[ You're doing it right, says Claude, both verbally and physically, thrusting into the circle of his hand and groaning. He gets his nipples again, palms spread out over the both of them and he can feel his cock leaking precum now, his balls incredibly tight. Now, he's definitely feeling all of his own arousal and with Claude against him, panting and grabbing at his hair, it feels like they're once again aligned. Step by step.
He won't get tired of that.
He breathes hard against the other man's lips when they kiss, noses bumping because that's how these things go and the water's getting in his eyes quite thoroughly. It makes the room feel smaller, somehow, the seemingly endless spray of water, Claude's body pressed up against him, like for a moment, there's not even an apartment on the other side of the shower curtain. There's nothing. The thought - the fantasy - makes him feel almost weightless, all aches in his body pushed completely to the background.
When Claude tells him what to do, he does it. Folding his other hand over their cocks, he rubs at them both, the sudden shock of pleasure making his toes curl and his breath catch. He keeps going, feeling Claude's muscles working against his own - legs, upper bodies - and then, suddenly, he's rushing towards it, his climax hitting him so abruptly that he actually moans out loud, knocking his forehead against the wall next to Claude's head none-too-gently. He doesn't stop even as he spends himself all over his hand, his cock pulsing hotly in his grip. Instead, he presses down more firmly along the head of Claude's cock. His voice comes out ragged, his French not as clean as usual, the individual sounds harsher: ]
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He won't get tired of that.
He breathes hard against the other man's lips when they kiss, noses bumping because that's how these things go and the water's getting in his eyes quite thoroughly. It makes the room feel smaller, somehow, the seemingly endless spray of water, Claude's body pressed up against him, like for a moment, there's not even an apartment on the other side of the shower curtain. There's nothing. The thought - the fantasy - makes him feel almost weightless, all aches in his body pushed completely to the background.
When Claude tells him what to do, he does it. Folding his other hand over their cocks, he rubs at them both, the sudden shock of pleasure making his toes curl and his breath catch. He keeps going, feeling Claude's muscles working against his own - legs, upper bodies - and then, suddenly, he's rushing towards it, his climax hitting him so abruptly that he actually moans out loud, knocking his forehead against the wall next to Claude's head none-too-gently. He doesn't stop even as he spends himself all over his hand, his cock pulsing hotly in his grip. Instead, he presses down more firmly along the head of Claude's cock. His voice comes out ragged, his French not as clean as usual, the individual sounds harsher: ]
Come on, Claude, come on...