Claude feels Vincent tense up, watches the tightness in his shoulders and feels the tightness in his arse, the muscles tightening up around his fingers, though it slows him down only minimally. It obviously isn’t from pain or Vincent wouldn’t be lying there, purring like a fucking kitten. After a few seconds, his fingers are buried in his arse all the way and he pauses. Gives them both a moment to… just breathe. His own breathing is erratic and he doesn’t attempt to control it at this point. He’s just too horny to bother. He is a patient man, sure, but patience is only the anticipation that you won’t have to wait forever.

Just as slowly as when he pushed them in, he begins pulling his fingers out, setting a rhythm of in- and outward motion that’s not too slow (wouldn’t want to bore a man in need, would he?) – but just slow enough to have all the right sensations linger. Every time he’s pulled his fingers almost all the way out, he scissors them slightly, making sure to loosen Vincent’s arsehole good. Vincent might say he has no particular preferences, but Claude really doesn’t want to hurt him once he starts fucking him. Which needs to be soon. It needs to be really soon…

The next few moments, he simply fingerfucks him like that. Pulls his fingers out, pushes them in. In a strong, even rhythm. Leaning in over Vincent’s back, he rests his chin on his shoulder with only the slightest hint of a shuffle, labored pants making strands of Vincent’s hair move into further disarray.