Sylvain's so handsome like this, spread out underneath Felix, sighing deeply into the night as he grasps onto him with wild abandon.
It isn't a rare sight. It's been seared into Felix's mind over and over through the years but it never gets old, it never means less. Every time is worth just as much as the one before.
"You look ridiculous," says Felix instead of waxing poetically. He has an acerbic personality to portray even if he's softened over their years together. And Sylvain does, his hair curling wildly about his head, shots of gray sparkling in the low candlelight. It knots so easily. All he has to do is drop his head onto the pillow and it takes a half-hour to comb out in the morning.
Sylvain huffs. "Like you can talk. Have you seen the rat's nest you're sporting?"
Felix doesn't need to look to know he's a mess. His hair is a travesty; he washes it with harsh soaps, brushes it out rudimentarily, and then ties it into a knot when it's still wet. He's old enough to not care much anymore.
"It's not as though I have to impress anyone."
Sylvain hums at that, hands sliding down Felix's sides, thumbs playing with the skin there. The contact relaxes Felix as he sinks into it. "I suppose that I don't count, then."
"I don't have to impress you," says Felix. He's teasing, mostly. Felix could be wearing a potato sack and Sylvain would still find him the most handsome man in the world. And he'd brag about it publicly, sing it from the rooftops.
Sylvain doesn't sing well.
"Should I stop trying then?" Sylvain's only musing, he doesn't mean anything by it. But Felix pauses above him, looking down, a hand pressed against Sylvain's chest. Thinking. His fingers scrub through Sylvain's chest hair, scratching at his skin lightly, relishing in the downy feel of it.
Felix loves him and all his aged faults. From the soft laugh lines around his mouth to the crow's feet around his eyes. Time has been kind to them in some ways, terrible in others, but Sylvain deserves this small pocket of peace that they've stumbled their way into. And managed to somehow keep.
"You've always preened for only yourself," says Felix.
Sylvain smiles, wide and easy, and his hands slip further south. His fingers dig into Felix's ass, pulling him closer. Sylvain's already half-hard against him, something that causes Felix's mouth to curve into a dangerous little smile.
He drags his hand down in response, fingers dancing along Sylvain's cock teasingly. "What's this?"
"Don't act surprised," says Sylvain.
"We've already done this once tonight," says Felix. Earlier, before they'd fallen asleep. Felix on his hands and knees as Sylvain pounded him into their bed. Felix can still feel the satisfied ache of it even hours later.
Sylvain laughs. "Is once enough?"
Never, thinks Felix. They're married and utterly in love, and have been for decades. Sylvain will share a bed with him for decades to come and it'll never be enough. Felix doesn't tell him this, though, so rarely vocal about his sentimentality. Instead, he reaches down to curl his fingers around Sylvain's cock, feeling it fill out within his grasp.
Actions speak louder than words.
Sylvain moans softly, cheeks tinting pink as Felix slides his hand along his length with practiced ease.
"Aren't you-"
"Quiet," says Felix as he lets go, pressing his hips forward instead to grind their cocks together. Earlier they fell asleep unclothed. Sylvain's naked skin is already painted with a healthy flush, and Felix eats up the sight as he drags a hand down his chest.
Felix wants to indulge.
"Slowly," says Sylvain. "Let's take our time."
Felix doesn't want to take his time, he wants to devour Sylvain right then and there. So he does, leaning forward to latch his mouth against Sylvain's neck, sucking on the tender skin there. Sylvain responds immediately, arching into the touch, fingers digging into the meat of Felix's ass where he holds him.
It's always so delicious, the way that he reacts. The way that he falls into their shared pleasure. Sylvain has always been handsome, even more so now that he's older and more distinguished, but this is when he looks his most beautiful. Underneath Felix's biting kisses, and scarred and calloused fingers as they work him to the edge.
Felix runs one hand across Sylvain's chest, thumbing at a nipple and the other goes south, scratching through the trail of hair just below his belly button. Sylvain grasps him by the wrist, holding it there and Felix pauses, pulling back slightly. Sylvain smiles at him lazily as one hand rises to cup his cheek.
Then Felix is thrown to the side, effortlessly rolled onto his back. He doesn't put up a fight, settling into the pillow as Sylvain looms over him, mouth twisted into an annoyed little frown.
"Slowly," repeats Sylvain, leaning forward to press a kiss to Felix's forehead. A gentle murmur against his skin, a soft request.
"I suppose that I can allow that," says Felix.
