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“I missed you, Fe,” Sylvain murmurs into the back of Felix’s neck, careful fingers brushing stray strands of hair away from his shoulder. He ghosts his lips across the first notch of his spine, sending shivers that spark electric currents through each of Felix’s nerve endings, setting them ablaze with want. “Missed you so much.”
Felix can’t say he disagrees, but it’s difficult to find words when Sylvain’s cock is buried deep inside of him. He squirms where he’s seated in his lap, thighs spread wide on either side of Sylvain’s, but there’s not much he can do, not when one of Sylvain’s broad palms is wrapped firmly around his hips, holding him steady.
Sylvain carefully runs a comb through Felix’s hair, humming lightly, as if he’s completely unaffected by this – even though the pulse of his leaking cock inside says otherwise – trailing gentle kisses down the slope of Felix’s shoulder. “Thought about you every day, all the time.”
It’s one of their few moments together, and part of Felix can’t believe Sylvain’s wasting it like this. He’s barely moving his hips, actually, just grinding up every so often, pulling startled, half-broken moans from Felix every time he does it. And his bruising, biting kisses have been replaced by more tender ones, fluttering breaths sighed out to prickle gooseflesh across Felix’s skin.
It’s not that Sylvain doesn’t want him – Felix is sure he does, if his earlier entrance is to be considered at all: riding straight up to the estate gates, blanketed in a quiet layer of snow after a long fall and an even longer, lonelier winter, hair wild and unkept from months spent up north. The border negotiations are going well, he’d written Felix in one of their many letters sent back and forth. I should be home by the end of fall, at the latest. I love you so much. Yours, always, Sylvain.
A month went by. The days grew colder, shorter. Ran into some concerns over the contracts, so there’s more work to be done. Nothing major, but we’re pushing our departure out until the end of Guardian Moon. I miss you like crazy. It’s so cold, I’ve been dreaming about the winters back home. They call them “mild” here!
And then: Their village was raided. Staying to help rebuild. Wishing you the best birthday ever, sweetheart. I’m devastated I’m missing it, but we’ll celebrate when I come home. I’ll spoil you rotten. You’ll probably hate that, huh? Missing you, Sylvain.
When Sylvain had knocked on Felix’s door and fallen to his knees like he was his salvation, it’d only taken them a handful of seconds to get undressed, and only a handful more til Felix was spread out across the bed, Sylvain’s hands – usually the ones warming Felix up – sending shivers up and down his spine as he held him with such careful reverence it almost scared him. I missed you, Sylvain had pressed into the skin of his neck, looking at him like he hung the moon and all her stars. I’m never leaving for that long again.
Once the initial shock of being reunited wore off, things had slowed down considerably, much to Felix’s simmering frustration. Sylvain fingered him open, slick and easy, suckling his mouth around the head of Felix’s cock. He’s always been able to tell when Felix was close, and this time wasn’t any different, pulling off at exactly the wrong time to gather Felix up and swing him around to sit him in his lap, back-to-chest. Sylvain teased his cock up in between his cheeks, purposefully catching the head on his rim over and over until Felix felt like he could cry – the need to be filled by Sylvain was overwhelming. All those nights spread out on their bed, alone, fingering himself open in a poor imitation of his husband’s hands and cock, finally catching up to him.
And then Sylvain had slid his cock snug inside, and just fucking sat him there, in his lap, refusing to let him move. Bastard.
“You – ah – you couldn’t have done this earlier?” Felix is pretty sure his hair has been completely combed through, free of every tangled snarl, but he can’t deny that the calm, rhythmic strokes still feel good, even if they are unnecessary. He can’t help but melt that much further into Sylvain’s grip.
Sylvain chuckles against him, his breath flowing hot across the back of his neck. “Patience, kitten. We have all the time in the world now.”
Felix grits his teeth and squirms when Sylvain shifts. He’s already oversensitive from being stretched so wide, the tip of Sylvain’s cock glancing off his prostate for a moment of white-hot bliss as he resettles Felix onto his lap.
“Sylvain, I’ve been patient, fuck, c’mon, move–”
Sylvain laughs, setting the comb aside with a soft click on Felix’s nightstand. His hands come up to stroke up Felix’s sides, over his taut belly, pausing to rub there before dipping low into his hip bones. “Oh, but I love you like this, keeping me warm. Does it feel good, darling?” He thrusts up, the friction and pressure and sheer heat enough to make Felix sob quietly. “Being filled up by my cock?”
