[Claude is in a similar state, flushed and sweating as though he's just run for miles, or been teased for hours. Really, it's only been a few minutes. The aphrodisiac is a pretty potent one, as it turns out, with some delightful and maddening side-effects.
Claude sends his lazy lover an exaggerated pout as he sits on the edge of the bed.]
A break? We only just started, Lin. [He whines, though his attention is soon drawn to Sylvain. They are awfully close, close enough to make the hairs on his arms stand on end, his body anticipating and eager for a touch that doesn't come.
He shudders at the way Sylvain says his name, struggling to inch himself just that little bit closer, to meet him partway. Claude's a bit shorter, having to stand more on the balls of his feet.
Their lips crash together, sloppy and bruising, both of them too eager for any amount of finesse. Claude groans, straining his back and neck to keep the position.]
[Well, well. It seems that putting them so close together was a good idea after all.
Linhardt doesn't bother replying to his lovers' comments, not when they're busying themselves straining to maintain a delightfully messy kiss. In the end it'll only frustrate them more, but he suspects the aphrodisiac isn't doing much for the logic centers of their minds at the moment.
While he watches, Linhardt decides to open his jacket and slip out of it, followed by his vest. He then unbuttons his white shirt about halfway down, giving his skin some room to breathe.]
You know what? I don't think I can just sit here and watch.
[Rising from his seat on the bed, he steps behind Claude first. Pressing up behind him, he lets the bulge in his pants press against the other man's ass. One hand moves over his chest so he can slowly rub and pinch his nipples one at a time, while the other curls around his swollen cock. His touch is so very soft and light down there, and while resting his chin on Claude's shoulder, he smirks over at Sylvain with amusement dancing in his eyes.]
[Sylvain has absolutely no idea how much time passes in that messy kiss. He's dizzy and warm and all he can think of is the taste of his equally desperate lover.
His lips are sore and tender by the time they part, and the brown of Sylvain's eyes is almost completely drowned out by his pupils. He makes a soft questioning sort of sound, blinking slowly. What does Linhardt mean? Is he going to join them?
Apparently yes, but not in a way that's really going to help, of course. Sylvain isn't even being touched and he whimpers, watching with rapt attention as Linhardt teases Claude, touch so soft and so infuriating. Sylvain wants to have that touch, and to be the one with Claude's cock in hand, in equal measure.
His tongue peeks out to wet already shiny lips, and then his eyes slide back up. Lin's expression sets his heart to frantic beating, and he feels yet more heat in his face. He swallows through a thickness, wanting to speak but unable to find words. ]
[Claude is too busy trying to chase after Sylvain's retreating lips to notice what Linhardt's doing at first, but his attention is abruptly shifted to his long-haired lover when he presses up against him from behind. Claude practically melts into the touch, shuddering and whining-- the scrape of Linhardt's clothes on his skin is almost too much in itself, but the spikes of pain and pleasure from those long, clever fingers teasing at his nipples and cock making him jolt and writhe against him.]
Oh-- Lin! P-Please-- [He whimpers, trying to thrust against that featherlight touch. Claude is far from a quiet lover, but the aphrodisiac has him already unable to hold back any desperate, wanting sound. Every pinch to his nipples makes him curse and groan. Hooded eyes catch Sylvain watching him and, if it's even possible, the flush on his cheeks darkens. He moans at the sight of Sylvain's tongue darting out, wanting to feel that mouth on him, anywhere, everywhere.]
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Claude sends his lazy lover an exaggerated pout as he sits on the edge of the bed.]
A break? We only just started, Lin. [He whines, though his attention is soon drawn to Sylvain. They are awfully close, close enough to make the hairs on his arms stand on end, his body anticipating and eager for a touch that doesn't come.
He shudders at the way Sylvain says his name, struggling to inch himself just that little bit closer, to meet him partway. Claude's a bit shorter, having to stand more on the balls of his feet.
Their lips crash together, sloppy and bruising, both of them too eager for any amount of finesse. Claude groans, straining his back and neck to keep the position.]
no subject
Linhardt doesn't bother replying to his lovers' comments, not when they're busying themselves straining to maintain a delightfully messy kiss. In the end it'll only frustrate them more, but he suspects the aphrodisiac isn't doing much for the logic centers of their minds at the moment.
While he watches, Linhardt decides to open his jacket and slip out of it, followed by his vest. He then unbuttons his white shirt about halfway down, giving his skin some room to breathe.]
You know what? I don't think I can just sit here and watch.
[Rising from his seat on the bed, he steps behind Claude first. Pressing up behind him, he lets the bulge in his pants press against the other man's ass. One hand moves over his chest so he can slowly rub and pinch his nipples one at a time, while the other curls around his swollen cock. His touch is so very soft and light down there, and while resting his chin on Claude's shoulder, he smirks over at Sylvain with amusement dancing in his eyes.]
no subject
His lips are sore and tender by the time they part, and the brown of Sylvain's eyes is almost completely drowned out by his pupils. He makes a soft questioning sort of sound, blinking slowly. What does Linhardt mean? Is he going to join them?
Apparently yes, but not in a way that's really going to help, of course. Sylvain isn't even being touched and he whimpers, watching with rapt attention as Linhardt teases Claude, touch so soft and so infuriating. Sylvain wants to have that touch, and to be the one with Claude's cock in hand, in equal measure.
His tongue peeks out to wet already shiny lips, and then his eyes slide back up. Lin's expression sets his heart to frantic beating, and he feels yet more heat in his face. He swallows through a thickness, wanting to speak but unable to find words. ]
no subject
Oh-- Lin! P-Please-- [He whimpers, trying to thrust against that featherlight touch. Claude is far from a quiet lover, but the aphrodisiac has him already unable to hold back any desperate, wanting sound. Every pinch to his nipples makes him curse and groan. Hooded eyes catch Sylvain watching him and, if it's even possible, the flush on his cheeks darkens. He moans at the sight of Sylvain's tongue darting out, wanting to feel that mouth on him, anywhere, everywhere.]