[ Claude moves with him, beneath him and around him. It's all-consuming. Eyes shut and breathing hard, Jean Louis follows his movements and does it again - and again - keeping the angle somewhat consistent while he feels his body building up faster and faster. Claude's holding his own cock, he can sense it from the angle of his shoulder and he's not going to make him let go, he's going to let him take his own pleasure the way he wants - however, the noise he's making in this old house with its tiny rooms is a different story. He likes listening to it. He'd like to touch it even better.
So, as he fucks into Claude, burying deep and pushing them both towards the edge without rushing, just doing what works, he folds his hand sloppily around Claude's mouth and chin, muffling his sounds. He kisses him along the side of his face, his temple and his cheekbone, breathing raggedly. ]
Now, Claude. [ He shifts. Kisses the bridge of Claude's nose. ] Be as loud as you want.
[ He takes a deep breath, angles himself properly and drives into him, hard enough to make the bed shake and the floor whine beneath them. The sudden increase in friction, the power of his thrusts, makes his balls tighten up to the point of pain. He ignores it. It's the edge and they're going over it, not with him dragging Claude like Rainier would have done, he would have pushed him and kicked him towards it and what a boring exercise that must have been. What a boring little man. No, he's not dragging Claude at all, he's running with him and for some reason, the thought of Claude taking his hand and just holding it pops into his mind, front and center; the way he does at seemingly random times throughout the day like it's perfectly normal, like anyone's ever done that before -
He gasps. Buries his head in Claude's shoulder by his neck, open-mouthed, teeth scraping over his shoulder as he spends himself on the next thrust, his climax sweeping over him so violently that he can't breathe for it. ]
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So, as he fucks into Claude, burying deep and pushing them both towards the edge without rushing, just doing what works, he folds his hand sloppily around Claude's mouth and chin, muffling his sounds. He kisses him along the side of his face, his temple and his cheekbone, breathing raggedly. ]
Now, Claude. [ He shifts. Kisses the bridge of Claude's nose. ] Be as loud as you want.
[ He takes a deep breath, angles himself properly and drives into him, hard enough to make the bed shake and the floor whine beneath them. The sudden increase in friction, the power of his thrusts, makes his balls tighten up to the point of pain. He ignores it. It's the edge and they're going over it, not with him dragging Claude like Rainier would have done, he would have pushed him and kicked him towards it and what a boring exercise that must have been. What a boring little man. No, he's not dragging Claude at all, he's running with him and for some reason, the thought of Claude taking his hand and just holding it pops into his mind, front and center; the way he does at seemingly random times throughout the day like it's perfectly normal, like anyone's ever done that before -
He gasps. Buries his head in Claude's shoulder by his neck, open-mouthed, teeth scraping over his shoulder as he spends himself on the next thrust, his climax sweeping over him so violently that he can't breathe for it. ]