Felix can’t help the broken moan that escapes from deep in his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. In the position Sylvain has him in, it’s impossible to stroke himself off without losing balance, so he tries to relax back into it, squeezing his hands weakly over the tendons of Sylvain’s forearms. His head falls back, but Sylvain’s shoulder catches it, and he turns to move his lips across the side of Felix’s face, murmuring gentle praise that makes him feel completely undone: That’s it, angel. You’re being so good for me. I missed hearing you cry my name, missed all the noises you make when I fill you up and fuck you hard, missed–
It’s too much and not enough. Felix thinks he might actually start crying, blinking back a hot prickle of tears as he presses insistently down onto Sylvain’s cock. He needs more. “Sylvain, want you, want you, inside, please–”
Sylvain laughs again, nuzzling into the nape of Felix’s neck. “I’m already inside, sweetheart. Can’t you feel me? Aren’t I deep enough?” To punctuate his point, Sylvain rocks his hips up, harder this time. The pressure, the fullness, is nearly unbearable. Felix rolls his head back to fit his mouth into Sylvain’s neck, muffling his next moan there.
“Fuck me.”
Sylvain hums, fingers trailing slowly down his stomach, applying firm pressure as he smears through the mess of precome Felix’s cock has been leaking since this whole thing started. “But I thought you liked this, kitten. Being stuffed full of my thick cock, spread so wide around me.” He bites a brief kiss into Felix’s carotid. “Don’t you like it?”
Goddess, Sylvain’s really trying to kill him, isn’t he? Felix can’t help but squirm, attempting to twist around to kiss him, bite him, something, but Sylvain holds him steady, one hand anchored around his hip, the other pressing on the inside of his thigh, keeping him spread wide in his lap.
“Fucking – fuck, Sylvain, come on.”
“Ask nicely and I’ll give it to you, darling.” His voice is a low purr in Felix’s ear, smooth as silk and honey where he licks around the shell. The tickle of Sylvain’s overgrown beard is a wholly new sensation rubbing against the sensitive skin of his neck – at home, he never let it get past a few days of rough stubble. Felix can’t say he minds it.
“Yes, I like it, okay? Please, Sylvain, please, fuck me.” Felix emphasizes this with a quiet whine, twisting his head to look up at him. It’s good to see that Sylvain isn’t completely unaffected, beads of sweat gathering around his hairline as he looks down at Felix, pupils blown wide to eclipse the ring of smoky topaz. “Please.”
Finally, finally, this – the begging, the eye contact – is what does it, what causes Sylvain to take pity on him. He starts to move, somehow managing to pull Felix further onto the bed without slipping out of him, finally settling into a position that’s one of Felix’s favorites – Sylvain’s body half-wedged beneath his, one arm wrapped around his neck to help tilt their faces together, the other pulling Felix’s thigh up, spreading him open.
And then he starts to pull out, slowly, and Felix is about to whine, complain at the feeling of emptiness, before Sylvain snaps his hips back into him, just this side of too rough.
“Fuck, Fe,” Sylvain hisses. “You’re so fucking tight, angel, like you were made for me–”
Sylvain’s voice splinters off into a low groan when he thrusts in again and Felix clenches down hard around him. He feels like he’s crumbling around Sylvain’s cock, pulled apart and shattered into a shell of himself, vulnerable in the way he’s only ever been around Sylvain. Felix pants into his mouth, lips smearing spit and missing more often than they land through his thrusts. “C’mon, ’vain. Fuck me, like that, like that–”
Felix would wait forever for Sylvain. He’s said as much: murmured beneath the sheets on their wedding night, in letters sent north and sealed with the Fraldarius crest, tear-stained and snotty as children before they even knew what weight that promise held. Right now, all Felix can think about is how fucking happy he is that he doesn’t have to wait anymore. Being surrounded on all sides by Sylvain, overwhelmed by the scent of oranges and horses and smoke curls from campfires, stuffed full of his cock, drunk off his touch – it feels like home, like heat and life and love.
“Gonna come,” he realizes with a jolt, moaning against Sylvain’s mouth. He slits his eyes open and Sylvain looks just about as wrecked as Felix feels, sweat pooling in the hollow of his collarbone and slicking through his hair, eyes half-lidded and full of hazy affection.
“Mm,” is the only response Sylvain gives, bringing the hand that isn’t splayed out across the back of Felix’s thigh to his jaw, brushing broad fingertips across his cheek. Felix whimpers when the rough pad of his thumb comes up to pillow against his lower lip, coaxing his mouth to hang open. He whines, letting his eyes shutter again. The contrast is too much, being fucked so roughly and treated with gentle reverence at the same time.
“Sylvain. Gonna come.”
Sylvain hums again, pressing a chaste kiss to his sweaty cheek. “Yeah, baby, I’m close too. Wait for me, okay?”
He doesn’t really know how, but he does – moaning senselessly against Sylvain’s neck as he fucks into him. Felix can feel Sylvain’s thighs quaking as they press up against his body, the room filling up with his own sobs and harsh pants. He cries out stuttered fragments of Sylvain’s name when he whispers yes, you sound so good, louder, kitten, c’mon, lemme hear you, and when Sylvain finally, finally murmurs that’s it, come on my cock, baby, Felix is helpless but to obey, rolling his hips down to meet him thrust for thrust, spilling untouched with a loud sob.
