[ Anakin puts away his cup with Zbi, the bedside table looking suddenly in use and not empty, although it's in the side of the bed that Claude usually leaves untouched. There's a kind of familiar feeling of togetherness in that. In inviting Anakin in, allowing him close, allowing him to fill out that relentless void that Claude has just accepted, at some point. He knows when. He knows why.
Feeling the other man draw closer, close enough that there's the pressure of Anakin's nose against his cheek, like he's sniffing him the same way Claude has done Anakin's food, Claude feels his heart speed up, his pulse definitely going, blood to all the right places, as his cock hardens to the point of discomfort. Claude doesn't shift, though, he remains seated, feels the presence of him, the hoarse quality of his voice making his skin tingle.
When you're done, he says, we could...
Claude smiles, turning his head to the side a little until his lips are brushing over the corner of Anakin's mouth, there's the faint taste of that spicy tea, there. Honey-like sweetness, tinge of oil. His words sound slightly breathless when he speaks: ]
I'm done.
[ And carefully he reaches up with both hands, slipping all ten fingers into Anakin's hair that isn't half as messy as his own by some kind of magic, Jedi magic, probably, and tilts the other man's face to the side just slightly before kissing him, pressing his lips to his mouth, parting his own and opening up to him.
All the while, he's conscious of the tray between them, taking care not to knock it over and waste a single of Anakin's efforts. For some reason, that feels like the most important thing now. More important than anything that came before. ]
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Feeling the other man draw closer, close enough that there's the pressure of Anakin's nose against his cheek, like he's sniffing him the same way Claude has done Anakin's food, Claude feels his heart speed up, his pulse definitely going, blood to all the right places, as his cock hardens to the point of discomfort. Claude doesn't shift, though, he remains seated, feels the presence of him, the hoarse quality of his voice making his skin tingle.
When you're done, he says, we could...
Claude smiles, turning his head to the side a little until his lips are brushing over the corner of Anakin's mouth, there's the faint taste of that spicy tea, there. Honey-like sweetness, tinge of oil. His words sound slightly breathless when he speaks: ]
I'm done.
[ And carefully he reaches up with both hands, slipping all ten fingers into Anakin's hair that isn't half as messy as his own by some kind of magic, Jedi magic, probably, and tilts the other man's face to the side just slightly before kissing him, pressing his lips to his mouth, parting his own and opening up to him.
All the while, he's conscious of the tray between them, taking care not to knock it over and waste a single of Anakin's efforts. For some reason, that feels like the most important thing now. More important than anything that came before. ]