downplaying | (( LOG : never without purpose ))

[Characters:] Vincent & Claude
[Date:] 22.12.2016
[Summary:] It's a question of cause and effect.
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[He isn't exactly seething inside (anymore), but he definitely isn't pleased. If Vincent hadn't been so God damn attached to his job, Claude would have contacted the high and mighty Jean Louis Duroc himself and asked for an apology. In written form. Claude might not be all that active in the journalistic world anymore, but he still has all his contacts left and someone would be bound to find it an interesting angle - homophobia endorsed in the State Ministry of Luxembourg. Again, if Vincent wasn't so bloody dedicated to his new position as spin doctor for the State Minister. Claude couldn't do it to him. Not even if it's right. Not even if he'd really like to.

So instead he undresses quickly, to the sound of Vincent showering. Chases the cats out of the bedroom before crawling under the covers, Plato bouncing for the door and Socrates following after at an entirely unhurried pace as is his style. His groove. Claude loves that cat, it's so damn relaxed. Relaxing. There's nothing better than the evenings when it crawls up onto his lap and deems him worthy for pillow, purring gently and inviting a scratch on the head and some heavy (cat) petting. Well, maybe sex is better, but that falls under another category and involves different parties.

... Great and now he's horny, too - on top of being irritated.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Vincent sits back, watching Claude position himself on his hands and knees. Carefully, of course, because they aren't seventeen and cracking your back during anal sex just isn't something a guy would be overly proud of. Pouring out a generous amount of lube onto his hand and fingers, he spends the time slicking himself up in long, slow strokes. It takes a few seconds for his mind to settle wholly into sensations - as opposed to the numbness he's been dealing with ever since Jean-Paul decided to break his fucking nose with no warning. At Claude's question, he manages a smile, strained from a mix of arousal and a fresh surge of irritation.]

Wouldn't offer you anything else.

[Like this, Claude's really very appealing. Massively appealing. With his legs slightly spread, his balls and cock heavy and exposed between his thighs. And his arse; well-shaped and delicious, skin lighter than Vincent's, but not as pale. He tightens his grip on his cock, practically jerking off now, eyes eating Claude up, like a fucking entrée. Reaching out with his free hand, he runs his palm up his thigh, fingers spreading out near his perineum and pressing in, just a slight touch of stimulation.]

[Everything is restricted to the sense of touch, seeing how he's staring straight at the headboard of the bed and unable to see anything else without beginning to move, to turn his head and look over his shoulder. So, Claude stays in place and focuses on the sounds, first - the wet sound of one lube-slick hand jerking off Vincent's cock (and just imagining it is making him harder by the second). The sense of touch, secondly, as he feels Vincent's fingers run up his thigh, spreading out near his perineum and applying pressure for the sake of stimulation. Claude has always been sensitive. His balls. Nipples. His skin, in general. Exhaling shakily, he leans forward slightly, arse on display and his cock positively dripping. Once Vincent starts fucking him, he'll have to jerk off or he's going to fucking die from the pleasure of it...]

Enjoying yourself?

[The question is directed at the both of them, really and he'd laugh if he had enough air in his lungs. He doesn't. He's completely breathless.]

[Okay, that's it, he can't... Shifting closer on his knees just a bit awkwardly with his hard-on bobbing against his stomach, he places his lube-covered hand on the small of Claude's back, his other staying in place just below his scrid. Claude is pretty sensitive in terms of small-scale stimulation (in general, too) and it's so. Fucking. Hot. Reaching further down, Vincent fondles his balls, a comfortable weight in his palm as he rolls them slowly back and forth between his fingers.]

Definitely, yeah.

[His voice is a pant now, breathless and rough around the edges. Even in his current mood, he couldn't not take the time to enjoy Claude's amazing body; it's there for him to take and he'll take it alright, just the way they both prefer it. Moving his other hand downwards, he slips two fingers between Claude's buttocks, pushing lightly against his arsehole. Not enough to penetrate but enough for the next few seconds, all the same.]

[Shit. Vincent is fondling his balls, rolling them back and forth between his fingers slowly. Hearing himself breaking into a pant, Claude drops his head, resting it against his forearm, knowing full well that he's only spreading himself more open by doing so. All the better. Vincent will probably like that, his buttocks spread apart around the couple of fingers that he's pressing against his arsehole. Not enough to penetrate yet, just the notion of pressure. The promise. Fuck, don't be a tease now, Vincent - not when he knows Vincent wants it just as much as Claude does (if not more). Needs it. They both need it, right now. Each other.]

[Claude reacts to his touch in the best way possible, bending further down and leaving his arsehole more exposed. To his fingers and his eyes, both. Oh shit, he wants to move ahead now - wants to bury his cock in Claude's arse, wants his mind to stop and his body to take the fuck over. Breathing heavily through his nose, he pushes his fingers forward with enough pressure to make the movement smooth, just a bit unyielding. All the way to his knuckles, Claude's body burning hot and tight.

He can't wait to fuck him. He can't wait. Fingers curving in just the right position, he presses against Claude's prostate, knowing exactly how to make the angle work. Like this, he simply pushes his fingers back and forth, keeping them slightly seperated for the sake of stretching. Quietly, still, except for his breathing which is gradually turning into panting instead.]

[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.]

[That moan is the last straw - in terms of foreplay, this is pretty poor by Vincent's standards but he's not here to play around until the break of dawn. Not tonight (though the idea isn't bad...). Not with Claude sounding like that, pushing against him, fucking himself on his fingers. Straightening up, he pulls his fingers out and runs his palm over his cock again. Slick enough. Still on his knees, his cock on perfect level, he moves himself closer - close enough for the tip to press in firmly against Claude's arsehole as Vincent spreads his cheeks with his free hand.]

Fuck, you're so hot. So hot. [His voice sounds distant to his ears, arousal blurring up everything except the feel of stimulation. Finally. Finally. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he presses forward, cock pushing into Claude's arse inch by inch.] Christ, yes.

[Anal sex is not something you do on a bed of roses. It isn't all sweets and frilly skirts, it's someone pushing inside of your arse with their cock and of course, it burns at first - especially with the way Vincent is so adamant about it, gliding inside inch by inch. Claude can feel his arsehole widening around the shaft of his cock and his arse on fire around the length of it. So good, though. It feels so bloody good. Hair falling into his eyes as he stares unseeingly at the pillows in front of him, he tries controlling his breathing, his panting making him feel slightly light-headed.]

Just... push in, all the way.

[The burn will die down. If just Vincent will bury himself to the base already, so Claude's body can adjust.]

[... oh fuck. Claude's so tight around his cock, so tight and so fucking hot. He tries to control his breathing and fails, utterly, everything coming out as pants and gasps. Glancing down, he watches the way Claude's arsehole stretches around his cock, helped along nicely by a mix of sweat, lube and precome. Fuck. This is impossibly good and it's lightening up every nerve in his body, forcing him completely out of his mind. As such, it takes him a moment to realise that Claude's spoken - and when he answers, he's already fulfilled his request, cock buried all the way to the base. He holds still with an effort, the need to get off so urgent now that every hesitation feels almost like torture.]

Alright?

[His voice is thick from arousal. He licks his lips, supporting himself with one hand against Claude's hip, the other running up and down his back in senseless patterns. Sweaty palm against equally sweaty skin.]

(( LOG : never without purpose ))

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