[ They kiss. They kiss and it's good, it feels like proximity and closeness, it feels like Jean Louis taking up space in him, his tongue filling him just so, just right, and Claude moans into the kiss, once Jean Louis starts groaning again, showing his appreciation. His cock jerks, too and Claude gets caught up in it fast, centered squarely in his body for the time being, the way the other man reaches down - still kissing him, kissing him deep - and fingers his cock, the retracted foreskin and the bared head, Claude feeling arousal pounding through his system, his cock throbbing, his breath stumbling and his vision blurring a little around the edges. The steam in the room is like a curtain around them, a soft wall of distance to the real world. They're not part of that.
They're part of each other. Easier. Less shit to navigate, less complicated politics.
Pushing into Jean Louis' hand, feeling the topmost of his shaft slipping over the ball of the other man's hand, wet from water, but not exactly slick enough - trembling a bit against the rush of pleasure, teasing and edging him on, Claude bites Jean Louis' lower lip and catches it briefly between his own lips to lick over it, soothing the place he hit. His chest is heaving and his arms have ended up slung around the other man's shoulders, both of them, he seems fine now and Claude needs something to lean on, his knees feel a bit weak. It's that good. So good.
Still, not slick enough. No, not enough slick.
So, Claude pulls back from the kiss, glancing down between them where Jean Louis is playing him like a fiddle, releasing his hold on the other man's bad shoulder to reach down and catch Jean Louis' hand where he's touching him, fucking teasing him, waiting for him to release before he lifts his hand, smelling faintly of soap and even more faintly of Claude now, to his mouth and unceremoniously sucks first his index finger, then the one next to it into his mouth, slicking his fingers up. Continued down the length of his digits, to his palm, long wet strokes of his tongue. It tastes of him. Jean Louis tastes like him.
They're merging. ]
A helping hand.
[ He says, drawing back and smiling shakily, breathing uneven, too quick, telling on him. How hot he is for him. Claude leans in again and kisses him, licking into him immediately, deep on the mouth. It's almost aggressive, but only ever almost with him. ]
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They're part of each other. Easier. Less shit to navigate, less complicated politics.
Pushing into Jean Louis' hand, feeling the topmost of his shaft slipping over the ball of the other man's hand, wet from water, but not exactly slick enough - trembling a bit against the rush of pleasure, teasing and edging him on, Claude bites Jean Louis' lower lip and catches it briefly between his own lips to lick over it, soothing the place he hit. His chest is heaving and his arms have ended up slung around the other man's shoulders, both of them, he seems fine now and Claude needs something to lean on, his knees feel a bit weak. It's that good. So good.
Still, not slick enough. No, not enough slick.
So, Claude pulls back from the kiss, glancing down between them where Jean Louis is playing him like a fiddle, releasing his hold on the other man's bad shoulder to reach down and catch Jean Louis' hand where he's touching him, fucking teasing him, waiting for him to release before he lifts his hand, smelling faintly of soap and even more faintly of Claude now, to his mouth and unceremoniously sucks first his index finger, then the one next to it into his mouth, slicking his fingers up. Continued down the length of his digits, to his palm, long wet strokes of his tongue. It tastes of him. Jean Louis tastes like him.
They're merging. ]
A helping hand.
[ He says, drawing back and smiling shakily, breathing uneven, too quick, telling on him. How hot he is for him. Claude leans in again and kisses him, licking into him immediately, deep on the mouth. It's almost aggressive, but only ever almost with him. ]