[ He makes a low sound against Claude's lips as the other man runs his fingers through his hair, the familiar motion calming - like smoothing down, putting things in order. Claude pushes up against his fingers, clearly saying more, give it, fuck me, and it's good to know they're on the right track, that he's leading them in the exact right direction. That's the kind of luxury leadership is rarely afforded, isn't it. That certainty. In that way, perhaps Claude is right that consent is important, not just in terms of re-routing gender roles and taking down power structures (Jean Louis is all in favour of that, so long as the power stays where he wants it so that's probably not quite what the man's got in mind) - but it's a gift the other way, too.
He breaks the kiss, panting slightly, nearly soundlessly. Looking at Claude, his hand curved over his other buttock, he finally untangles his hand from within his briefs and pulls at the hem, nudging them down over his hips, giving Claude time to work with him, to adjust himself and his hard cock accordingly. The briefs slide down his thighs and Jean Louis gets on his knees to work them off the rest of the way. Dropping them on the floor by the bed, he turns back to the other man, looking over the long, soft lines of his legs, thighs, arse - and upwards, all the way to his shoulders and his curls and the beautiful lines of his face. Treasure, he'd called him earlier in the evening. Like this, it's blatantly obvious.
Breathing coming out a bit shaky on his next exhalation, he shifts onto his side once more, lies down next to Claude but keeps himself propped up on his elbow for balance. With the other hand, he picks up the lube and squeezes some onto his palm, rubbing his fingers together briefly to warm it. ]
Shame that you can't be loud.
[ He leans down, kissing the back of Claude's head, lips slipping into his hair. ]
Let me know if I'm doing something wrong.
[ With that, he runs two, slick fingers down the crack of Claude's arse, pressing his fingertips in along the soft skin there, from right beneath his tailbone to his opening and a few inches beneath it, too. He draws his fingers upwards again, pausing over the rim of his arsehole this time and pressing inwards very slightly, not really enough to penetrate. He feels the tightness of him, the heat. His breath trembles out of him and he shifts, the tension in his balls quite hard to ignore at this point.
Leaning down, he pushes his lips against the back of Claude's neck with just enough pressure to signal down, and it isn't really an order - rather, it's a recommendation, perhaps, or guidance because seconds later, he presses the full length of his index finger into him, feeling his arsehole stretching easily around it. He sinks in all the way to the last knuckle, slowly, mindful of any resistance. ]
no subject
He breaks the kiss, panting slightly, nearly soundlessly. Looking at Claude, his hand curved over his other buttock, he finally untangles his hand from within his briefs and pulls at the hem, nudging them down over his hips, giving Claude time to work with him, to adjust himself and his hard cock accordingly. The briefs slide down his thighs and Jean Louis gets on his knees to work them off the rest of the way. Dropping them on the floor by the bed, he turns back to the other man, looking over the long, soft lines of his legs, thighs, arse - and upwards, all the way to his shoulders and his curls and the beautiful lines of his face. Treasure, he'd called him earlier in the evening. Like this, it's blatantly obvious.
Breathing coming out a bit shaky on his next exhalation, he shifts onto his side once more, lies down next to Claude but keeps himself propped up on his elbow for balance. With the other hand, he picks up the lube and squeezes some onto his palm, rubbing his fingers together briefly to warm it. ]
Shame that you can't be loud.
[ He leans down, kissing the back of Claude's head, lips slipping into his hair. ]
Let me know if I'm doing something wrong.
[ With that, he runs two, slick fingers down the crack of Claude's arse, pressing his fingertips in along the soft skin there, from right beneath his tailbone to his opening and a few inches beneath it, too. He draws his fingers upwards again, pausing over the rim of his arsehole this time and pressing inwards very slightly, not really enough to penetrate. He feels the tightness of him, the heat. His breath trembles out of him and he shifts, the tension in his balls quite hard to ignore at this point.
Leaning down, he pushes his lips against the back of Claude's neck with just enough pressure to signal down, and it isn't really an order - rather, it's a recommendation, perhaps, or guidance because seconds later, he presses the full length of his index finger into him, feeling his arsehole stretching easily around it. He sinks in all the way to the last knuckle, slowly, mindful of any resistance. ]