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I’d feel embarrassed if it didn’t make Claude groan.

“Wanna move to my room? Bed’s more comfortable.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t say I had a preference for one surface or another. “Sure.”

Truthfully, I had no idea how I made it to Claude’s room. I was too focused on how their fingers felt when they grabbed my hand. Their fingers were more slender than mine, but their hold was somehow firmer—definitely more confident than anything I could’ve come up with.

“I really want to play with you,” Claude groaned as they walked me into their room.

It wasn’t what I’d expected exactly. With all the fantasy hair colors and more daring fashion choices, I would’ve thought their room would be more chaotic. It was almost zen—the kind of rooms that yoga instructors had in movies. Very neutral, woody colors. Very minimalist. Harmonious? Was that a thing?

A king-sized mattress took up the center of the room. There was a desk with a computer set up facing one of the walls, but that was the only thing disrupting the mood. It didn’t completely, though—the computer was covered in a light wooden case. The screen saver was on, too, playing some waves on loop.

“Wow.”

Ideally, I would’ve kept my impressions to myself.

Too late now, I supposed.

Claude’s eyes darted from my face to the room and then back to me. “I’ve been experimenting since I moved here.”

They didn’t elaborate more than that, and I was soon distracted when they grabbed me and twirled us around until my knees hit the mattress. I wish I could say I fell on the bed gracefully.

I did not.

Claude didn’t comment on that, either, but their lips lifted up at the corners. They had one dimple that was more pronounced than the other. It was more visible when they leaned forward.

“I’m assuming I can kiss you again?”

I nodded right away, fast. There were no thoughts involved there. My whole body was vibrating with the need for more of whatever they wanted to give me.

Claude’s words played in a loop in my head. I really want to play with you. I didn’t bother to replicate the sentiment out loud. It would be redundant.

My breath hitched when their lips met mine again. Claude’s hands rested on my body. One hand cupped my jaw while another rested on my waist.

“Let me know if you need me to move at any time,” they whispered.

A shiver racked down my spine.

“Yeah.” My hands found their thighs, where they’d said it was okay to touch earlier. “You too.”

The nod in response was almost imperceptible, but it was there. It was all I needed, so I let myself be guided down until my back hit the duvet. Claude’s lips were there as their hands explored. I squeezed their thighs.

I wasn’t used to slow, to someone taking their time.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I…”

“It won’t make me uncomfortable,” Claude hummed. For once, I hadn’t even thought of it. “I want to give you what you want.”

“You want to torture me with it, is what you mean.”

Claude tsked. “Such big words.”

They were smirking, though. I wasn’t sure if anyone had ever told them—or if I wanted to be the one who did it—but they weren’t fooling anyone.

“Bring it on, then.”