["Just shy of too rough" is precisely how Felix likes most things—but stupidly enough, it's Sylvain's smile that threatens to undo him? The clear affection that shines through. He wants to take Sylvain's face in both hands and study that smile, bask in its warmth—and yet he also wants to bury his too-warm face in the crook of Sylvain's neck, because Sylvain is too bright to look at, sometimes. Staring at him is a little like staring straight at the sun.
But Sylvain looks away first, hurriedly shedding layer after layer, and Felix's eyes roam over every visible inch of him before he finds himself distracted by yet another kiss. Slow and sweet, this time. Miles away from that opening bite, and yet Felix is pleased all the same, rolling his hips forward while ignoring the many, many reasons why they should put this on pause. A servant could come in to clean, or to stoke the fire. A council member could come back to pick up something they left behind, though Felix doubts any of them are truly that stupid. And the simple thought of falling back into their bed—
...Well. It would be nice, to welcome Sylvain back to the space they sometimes share; it will be nice, when they make it there, but Felix hears that short, simple sentence and Felix is gone, gone, gone, eyes closing on a sigh. I missed you. Such an obvious thing, but Felix abandons Sylvain's beard in favor of wrapping his fingers about Sylvain's wrist? Brings Sylvain's hand up, all so that he can press a lingering kiss to the center of that lance-roughened palm. Actions speak louder than words, in Felix's opinion; the meaning of this should be perfectly clear, and yet, after a quiet hum, Felix offers an even quieter:]
I missed you, too. [Which Sylvain should very well know, just like Sylvain should very well know that Felix is usually loath to say what is patently obvious. This is a concession—and it's followed by Felix cracking open his eyes, forcing himself to hold Sylvain's gaze as he brings that thumb back down to brush against his lips.] Welcome back.
[A hint of a smirk, then, before Felix sucks Sylvain's finger into his mouth, swiping his tongue along the pad of it. There's no lounging in bed... but there's this, at least. Felix goading Sylvain into wrecking him on this table.]
[ 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. ]
[A reaction is expected, of course, but the speed with which Sylvain moves catches Felix by surprise? Sends his breath hitching in his throat just before Sylvain's mouth crashes against his own, because oh, that's good—but Sylvain kneeling before him is even better. Intoxicating, really, and Felix watches him, hungrily, through half-lidded eyes, lips parting in a whine as the contrast between the gentleness of that kiss and the roughness of Sylvain's beard against sensitive skin sends the last coherent thoughts racing from his mind. It's been so, so long since he's been touched.
And it's been so, so long since Sylvain has done this, swallowing him in one smooth motion, and Felix's eyes flutter closed. He just needs... a moment. A second. Goddess above.]
Sylvain—
[A breathy, almost wounded noise as Felix digs his heels into Sylvain's upper back, resisting the urge to buck into that warmth, that pressure. It's shameful, the way his thighs tremble with effort—but he ignores it. Focuses on twining the fingers of one hand through that shock of red hair as he slides his other hand behind him, knocking something over in the process. An inkwell, by the sound of it. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this, and so Felix tightens his grip, wordlessly encouraging Sylvain to continue.]
[ felix digs his heels into his back and sylvain shuffles forward on his knees, leaning in and framing felix's hips with his arms, setting his elbows on his thighs to hold him in place. it's been a long time since he'd taken felix in his mouth, an even longer time since he'd heard those breathy noises, louder now as they echo in the quiet of the room. felix's fingers in his hair feels especially good as he lifts his head, slowly pulling off with a wet sound to tilt his head briefly into that touch. ]
Missed you, [ he says again, voice low and raspy, replacing his mouth temporarily with his hand. his fingers drag spit and slick down felix's cock, pressing his thumb gently into the slit as he sighs, as if this was the only thing he's ever wanted. and maybe it is. ] Missed how you taste.
[ he misses those whines too, leaning down again to coax more of them out while he sucks a bruise into felix's inner thigh, rubs his stubble along the soft skin there and just below his cock, soothing the pink marks leftover with his tongue. he's almost painfully hard in his trousers but he doesn't care, going back to felix's cock to take him in again, mouthing gently along the length. he'll take him apart on the table, fill the room with his scent, mark up felix's ass and thighs until he won't be able to sit properly; until every time he passes by this very room, he'll press his thighs together just from the memory of it. ]
[So this is how Felix dies, then: perched atop a table, breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he involuntarily squeezes his thighs around Sylvain's neck. It's uncomfortable, probably. Felix is somewhat aware of this much as his eyes slide open once again, focusing on Sylvain's face as Sylvain speaks, and damn, but if the sound of Sylvain's voice doesn't drag him even closer to the edge. He's been alone for weeks, now, and while there have been desperate nights he's worked fingers into himself and thought of this, of Sylvain taking him apart before painstakingly piecing him back together, nothing compares to the sight of Sylvain on his knees? To the feeling of Sylvain's beard scraping against oh-so sensitive skin, which contrasts so, so nicely with the plush warmth of Sylvain's tongue. It's— he's—
...Listen: Felix has always been stupidly sensitive. Get him in the bedroom—strip away his defenses, layer by stubborn layer—and it's amazing, how little will leave such a proud man a twitching, gasping mess. The key is memorizing what, exactly, draws the most minute reactions from him—and as Sylvain has spent years exploring every inch of Felix's body, it stands to reason that Sylvain knows precisely how much pressure to apply, precisely when a simple flick of his wrist will send a shiver racing up Felix's spine. It's only fair.
