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Love Languages

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“Tell me you like it.”

“Nghh… no.”

Sylvain sighs. He pulls his hips back, and shudders when he feels Felix clench around him. He’s matched by the sound of Felix’s moan, with his mouth hanging open and eyes screwed shut.

“That’s not… hnng,”

Sylvain huffs a laugh, circling that tight heat. “Not what?”

Fuck you.”

Felix, demanding as usual, tries to hump down onto his cock. It makes him groan, but Sylvain stops him, his hands pushing Felix’s flexible thighs further back into the mattress. He reaches out to thumb at the spit pooling at the corner of Felix’s mouth and feels the swordsman’s hot panting breath.

“Tell me,” Sylvain exhales, holding Felix in place while just the tip of his cock pushes insistently against that tight slick heat. “what you want.”

Felix throws his head back and moans, brokenly, his efforts to push down futile under Sylvain’s raw strength. He angles his hips and feels the tip cling to his hole, which trembles and tightens around nothing. Not enough, not enough

“I… I…”

His voice sounds foreign even to him, lost in a haze of pleasure and frustration. He feels Sylvain at his neck, sucking dark bites that are sure to last against his pale skin, and takes a shaking breath.

“That’s it, Felix,” Sylvain soothes. The paladin has no right to sound as unaffected as he does. “Look at me.”

Felix wrenches his eyes open and the sight above him knocks the wind from his lungs. Sylvain, mouth open, taking silent heavy breaths, his red hair slicked back with sweat. “Look what you do to me.”

This time, his voice sounds as wrecked as Felix feels.

“I just… want to know you’re enjoying this, too.”

Felix scowls. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Sylvain leans in so that their foreheads knock together, amber eyes meeting caramel. “Please?” he pleads, voice a honeyed whisper.

He’s not falling for it. Felix grits his teeth. “No.”

Undeterred — a quality Felix has always found simultaneously endearing and insufferable — Sylvain tries again. “Please? For me?”

Felix huffs this time, silent.

“Okay,” Sylvain sighs, withdrawing. Felix misses the contact, and whines despite himself. “How about this: I ask, and you answer. Yes or no. Can you do that?”

A moment passes, and Sylvain teases the head of his cock, still hard, against the most sensitive parts of Felix’s inner thighs.

“I — fine!” Felix snaps, when the pleasure becomes too much to bear. Sylvain grins, victorious. “I’ll … I’ll do it.”

“Good boy.” Sylvain mutters, and as much as he hates it, the words send a jolt of pleasure back to his cock. Felix flushes, lips trembling as he looks away from Sylvain’s eyes to his hair, arms, chest.

“Do you like when I hold you?” asks Sylvain.


Suddenly, Sylvain’s hands are on his body again, one grabbing at Felix’s wrist and another splayed across the back of his thighs, above the round of his ass. They still, holding him in place, like Sylvain’s a hunter and Felix is his trussed up kill.

“Do you like when I kiss you?” Sylvain whispers.

Felix nods.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I..” Felix swallows. “I like.. when you kiss me.”

His reward is a grin and Sylvain’s lips on his neck, biting and licking constellations down his chest. Sylvain latches onto a nipple, sucking at the sensitive skin, and smiles around it when he hears Felix come undone underneath him.

“That’s … hhh…,” the swordsman’s gasps. “not a kiss.”

Sylvain smirks, and he gently releases the abused bud. He lifts his head to push his lips insistently onto Felix’s own, who opens for him, his tongue hot and wet and demanding. Desperate.

Felix’s hands snake out of his hold and grab onto Sylvain’s biceps, pulling him closer, his fingernails leaving crescent moon indents against his tanned skin. Sylvain pushes a breath — amused, taunting — into his mouth, and Felix drinks it in. He’ll take what Sylvain gives him, always and forever. Stolen shared looks on the battlefield, childhood promises they know they can’t guarantee, this oh-so-human physical comfort among the endless hopeless dredge of war.

They break apart only to breathe, both of them panting. Felix, this time, tilts his head up to leave an affectionate kiss at the corner of Sylvain’s lips, which twitches in a wry smile. “Was that better?”

Felix nods, jerkily. “I liked it.” he admits, voice vulnerable and barely a whisper. “I like… everything. With you.”

And he looks so, so sweet like this, blushing as if he’s humiliated by his own feelings, those weak distracting things. It melts Sylvain’s heart. He leans in to kiss him again, but Felix holds out a hand and pushes him away.

“I like … “ Felix’s voice is stuttering, but it grows in confidence as he speaks. “I like when you hold me, when you kiss me, when you touch me.”

Sylvain’s hands are back on his body, roaming absolutely everywhere this time. One hand tweaks a nipple, another strokes the nape of his neck, then they both move to hold Felix’s shoulders.

“I like when you touch my… my thighs.”

Felix feels the electric touch of Sylvain’s hands drifting lightly across his skin before he grabs and shucks his legs up, bending him almost in half. Unbidden, Sylvain reaches down and grabs his length, squeezing at just the right amount of pressure to make Felix groan and buck up.

