"Bon, then you have no bad habits to unlearn," he replies without hesitation, lips curling into an almost smug smile. Truthfully, experience or inexperience do not matter much to Jean-Claude. He has been with all, and both, and everything in between.

Jean-Claude lowers his hand and places it on his chest between the deep opening of his shirt, where that perfect cross-shaped scar stands out. His skin is notably cool to the touch, but there is a faint, sluggish pulse beneath it as he'd fed soon before dinner.

He wants it to be clear that this needn't be one-sided. Jean-Claude doesn't mind directing things, but he doesn't insist that that is the arrangement. With them cooperating and slowly indulging the ardeur, it is more of a steady thrum of insistence than a mind-numbing flood of lust.