A/N: Prior knowledge of the rest of the series isn't really necessary, but you should still read them just because they're good.
Felix hates how utterly predictable he's become, pining for Sylvain literally every moment of his goddamned life.
Sylvain isn't even far away; he's just down the street taking a final. He'll be back later on after his test. Still. It isn't soon enough, not for a man who feels so heavily burdened by want. It's like Felix is in a constant state of need, like he has to get his hands on Sylvain whenever he can.
His dreams have, truly, suffered.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," said Annette to him when he complained a few days back.
Fuck that nonsense, thought Felix, which is probably why he's always the first to cave when they get busy like this. It turns out that Sylvain has surprising restraint when it comes down to it.
Felix has a key to Sylvain's dorm. Uses it way more than he'd like to admit, sneaking in and under the covers to nap until Sylvain shows up tired and sleepy enough to join him. Those days are nice, the best, really. Lazy ones where all they do is cuddle with wandering hands and watch Netflix on Sylvain's ancient television, the one where one-third of the LEDs are burnt out.
It hangs crookedly on the wall because Sylvain's useless at being a handyman.
Felix sighs as he shucks off his jeans and falls into the mattress, a twin size that's too small for the both of them. It kind of makes Felix love it more, not that he'd ever admit to it. There's a lot that he refuses to publicly acknowledge, like how Sylvain's entirely rebranded him inside and out, practically forged him anew.
Annette says that Felix has been kinder as of late, which he hates on principle. "Softer," she'd said to him awhile back. "It's nice, Felix. Seeing you happy."
And he is happy, a strange little wonder that Felix never thought he'd experience again. He'd come to University to fence, get away from his father, and forget about his brother. He'd found something else entirely.
No complaints. Never, complaints. As dumb as Sylvain can be for someone so smart, Felix wouldn't trade him for the world, because if he did, then Felix's world would be gone.
"Ugh," he murmurs, settling against Sylvain's pillow, hating how simple he gets when it comes to just the thought of the man. His heart all soft and all mushy, the tell-tale lump that forms in his throat. This is why Felix never went looking for love; love turns people into dumb hormonal messes who can barely function. Like right now.
In the end, Felix loves it. How he gets lost in Sylvain, physically and emotionally, the way they can be so utterly connected through something as simple as feelings and want. And touch.
The bed smells like Sylvain and it calms Felix, lulls him into a soft moment of peace and relaxation. Felix hasn't had much lately, with finals and tournaments. He and Sylvain spend what time they can together but-
Well, there's a reason he's snuck into Sylvain's dorm and bedsheets. Felix fucking misses him. Misses Sylvain's dumb puns and ill-timed innuendo. The way that his fingers comb through his hair and scratch at his scalp when they lay like bumps on a log in the sheets, watching reruns of Masterchef.
Felix sighs in dreamlike bliss, having softened around the edges as he sinks into the mattress.
And then he sees the shirt.
It's an unassuming thing, a simple long-sleeved button-down, crumpled up and tossed to the corner. Sylvain wore it the other day for a formal function and then likely threw it aside, forgetting all about it.
Felix reaches out and pulls it closer, pressing his face into the soft cotton fabric. It's lightly worn and rumpled. Smells like Sylvain, and the ridiculous pine and sandalwood soap he uses. Felix can get lost in it, eyes slipping closed as he breathes in.
He's a fool for how he pines, but a welcome fool, he supposes. There are far worse things to be addicted to, like training until his hamstrings fall off. This is a far better alternative.
Felix sits up for a moment to pull his shirt off. Then he pulls Sylvain's on. He's swimming in it, the sleeve cuffs falling past his fingertips and the hemline near his thighs. Surrounded by Sylvain's scent, practically drowning in it.
It has an immediate effect, Felix's cock twitching with interest. He can't find it within himself to be annoyed; he's far too antsy and it's been several days since they've seen each other proper.
Felix is practically starving. So, he lays back into the mattress, settling into the blanket, and thinks of Sylvain.
This shirt is a good cut that hugs Sylvain's form nicely. Felix remembers well- he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of him. Some dumb function for something aerospace-related. Sylvain had to go for department appearances, being the premier student on their scholarship.
And Felix had gone as his date. Spent the entire night watching him and the way that the shirt stretched tightly over Sylvain's chest. His damn pecs, and how Sylvain always leaves the top few buttons undone to show off his collarbone.
