[Sylvain is lucky that stall door is still between them when he decides to tease Felix, because Goddess knows Felix feels the sudden urge to stomp on Sylvain's foot. Something for Felix to focus on other than the hand he promptly places on his hip, which—oh, it's stupid. It is, and yet, as Felix watches Sylvain bid farewell to the horse, Felix is very much aware of the precise place Sylvain pressed his last kiss. It's as though he's been branded? Marked in some invisible way, and he wonders, dimly, if he'll feel Sylvain's lips just above his pulse point for the remainder of the day.
...He'll go mad. Or maybe he's already gone mad, because Sylvain steps out from the stall and Felix's eyes drift to his shoulders, watching muscles bunch as Sylvain raises his arms. They've spent years alongside one another; Felix has seen Sylvain in every state imaginable, and yet Felix kisses Sylvain three (3) times and it's as if he's never seen Sylvain before in his life. Ridiculous. Obviously this is Sylvain's fault; obviously he must pay, if Felix can manage to pull himself together. Two naps! Felix manages an incredulous snort, at least, but let it be known that he briefly imagines curling up together once more, Sylvain's arm a comfortable weight draped over his—
—no? No. Felix shoves the thought from his mind, because the things Sylvain is doing to him? Unbelievable. He's keeping a list of offenses that Sylvain will answer for.]
As lazy as ever. Some of us have training to attend to. [Chores to complete, mages to accidentally annoy in the greenhouse. You know! The usual, hence Felix's pause as he manages to tear his eyes from Sylvain's shoulders long enough to give the man a brief, artfully uninterested once-over.] Next you'll say you expect dinner to be carried to you.
[Felix would do it, just as an excuse to slip into Sylvain's room at a later point. Felix is, in fact, offering to do it, in his roundabout way—but Sylvain should prepare himself for copious amounts of Rudeness.]
Look, I did some chores today. Considering how I felt when I woke up, I'm going to count that as an overwhelming success.
[ though, sure, he was excellent at weaseling out of things he didn't particularly enjoy. looking after his mount was one of the few chores sylvain looked forward to, but when it came to maintaining the monastery grounds or guard duty, the enthusiasm was much more difficult to find. plus, sylvain's almost certain that some of the other blue lions were feeling equally as trash as he was today - perhaps they hadn't drunk as much as he'd ended up having, but they were also much smaller. well, most of them.
and then felix makes the classic mistake of giving him an inch, a grin spreading across sylvain's face as he feels felix's eyes wander over him. that in itself sends an electric feeling down his spine, because despite this being a fairly common occurrence among the adoring public, it had never felt so real and welcome as it does now, those ruby eyes raking down his body.
perhaps he should forgo the nap, and go straight to the cold bath. ]
Oh? Are you offering me room service?
[ voice dripping with mischief and more than a little hint of innuendo - sylvain can't help himself, because cornering felix is too fun - sylvain takes a half-step closer to the other, long arms snaking around felix's hips and linking up at the small of his back. ]
[It's a brief look, meant to tell Sylvain that he's been judged and come up wanting? Or, well. That was its original purpose, before Felix's gaze lingered just a bit longer than it necessarily should—and that isn't his fault. It isn't. Yet another thing to add to the ever-growing list of Sylvain's Offenses, right above Sylvain slipping arms about his waist with practiced ease. As though he has the right...
Or: They're very close now, and Felix is all too aware of it as he tilts his head back, fixing Sylvain with the sharpest look he can muster. He wants to be annoyed, given that Sylvain breezed into his bubble with absolutely no concern whatsoever; he is annoyed, to a degree, and yet it pales in comparison to the realization that Sylvain's hands fit surprisingly well where they are.]
I didn't offer.
[He did. They both know that he did, just like they both know there's no reason for Felix to bring a hand to Sylvain's chest, grabbing onto his shirt much like he did the night before. So much of this is like the night before, actually. The closeness. The warmth. Sylvain pushing Felix's buttons.]
I'll bring you a dish you hate, [is the best threat he can think of—and what's sad is that this dumb attempt actually requires brainpower? A good deal of it. He's so focused on being contrary in this moment that he pays no mind to the fact that he is attempting to tug Sylvain down to him.] Fish skewers. Something disgusting.
You could bring me a bowl of dog food, but you'd still be bringing you with it. I win either way.
[ one scenario sure ends in more hunger than the other, but felix is the draw, not the food. sylvain had long given up actually experiencing any 'honeymoon' period in a relationship - none of them had been real, all of it for show and cheap thrills. so experiencing one now was quite disconcerting for him, being so acutely aware of felix's presence, of his own desire to spend as much time as possible with someone he'd already spent more time with than anyone else in his life. the emotion tasted strange in his mouth and was plainly overwhelming to someone who'd always run as fast as he could from genuine affection - but sylvain wants to get used to this.
he could get used to the way felix scowls back at him, pretending to be thoroughly done with his cheap shots; the way his long fingers instinctively sought out his shirt; the faint blush that creeps into felix's cheeks when sylvain tests their new boundaries. he looks forward to getting used to it, because - well, this is better than he'd felt in some considerable time. ]
So, when will you drop by? Four, five in the evening? I'm easy.
[ a rueful grin is shot felix's way before sylvain tightens his linked arms just a fraction, pulling the other a maddening inch closer to him. their faces are so close, sylvain can feel felix's breath heat his lips, doing absolutely nothing to quell the racing of his heart.
what a scene someone could walk into right now, if either of them were thinking of that. whew. ]
[Oh, that line is cheesy. It absolutely is, and yet it still manages to strike right at Felix's core, a sort of, mmm, tiny arrow pinging right off his heart. It's nice, the notion that he's wanted—especially given that Felix knows Sylvain well enough to recognize the undercurrent of honesty, to recognize that Sylvain does, in fact, want him. That in and of itself isn't new, really; Sylvain has always been the one person who's consistently seen Felix as Felix, simply Felix, and yet, given new light...
...Hmm. Felix rolls his eyes, sure, but Felix still cants his head, his own heart pounding in his chest as his eyes drop to Sylvain's grin. Terrible. Felix very much wants to go back to Sylvain's room right now, and not to—well, he wouldn't be opposed, but it's more about spending time with Sylvain in a nice, quiet place? Talking and teasing and figuring out how close is too close, if that's even a possibility. It isn't like Felix knows. He's let so few people touch him, over the years; maybe Sylvain's touch will become overwhelming at some point, but for now Felix thinks of Sylvain's lips, raising himself just high enough to murmur against them.]
Far later than five. I'm not going to rush through anything for—
[—your sake, obviously, but that sure is a loud bang behind him? The sound of someone dropping something onto the ground, and as Felix whips his head about—probably whacking Sylvain in the face with his stupid ponytail, so sorry—that sure is Ingrid he spies, standing above a bucket that's presumably full of something. He can't quite make out her expression? It's, like, half-disapproving, half-something else entirely, and yet, before he can even think to snap at her, she turns away with a shake of her head. Was that a muttered fragment of a sentence... something, something, about time, perhaps...
...Mysterious. Truly. Plenty for Felix to puzzle over as he stands there, hold on Sylvain's shirt tightening as he watches her walk away. He needs a second to reboot.]
