Aimé knew his face must be bright red, but he couldn’t help himself. He pressed his hips back against Augustin’s, nodding eagerly. “I rather like the way you think.” He wondered how far Augustin would want to go, if rubbing against each other like this would be enough to state him or if he would want to use mouths and hands, or penetrate him. Did Augustin even like that? Or did he enjoy receiving the same as Aimé did? He had never asked his brother about his preferences, had never wanted to or felt the need too before now. “Augustin, what do you like?” He questioned, touching his brother’s hip. “What did you do before? With the other boy’s you took to bed?”