[ The thing is, Claude's apartment is big - especially for a mid-Paris affair, but besides the bathroom and his office which is in the only separate bedroom, turn left when you exit the bathroom, the whole apartment is pretty much one big space, open kitchen concept with a large living/dining rooom and the small bedroom he's managed to create by the end wall, where he's put his bed. It's an incredible elegant, mahogany, dark wood thing with the headboard made from a rustic piece of driftwood, polished into a shining, smooth surface of browns and black veins. He bought the wood off a seller at a nearby market and had one of his sisters' artist friends work his wonders on it. It's the jewel of the room, no doubt about it, small and simple as it is, separated from the living room only with a thin, "oriental", antique screen divider.
There are bedside lamps on the bedside tables, also mahogany, on either side of the bed and a clothes rack, bought at an old men's fashion store outlet, in the upper right corner for his daily wear, some of his sisters' best works on the green-painted walls, a warm moss green. Céline's big, bright sun above the headboard and Catherine's small, "unknown" orange signs in a line, framed in square glass frames on the right.
On the left, the big, mahogany closet.
All of it, the darkness and the softness, is very soothing. No windows in here, you gotta go sit on the sofa for any view but sleeping, possibly naked bodies. Which is, incidentally, what they are going for right now. Not so much sleeping, but definitely naked.
Jean Louis is already there, reclining on his back, spread out nude across Claude's cream sheets. He looks like a fucking Greek god that way and Claude has been waiting for him to finish up in the shower exactly for this reason, because he knew what was waiting on the other end - the blowjob he promised him, the skin, the closeness. Once he heard him pat through the living room to get to the bedroom, Claude had left his office, tie long since discarded and jacket thrown over the chair in there. Now he's down to his trousers, chest bare, hair slightly ruffled, curls everywhere while he watches Jean Louis through heavy-lidded eyes, holding his gaze as he undoes his belt, his zipper, pushes the trousers down over his hips, thighs, drops them to the floor. Steps out of them. Bare feet naked against the softness of the brown-beige-white woven carpet beneath the bed. He pushes the fabric aside uncaringly, naked to his briefs now. He's well on the way to hard already. With a smile, slightly loop-sided, he unhooks his underwear as well, it goes the same way as the trousers.
Only then does he crawl onto the bed, stretching out next to the other man and looking down at him, resting his weight on one elbow, cheek supported by his palm. ]
Keeping your word - yay or nay?
[ Do you want me to suck you off, it means. And out of bed, in politics, do we live up to our promises or do we run? It means, please don't let me run. ]
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There are bedside lamps on the bedside tables, also mahogany, on either side of the bed and a clothes rack, bought at an old men's fashion store outlet, in the upper right corner for his daily wear, some of his sisters' best works on the green-painted walls, a warm moss green. Céline's big, bright sun above the headboard and Catherine's small, "unknown" orange signs in a line, framed in square glass frames on the right.
On the left, the big, mahogany closet.
All of it, the darkness and the softness, is very soothing. No windows in here, you gotta go sit on the sofa for any view but sleeping, possibly naked bodies. Which is, incidentally, what they are going for right now. Not so much sleeping, but definitely naked.
Jean Louis is already there, reclining on his back, spread out nude across Claude's cream sheets. He looks like a fucking Greek god that way and Claude has been waiting for him to finish up in the shower exactly for this reason, because he knew what was waiting on the other end - the blowjob he promised him, the skin, the closeness. Once he heard him pat through the living room to get to the bedroom, Claude had left his office, tie long since discarded and jacket thrown over the chair in there. Now he's down to his trousers, chest bare, hair slightly ruffled, curls everywhere while he watches Jean Louis through heavy-lidded eyes, holding his gaze as he undoes his belt, his zipper, pushes the trousers down over his hips, thighs, drops them to the floor. Steps out of them. Bare feet naked against the softness of the brown-beige-white woven carpet beneath the bed. He pushes the fabric aside uncaringly, naked to his briefs now. He's well on the way to hard already. With a smile, slightly loop-sided, he unhooks his underwear as well, it goes the same way as the trousers.
Only then does he crawl onto the bed, stretching out next to the other man and looking down at him, resting his weight on one elbow, cheek supported by his palm. ]
Keeping your word - yay or nay?
[ Do you want me to suck you off, it means. And out of bed, in politics, do we live up to our promises or do we run? It means, please don't let me run. ]