It’s not enough — there’s something else he likes, he wants, he needs.

“Touch me,” Felix gasps, “I like — I like when you touch my — my hole.”

He hears the sharp intake of breath above him, and if he weren’t already so far gone Felix is sure his face would melt from the heat of his cheeks. As it is, he just lolls against his pillow and begs. “I need it.”

Sylvain, ever the gentleman, obliges, thumbing at the quivering heat and pressing two fingers in. Felix is still wet from their earlier round, but he still clenches tight around his fingers. It’s not so much for preparation — he’d be gentler if that were the case — but he knows Felix loves it, and he’s so, so proud of him for finally saying it. Sylvain hooks his fingers against the rim, thrusting them in and out.

“More,” Felix gasps, feeling all too much of Sylvain’s thick callused fingertips.

Sylvain obliges, adding a third, and Felix moans at the burn when he flexes and spreads them. Sylvain’s fingers push around experimentally, but it doesn’t take long for them to scrape against his prostate. Felix is whimpering now, sucking in quick sharp breaths as he squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He’s too quiet, still. Sylvain will fix that.

“What do you want?” Sylvain purrs, withdrawing to the protest of the body below him, which clings so needily to his fingers. At least his body’s honest; Sylvain’s cock is hard still from the sight but dearly missing Felix.

This time, there’s no resistance to the question from Felix.

“I want — I want you to fuck me.” the words come out in a rush, “I like it, I like it, I love when you fuck me!”

And how can he resist, with such a beautiful man below him, pushing aside his own inhibitions and trying his best for Sylvain — who doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve him. Felix — snappy, callous, lone wolf Felix — baring his desires for him, and only ever him.

Sylvain lines up the head of his cock to Felix’s clenching hole, and pushes in all at once. They both moan together, Sylvain gritting his teeth and hanging his head, eyes closed and reveling only in the sensation of Felix’s tight welcoming ass. He doesn’t even have to move; it’s so good, Felix’s body giving to his, his insides molding to the shape of Sylvain’s length, bending for the only person who can soften him.

“Move,” Felix hisses, pawing everywhere — Sylvain’s chest, his arms, his neck, pulling the red-haired man down for a searing kiss. Sylvain slides out, slow at first, then pushes back in, faster, spurred on by the grind of Felix’s hips.

When Sylvain begins to thrust in earnest, though, Felix releases his lips and his head goes slack. Sylvain fucks little gasps and whimpers out of him, little involuntary noises punctuated by the occasional broken moan. Despite all they’ve worked up to, Felix is still shy, and Sylvain can tell he’s holding back as much as he can. That won’t do.

“Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” Felix gasps, “I love it, I love when we fuck, I love when we train, when we fight together, side-by-side —“

Sylvain feels his heart thump-thump in his chest, a jackrabbit rhythm, and he captures Felix’s lips and doesn’t let him go. His thrusts stutter, Felix tightening around him whenever he stabs at his prostate, the warm pulsating channel making him groan into his lover’s throat.

When he has to break apart for air, Felix’s admission, his desperate edged-out voice, that has his heart bursting from its seams — “I love you, Sylvain, I love you!”

“I know,” Sylvain replies, voice strung out. He snakes a hand to Felix’s dick.

“I know, I know, I love you too — forever — stay with me, I love you —“

He feels Felix tighten around him as he cums, spurting streams of white across his own chest. Sylvain continues to thrust and Felix’s broken cries heighten in volume. It’s too much — too much, Felix overwhelmed in pleasure, oversensitive, but Sylvain keeps going until he feels nothing but his throbbing hard length spearing him, the only thing he can feel: Sylvain, always Sylvain, only Sylvain.

“P-please — no, it’s — please,” Felix has no idea what he’s begging for, but his flushed fucked-out face, lost entirely in pleasure, brings Sylvain over the edge.

He thrusts in one last time, groaning as he releases inside. Felix, who would normally complain and hit Sylvain for being so inconsiderate, simply twitches, eyes glazed, underneath him. Sylvain pants, holding onto the back of Felix’s knees. The sight of Felix’s puffy, abused hole clenching around his cum, as if instinctively trying to keep him in, does something awful to Sylvain.

“Did I break you?” Sylvain asks, maybe a bit meanly, flopping down on the mattress next to him. For a moment, he’s genuinely worried he did.

“Fuck off.” Felix says.

The bed’s not big enough for two fully grown men, but Sylvain rolls onto his side and pulls Felix’s back to his chest to hide his laugh in the crook of his neck.

“I meant it, you know.” Sylvain smiles and feels Felix tilt his head against his shoulder. “I’ll love you, forever. Even after this war.”

Maybe it’s the post-sex euphoria, but Felix actually seems relaxed. He doesn’t push Sylvain away for his words, at least. Instead, Sylvain knows, Felix shows his affection by leaning against his chest and letting their bodies warm together. In a few minutes he’ll push away like he always does, complaining for a bath, and in a few hours they’ll be marching in the fields again.

But right now, Felix lets Sylvain hold him. “I know.”