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NSFW Claude Week, June 5: Body Hair
To explain his entire and current situation, Claude suspects that he would have to write an entire book about it.
Oh, sure, he could probably summarize - and he's had to, on more than once occasion, because that's the way of his life. Yet somehow it just doesn't really capture the miraculous absurdity of his life.
"I suddenly arrived in a strange land" is nothing special.
"I arrived in a strange land by way of waking up in a bed that was not my own, in a house belonging to a peculiar woman who thought I was her son and thus shoved a backpack into my arms and then me out the door, locking it behind me" really drives home the absolute asinine nature of the whole thing.
And yet that's the truth of it. The asinine truth. If there's any luck to Claude's situation, it's that he was able to reunite with some familiar faces - primarily Sylvain, who was kicked out of the door shortly after he was, despite the fact that Claude didn't see him anywhere else in the house prior, and then Dimitri, who had come to fetch them almost immediately. Of course, that had quickly gone south when it was revealed that their timelines all different from what they remembered.... Especially with Dimitri from right before Gronder... But familiar faces were still familiar faces, and Felix's had soon joined theirs.
Besides, who could complain with such a fascinating world? Claude almost hadn't known where to look first: the culture that lead to such different homes than Fodlan or Almyra? The unbelievable leap in technology where he could speak to someone, see their face, using only a tiny thing that could fit in his hand?
Or the fast variety of incredible creatures that were so ingrained in this land's way of life, that could breathe fire or lift things with their minds or generate electricity? Those incredible creatures called Pokemon?
So yeah... Of course. It's a whole lot to think about, when he reflects on the things that have happened. Who knows? Maybe it would take more than just the one book, especially knowing how wordy he can get. The people in this world have certainly written that much about Pokemon alone. And Claude has more to write about than just Pokemon... He has his own romantic life to write about, too.
Like the fact that he now has four boyfriends in this place.
Sometimes Claude thinks about it and laughs. How could he have ever predicted any of them would happen? No one would have thought that Dimitri, still angry and feral and also convinced this was the afterlife, would have bothered to care for what Claude even thought, and yet here he was, recovering steadily and all while holding Claude's hand. Sylvain and Felix had almost gotten their shit together maybe a month since they'd all arrived, pursuing a romance they'd probably had since they were children. They alone would have all been a surprise, and yet there's one more person as well. Someone who caught Claude by surprise on a more personal level.
When Claude stumbles upon Grant, it's because he's one of the few people actually relaxing at the inn room that they got for their trip into Cerulean City. The older man is relaxed in his seat, flicking through something on his Pokegear as its propped up by a little stand. Nearby on the window stand is Willow, his Litwick, who's watching her reflection in the window as she wiggles about in her weird little wax shapes and laughs. At least, it sounds like laughter to Claude's ears, or its equivalent.
Grant is already looking up from the Pokegear at the click of his door as Claude opens it, and he smiles. It's a good smile, full, one that manages to beat his reflexive need to cover the extra large canines that jut out from one part of his mouth. "Hey, Claude. How did the visit to the Jenny Academy go- oh, okay, we're doing this now."
Laughter tinges the end of his words, and that would be because Claude has wasted absolutely no time in going over, leaning down, and tugging Grant's sweatshirt up in order to crawl down into it, wiggling further up in the area between comfy and very stretchable cotton and Grant's bare skin. Well, bare skin and the wealth of curly hair that rolls all across the comforting weight of his stomach and plush chest. It tickles against Claude's hands and cheek as he makes his journey upwards, just soft enough to not be a bother. If anything, he likes it. Maybe is a little envious, sometimes.
But mostly he's glad for the extra insulation, especially as he finally manages to breach through the hole at the top in order to bury his face against Grant's neck and whine.
"Grant," he says pitifully. "Grant. I have been dying."
He hasn't bothered to do anything with his body and the sleeves of the sweater, so Grant is free to move his arms and gently pat the Claude-lump that has now invaded his sweater. It's a very gentle gesture, although slightly mishmashed against the warm and soft laughter that rolls through him. "I'm sure you have. I'm going to assume that-" His words are cut off by a soft yelp, and he stares down incredulously, his one good eye wide and very quickly incredulous. "Claude, your hands are freezing."
That's undoubtedly a problem because of the fact that Claude has pressed one of those hand all up onto Grant's chest. It's a great feeling, for him, on account that Grant is just made for insulating warmth. The cozy chest hair? The comfortable layer of fat that makes up his pecs? That Grant can grow a short beard - which looks very handsome on him, Claude must say - proves that he's winning in the war against winter.
You know, apparently so long as winter stays as firmly a weather phenomenon, and not Claude's hand, exposed to the elements, freezing and making Grant's nipple perk up almost instantaneously in protest.
Claude isn't exactly sorry about it, and he raises his eyebrows for a max pathetic look as he stares up into Grant's eye. "I need your chest to warm me up so I don't get hypothermia," he says, as seriously as he can possibly make such a ludicrous sentence sound.
It works. A snort-laugh bursts out from Grant before he can stop himself, and there's a warmth in his gaze to match the warmth he otherwise radiates. "You know, I don't think that's quite how it works," Grant replies, reaches up to try and feel out Claude's hand through his sweater. When he finally finds the particular lump that makes up Claude's hand, he does his best to grip down and pull him away. "You could have just had a warm shower."
"And miss the chance to cuddle with you?" Grinning as well, now, Claude leans in and presses a kiss to that fuzzy jaw of his. "Never."
What a man to fall in love with, this Grant Abaroa, a man who turns his head to kiss him back as the two of them hold each other close. Claude had always known he was a good guy, of course. He was the person who had arrived near Dimitri, from a world entirely different from both Fodlan and the one they're in now, along with his own kid. That he had decided to stay with Dimitri - a complete stranger in such an obviously terrible state - spoke a lot to the kind of person he was to begin with. That, with his help, Dimitri regularly ate, and slept? That, thanks to the Munna Grant caught for him, he could rest without nightmares forcing him awake every other hour?
Claude had liked him from the start. He had just never thought he would love him from the start. Not in a bad way, of course, just... He was never really Claude's type, was he? Well, sure, he's one of the tallest people Claude knows at a stunning 6'6'', but his gentle demeanor, the way he tried to pull back into himself, and, well... Just little things like that.
