The back of his neck has always been sensitive, it's part of the reason why he had an undercut when he was younger. Claude's fingers skimming over it would have been enough to make him gasp and shiver but now, so close to the angry lines of a blooming flower, his hands twist into Claude's shirt and he collapses against him with a sharp little sound caught between satisfaction and something almost pained.

It takes another moment for him to regain what composure he has left, overwhelmed beginning to edge dangerously close to a fearful sort of panic. He's worked too hard to pull his body under his control from the wheezing miserable thing he was as a boy for all of this not to be a little bit terrifying. Should or shouldn't aside.

Lorenz reaches out to grasp at Claude's wrists, pulling his hands back around to the space between them. "E-enough." Though Claude might be pleased to hear just how ragged Lorenz' voice has become. "I love you but-just let me breathe."

It feels increasingly difficult to do with Claude's hands on him.