nowheretowns: (10)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-20 04:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Claude turns towards him and takes the box, his eyes shining in the sparse light from the bedside table lamp and Jean Louis watches him as he opens it, likes it, and feels just a little lighter everywhere all throughout. It's nice when you succeed at what you want to do. When you run a risk and it's worth it, the value comes back doubled or more. Claude's expression along with his words, his slight breathlessness - it's perfect. He smiles slightly before reaching for the box, putting it on the bedside table. ]

It was luck.

[ He looks at the other man, on his stomach now, the duvet pulled up to the small of his back, his back strong-looking, the kind that says healthy and young. He knows what his own says - it's why the scarring's getting covered in artwork as soon as it's healed up enough not to worsen by it. Claude needs no such theatre to be whole. It's just the way he is.

Getting into bed next to him and shifting onto his side, facing him, Jean Louis gives into the impulse right beneath his skin and reaches for him, running his hand down the back of his neck, along the width of his shoulders. He moves slowly, without any kind of hurry. It's no longer late, after all. It's early. They have hours to go before sunrise. He doesn't know whether Claude wants to simply sleep - it's his mother's house, after all, who can say - but everything, even something that ends with nothing, has a start. ]


Luck, and a very insistent street vendor. [ His voice is low, to fit the small space around them, the bubble that's once again closing in, keeping their surroundings out. ] It's a family heirloom, I'm told - passed along for decades. Eventually, however, the line came to an end and its previous owner no longer had anyone to give it to - according to him, no one alive or deserving.

[ He runs his hand over Claude's back, fingers following the curve of his spine downwards. ]

They value change, he said, amongst themselves. It seemed fitting.
nowheretowns: (Default)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-20 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The mood... shifts. It doesn't change, not like that - for instance, it doesn't slip into a more sexually heated mode, something he might've expected. Instead, they seem to drift closer somehow, like the air between them grows tighter, even as Claude shifts out of his grip partially, holding his hand close before pressing it to his hip. He notices, of course, as he has every time they've had sex - that Claude seems reluctant around his arse, that he indulges Jean Louis' appreciation for it without encouraging anything beyond that and he's drawn his own conclusions, mostly centering around the fact that people are different, have different tastes and he doesn't need anal sex in his life to be content, not at all.

He thinks about the light in Claude's eyes, the warmth, and his hand curls tighter against his hip.

Then, Claude looks up at him, the two of them front to front now, and tells him that there's something he needs to know, his words faltering as he swallows, clears his throat, all of those communicational tics that you learn not to exhibit in their line of work. He doesn't, usually. Claude is a very, very good orator. But now, he needs to tell Jean Louis something and that something sticks in his throat in a way that cripples him, visibly. Consent, he thinks as Claude pauses, that bill is about consent and a part of him tightens from anger before he even knows where they're headed. ]


Personal.

[ He sees a few options, none of them acceptable. But this is Claude's story and Jean Louis has never had a hard time listening to others. Under different circumstances, it's a great way to gain information without having to trade anything back - that said (and as a direct consequence), normally he's not particularly emotionally invested in what's being shared.

Right now, he has to very consciously force himself to allow Claude the space to himself, his voice perhaps a little bit too quiet, a little bit too still as he just adds: ]


How so?
nowheretowns: (7)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-20 06:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He listens and Claude talks. Though logically, his story isn't particularly long, listening without interrupting, without letting his emotions overrun the gradually shrinking physical space between them is like walking on foot with a million miles to your next destination. His hands clench and un-clench at intervals, grabbing the hem of Claude's briefs with his fingertips and pinching the fabric to avoid pinching him. As he listens, he realises two things at once; obviously, Claude's French teacher needs to die - he needed to die many years ago, before he'd ever got the chance to make Claude feel this way about himself. But more than that, he suddenly, abruptly, understands. The puzzle finishes itself, the questions he's had regarding Claude's reluctance to self-indulge, to trust his own wants and needs answered.

Though the other man doesn't say it, underneath many of his sentences, spoken with a shaky breath and words that clearly hurt him from where they start to where they finish, he hears one, simple, perceived truth: I am the kind of person who is wrong.