Sylvain laughs, pressing another kiss to his ear. Then to the juncture at his neck. Sylvain's hand finds his chin as he tips it upward and claims his lips in a slow, thorough kiss. Felix raises a hand to Sylvain's hair, curling his fingers into tangled tresses. He opens his mouth in a plea to deepen the kiss. Sylvain responds eagerly, tongue slipping into his mouth.
Felix has a lot of love for moments like this, these lazy and indulgent things. Teasing each other as they bask in pleasure together, limbs so tangled that they can't tell where they even begin. When they were young and at war, they never had time for this, to cultivate that fire that burns between them.
It was always fast and hurried and to a point. Dirty and sweaty, wherever you could get it. In a dingy tent on the field. Behind a tavern in a dusky alley. Never in a soft bed, surrounded by comfort.
Never a long enough pause to just relish the moment.
Sylvain takes his sweet time, nibbling at Felix's lips. Sylvain's hand slips down and across his chest, thumb circling around a nipple. He presses it flat against the nub as it stiffens under his touch. Then Sylvain's hand shifts down further to wrap around Felix's cock, holding him in a tight grip, coaxing him to full hardness.
Felix huffs a laugh. "I thought you said slowly," he teases. This seems to be the exact opposite but he isn't complaining. Felix has never been a patient one.
Sylvain licks a stripe up Felix's neck, laughing against his skin in return. "This is slow," says Sylvain, tugging at Felix's length with a leisurely pace. Infuriating. "I know you, Felix. This is just enough to make you squirm."
Felix wants to kick him, roll him back over and slide onto him in one go, just to stick it to him. That idea is lost the moment Sylvain moves down towards the foot of the bed, pressing a kiss just below his belly button. Then at the juncture of his thigh and hip.
At the base of his cock. Sylvain has Felix's length in hand, staring at it like it's his next meal. It's Felix's turn to feel the burn of the heated blush that takes over his cheeks. Then, Sylvain swallows him down with little ceremony, lips stretched tight around his cock as he takes him in.
Felix's head snaps back into the pillow and he punches out a moan, unable to cut himself off.
Sylvain's mouth is hot and wet around him. He tongues expertly around the crown of his cock, hand working alongside to cover the rest of him. It's a leisurely pace, more of a gentle sucking than a frenzied blowjob, but it's enough to make Felix's toes curl nonetheless.
His husband is just too damn good at this.
Felix's hand finds those unruly, salt and auburn curls, fingers tightening against them. Pulling just slightly, scratching at his scalp. Trying to ground himself as he tries not to buck deeper into Sylvain's mouth.
It's agonizing, the languid and unhurried way that Sylvain drags his mouth along Felix's cock. Licking around him carefully before sucking him right back down, inching down just a little bit further with each press.
Sylvain can take most of his length, he's done it plenty of times before, but he seems to have no plans to do so this time. Instead, Sylvain's fingers slip into the cleft of his ass, teasing at his rim. It's already loosened, already so pliant, already waiting for more. Sylvain presses the tip of his finger in ever so slightly.
Felix heaves a sigh, pressing against his hand, forcing the finger deeper.
Sylvain pulls off. "Felix," he warns. But makes no move to pull away.
Felix can't bring himself to beg, but he gives Sylvain a pleading look before bucking against his grasp. Sylvain smiles crookedly at him, huffing a laugh.
"Alright," he says, pulling out and away. Sylvain shuffles around slightly and when he finds Felix's hole again, it's with two slick fingers, carefully coated in oil. It's unneeded but Sylvain's the kind to take care, even when Felix wants anything but.
Still, Felix delights in the burn of his fingers as they slip in again, gingerly scissoring at his entrance. Felix wiggles his ass against Sylvain's hand, trying to meet his movements. Ever so impatient even when Sylvain wants to take it slow.
Sylvain's mouth finds his cock again, harder than it was before. Pink at the tip and leaking precome. Sylvain laps at it, tongue swirling around the head of his cock before swallowing it right back down.
It's near too much; the soft warmth of Sylvain's mouth as he sucks at him, the stinging drag of his fingers in his ass. Well memorized motions of a man who knows the exact way to bring him to the edge quickly and efficiently.
They're predictable, the both of them.
"Off," murmurs Felix, tugging at Sylvain's hair. "I said off."
"Felix," says Sylvain, his breath puffing against the skin of his groin, pressing a tender kiss there. "Are you-"
"Inside," cuts in Felix. "I need you-" He groans as Sylvain pulls his fingers from him.
"Impatient."
