[ Sylvain's not wrong that they both know it, but admissions are always more fun. That he gets one puts a smirk back onto his face since it feels like a prize to hear it be said aloud and one he's absolutely going to wave around as such.
He's already in the process of opening his mouth for some obnoxious comment yet to be determined, but all that means is that when Sylvain finally slides fingers into him there's no disguising the barely choked off curse that escapes him. That's more from the satisfaction of finally getting (mostly) what he wanted as that careful line between rough and just enough is toed in exactly the way he likes without even needing to ask for it.
No finger tapping is happening now with his hands gripped around the edge of the desk, and though the temptation's certainly there to let go of it to dig his fingers into whatever part of Sylvain he can reach, he's not yet so far lost in the sensations to not know that would cause Sylvain to stop. And that is the last thing he wants - not with each pass of those fingers drawing small pleased noises out of him with the promise of more. Instead Claude settles ("settles") for leaning back again to encourage them deeper and towards the angle being sought as a small clue. ]
I've always found reality to be-- gods- [ Maybe the clue wasn't needed after all when fingers brush somewhere sensitive and it derails his thoughts for a solid few seconds, but - ] better than imagination alone. Maybe I should focus on making sure what you imagine later is very vivid.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-04-21 02:45 pm (UTC)He's already in the process of opening his mouth for some obnoxious comment yet to be determined, but all that means is that when Sylvain finally slides fingers into him there's no disguising the barely choked off curse that escapes him. That's more from the satisfaction of finally getting (mostly) what he wanted as that careful line between rough and just enough is toed in exactly the way he likes without even needing to ask for it.
No finger tapping is happening now with his hands gripped around the edge of the desk, and though the temptation's certainly there to let go of it to dig his fingers into whatever part of Sylvain he can reach, he's not yet so far lost in the sensations to not know that would cause Sylvain to stop. And that is the last thing he wants - not with each pass of those fingers drawing small pleased noises out of him with the promise of more. Instead Claude settles ("settles") for leaning back again to encourage them deeper and towards the angle being sought as a small clue. ]
I've always found reality to be-- gods- [ Maybe the clue wasn't needed after all when fingers brush somewhere sensitive and it derails his thoughts for a solid few seconds, but - ] better than imagination alone. Maybe I should focus on making sure what you imagine later is very vivid.