[ felix might be a private person about his relationships, but sylvain is decidedly not - so when ingrid wanders into the stables and catches them in each other's arms, felix's lips brushing against his, he's decidedly less surprised about it. in fact, once she takes her leave again, muttering some undoubtedly mothering quip, sylvain turns back towards felix and after catching a glimpse of his expression, the redhead just... laughs.
he doesn't relinquish his hold on felix, but the entire situation is just so comedic that sylvain can't help himself, letting out a hearty, amused laugh that he just can't keep contained even though he knows he's probably going to end up with a sword inserted into him for doing so. so, ingrid knows. who cares? given her uncanny ability to know what him, felix or dimitri were thinking before they were even thinking it themselves, sylvain doubts that it's come at any surprise to her.
okay. done laughing. idly, he notices felix has yet to respond, his fingers so tightly bunched in his shirt that his knuckles were almost going white - no doubt a stressful situation for him, but an extremely amusing one for sylvain. peering into felix's face, the redhead grins knowingly; ]
Hey. You doing alright?
[ and something tells him he should probably be a bit more diplomatic, considering how hilarious he's found this. ]
Look, it's Ingrid. She probably knew before we did.
[Sylvain deserves a kick to the shin for that laugh, but Felix can't quite manage it? Felix can't quite manage it even when Sylvain settles down, because it's—the fact that Ingrid saw them isn't what matters, really. It could have been Annette, for all Felix cares. Ashe! Even Dimitri. They're all the same, in the end, because what matters is that... sense of control that's been stripped away. Felix isn't ashamed of, or embarrassed about, anything he chooses to do; on some base level, he just prefers to decide how and when it's presented to the world.
But now it's out there. So what? It's not like it changes anything Felix feels, or Felix wants; it's not like there was anything to be done about it then, and it's not like there's anything to do about it now, but Felix still feels... disgruntled. Mildly. He's never liked surprises, after all, and it all goes back to that need to be in control.]
Stop trying to... comfort me, [he all but spits out, albeit with more force than actual heat.] I don't need it.
[He's very cool, thanks. Very tough. It's why he smoothly twists free of Sylvain's grasp, shooting him a Look even as he immediately misses his warmth, immediately mourns the kiss-that-wasn't. That, at least, is fixable; it would be the simplest thing in the world to pull Sylvain down for their fourth full kiss, but Felix's stubborn pride gets in the way? Sends him brushing right past Sylvain, instead—and that companionable bump of their arms should let Sylvain know he isn't in too much trouble. Felix is just back to being prickly! A shocked hedgehog curling into a little ball once more.]
You can answer her questions. Perhaps I'll even tell her to bring your dinner.
[He won't. Ingrid would probably tell him that she is not getting involved in a lovers' quarrel or something equally as ridiculous, so—farewell for now, Sylvain! Felix is off to do Felix-y things for the remainder of the afternoon, most of which involve him smacking things with his sword. It's quite therapeutic; it definitely puts him in a better mood by the time he shows up to Sylvain's door just a tad after five, a covered bowl of spicy fish and turnip stew in hand—and a few still-warm sweet buns tucked into his pocket, neatly wrapped in a napkin by Mercedes' capable hands. The things Felix does for Sylvain...
...Anyway, he's here, and you bet he's going to kick at the door for a moment before actually opening it (with or without an invitation). Hi, hello, delivery...]
[ for a few minutes after felix had left the stables in a fluster, sylvain felt bad - an entirely new feeling for his fledgling sense of empathy. while he wasn't particularly concerned about ingrid's interruption, sylvain is acutely aware his personality was a very different beast to felix's; always had been. ever since they were kids, sylvain was the one to gloat and flaunt things, while felix had been reserved and thoughtful, and honestly? not much had changed over those two decades. so, for the first time in his romantic life, the redhead kicks around the stables for a bit longer wondering what to do, mostly muttering to his horse, caligo, as if he'd somehow be able to respond with sound and reasonable advice, and keeping busy with other menial chores he didn't really have to do because procrastination is always the right choice. spoiler; it wasn't.
eventually sylvain just gives up, the pounding headache and overly eventful morning far too much for such a simple creature. if there's one thing he could make good on for the day, it was his promise of having at the very minimum one nap - so after washing up from the stables, he ends up right back in his dormitory room, face-first collapsing into the bed. who knew that genuine caring could be so exhausting, and why did no-one ever see fit to warn him? these and other assorted thoughts courtesy of sylvain falling into a deep hangover-fueled sleep.
somewhat later, he's not so much startled out of his slumber (sylvain's always been a disgustingly heavy sleeper) as slightly disturbed, the thumping against his door and the rattling of the wood in the frame as someone - is someone kicking it?? - causing him to roll over on to his side and let out a loud groan.
it's quite a sight, actually, the future of house gautier draped messily over his bed in a way that should be questionable in terms of comfort, shirt undone except for three, four? buttons, and hair even more chaotic than it usually was.
when the door kicking ends up in door opening, the hinges screeching do a little something to wake him up a little further, brown eyes cracking open slightly to see felix... upside down. it takes a few moments for the hamster wheel to start turning again before sylvain fully comes back to earth, a sleepy but still frustratingly coy grin tugging at his lips as he realises the situation. ]
Hello, beautiful.
[ barely awake sylvain seems to have even less of a filter than alert sylvain, unfortunately. stifling a yawn, his eyes dart to the window and realises it's dark now - a bonus, arguably, that he'd managed to sleep the rest of the day away and expedite seeing felix again. hold on-- ]
[Felix is well and truly over the... earlier awkwardness. He's been over it, actually, because that's the beauty of growing older: he's become even better at channeling his, ah, frustrations into more productive avenues, to let some of his inherent pissiness go. Academy-era Felix would have undoubtedly spent all afternoon at the training grounds; this Felix, however, only spent two or so hours there before wandering away to see to other tasks. Progress.
So he's thinking of nothing in particular as he steps into Sylvain's room, and maybe that's his greatest mistake to date. Thinking of nothing means that there's nothing to distract him from the sight of Sylvain sprawled atop his bed, messy in the best possible ways. And Felix knows, in this moment, that this is Sylvain's, like, Goddess-granted gift? Felix waking up from a nap is a mess of tangled hair, shirt sticking to him in the most uncomfortable manner, but Sylvain looks... unfairly good. Annoyingly good. The training grounds call to Felix once more.
But Felix manages, somehow, to tear his eyes away from Sylvain, kicking the door closed behind him after Sylvain offers him that ridiculous greeting. Beautiful. Sylvain, Felix decides, is a much better kisser than he is a conversationalist, and that has nothing at all to do with the way Sylvain's words affect him. So stupid.]
Dog food? [His best attempt at a cool, calm tone as he walks across the room to Sylvain's desk. Hmm.] Perhaps.
[Jokes! Throwing Sylvain's earlier words right back in his face! Except that it's Dedue's cooking in the bowl Felix sets atop a neat stack of books, of course, so it's a meal well and truly fit for a king. Sylvain should consider himself lucky? Especially as Felix reaches into his pocket for those sweet buns, calling back to Sylvain as he sets the cutely tied package right beside the bowl.]
See for yourself.
[Climb out of bed and eat your dinner, lazybones.]
