"Who says I can't get mad about my outfit now being in multiple pieces?" With a playful frown to match that very real complaint as he looks down at the fabric now on the floor, his supposed concern all fleeting and convenient for a retort. Just as quickly as Jesper melted them away they'll be stitched together again later like this never happened, he knows, from plenty of experience before. If anything, the objection is simply because it's a trick he loves and he knows Jesper knows just how effective it is.
The same of which can be said for Sylvain's hands and their deft and talented work. The slow strokes have Claude lazily canting his hips forward into those fingers when them combined with desire have his cock hardening. Deliberately he rocks back every now and then at a languid pace to encourage Sylvain's own cock with added friction beyond what's been sought. He could reach a hand back between them in what's an equally familiar to stroke him in time, though no sooner has the thought crossed his mind when a tweak of fingers has him inhaling something not quite a gasp between parted lips. They could put on a teasing enough show just like this, Claude knows, and it's tempting to take their time.
All three of them certainly like to draw that out of each other in varying degrees; he could also wait to hear what plots are on Jesper's mind. Then again, why not encourage things along? His other hand goes back after all but to run fingertips along Sylvain's shoulder blade before switching to lightly dragging his nails next in appreciation for admiration coming from all sides between the man wrapped around him and the one on the bed appreciating the view just getting started.
"So many options for Jesper to choose from for what he wants," then a pause to reset his grasp in Sylvain's hair to something tighter in admiration of one particularly pleasing stroke that's still not quite enough even as he turns brush his lips against what he can reach of Sylvain's face in the tiniest sliver of impatience, "though I'm still not opposed to picking one ourselves. What do you think, my love?"
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The same of which can be said for Sylvain's hands and their deft and talented work. The slow strokes have Claude lazily canting his hips forward into those fingers when them combined with desire have his cock hardening. Deliberately he rocks back every now and then at a languid pace to encourage Sylvain's own cock with added friction beyond what's been sought. He could reach a hand back between them in what's an equally familiar to stroke him in time, though no sooner has the thought crossed his mind when a tweak of fingers has him inhaling something not quite a gasp between parted lips. They could put on a teasing enough show just like this, Claude knows, and it's tempting to take their time.
All three of them certainly like to draw that out of each other in varying degrees; he could also wait to hear what plots are on Jesper's mind. Then again, why not encourage things along? His other hand goes back after all but to run fingertips along Sylvain's shoulder blade before switching to lightly dragging his nails next in appreciation for admiration coming from all sides between the man wrapped around him and the one on the bed appreciating the view just getting started.
"So many options for Jesper to choose from for what he wants," then a pause to reset his grasp in Sylvain's hair to something tighter in admiration of one particularly pleasing stroke that's still not quite enough even as he turns brush his lips against what he can reach of Sylvain's face in the tiniest sliver of impatience, "though I'm still not opposed to picking one ourselves. What do you think, my love?"