[ Claude follows him over the edge moments later, his arse clamping down around him, milking his cock for whatever's left and he groans, his shoulders trembling as he makes one, final thrust. Then, pause. Quiet, except for the sounds of their breaths mingling and the echoes of Claude's cry (he'll hear that when he masturbates for the next many, many days to come, that sound, just Claude letting go, allowing himself).
Slowly, carefully, he eases himself out of Claude's body, holding onto the condom with his free hand, the one that's got the imprints of Claude's breath and his cries and his bravery all over it. Rolling it off, tying it and trowing away takes seconds, seconds that he barely even notices - then, his breathing slow and heavy, he lies down next to Claude, up against his side, nudging Claude until he lies on his side with his back to him. Like that, he curls up around him, twists their legs together and pushes his face into his hair. You're precious, says Claude, pretty words that shouldn't mean anything to him. He's been many things in his life to many people; precious isn't one of them.
Invaluable, he says.
He takes a deep breath. Locks his arm around Claude's waist and reaches for the duvet blindly, managing to wrangle it from beneath them to throw it over Claude, first, himself second. He doesn't like to be covered completely when he sleeps, it makes him feel locked down.
Yes, he's been locked down (and thrown away) many times and logically, that's really not what you do to something precious or invaluable but Claude's not the type to lie so maybe he knows something else about the world, the strange world he inhabits. The rules are different there. It takes something he doesn't know about to live in it.
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Slowly, carefully, he eases himself out of Claude's body, holding onto the condom with his free hand, the one that's got the imprints of Claude's breath and his cries and his bravery all over it. Rolling it off, tying it and trowing away takes seconds, seconds that he barely even notices - then, his breathing slow and heavy, he lies down next to Claude, up against his side, nudging Claude until he lies on his side with his back to him. Like that, he curls up around him, twists their legs together and pushes his face into his hair. You're precious, says Claude, pretty words that shouldn't mean anything to him. He's been many things in his life to many people; precious isn't one of them.
Invaluable, he says.
He takes a deep breath. Locks his arm around Claude's waist and reaches for the duvet blindly, managing to wrangle it from beneath them to throw it over Claude, first, himself second. He doesn't like to be covered completely when he sleeps, it makes him feel locked down.
Yes, he's been locked down (and thrown away) many times and logically, that's really not what you do to something precious or invaluable but Claude's not the type to lie so maybe he knows something else about the world, the strange world he inhabits. The rules are different there. It takes something he doesn't know about to live in it.
For now, he'll accept that as truth. ]