[ Claude responds quickly, tilting his head a little and suddenly, the angle is perfect - why has he never noticed before? That there's such a thing as a perfect kissing angle? He's kissed many people throughout the years, mostly as a means to an end; connect as many body parts as humanely possible before the night's out and the quiet starts to settle once again. There's never been any reason to stay in the moment for very long; there's such a thing, in fact, as killing a passion simply by stretching out the moment beyond endurance. But now he does notice. And it makes sense.
Claude's tongue comes out, runs along his lower lip, and there's something so careful about it, so considerate that he takes a moment to react, to move them onwards. Instead, he simply lets it linger, the fact that he's always asking, is Claude, always trying to align their paces, fundamentally different as they may be. He can't say exactly how it makes him feel, he's not the type to look backwards for explanations; he only knows that it's hard to get enough of.
Leaning into the kiss a bit more, he tightens his fingers against Claude's neck, the touch of the other man's hand against his midriff sending small shivers running up his spine, along his skin. Then, he parts his lips and pushes his tongue against Claude's, pressing it into his mouth. The heat, the wetness - and the taste of him, uniquely Claude, very warm and round with a hint of something much sharper... Eyes slipping shut, he deepens the kiss and tries to rid his mind of all other thoughts, the tension in his muscles dissipating slowly but surely. ]
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Claude's tongue comes out, runs along his lower lip, and there's something so careful about it, so considerate that he takes a moment to react, to move them onwards. Instead, he simply lets it linger, the fact that he's always asking, is Claude, always trying to align their paces, fundamentally different as they may be. He can't say exactly how it makes him feel, he's not the type to look backwards for explanations; he only knows that it's hard to get enough of.
Leaning into the kiss a bit more, he tightens his fingers against Claude's neck, the touch of the other man's hand against his midriff sending small shivers running up his spine, along his skin. Then, he parts his lips and pushes his tongue against Claude's, pressing it into his mouth. The heat, the wetness - and the taste of him, uniquely Claude, very warm and round with a hint of something much sharper... Eyes slipping shut, he deepens the kiss and tries to rid his mind of all other thoughts, the tension in his muscles dissipating slowly but surely. ]