[ he could crawl off the bed and inspect it, but sylvain's a big enough fan of food that he can tell simply by the smell that it's not dog food - no, it's something delicious, and almost on cue, an audible rumble growls from his stomach. ]
Wait, I didn't think you'd actually bring dinner.
[ and honestly, sylvain didn't? things had ended on an awkward note, and felix had seem perturbed enough about the whole interruption that he hadn't expected him to bother. but he's very open to welcoming being wrong in this circumstance, and to that end, the redhead rolls over so he's the right way up again, swinging his legs around to the side of the bed. it takes him a minute to reorient himself, smooth the artful mess of his hair back down (it doesn't work), and glance from felix to the uncharacteristically adorable package sitting next to the bowl on his desk.
he's suddenly, strangely, overcome by a warm feeling at the rather selfless gesture, so reminiscent of similar things felix had done for him many times before over the years - and it's just quite a strong reminder for a still sleep-addled brain of just how much sylvain treasures their relationship, whatever that was now. treasures him. and to that end, his expression softens somewhat as he draws himself up, stretching like a cat to appear unaffected. always play it straight. never show a weakness, even though this - these feelings - are in no way a weakness. something he's still working on. ]
And how was the rest of your day? Did you get to stab anything new?
[ sylvain inquires, moving over towards felix and the bounty that the desk held. it doesn't take him long to pick up the bowl and begin inhaling the contents, leaning against the table standing up because, 1.) who has time to sit down to eat dinner, and 2.) why would he do anything that doesn't involve looking at felix, when he's got the privilege of having him alone to himself in his own room? the view, and the potential of the situation, were two things that sylvain greatly appreciates in this moment.
there's a muffled but genuine thank you as he starts to eat, half-silenced by the spoon in his mouth. ]
[It's true that Felix didn't, like, outright tell Sylvain he'd bring him dinner, but Felix still huffs out a breath, turning to shoot Sylvain a Look. It was implied, surely. Understood. Felix wasn't going to let Sylvain skip two meals and then feel very, very sorry for himself—but it's difficult to reach for those sharp words as he watches Sylvain slip to his feet, watches Sylvain stretch in a most obscene manner. Or, well. There's nothing at all obscene about it; it's nothing Felix hasn't seen many times before, and yet it's almost as though Felix is seeing Sylvain in an entirely new way? Or maybe he's always seen Sylvain like this—always been aware that Sylvain is attractive—but is just now allowing himself to accept it. So many others have—
—well. That's the crux of the matter: so many others have all but fallen over themselves for Sylvain, lured in by his Crest, his easy-going demeanor, his looks, and Felix never wanted to be one of them. Felix knows what it's like to be seen as something else, after all—and no, of course it isn't the same; of course people viewing Felix as a (poor) substitute for Glenn is not the same as people viewing Sylvain as, like, an easy ticket to a better life, but Felix refused to add to that... burden. Sylvain was—is—simply Sylvain, to Felix? A fool and a scoundrel and his closest friend.
And now Felix's attention is focused solely on Sylvain as he crosses the room to grab his dinner, because it's the look on Sylvain's face as much as it is his stupid hair, or the skin exposed by his stupid shirt, or the way he digs into the stew with reckless abandon. Felix is rarely selfish, but in this moment, Felix wants nothing more than to swat that bowl from Sylvain's hands and kiss him, claim his undivided attention for the rest of the night. It's awful. Felix is awful, and thus Felix awkwardly clears his throat.]
No. [Now it's Felix's turn to look to the windows, crossing his arms as he notes the last vestiges of light in the sky.] But the day isn't over yet.
[Hilarious, and made all the better by the stretch of silence that follows. He's giving Sylvain a chance to eat, he tells himself. That's all. It definitely isn't that he has no idea of what to say in this moment—but he settles for something simple soon enough. An excuse to once again glance over at a perfectly mussed Sylvain.]
...I take it you're feeling better. You certainly slept long enough.
[Or so he assumes? Who knows what Sylvain was up to.]
[ it doesn't take long at all for the stew to entirely disappear into him, a habit he'd learned from eating anything on the road near ingrid. placing the bowl back down on top of his desk, sylvain's attention is drawn once more to the nicely wrapped package that had arrived alongside dinner - and curiosity wins the better of him, pulling at the string to reveal the sweet buns that laid in wait inside. there's an almost childish delight that crosses his face as he takes one, and immediately stuffs it in his mouth, the bread also disappearing in a matter of seconds into the void. despite the everything that had happened the past two days, this interaction felt so comfortable. normal, but... different.
felix was here pretending to be standoffish but actually just ending up being really sweet, sylvain was devouring everything in sight while half undressed, and, well? that checks out for their history, actually. ]
Much better. I only fit the one nap in, but the headache from His Highness' poison has disappeared so I'm going to count that as a win.
[ they're at right angles to each other as he lounges against the desk, the room cast in the warm light of dusk and the last rays of sun. it's picturesque. strangely cozy. and felix only looks more beautiful in this moment, though sylvain isn't quite sure how that's possible.
it's then he realises there's a noticeable coating of sugar on his lips from the bun, and while he subconsciously swipes his tongue lazily across them to remove it, it becomes a very conscious movement as he maintains his gaze with those ruby irises as he does so.
that's when it's kind of over for him, really. it only takes one slightly flirtatious move in felix's presence to send his mind absolutely sailing down the gutter, and all of a sudden, sylvain's acutely aware of the long silence stretching out between them, as well as all the ways he'd like to interrupt it. he settles for, strangely, a more genuine way to break it, a grin on his face that's not facetious for once - but rather, one that emanates a warm sense of affection. desire. ]
You are, you know.
[ a pause, that hazel gaze surprisingly intense. ]
[Time ticks past—and there are so many things that Felix could say, given that he's never afraid to express his opinion. He could snap at Sylvain to stop scarfing down his food like an ill-mannered idiot; he could inform Sylvain that Mercedes asked how he was feeling as she set aside the best-looking sweet buns just for him; he could tell Sylvain that one long nap is the same as two or more shorter naps; he could mutter something about napkins as he watches Sylvain lick the sugar from his lips, but it's as though speaking requires something Felix does not currently possess. And maybe that's for the best? The food has been delivered, after all, and Sylvain is clearly fine; there's no real reason for Felix to stay.
But he wants to, is the thing. He very much wants to, especially as Sylvain offers him a grin so promising it sends his pulse quickening. Ah. It's why he finds himself focusing on the corner of Sylvain's mouth while Sylvain speaks, noting the bit of sugar that he didn't—couldn't?—quite reach. There, perhaps, is a reason to stay, if he needs one—but then Sylvain's words actually reach him, slightly delayed by such a stupid thing, and his eyes flick right back up to Sylvain's. A second of study, followed by an oh-so quiet huff when he can't find a hint of dishonesty.]
And you're ridiculous.
[Grumbled words entirely without heat? Something to say at last as he uncrosses his arms, hesitating for a moment before turning to take a purposeful step closer. He looks... the same as always, really. A little redder in the face, perhaps, but his expression is measured, almost determined.]
Don't try to flatter me, [he says, simply, as he brings his hands up, fingers settling lightly atop—framing—Sylvain's jaw.] It won't work.
What if I told you it wasn't flattery? Just an observation.
