The goddess had to nerf him somehow, or he'd be too too powerful for this mortal realm? Duh. But he's glad to have the affection returned, because as distracting as it is--or could be, yet--it somehow makes all of this... easier to process, maybe? Not easier to accept, because for all he may doubt himself, Sylvain hasn't doubted Felix a day in his life. Like, he knows Felix loves him! He believes that Felix loves him. It's just...
Well! Sometimes it's just hard to believe that someone like him could ever deserve anything as perfect as this.
"Most of the time," he repeats, musing aloud as he tightens his hold around Felix just slightly. He loves him because he wants to love him... which makes sense? And he already knows this, really--like, all jokes aside, his self-depreciation isn't so bad that he would ever think Felix has to force himself to stay with him.
But at the same time... there's a certain impact that comes with hearing it said so plainly? To be told, in no uncertain terms, that loving him can be easy. It tugs at all those old scars on his heart in a way that drags one soft, unsteady breath from him; he lets one hand slip down to the one at his chest, fingers folded tightly over it for a moment before sliding to fit between Felix's, curling over the back of his hand as if to keep it there.
"...Keep going?"
Is he going to regret asking for this? Probably yes... but also no, of course he won't.
[Sleeping on top of someone is, ah, less than comfortable, and yet? And yet. Felix closes his eyes as Sylvain speaks, feeling the rumble of it as he takes a deep, shameless breath. Sylvain smells... like soap, mainly, but beneath that mild spice—because floral-y soaps are banned in the Fraldarius household—there's a scent that's so unmistakably him that Felix finds it relaxing. Comforting. It makes it difficult to continue feeling annoyed; like, he could doze off just like this, loose-limbed and languid, and happily deal with the crick in his neck come the morning...
But no, no. Sylvain asks him to continue and Felix hums his assent, taking one last breath before pressing one last kiss to Sylvain's throat. Such a small thing to ask of him, really—and he will continue his trek downward soon, but for now, as his hand is trapped in a perfectly acceptable manner:]
You're needy.
[This is the weakest shit, given the lack of any heat whatsoever. When it comes right down to it, Felix likes that Sylvain is so, mmm, demanding of his attention? There are times when it's annoying, but more often than not, Sylvain reaching for him gives him an excuse to do exactly what he wanted to do in the first place, so. Onward.]
And reliable. Trustworthy, but you know that. [Hmm! He lifts his chin the slightest bit, sliding his tongue over the apple of Sylvain's throat in an attempt to buy some time. He's exhausted many of the more practical qualities; now he's getting in the mushier stuff, so.] ...Kind. Generous.
[With his time and his praise and his affection, which is a thought that prompts another lazy roll of Felix's hips.]
Needy!! Alright, that one startles a short, real laugh from him, because like--here he is, just trying to Get By and brace himself for whatever too-kind thing Felix could possibly say about him that he would never say about himself, and then the first thing thrown his way is needy! Goddess help him for loving this man.
But then he continues, and Sylvain... follows along, yes, but also traces patterns on the ceiling to try and quiet those thoughts that remind him that these are words better suited to Felix, than himself. It may even be for the best, then, that the feeling of those lips and tongue against his skin make it increasingly difficult to think of anything but Felix's voice, and that roll of hips that earns a quiet sigh of Felix's name, even as it turns the low, lazy warmth winding through him into a slowly rising heat that has his nails pressing faint crescents into his shoulder.
And Felix calls him generous, but it's a purely selfish desire that he can feel bubbling within him that squeezes his eyes closed and urges his hands back to Felix's hips; it makes him want as much as he wants to hear more, even if the compliments almost feel like they could break his chest open altogether, until every ounce of poison he's held there for so, so long spills out of him, replaced wholly by the love poured into every unbelievable word.
He swallows, takes a breath--but finds that he doesn't actually trust himself to speak just yet. He isn't sure what he would say... so he'll just try to keep focusing on Felix's voice, for the time being? That sounds like the safest bet.
