[ The bedroom's not just on the smaller side - it feels minuscule, perhaps especially now with the two of them undressing in relative silence, broken only by the rustling of their clothes. There's something about the feel of Claude's lips that seem to linger still, no doubt mostly his imagination playing tricks but that, in itself, is odd. He's not the sentimental type by any stretch and kissing men isn't generally something he even partially enjoys. Then again, the last woman he bedded was Lisette, one week ago, and he can't even remember what she tasted like, let alone how she felt. Fingers working the buttons on his shirt open with methodological precision, he pushes the thoughts away. Lets his shirt fall open and turns his gaze to Claude who's mostly done undressing now, standing there in his socks and underwear, looking... maybe the slightest bit lost.
No shame in needing a bit of direction, right?
Shrugging out of his shirt, he holds it loosely in one hand and pauses. Looks the younger man over slowly, not primarily to enjoy his looks (though he is, objectively, good-looking in many ways - if nothing else, he does have eyes) but for the sake of communication. It might be easier, simply telling him that they'll only be heading straight to sleep if that's what Claude's expecting, if that's what he wants. But there's also a certain beauty in making him choose without handing him everything on a silver platter. Life's like that, after all. Thus, he simply watches him in silence, from the symmetrical lines of his face to the defined muscles of his upper body, thighs, legs. Eyes snapping back to his face, he raises an eyebrow slowly, puts his shirt away and turns slightly to the side.
no subject
No shame in needing a bit of direction, right?
Shrugging out of his shirt, he holds it loosely in one hand and pauses. Looks the younger man over slowly, not primarily to enjoy his looks (though he is, objectively, good-looking in many ways - if nothing else, he does have eyes) but for the sake of communication. It might be easier, simply telling him that they'll only be heading straight to sleep if that's what Claude's expecting, if that's what he wants. But there's also a certain beauty in making him choose without handing him everything on a silver platter. Life's like that, after all. Thus, he simply watches him in silence, from the symmetrical lines of his face to the defined muscles of his upper body, thighs, legs. Eyes snapping back to his face, he raises an eyebrow slowly, puts his shirt away and turns slightly to the side.
Starts in on his trousers without further ado.]