Handsome, certainly, in his own way, and in a way that Claude had always acknowledged would have been incredibly popular in Almyra (unlike him, always just a little too different to be thought of as popular), just not his type.
And then, well... They'd gotten to know each other.
They'd leaned in close, excitedly talking about the different theories behind magic and how Pokemon could work. They'd gone drinking together late at night after the first bout of Sylvain and Felix stupidity, Claude groaning into his shoulder while Grant was sympathetic. They'd traversed days of roads, and caverns, all together, and huddled up around a campfire over dinner with their shoulders touching.
Funny, how it turned how that Grant absolutely was his type, in the same way water is best when slowly heated up for him to relax into. Not everything has to be a brilliant starburst of emotion right from the start.
Their kiss breaks when Claude starts to wiggle his arm through one sleeve, or at least attempts to. Pulling away as best he can when they're bound together via sweater, Grant quirks up an eyebrow. "And, uh, what exactly are you trying to do here?"
Claude winks. "Trying to make myself warmer. Remove your other arm, won't you?"
"You know, you're going to stretch out this shirt until I can't use it anymore," Grant says, even as he shifts awkwardly in order to pull his arm out just like requested. Maybe he's just curious to see what on earth Claude might be able to do like this. Well, it's simple, really. All Claude wants to do is slide his arm through, hand popping out at the end. Granted, it's not a perfect fit, on account of the size difference; the sleeve crumples up a good few times over his wrist.
That's fine. He can get his hand through it, and that's all that matters to Claude as he reaches up and takes Grant's hand in his. Cheekily, he grins up at him. "So, are my hands a little warmer now?"
Grant does that adorable little smile he makes, when his gaze flicks away from too much soft adoration, and his canine presses down into his lower lip more than it usually does. It's the kind of thing that's easy to miss, if a person isn't literally right up in his face. "Maybe a little warmer," Grant says, his chuckle rolling through Claude in a way he can't say he minds at all.
"Good," Claude says, and leans in for another kiss. Something about holding hands while kissing still sends a little thrill through him; Dimitri really was onto something when he decided that was an important part of kissing procedures with all of them. "So I'm going to take it that Dimitri, Felix, and Chip haven't come back?"
[picture goes here]
Bumping their foreheads together, Grant makes a small affirmative noise before getting some proper words out of his mouth. "Yeah - Dimitri called me a little while ago. Apparently they're going to top off their training for the day by heading over to the aquarium. Something about how there's a battle route you can take through a part of the aquarium, all water and ice trainers of course. Felix apparently wants to see what he can do with a disadvantage, so of course Chip and Dimitri have to try it too."
"Adorable," Claude says fondly, which isn't a lie. It's not really a surprise that Dimitri is so soft and sweet with a kid, even way back when he was in far worse a condition. Yet it seems like Felix has taken to Chip as well, even if he seems exasperated as they do silly things with the wooden swords Dimitri carves for them so diligently. "Any word from Sylvain on how the rental search is going in Viridian City?"
"Yeah, he called an hour or two ago. That place really is spoiled for choice in the kinds of places people can stay at while they wait for their loved ones to finish going up Victory Road, apparently. He's looking around some of the neighborhoods, having a day out with Inda. There's a whole park for little plant types like her, apparently, so he's hoping that she'll make some Tsareena friends."
"Good hear here." Even as he says it, however, Claude's mind is already churning with ideas. He's already fulfilled the thing he had planned for the day, which was to go bother the Jennies about anything Team Rocket related. Knowing Felix, Dimitri, and Chip, they'll all be at the aquarium for a while... so that just leaves him and Grant, alone, for perhaps a whole afternoon. That certainly lends itself well to more than a few things he thinks he'd rather like to try...
And Grant, very clearly, wasn't up to anything special when he entered.
Well. There's only one way to find out. From where he's nestled on Grant's lap, Claude slowly begins to shift. A subtle little thing, grinding down to where he knows his boyfriend's impressive package is just waiting to be brought to life. "So what were you doing as I came back?" he asks casually, like he isn't maybe a little thirsty.
Claude likes to think it says something about his acting abilities that Grant doesn't give any indication that he's onto Claude's game, not right away. There's a slight shift, a brief moment where he thinks he can see Grant's mind stutter, and then he's trying to look around Claude to the Pokegear he left on the table. "Oh, it's nothing much. I was just looking into some empty properties around Olivine. I mean, once you guys finish Victory Road, we'll start settling down, I imagine... and I think I'd like to start up a shop again. Maybe make something for that therapy Pokemon idea I was telling you about."
"Oh yeah, I remember," Claude says, which is true, even if he's much more preoccupied with grinding his ass subtly but insistently against Grant's junk.
It's working, he thinks. Grant shifts underneath him, body aware of what's going on even his brain is a little trapped with the property listings he has pulled up. "The main thing I'm going up against is if I want a place with a lot of land, or if I want some access to the sea. There are one or two proprties where I could have both, but they're ridiculously expensive. The land would be good for a wider variety of Pokemon, but water therapy is a thing- have I told you about that? It's mainly physical-"
A pause.
Well. Speaking of physical.
Grant stops talking, and his gaze flicks down to the space past his sweater, completely hidden from his gaze but where Claude is absolutely, getting his thighs all over his crotch, and then flicks up to Claude's face in close proximity. "So," he says, after a loaded beat. "I'm going to take it that I wasn't looking too deeply into things when I thought that you were squirming a little much."
"Oh, so you caught on much more quickly than Dimitri would have," Claude says delightedly, before he gives one more particularly hard grind and leans in for another and much hungrier kiss.
Around him, he can feel Grant's free hand pull away from his grasp, and start to fumble around him on the table. Claude isn't really thinking too much about the why there, not until he can see - even with his eyes closed - a bright flash of red light that no doubt carries Willow away so that her tiny candle child eyes can't watch something that is going to very quickly become an adults only event.
Wise choice. Claude certainly isn't going to stop kissing him, his hips rocking all the harder now that he's not trying to hold back. The hand he still has underneath the shirt rises up again, gets a good handful of Grant's chest. Underneath his palm, he can feel the hard beat of Grant's heart, and the way his soft hair moves along his fingers. "You got condoms, right?" he murmurs, inbetween their kissing. If this were anyone else, Claude wouldn't ask, but it's important to Grant, and so it's important to him, too.
Grant's mouth quirks up in a smile against his own. "I've learned to always have condoms on hand, thanks to you and Dimitri. Although it's not as though I can get them right now, considering a certain little issue."