[A silent Sylvain is a very, very rare thing? If Felix wasn't pressed against his throat, he might risk sitting up once more, just to ensure that everything is fine—but he can feel Sylvain swallow, breathe, and he generously decides to spare Sylvain the mortifying ordeal of being known at this particular moment. Everything he's saying is an indisputable fact, but he knows how he would handle this sort of treatment, were their situations reversed...
...And this isn't about making Sylvain feel anything other than loved, because surprise, surprise: Felix can be considerate when he wants to be. Felix can also be generous, although his generosity takes the form of grinding against Sylvain, figuring out a steady sort of rhythm as he leisurely kisses his way back down to Sylvain's collarbones. It's all about making Sylvain think that he remain like this for the foreseeable future, even as his breath quickens—and occasionally hitches when he drags along Sylvain just so. It's a dangerous game. He's playing with fire here, and he's well aware of it.]
Mm— [What should sound thoughtful sounds lewd, and yet he can't even bring himself to care.] You care for those around you. Too much, sometimes. Reckless.
[In the past more so than the present, he supposes, but it still holds true. An idiot! His idiot, which is a warm thought as he begins kissing a trail down the center of Sylvain's chest. He'll have to slip farther down, soon. Give up the perfect angle he's finally managed to find, but for now, as he rolls his hips a tad faster:]
You're patient, aren't you?
[What does he hope to hear more: Sylvain agreeing, or Sylvain telling him that is patently untrue right here, right now? Both have their merits.]
A silent Sylvain is about as rare as a talkative Felix, really, but it's also shorter-lived by far--like, it's no secret how easily the things Felix does can affect him! So he doesn't bother hiding the way his breathing turns uneven, or the way it breaks on sharp inhales and quiet gasps as Felix moves against him, over him. He still hangs onto his every word--still struggles to hold them all, really, but finds himself... a bit more willing to accept them if it means a chance at understanding even a fragment of what Felix sees in him.
And... he doesn't expect anything more, really?? Like, they could honestly stay just like this, and that would be, y'know, fine. It's not like they can get too, ah, involved, without needing more than just a quick once-over by way of clean-up. And besides: the combination of The Shirt and The Verbal Affection on top of everything else means Felix can, quite literally, get away with anything right now. Even when Sylvain can't help but tighten his hold on him, greedily seeking more friction, he's careful to work with the rhythm Felix sets, rather than disrupt it. And that works out pretty well for him!
Until then that rhythm changes, and Felix tells him-- or rather, Felix asks him, this time, if he's patient... and you know? He really thought he was? Or at least he thought he could be for the sake of seeing this through; now, as he watches Felix make his way lower and finds he has to bite his lip before he can answer... hmm. He would have to say he's decidedly less sure, on that front.
"Not--" His breath catches when Felix shifts a particular way, so! Attempt two, after a shaky laugh: "Not if you keep this up... Want you again already," he admits, as if the statement hasn't been true since the moment Felix put his shirt on back in the office, and also as if they haven't just gone through all the trouble of getting ready for bed--but listen? At least he's being honest.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
This one's Sylvain accepting it, bc I need to make more soft icons dammit
Well! Sometimes it's just hard to believe that someone like him could ever deserve anything as perfect as this.
"Most of the time," he repeats, musing aloud as he tightens his hold around Felix just slightly. He loves him because he wants to love him... which makes sense? And he already knows this, really--like, all jokes aside, his self-depreciation isn't so bad that he would ever think Felix has to force himself to stay with him.
But at the same time... there's a certain impact that comes with hearing it said so plainly? To be told, in no uncertain terms, that loving him can be easy. It tugs at all those old scars on his heart in a way that drags one soft, unsteady breath from him; he lets one hand slip down to the one at his chest, fingers folded tightly over it for a moment before sliding to fit between Felix's, curling over the back of his hand as if to keep it there.
"...Keep going?"
Is he going to regret asking for this? Probably yes... but also no, of course he won't.
you have two whole days off!!!
But no, no. Sylvain asks him to continue and Felix hums his assent, taking one last breath before pressing one last kiss to Sylvain's throat. Such a small thing to ask of him, really—and he will continue his trek downward soon, but for now, as his hand is trapped in a perfectly acceptable manner:]
You're needy.