[ even on the off-chance felix had tried to leave, sylvain would've argued - it's weird to think this way, but it felt like they'd missed out on time already despite having been best friends for the better part of their lives, so why would he waste more now? that's why he looks very much pleased as felix comes closer, places his fingers feather-light on sylvain's face which is cruelly deceptive for someone he knows could hand his ass to him in a matter of seconds. his friend, always a bewildering combination of night and day - tender yet guarded, gentle yet strong, passionate yet prickly.
an almost magnetic force draws sylvain's hands to the sides of felix's hips, the proximity just a little too much to resist for someone who historically already has trouble keeping to himself. hooking his thumbs over the top tan belt, sylvain's obviously looking to cause problems on purpose - felix's jacket was nice, yes, but it hid the jut of his waist, the flat muscles of his stomach... unfair, really, considering sylvain was largely on display right now.
purposefully, boldly, the redhead uses the leverage from the belt to tug him an inch closer with a wicked grin on his face. ]
Like we established yesterday, I know better than to lie to you. You know I'm telling the truth, don't you?
[ he's a shameless flirt, but there's this odd sense of pride, of warmth when he manages to make felix squirm and blush. their faces are only a couple of inches apart now, and sylvain turns his head just a fraction into felix's left palm, his lips very much intentionally brushing against the calloused skin while he maintains that gaze. ]
[Ah, but that's the thing: Felix does know that Sylvain is telling the truth. The truth as he sees it, anyway, and yet, as Felix feels Sylvain's hands curl about his waist, Felix thinks... of a spar. Those times where he forgoes feints in favor of a more, mmm, straightforward approach, just when his opponent thinks they have him all figured out. They expect his well-telegraphed move to be a trick, and thus he surprises them with the complete opposite. It's very satisfying.
And Felix is sure that Sylvain doesn't see this as any sort of spar, or game, or anything even remotely similar—but Felix is sure that he knows exactly what he's doing as he says such sappy (in Felix's opinion, anyway) things? As he looks Felix dead in the eye while pressing a not-quite-kiss to his palm, because that... is a dirty trick that sends a shiver racing through him. Felix is defenseless, in this moment; Felix is all but laid bare, his body telling Sylvain what Felix will not, cannot, say. If Sylvain were to continue right along—
—but he did so in the stables? And Felix thinks, once again, of a spar, of the importance of catching one's opponent off guard—but above that, Felix blinks back at Sylvain and thinks of how badly he wants him. Him. This fool with a bit of sugar still clinging to his lips, and Felix leans forward before he can think better of it, a disgruntled little noise escaping him just before he licks at the corner of Sylvain's mouth. It's only sugar; he hates it, true, but it has no right to shock his tongue like it does, that spark of electricity buzzing through his jaw. Alchemy...]
You are ridiculous, [he mutters, waspishly, against Sylvain's lips, fingers pressing that much more firmly against his jawline.] Just—keep your observations to yourself.
[Shut up, because Felix's eyes are closed, and his face is hot, and both his heart and his mind are racing as he hovers too close, but not close enough.]
[ the grin is still clear in his voice, though his words are little more than a murmur against the brush of felix's lips. the swipe of felix's tongue against the corner of his mouth had put absolutely carnal thoughts in his head, his bare fingers tightening around where they were curled on the belt at felix's waist. the leather almost creaked - because even though they'd been this close, kissed, touched the other night, somehow this was so much different. they were sober, for one, but doing this seriously as something they both wanted in the long-term? it was an alien feeling, and one much more heady than sylvain had expected it could be.
looking over hooded lashes to see felix's eyes closed, his cheeks flushed - in that moment, sylvain feels a strange sort of thrill pool inside him. that he had this effect on felix, that he could do this to him, the one that he'd wanted for probably longer than he realised. ]
You're gonna have to put up with it, unfortunately. [ his tone is deep, husky - one that betrays everything he's feeling and thinking right now. ] There's so many things I need to remind you of - like how attractively fearsome you are when you're holding a sword, or how sinful you look in those black leggings.
[ to punctuate his point, sylvain closes the scant gap between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss - much more gentle than anything that had happened on felix's floor last night. it's sweet and comforting, everything that sylvain pretends not to be, but what he'd reveal to give the one person who deserved it. it's also hard not to immediately drown into felix, and the restraint sylvain is exercising is fairly immense at this point, betrayed only by him deepening the kiss for a fraction of a second by swiping his tongue across felix's before pulling away for a breath. ]
[Felix has carefully cataloged his weaknesses throughout the years; the only way to grow stronger, he knows, is to do his absolute best to overcome them, but not once did he consider that a person could have such an effect on him. Oh, there's Dimitri, of course; no one makes him quite as angry, makes him feel quite as helpless, as his oldest friend, and yet that is—hmm. That is a deep-seated frustration that makes him want to retreat into himself; this is an odd buzz just beneath his skin that urges him forward, past the carefully kept walls of his own making. Maybe, just maybe, it's okay to want. To need. To rely on—to trust—this particular person in this particular sense, because it's been so very, very long since he's allowed himself to be vulnerable in any sense of the word.
...He wonders how long it's been for Sylvain, then. If Sylvain finds this every bit as difficult as he does, despite the, ah, practiced ease with which Sylvain fires back—but there were those awkward moments in the stable, weren't there? And there's this kiss, which starts so gently, so considerately. So honestly. Felix senses it, somehow, and maybe that shouldn't be a surprise; he's always been good at pointing out when Sylvain is putting on a show, and yet the press of Sylvain's lips against his doesn't feel anything like a performance. Sylvain is going about this... carefully.
And that's good, Felix knows, even as he cracks open his eyes the second Sylvain breaks away, that odd buzz pushing him to be reckless. Sylvain's shirt is still undone; Felix's gaze slides to his lips, to his throat, to the hollows just above his collarbones.]
You never know when to shut up.
[Words with bite, perhaps, but no real heat. Felix knows how to shut Sylvain up, now; he'll take full advantage of this new tactic as often as he needs to, but he pulls a hand free from Sylvain's face, slipping it down to gently grasp the wrist of the hand gripping his belt far too tightly. He's suddenly all too aware of his many, many layers? And he could shove Sylvain away to peel them off himself, sure, and yet, despite the way he lifts his chin, clearly angling for another kiss as quickly as possible—]
Unbuckle it before you ruin it, [he directs, allowing it to hanf between them before deliberately dragging his gaze back up to meet Sylvain's.] I don't have time to repair whatever you might ruin.
[Whatever. It implies more than a single belt buckle, more than his sword belt—but Goddess forbid Felix come right out and say such a thing, even though he wants nothing more than to shed his cape and his coat.]
[ he responds, flashing felix a smirk in return to the pointed barb - hits that never seemed to land on sylvain, not that he thinks felix would even want them to. just one of the various ways they were so used to each other, comfortable with the way they communicated, because felix could be as prickly enough to scare off even the toughest of the blue lions and it'd still never drive sylvain away.
the redhead hesitates for a second as he feels long, cool fingers grasp his wrist - as much as he was skilled at reading a room, sylvain's dimly aware that y'know, this is still new, still fresh, maybe felix doesn't want him to put something into motion he can't stop - but then felix speaks, and honestly, sylvain needs no more encouragement.
looking down his nose at felix's face tilted up towards his own, that stoic look ever just barely slipping as felix insinuates something sylvain would never expect to leave his mouth, his expression is an equal mix of fondness and mischief as he happily does what he's told in not so many words. there had been many years between them of reading through the lines, and that was only going to continue to work in his favour, it seemed. ]
So rude, to insinuate I don't know my own strength.