"I have no idea what you could be implying," Claude teases, and wiggles again just to hear the noise Grant makes. "But give me a moment, and I think I can help you with that condom problem." Of course, he refuses to go as he was when he first stepped into the room. Instead, he relinquishes his grasp on Grant's chest for just a moment in order to slide his hand through Grant's other sleeve. This is a position that puts them in perfect position for another kiss, which Claude takes advantage of because he's no fool, and also their heartbeats thumping against one another.
Unfortunately, this does not serve as the perfect distraction technique, since Grant still pulls away with a laugh. "What are you doing?"
"Stealing your sweater, obviously," Claude says with a wink. It's kind of harder than he anticipated, actually, but he is nothing if not determined. Biting back laughter which rocks throughout his chest, Claude shifts in his seat so that he can stand up properly, and take the sweater with him. Most of it, anyway. It pops up over Grant's head, catching on his short and brilliantly curly ponytail for only a moment. The main issue is Grant's arm, and Claude wiggles his own in the sleeve a bit. "Come on, get that outta there!"
Claude is still wearing his own shirt, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the puff of Grant's laughter sounding off against his stomach. "The room is heated!"
"Clearly it's not heated enough," Claude announces, and cackles as he feels Grant's arm finally start to tug and fall down through the sweater. "There we go... And anyway..." Pulling the rest of the sweater over Grant's head, he steps away, and grins in complete self satisfaction. "I think you look a lot better like this, personally."
A deep flush covers Grant's cheeks at the compliment, as often happens, and, as it does every time, it looks absolutely beautiful on him from where it spreads out underneath his beard or the crookedness of his broken nose. In Claude's opinion, and one he knows Dimitri and Sylvain share, it's a damn shame Grant hasn't been subject to more blush-inducing compliments in his life. He should always look this beautiful.
That's not the only part of him looking good either, as he leans back in his seat to look up at Claude. He fills the chair so beautifully, stomach folding a bit with the curves of his body, legs spreading wide now that Claude's weight isn't pinning them in place. Sliding his hands back through the sleeves and out of sight in the sweater, Claude takes his time enjoying what a picture Grant makes. His gaze follows the trail of curly hair that goes from all across his chest, adores the way it follows the curve of his belly, and lingers right where it disappears down into Grant's pants.
Claude's not exactly making it a secret he's looking. He's not making it a secret he enjoys what he's looking at, either, making sure to swipe his tongue across his lips when he's sure Grant is looking at him. He shifts a bit, tooth in his lip again, but he doesn't shy away at all. Instead, Grant reaches up and back over his head, anchors his hand against the back of his chair. "So... Like what you see?" he asks, shifting to show off more of himself.
It's kind of silly how they get like this with each other, in a way Claude never really thought he would get with anyone: playful and teasing at the same time that they're almost gentle in their sex life, even if Grant is more than happy to pound him into the mattress if Claude asks. Claude adores it, even as he snaps open the buttons on his pants.
"Saying that I like it would be a rather unfair understatement, don't you think?" he says, and his pants drop down to pool around his ankles.
He doesn't regret the gesture, not really. It just turns out that it's a pain in the ass to step out of them when he hasn't actually bothered to take his boots off, too. Which. Whoops. Grant laughs a little bit at him as he stumbles out of his pants, and doesn't seem the least bit apologetic when Claude whines at him about it.
Fine. That's fine. Claude gets his revenge when he's finally completely bare from the waist down, and no small amount of satisfaction goes through him when he sees the way Grant's eye is focused on his legs as he trots over to his boyfriend's backpack. They've done this song and dance before; he knows where to look. Soon enough, he's pulling out a packet with one (1) wonderfully large condom waiting within its plastic, and the small bottle of lube that goes with it.
Still.... While he wants what he wants, there's ways to make that kind of thing all the sweeter. So Claude doesn't take his finds back to Grant right away, oh no.
Instead, he stays right where he is with his legs kept absolutely straight and his wonderful little ass right there in the air as he remains bent over as though he still needs to keep looking. On him, Grant's shirts are practically dresses, falling past his waist and hanging around the tops of his thighs. Yet in certain positions, well, not even they can stay on him perfectly covering everything...
Claude takes full advantage of that as he shifts from one leg to the other, feels Grant's sweater slide along his legs and expose his thighs, his ass, just a hint of his balls - underwear of course discarded along with his pants early on. Grant isn't a particularly noisy lover, but that's fine. It just means it's all the sweeter for him when he finally turns around, and sees the other man lightly palming himself, thick brows drawn together in concentration.
Swanning right on over, Claude leans down enough with the neck of the sweater falling down just enough to no doubt offer up a lovely view of his own chest. "While I'm grateful you helped take a little more work off my hands," he purrs, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Grant's wrist, "I rather like to be hands on with this sort of thing."
Grant lets out a hard breath, deep from in him, but doesn't fight Claude in the slightest. "And I know how hands on you can get," he says, smiling again now that Claude is paying attention to him instead of just playing around.
"Is that a complaint I hear?" Claude asks, exchanging the lube and condom to Grant's hand so that his own are free to tug down his zipper.
"Hey- I didn't say anything like that."
And then Grant isn't really saying much of anything, words lost to the low moan that tumbles out of his mouth as Claude finally frees him from the pressure of his jeans. Without thinking, Claude licks his lips at the thick bulge that presses out, trapped still behind Grant's underwear. He can still remember the first time they laid together, the jump in his heart and his cock when Grant had grumbled that the condoms wouldn't fit. It's one thing to see, another to press his palm down and grind down against that nice hefty weight.
The better part of feeling instead of looking is how Grant shifts his hips up, expectant in the palm of Claude's hand. "So - slow night or fast?" he asks, adjusting his hand so that he can reach to his ponytail and tug away the tie keeping it in place. It doesn't quite fall into a loose cascade around his face; apparently only Felix's hair is capable of that particular and magic aesthetic. Yet Claude stills like the way those curls go to frame his face a little more, how they brush against his neck and under ears that are just a smidge pointed.
