When he spends himself in Claude’s mouth, Vincent cries out, his voice echoing off the bare walls around them. Hands clenched almost convulsively in Claude’s hair, he thrusts upwards a couple of times as Claude draws away. He’d feel bereft at the loss of heat and in a way, he does - but truthfully, his cock feels so oversensitive now, he almost can’t bear the thought of anymore stimulation. Gasping for air, he stares upwards blankly, chest heaving and his arms falling down limply by his sides, wrists seemingly boneless. For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Can’t. Speaking involves thinking and thinking isn’t something he’d like to do now, preferably not ever. Is it possible to just. Engage in all manners of sex with Claude for the rest of eternity and forget the rest?
God knows it should be.
Swallowing, he finally sits up, resting his weight on his elbows. Claude’s looking at him, his cock exactly as hard and impressive as you’d expect and though Vincent’s body can’t currently perform beyond a limp muscle spasm or two, his eyes are already more than prepared to eat him up. Holding out one arm very lazily, he beckons to the other man, a loose, unguarded wave of his hand. “Come here,” he says, somewhat surprised at the hoarse quality of his voice. Even more surprised, though, at his own initiative – he’s never actually… but surely, it can’t be so difficult, it’s a cock (and how!), it needs… to go somewhere. Yes. Face flushing again, he runs his fingers through his hair, long strands settling back against his head. Out of his face, as it were.
Maybe it’s the complete relaxation of his body melting into his mind, but there’s not a grain of nervousness or anxiety left – just the knowledge that in a few seconds, he’ll be sucking Claude’s cock down his throat as far as it’ll go and even if it chokes him, he’ll love every single minute of it.
no subject
God knows it should be.
Swallowing, he finally sits up, resting his weight on his elbows. Claude’s looking at him, his cock exactly as hard and impressive as you’d expect and though Vincent’s body can’t currently perform beyond a limp muscle spasm or two, his eyes are already more than prepared to eat him up. Holding out one arm very lazily, he beckons to the other man, a loose, unguarded wave of his hand. “Come here,” he says, somewhat surprised at the hoarse quality of his voice. Even more surprised, though, at his own initiative – he’s never actually… but surely, it can’t be so difficult, it’s a cock (and how!), it needs… to go somewhere. Yes. Face flushing again, he runs his fingers through his hair, long strands settling back against his head. Out of his face, as it were.
Maybe it’s the complete relaxation of his body melting into his mind, but there’s not a grain of nervousness or anxiety left – just the knowledge that in a few seconds, he’ll be sucking Claude’s cock down his throat as far as it’ll go and even if it chokes him, he’ll love every single minute of it.