[ sylvain replies with a grin, loosing felix's grip on his wrist so he could slide his fingers around the belt buckle at the other's waist instead. with a smooth movement, he pulls felix just an inch closer to him with the purchase he has on the leather, making quick work of that belt - and the next one, and the next one. felix certainly didn't wear clothes with ease of removal in mind. ]
Luckily, I do.
[ and among the distant clatter of felix's belts falling to the floor, including the one holding his sword and scabbard, sylvain's bare hands reach up towards the v of his coat instead. the clasps there are fucking fiddly so it takes sylvain more time than he'd like to methodically undo them - a perfect time to duck his head towards felix's once more, meeting his lips in a much more powerful, claiming kiss. ]
[Felix's, ah, choice of words aside, he wouldn't trust Sylvain with such a task if he doubted Sylvain were up to it—and of course Sylvain is. Of course he pulls Felix closer, deft fingers undoing buckle after buckle, and Felix feels a thrill race through him as he slips his hands atop Sylvain's shoulders. It doesn't matter how they spend the remainder of their evening, truth be told, because Felix holds little stock in honor; he has none left to protect, but while the thought of Sylvain pressing him to the mattress is a good one, so, too, is the thought of Sylvain simply holding him, both of them murmuring between slow, deep kisses. If this is real—which Felix thinks that it is—then there's no real hurry.
But while Felix knows they've plenty of time, Felix's infamous impatience soon rears its ugly head, made all the worse by Sylvain's forceful kiss. The sound of his sword hitting the floor is but a secondary concern; it's endured far worse, Felix knows, and thus Felix surges upward, shrugging off his coat even as he pulls Sylvain's bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it to tenderness. It's easy, losing himself in this. The room falls away around them, Felix giving it little to no thought as he steers Sylvian backwards, pushes him against the wall before dropping his mouth to the line of his jaw, the pulse point of his throat. He remembers being mesmerized by the open collar of Sylvain's shirt the night before? It's much the same now as it was then, except that now Felix can drag his teeth over the exposed flesh, shivering, ever so lightly, before he presses closer, sucking a bruise to the unmarred surface. Saints. He wants to leave a trail of marks here; he wants to turn Sylvain's throat all sorts of colors, but—]
Sylvain—
[It's a little like a kid eating too much candy at once? Felix needs to pause, nosing into the crook of Sylvain's neck as a surprisingly quiet sigh escapes him. It feels good to be stripped to his turtleneck, his stupid bishop-sleeved overshirt—but he still feels overheated, for whatever reason. Overwhelmed. He can't recall the last time he wanted anything—anyone—this badly.]
At least you picked a better place, this time. [Ah, well. A beat; a heavier breath, puffed against the side of Sylvain's neck, before Felix adds:] To kiss me.
[Remember his half-hearted criticism in the stables?? Of course Felix does—and of course Felix brings it back now, because owning up to shamelessly shoving Sylvain against the wall is! Well! They're here; shut up about it.]
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...He'll go mad. Or maybe he's already gone mad, because Sylvain steps out from the stall and Felix's eyes drift to his shoulders, watching muscles bunch as Sylvain raises his arms. They've spent years alongside one another; Felix has seen Sylvain in every state imaginable, and yet Felix kisses Sylvain three (3) times and it's as if he's never seen Sylvain before in his life. Ridiculous. Obviously this is Sylvain's fault; obviously he must pay, if Felix can manage to pull himself together. Two naps! Felix manages an incredulous snort, at least, but let it be known that he briefly imagines curling up together once more, Sylvain's arm a comfortable weight draped over his—
—no? No. Felix shoves the thought from his mind, because the things Sylvain is doing to him? Unbelievable. He's keeping a list of offenses that Sylvain will answer for.]
As lazy as ever. Some of us have training to attend to. [Chores to complete, mages to accidentally annoy in the greenhouse. You know! The usual, hence Felix's pause as he manages to tear his eyes from Sylvain's shoulders long enough to give the man a brief, artfully uninterested once-over.] Next you'll say you expect dinner to be carried to you.
[Felix would do it, just as an excuse to slip into Sylvain's room at a later point. Felix is, in fact, offering to do it, in his roundabout way—but Sylvain should prepare himself for copious amounts of Rudeness.]
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[ though, sure, he was excellent at weaseling out of things he didn't particularly enjoy. looking after his mount was one of the few chores sylvain looked forward to, but when it came to maintaining the monastery grounds or guard duty, the enthusiasm was much more difficult to find. plus, sylvain's almost certain that some of the other blue lions were feeling equally as trash as he was today - perhaps they hadn't drunk as much as he'd ended up having, but they were also much smaller. well, most of them.
and then felix makes the classic mistake of giving him an inch, a grin spreading across sylvain's face as he feels felix's eyes wander over him. that in itself sends an electric feeling down his spine, because despite this being a fairly common occurrence among the adoring public, it had never felt so real and welcome as it does now, those ruby eyes raking down his body.
perhaps he should forgo the nap, and go straight to the cold bath. ]
Oh? Are you offering me room service?
[ voice dripping with mischief and more than a little hint of innuendo - sylvain can't help himself, because cornering felix is too fun - sylvain takes a half-step closer to the other, long arms snaking around felix's hips and linking up at the small of his back. ]
So gracious. I accept.
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Or: They're very close now, and Felix is all too aware of it as he tilts his head back, fixing Sylvain with the sharpest look he can muster. He wants to be annoyed, given that Sylvain breezed into his bubble with absolutely no concern whatsoever; he is annoyed, to a degree, and yet it pales in comparison to the realization that Sylvain's hands fit surprisingly well where they are.]
I didn't offer.
[He did. They both know that he did, just like they both know there's no reason for Felix to bring a hand to Sylvain's chest, grabbing onto his shirt much like he did the night before. So much of this is like the night before, actually. The closeness. The warmth. Sylvain pushing Felix's buttons.]
I'll bring you a dish you hate, [is the best threat he can think of—and what's sad is that this dumb attempt actually requires brainpower? A good deal of it. He's so focused on being contrary in this moment that he pays no mind to the fact that he is attempting to tug Sylvain down to him.] Fish skewers. Something disgusting.
[A crust of moldy bread! He'll workshop it.]
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[ one scenario sure ends in more hunger than the other, but felix is the draw, not the food. sylvain had long given up actually experiencing any 'honeymoon' period in a relationship - none of them had been real, all of it for show and cheap thrills. so experiencing one now was quite disconcerting for him, being so acutely aware of felix's presence, of his own desire to spend as much time as possible with someone he'd already spent more time with than anyone else in his life. the emotion tasted strange in his mouth and was plainly overwhelming to someone who'd always run as fast as he could from genuine affection - but sylvain wants to get used to this.
he could get used to the way felix scowls back at him, pretending to be thoroughly done with his cheap shots; the way his long fingers instinctively sought out his shirt; the faint blush that creeps into felix's cheeks when sylvain tests their new boundaries. he looks forward to getting used to it, because - well, this is better than he'd felt in some considerable time. ]
So, when will you drop by? Four, five in the evening? I'm easy.
