[ There's a faint flush on Sylvain's cheeks as he pulls back, having swallowed every drop - and then licked Claude clean on his way up for good measure - but he's pretty sure it can be blamed on exertion. Or arousal. Both? Certainly not from the quiet rush of pleasure at Claude's words again.
Smirking faintly, he pushes himself up on his elbows to peer up the line of Claude's body a moment before moving to slide up and stretch out alongside him. He reaches out, sliding fingers against Claude's own flushed cheeks, eyes dark and fond. And still smug. So very smug. ]
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Smirking faintly, he pushes himself up on his elbows to peer up the line of Claude's body a moment before moving to slide up and stretch out alongside him. He reaches out, sliding fingers against Claude's own flushed cheeks, eyes dark and fond. And still smug. So very smug. ]
There's no rush. We have all night, remember?