Eyes slowly narrowing to slits as Claude trails off, the silence between them stretching on for seconds, one after the other, he finally just flattens his hand against the small of his back, nudging him inwards the rest of way, until they're pressed up against each other on the bed, their legs entangled and Claude's chin poking his shoulder. He can feel the other man's breath, the tension in his body. He thinks about Rainier and how he'd like to end him. It's not the physical, living body that's the worst, though - that part is easy. It's the one stuck inside Claude's head, in his body, like that nasty old pervert somehow managed to clone himself by his pitiful actions - to breed, to infect.

Yes, such a thing is infinitely harder to kill. ]


Indeed, you must do what you can to eradicate him.

[ He says it without much inflection in his voice, without harshness or drama. It's a fact. He treats it as such. ]

And what he's managed to eradicate, you re-built in a way that suits you. Only you, no one else. [ He runs his other hand through Claude's curls slowly, fingertips gliding over his scalp, careful not to pull. ] No one else.
Edited 2023-10-20 18:44 (UTC)
nowheretowns: (4)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-20 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Claude pushes in against him, audibly breathing him in and pressing his hands to his chest, fingers spread out, taking up space. There's a desperation to it, to his movements, that makes perfect sense and consequently, Jean Louis doesn't move, simply supports him - hand in his hair, hand against his back. From this exact point in time, he'll need the other man to take the next step for them; he could do it, certainly, Jean Louis, but as has been the case with Claude since meeting him for the first time, he... worries about setting the wrong pace or picking the wrong track with him. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing you can re-trace or delete.

Just as Claude carries Rainier's mistakes with him even now, even here, he would carry Jean Louis' as well. If he were to stoop.

Like he told Camille, he doesn't gamble with his treasures.

After a moment, Claude pushes his face against the side of his neck and he's clearly been crying if he isn't still, though he isn't doing so audibly. The thought makes his chest tighten, though he never cries himself; there's something about seeing it in others, the helplessness associated with tears that he doesn't like. Claude's breathing sounds ragged, though when he leans in and parts his lips over Jean Louis' throat, it feels equal parts hot and wet. Jean Louis looks at him, frowning slightly. I'm starting now, he says and there's pain in his voice, still, along with certainty, something that feels strong and unyielding, traits that are also Claude's to a fault.

He looks at Claude for another moment through the shadows. Then, carefully, he rolls Claude onto his back on the bed, moving with him, until they're once again front to front. He keeps his balance on his knees to avoid putting all his weight on the other man and leans in, kissing his way up the side of his neck slowly. ]


And how would you like to start?

[ He nibbles at Claude's ear, his curls tickling his nose. Jean Louis breathes him in, in turn. ]
nowheretowns: (11)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 09:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ He can feel Claude falling back into place beneath him, the tension in his body seemingly changing, becoming... softer, pliant, perhaps. It's contagious. The tension that's hung in his muscles and mind the whole day and evening as a lead-up and a follow-up both to his Italian Christmas conversation is slipping slowly but surely into the background. He thinks about Claude opening the small box - like you'd known me for years, he'd said. A resounding success, surely, if that's what he wanted to achieve by it and he's slowly coming to realise that around Claude, he's never completely sure. Does he want approval? Affection? Compliance? All answers seem too simple, somehow.

As he gets to his feet to rummage, however, he thinks that maybe all of this is it. The gift. Claude's expression. The tear tracks still faintly visible on his cheeks. The feel of him, pressed against his front, holding on because for some reason, the man's seen a place of safety within him when in reality, there's nothing there at all.

But Jean Louis wants the illusion of it.

He finds lube and condoms after a few seconds, weighing them in his hand briefly. Claude wants to be fucked and certainly, he's happy to oblige - his cock, in particular, is getting a bit ahead of itself, more than half-way hard and straining against the silk of his bottoms. But another part of him, one that never fails to think no matter how high his arousal goes, keeps remembering the wetness in Claude's voice, the pain. It doesn't frighten him, of course, pain never has. But it makes him alert.

Pay attention. ]


Roll over.

[ He straightens, facing the bed and Claude who looks a little small against it all of a sudden. Yes, he'd be easy to break, particularly now that someone else has already fractured his foundation - then again, such fractures can be filled and depending on how you do it, they can be strengthened beyond their original capabilities, too. Depending on how. He steps closer, keeping his bottoms on for now and waits for Claude to lie down and get properly comfortable. He unscrews the lid on the lube, tossing it backwards without looking, straight into the open washbag.

