Then… Vincent wraps his fingers around his cock and Claude couldn’t hold a meaningful thought even if he tried. He doesn’t. Doesn’t fight the sensation of heat and pressure. His breath catching in his throat, he lets his head fall forward, forehead coming to a rest against Vincent’s shoulder. Their difference in heights making it a rather comfortable position, everything considered. He manages something like a strangled groan, his hips pushing into the touch automatically. Physically, he’s at a stage now where he wouldn’t be able to refuse himself the release, neither if he had the need nor the inclination to do so. Fortunately there’s no need to deny himself anything. Vincent just told him he wants to suck him off, how bloody lucky can a man get?

Blindly, his fingers follow the outline of Vincent’s cock through the fabric of his trousers, squeezing slightly near the base before following the entire length up. The hardness of it is evident even through the multiple layers and Claude imagines it in his mouth, on his tongue. The taste of it. The feel when he deep-throats… This time it’s a full moan, rather than a groan and his voice is halfway muffled against the bared skin of Vincent’s shoulder blade.

“I would force your head the entire way.”