[Felix is a fighter, as they both well know. Generally too stubborn for his own good—but Sylvain bites down on that bruise and Felix surrenders, the last bit of tension eking from his body as he stifles a low moan in the crook of Sylvain's neck. He likes to bite, yes, and yet there are times when he doesn't mind being bitten? Another thing he could possibly blame on the Iris moon, even though it's not, mmm, entirely true...
...He's not thinking about it. He allows his mind to go perfectly, blessedly blank, instead, pressing his forehead to Sylvain's shoulder while hands wander over every inch of him. It's overwhelming, in a way that should be annoying; like, he's always hated others doing the simplest of things for him, always hated the thought of anyone thinking he isn't capable, but there's love in the way Sylvain slowly explores his back. Love, and clear lust. His breathing has picked up by the time Sylvain's fingers work their way back down to the base of his spine; he's so very close to panting as he lifts his head, cheeks flushed, pupils blown with clear want despite his half-lidded gaze. Sylvain has done nothing, which means that Sylvain has done so, so much.
But Felix could be dying in the desert and still give Sylvain hell for offering him a sip of water, hence the pointed pause as he tries, tries, to get his breathing back under control.]
Are you? [he murmurs back, pressing a kiss to Sylvain's bottom lip as he mirrors his earlier movement, arching right back into Sylvain's touch. It sends water sloshing awfully close to the lip of the tub, but Felix pays that absolutely no mind.] What do you think?
[One hand is still pressed to the side of Sylvain's neck; he slips it a bit farther up, fingertips resting, feather-light, against the line of Sylvain's jaw as he comes in for another slow, deep kiss.]
[ felix is a fighter in every aspect and sylvain didn't think that would change even in bed. he's rude and snappy sometimes (most of the time), and sylvain has always loved that; there isn't anything he doesn't love about felix, really, if he's being honest. what would normally turn people away, sylvain reaches for: that caustic tone, the stubborn push-pull of always trying to get the upper hand, yet it's less of a competition and more driving home the idea that he isn't going anywhere. felix can push and push and sylvain would still remain, because at the end of the day, he's just as stubborn as felix is. perhaps even more.
and so, despite what felix says, as sylvain openly admires his flushed cheeks and bitten-red lips, pupils blown so wide with desire only a thin ring of amber remains—he eats it up, all that attention directed solely at him, the knowledge that he's the cause of it all sending heat dripping down his spine. his arms and hands track the slow undulation of felix's hips, the arch and dip of his body against his fingers, a silent urge for more. it's a contrast to the soft touch at his jaw, the deeper, hungrier kiss that sylvain melts into, and he presses a little more firmly into his skin, a little more urgent as his fingers find that puckered hole, looser now from how long he'd spent stretching him open earlier. ]
Mm, I'm thinking that maybe you aren't cold at all. [ his voice sounds rougher when he pulls away, leaning down to sink his teeth into the sharp jut of felix's collarbone. just enough to leave a subtle imprint, another bruise for him to find later. ] You're so warm, Fe.
[ and he indulges by rolling his hips up, pressing their groins together. he rubs the pad of his finger against his hole rather than sinking it in like he knows they both want to. and maybe he's just prolonging the inevitable, but felix is good like this, hot and inviting and wanting in all the right ways, and sylvain can't get enough. ]
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moisturizer2020-05-09 05:10 pm
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...He's not thinking about it. He allows his mind to go perfectly, blessedly blank, instead, pressing his forehead to Sylvain's shoulder while hands wander over every inch of him. It's overwhelming, in a way that should be annoying; like, he's always hated others doing the simplest of things for him, always hated the thought of anyone thinking he isn't capable, but there's love in the way Sylvain slowly explores his back. Love, and clear lust. His breathing has picked up by the time Sylvain's fingers work their way back down to the base of his spine; he's so very close to panting as he lifts his head, cheeks flushed, pupils blown with clear want despite his half-lidded gaze. Sylvain has done nothing, which means that Sylvain has done so, so much.
But Felix could be dying in the desert and still give Sylvain hell for offering him a sip of water, hence the pointed pause as he tries, tries, to get his breathing back under control.]
Are you? [he murmurs back, pressing a kiss to Sylvain's bottom lip as he mirrors his earlier movement, arching right back into Sylvain's touch. It sends water sloshing awfully close to the lip of the tub, but Felix pays that absolutely no mind.] What do you think?
[One hand is still pressed to the side of Sylvain's neck; he slips it a bit farther up, fingertips resting, feather-light, against the line of Sylvain's jaw as he comes in for another slow, deep kiss.]
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and so, despite what felix says, as sylvain openly admires his flushed cheeks and bitten-red lips, pupils blown so wide with desire only a thin ring of amber remains—he eats it up, all that attention directed solely at him, the knowledge that he's the cause of it all sending heat dripping down his spine. his arms and hands track the slow undulation of felix's hips, the arch and dip of his body against his fingers, a silent urge for more. it's a contrast to the soft touch at his jaw, the deeper, hungrier kiss that sylvain melts into, and he presses a little more firmly into his skin, a little more urgent as his fingers find that puckered hole, looser now from how long he'd spent stretching him open earlier. ]
Mm, I'm thinking that maybe you aren't cold at all. [ his voice sounds rougher when he pulls away, leaning down to sink his teeth into the sharp jut of felix's collarbone. just enough to leave a subtle imprint, another bruise for him to find later. ] You're so warm, Fe.
[ and he indulges by rolling his hips up, pressing their groins together. he rubs the pad of his finger against his hole rather than sinking it in like he knows they both want to. and maybe he's just prolonging the inevitable, but felix is good like this, hot and inviting and wanting in all the right ways, and sylvain can't get enough. ]