(( LOG : never without purpose ))

[downplaying]

[Characters:] Vincent & Claude
[Date:] 22.12.2016
[Summary:] It's a question of cause and effect.
__________

[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.]

Comments

[downplaying]

[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.]

[justcrywolf]

[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.]

[downplaying]

[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.]

[justcrywolf]

[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.

[downplaying]

[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.]

[justcrywolf]

[... 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.]