The only response Vincent gives, despite his dirty mouth – or perhaps because of it, is to pick up a rhythm. Set a pace, his head bobbing up and down as his lips slide along Claude’s shaft, the skin sensitive even through the protective layer of the condom. Moaning, Claude feels the familiar sensation of pleasure shooting down his spine, the heat in his groin intensifying as Vincent begins massaging his balls – gently, more gently than is his usual preference. He has sensitive balls, yes, but he likes the fact taken advantage of to its fullest rather than the opposite. Nothing better than having a good blowjob emphasised, after all. And this is a good blowjob, if anything ever was.

He runs his hand down to the back of Vincent’s head, fingers still curled in his hair, but his palm mostly flat against his skull. Then, he pushes, slightly – only with enough strength to indicate, not to force. He never expects his partners to deep-throat and naturally never forces them, well aware that he’s larger than the majority, but God knows it would do wonders right now, to feel his cock swallowed to the base.

“You look so good, down there on your knees,” he manages, finally, most of the words pressed out through gritted teeth. His release isn’t the only thing he has to hold back by now, a vast selection of more or less flattering nicknames lining up in his mind. Later. Honey will have to wait until later.