[ a rueful grin is shot felix's way before sylvain tightens his linked arms just a fraction, pulling the other a maddening inch closer to him. their faces are so close, sylvain can feel felix's breath heat his lips, doing absolutely nothing to quell the racing of his heart.
what a scene someone could walk into right now, if either of them were thinking of that. whew. ]
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...Hmm. Felix rolls his eyes, sure, but Felix still cants his head, his own heart pounding in his chest as his eyes drop to Sylvain's grin. Terrible. Felix very much wants to go back to Sylvain's room right now, and not to—well, he wouldn't be opposed, but it's more about spending time with Sylvain in a nice, quiet place? Talking and teasing and figuring out how close is too close, if that's even a possibility. It isn't like Felix knows. He's let so few people touch him, over the years; maybe Sylvain's touch will become overwhelming at some point, but for now Felix thinks of Sylvain's lips, raising himself just high enough to murmur against them.]
Far later than five. I'm not going to rush through anything for—
[—your sake, obviously, but that sure is a loud bang behind him? The sound of someone dropping something onto the ground, and as Felix whips his head about—probably whacking Sylvain in the face with his stupid ponytail, so sorry—that sure is Ingrid he spies, standing above a bucket that's presumably full of something. He can't quite make out her expression? It's, like, half-disapproving, half-something else entirely, and yet, before he can even think to snap at her, she turns away with a shake of her head. Was that a muttered fragment of a sentence... something, something, about time, perhaps...
...Mysterious. Truly. Plenty for Felix to puzzle over as he stands there, hold on Sylvain's shirt tightening as he watches her walk away. He needs a second to reboot.]
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he doesn't relinquish his hold on felix, but the entire situation is just so comedic that sylvain can't help himself, letting out a hearty, amused laugh that he just can't keep contained even though he knows he's probably going to end up with a sword inserted into him for doing so. so, ingrid knows. who cares? given her uncanny ability to know what him, felix or dimitri were thinking before they were even thinking it themselves, sylvain doubts that it's come at any surprise to her.
okay. done laughing. idly, he notices felix has yet to respond, his fingers so tightly bunched in his shirt that his knuckles were almost going white - no doubt a stressful situation for him, but an extremely amusing one for sylvain. peering into felix's face, the redhead grins knowingly; ]
Hey. You doing alright?
[ and something tells him he should probably be a bit more diplomatic, considering how hilarious he's found this. ]
Look, it's Ingrid. She probably knew before we did.
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But now it's out there. So what? It's not like it changes anything Felix feels, or Felix wants; it's not like there was anything to be done about it then, and it's not like there's anything to do about it now, but Felix still feels... disgruntled. Mildly. He's never liked surprises, after all, and it all goes back to that need to be in control.]
Stop trying to... comfort me, [he all but spits out, albeit with more force than actual heat.] I don't need it.
[He's very cool, thanks. Very tough. It's why he smoothly twists free of Sylvain's grasp, shooting him a Look even as he immediately misses his warmth, immediately mourns the kiss-that-wasn't. That, at least, is fixable; it would be the simplest thing in the world to pull Sylvain down for their fourth full kiss, but Felix's stubborn pride gets in the way? Sends him brushing right past Sylvain, instead—and that companionable bump of their arms should let Sylvain know he isn't in too much trouble. Felix is just back to being prickly! A shocked hedgehog curling into a little ball once more.]
You can answer her questions. Perhaps I'll even tell her to bring your dinner.
[He won't. Ingrid would probably tell him that she is not getting involved in a lovers' quarrel or something equally as ridiculous, so—farewell for now, Sylvain! Felix is off to do Felix-y things for the remainder of the afternoon, most of which involve him smacking things with his sword. It's quite therapeutic; it definitely puts him in a better mood by the time he shows up to Sylvain's door just a tad after five, a covered bowl of spicy fish and turnip stew in hand—and a few still-warm sweet buns tucked into his pocket, neatly wrapped in a napkin by Mercedes' capable hands. The things Felix does for Sylvain...
...Anyway, he's here, and you bet he's going to kick at the door for a moment before actually opening it (with or without an invitation). Hi, hello, delivery...]
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eventually sylvain just gives up, the pounding headache and overly eventful morning far too much for such a simple creature. if there's one thing he could make good on for the day, it was his promise of having at the very minimum one nap - so after washing up from the stables, he ends up right back in his dormitory room, face-first collapsing into the bed. who knew that genuine caring could be so exhausting, and why did no-one ever see fit to warn him? these and other assorted thoughts courtesy of sylvain falling into a deep hangover-fueled sleep.
somewhat later, he's not so much startled out of his slumber (sylvain's always been a disgustingly heavy sleeper) as slightly disturbed, the thumping against his door and the rattling of the wood in the frame as someone - is someone kicking it?? - causing him to roll over on to his side and let out a loud groan.
it's quite a sight, actually, the future of house gautier draped messily over his bed in a way that should be questionable in terms of comfort, shirt undone except for three, four? buttons, and hair even more chaotic than it usually was.
when the door kicking ends up in door opening, the hinges screeching do a little something to wake him up a little further, brown eyes cracking open slightly to see felix... upside down. it takes a few moments for the hamster wheel to start turning again before sylvain fully comes back to earth, a sleepy but still frustratingly coy grin tugging at his lips as he realises the situation. ]
Hello, beautiful.
[ barely awake sylvain seems to have even less of a filter than alert sylvain, unfortunately. stifling a yawn, his eyes dart to the window and realises it's dark now - a bonus, arguably, that he'd managed to sleep the rest of the day away and expedite seeing felix again. hold on-- ]
Wait, is that what I think it is?
[ f o o d. ]
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So he's thinking of nothing in particular as he steps into Sylvain's room, and maybe that's his greatest mistake to date. Thinking of nothing means that there's nothing to distract him from the sight of Sylvain sprawled atop his bed, messy in the best possible ways. And Felix knows, in this moment, that this is Sylvain's, like, Goddess-granted gift? Felix waking up from a nap is a mess of tangled hair, shirt sticking to him in the most uncomfortable manner, but Sylvain looks... unfairly good. Annoyingly good. The training grounds call to Felix once more.
But Felix manages, somehow, to tear his eyes away from Sylvain, kicking the door closed behind him after Sylvain offers him that ridiculous greeting. Beautiful. Sylvain, Felix decides, is a much better kisser than he is a conversationalist, and that has nothing at all to do with the way Sylvain's words affect him. So stupid.]
Dog food? [His best attempt at a cool, calm tone as he walks across the room to Sylvain's desk. Hmm.] Perhaps.
[Jokes! Throwing Sylvain's earlier words right back in his face! Except that it's Dedue's cooking in the bowl Felix sets atop a neat stack of books, of course, so it's a meal well and truly fit for a king. Sylvain should consider himself lucky? Especially as Felix reaches into his pocket for those sweet buns, calling back to Sylvain as he sets the cutely tied package right beside the bowl.]
See for yourself.
[Climb out of bed and eat your dinner, lazybones.]
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Wait, I didn't think you'd actually bring dinner.
