[ It's such an automatic response at this point - when he gets corrected in class, he either whispers a low yes and changes positions or he says nothing and does the same. It's about showing responsiveness, respect, willingness to do and do over and do over again. When Jean Louis tells him to take off his shirt in that hoarse-edged voice of his, all want and will, Claude reacts like he would to his ballet master, though, God knows, Benny and he wouldn't end in bed together like this. Ever. Heidi would flay him alive, if she found out, after all - and Claude has learned to fear a scorned woman, he's seen enough of them on his way here. There is no such thing as an angry feminist, but there's certainly such a thing as an angry woman.
Pushing the train of thought aside swiftly, Claude slips his hands down from their rest on the other man's shoulder, reaches down to grasp the hem of his shirt and halfway hurls it over his head, baring himself in one swift movement of fabric against skin. They look a lot alike, Jean Louis and he - they're relatively hairy men, short and muscular, although their muscles bulk very differently. Beneath his long-sleeved t-shirt, Jean Louis is all leanness and elongation, whereas Claude... Well, he is more mass, more roundness. It's actually very fitting, isn't it?
He drops the shirt on the floor next to the settee, doesn't really care where it lands. Jean Louis might, but right now Claude imagines those cares don't count for much. He's not the only one short of breath. Probably not the only one feeling all hot and bothered around the general crotch area, either. Even if he's learned by now that Jean Louis takes longer to heat up properly. It's okay, they have time. They've got plenty of time, unless Marcel happens to get home earlier than planned, now wouldn't that be a party...
Returning his hands to Jean Louis' shoulders, Claude breathes long, hard inhalations through his nose, trying to temper himself a bit while he drops his hands slowly down the other man's front, feeling the outline of nipples and the definition of muscle underneath. Fuck, so hot. He finds his voice somewhere in the overwhelming heat of their contact. ]
You're not gonna make me feel too lonely for too long, are you?
no subject
[ It's such an automatic response at this point - when he gets corrected in class, he either whispers a low yes and changes positions or he says nothing and does the same. It's about showing responsiveness, respect, willingness to do and do over and do over again. When Jean Louis tells him to take off his shirt in that hoarse-edged voice of his, all want and will, Claude reacts like he would to his ballet master, though, God knows, Benny and he wouldn't end in bed together like this. Ever. Heidi would flay him alive, if she found out, after all - and Claude has learned to fear a scorned woman, he's seen enough of them on his way here. There is no such thing as an angry feminist, but there's certainly such a thing as an angry woman.
Pushing the train of thought aside swiftly, Claude slips his hands down from their rest on the other man's shoulder, reaches down to grasp the hem of his shirt and halfway hurls it over his head, baring himself in one swift movement of fabric against skin. They look a lot alike, Jean Louis and he - they're relatively hairy men, short and muscular, although their muscles bulk very differently. Beneath his long-sleeved t-shirt, Jean Louis is all leanness and elongation, whereas Claude... Well, he is more mass, more roundness. It's actually very fitting, isn't it?
He drops the shirt on the floor next to the settee, doesn't really care where it lands. Jean Louis might, but right now Claude imagines those cares don't count for much. He's not the only one short of breath. Probably not the only one feeling all hot and bothered around the general crotch area, either. Even if he's learned by now that Jean Louis takes longer to heat up properly. It's okay, they have time. They've got plenty of time, unless Marcel happens to get home earlier than planned, now wouldn't that be a party...
Returning his hands to Jean Louis' shoulders, Claude breathes long, hard inhalations through his nose, trying to temper himself a bit while he drops his hands slowly down the other man's front, feeling the outline of nipples and the definition of muscle underneath. Fuck, so hot. He finds his voice somewhere in the overwhelming heat of their contact. ]
You're not gonna make me feel too lonely for too long, are you?
[ Meaning: You take it off. ]