[ They stay still for a moment or two, each gripping the other's cock, and it could have been potentially ridiculous if it weren't for how flat-out comfortable it all feels. Really, even if Claude isn't planning on shooting him, anyone else probably could without breaking a sweat right now. He can't remember sex ever being quite like this, and he certainly wouldn't want it to be as a regular thing, but presently, this moment? It's fine. It's perfectly fine. Jean Louis lets him suck on his lower lip for a few seconds, a rather large percentage of his concentration focused elsewhere, focused south, on Claude's grip near the base of his cock.
Though people might presume differently once they actually meet Marcel or figure out what he'll let them about his personality, their sex life isn't truly very adventurous. At least not the one they share (whatever he might be doing with that Italian skank of his, well, at this very moment, frankly, it doesn't matter). When Jean Louis fucks his women, it's the same story though the endings do tend to... vary. In any case, he's not quite sure what to expect from sleeping with men who aren't Marcel, seeing as he never does; as he runs his palm slowly up along the heavy length of Claude's shaft, he decides to take charge and just set a course, any course.
Eyes narrowing slightly in concentration, he pauses, palm lingering right beneath the head of Claude's cock, fingertips pressing in against the small ridge running along the underside. Rubbing it slowly with his thumb, up and down, his other fingers curved lightly over the shaft, he leans in the rest of the way and kisses him. This time, he doesn't wait for Claude to catch up with him - he presses his tongue against his lips, feeling the wetness of his mouth and wanting more because that's how it goes, isn't it? One good thing, drain it dry, go for the next, live. ]
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Though people might presume differently once they actually meet Marcel or figure out what he'll let them about his personality, their sex life isn't truly very adventurous. At least not the one they share (whatever he might be doing with that Italian skank of his, well, at this very moment, frankly, it doesn't matter). When Jean Louis fucks his women, it's the same story though the endings do tend to... vary. In any case, he's not quite sure what to expect from sleeping with men who aren't Marcel, seeing as he never does; as he runs his palm slowly up along the heavy length of Claude's shaft, he decides to take charge and just set a course, any course.
Eyes narrowing slightly in concentration, he pauses, palm lingering right beneath the head of Claude's cock, fingertips pressing in against the small ridge running along the underside. Rubbing it slowly with his thumb, up and down, his other fingers curved lightly over the shaft, he leans in the rest of the way and kisses him. This time, he doesn't wait for Claude to catch up with him - he presses his tongue against his lips, feeling the wetness of his mouth and wanting more because that's how it goes, isn't it? One good thing, drain it dry, go for the next, live. ]