Claude pushes back against him and suddenly, they're front to front in a way he couldn’t even imagine (though he can, yes, once his eyes are closed and the night’s open and limitless around him). The feel of proximity, of being this close to someone else is making him feel lightheaded and he curls his fingers in the fabric of Claude’s jacket, holding on for dear life as he leans in just a bit further yet.
When Claude pushes his tongue against his lips, it takes him at least a second (more possibly three) to understand what’s happening. He’s never – not the touch of someone else’s tongue and it’s so good, like another barrier of intimacy, broken. Following the other man’s lead, Vincent parts his lips as well, breathing in harshly and exhaling before pressing his tongue lightly against Claude’s. Just the very tip of it, just… but oh. Oh. Eyes falling shut, he sighs, shoulders relaxing for the first time in what feels like ages. When Claude groans, the sound rushes straight through his system, pooling very heatedly between his legs. Ignoring that - there’s a time and a place, perhaps, and he doesn’t want his body to ruin this - Vincent leans into the touch of his fingers before freeing one hand and pushing Claude’s hat further down his head, already on the verge of toppling off against the brick wall. Like this, he can… he can… yes. Running his fingers through Claude’s hair slowly, long fingertips stroking over his scalp, he realises that he could do this all night, no problem. Just the two of them, right here with their bodies and mouths pressed together, sharing an intimacy that he’s never truly known to exist. His dreams are nothing in comparison, less than the weight of a passing thought.
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When Claude pushes his tongue against his lips, it takes him at least a second (more possibly three) to understand what’s happening. He’s never – not the touch of someone else’s tongue and it’s so good, like another barrier of intimacy, broken. Following the other man’s lead, Vincent parts his lips as well, breathing in harshly and exhaling before pressing his tongue lightly against Claude’s. Just the very tip of it, just… but oh. Oh. Eyes falling shut, he sighs, shoulders relaxing for the first time in what feels like ages. When Claude groans, the sound rushes straight through his system, pooling very heatedly between his legs. Ignoring that - there’s a time and a place, perhaps, and he doesn’t want his body to ruin this - Vincent leans into the touch of his fingers before freeing one hand and pushing Claude’s hat further down his head, already on the verge of toppling off against the brick wall. Like this, he can… he can… yes. Running his fingers through Claude’s hair slowly, long fingertips stroking over his scalp, he realises that he could do this all night, no problem. Just the two of them, right here with their bodies and mouths pressed together, sharing an intimacy that he’s never truly known to exist. His dreams are nothing in comparison, less than the weight of a passing thought.