[ Rolling him over onto his back, managing to somehow do it in a way that doesn't feel overpowering, but careful, caring, Jean Louis ends up on top of him, weight on his knees, keeping everything he brings off Claude's body, like Claude's burdens are his own to bear. No additions. No expectation of carrying what's Jean Louis' own. Claude likes that, he likes the implications of it - they're their own people, at the same time that they're each others'. Arms slipping up around Jean Louis' shoulders, grabbing him harder than he would normally, desperately, he pulls him in when the other man starts kissing his way up the side of his neck, jawline, ear. His nose is in Claude's curls and Claude turns his face to the side, opening up to him in the most physical way he can, without actively letting him into his body, expanding, widening, that kinda thing.
And how would you like to start, Jean Louis wants to know, assuming nothing and that means, it's Claude's call completely. Which means, he should make safe choices, he should start slow, let's frot, let's sixty-nine, maybe fingers, if he really insists on taking back his ass, reclaiming that part of himself, but maybe that's the point. Claude has never been the type to go slow and not take risks, would he be a politician at all, if he didn't - the thing with Rainier was plenty proof, but not everyone he sleeps with is Rainier and not every risk is not calculated, is not considered and not every risk won't yield a success, once taken, once run.
Because what happened with Rainier didn't happen because of any risk Claude ran. It happened because of the wrong decisions Rainier made, not the other way around.
He breathes out slowly, easily, slightly shakily, feeling Jean Louis close, feeling the outline of his nose, feeling the soft moistness of his lips. His body knows these things, his mind knows them, his heart does. He doesn't have to be afraid of making wrong calls here, because whatever call he makes, he makes them for himself and they're his own. In a way that suits you, no one else, Jean Louis said.
Well, this suits him. His cock is already starting to fill, hardening slightly between his legs. He shifts, turns his face back in against the side of the other man's face, lips close to his ear, not nibbling, but saying: ]
I want you to fuck me.
[ It's slow, deliberate, every word drawn out for a moment. Oratory techniques or whatever. Claude swallows and licks his lips, adding, because while he takes risks, he also knows how far to go, what safety measures to insist on. Problematizing doing anal for the first time in seven years in his mother's house of all places is not something to insist on. Prep, however, is. ]
There's lube and condoms in my washbag. You're free to go rummage or I can do it.
no subject
And how would you like to start, Jean Louis wants to know, assuming nothing and that means, it's Claude's call completely. Which means, he should make safe choices, he should start slow, let's frot, let's sixty-nine, maybe fingers, if he really insists on taking back his ass, reclaiming that part of himself, but maybe that's the point. Claude has never been the type to go slow and not take risks, would he be a politician at all, if he didn't - the thing with Rainier was plenty proof, but not everyone he sleeps with is Rainier and not every risk is not calculated, is not considered and not every risk won't yield a success, once taken, once run.
Because what happened with Rainier didn't happen because of any risk Claude ran. It happened because of the wrong decisions Rainier made, not the other way around.
He breathes out slowly, easily, slightly shakily, feeling Jean Louis close, feeling the outline of his nose, feeling the soft moistness of his lips. His body knows these things, his mind knows them, his heart does. He doesn't have to be afraid of making wrong calls here, because whatever call he makes, he makes them for himself and they're his own. In a way that suits you, no one else, Jean Louis said.
Well, this suits him. His cock is already starting to fill, hardening slightly between his legs. He shifts, turns his face back in against the side of the other man's face, lips close to his ear, not nibbling, but saying: ]
I want you to fuck me.
[ It's slow, deliberate, every word drawn out for a moment. Oratory techniques or whatever. Claude swallows and licks his lips, adding, because while he takes risks, he also knows how far to go, what safety measures to insist on. Problematizing doing anal for the first time in seven years in his mother's house of all places is not something to insist on. Prep, however, is. ]
There's lube and condoms in my washbag. You're free to go rummage or I can do it.