Sylvain is a damned tease.
Felix sees him out of the corner of his eye, resting on his couch in his apartment. Half-naked and displayed like some sort of prize to be won.
It's unfair, thinks Felix. He wishes that he looked so good at their age. And really, Felix isn't a slouch. He's still handsome and in shape, despite being a little past his prime. But Sylvain—
Well, he's just something else entirely. Still maintains rather sculpted muscles, despite the soft pudginess around his hips. A perfect chest, pecs full enough to grab at, dusted in soft hair that Felix can rake his fingers through.
Felix is too old to pop a boner at something so simple, so mundane. And yet.
Sylvain doesn't seem to notice the effect that he has. He lays there, his arm resting over the back of the couch, leg bent, one foot resting against the living room table. He watches the television, laughing occasionally.
Felix's mouth goes dry as he tries to brew coffee in the adjoining kitchen, sneaking looks that he hopes aren't obvious.
Ingrid's made fun of him as of late. Seems all the teasing about how the older you get, the hornier you are, is true, she said with a laugh the last time they shared dinner. Felix immediately smacked her shoulder, citing that it isn't. But it is, and Felix wants.
Felix wants so badly that he misses the french press entirely, dumping coffee grounds all over the counter.
When the coffee is finally set to brew, Felix moves to step around the couch. His hands find Sylvain's shoulders, resting against the meat of the muscle there, squeezing. Sylvain groans, his head dropping back.
"Ah," he murmurs. Felix knows the way his joints ache, and so he pushes at the muscle, digging his thumbs in gently, lovingly. Then a hand slips down to rest across his pec.
Sylvain turns his face to look at him with a dopey smile. "Didn't deserve that."
He does, but Felix wouldn't ever admit it. Instead, he dips down low and presses a kiss to the side of Sylvain's head. "Let me indulge."
"Oh? Indulge?"
Felix hums near his ear, his fingers sweeping over one of his nipples. "Your damned fault for not wearing a shirt." He rubs Sylvain's cheek with his own. "You haven't shaved."
"Too lazy," says Sylvain. "Same reason that I didn't bother to get dressed."
"Hm, a pity. An absolute nightmare."
They both know that it isn't. Felix's hand splays wide across Sylvain's chest, scratching through the hair there. And then the other follows, Felix draped across the back of Sylvain's shoulders. His fingers ghost over the soft ridges of Sylvain's front, and then sweep across his nipples again, and—
"Felix." It's a warning, but nothing unwelcome judging by the way that Sylvain's pants are suddenly tented.
Felix turns to press a kiss against his ear, smiling. "So easy," he says in a low hum.
"It's nothing to do with being easy and everything to do with— Hey."
Felix has long arms. He leans over, pressing his fingers into the soft muscle of Sylvain's stomach before tugging gently at the waistband of his trousers.
Sylvain reaches out to still his hand. "I'm begging you not to start something you aren't going to finish. I don't think my heart can handle it."
Felix scoffs; Sylvain's always pulling out the bad heart jokes, even though he's perfectly fine. Felix pulls away though, eliciting a whine from Sylvain when his hands leave. Then, Felix rounds the couch.
"Wha—"
Felix grabs a pillow from the couch and drops it to the floor. Then, he goes to his knees, his weight sinking into the cushion. "Idiot," he murmurs, reaching out to slide a hand along Sylvain's thigh. "As if I wouldn't finish this. I said that I wanted to indulge."
Sylvain spreads his legs eagerly and Felix slots in between them. His fingers dance along the thick cotton of Sylvain's sleep trousers before stopping at his groin.
"Oh, come on," breathes Sylvain, hips twitching in anticipation.
It's usually Sylvain who does the teasing. Felix is so rarely in a mood to take his time, preferring to be satisfied quickly rather than savoring it, but he has his moments. This is one of them. He presses his hand against the clothed bulge, squeezing, and Sylvain jerks under the touch.
"Goddess—"
"Patience," says Felix. But then he tugs Sylvain's waistband down, impatient himself. Sylvain chuckles at his response, his hands flying down to curl his fingers into Felix's short hair. Felix wraps a hand around his cock, surveying it with keen eyes. "Commando?"
"No point in wearing underwear when I'm home—" He chokes on his words when Felix leans forward to wrap his mouth around the tip. He collects spit there and lets it dribble around Sylvain's length, wetting it to ease the glide of his hand.
When he pulls away, Sylvain huffs. "Unfair."
"You'll take what I give you, otherwise I will stop."
Felix won't, not when he's already on his knees, cursing his creaking joints. And Sylvain knows that too, scratching at his scalp, fingers pulling slightly at his hair.
"Yes, yes," he murmurs, and Felix knows that he has him entirely at his mercy. Sylvain will inevitably crumble underneath his deft fingers and warm mouth.
Sylvain's cock is long and thick, filling his hand so well. Felix jerks him, enjoying the heft, smiling smugly when Sylvain immediately responds. Like jelly under his grasp, Sylvain practically melts into the couch, his head dropping back as he lets Felix have his way with him.