Claude admires and adores it, even as he reaches up to sink his hands onto those perfectly soft and gropable pecs. His fingers just sink against them, not lacking for anything to hold onto. Grant fills his hands perfectly, in every way he could mean. The soft curly fuzz that tickles Claude's palms, and the warm skin beneath that is just the right level of soft and dry. With one hand, Claude squeezes, just to enjoy the feeling. With the other, he twists it to the side, flicks his thumb across the pert nipple waiting for him. Grant shifts under his ministrations, soft noises of pleasure leaking out of him. That's not good enough for Claude, not yet. He continues to toy with Grant's chest, knead and pinch and appreciate, until Grant's breath is shaky where it whistles between out of place teeth.
[picture here]
"We'll probably want to go at least a little fast," he decides eventually. "But I can handle that." With that, he finally slips his fingers underneath the waistband of Grant's boxer-briefs, and pulls.
That nice, thick, long cock could probably get a little harder... with some effort. Claude can still enjoy it in the state it's in, however, bending down just like when he was retrieving the condom to press an open mouthed and sloppy kiss to the tip. There's a little bit of foreskin to handle while he's down there. It would practically be bad manners if he ignored it, wouldn't it? So Claude swallows the tip up, presses his lips down against that loose skin and flicks his tongue beneath the folds until he hears Grant groan.
Pulling away, Claude keeps his mouth open, tongue hanging out lewdly as a thick string of spit drips forth down from it and connects him to Grant's cock - now a good bit harder than it was, and it was already fairly hard. When he sucks in hard, the string snaps. There are only a few things so satisfying as seeing the way Grant's cock twitch at the sensation of it hitting him again, how his hips jerk a little. He grins. "I think your cock is all ready for a condom, Grant."
Grant's breaths are coming out hard, now, lips parted and chest heaving. That doesn't stop his lips from quirking up in an amused grin. "Just - being a generous soul and helping out, are you?" he asks, remembering the condom is in his hand and ripping open the wrapper.
"Oh, absolutely nothing more than that," Claude answers, grinning as he reaches down to drag the hem of the sweater up his stomach. A small jolt of electric pleasure runs through his cock as the tip slides against cloth, and then it's right there between them, a teasing treat to encourage those nice, solid fingers to get the condom on all the faster. He wasn't joking when he said he was thinking of going fast tonight. It's why his free hand goes for that bottle of lube, popping it open with his teeth.
Rough and fast is how Claude's always liked it. That's a good thing, considering they're trying to get one in before Grant's kid has even a chance of getting back to the inn. In hindsight, Claude supposes he should have dragged Grant off to his room, but... Oh well.
This works too, with Grant's fingers quickly smoothing the condom over his cock, and Claude sliding a finger into himself with a shudder.
Once upon a time, Claude might have had to really stretch himself out to get ready for something as big as Grant. But, well... Practice makes perfect. Taking nice thick dick all the time makes his ass ready for it, helped by a more than generous heaping of libido. All Claude really does is slick his hole up, moaning as he palms the base of his own cock. Just a little something to help him get in the mood... Something like that.
What really gets him in the mood, however, is the heat behind Grant's eyes as he watches him, although his hands stay perfectly still - perfectly gentlemanly, even as his fingers rest around his shaft's base with a few idle rubs just to keep it ready to go. It'd be mean, to leave him like that.
...Which of course means that, the second he's turned around with his ass in Grant's face, ready to fuck his own brains out, there's a knock on the inn door.
Grant smooshes his hand against his face, muffling his frustrated groan. Understandable, considering the tip of him is brushing right up against Claude's asshole. Claude manages a little better, although it takes a deep breath through the nose before he can fake it enough to be believable. "Hello, how can we help you?"
Proving that they haven't managed to be entirely forsaken, it's not the voice of some random stranger or housekeeping, but rather their other boyfriend that rings out past wood - and, you know, the in door too. "Oh, hello, Claude! May I come in?"
Something, something, gift Ponytas in the mouth, right? Claude starts to grin, maybe a little too wide. "Sure!" he says, grinding his hips down just a little bit against Grant's arousal, and delights in the soft choking he hears behind him. "Just make sure to close the door behind you."
Poor Dimitri. He has no idea what he's stepping into, glancing behind him into the hallway as he opens the door and walks in. "It's good that the two of you are together, I was going to-" Aaaaand there's his brain crashing, staring as he finally realizes just what he's walked in on. Staring at them - Claude about to reverse cowboy down onto Grant's dick, a sweater three times too big draped over him, and Grant reclined in a chair, shirtless with every thick and soft curve of his body on display, prying his hands from his embarrassed face.
Dimitri slams the door behind him so hard it's a miracle its hinges don't break.
That's something Claude is going to take as a good sign. Grinning, he begins to slooooooowly lower himself down onto Grant's erect cock. "Hey there, Dima," he says, maybe a tad breathlessly. "You're back early, and just you."
"Mm," Dimitri manages, brain clearly fracturing into a million pieces as he watches whatever interesting face Grant is making. Coherent thought starts up again a few seconds later. "I was - wet. Fell in a remoraid tank. Am I -" He struggles for a moment, probably not helped as he watches Grant reaches around, fingers nudging up the hem of his now solidly stolen sweater to grip tight on Claude's thigh. "...Did you all want to get dinner?"
Claude actually has to pause his descent onto Grant's dick so that his sudden wheeze of laughter doesn't make him topple over, and potentially injure both of them. He can actually feel the way Grant lets out a startled laugh, the vibrations traveling up his dick and into Claude a bit.
It's the kind of ridiculously silly question that can only come from a man completely caught off-guard, and Dimitri covers his face in his hand, red faced and grimacing. Grant is quicker than Claude when it comes to this particular draw, reassuring him with, "It's fine, Dimitri. I know this is- a surprise." Which is the lightest term to use in this sort of situation, but probably the best one, too.
"I should have known," is all Dimitri groans. The good news is that his mortification doesn't last long. His hand slides down his face a bit, one brilliantly blue eye peering inbetween his fingers. "...Would the two of you rather I - leave?"
Breath recovered, Claude surveys their boyfriend once more. He takes in the fire behind that one eye, the way Dimitri shifts in place, what he could swear is a slight bulge pressing out from what are indeed a slightly damp pair of pants. Licking his lips, he adjusts his footing, and sinks back a little further. Behind him, Grant's breath catches. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to, Dimitri," Claude says, voice wound a little tight. He spreads his legs, adjusts the sweater until it's parted to show his own wet cock, and the space where Grant's is sliding into him.
"In fact, I think we'd rather like it if you stayed."
His body is probably going to regret this, Claude reflects as Dimitri's eye lights up and Grant's hands grip onto him a little tighter on his thigh and at his waist. He just doesn't think the rest of him will.