[ and honestly, sylvain didn't? things had ended on an awkward note, and felix had seem perturbed enough about the whole interruption that he hadn't expected him to bother. but he's very open to welcoming being wrong in this circumstance, and to that end, the redhead rolls over so he's the right way up again, swinging his legs around to the side of the bed. it takes him a minute to reorient himself, smooth the artful mess of his hair back down (it doesn't work), and glance from felix to the uncharacteristically adorable package sitting next to the bowl on his desk.
he's suddenly, strangely, overcome by a warm feeling at the rather selfless gesture, so reminiscent of similar things felix had done for him many times before over the years - and it's just quite a strong reminder for a still sleep-addled brain of just how much sylvain treasures their relationship, whatever that was now. treasures him. and to that end, his expression softens somewhat as he draws himself up, stretching like a cat to appear unaffected. always play it straight. never show a weakness, even though this - these feelings - are in no way a weakness. something he's still working on. ]
And how was the rest of your day? Did you get to stab anything new?
[ sylvain inquires, moving over towards felix and the bounty that the desk held. it doesn't take him long to pick up the bowl and begin inhaling the contents, leaning against the table standing up because, 1.) who has time to sit down to eat dinner, and 2.) why would he do anything that doesn't involve looking at felix, when he's got the privilege of having him alone to himself in his own room? the view, and the potential of the situation, were two things that sylvain greatly appreciates in this moment.
there's a muffled but genuine thank you as he starts to eat, half-silenced by the spoon in his mouth. ]
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—well. That's the crux of the matter: so many others have all but fallen over themselves for Sylvain, lured in by his Crest, his easy-going demeanor, his looks, and Felix never wanted to be one of them. Felix knows what it's like to be seen as something else, after all—and no, of course it isn't the same; of course people viewing Felix as a (poor) substitute for Glenn is not the same as people viewing Sylvain as, like, an easy ticket to a better life, but Felix refused to add to that... burden. Sylvain was—is—simply Sylvain, to Felix? A fool and a scoundrel and his closest friend.
And now Felix's attention is focused solely on Sylvain as he crosses the room to grab his dinner, because it's the look on Sylvain's face as much as it is his stupid hair, or the skin exposed by his stupid shirt, or the way he digs into the stew with reckless abandon. Felix is rarely selfish, but in this moment, Felix wants nothing more than to swat that bowl from Sylvain's hands and kiss him, claim his undivided attention for the rest of the night. It's awful. Felix is awful, and thus Felix awkwardly clears his throat.]
No. [Now it's Felix's turn to look to the windows, crossing his arms as he notes the last vestiges of light in the sky.] But the day isn't over yet.
[Hilarious, and made all the better by the stretch of silence that follows. He's giving Sylvain a chance to eat, he tells himself. That's all. It definitely isn't that he has no idea of what to say in this moment—but he settles for something simple soon enough. An excuse to once again glance over at a perfectly mussed Sylvain.]
...I take it you're feeling better. You certainly slept long enough.
[Or so he assumes? Who knows what Sylvain was up to.]
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[ it doesn't take long at all for the stew to entirely disappear into him, a habit he'd learned from eating anything on the road near ingrid. placing the bowl back down on top of his desk, sylvain's attention is drawn once more to the nicely wrapped package that had arrived alongside dinner - and curiosity wins the better of him, pulling at the string to reveal the sweet buns that laid in wait inside. there's an almost childish delight that crosses his face as he takes one, and immediately stuffs it in his mouth, the bread also disappearing in a matter of seconds into the void. despite the everything that had happened the past two days, this interaction felt so comfortable. normal, but... different.
felix was here pretending to be standoffish but actually just ending up being really sweet, sylvain was devouring everything in sight while half undressed, and, well? that checks out for their history, actually. ]
Much better. I only fit the one nap in, but the headache from His Highness' poison has disappeared so I'm going to count that as a win.
[ they're at right angles to each other as he lounges against the desk, the room cast in the warm light of dusk and the last rays of sun. it's picturesque. strangely cozy. and felix only looks more beautiful in this moment, though sylvain isn't quite sure how that's possible.
it's then he realises there's a noticeable coating of sugar on his lips from the bun, and while he subconsciously swipes his tongue lazily across them to remove it, it becomes a very conscious movement as he maintains his gaze with those ruby irises as he does so.
that's when it's kind of over for him, really. it only takes one slightly flirtatious move in felix's presence to send his mind absolutely sailing down the gutter, and all of a sudden, sylvain's acutely aware of the long silence stretching out between them, as well as all the ways he'd like to interrupt it. he settles for, strangely, a more genuine way to break it, a grin on his face that's not facetious for once - but rather, one that emanates a warm sense of affection. desire. ]
You are, you know.
[ a pause, that hazel gaze surprisingly intense. ]
Beautiful.
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But he wants to, is the thing. He very much wants to, especially as Sylvain offers him a grin so promising it sends his pulse quickening. Ah. It's why he finds himself focusing on the corner of Sylvain's mouth while Sylvain speaks, noting the bit of sugar that he didn't—couldn't?—quite reach. There, perhaps, is a reason to stay, if he needs one—but then Sylvain's words actually reach him, slightly delayed by such a stupid thing, and his eyes flick right back up to Sylvain's. A second of study, followed by an oh-so quiet huff when he can't find a hint of dishonesty.]
And you're ridiculous.
[Grumbled words entirely without heat? Something to say at last as he uncrosses his arms, hesitating for a moment before turning to take a purposeful step closer. He looks... the same as always, really. A little redder in the face, perhaps, but his expression is measured, almost determined.]
Don't try to flatter me, [he says, simply, as he brings his hands up, fingers settling lightly atop—framing—Sylvain's jaw.] It won't work.
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[ even on the off-chance felix had tried to leave, sylvain would've argued - it's weird to think this way, but it felt like they'd missed out on time already despite having been best friends for the better part of their lives, so why would he waste more now? that's why he looks very much pleased as felix comes closer, places his fingers feather-light on sylvain's face which is cruelly deceptive for someone he knows could hand his ass to him in a matter of seconds. his friend, always a bewildering combination of night and day - tender yet guarded, gentle yet strong, passionate yet prickly.
an almost magnetic force draws sylvain's hands to the sides of felix's hips, the proximity just a little too much to resist for someone who historically already has trouble keeping to himself. hooking his thumbs over the top tan belt, sylvain's obviously looking to cause problems on purpose - felix's jacket was nice, yes, but it hid the jut of his waist, the flat muscles of his stomach... unfair, really, considering sylvain was largely on display right now.
purposefully, boldly, the redhead uses the leverage from the belt to tug him an inch closer with a wicked grin on his face. ]
Like we established yesterday, I know better than to lie to you. You know I'm telling the truth, don't you?
[ he's a shameless flirt, but there's this odd sense of pride, of warmth when he manages to make felix squirm and blush. their faces are only a couple of inches apart now, and sylvain turns his head just a fraction into felix's left palm, his lips very much intentionally brushing against the calloused skin while he maintains that gaze. ]
Expect it to happen often.
