[ it will be nice when they make it there, if sylvain can keep his hands away from felix long enough for them to reach their rooms. but why wait when they have some measure of privacy now? there's no one here except for him and felix, and sure, they run the risk of getting caught at any moment, but isn't that part of the thrill? it's like he's nineteen again and back at the monastery, sneaking around with his girl of the week, taking advantage of all the little nooks and crannies of the grounds that he'd discovered over time. but this is not the monastery and felix isn't some girl he'd bedded and then forgot about, someone he'd allowed himself to feel a small measure of happiness with before he'd ended up punishing them both for it. it feels like a lifetime ago, feels like from another life entirely, as felix rolls his hips forward, and his hand that had slid back down to felix's flank tracks the slow undulation.
but more importantly, sylvain doesn't expect him to say it back. the kiss to his palm is achingly sweet, and they both know how felix has always preferred action over words. but it's even sweeter when he says it anyway, quiet and soft, like the way he'd said i'll miss you the night before sylvain was to depart. it's what kept sylvain warm on those cold and lonely nights, dreaming of felix and his midnight hair and amber eyes; this memory too, will be kept along with the rest: felix catching his gaze, the brief slant of his smirk before he parts those kiss bruised lips, drawing his thumb into his mouth, the velvet caress of his tongue making sylvain suck in a sharp breath as he carefully presses down against it.
so it works. sylvain's mouth goes dry and his mind turns blissfully blank, and suddenly, it doesn't matter that they're still in the war room with felix perched on the large table. nothing matters except that felix is wearing too many clothes and sylvain needs to taste him. he pulls his thumb away, replacing it with his tongue as his fingers curl into the waistband of felix's trousers, tugging him forward and all the way to the edge of the table by it before unlacing the ties. he sinks down to his knees, pulls felix's legs over his shoulders as he finds his cock, nuzzling the base of it and scratching up his inner thighs with his beard in the process as he kisses the soft crease where hip meets groin. and when he finally gets his mouth on him, he closes his eyes, taking him all the way down until felix nudges at the back of his throat. ]
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but more importantly, sylvain doesn't expect him to say it back. the kiss to his palm is achingly sweet, and they both know how felix has always preferred action over words. but it's even sweeter when he says it anyway, quiet and soft, like the way he'd said i'll miss you the night before sylvain was to depart. it's what kept sylvain warm on those cold and lonely nights, dreaming of felix and his midnight hair and amber eyes; this memory too, will be kept along with the rest: felix catching his gaze, the brief slant of his smirk before he parts those kiss bruised lips, drawing his thumb into his mouth, the velvet caress of his tongue making sylvain suck in a sharp breath as he carefully presses down against it.
so it works. sylvain's mouth goes dry and his mind turns blissfully blank, and suddenly, it doesn't matter that they're still in the war room with felix perched on the large table. nothing matters except that felix is wearing too many clothes and sylvain needs to taste him. he pulls his thumb away, replacing it with his tongue as his fingers curl into the waistband of felix's trousers, tugging him forward and all the way to the edge of the table by it before unlacing the ties. he sinks down to his knees, pulls felix's legs over his shoulders as he finds his cock, nuzzling the base of it and scratching up his inner thighs with his beard in the process as he kisses the soft crease where hip meets groin. and when he finally gets his mouth on him, he closes his eyes, taking him all the way down until felix nudges at the back of his throat. ]