[ Claude disappears briefly, then returns, slipping into the shower next to him and crowding him up a little against the back. Suddenly, Jean Louis appreciates the relative lack of space all the more - within no time at all, they're flush up against each other, Claude's naked front pressed to his, and he's definitely getting properly wet, the spray laying his curls flat within seconds. He looks great, all soaked and shiny from the water - for a moment, Jean Louis just flips one arm around his waist and pulls him in, looking him over at the same time and taking in the sights while the other man reaches over him to right the spray.
He's a nice, heavy weight against him. Whether horizontal or vertical, he's quickly deciding that this is his favourite way to be positioned with him; up against, close, feeling the weight of his body. It makes his mind pause, somehow, not stop but slow down. Nicer than nicotine, definitely. Much nicer. When Claude lays his hand against his shoulder, the ache deep within his bones grows duller, his focus caught on the feeling of the other man's palm against his skin, rather than whatever's happening beneath it. He smiles and leans in to nuzzle his neck in turn, that small kiss beneath his ear lingering even in its own absence. ]
Am I the evil witch, then, or the terrible step-mother?
[ Slowly, he runs both hands up Claude's narrow waist, over the small of his back before going down instead. He flattens his palms against his buttocks, kneading them. They're a great balance between firm muscle and soft skin and though he doesn't go as far as to spread them apart, not knowing what Claude actually prefers and doesn't, he does grab them. To show his appreciation.
His cock joins in seconds later, hardening against Claude's inner thigh. His next exhale is slightly jagged as he searches out Claude's shoulder with his lips, mouthing at him wetly and getting water all over his face as a consequence. It's good. It's all very good. As he bends down, his back predictably complains but it feels fainter, somehow, like the smell of the other man, well-known now if not yet familiar, and the feel of his body masks his awareness of his own body. It's odd but appreciated.
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He's a nice, heavy weight against him. Whether horizontal or vertical, he's quickly deciding that this is his favourite way to be positioned with him; up against, close, feeling the weight of his body. It makes his mind pause, somehow, not stop but slow down. Nicer than nicotine, definitely. Much nicer. When Claude lays his hand against his shoulder, the ache deep within his bones grows duller, his focus caught on the feeling of the other man's palm against his skin, rather than whatever's happening beneath it. He smiles and leans in to nuzzle his neck in turn, that small kiss beneath his ear lingering even in its own absence. ]
Am I the evil witch, then, or the terrible step-mother?
[ Slowly, he runs both hands up Claude's narrow waist, over the small of his back before going down instead. He flattens his palms against his buttocks, kneading them. They're a great balance between firm muscle and soft skin and though he doesn't go as far as to spread them apart, not knowing what Claude actually prefers and doesn't, he does grab them. To show his appreciation.
His cock joins in seconds later, hardening against Claude's inner thigh. His next exhale is slightly jagged as he searches out Claude's shoulder with his lips, mouthing at him wetly and getting water all over his face as a consequence. It's good. It's all very good. As he bends down, his back predictably complains but it feels fainter, somehow, like the smell of the other man, well-known now if not yet familiar, and the feel of his body masks his awareness of his own body. It's odd but appreciated.
Another type of bread-crumbs, one might say. ]