[ Sylvain is trying to kill him, he decides. More importantly, the carefully drawn out intensity and enjoying every last second of it even as he wants to ask for more certainly isn't a bad way to go. It's absolutely better than being taunted with the idea of fingers rather than actually with them, including when another's added and he has to hang onto the desk again, and it's definitely an excellent preface for what's to come. Hopefully. And - having just played this game with Sylvain on the opposite side of it - Claude knows where it's headed.

There's still the urge to hold onto some semblance of control even as Sylvain's eroding it little by little, each movement drawing the sounds from him he knows the other wants even if there could still be others, but he's still reserving those while he can. The fingers resolutely working him open, the laugh in his ear, the kisses down his throat that have him swallowing hard and not even caring how noticeable it is: Sylvain's definitely trying to kill him. ]

That makes two of us, then. [ It's an awful retort, but he can't even care when yet another brush of those fingers earns Sylvain another (very) poorly stifled moan as he finally has to lean down to rest his forehead on one arm for a moment. Totally only a moment. ] I didn't know you were planning on letting your fingers fulfill your fantasy for you, though.

[ There's a please in there somewhere given it's far from nonchalant like it could've been minutes ago. Claude can't even attempt to sound anything other than breathless since catching it isn't going to happen any time soon - not that he wants to with leaning back to take Sylvain's fingers again in a silent request for more. ]