[ It's beautiful, the way it happens. The way Jean Louis is gripping his head, the back of it, holding on, clinging, and the way he shifts and breathes and moans when Claude pushes his fingertips against his asshole, the way his cock fills and throbs on his tongue when he gives himself over, arching slightly against the bed, hips working, pushing, pushing and it's beautiful. It's really fucking beautiful.
And then, Jean Louis comes in his mouth, he didn't ask, but there's no need, Claude takes it, he swallows it down, he hasn't tasted cum in ages, he was wondering whether he'd still like it, the way he loved it back then, but he hadn't needed to worry, he fucking loves it, the whole experience, all sensory inputs at once, the feeling of Jean Louis hardening as he forces himself inside of him again and again, the sounds of him, moaning for it, and the feeling, everything tensing and his asshole twitching and the sweat of his inner thighs, it's all beautiful.
On top of that, add the sounds of Claude's own hand, jerking him off hard now, desperately drawing it out of himself. One moment he's swallowing, the next Jean Louis is empty and Claude pops his cock out of his mouth, staring unseeingly ahead, pressing his brow in against the other man's hipbone, feeling the hard curve of it, and he jerks himself off until he's following right along, coming all over the sheets, gasping, whining for it and having the taste of the other man slicking up the back of his tongue.
It's beautiful. This thing they share, whatever it is, whatever it's going to be, it's beautiful.
He gasps against Jean Louis' skin, kissing him, whatever he can reach, feeling his own climax dying down slowly and wanting nothing more than to snuggle up to him, feel his arm around his shoulders, around his body. Being held.
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And then, Jean Louis comes in his mouth, he didn't ask, but there's no need, Claude takes it, he swallows it down, he hasn't tasted cum in ages, he was wondering whether he'd still like it, the way he loved it back then, but he hadn't needed to worry, he fucking loves it, the whole experience, all sensory inputs at once, the feeling of Jean Louis hardening as he forces himself inside of him again and again, the sounds of him, moaning for it, and the feeling, everything tensing and his asshole twitching and the sweat of his inner thighs, it's all beautiful.
On top of that, add the sounds of Claude's own hand, jerking him off hard now, desperately drawing it out of himself. One moment he's swallowing, the next Jean Louis is empty and Claude pops his cock out of his mouth, staring unseeingly ahead, pressing his brow in against the other man's hipbone, feeling the hard curve of it, and he jerks himself off until he's following right along, coming all over the sheets, gasping, whining for it and having the taste of the other man slicking up the back of his tongue.
It's beautiful. This thing they share, whatever it is, whatever it's going to be, it's beautiful.
He gasps against Jean Louis' skin, kissing him, whatever he can reach, feeling his own climax dying down slowly and wanting nothing more than to snuggle up to him, feel his arm around his shoulders, around his body. Being held.
Wanting nothing more than that. Beautiful. ]