Felix's weakness, truly. The swell of muscle and the dusting of chest hair. How he likes to sweep his hand across the smooth and defined ridges of Sylvain's front. His hand slips down and between his legs, squeezing at his clothed cock.
He should've taken off his briefs earlier, should've slid into Sylvain's bed butt-naked as a nice surprise but-
Well, Felix hadn't thought that far.
Too late now, thinks Felix, his fingers ghosting along the tented edge of his dick. He sweeps his hand along his length, groaning softly. He shouldn't do this. Sylvain will be home before he knows it, tired and wasted from his finals.
He thinks about waiting for Sylvain instead for about a moment. Forgets the idea nearly immediately because he's too horny, and the shirt just smells too damn good.
Felix can make it work if he tries his damndest. He can be a fairly quick shot when he's hot and bothered enough, much to his embarrassment. But, he's got a short refractory period, something that haunts Felix's dirtiest dreams. And Sylvain's dreams too, if his complaints were to be believed.
So, the plan is simple: jerk himself off in record time, and then have a second go when Sylvain comes home. Sylvain's a simple enough man; he finds Felix irresistible when he's up to his neck in fencing gear. Half-naked in his bed and wearing his shirt will probably murder him.
It's an idea that spurs Felix on, the way that Sylvain looks at him when Felix is in his bed, eyes half-lidded as he bites at his lip. There are few things better in the world. Like Sylvain's mouth wrapped around his cock instead.
"Later," murmurs Felix, hooking his thumbs into his briefs and yanking them down. He leaves them hooked around an ankle, too impatient to properly kick them off.
The air in the room is cool, but his hand is hot around his cock, his fingers calloused. He's gotten used to the way that Sylvain touches him with his smooth and devout touch. How Sylvain whispers dirty things into his ear before biting at the soft skin of it.
Felix's dick is already leaking pathetically, dribbling precome across his palm. Felix shoves his face into the collar of Sylvain's shirt, whining into the cotton.
It isn't enough. Never is. No amount of practiced strokes along his length can hold a candle to the way Sylvain touches him. Or the way that Felix imagines he's there, pressed against his back, Sylvain rutting his cock between his thighs.
"Pathetic," says Felix as he lets go of his cock and rummages around the bed. Sylvain's dorm has a plethora of lube stashed around- it takes seconds to find a half-empty bottle that will suffice.
Felix slicks up his fingers, looking at them severely. "Goddess, this is really what I've become," he sighs, mildly annoyed by his inability to maintain a calm composure. It used to be so easy. Felix turns over before he can stop himself, pressing his chest into the soft covers of Sylvain's bed. Hikes up the shirt to his waist before reaching behind him and-
Sylvain walks into his dorm room, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. Doesn't see Felix as he drops his bag to the ground. Sylvain runs a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp before turning to his bed.
And then he sees Felix who's prostrated on all fours, fingers slick with lube, just pressed against his hole.
"This isn't what it looks like," says Felix, voice slightly muffled from where his head's turned to the side.
Sylvain's mouth falls open as he stares. Then he regains his composure, crossing the room to kneel on the edge of the mattress. "It better be what it looks like," he says, smoothing a hand over the soft curve of Felix's asscheek.
Felix groans, burying his face into the blanket. He's embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed, but it's hard to think about it with Sylvain thumbing gently over the dip of his back, massaging the skin there.
He moves to pull his hand away, but Sylvain grabs his wrist and holds it there. "Don't stop on my account," he says.
Felix gawks, he can't help it. "What?"
Sylvain looks back at him, his face endearing, but there's an undercurrent of want there in the way that his eyes sparkle back, and how he licks his lips before answering. "You're in my bed, Felix, touching yourself. And-" he pauses, pulling at the cotton of the oversized shirt wrapped around Felix's frame. "Is this my shirt?"
"Yes, you idiot," says Felix. "It certainly wasn't the plan, I assure you. I only wanted a nap."
Sylvain hums at that. "And what, you saw this and put it on? Thought of me and couldn't stop yourself?"
Felix can't refute it and feels the way that his cheeks turn pink.
"I want to watch," says Sylvain, letting go of Felix's wrist and turning his attention back to his ass. He squeezes at the taut muscle there before pulling apart Felix's cheeks to look. "Want to see what you do when you're thinking of me."
Felix's breath hitches at Sylvain's tone; his voice is low and the words are fevered. Sylvain looks at him like a man ravenous. Because they both are, effectively. Touch-starved and nearly dying, bad enough for Felix to actually try and masturbate in Sylvain's room.
But, two can play that game.