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And Felix is sure that Sylvain doesn't see this as any sort of spar, or game, or anything even remotely similar—but Felix is sure that he knows exactly what he's doing as he says such sappy (in Felix's opinion, anyway) things? As he looks Felix dead in the eye while pressing a not-quite-kiss to his palm, because that... is a dirty trick that sends a shiver racing through him. Felix is defenseless, in this moment; Felix is all but laid bare, his body telling Sylvain what Felix will not, cannot, say. If Sylvain were to continue right along—
—but he did so in the stables? And Felix thinks, once again, of a spar, of the importance of catching one's opponent off guard—but above that, Felix blinks back at Sylvain and thinks of how badly he wants him. Him. This fool with a bit of sugar still clinging to his lips, and Felix leans forward before he can think better of it, a disgruntled little noise escaping him just before he licks at the corner of Sylvain's mouth. It's only sugar; he hates it, true, but it has no right to shock his tongue like it does, that spark of electricity buzzing through his jaw. Alchemy...]
You are ridiculous, [he mutters, waspishly, against Sylvain's lips, fingers pressing that much more firmly against his jawline.] Just—keep your observations to yourself.
[Shut up, because Felix's eyes are closed, and his face is hot, and both his heart and his mind are racing as he hovers too close, but not close enough.]
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[ the grin is still clear in his voice, though his words are little more than a murmur against the brush of felix's lips. the swipe of felix's tongue against the corner of his mouth had put absolutely carnal thoughts in his head, his bare fingers tightening around where they were curled on the belt at felix's waist. the leather almost creaked - because even though they'd been this close, kissed, touched the other night, somehow this was so much different. they were sober, for one, but doing this seriously as something they both wanted in the long-term? it was an alien feeling, and one much more heady than sylvain had expected it could be.
looking over hooded lashes to see felix's eyes closed, his cheeks flushed - in that moment, sylvain feels a strange sort of thrill pool inside him. that he had this effect on felix, that he could do this to him, the one that he'd wanted for probably longer than he realised. ]
You're gonna have to put up with it, unfortunately. [ his tone is deep, husky - one that betrays everything he's feeling and thinking right now. ] There's so many things I need to remind you of - like how attractively fearsome you are when you're holding a sword, or how sinful you look in those black leggings.
[ to punctuate his point, sylvain closes the scant gap between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss - much more gentle than anything that had happened on felix's floor last night. it's sweet and comforting, everything that sylvain pretends not to be, but what he'd reveal to give the one person who deserved it. it's also hard not to immediately drown into felix, and the restraint sylvain is exercising is fairly immense at this point, betrayed only by him deepening the kiss for a fraction of a second by swiping his tongue across felix's before pulling away for a breath. ]
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...He wonders how long it's been for Sylvain, then. If Sylvain finds this every bit as difficult as he does, despite the, ah, practiced ease with which Sylvain fires back—but there were those awkward moments in the stable, weren't there? And there's this kiss, which starts so gently, so considerately. So honestly. Felix senses it, somehow, and maybe that shouldn't be a surprise; he's always been good at pointing out when Sylvain is putting on a show, and yet the press of Sylvain's lips against his doesn't feel anything like a performance. Sylvain is going about this... carefully.
And that's good, Felix knows, even as he cracks open his eyes the second Sylvain breaks away, that odd buzz pushing him to be reckless. Sylvain's shirt is still undone; Felix's gaze slides to his lips, to his throat, to the hollows just above his collarbones.]
You never know when to shut up.
[Words with bite, perhaps, but no real heat. Felix knows how to shut Sylvain up, now; he'll take full advantage of this new tactic as often as he needs to, but he pulls a hand free from Sylvain's face, slipping it down to gently grasp the wrist of the hand gripping his belt far too tightly. He's suddenly all too aware of his many, many layers? And he could shove Sylvain away to peel them off himself, sure, and yet, despite the way he lifts his chin, clearly angling for another kiss as quickly as possible—]
Unbuckle it before you ruin it, [he directs, allowing it to hanf between them before deliberately dragging his gaze back up to meet Sylvain's.] I don't have time to repair whatever you might ruin.
[Whatever. It implies more than a single belt buckle, more than his sword belt—but Goddess forbid Felix come right out and say such a thing, even though he wants nothing more than to shed his cape and his coat.]
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[ he responds, flashing felix a smirk in return to the pointed barb - hits that never seemed to land on sylvain, not that he thinks felix would even want them to. just one of the various ways they were so used to each other, comfortable with the way they communicated, because felix could be as prickly enough to scare off even the toughest of the blue lions and it'd still never drive sylvain away.
the redhead hesitates for a second as he feels long, cool fingers grasp his wrist - as much as he was skilled at reading a room, sylvain's dimly aware that y'know, this is still new, still fresh, maybe felix doesn't want him to put something into motion he can't stop - but then felix speaks, and honestly, sylvain needs no more encouragement.
looking down his nose at felix's face tilted up towards his own, that stoic look ever just barely slipping as felix insinuates something sylvain would never expect to leave his mouth, his expression is an equal mix of fondness and mischief as he happily does what he's told in not so many words. there had been many years between them of reading through the lines, and that was only going to continue to work in his favour, it seemed. ]
So rude, to insinuate I don't know my own strength.
[ sylvain replies with a grin, loosing felix's grip on his wrist so he could slide his fingers around the belt buckle at the other's waist instead. with a smooth movement, he pulls felix just an inch closer to him with the purchase he has on the leather, making quick work of that belt - and the next one, and the next one. felix certainly didn't wear clothes with ease of removal in mind. ]
Luckily, I do.
[ and among the distant clatter of felix's belts falling to the floor, including the one holding his sword and scabbard, sylvain's bare hands reach up towards the v of his coat instead. the clasps there are fucking fiddly so it takes sylvain more time than he'd like to methodically undo them - a perfect time to duck his head towards felix's once more, meeting his lips in a much more powerful, claiming kiss. ]
no subject
But while Felix knows they've plenty of time, Felix's infamous impatience soon rears its ugly head, made all the worse by Sylvain's forceful kiss. The sound of his sword hitting the floor is but a secondary concern; it's endured far worse, Felix knows, and thus Felix surges upward, shrugging off his coat even as he pulls Sylvain's bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it to tenderness. It's easy, losing himself in this. The room falls away around them, Felix giving it little to no thought as he steers Sylvian backwards, pushes him against the wall before dropping his mouth to the line of his jaw, the pulse point of his throat. He remembers being mesmerized by the open collar of Sylvain's shirt the night before? It's much the same now as it was then, except that now Felix can drag his teeth over the exposed flesh, shivering, ever so lightly, before he presses closer, sucking a bruise to the unmarred surface. Saints. He wants to leave a trail of marks here; he wants to turn Sylvain's throat all sorts of colors, but—]
Sylvain—
[It's a little like a kid eating too much candy at once? Felix needs to pause, nosing into the crook of Sylvain's neck as a surprisingly quiet sigh escapes him. It feels good to be stripped to his turtleneck, his stupid bishop-sleeved overshirt—but he still feels overheated, for whatever reason. Overwhelmed. He can't recall the last time he wanted anything—anyone—this badly.]
At least you picked a better place, this time. [Ah, well. A beat; a heavier breath, puffed against the side of Sylvain's neck, before Felix adds:] To kiss me.
[Remember his half-hearted criticism in the stables?? Of course Felix does—and of course Felix brings it back now, because owning up to shamelessly shoving Sylvain against the wall is! Well! They're here; shut up about it.]