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“Don’t look,” he says. It’s almost too gratifying when Sylvain turns his head instantly, only to turn back. A little stitch between his brows and Felix isn’t sure if it’s because he told him to look away, or that he obeyed. Sylvain kneels on the bed before him, his hands clenched in fists, pressed against his thighs.
“What else am I supposed to do?” he asks. He watches far too eagerly. Felix can feel his eyes on his skin. Sylvain’s gaze drifts, from his face, to where Felix has himself in hand. A foot planted on either side of Sylvain, heels pressing into the bed. Leaning against the pillows and the headboard, the back of his head against the wall. He pumps himself slowly, the way he’s been asked. Show me what you like. He didn’t think it would be this unbearable.
Sylvain’s fingertips bite into his palms. “Anything,” Felix says, squeezing his eyes closed, tilting his head forward. Raven locks of hair fall over his face in damnable strands, loose from where they had been pulled haphazardly back. Sylvain shifts forward, palm against the bed, his other hand reaching out for Felix. His palm is clammy warm against Felix’s colder skin, but even that doesn’t detract from the fact that he’s touching him. Oh, they’ve touched before, of course, but that was something done over clothes, or slipped underneath during stolen moments where they had no time.
Here, now, they’ve made the time. Slipped away from all the others and their feasting, a chair propped underneath the door to keep it closed. Take his time with it, he does, as Sylvain slowly drifts touch across his collarbone, across his chest. Over every rib, to his belly. Felix’s breathing stutters as Sylvain curls fingers against the dark line of hair which leads down to his cock. At each shift, each hitched breath, Sylvain flicks his eyes up to look at Felix’s face. He savors every stitch between his brows, every time he clenches his jaw, the way he bites his lip – and most of all, the way his eyelashes flutter open to look at him.
Those beautifully bright amber eyes, looking at him.
“If you’re going to do something, then do it,” Felix scowls, but there’s barely any force behind his words. Gooseflesh has followed the line of Sylvain’s fingers, stopped where his hand came to rest at Felix’s hip. Sylvain shifts forward some, his other hand pressing into the mattress as he leans in to brush his nose against Felix’s. Felix’s hands clench at his side, resting against the bed, far too aware of all the places he could put them.
“Hey,” Sylvain says, “kiss me.”
“What?” Felix leans back as much as he can, as far as the wall will let him, but Sylvain keeps close. “Why are you asking?” He’s used to those moments where Sylvain will plant kisses on him with a smug smile and a bounce in his step, gone before Felix can retaliate. Sylvain is breathless with his boldness, his cheeks coloring, licking his lips.
“You don’t want to?” How easily he can make himself seem so wounded. Eyes wide and pouting, ginger locks curling at the side of his temples. Sylvain shifts forward still, a knee on either side of Felix, and his legs draped over Sylvain’s thighs. His hand claps at the nape of his neck, drags his face in. He barely catches a glimpse of the triumphant smile before he crushes his lips against his. The kiss is rough and forceful, but Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind. Felix lets his hand fall back to his side as he breaks the kiss.
“There, are you satis-” Felix doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. A tongue brushes against his lips, slips inside his mouth with renewed affection. Sylvain tastes of that last bite of bread they had stolen from the kitchens, doused in warm and spiced oil. His eyes are closed, a desperate stitch between his brows as his hands begin to move again. Up and down over Felix’s torso, and then, to his thighs, his legs, back again. He brushes his thumb against the curls around his cock, enough to send a shock through Felix’s spine.
He allows himself to be taken in by the curious tongue, roving hands. Easing from the stiffness against the wall, wrapping his hand around Sylvain’s upper arm. He closes his eyes as well, focuses on the way Sylvain feels. There’s nervousness in it, almost as if he has something he should not. Something stolen, fleeting, to be taken away. What is he so afraid of? Doesn’t he know Felix loved him first? A shiver runs from the flat of Sylvain’s feet all to the last strand of hair upon his head, as Felix wraps a hand around the base of his cock. The kiss falters with it, and Sylvain breaks it only to shudder an inhale.
“Fuck,” he says, his head falling to rest on Felix’s shoulder. With his other hand at his back, between his shoulder blades, Felix rests his head against Sylvain’s as he begins to move his hand up and down. Sylvain’s been unceasingly hard for some time now, his cock already weeping with pre-cum. It twitches at his touch, his thumb against the slit, smearing wet around the head of him. Sylvain adjusts himself slightly, leaning even more against him, and reaches between them. Their hands knock against each other, but Sylvain successfully finds his target.
“Move your hand,” Sylvain tells him in a hoarse whisper, “I want to try something.” He does, his fist instead clenching at the blankets on the bed. Sylvain wraps his hand around both of them, cock pressed against cock, and begins to masturbate them both. “Shit.” Felix swallows hard as Sylvain begins to move his hips, thrusting into his own hand and against Felix’s cock. It’s almost as if he’s – “fucking… Felix.” Spoken on a sigh.
That hand at Sylvain’s back begins to slip, and Felix almost feels guilty at his own curiosity. But another thrust, that unbearable feeling of Sylvain fucking up against him, and his hand goes to his lower back. Lower still, able to feel every muscle as he thrusts, the effort put into his hips, keeping himself steady on his knees. Felix’s own feet press against the bed as Sylvain keeps a steady rhythm, and drags him to the edge.
“Felix,” another sigh that crosses into something more primal, “Felix, Felix, Felix.” He clenches his jaw, closes his eyes, listens to the way Sylvain repeats his name as a mantra. His other arm moves from the mattress to wrap around Felix as best he can, while still keeping enough space to move his hand.
“Kiss me,” Felix says.
“Wha-” He raises his head, eyes opening slowly, hazy and dazed as he looks at Felix with something akin to wonder.
“Don’t you want to?”
“Always,” he murmurs as his gaze flicks between his eyes, his lips. Sylvain moves in, nose briefly pushed against nose, chapped lips against his. Felix wets Sylvain’s lips with his tongue, bites his bottom lip to encourage him closer. Felix opens his mouth to him, meets tongue with tongue. The rhythm of Sylvain’s hips begins to stutter, Felix’s hand on his ass encouraging every single thrust, and Sylvain’s grip begins to unintentionally tighten.
“I can’t,” Sylvain says as he moves to kiss him better.
“Me too,” Felix exhales, his legs squeezing around Sylvain.
“Mmm,” the kiss suddenly killed, his forehead pressed against his, Felix can feel the way his cock pulses as he cums, spilling warm seed against his belly. It doesn’t take long for Felix to follow, his toes curling, eyes squeezing closed.
Sylvain breathes heavy after, shoulders rising and falling with each one. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and he keeps his mouth slightly parted, lips red and raw from attention. “You know I love you, right?” He says, so earnestly. Felix feels his own face grow hot, and looks to the side, away from Sylvain.
“I know,” he says, “I… me too. You. I love you.” The grin spreads wide and quickly across Sylvain’s face, and he inhales before he begins to flutter kisses all over Felix’s face to many weak protests.