[He remarks in reply, passive and not entirely moved by the fact - he could just so easily cancel it, it's true. He could steal more time away with Sylvie - he could steal Sylvie away - empty out his bank accounts, or take a sabbatical and move somewhere else just to spend time with him. All of it runs through his head as a possibility as he follows instruction, bowing down his head to mouth over the soft stretch of skin across Sylvain's chest. He pinches his teeth to it, drawing a circle around his nipple with his tongue before moving up toward his collarbone to start leaving a strawberry pink mark.
Elope, play house, the options will fork off in a choice they'll have to make when they leave this room. Emmet has always had a penchant for forcing himself to take the more respectable option, but Sylvie can entice him into anything. And there's not one shred of his own honor he wouldn't throw to the dirt for Sylvie to walk on if given the need. He'd die for him - and has, many, many times. Maybe it'll happen again in this life. Who knows.]
They'll know that you're mine.
[He says with a hum, words sitting on his tongue thick like honey. Emmet likes telling Sylvain that he belongs to him just like Sylvie belongs to him, they are each other's to have - they belong to each other without falter. There's not another person in existence, this world or elsewhere, that could replace Sylvie. Not another person who could come close to comparing. He bites gently to the skin beneath his lips, moving ever so slightly to leave a trail of gradually darkening lovebites between bouts of teasing his tongue over his chest, lavishing it around Sylvie's nipple and moving slowly but surely south down his abdomen.]
no subject
[He remarks in reply, passive and not entirely moved by the fact - he could just so easily cancel it, it's true. He could steal more time away with Sylvie - he could steal Sylvie away - empty out his bank accounts, or take a sabbatical and move somewhere else just to spend time with him. All of it runs through his head as a possibility as he follows instruction, bowing down his head to mouth over the soft stretch of skin across Sylvain's chest. He pinches his teeth to it, drawing a circle around his nipple with his tongue before moving up toward his collarbone to start leaving a strawberry pink mark.
Elope, play house, the options will fork off in a choice they'll have to make when they leave this room. Emmet has always had a penchant for forcing himself to take the more respectable option, but Sylvie can entice him into anything. And there's not one shred of his own honor he wouldn't throw to the dirt for Sylvie to walk on if given the need. He'd die for him - and has, many, many times. Maybe it'll happen again in this life. Who knows.]
They'll know that you're mine.
[He says with a hum, words sitting on his tongue thick like honey. Emmet likes telling Sylvain that he belongs to him just like Sylvie belongs to him, they are each other's to have - they belong to each other without falter. There's not another person in existence, this world or elsewhere, that could replace Sylvie. Not another person who could come close to comparing. He bites gently to the skin beneath his lips, moving ever so slightly to leave a trail of gradually darkening lovebites between bouts of teasing his tongue over his chest, lavishing it around Sylvie's nipple and moving slowly but surely south down his abdomen.]