[This is the weakest shit, given the lack of any heat whatsoever. When it comes right down to it, Felix likes that Sylvain is so, mmm, demanding of his attention? There are times when it's annoying, but more often than not, Sylvain reaching for him gives him an excuse to do exactly what he wanted to do in the first place, so. Onward.]
And reliable. Trustworthy, but you know that. [Hmm! He lifts his chin the slightest bit, sliding his tongue over the apple of Sylvain's throat in an attempt to buy some time. He's exhausted many of the more practical qualities; now he's getting in the mushier stuff, so.] ...Kind. Generous.
[With his time and his praise and his affection, which is a thought that prompts another lazy roll of Felix's hips.]
I have time to make so many icons... whoa
But then he continues, and Sylvain... follows along, yes, but also traces patterns on the ceiling to try and quiet those thoughts that remind him that these are words better suited to Felix, than himself. It may even be for the best, then, that the feeling of those lips and tongue against his skin make it increasingly difficult to think of anything but Felix's voice, and that roll of hips that earns a quiet sigh of Felix's name, even as it turns the low, lazy warmth winding through him into a slowly rising heat that has his nails pressing faint crescents into his shoulder.
And Felix calls him generous, but it's a purely selfish desire that he can feel bubbling within him that squeezes his eyes closed and urges his hands back to Felix's hips; it makes him want as much as he wants to hear more, even if the compliments almost feel like they could break his chest open altogether, until every ounce of poison he's held there for so, so long spills out of him, replaced wholly by the love poured into every unbelievable word.
He swallows, takes a breath--but finds that he doesn't actually trust himself to speak just yet. He isn't sure what he would say... so he'll just try to keep focusing on Felix's voice, for the time being? That sounds like the safest bet.
will you make them, though... will you...
...And this isn't about making Sylvain feel anything other than loved, because surprise, surprise: Felix can be considerate when he wants to be. Felix can also be generous, although his generosity takes the form of grinding against Sylvain, figuring out a steady sort of rhythm as he leisurely kisses his way back down to Sylvain's collarbones. It's all about making Sylvain think that he remain like this for the foreseeable future, even as his breath quickens—and occasionally hitches when he drags along Sylvain just so. It's a dangerous game. He's playing with fire here, and he's well aware of it.]
Mm— [What should sound thoughtful sounds lewd, and yet he can't even bring himself to care.] You care for those around you. Too much, sometimes. Reckless.
[In the past more so than the present, he supposes, but it still holds true. An idiot! His idiot, which is a warm thought as he begins kissing a trail down the center of Sylvain's chest. He'll have to slip farther down, soon. Give up the perfect angle he's finally managed to find, but for now, as he rolls his hips a tad faster:]
You're patient, aren't you?
[What does he hope to hear more: Sylvain agreeing, or Sylvain telling him that is patently untrue right here, right now? Both have their merits.]
no subject
And... he doesn't expect anything more, really?? Like, they could honestly stay just like this, and that would be, y'know, fine. It's not like they can get too, ah, involved, without needing more than just a quick once-over by way of clean-up. And besides: the combination of The Shirt and The Verbal Affection on top of everything else means Felix can, quite literally, get away with anything right now. Even when Sylvain can't help but tighten his hold on him, greedily seeking more friction, he's careful to work with the rhythm Felix sets, rather than disrupt it. And that works out pretty well for him!
Until then that rhythm changes, and Felix tells him-- or rather, Felix asks him, this time, if he's patient... and you know? He really thought he was? Or at least he thought he could be for the sake of seeing this through; now, as he watches Felix make his way lower and finds he has to bite his lip before he can answer... hmm. He would have to say he's decidedly less sure, on that front.
"Not--" His breath catches when Felix shifts a particular way, so! Attempt two, after a shaky laugh: "Not if you keep this up... Want you again already," he admits, as if the statement hasn't been true since the moment Felix put his shirt on back in the office, and also as if they haven't just gone through all the trouble of getting ready for bed--but listen? At least he's being honest.