"Only if you do the same," says Felix coolly, turning slightly to see Sylvain better. The angle is terrible and it hurts his back, but it's worth it, to see Sylvain swallow around the lump in his throat. "Sit back in that chair and jerk yourself off to the sight of me."
"Felix-"
"It's only fair, I think," says Felix. He pulls his hand back again to slick it up once more because the lube's gone dry and tacky.
Sylvain doesn't even hesitate. He leans forward to press a kiss against Felix's asscheek, gets off the bed to drop his trousers, and then settles into the tiny computer chair. Sylvain rolls it into a better position, one where Felix can see him properly and he can still watch the show.
Felix's gaze drops straight to Sylvain's briefs. Watches the way that Sylvain casually squeezes his half-hard cock through the fabric.
It isn't so much that he's embarrassed to touch himself in front of Sylvain- Goddess knows he's done that enough. Impatient when it comes to figuring out what he likes in bed, eager to show Sylvain so he can wreck him thoroughly. Sylvain learns quickly when he's shown exactly what to do.
It's the idea that he was caught doing it alone that's so awkward, that Sylvain walked in on him nearly fingers deep in his ass. Felix huffs slightly at the thought, as he circles his hole with a finger, spreading the lube around.
Too late to go back now. He's already bargained with Sylvain, struck a deal that's sure to please them both at least, turning a troublesome situation around. Hopefully.
And really, Sylvain looks so good, tucked into his chair, hand resting gently over the swell of his cock where it tents his briefs. Felix licks his lips and presses a finger into himself, sighing softly at the gentle sting.
He's gotten used to it, enjoys it even. He'd enjoy it more were it Sylvain, of course. His fingers are smoother, larger, and longer. He can reach places that Felix can only dream of. And then, of course, there's Sylvain's cock. Pristine perfection, already hard and heavy at the mere sight of him.
Sometimes Felix wonders what he did in a past life to warrant such perfection in this age. The idea that he can call Sylvain his own, that he's been blessed with someone that should be so far out of his reach. And the idea that Sylvain wants for him so deeply-
Well, he's still getting used to it.
The stroke of his finger is a simple back-and-forth thing as he pulls at his rim gently, just enough to moan quietly. Sylvain watches, clutching the tip of his cock through his briefs as his other hand digs into the skin of his thigh.
Felix huffs at that. "You aren't naked enough," he says, a common complaint in their bedroom.
"Okay, okay," says Sylvain with a soft chuckle. He raises his hips just enough to slide his smalls right off. Then his hand finds his dick proper, stroking it to full hardness.
Felix's mouth goes dry at the sight, watching as Sylvain smoothes precome across the tip with his thumb. Then Sylvain decides it isn't enough and spits into his hand instead to stroke at his cock lazily.
Sylvain's cock needs to be in him sooner than later, thinks Felix as he pulls out his finger to press back in with two. It's a tighter fit, his hole squeezing around them, but Felix works as methodically as he can.
Harder to do so than he'd initially thought because watching Sylvain touch himself is proving to be very distracting. Listening to Sylvain's soft little moans as his gaze remains wholly trained on Felix and his ass, his eyes half-lidded as he bites at his lip.
"Dammit," murmurs Felix, sighing into the blanket. Sylvain's gaze, the soft cotton of his shirt against Felix's skin and how the hem settles around his waist, being surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and pine in his bed- Felix fucks into himself faster, spreading his fingers to stretch his hole wider.
A liquid moan bubbles up from his throat as his fingers brush his prostate, the touch electric as his sparks through his veins.
Sylvain notices, his mouth spreading wide into a smile. "Is it good?" he asks simply, his voice like honeyed wine. "Is that the right spot?"
"Fuck you," says Felix, but it dissolves into a pitiful sound as his fingers press back in, hitting the same spot. "Goddess-"
Sylvain moves, the insufferable bastard that he is. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels on the corner of it, his hands immediately grabbing at Felix's ass. Spreads Felix wide for a better look, and Felix's hand stops.
"No," says Sylvain, "don't stop."
"Sylvain-"
"Look at you." Sylvain smoothes at the skin there, his thumb near where Felix's fingers are knuckles deep in his own ass. "God, just the sight of you like this, it's enough to end me. Show me more."
That's a new request. Usually, this kind of thing is only to show Sylvain what Felix wants and exactly how to give it to him. Sylvain's often impatient as well, taking over when he can't help it anymore. It's what Felix expected this time around.