Except it isn't fair, not at all, but all that Felix can do is tilt his head back before the quietest of moans escapes him.]
I can't—
[—hold back, he means, because it's been so long, and Sylvain is so good, and Felix is only human, hence the noticeable twitch of his cock. A few more minutes of this and he's done—and he'll be ready to come again in far less time than he normally would, thanks to his impending heat, but it's the principle of the matter? The embarrassment that is coming down Sylvain's throat so soon after being reunited, which sends him yanking at Sylvain's hair even as an all-too familiar heat pools low within him. It feels as though he's pulled taut as a bowstring; he's set to either come with a cry or collapse in on himself, if Sylvain is cruel enough to pull away. It has been... the longest separation, do not at him.]
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moisturizer2020-05-09 05:10 pm
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But Sylvain looks away first, hurriedly shedding layer after layer, and Felix's eyes roam over every visible inch of him before he finds himself distracted by yet another kiss. Slow and sweet, this time. Miles away from that opening bite, and yet Felix is pleased all the same, rolling his hips forward while ignoring the many, many reasons why they should put this on pause. A servant could come in to clean, or to stoke the fire. A council member could come back to pick up something they left behind, though Felix doubts any of them are truly that stupid. And the simple thought of falling back into their bed—
...Well. It would be nice, to welcome Sylvain back to the space they sometimes share; it will be nice, when they make it there, but Felix hears that short, simple sentence and Felix is gone, gone, gone, eyes closing on a sigh. I missed you. Such an obvious thing, but Felix abandons Sylvain's beard in favor of wrapping his fingers about Sylvain's wrist? Brings Sylvain's hand up, all so that he can press a lingering kiss to the center of that lance-roughened palm. Actions speak louder than words, in Felix's opinion; the meaning of this should be perfectly clear, and yet, after a quiet hum, Felix offers an even quieter:]
I missed you, too. [Which Sylvain should very well know, just like Sylvain should very well know that Felix is usually loath to say what is patently obvious. This is a concession—and it's followed by Felix cracking open his eyes, forcing himself to hold Sylvain's gaze as he brings that thumb back down to brush against his lips.] Welcome back.
[A hint of a smirk, then, before Felix sucks Sylvain's finger into his mouth, swiping his tongue along the pad of it. There's no lounging in bed... but there's this, at least. Felix goading Sylvain into wrecking him on this table.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
And it's been so, so long since Sylvain has done this, swallowing him in one smooth motion, and Felix's eyes flutter closed. He just needs... a moment. A second. Goddess above.]
Sylvain—
[A breathy, almost wounded noise as Felix digs his heels into Sylvain's upper back, resisting the urge to buck into that warmth, that pressure. It's shameful, the way his thighs tremble with effort—but he ignores it. Focuses on twining the fingers of one hand through that shock of red hair as he slides his other hand behind him, knocking something over in the process. An inkwell, by the sound of it. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this, and so Felix tightens his grip, wordlessly encouraging Sylvain to continue.]
no subject
Missed you, [ he says again, voice low and raspy, replacing his mouth temporarily with his hand. his fingers drag spit and slick down felix's cock, pressing his thumb gently into the slit as he sighs, as if this was the only thing he's ever wanted. and maybe it is. ] Missed how you taste.
[ he misses those whines too, leaning down again to coax more of them out while he sucks a bruise into felix's inner thigh, rubs his stubble along the soft skin there and just below his cock, soothing the pink marks leftover with his tongue. he's almost painfully hard in his trousers but he doesn't care, going back to felix's cock to take him in again, mouthing gently along the length. he'll take him apart on the table, fill the room with his scent, mark up felix's ass and thighs until he won't be able to sit properly; until every time he passes by this very room, he'll press his thighs together just from the memory of it. ]
no subject
...Listen: Felix has always been stupidly sensitive. Get him in the bedroom—strip away his defenses, layer by stubborn layer—and it's amazing, how little will leave such a proud man a twitching, gasping mess. The key is memorizing what, exactly, draws the most minute reactions from him—and as Sylvain has spent years exploring every inch of Felix's body, it stands to reason that Sylvain knows precisely how much pressure to apply, precisely when a simple flick of his wrist will send a shiver racing up Felix's spine. It's only fair.
Except it isn't fair, not at all, but all that Felix can do is tilt his head back before the quietest of moans escapes him.]
I can't—
[—hold back, he means, because it's been so long, and Sylvain is so good, and Felix is only human, hence the noticeable twitch of his cock. A few more minutes of this and he's done—and he'll be ready to come again in far less time than he normally would, thanks to his impending heat, but it's the principle of the matter? The embarrassment that is coming down Sylvain's throat so soon after being reunited, which sends him yanking at Sylvain's hair even as an all-too familiar heat pools low within him. It feels as though he's pulled taut as a bowstring; he's set to either come with a cry or collapse in on himself, if Sylvain is cruel enough to pull away. It has been... the longest separation, do not at him.]