He doesn’t. Stop. At least not for long – but just enough to shift to the floor beneath the table. It’s not a fantasy or a result of anything even remotely well-deliberated, just an impulse, plain and simple, an urge. He can certainly feel how much Claude has missed him in return and he’s growing almost desperate to feel it in his mouth, too, that sharp ache in his jaw and the sense of stretch, of Claude’s girth pressing into his throat. Like last time they slept together, all rational thoughts have been pushed aside, his vision narrowed down to the two of them. To Claude, here, next to him and the heat of arousal rushing through his body.

Leaning in, his hair brushing up against the edge of the table, he undoes the last few remaining buttons on Claude’s breeches, gaze completely focused on the task. At hand. Sure, his legs may be sticking out from underneath the table cloth but truthfully, unless someone actively pulls him away right this second, he simply can’t bring himself to care. Another hasty breath, another flick of his wrist and finally, the white fabric falls away to reveal Claude’s gorgeous cock underneath. Lines upon lines of naked hardness.

“Oh, you truly have. Missed me.” Spoken with a slight smile, voice sounding several notches lower than usual. Leaning in, ignoring the way the table edge digs into the back of his scalp, he presses a kiss to the underside of Claude’s cock, the skin warm and soft against his lips.