[Like everything else Vincent does in bed, he works his prostate with great precision, once he's buried his fingers in his arse - most likely to the knuckles, or so it feels. The burn prominent the first five seconds, before slowly dying down in favour of the sensation of intense pleasure. All his muscles are working now, his thighs trembling slightly and his shoulders tense as he pushes back against Vincent's (bloody) long fingers, thrusting in and out of him at an even pace, separated slightly to open him up. In reality, they're both probably just waiting for the next step - for Vincent to get a fucking move on and fuck him, but Claude isn't one to dismiss even a moment's worth of Vincent pleasuring him. Too precious. Too damn precious to throw away. Gasping for a large mouthful of air, he moans loudly, his fingers itching to reach down and grab his cock. Not now, though. Not yet. He can wait. Be patient. If Vincent can, so can he.]
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