I'd never doubt your talent at making me a very, very happy man, Vincent.
[It's said with something like a smile, Claude's eyes running down Vincent's body as more and more of it is slowly revealed by the duvet slipping down to his thighs. His cock is only just beginning to harden, none of the one-second-to-the-next hard-ons that they experienced as teenagers and young(er) men. Claude can feel his own body responding, arousal pooling like a burning heat in the pit of his stomach and, even more pronounced, as a tightness in his balls.
Gaze crawling back up Vincent's stomach and chest, to his face, to meet his eyes, Claude cocks his head. There's an unspoken "go on" to be located somewhere in his expression, but he doesn't say the words. Instead letting Vincent take it at his own pace. Usually it's a good one.]
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[It's said with something like a smile, Claude's eyes running down Vincent's body as more and more of it is slowly revealed by the duvet slipping down to his thighs. His cock is only just beginning to harden, none of the one-second-to-the-next hard-ons that they experienced as teenagers and young(er) men. Claude can feel his own body responding, arousal pooling like a burning heat in the pit of his stomach and, even more pronounced, as a tightness in his balls.
Gaze crawling back up Vincent's stomach and chest, to his face, to meet his eyes, Claude cocks his head. There's an unspoken "go on" to be located somewhere in his expression, but he doesn't say the words. Instead letting Vincent take it at his own pace. Usually it's a good one.]