Perfect aim in all things, thank you. ]
nowheretowns: (6)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 10:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ He quirks an eyebrow. ]

Some.

[ Concerning both the spoken question and the underlying one - he's got experience enough, he'd say, for the two of them. It's not even a matter of experience, really, experience has become a secondary gain from an inherent necessity. From he was very young taking leadership has simply been a given (if not him, then no one) and fortunately, it comes naturally to him. In bed and out of bed. He joins Claude on the bed, lying down on his side once more, stretching out next to him and entwining their feet. His own are slightly cool from the floorboards and Claude, on the other hand, is warm from the duvet and the bed and from crawling into Jean Louis' space. They go together perfectly like that.

As he lies down on his elbow, their faces are inches away. He runs his fingers across Claude's cheek, jawline. Tilts his head upwards slightly by the chin and kisses him, his breathing slow and even against the other man's lips. He spreads his other hand over the small of Claude's back, brushing over the skin there before pushing his fingers beneath the hem of his briefs and running the full width of his palm down his left buttock. He massages him slowly, fingertips slipping slightly into the cleft of his arse, brushing over his arsehole briefly, feather-light. He's burning hot there, a little damp from sweat, and his cock jerks against his thigh, not just eager but fucking impatient.

He ignores it and slips his tongue past Claude's lips, taking his mouth instead, keeping his hand still against his arse briefly before switching to the other side.

It doesn't bother him, going slow. He's gone at every pace imaginable when it comes to anal sex - both ways, across genders. His first time was early, earlier perhaps than most, and it just means that he knows how it works, how it doesn't work, and that Claude might want to be fucked but perhaps beneath it all, what he wants to be is cherished.

And whilst anal sex can be many things, if it's about the latter there's really only one way to go.

With care. ]
nowheretowns: (8)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 11:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ He makes a low sound against Claude's lips as the other man runs his fingers through his hair, the familiar motion calming - like smoothing down, putting things in order. Claude pushes up against his fingers, clearly saying more, give it, fuck me, and it's good to know they're on the right track, that he's leading them in the exact right direction. That's the kind of luxury leadership is rarely afforded, isn't it. That certainty. In that way, perhaps Claude is right that consent is important, not just in terms of re-routing gender roles and taking down power structures (Jean Louis is all in favour of that, so long as the power stays where he wants it so that's probably not quite what the man's got in mind) - but it's a gift the other way, too.

He breaks the kiss, panting slightly, nearly soundlessly. Looking at Claude, his hand curved over his other buttock, he finally untangles his hand from within his briefs and pulls at the hem, nudging them down over his hips, giving Claude time to work with him, to adjust himself and his hard cock accordingly. The briefs slide down his thighs and Jean Louis gets on his knees to work them off the rest of the way. Dropping them on the floor by the bed, he turns back to the other man, looking over the long, soft lines of his legs, thighs, arse - and upwards, all the way to his shoulders and his curls and the beautiful lines of his face. Treasure, he'd called him earlier in the evening. Like this, it's blatantly obvious.

Breathing coming out a bit shaky on his next exhalation, he shifts onto his side once more, lies down next to Claude but keeps himself propped up on his elbow for balance. With the other hand, he picks up the lube and squeezes some onto his palm, rubbing his fingers together briefly to warm it. ]


Shame that you can't be loud.

[ He leans down, kissing the back of Claude's head, lips slipping into his hair. ]

Let me know if I'm doing something wrong.

[ With that, he runs two, slick fingers down the crack of Claude's arse, pressing his fingertips in along the soft skin there, from right beneath his tailbone to his opening and a few inches beneath it, too. He draws his fingers upwards again, pausing over the rim of his arsehole this time and pressing inwards very slightly, not really enough to penetrate. He feels the tightness of him, the heat. His breath trembles out of him and he shifts, the tension in his balls quite hard to ignore at this point.

