[ thank the goddess for iris, really, because sylvain can't get enough of openly affectionate felix. it's not that felix isn't on any other day, no; sylvain thinks they've come some ways since the middle of the war, where the years have softened them a little bit by bit, dulled their edges some. it isn't just sylvain kissing him in the mornings now, sometimes he wakes up to felix half-sprawled over him and slowly kissing him awake, soft brushes of his lips that gently tug sylvain back to consciousness. sometimes he wonders if this would feel the same back home, if felix would nose against his cheek like this; if he would allow sylvain to draw him even closer, palms covering the width of his hips. ]
Mm, there's some places. [ he hums at the press of felix's lips against his scales, lets his fingers tease around the base of his tail and fluffing it a little. it's cute, just like felix's ears that he always finds himself idly playing with, brushing through the soft fur, a contrast to his silky hair. ] But they don't matter if you aren't there.
[ sylvain would always follow him, that hasn't changed since they were kids and that won't change now. and if felix is content to stay right here, perched against sylvain on the edge of the tub, then far be it for sylvain to complain about that. not when he can tilt his head up to kiss one of those ears, savoring the feeling of the soft down against his lips. ]
[It's honestly unfair, the things Sylvain does to him? The way Sylvain knows what to touch, what to kiss, what to say, all with such perfect timing that Felix doesn't merely shiver; Felix shudders, a full-body movement that sends him turning his head, shamelessly nuzzling into the crook of Sylvain's neck. Yes, he's sensitive. The light pressure against the base of his tail is all that sends him shifting his hips, chasing something that isn't quite there, but it's hearing Sylvain give voice to what should be obvious that really gets him. The simple affirmation that Sylvain wants to be where he is...]
Sylvain—
[There's so much packed into those two syllables? Love and want and need, all while one of the hands in Sylvain's hair drifts down, blindly cupping the side of his face; the other tugs at Sylvain's hair, not roughly, but just enough to get his attention. Hey. Hi. The world is a hazy, hazy place, and yet Felix forces himself to focus, to press his too-warm face against the column of Sylvain's throat as he murmurs:]
Get in.
[Before we can't, that tone implies, because they're playing a dangerous game here.]
[ he tracks that shudder, feels the way it rolls through felix where they're pressed together and it makes him smile against his ear, a little toothily but just as fond. this is not their first triple moon or even felix's first iris cycle, but sylvain doesn't think he'll ever get tired of all the little reactions he coaxes out of him. felix is so invitingly warm, and sylvain would be content to stay like this, tucked up against each other with felix's warm breath on his skin.
but there's that shift of his hips, a subtle thing that makes sylvain's fingers tighten around him, or maybe it's the way he tugs at his hair. he hums an affirmative, pulls back just enough so he can lean down and catch felix's lips with his, kissing him slow and indulgent as he slides his hands down from felix's hips to his knee. he circles them back up, slipping his palms up the back of his thighs to cup the curve just under his bottom and lifting him as he stands. the water is warm where it laps against his legs, and sylvain breathes something between a sigh and a groan into felix's mouth when he settles in the tub. ]
Good?
[ there's more than enough space to accommodate them, but sylvain rearranges himself so that felix can fit more comfortably in his lap, his hands coming back around to hold him close against his chest. ]
[Sylvain picking him up is usually met with a grumbled protest, at least. Felix threatening to run Sylvain through, blah, blah, blah—but Felix is too lost in this kiss to care, only offering a mildly surprised noise when he's hoisted right off his feet. There is a clear purpose to this move? One that Felix wholeheartedly supports, and let it be known that it's less about getting into the tub and more about continuing this languid kiss. He could lose himself in this.
He nearly does lose himself in this, even as the sensation of sinking into warm water reminds him that he has limbs to adjust. It isn't the first time Felix has been silently—silently—grateful for Sylvain's ridiculous purchase; there's plenty of room on either side of Sylvain's lap for Felix to tuck his legs, and while it would be better, perhaps, to shift about, pressing his back to Sylvain's chest? Again: it's all about this kiss, all about Felix swallowing every breath as both hands come to rest atop Sylvain's shoulders.]
Better, [he agrees, all but murmuring the words against Sylvain's lips as he fully settles in his lap. Lazy.] Warm.
[It's a cold, cold world out there, thanks to the wonders of air conditioning. The parts of Felix not submerged in water are still feeling its effects, but he busies himself with kissing the corner of Sylvain's mouth, then moving down to his jaw, gently grazing his teeth along the line of bone. Hongry.]