Oh, sure, he could probably summarize - and he's had to, on more than once occasion, because that's the way of his life. Yet somehow it just doesn't really capture the miraculous absurdity of his life.
"I suddenly arrived in a strange land" is nothing special.
"I arrived in a strange land by way of waking up in a bed that was not my own, in a house belonging to a peculiar woman who thought I was her son and thus shoved a backpack into my arms and then me out the door, locking it behind me" really drives home the absolute asinine nature of the whole thing.
And yet that's the truth of it. The asinine truth. If there's any luck to Claude's situation, it's that he was able to reunite with some familiar faces - primarily Sylvain, who was kicked out of the door shortly after he was, despite the fact that Claude didn't see him anywhere else in the house prior, and then Dimitri, who had come to fetch them almost immediately. Of course, that had quickly gone south when it was revealed that their timelines all different from what they remembered.... Especially with Dimitri from right before Gronder... But familiar faces were still familiar faces, and Felix's had soon joined theirs.
Besides, who could complain with such a fascinating world? Claude almost hadn't known where to look first: the culture that lead to such different homes than Fodlan or Almyra? The unbelievable leap in technology where he could speak to someone, see their face, using only a tiny thing that could fit in his hand?
Or the fast variety of incredible creatures that were so ingrained in this land's way of life, that could breathe fire or lift things with their minds or generate electricity? Those incredible creatures called Pokemon?
So yeah... Of course. It's a whole lot to think about, when he reflects on the things that have happened. Who knows? Maybe it would take more than just the one book, especially knowing how wordy he can get. The people in this world have certainly written that much about Pokemon alone. And Claude has more to write about than just Pokemon... He has his own romantic life to write about, too.
Like the fact that he now has four boyfriends in this place.
Sometimes Claude thinks about it and laughs. How could he have ever predicted any of them would happen? No one would have thought that Dimitri, still angry and feral and also convinced this was the afterlife, would have bothered to care for what Claude even thought, and yet here he was, recovering steadily and all while holding Claude's hand. Sylvain and Felix had almost gotten their shit together maybe a month since they'd all arrived, pursuing a romance they'd probably had since they were children. They alone would have all been a surprise, and yet there's one more person as well. Someone who caught Claude by surprise on a more personal level.
When Claude stumbles upon Grant, it's because he's one of the few people actually relaxing at the inn room that they got for their trip into Cerulean City. The older man is relaxed in his seat, flicking through something on his Pokegear as its propped up by a little stand. Nearby on the window stand is Willow, his Litwick, who's watching her reflection in the window as she wiggles about in her weird little wax shapes and laughs. At least, it sounds like laughter to Claude's ears, or its equivalent.
Grant is already looking up from the Pokegear at the click of his door as Claude opens it, and he smiles. It's a good smile, full, one that manages to beat his reflexive need to cover the extra large canines that jut out from one part of his mouth. "Hey, Claude. How did the visit to the Jenny Academy go- oh, okay, we're doing this now."
Laughter tinges the end of his words, and that would be because Claude has wasted absolutely no time in going over, leaning down, and tugging Grant's sweatshirt up in order to crawl down into it, wiggling further up in the area between comfy and very stretchable cotton and Grant's bare skin. Well, bare skin and the wealth of curly hair that rolls all across the comforting weight of his stomach and plush chest. It tickles against Claude's hands and cheek as he makes his journey upwards, just soft enough to not be a bother. If anything, he likes it. Maybe is a little envious, sometimes.
But mostly he's glad for the extra insulation, especially as he finally manages to breach through the hole at the top in order to bury his face against Grant's neck and whine.
"Grant," he says pitifully. "Grant. I have been dying."
He hasn't bothered to do anything with his body and the sleeves of the sweater, so Grant is free to move his arms and gently pat the Claude-lump that has now invaded his sweater. It's a very gentle gesture, although slightly mishmashed against the warm and soft laughter that rolls through him. "I'm sure you have. I'm going to assume that-" His words are cut off by a soft yelp, and he stares down incredulously, his one good eye wide and very quickly incredulous. "Claude, your hands are freezing."
That's undoubtedly a problem because of the fact that Claude has pressed one of those hand all up onto Grant's chest. It's a great feeling, for him, on account that Grant is just made for insulating warmth. The cozy chest hair? The comfortable layer of fat that makes up his pecs? That Grant can grow a short beard - which looks very handsome on him, Claude must say - proves that he's winning in the war against winter.
You know, apparently so long as winter stays as firmly a weather phenomenon, and not Claude's hand, exposed to the elements, freezing and making Grant's nipple perk up almost instantaneously in protest.
Claude isn't exactly sorry about it, and he raises his eyebrows for a max pathetic look as he stares up into Grant's eye. "I need your chest to warm me up so I don't get hypothermia," he says, as seriously as he can possibly make such a ludicrous sentence sound.
It works. A snort-laugh bursts out from Grant before he can stop himself, and there's a warmth in his gaze to match the warmth he otherwise radiates. "You know, I don't think that's quite how it works," Grant replies, reaches up to try and feel out Claude's hand through his sweater. When he finally finds the particular lump that makes up Claude's hand, he does his best to grip down and pull him away. "You could have just had a warm shower."
"And miss the chance to cuddle with you?" Grinning as well, now, Claude leans in and presses a kiss to that fuzzy jaw of his. "Never."
What a man to fall in love with, this Grant Abaroa, a man who turns his head to kiss him back as the two of them hold each other close. Claude had always known he was a good guy, of course. He was the person who had arrived near Dimitri, from a world entirely different from both Fodlan and the one they're in now, along with his own kid. That he had decided to stay with Dimitri - a complete stranger in such an obviously terrible state - spoke a lot to the kind of person he was to begin with. That, with his help, Dimitri regularly ate, and slept? That, thanks to the Munna Grant caught for him, he could rest without nightmares forcing him awake every other hour?
Claude had liked him from the start. He had just never thought he would love him from the start. Not in a bad way, of course, just... He was never really Claude's type, was he? Well, sure, he's one of the tallest people Claude knows at a stunning 6'6'', but his gentle demeanor, the way he tried to pull back into himself, and, well... Just little things like that.
Handsome, certainly, in his own way, and in a way that Claude had always acknowledged would have been incredibly popular in Almyra (unlike him, always just a little too different to be thought of as popular), just not his type.
