[ 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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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. ]