[ Turning his head in against Claude, their mouths find each other and Jean Louis is kissing him, pressing in between his lips and it's so fucking smooth, so effortless and Claude is feeling dizzy just from the pace of it, how fast they're going. He likes fast. He likes dangerous. This feels dangerous, but also familiar at the same time, and he's aching for that exact combination of elements. He's looking to be pulled into that reality, the dark, looming thing standing over Jean Louis, guarding his back, though honestly Claude is beginning to think there isn't really anyone who has Jean Louis' back, not in politics, not in whatever else he's got going for him.
Claude knows, perhaps by choice, though most people would never choose that, would they, that Jean Louis is alone. Well, as alone as you can be when you've got Claude latched onto your lips, sucking on your tongue, biting your full lower lip.
That alone, never more than that. Claude won't allow it.
He groans as the other man pulls out of the kiss and sinks down on his knees fully, on perfect crotch-height and Claude feels more than he actually notices that his cock is filling a little. He breathes in shakily as Jean Louis doesn't ask, but implores, maybe there's a hint of begging to that, although there's no question mark, and leans back in the chair, spreading his legs more, invitingly, showing himself off.
Opening up. Take me, it means. Take this instead.
The petty, still overly worried part of him wants to ask if he doesn't let Jean Louis do enough already, if they won't reach a point of consequence eventually, a borderline not to be crossed, but his body doesn't care and his cock is very quickly half-hard, so Claude leans forward a little, running one hand through Jean Louis' hair again, caressing the back of his head. You give too much of yourself, his mother had texted him angrily earlier. Claude had told her, like any good socialist, there is no 'too much', only the amount that people need to live. That's the limit. There. Hearing himself breathing in shakily, he smiles and stretches enough to kiss the other man's temple, before sprawling back in the chair fully. ]
Please do.
[ You give too much of yourself.
No, Maman. If he gave enough, he wouldn't doubt it, this moment between them, he wouldn't doubt Jean Louis, he wouldn't doubt himself. Wouldn't wonder why he wants to give Jean Louis so much of himself that he'll never need to own anything else again, ever.
Since that's apparently a fucking challenge, yeah, with such a fucking liberal witch. ]
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Claude knows, perhaps by choice, though most people would never choose that, would they, that Jean Louis is alone. Well, as alone as you can be when you've got Claude latched onto your lips, sucking on your tongue, biting your full lower lip.
That alone, never more than that. Claude won't allow it.
He groans as the other man pulls out of the kiss and sinks down on his knees fully, on perfect crotch-height and Claude feels more than he actually notices that his cock is filling a little. He breathes in shakily as Jean Louis doesn't ask, but implores, maybe there's a hint of begging to that, although there's no question mark, and leans back in the chair, spreading his legs more, invitingly, showing himself off.
Opening up. Take me, it means. Take this instead.
The petty, still overly worried part of him wants to ask if he doesn't let Jean Louis do enough already, if they won't reach a point of consequence eventually, a borderline not to be crossed, but his body doesn't care and his cock is very quickly half-hard, so Claude leans forward a little, running one hand through Jean Louis' hair again, caressing the back of his head. You give too much of yourself, his mother had texted him angrily earlier. Claude had told her, like any good socialist, there is no 'too much', only the amount that people need to live. That's the limit. There. Hearing himself breathing in shakily, he smiles and stretches enough to kiss the other man's temple, before sprawling back in the chair fully. ]
Please do.
[ You give too much of yourself.
No, Maman. If he gave enough, he wouldn't doubt it, this moment between them, he wouldn't doubt Jean Louis, he wouldn't doubt himself. Wouldn't wonder why he wants to give Jean Louis so much of himself that he'll never need to own anything else again, ever.
Since that's apparently a fucking challenge, yeah, with such a fucking liberal witch. ]