And then, well... They'd gotten to know each other.
They'd leaned in close, excitedly talking about the different theories behind magic and how Pokemon could work. They'd gone drinking together late at night after the first bout of Sylvain and Felix stupidity, Claude groaning into his shoulder while Grant was sympathetic. They'd traversed days of roads, and caverns, all together, and huddled up around a campfire over dinner with their shoulders touching.
Funny, how it turned how that Grant absolutely was his type, in the same way water is best when slowly heated up for him to relax into. Not everything has to be a brilliant starburst of emotion right from the start.
Their kiss breaks when Claude starts to wiggle his arm through one sleeve, or at least attempts to. Pulling away as best he can when they're bound together via sweater, Grant quirks up an eyebrow. "And, uh, what exactly are you trying to do here?"
Claude winks. "Trying to make myself warmer. Remove your other arm, won't you?"
"You know, you're going to stretch out this shirt until I can't use it anymore," Grant says, even as he shifts awkwardly in order to pull his arm out just like requested. Maybe he's just curious to see what on earth Claude might be able to do like this. Well, it's simple, really. All Claude wants to do is slide his arm through, hand popping out at the end. Granted, it's not a perfect fit, on account of the size difference; the sleeve crumples up a good few times over his wrist.
That's fine. He can get his hand through it, and that's all that matters to Claude as he reaches up and takes Grant's hand in his. Cheekily, he grins up at him. "So, are my hands a little warmer now?"
Grant does that adorable little smile he makes, when his gaze flicks away from too much soft adoration, and his canine presses down into his lower lip more than it usually does. It's the kind of thing that's easy to miss, if a person isn't literally right up in his face. "Maybe a little warmer," Grant says, his chuckle rolling through Claude in a way he can't say he minds at all.
"Good," Claude says, and leans in for another kiss. Something about holding hands while kissing still sends a little thrill through him; Dimitri really was onto something when he decided that was an important part of kissing procedures with all of them. "So I'm going to take it that Dimitri, Felix, and Chip haven't come back?"
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Bumping their foreheads together, Grant makes a small affirmative noise before getting some proper words out of his mouth. "Yeah - Dimitri called me a little while ago. Apparently they're going to top off their training for the day by heading over to the aquarium. Something about how there's a battle route you can take through a part of the aquarium, all water and ice trainers of course. Felix apparently wants to see what he can do with a disadvantage, so of course Chip and Dimitri have to try it too."
"Adorable," Claude says fondly, which isn't a lie. It's not really a surprise that Dimitri is so soft and sweet with a kid, even way back when he was in far worse a condition. Yet it seems like Felix has taken to Chip as well, even if he seems exasperated as they do silly things with the wooden swords Dimitri carves for them so diligently. "Any word from Sylvain on how the rental search is going in Viridian City?"
"Yeah, he called an hour or two ago. That place really is spoiled for choice in the kinds of places people can stay at while they wait for their loved ones to finish going up Victory Road, apparently. He's looking around some of the neighborhoods, having a day out with Inda. There's a whole park for little plant types like her, apparently, so he's hoping that she'll make some Tsareena friends."
"Good hear here." Even as he says it, however, Claude's mind is already churning with ideas. He's already fulfilled the thing he had planned for the day, which was to go bother the Jennies about anything Team Rocket related. Knowing Felix, Dimitri, and Chip, they'll all be at the aquarium for a while... so that just leaves him and Grant, alone, for perhaps a whole afternoon. That certainly lends itself well to more than a few things he thinks he'd rather like to try...
And Grant, very clearly, wasn't up to anything special when he entered.
Well. There's only one way to find out. From where he's nestled on Grant's lap, Claude slowly begins to shift. A subtle little thing, grinding down to where he knows his boyfriend's impressive package is just waiting to be brought to life. "So what were you doing as I came back?" he asks casually, like he isn't maybe a little thirsty.
Claude likes to think it says something about his acting abilities that Grant doesn't give any indication that he's onto Claude's game, not right away. There's a slight shift, a brief moment where he thinks he can see Grant's mind stutter, and then he's trying to look around Claude to the Pokegear he left on the table. "Oh, it's nothing much. I was just looking into some empty properties around Olivine. I mean, once you guys finish Victory Road, we'll start settling down, I imagine... and I think I'd like to start up a shop again. Maybe make something for that therapy Pokemon idea I was telling you about."
"Oh yeah, I remember," Claude says, which is true, even if he's much more preoccupied with grinding his ass subtly but insistently against Grant's junk.
It's working, he thinks. Grant shifts underneath him, body aware of what's going on even his brain is a little trapped with the property listings he has pulled up. "The main thing I'm going up against is if I want a place with a lot of land, or if I want some access to the sea. There are one or two proprties where I could have both, but they're ridiculously expensive. The land would be good for a wider variety of Pokemon, but water therapy is a thing- have I told you about that? It's mainly physical-"
A pause.
Well. Speaking of physical.
Grant stops talking, and his gaze flicks down to the space past his sweater, completely hidden from his gaze but where Claude is absolutely, getting his thighs all over his crotch, and then flicks up to Claude's face in close proximity. "So," he says, after a loaded beat. "I'm going to take it that I wasn't looking too deeply into things when I thought that you were squirming a little much."
"Oh, so you caught on much more quickly than Dimitri would have," Claude says delightedly, before he gives one more particularly hard grind and leans in for another and much hungrier kiss.
Around him, he can feel Grant's free hand pull away from his grasp, and start to fumble around him on the table. Claude isn't really thinking too much about the why there, not until he can see - even with his eyes closed - a bright flash of red light that no doubt carries Willow away so that her tiny candle child eyes can't watch something that is going to very quickly become an adults only event.
Wise choice. Claude certainly isn't going to stop kissing him, his hips rocking all the harder now that he's not trying to hold back. The hand he still has underneath the shirt rises up again, gets a good handful of Grant's chest. Underneath his palm, he can feel the hard beat of Grant's heart, and the way his soft hair moves along his fingers. "You got condoms, right?" he murmurs, inbetween their kissing. If this were anyone else, Claude wouldn't ask, but it's important to Grant, and so it's important to him, too.
Grant's mouth quirks up in a smile against his own. "I've learned to always have condoms on hand, thanks to you and Dimitri. Although it's not as though I can get them right now, considering a certain little issue."