Leaning down, he pushes his lips against the back of Claude's neck with just enough pressure to signal down, and it isn't really an order - rather, it's a recommendation, perhaps, or guidance because seconds later, he presses the full length of his index finger into him, feeling his arsehole stretching easily around it. He sinks in all the way to the last knuckle, slowly, mindful of any resistance. ]
nowheretowns: (10)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He slides in easily. Claude isn't a novice, after all, and it's obvious from the way he makes himself relax, meeting Jean Louis' inward stroke with openness. He tenses at intervals, relaxing immediately after and Jean Louis simply stays like that for a moment, allowing him time to get himself reacquainted with the mechanics of it. He can feel the other man's shoulders rising and falling beneath him as he pants, his scent strong, heavy with both his own, natural colours and arousal. Sweat. Musk. Sex. Jean Louis pulls his finger out, halfway first, crooking it slightly to brush over his prostate on the way. ]

It'll feel better.

[ It's a fact, not a promise. Again, he doesn't care for the latter; it reeks of uncertainty, of illusions - a trick that relies too heavily on the whims and wills of the person who makes the offering. Promises are, as they say, cheap. They mean nothing (and he knows nothing, perhaps better than many). He kisses a path from Claude's nape to his shoulder before flattening his tongue against his skin, tasting him fully. Salt and something a little warmer, something complex.

He pulls his finger out of Claude's arse, nearly all the way and adds his middle finger next to it, probing his arsehole for a few seconds just to give him a signal before pushing in. He works both fingers in deep once more, past the tightness of his rim. He's all soft walls and heat on the inside as he buries his fingers to the last knuckles and pulls out only partially before going back inside. He takes care to get his prostate on every outstroke, too - if the other man isn't leaking onto the bed already, he definitely will be now.

A lovely mental image. His cock twitches pitifully but it'll have to wait - the more he wants it, the better. Maybe some other time, they can fuck for an hour, if Claude wants, if he doesn't mind that raw feeling that comes after, the reminder every single time you try to sit. To Jean Louis, it depends. That's how he knows it's not tonight. ]
nowheretowns: (7)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 02:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Claude, as it turns out, isn't very good at being quiet. That's not surprising. Jean Louis smiles thinly, focused as he is on other things, as Claude tells him he's gonna come, fucking hell and I want to come on your cock, just spouting dirty talk like it's his new, favourite kind of proposition. Jean Louis, meanwhile, has to shift again, his movements rougher now as his arousal goes up, his balls aching with tension. Claude's arse is warm and tight around his fingers and he keeps thinking about what he'll be like when he sinks into him for real, the full length of his cock, just buried to the hilt. He groans against Claude's shoulder, fucking into him harder with his fingers, meeting the push of Claude's arse. Keep going like this, there'll be a rhythm and a pace to it and yeah, eventually this will become a finger-fucking session rather than what Claude's actually asking for.

Won't do, of course.

He nods against Claude's shoulder and pulls both fingers out carefully, rubbing the tips over his rim a few times, feeling the muscle twitch in response. Then, he rolls onto his side and twists out of his pajama bottoms, pushing them to the floor with his feet. His cock's hard against his stomach and wet at the tip. Quickly, he unwraps the condom and rolls it on, not too much finesse, before he coats his palm in lube once more and slicks himself up. Turning onto his hip, one hand holding the condom in place, he looks at Claude for a moment before leaning down, kissing a wet trail from the small of his back and up the length of his spine. He follows his own path all the way to Claude's neck and shifts onto his knees, positioning himself above the other man, one leg on either side of his body.

Like that, slowly, he lowers himself until his front is pressed against Claude's back. He takes a firm grip on himself and guides his cock along the crack of Claude's arse, finding his arsehole easily now that he's spent the past minutes fingering it open. He presses the head of his cock against it without pushing in, feeling the rim stretch and give, opening around him. He breathes roughly, his pulse quickening - in a moment, in a moment - ]


Tell me again.

[ And the unspoken echoes underneath: That you want it. What you want. Tell me. Say it out loud. His voice is a hoarse whisper against the side of Claude's head, lips brushing against his ear. ]
nowheretowns: (Default)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He shivers against Claude's back, his words making his arousal feel urgent, his body tingling all over. With a low groan, he kisses the side of Claude's neck, right near the nape, and pushes in. The resistance is minimal - Claude wants it, his body is basically wide open, waiting to swallow him up - and as he pushes in all the way to the base, he pauses only a couple of times to let the other man catch up to him, feeling the way his body responds and responding in kind. In that way, sex really is the closest, most instinctual kind of communication that he knows. It feels so self-evident. Eyes falling shut, he rolls his hips slowly, finding his way into the other man's body until he can't go any deeper. The tightness and warmth around his cock is almost impossible - his mind takes a moment to fully comprehend it but once he feels it, he's there. ]

Fuck, you feel -

[ He swallows his next words, everything in his body telling him to move, to get that sense of friction, of thrust. He breathes hard against the side of Claude's neck and pulls out halfway before thrusting back inside. ]

- ah - you feel good. Perfect.

