[ I wouldn't mind, either, Jean Louis says and it's somehow settled, then. The other man puts his cup aside and Claude watches, hesitantly only by habit, as he leans in closer, supporting himself with an arm against the backrest of the couch and pressing his lips to Claude's. It's light, just the hint of contact, lips against lips and Claude finds himself thinking, a bit bemused, that he should be uncomfortable, because Jean Louis didn't make sure he had consent first, instead he's just relieved that the man didn't just go ahead and orally assault him like he might have thought he would. Like he seems the type to. Like so many men are. Well, even neoliberals are apparently full of surprises, aren't they? This particular neoliberal is, at least. Claude better not make him the standard to which you hold all the rest.
Smiling into the kiss, he shifts a bit in his seat, closer to Jean Louis, to the sensation of his body heat that hangs about his frame like a blanket. In his lap, his hands curl into fists, fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers a bit too forcefully. Their lips slide over each other, still a close-mouthed kiss and really, that isn't necessary anymore, Jean Louis has his consent now, shit, he can take it, here, so Claude parts his lips slightly, invites Jean Louis in and in and closer still. At the edge of his mind he realises that he hasn't actually felt intimate with anyone since he moved from Paris and before that, he was having an equally dry spell - a few one-night stands on either side of the border, if he remembers correctly, not that he really cares to, one-night stands don't do much for him.
Unless they feel like this, then he might be persuaded. Will he be neoliberal, too, before the night's over? That fucking politician, hah. ]
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Smiling into the kiss, he shifts a bit in his seat, closer to Jean Louis, to the sensation of his body heat that hangs about his frame like a blanket. In his lap, his hands curl into fists, fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers a bit too forcefully. Their lips slide over each other, still a close-mouthed kiss and really, that isn't necessary anymore, Jean Louis has his consent now, shit, he can take it, here, so Claude parts his lips slightly, invites Jean Louis in and in and closer still. At the edge of his mind he realises that he hasn't actually felt intimate with anyone since he moved from Paris and before that, he was having an equally dry spell - a few one-night stands on either side of the border, if he remembers correctly, not that he really cares to, one-night stands don't do much for him.
Unless they feel like this, then he might be persuaded. Will he be neoliberal, too, before the night's over? That fucking politician, hah. ]