"I have no idea what you could be implying," Claude teases, and wiggles again just to hear the noise Grant makes. "But give me a moment, and I think I can help you with that condom problem." Of course, he refuses to go as he was when he first stepped into the room. Instead, he relinquishes his grasp on Grant's chest for just a moment in order to slide his hand through Grant's other sleeve. This is a position that puts them in perfect position for another kiss, which Claude takes advantage of because he's no fool, and also their heartbeats thumping against one another.
Unfortunately, this does not serve as the perfect distraction technique, since Grant still pulls away with a laugh. "What are you doing?"
"Stealing your sweater, obviously," Claude says with a wink. It's kind of harder than he anticipated, actually, but he is nothing if not determined. Biting back laughter which rocks throughout his chest, Claude shifts in his seat so that he can stand up properly, and take the sweater with him. Most of it, anyway. It pops up over Grant's head, catching on his short and brilliantly curly ponytail for only a moment. The main issue is Grant's arm, and Claude wiggles his own in the sleeve a bit. "Come on, get that outta there!"
Claude is still wearing his own shirt, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the puff of Grant's laughter sounding off against his stomach. "The room is heated!"
"Clearly it's not heated enough," Claude announces, and cackles as he feels Grant's arm finally start to tug and fall down through the sweater. "There we go... And anyway..." Pulling the rest of the sweater over Grant's head, he steps away, and grins in complete self satisfaction. "I think you look a lot better like this, personally."
A deep flush covers Grant's cheeks at the compliment, as often happens, and, as it does every time, it looks absolutely beautiful on him from where it spreads out underneath his beard or the crookedness of his broken nose. In Claude's opinion, and one he knows Dimitri and Sylvain share, it's a damn shame Grant hasn't been subject to more blush-inducing compliments in his life. He should always look this beautiful.
That's not the only part of him looking good either, as he leans back in his seat to look up at Claude. He fills the chair so beautifully, stomach folding a bit with the curves of his body, legs spreading wide now that Claude's weight isn't pinning them in place. Sliding his hands back through the sleeves and out of sight in the sweater, Claude takes his time enjoying what a picture Grant makes. His gaze follows the trail of curly hair that goes from all across his chest, adores the way it follows the curve of his belly, and lingers right where it disappears down into Grant's pants.
Claude's not exactly making it a secret he's looking. He's not making it a secret he enjoys what he's looking at, either, making sure to swipe his tongue across his lips when he's sure Grant is looking at him. He shifts a bit, tooth in his lip again, but he doesn't shy away at all. Instead, Grant reaches up and back over his head, anchors his hand against the back of his chair. "So... Like what you see?" he asks, shifting to show off more of himself.
It's kind of silly how they get like this with each other, in a way Claude never really thought he would get with anyone: playful and teasing at the same time that they're almost gentle in their sex life, even if Grant is more than happy to pound him into the mattress if Claude asks. Claude adores it, even as he snaps open the buttons on his pants.
"Saying that I like it would be a rather unfair understatement, don't you think?" he says, and his pants drop down to pool around his ankles.
He doesn't regret the gesture, not really. It just turns out that it's a pain in the ass to step out of them when he hasn't actually bothered to take his boots off, too. Which. Whoops. Grant laughs a little bit at him as he stumbles out of his pants, and doesn't seem the least bit apologetic when Claude whines at him about it.
Fine. That's fine. Claude gets his revenge when he's finally completely bare from the waist down, and no small amount of satisfaction goes through him when he sees the way Grant's eye is focused on his legs as he trots over to his boyfriend's backpack. They've done this song and dance before; he knows where to look. Soon enough, he's pulling out a packet with one (1) wonderfully large condom waiting within its plastic, and the small bottle of lube that goes with it.
Still.... While he wants what he wants, there's ways to make that kind of thing all the sweeter. So Claude doesn't take his finds back to Grant right away, oh no.
Instead, he stays right where he is with his legs kept absolutely straight and his wonderful little ass right there in the air as he remains bent over as though he still needs to keep looking. On him, Grant's shirts are practically dresses, falling past his waist and hanging around the tops of his thighs. Yet in certain positions, well, not even they can stay on him perfectly covering everything...
Claude takes full advantage of that as he shifts from one leg to the other, feels Grant's sweater slide along his legs and expose his thighs, his ass, just a hint of his balls - underwear of course discarded along with his pants early on. Grant isn't a particularly noisy lover, but that's fine. It just means it's all the sweeter for him when he finally turns around, and sees the other man lightly palming himself, thick brows drawn together in concentration.
Swanning right on over, Claude leans down enough with the neck of the sweater falling down just enough to no doubt offer up a lovely view of his own chest. "While I'm grateful you helped take a little more work off my hands," he purrs, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Grant's wrist, "I rather like to be hands on with this sort of thing."
Grant lets out a hard breath, deep from in him, but doesn't fight Claude in the slightest. "And I know how hands on you can get," he says, smiling again now that Claude is paying attention to him instead of just playing around.
"Is that a complaint I hear?" Claude asks, exchanging the lube and condom to Grant's hand so that his own are free to tug down his zipper.
"Hey- I didn't say anything like that."
And then Grant isn't really saying much of anything, words lost to the low moan that tumbles out of his mouth as Claude finally frees him from the pressure of his jeans. Without thinking, Claude licks his lips at the thick bulge that presses out, trapped still behind Grant's underwear. He can still remember the first time they laid together, the jump in his heart and his cock when Grant had grumbled that the condoms wouldn't fit. It's one thing to see, another to press his palm down and grind down against that nice hefty weight.
The better part of feeling instead of looking is how Grant shifts his hips up, expectant in the palm of Claude's hand. "So - slow night or fast?" he asks, adjusting his hand so that he can reach to his ponytail and tug away the tie keeping it in place. It doesn't quite fall into a loose cascade around his face; apparently only Felix's hair is capable of that particular and magic aesthetic. Yet Claude stills like the way those curls go to frame his face a little more, how they brush against his neck and under ears that are just a smidge pointed.
Claude admires and adores it, even as he reaches up to sink his hands onto those perfectly soft and gropable pecs. His fingers just sink against them, not lacking for anything to hold onto. Grant fills his hands perfectly, in every way he could mean. The soft curly fuzz that tickles Claude's palms, and the warm skin beneath that is just the right level of soft and dry. With one hand, Claude squeezes, just to enjoy the feeling. With the other, he twists it to the side, flicks his thumb across the pert nipple waiting for him. Grant shifts under his ministrations, soft noises of pleasure leaking out of him. That's not good enough for Claude, not yet. He continues to toy with Grant's chest, knead and pinch and appreciate, until Grant's breath is shaky where it whistles between out of place teeth.
