Easing onto his side, he waits for Jean Louis to decide whether that part is going to be his cock or not, in his mouth or not, tonight or some other time. Again. ]