[ it's soft, the way felix keeps kissing him, the way he barely moves away from sylvain's mouth even as he moves to straddle him. and sylvain, ever accommodating, shifts to make it easier—resettling his arms around felix's waist, hands skimming down his back beneath the water to wrap around felix's thighs again, tugging him up higher on his lap. felix is a pleasant weight against him, and like always, he finds himself savoring how good it feels to hold him like this, how he fits so perfectly against him and in his arms. maybe it's the chroma, or maybe it's just the consequence of years of repressed feelings that he'd never allowed to surface until now—maybe it's both, he doesn't really know. what he does know is that he's once again glad he insisted on getting this stupidly ornate bathtub, and equally glad that felix is just as willing to stay like this for as long as he is. ]
Yeah? [ he chuckles, tips his head up to give felix more room to mouth along his jaw, fingers squeezing his thigh gently. everything about this place is so indulgent, from the bathtub to the air conditioning; sylvain almost feels guilty, in a way, for taking advantage of it as much as he has. but that's the last thing on his mind at the moment, too busy being distracted by felix's lips and teeth, too busy sliding his hands back up his thighs to cup the curve of his ass. casually copping a feel, nbd. ] I thought you might be.
[ and if his voice dips a little lower, it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the way he spreads his fingers over felix's skin, thumbs slotting into the crease at his groin. ]
Tell me where else you're cold, babe. [ a lingering kiss to his brow. ] I'll warm you right up.
[There's no real reason to rush? It's only, what, the middle of the afternoon; they've certainly earned a rest, and yet there is, as ever, a hunger where Sylvain is concerned. Iris adds an element of necessity to it, sure, but the simple truth of the matter is that Felix always wants Sylvain in some way, shape, or form. Sometimes that want is quieted by Sylvain shooting him a quick, fond grin, letting him know that everything is fine, and other times it's quieted like this: Sylvain's hands slotting into place so, so easily as he tilts his head back, granting Felix easier access to this most vulnerable part of him.
Which Felix, Iris-addled though he may be, takes full advantage of, ducking down a bit farther to suck a fresh bruise to the (mottled) surface of Sylvain's throat. No teeth, this time; just Felix splaying his hand against the opposite side of Sylvain's neck, intent on adding a new color to this collage he's been working on for the past few days. It's art.
And focusing on something prevents him from losing himself entirely. The timbre of Sylvain's voice sent his head spinning, so stupidly, but as he swipes his tongue over this new mark, he's recovered enough of himself to hum before offering the ever-helpful:]
Figure it out yourself.
[A challenge, of course. A weak one, given that they're pressed so close together—and that Felix is half-hard against Sylvain's stomach, a fact made all the more obvious by both the experimental twitch of Felix's hips and the quiet sigh it produces. Hardly ideal, but, like, hardly terrible.]
[ who's the insatiable one now? is what he thinks, what he said the first time they dealt with iris and the triple moons together. and while he doesn't say it, it's there in the curve of his smile, in the way he relaxes further against the side of the tub and lets felix suck another mark among the ones he's already sporting on his throat. felix is a biter and it didn't surprise sylvain in the least when he discovered it, and like, maybe he's into it—a lot into it, if the way he encourages him is any indication. it's more than just the fact that it feels good, but there's something about felix marking him up, staking his claim where everyone can see that drives him a little crazy. for as much as sylvain is possessive of felix, sanguis or no, he's never had that sort of attention directed to himself; the idea that anyone could want him enough, let alone felix, is something that still catches him by surprise, even if it may not be as frequent as it was before.
and he should have expected that answer too, a crooked grin on his face when he looks back down at felix again, lashes fluttering as felix's cock drags across his stomach, the sensation dulled a little by the water. he can't even judge, not when his own twitches just beneath him, pressed against the seam of his ass, and it never ceases to amaze him how felix always makes him go from zero to sixty in no time at all. ]
Hmm, [ sylvain leans in, trailing open mouthed kisses down the side of his neck, more lips than teeth. he pauses at the base of felix's neck, nipping at a dark bruise he'd left near his nape earlier, biting down as if to renew it. ] You feel pretty warm here... maybe somewhere else, then.
[ there's a little dish of soap next to the oils that he reaches for, rubbing between his hands to get a thick lather going before setting his hands on felix's shoulders. there's no rush, despite the heat and the want and everything else just simmering between them, and sylvain likes this too: simply touching felix, running soapy hands over his skin, massaging out the little knots he feels along his back, sliding his fingers down his chest to tweak a nipple. he avoids his cock in favor of returning to his lower back, rubbing firm fingers along his spine just shy of his tail. ]
How am I doing? [ it's murmured against felix's lips, pressing a trail of kisses across to the point of his jaw as his fingers drift lower past the little ball of fluff, dipping into the soft skin between his cheeks. ] Am I close?
[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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Mm, there's some places. [ he hums at the press of felix's lips against his scales, lets his fingers tease around the base of his tail and fluffing it a little. it's cute, just like felix's ears that he always finds himself idly playing with, brushing through the soft fur, a contrast to his silky hair. ] But they don't matter if you aren't there.