But this time, Sylvain shows no hint of hurry, sitting back as he just watches. His cock's been left abandoned, hard and aching against his thigh, but he shows no sign of touching it. For now.
Felix gives in, scissoring his fingers wide to spread his hole. In and out as he presses them deeply. "The lube," says Felix breathlessly. Sylvain grabs it to dribble more onto his ass. Uses his thumb to spread it around, sweeping the touch around Felix's fingers and then down to the smooth expanse of skin above his balls to massage there.
"Shit." Felix wants more, despite already being slightly overwhelmed. Pulls his fingers out to slick them back up in a fresh layer of the lube. Presses in one finger, then a second, and then a third, something that Sylvain's never seen him do because Felix has never been that desperate.
In front of Sylvain, at least. Alone in his bed? Sure. But, here and now, Felix can't help it, spurred on by Sylvain's soft words whispered against him, and the soft touch of his hands. One pulling at Felix's asscheek to stare, the other cradling his balls gently.
"Goddess," curses Sylvain, watching Felix as he thrusts his fingers in and out of himself, relishing in the delicious stretch of his hole. "You-"
Sylvain doesn't finish his sentence, the hand that'd been holding Felix's sac dropping to grip at his cock instead. It's hard and leaking, nearly purple at the tip because it's been left alone for too long. Felix nearly wrenches his neck to watch as Sylvain strokes his dick, his shoulder burning with the strain of fucking himself on his fingers.
"This is what it's like," says Felix, "when I'm alone and lonely, trying to remember what your cock feels like. Tucked into your shirt, hot and bothered, fucking myself on my fingers like they might be enough."
They never are.
Sylvain moves then, kneeling on the bed properly behind Felix. Grabs him by the ass as Felix removes his fingers. He immediately regrets the loss, but not the look on Sylvain's face, the way that his throat bobs as his mouth falls open.
He thumbs at Felix's rim. "For fuck's sake, Felix," he murmurs, slipping his thumb in as if to test Felix's handiwork. Felix presses back against his hand, making his need as apparent as possible without outright begging.
Not that he's above it.
Sylvain takes pity on him though, lining up his cock quickly and without requesting anything in return. "You ready?" asks Sylvain, smoothing a hand across the small of Felix's back, rucking up the shirt he wears.
"Yesterday," says Felix, raising his hips slightly. "Last fucking week."
There's nothing quite like Sylvain's cock, thick and heavy as it slides home. Blazingly hot as it fills Felix to the brim. Felix keens, his voice muffled by the sheets as his back arches. Sylvain's careful as he presses in, despite the preparation. Always reverent in the way that he touches Felix; the way that he holds him gently, the slow glide of his cock as he lets Felix adjust.
It's too kind most of the time, offset by the way that Sylvain moans when he's settled deep in Felix's ass, thighs trembling with strain. "Fuck," murmurs Sylvain as he leans over, pressing his forehead against the nape of Felix's neck. He presses a kiss there as he tries to ground himself.
Felix has other plans, of course. "Too slow," he says, lifting his hips to grind back against him. It's been too long and he's too horny for Sylvain to be so loving in a moment like this. Later, thinks Felix. Later, when they're laying in bed, blissed out by the afterglow in their lovemaking; that's when Sylvain can be as tender as he wants.
And maybe Felix will be too.
Sylvain lets out a punched groan, his fingers tightening around Felix's hips, nails digging into the skin there. Sylvain might leave little bruises, soft imprints of his worship. Felix doesn't hate the idea.
"Felix," warns Sylvain, his voice a little bit tinny, pitched high. "I definitely won't last if you do that."
"Don't care," says Felix, rolling his hips forwards and then snapping them back. He's on all fours, chest pressed to the bed so it isn't the easiest, but he makes it work. Felix can feel the way that Sylvain's dick twitches inside of him, responding eagerly to his efforts.
Sylvain gets the hint. Leans back slightly as he anchors his hold on Felix's waist before pulling out and thrusting right back in. Hits the perfect spot with practiced ease, and Felix sees stars, moaning into the covers.
They set a steady rhythm; Sylvain fucks into him with moderate thrusts that pack power, and Felix grinds back against him, eager to get as much fiction as possible. The angle is perfect. Felix watches Sylvain from where his head's turned to the side in the sheets; watches as Sylvain stares at how his cock slips in and out of him effortlessly.