And Felix will. He shifts on his knees, leaning forward slightly to press a kiss to the side of Sylvain's cock. His hand moves with quick and efficient strokes. It's getting easier as time wears on. The more they do this, the more that Felix learns, and the easier he can pull him apart.
Half a year in and Felix still craves this man like he just saw him for the first time. Never happened before with his other, sparing, minor relationships, not that he's complaining. Felix never thought something so simple would be so impactful.
Felix licks across the crown of Sylvain's dick, his hand twisting around the base. His other hand cradles his balls, holding them gently, thumbing over where they meet the end of his cock.
Sylvain keens, bucking slightly into his mouth, squirming against the cushions of the couch. "Felix, Felix—"
Felix smirks around him, taking his cock deeper into his mouth. Sylvain's grip tightens in his hair as he helps guide his face. Felix isn't the best at this, lacking Sylvain's years of practice and precise knowledge.
But what he lacks in skill is made up for with enthusiasm— Felix loves the way that Sylvain's cock sits in his mouth, his mouth spread wide around it. How Sylvain tries his best to not fuck deeper into his throat, pulling at him to stave off that desperate want.
Sylvain makes the most addicting noises as Felix sucks down his length, soft trills, and deep little moans. Whispered curses that end with his name being called in fucked-out bliss. It's so easy when Sylvain reacts so well, lost in his pleasure as Felix bobs along his length.
The angle isn't the easiest. Felix's knees hurt even with the pillow, his neck is crooked at an awkward angle and his shoulders burn— but it's all worth it to see Sylvain come apart at the mere touch of his fingers and mouth.
"Oh, fuck." Sylvain's voice cracks as he presses into Felix's mouth, unable to keep still.
Felix pulls off his cock and moves a hand, dragging it down his front, his nails raising pink lines before grabbing on to the swell of Sylvain's hips and holding him down. "Keep still," he says, pressing a kiss to the side of Sylvain's cock. It twitches pathetically and Sylvain groans.
"That's impossible," he says, moving to cup Felix's cheeks in his hands. "Feels too good. So hot, so wet— and Goddess, the way that you look."
Felix preens at that, stroking Sylvain's cock once more. His own is heavy and hard in his trousers, leaking everywhere. He'll take care of it later— right now Sylvain is what he needs. "You're close," he says against Sylvain, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.
It isn't a question.
"Yes," murmurs Sylvain, "Yes."
Felix swallows him down again, intent on sucking him dry. His hand slides along the part that he can't reach with his mouth, squeezing at Sylvain's dick. Sylvain moans, guiding his head up and down, helping Felix set the pace. His legs stretch out, his thighs tense under the grip of Felix's other hand, and Felix just relishes the fact that he can so easily undo him.
"Felix, I'm— Oh, Goddess, I'm—" He comes suddenly, spilling into his mouth. Felix moans around him, swallowing it down, delighting in that beloved bitter-salty taste. It's so utterly Sylvain.
Sylvain looks at Felix through hazed eyes. His cheeks are pink and ruddy, and his chest heaves. He rubs a thumb across Felix's cheekbone once he pulls off. And then Sylvain's thumb sweeps across his bottom lip to wipe at some leftover spend.
"Come here."
Felix takes a moment to rise from his knees, wincing slightly as he does. He settles across Sylvain's lap, leaning into the couch and against him. Sylvain's hands find his hips and he pulls him closer.
"Fuck, I love you," says Sylvain quietly into Felix's neck.
He's said this before, but it's still a new thing. Felix's heart beats a little bit faster with every utterance. Mostly because he loves him back, and it's a sort of raw and unbridled thing. Perhaps that's what love is like when you're older— there's nothing left to lose, so no fucks are given. You just throw yourself entirely in, consequences be damned.
Felix kisses him instead of saying it back, and Sylvain eagerly responds. His mouth opens and Felix licks right into it, their tongues curling around each other as Sylvain moans into his mouth. Felix drinks it up, swallowing those breathy sounds like he's still a fucking teenager, craving any touch that he can manage. Sylvain's hands slip around to squeeze at his ass and—
"Let me take care of you," says Sylvain, pulling back long enough to whisper the words against his lips. He presses his knuckles against Felix's stomach, and then lower, ghosting over the edge of his tented cock.
Sylvain's eyes glint in a dangerous sort of way— like the very first night they met, Sylvain sending him drink after drink that Felix only dumped right out. Sylvain's a persistent man in both the best and worst of ways. Felix has come to love it.
He fingers the fine hairs at the nape of Sylvain's neck, soft and curling, auburn tendrils. His cock aches and he presses against Sylvain's hand. But Sylvain waits patiently.
"Insatiable," says Felix.
"For you? Always."
Felix's breath catches, as it often does when Sylvain says shit like that. And then he smiles. Felix kisses him again, lips lingering before he pulls away and off of Sylvain entirely. "I'm not fucking you on the couch," he says, looking back once he reaches the bedroom door.
Sylvain doesn't need to be told twice.