[ sylvain would always follow him, that hasn't changed since they were kids and that won't change now. and if felix is content to stay right here, perched against sylvain on the edge of the tub, then far be it for sylvain to complain about that. not when he can tilt his head up to kiss one of those ears, savoring the feeling of the soft down against his lips. ]
no subject
Sylvain—
[There's so much packed into those two syllables? Love and want and need, all while one of the hands in Sylvain's hair drifts down, blindly cupping the side of his face; the other tugs at Sylvain's hair, not roughly, but just enough to get his attention. Hey. Hi. The world is a hazy, hazy place, and yet Felix forces himself to focus, to press his too-warm face against the column of Sylvain's throat as he murmurs:]
Get in.
[Before we can't, that tone implies, because they're playing a dangerous game here.]
no subject
but there's that shift of his hips, a subtle thing that makes sylvain's fingers tighten around him, or maybe it's the way he tugs at his hair. he hums an affirmative, pulls back just enough so he can lean down and catch felix's lips with his, kissing him slow and indulgent as he slides his hands down from felix's hips to his knee. he circles them back up, slipping his palms up the back of his thighs to cup the curve just under his bottom and lifting him as he stands. the water is warm where it laps against his legs, and sylvain breathes something between a sigh and a groan into felix's mouth when he settles in the tub. ]
Good?
[ there's more than enough space to accommodate them, but sylvain rearranges himself so that felix can fit more comfortably in his lap, his hands coming back around to hold him close against his chest. ]
no subject
He nearly does lose himself in this, even as the sensation of sinking into warm water reminds him that he has limbs to adjust. It isn't the first time Felix has been silently—silently—grateful for Sylvain's ridiculous purchase; there's plenty of room on either side of Sylvain's lap for Felix to tuck his legs, and while it would be better, perhaps, to shift about, pressing his back to Sylvain's chest? Again: it's all about this kiss, all about Felix swallowing every breath as both hands come to rest atop Sylvain's shoulders.]
Better, [he agrees, all but murmuring the words against Sylvain's lips as he fully settles in his lap. Lazy.] Warm.
[It's a cold, cold world out there, thanks to the wonders of air conditioning. The parts of Felix not submerged in water are still feeling its effects, but he busies himself with kissing the corner of Sylvain's mouth, then moving down to his jaw, gently grazing his teeth along the line of bone. Hongry.]
no subject
Yeah? [ he chuckles, tips his head up to give felix more room to mouth along his jaw, fingers squeezing his thigh gently. everything about this place is so indulgent, from the bathtub to the air conditioning; sylvain almost feels guilty, in a way, for taking advantage of it as much as he has. but that's the last thing on his mind at the moment, too busy being distracted by felix's lips and teeth, too busy sliding his hands back up his thighs to cup the curve of his ass. casually copping a feel, nbd. ] I thought you might be.
[ and if his voice dips a little lower, it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the way he spreads his fingers over felix's skin, thumbs slotting into the crease at his groin. ]
Tell me where else you're cold, babe. [ a lingering kiss to his brow. ] I'll warm you right up.
no subject
Which Felix, Iris-addled though he may be, takes full advantage of, ducking down a bit farther to suck a fresh bruise to the (mottled) surface of Sylvain's throat. No teeth, this time; just Felix splaying his hand against the opposite side of Sylvain's neck, intent on adding a new color to this collage he's been working on for the past few days. It's art.
And focusing on something prevents him from losing himself entirely. The timbre of Sylvain's voice sent his head spinning, so stupidly, but as he swipes his tongue over this new mark, he's recovered enough of himself to hum before offering the ever-helpful:]
Figure it out yourself.
[A challenge, of course. A weak one, given that they're pressed so close together—and that Felix is half-hard against Sylvain's stomach, a fact made all the more obvious by both the experimental twitch of Felix's hips and the quiet sigh it produces. Hardly ideal, but, like, hardly terrible.]
no subject
and he should have expected that answer too, a crooked grin on his face when he looks back down at felix again, lashes fluttering as felix's cock drags across his stomach, the sensation dulled a little by the water. he can't even judge, not when his own twitches just beneath him, pressed against the seam of his ass, and it never ceases to amaze him how felix always makes him go from zero to sixty in no time at all. ]
Hmm, [ sylvain leans in, trailing open mouthed kisses down the side of his neck, more lips than teeth. he pauses at the base of felix's neck, nipping at a dark bruise he'd left near his nape earlier, biting down as if to renew it. ] You feel pretty warm here... maybe somewhere else, then.
[ there's a little dish of soap next to the oils that he reaches for, rubbing between his hands to get a thick lather going before setting his hands on felix's shoulders. there's no rush, despite the heat and the want and everything else just simmering between them, and sylvain likes this too: simply touching felix, running soapy hands over his skin, massaging out the little knots he feels along his back, sliding his fingers down his chest to tweak a nipple. he avoids his cock in favor of returning to his lower back, rubbing firm fingers along his spine just shy of his tail. ]
How am I doing? [ it's murmured against felix's lips, pressing a trail of kisses across to the point of his jaw as his fingers drift lower past the little ball of fluff, dipping into the soft skin between his cheeks. ] Am I close?
no subject
...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.]
no subject
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. ]