He’s decided that he loves the sensation of Claude’s lips against his ear – his voice, deep and breathy sending shivers down his spine as a thoroughly physical response. With a slight smile, he nods and proceeds down the hall. It’s certainly closed away properly, this place. There’s something very comforting about that, even as it confirms what he’s always known and despised about himself; that it’s a vice, that society would surely tear down the entire establishment if given the chance and enough of a reason. All the same, he can’t quite tear his eyes away from the blinking bronze of the door handles, the shining dark mahogany… It may be illicit, yes, but if nothing else it isn’t dirty.

Pausing by the door, what he presumes to be the final barrier between the outside world and their destination, he takes a moment to simply breathe. In and out, a longer exhalation. Relaxes his shoulders again, keeps his chin raised. Claude’s taken him to this place. Surely, if Vincent ends up disappointed, it’ll be a first between them and even then, should worse come to worst, the doors aren’t locked. He can always leave.

Except, he thinks as he swallows down his nerves and opens the door, the steps he’s already taken with the other man can’t be retraced or taken away. While there’s always the doubtful opportunity of choosing the monotony he’s been caught up in his whole life, there’s really no way back from here. No matter what this place is like… He’s already irrevocably changed. Another deep breath. Then, he steps inside.