Things get blurry after that – he’s pretty sure Sylvain comes, too, if the heat inside is anything to go by, but he’s too fucked out to do much except moan weakly – and when he comes back around, it’s to the feeling of Sylvain’s thumb brushing across where his cheeks are wet and salty with tears, pressing a constellation of soft kisses to his forehead. His own chest bellows, harsh, deep pants as he struggles to regain the breath his orgasm knocked out of him. Sylvain’s sighing saccharine nonsense into his neck, things like you’re okay, angel, and you did so good, took my cock so well as he holds Felix close.
It’s not the most comfortable position, their sweaty bodies half-stuck together like this, but he’s boneless and content to be held, Sylvain’s cock slowly softening inside him – that is, until his calf starts to cramp up. Felix gingerly flexes his ankle, shifting slowly, and Sylvain starts to pull out.
“S-stay.” His voice quavers.
Sylvain goes still, letting Felix close his legs and rearrange himself on his side, curled up in a half circle. He brushes a sweaty strand of hair off of Felix’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “Fe?”
Maybe it’d be embarrassing if Sylvain hadn’t done it earlier, but he’s well past that point, just desperate for closeness after so many months apart. “Stay. Inside me.” Felix turns to look up at him, more tears threatening to spill. “Please.”
“Oh, darling,” Sylvain breathes, settling against him. Felix can feel his cock shifting inside, still half-hard and stretching him out as Sylvain gathers his arms up around him, the bend of their knees fitting together. He’s so warm where they touch, but after night after night of waking up cold and lonely, Felix can’t even fathom pulling away. “Like this?”
“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, turning to catch Sylvain’s lips against his.
“Anything. Anything for you, sweetheart.”
Sylvain fucks him again that night: softer and slower the next time, cradling Felix’s face in his hands, peppering clusters of kisses across the tear tracks staining his cheeks as he grinds into him. The way he holds him, the sheer sweetness of it all, is almost too much to bear.
Felix moans and cries and sobs through it, letting Sylvain prop him up on his lap and ride him until his thighs give out as he kisses him and whispers reassurances and praise. They sleep in feverish fits in between, unable to keep their hands off of each other for long. Felix wakes through the night to Sylvain already moving deep inside him, murmuring love to fill you up, angel, wanna keep you here all the time, stuffed full of my come as Felix whines against him, oversensitive yet unable to stop, getting off on the sheer fact that Sylvain wants him like this.
In the morning, he has ribbons of plum bruises blooming around his neck and across his shoulders, half-moon crescents carved into the curve of his hips, bitten notches etched into his thighs in the scarlet shape of Sylvain’s mouth. When he blinks his eyes open, it’s to a blur of ginger hair and the soothing dampness of cold, wet cloth tracing up his thigh. Felix stretches and yawns, letting his legs fall open, attempting to roll out the painful aches in his back.
“Morning, darling.”
Sylvain punctuates this with a featherlight kiss to a particularly dark bruise on Felix’s hip. Felix just groans back, because fuck, everything from his wrists to the inside of his thighs fucking hurts.
“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Felix doesn’t even put up a token protest when Sylvain slings him in his arms and carries him to their attached bathroom where the bath is already running, steaming with something that smells like a heady mix of eucalyptus and oranges. When Sylvain sets him down carefully in the steam, Felix keeps arms where they’re looped around his neck, pulling him down in a smiling kiss. Sylvain’s laugh rumbles against his lips as he joins him in the bath and settles Felix gently against his chest.
The bright, citrus notes of whatever oil Sylvain’s added to the bubbles help bring Felix a little further out of sleep, and he hums happily against Sylvain’s lips as he turns up to kiss him.
Sylvain pulls back, a small smile ghosting across his lips. “You alright?”
Felix nods. The heat of the bath is already helping, melting him into a relaxed, fucked-out puddle in Sylvain’s arms. “Mhm.”
His smile unfurls into a wider one, sweet and self-satisfied and just the tiniest bit smug. “’Cause you sound pretty content there, kitten.”
When Felix tilts up for his next kiss, it’s hungrier, deeper, and it turns just this side of filthy towards the end, with Felix straddling Sylvain’s hips and pressing against him. Sometimes, it’s a little maddening – that even like this, he can’t get enough of Sylvain. At least Sylvain feels the same, he thinks tiredly, slumping himself across his broad, freckled chest, thumbs stroking steady paths back and forth across his beard as they kiss.
He whines weakly and nods when Sylvain breathes once more, my heart? and slips his cock past his swollen, loose rim. It only takes a few slow thrusts before Sylvain simply settles him back against his chest, holding him close, still deep inside. Felix revels in the painful pleasure, eyes going glassy as Sylvain kisses his forehead and lets him adjust.
“Love you,” Felix finally murmurs into the slope of his neck.
Sylvain chuckles, stroking gentle patterns across his back with warm, soapy hands. “I love you too, kitten.”