[ He folds his left arm around Claude's front, over chest and collarbones, taking the pressure off his bad shoulder and pulling Claude just a bit upwards, up against his own chest and closer. He's not being harsh about it - after all, the human body isn't a fucking noodle, it doesn't just stretch in any and all directions - but insistent, all the same. Come here, it means. He starts fucking him slowly, keeping the rhythm deep rather than hurried, the bed creaking beneath them. The heat in his belly doubles and he's breathing harshly, working himself in and out, his pace even.

He can feel his own climax building, his balls tight and drawn. Shifting, he angles himself in an approximation of his fingers, earlier, going for Claude's prostate and expecting to get it. As Claude said, he has experience. And experience is only worth as many benefits as it reaps. ]
nowheretowns: (5)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 03:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Claude moves with him, beneath him and around him. It's all-consuming. Eyes shut and breathing hard, Jean Louis follows his movements and does it again - and again - keeping the angle somewhat consistent while he feels his body building up faster and faster. Claude's holding his own cock, he can sense it from the angle of his shoulder and he's not going to make him let go, he's going to let him take his own pleasure the way he wants - however, the noise he's making in this old house with its tiny rooms is a different story. He likes listening to it. He'd like to touch it even better.

So, as he fucks into Claude, burying deep and pushing them both towards the edge without rushing, just doing what works, he folds his hand sloppily around Claude's mouth and chin, muffling his sounds. He kisses him along the side of his face, his temple and his cheekbone, breathing raggedly. ]


Now, Claude. [ He shifts. Kisses the bridge of Claude's nose. ] Be as loud as you want.

[ He takes a deep breath, angles himself properly and drives into him, hard enough to make the bed shake and the floor whine beneath them. The sudden increase in friction, the power of his thrusts, makes his balls tighten up to the point of pain. He ignores it. It's the edge and they're going over it, not with him dragging Claude like Rainier would have done, he would have pushed him and kicked him towards it and what a boring exercise that must have been. What a boring little man. No, he's not dragging Claude at all, he's running with him and for some reason, the thought of Claude taking his hand and just holding it pops into his mind, front and center; the way he does at seemingly random times throughout the day like it's perfectly normal, like anyone's ever done that before -

He gasps. Buries his head in Claude's shoulder by his neck, open-mouthed, teeth scraping over his shoulder as he spends himself on the next thrust, his climax sweeping over him so violently that he can't breathe for it. ]
nowheretowns: (2)

[personal profile] nowheretowns 2023-10-21 06:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Claude follows him over the edge moments later, his arse clamping down around him, milking his cock for whatever's left and he groans, his shoulders trembling as he makes one, final thrust. Then, pause. Quiet, except for the sounds of their breaths mingling and the echoes of Claude's cry (he'll hear that when he masturbates for the next many, many days to come, that sound, just Claude letting go, allowing himself).

Slowly, carefully, he eases himself out of Claude's body, holding onto the condom with his free hand, the one that's got the imprints of Claude's breath and his cries and his bravery all over it. Rolling it off, tying it and trowing away takes seconds, seconds that he barely even notices - then, his breathing slow and heavy, he lies down next to Claude, up against his side, nudging Claude until he lies on his side with his back to him. Like that, he curls up around him, twists their legs together and pushes his face into his hair. You're precious, says Claude, pretty words that shouldn't mean anything to him. He's been many things in his life to many people; precious isn't one of them.

Invaluable, he says.

He takes a deep breath. Locks his arm around Claude's waist and reaches for the duvet blindly, managing to wrangle it from beneath them to throw it over Claude, first, himself second. He doesn't like to be covered completely when he sleeps, it makes him feel locked down.

Yes, he's been locked down (and thrown away) many times and logically, that's really not what you do to something precious or invaluable but Claude's not the type to lie so maybe he knows something else about the world, the strange world he inhabits. The rules are different there. It takes something he doesn't know about to live in it.

For now, he'll accept that as truth. ]