The pressure coils deep in Felix's gut. One hand tightens against the bedsheets as the other tightens in the collar of Sylvain's shirt. Felix brings it closer to his face, pressing it near his nose to breathe in the scent of Sylvian's soap. Almost perfection. Divine, really. Makes Felix think there might actually be a higher power.
"Goddess, I've missed this," says Sylvain, "How you're so perfect for me." Polished words of praise that compliment the way that Sylvain fucks into him.
Felix whimpers slightly at them, at the way that Sylvain's cock fills him so well, over and over again. Sweat-slicked skin, Sylvain's hands on his ass as he spreads his cheeks wide to look, the way he thumbs around where they're connected- it's nearly too much.
And still not enough.
Felix licks his hand and grabs at his cock. Jerks it roughly enough in a way that makes him clench tightly around Sylvain. The resulting moan is the stuff of dreams, the kind of thing that Felix imagines when he tips over the edge.
Sylvain does first. He fucks into Felix with deep, punctuated strokes right into the perfect spot, and the moment that Felix tightens as he touches himself, Sylvain comes. Fills him up, his hips flesh with Felix's ass, his cock as pressed deep as it can go.
"Sylvain," says Felix in a terse and frustrated whisper, moaning as he strokes himself furiously. The heat in his gut coils tighter and tighter, but he's just not there yet. Close, so close, but-
Another hand joins his own, warm and wide as Sylvain bats Felix's hand away. Sylvain leans forward, mouth near Felix's ear. "Come on, darling," says Sylvain, his voice low and lost to passion. His hand slides over Felix's cock perfectly, palming over the tip.
Felix fucks into the grip, hips moving as he tries to get more. Sylvain chuckles against his neck before biting at the skin there softly. "You're close," he says. "I can feel it, the way you're so tight around me."
Of all the times for dirty talk. But it's working. Sylvain lavishes praise in the form of words and the way that his hand is wrapped tightly around Felix's length. He can lose himself in how Sylvain sounds so debauched, at how badly he wants Felix to come.
Still, Felix has a front to uphold. "Idiot," he says, but it comes out more like a cursed cry, his voice keening right as Sylvain slides his cock out of his ass and slips two fingers back in instead. "Oh, oh- Fuck-"
Sylvain's so good with his fingers and the way that he fucks Felix with them. How he's draped across his back, one hand on Felix's cock and the other knuckles deep in his ass. "You took three earlier," whispers Sylvain against his skin. "Think you can do it again?"
Three fingers aren't nearly as big as Sylvain's cock, but the idea of it is no less dirty, and Felix clamps tight at the thought. Sylvain slides a third finger into him, the way eased by his come. It's salacious in the most carnal of ways, thinks Felix, and he can't help the way that he ruts against Sylvain's touch desperately.
He comes right after that, lost entirely to the feel of it, face red and ruddy, and slightly tear-stained as he presses it into the sheets. He lets out a string of curses when that tight coil of pleasure snaps, and Sylvain soothes him through his orgasm by praising him right through it.
Felix is left loose-legged and boneless in the aftermath. "I'm not moving," he says, surrendering to the mattress. He's hot and sweaty, entirely fucked out, and the shirt's nearly too hot. Felix doesn't give a shit. Sylvain cleans him up without complaint and then settles into the tiny twin bed beside him.
They rearrange themselves the best they can in the cramped space. Sylvain never even took his shirt off, the fabric soft underneath Felix's cheek. He sighs content, sinking into the feel of what he's really missed- Sylvain by his side.
"What was that all about?" asks Sylvain, combing through Felix's matted hair.
"Must it be about something?"
Sylvain pauses, no doubt trying to find a delicate way to say whatever he's about it. "I don't normally come home to find you masturbating in my bed."
Felix scowls. "It wasn't- it wasn't about something." Felix lets loose a long breath. "I just… I missed you. And you were right, you insufferable asshole. I saw your shirt and put it on, and it only made it worse."
Sylvain laughs, a deep rumble spreading underneath Felix's ear. It lulls him slightly as sleep slowly tugs at him.
"I honestly, only meant to take a nap," says Felix quietly. "I was planning on fucking you later."
A soft kiss is pressed against Felix's forehead, Sylvain's lips lingering. "I love you," he says. "Nearly as much as I love you wearing my clothing. That's what did it for me, you know. The sight of you hot and bothered in my shirt."
Felix grunts at that, not even bothering with a response. Sylvain's mostly joking, of course. Felix finds that he doesn't care. Instead, he just takes comfort in the fact that he's been utterly smothered by the presence of Sylvain.
Perfect way to end the night, really.