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"We'll probably want to go at least a little fast," he decides eventually. "But I can handle that." With that, he finally slips his fingers underneath the waistband of Grant's boxer-briefs, and pulls.
That nice, thick, long cock could probably get a little harder... with some effort. Claude can still enjoy it in the state it's in, however, bending down just like when he was retrieving the condom to press an open mouthed and sloppy kiss to the tip. There's a little bit of foreskin to handle while he's down there. It would practically be bad manners if he ignored it, wouldn't it? So Claude swallows the tip up, presses his lips down against that loose skin and flicks his tongue beneath the folds until he hears Grant groan.
Pulling away, Claude keeps his mouth open, tongue hanging out lewdly as a thick string of spit drips forth down from it and connects him to Grant's cock - now a good bit harder than it was, and it was already fairly hard. When he sucks in hard, the string snaps. There are only a few things so satisfying as seeing the way Grant's cock twitch at the sensation of it hitting him again, how his hips jerk a little. He grins. "I think your cock is all ready for a condom, Grant."
Grant's breaths are coming out hard, now, lips parted and chest heaving. That doesn't stop his lips from quirking up in an amused grin. "Just - being a generous soul and helping out, are you?" he asks, remembering the condom is in his hand and ripping open the wrapper.
"Oh, absolutely nothing more than that," Claude answers, grinning as he reaches down to drag the hem of the sweater up his stomach. A small jolt of electric pleasure runs through his cock as the tip slides against cloth, and then it's right there between them, a teasing treat to encourage those nice, solid fingers to get the condom on all the faster. He wasn't joking when he said he was thinking of going fast tonight. It's why his free hand goes for that bottle of lube, popping it open with his teeth.
Rough and fast is how Claude's always liked it. That's a good thing, considering they're trying to get one in before Grant's kid has even a chance of getting back to the inn. In hindsight, Claude supposes he should have dragged Grant off to his room, but... Oh well.
This works too, with Grant's fingers quickly smoothing the condom over his cock, and Claude sliding a finger into himself with a shudder.
Once upon a time, Claude might have had to really stretch himself out to get ready for something as big as Grant. But, well... Practice makes perfect. Taking nice thick dick all the time makes his ass ready for it, helped by a more than generous heaping of libido. All Claude really does is slick his hole up, moaning as he palms the base of his own cock. Just a little something to help him get in the mood... Something like that.
What really gets him in the mood, however, is the heat behind Grant's eyes as he watches him, although his hands stay perfectly still - perfectly gentlemanly, even as his fingers rest around his shaft's base with a few idle rubs just to keep it ready to go. It'd be mean, to leave him like that.
...Which of course means that, the second he's turned around with his ass in Grant's face, ready to fuck his own brains out, there's a knock on the inn door.
Grant smooshes his hand against his face, muffling his frustrated groan. Understandable, considering the tip of him is brushing right up against Claude's asshole. Claude manages a little better, although it takes a deep breath through the nose before he can fake it enough to be believable. "Hello, how can we help you?"
Proving that they haven't managed to be entirely forsaken, it's not the voice of some random stranger or housekeeping, but rather their other boyfriend that rings out past wood - and, you know, the in door too. "Oh, hello, Claude! May I come in?"
Something, something, gift Ponytas in the mouth, right? Claude starts to grin, maybe a little too wide. "Sure!" he says, grinding his hips down just a little bit against Grant's arousal, and delights in the soft choking he hears behind him. "Just make sure to close the door behind you."
Poor Dimitri. He has no idea what he's stepping into, glancing behind him into the hallway as he opens the door and walks in. "It's good that the two of you are together, I was going to-" Aaaaand there's his brain crashing, staring as he finally realizes just what he's walked in on. Staring at them - Claude about to reverse cowboy down onto Grant's dick, a sweater three times too big draped over him, and Grant reclined in a chair, shirtless with every thick and soft curve of his body on display, prying his hands from his embarrassed face.
Dimitri slams the door behind him so hard it's a miracle its hinges don't break.
That's something Claude is going to take as a good sign. Grinning, he begins to slooooooowly lower himself down onto Grant's erect cock. "Hey there, Dima," he says, maybe a tad breathlessly. "You're back early, and just you."
"Mm," Dimitri manages, brain clearly fracturing into a million pieces as he watches whatever interesting face Grant is making. Coherent thought starts up again a few seconds later. "I was - wet. Fell in a remoraid tank. Am I -" He struggles for a moment, probably not helped as he watches Grant reaches around, fingers nudging up the hem of his now solidly stolen sweater to grip tight on Claude's thigh. "...Did you all want to get dinner?"
Claude actually has to pause his descent onto Grant's dick so that his sudden wheeze of laughter doesn't make him topple over, and potentially injure both of them. He can actually feel the way Grant lets out a startled laugh, the vibrations traveling up his dick and into Claude a bit.
It's the kind of ridiculously silly question that can only come from a man completely caught off-guard, and Dimitri covers his face in his hand, red faced and grimacing. Grant is quicker than Claude when it comes to this particular draw, reassuring him with, "It's fine, Dimitri. I know this is- a surprise." Which is the lightest term to use in this sort of situation, but probably the best one, too.
"I should have known," is all Dimitri groans. The good news is that his mortification doesn't last long. His hand slides down his face a bit, one brilliantly blue eye peering inbetween his fingers. "...Would the two of you rather I - leave?"
Breath recovered, Claude surveys their boyfriend once more. He takes in the fire behind that one eye, the way Dimitri shifts in place, what he could swear is a slight bulge pressing out from what are indeed a slightly damp pair of pants. Licking his lips, he adjusts his footing, and sinks back a little further. Behind him, Grant's breath catches. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to, Dimitri," Claude says, voice wound a little tight. He spreads his legs, adjusts the sweater until it's parted to show his own wet cock, and the space where Grant's is sliding into him.
"In fact, I think we'd rather like it if you stayed."
His body is probably going to regret this, Claude reflects as Dimitri's eye lights up and Grant's hands grip onto him a little tighter on his thigh and at his waist. He just doesn't think the rest of him will.