[ 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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[ 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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]
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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.]