"Yes," agrees Felix. Then he wiggles his hips again. If Sylvain doesn't do something soon he's going to find himself hung out to dry while Felix takes care of himself in the washroom. He's had enough teasing for the night.
Sylvain slicks his cock quickly in whatever oil he's got stashed under the pillow. He teases Felix's entrance with the head of his cock, making him wait. He's insufferable even now of all times.
"Goddess, you're infuriating," says Felix.
"But you love it," says Sylvain cheekily, pressing in closer. His face hangs just over Felix's, waiting for a kiss. Felix gives it to him, nipping at his mouth playfully, telling him to get the show on the road.
But yes, he does it, he loves everything about Sylvain. His dumbass expressions, his shitty jokes. The way that he teases and tortures Felix for fun. Even on the tougher nights when the memories are alive; when he has the night sweats and terrors, or when he lays awake forever instead to avoid them.
Felix and Sylvain are two sides of a coin, utterly inseparable and always one of the same.
Sylvain finally presses in, easily, and Felix keens at the feel of it. It's home and comfort. They belong like this, Sylvain buried in him to the hilt. Shaking and shuddering as he slides out and then back in. Fingers digging into the meat of Felix's thighs, overcome with the feel of it.
Felix is so full and it's perfect, better than the hard and rough fuck they'd enjoyed earlier. He'd never admit to it aloud, but Sylvain knows. He knows that he prefers it like this, soft and loving, taking their time.
"Goddess, Fe," Sylvain mumbles against the skin of his neck, heavy breaths tumbling from his mouth. "You always feel so perfect around me."
"Isn't enough," says Felix, contrary to the bitter end.
Sylvain presses a kiss against his jaw, and then another, tongue snaking out to trace along the bone. Felix moans, a soft breathy thing, fingers finding Sylvain's hair again. He tugs, a reminder that he wants, needs more. Sylvain hikes Felix's thighs up, changing the angle, slipping in what feels like deeper.
It's the perfect spot, the one that has Felix arching into his touch, toes curling into the sheets. The coil in his gut burns brighter as Sylvain fucks into him with more force and perfect precision.
"Fuck," murmurs Sylvain into Felix's ear, losing himself in a crass little moment.
"So good for me," says Felix, a hand settling against Sylvain's neck, guiding his mouth back to his once more. When they kiss this time, it's messy and unhinged, teeth clacking against each other as Felix jolts with every thrust.
Sylvain's cock feels so good, fills him up so perfectly. Felix will never get enough of this feeling, of this sensation. Overcome by mounting pleasure as his husband takes him so thoroughly.
It takes a lot for Felix to give in, but for this moment, he's utterly lost.
Sylvain tips over the edge first, hips stuttering as he comes deep. Heavy breaths against Felix's neck as he languidly kisses the skin there, hand reaching for Felix's cock. He works him steadily, his hand warm around his length as he squeezes tight.
Felix bites at his lip, slightly overwhelmed. The slide of Sylvain's hand along the heated skin of his cock, the way that he grinds into him despite his softening cock. The knowledge that he's been claimed again. Sylvain whispers soft words near his ear, coaxing him to the edge and Felix grows closer and closer, the fire in his gut nearing a fever pitch.
When he comes it's loud, fingers yanking tightly at Sylvain's hair as his cock jerks in his grasp. Felix makes a mess of himself, come slick against his belly. But he's satiated and boneless, melting into the mattress.
Sylvain laughs against his hair, pressing a quick kiss against it. "What was all that about?" he asks after a moment of catching his breath.
Felix doesn't answer immediately. Sylvain watches him for a beat and then pulls himself out gingerly. Before he can leave the bed for a rag, Felix reaches out to grab his arm.
"It's fine," says Felix quietly.
Sylvain smiles that crooked smile of his and settles back beside him. Felix turns, tucking into his side, face resting nearly Sylvain's collarbone. "I was just thinking," he says finally.
"I woke up to you staring."
"Thinking," repeats Felix. About a lot of things. Their past, their future, the war, and now peace. But mostly- "About how ridiculous you looked. Did you even brush out your hair?"
Sylvain laughs fully this time, a deep and rumbling thing. Then, his hand finds Felix's hair, tugging out the tie that holds it together. Fingers glide through his locks, pulling at the knots. "You're even worse," he says."
"Yeah," says Felix. They both know this conversation isn't about their hair anymore.
Felix is bone-tired, but they're both weary in their old age. Antiquated. Still, it's a life that they never thought would be offered. Felix is determined to enjoy it for as long as he can.
"I love you," says Sylvain into his hair.
Felix replies with a kiss.