Vincent draws back and Claude lets him, lips burning in the wake of their brief connection. Watching the other man as he pulls the singlet over his head, his hair ruffled slightly when he emerges once more, he has to cool them down. His lips and himself, licking his bottom lip without much conscious thought. There's nothing but lines to find on Vincent, elongated and pronounced lines, the sharp jut of ribs and the curve of his shoulders. A thin, light spread of hair across his pecs, almost unnoticeable unless you're looking. And Claude's looking. Dear God, is he looking... His cock has now grown fully hard in the too-tight embrace of his breeches and he reaches down slowly, untying the waistband quickly and efficiently. Treats this particular garment with much greater care than the rest, seeing as the risk of his cock getting tangled in the fabric is very much real. Wriggling out of the breeches, they slide down his thighs, over his knees and he kicks them off the rest of the way, the relief stark. He only notices the change to his breathing when he returns his attention to Vincent, his chest heaving as if he'd been carrying stones. All this way. Maybe he has. In an altogether figurative sense.

Straightening up fully, Claude glances towards the sheepskins. Looks at Vincent again, trying to find the right words. He's currently thinking with his body, as he tends to do. His fingers tingling with the urge to touch, to feel the outline of Vincent's chest, feel the hills and the valleys, feel his nipples harden against Claude's palm. The need to venture further down and -- The heat is rising in his cheeks now and he moves over to the altar he's built in front of the fireplace. He might have been Vincent's idol first, but tonight Claude would really like to idolize him. There's certainly enough to admire.

The right words don't come to him, he's moved beyond them, so Claude just sits down on the sheepskins, leaving plenty of room for Vincent to join him. Should he want to. And Claude is counting on his desire at the moment. Is counting on him to follow in his own way, in his own time, but don't let his own time drag on forever. The head of Claude's cock is practically kissing his abdomen, he's that aroused.