[ Claude proceeds to... lean in close once more and kiss him, but not in any way that makes sense (as in, on the mouth, tongue first). Instead, he kisses him so softly that it makes him blink, several times in a row, staring at the contours of the other man's face. Forehead. The corner of his mouth. Just that soft press of his lips and the heat of him. For a long moment, he can't even think about how aroused he is, about the promise of Claude's mouth around his naked cock; instead, this strange adventure of Claude's lips, finding their own little key spots on his face, goes into the mental pile of I don't know what this is but I want it, along with the pink teddy bear Claude gave away to the tiny girl and the way he entangles their fingers, even when they're both cold and the heat barely transfers as a byproduct.
Senseless, ridiculous things.
Wordlessly, he follows along as Claude urges him onto his back. Lying down, he shifts a little against the mattress, feeling the grounding solidity of the bed - the frame, firm against the floor and the floor, too, firm as the building and the walls around them. He leans his head back for a moment as Claude moves above him, before he realises that it feels wrong (too much, too naked) to lie on his back without being able to see him. He raises himself slightly onto his elbows instead, looking down as Claude licks his way down his chest, tonguing one nipple and making his skin prickle from the feel of it.
Eyes narrowing as he watches, Jean Louis curls his right hand against the back of Claude's head, running his fingers slowly through his hair. He doesn't urge him downwards or pull at him, not while he's still got enough blood left in his head to think. Claude, he thinks, must have a plan. Something he wants, something he'd like.
It's an easy thing, then, to simply follow along. ]
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Senseless, ridiculous things.
Wordlessly, he follows along as Claude urges him onto his back. Lying down, he shifts a little against the mattress, feeling the grounding solidity of the bed - the frame, firm against the floor and the floor, too, firm as the building and the walls around them. He leans his head back for a moment as Claude moves above him, before he realises that it feels wrong (too much, too naked) to lie on his back without being able to see him. He raises himself slightly onto his elbows instead, looking down as Claude licks his way down his chest, tonguing one nipple and making his skin prickle from the feel of it.
Eyes narrowing as he watches, Jean Louis curls his right hand against the back of Claude's head, running his fingers slowly through his hair. He doesn't urge him downwards or pull at him, not while he's still got enough blood left in his head to think. Claude, he thinks, must have a plan. Something he wants, something he'd like.
It's an easy thing, then, to simply follow along. ]