Those moans go straight to his cock. Drawing in a sharp breath, Claude feels his hips jerk violently – the first signs of orgasm, along with the increasing tightness in his balls. He’s not a man who really believes in the notion of romantic sex and had he done so, this entire scenario would probably have disappointed him somewhat. Romantic sex is an invention of Hollywood’s – real life sex is what you make of it and they, Vincent and he, are making something absolutely spectacular of it right now, if you ask him. Right here, bathed in the yellow light of the morning sun. With a groan, he pulls out again. Pushes in. Sets a rhythm that is reaching for the finish line. God, it feels like Heaven. A tiny piece of it, at least.

The bed is creaking something fierce (the downside of having a metal bed) and combined with the sounds the both of them are making at this point, he really should be concerned for the neighbours, but he’s in no state of mind to care, even if someone should decide to come knock on his door. They can go fuck themselves. Kindly.

Vincent’s arse feels hot and tight all around him and Claude is slowly growing dizzy from the pleasure of it. He’s reaching that… point now… Where everything is melting together into a blur of sensation, of heat and tightness, of motion. (Almost) uncontrolled, but never quite. He’s so close. So close to climaxing. Just another few thrusts and… It washes over him soundlessly, his orgasm. Balls tightening and sperm leaking from his cock into the condom, he simply stiffens for a moment, face pressed against the side of Vincent’s neck and all the muscles in his body completely taut from the effort.