When Claude shifts further down his body, his hand falls away towards the floor, the sheepskin warm underneath his fingers. Relaxing back as much as possible, he returns his gaze to the ceiling, the darkness stretched out thinly above him by the multiple colours of the lamps and the flames in the fireplace. They’re alive, the shadows, dancing before his eyes. Much like Claude on stage, much like his mouth and tongue mapping out his body. When his hand closes around his cock, Vincent very nearly bucks upwards, remaining in place mostly due to Claude’s palmed pressed against his stomach. Instead, there’s just a small jerk of his hips, a loud exhalation of breath. God. What is he… why…
He understands only when something very hot and very wet pushes over the head of his cock, a pleasure unlike anything he’s ever felt whilst masturbating making his eyes widen. He usually just finishes himself off as fast as possible, the climax something to be overcome rather than enjoyed. But now… like this… Back arching upwards, he finds himself almost desperate for more, ready to beg and plead without restraint if only if would make the other man… give him…
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Claude I… I can’t, I’ll…” The words positively tumble out of him, completely unrestricted as Claude takes him in, his lips closed around the width of his cock. His mouth is so impossibly hot and tight, his tongue pressing in on something completely amazing and really, he can’t be expected to maintain himself in any fashion now, surely not! Hands grasping for something, anything, he goes straight for Claude’s hair once more, all ten, long fingers digging in and holding on. There’s pressure building up in his balls quickly now and he can’t even begin to hold back, can’t possibly consider whether keeping himself in check might be more prudent, less rude, whatever. He can’t. Instead, he lets it wash over him after another few, constricted breaths, climax eating him up from the inside and out.
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He understands only when something very hot and very wet pushes over the head of his cock, a pleasure unlike anything he’s ever felt whilst masturbating making his eyes widen. He usually just finishes himself off as fast as possible, the climax something to be overcome rather than enjoyed. But now… like this… Back arching upwards, he finds himself almost desperate for more, ready to beg and plead without restraint if only if would make the other man… give him…
“Oh, fuck. Fuck, Claude I… I can’t, I’ll…” The words positively tumble out of him, completely unrestricted as Claude takes him in, his lips closed around the width of his cock. His mouth is so impossibly hot and tight, his tongue pressing in on something completely amazing and really, he can’t be expected to maintain himself in any fashion now, surely not! Hands grasping for something, anything, he goes straight for Claude’s hair once more, all ten, long fingers digging in and holding on. There’s pressure building up in his balls quickly now and he can’t even begin to hold back, can’t possibly consider whether keeping himself in check might be more prudent, less rude, whatever. He can’t. Instead, he lets it wash over him after another few, constricted breaths, climax eating him up from the inside and out.