[ He hears it. He hears it in the way Jean Louis' breath trembles out of him, how much he likes the concept, the idea of it, how much he wants it. And because men are raised to take what they want, also in a way women aren't, maybe Claude would have expected something like, what are you waiting for, do it or similar variations over the same theme. He'd have expected enthusiastic -- maybe not even consent, just a plain command. But because Jean Louis isn't Rainier, because Jean Louis is unlike all men that Claude has met, and he's met his share, that isn't what happens. What happens is as following: Jean Louis looks up at him, their uneven (unequal) positions of height right now apparent between them, and he says... He says...
This time it's Claude's breath, stumbling from him and his cock, jerking against his abdomen, so he has to reach down and steady it, just a thumb beneath the shaft, squeeze, stay, behave. Breathless and hit by an acute surge of arousal, Claude meets Jean Louis' eyes and smiles, softly, slowly leveling himself down onto his level again, though he stays on his knees, he'll need the support in a moment. He'll need the support when he's going to suck him off within a fucking inch of his life, which is very much what he'd like to do right now. Supporting himself with a hand next to the other man's shoulder, he leans in and presses his lips softly to first Jean Louis' forehead, right above his brow, then the corner of his mouth. ]
It's not about having to, it's about wanting to. I've wanted to taste you properly for a while.
[ And, while he gently presses his free hand to the middle of Jean Louis' chest, urging him to roll onto his back completely, because the non-question he asked had a question mark at the tail end of it, sure, but also an unmistakable sense of yes and please and fuck, he leans in over him, his torse like a weight, like a blanket, a shadow over his olive skin, kissing his way down along the side of his neck, soft pressure of his lips, wet, puffs of air. Claude can feel him like that. Close.
His heart is racing. He hasn't sucked cock without a condom since Rainier. And he doesn't want Rainier's taste to be the last that clung to his tastebuds. He doesn't want Rainier to be the last man that came in his mouth, that he swallowed.
Because, shit, he always loved sucking cock. And he wants to love sucking Jean Louis' even more than he already has loved it, does love it.
His own cock's throbbing at the thought.
Moving down along the slope of Jean Louis' chest at a slow pace, he halts briefly by his right nipple, sucking it in between his lips, rubbing the whole length of his tongue, wet and warm, over it, feeling it tighten, harden, like other things. ]
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This time it's Claude's breath, stumbling from him and his cock, jerking against his abdomen, so he has to reach down and steady it, just a thumb beneath the shaft, squeeze, stay, behave. Breathless and hit by an acute surge of arousal, Claude meets Jean Louis' eyes and smiles, softly, slowly leveling himself down onto his level again, though he stays on his knees, he'll need the support in a moment. He'll need the support when he's going to suck him off within a fucking inch of his life, which is very much what he'd like to do right now. Supporting himself with a hand next to the other man's shoulder, he leans in and presses his lips softly to first Jean Louis' forehead, right above his brow, then the corner of his mouth. ]
It's not about having to, it's about wanting to. I've wanted to taste you properly for a while.
[ And, while he gently presses his free hand to the middle of Jean Louis' chest, urging him to roll onto his back completely, because the non-question he asked had a question mark at the tail end of it, sure, but also an unmistakable sense of yes and please and fuck, he leans in over him, his torse like a weight, like a blanket, a shadow over his olive skin, kissing his way down along the side of his neck, soft pressure of his lips, wet, puffs of air. Claude can feel him like that. Close.
His heart is racing. He hasn't sucked cock without a condom since Rainier. And he doesn't want Rainier's taste to be the last that clung to his tastebuds. He doesn't want Rainier to be the last man that came in his mouth, that he swallowed.
Because, shit, he always loved sucking cock. And he wants to love sucking Jean Louis' even more than he already has loved it, does love it.
His own cock's throbbing at the thought.
Moving down along the slope of Jean Louis' chest at a slow pace, he halts briefly by his right nipple, sucking it in between his lips, rubbing the whole length of his tongue, wet and warm, over it, feeling it tighten, harden, like other things. ]