( sometimes it takes a long time to find one another. sometimes he never finds them; he dies early, gets hit by a car, shot, burned to death before sylvain is even able to begin his search. sometimes he's lucky, and he's born close to emmet--enough that by the time they're able to walk, they're able to walk to each other. sometimes it isn't so simple.
this time, it's--twenty years before sylvain finds him, walking through the hallways of the college he's been enrolled in. he's wearing a stupid tie, talking to another student outside a classroom that has a little board outside of it with the title of some stupid class and his name clearly etched in under it. sylvain quirks up one corner of his lips and keeps walking.
makes note of his name, the subject he's teaching, when his class gets out. when his office hours are--and switches his schedule around a little. comes back around, when his breaks seem to mesh well with emmet's.
watches the door for a bit to make sure the rest of the students are gone, out of his way. carefully, quietly makes his way in through the door while emmet's turned away. reaches for his wrist, with the hand where those three little lines identical to emmet's have been becoming more prominent over the last couple hours--and jerks both their hands up, to show the marks to emmet. )
Naughty of you. Aren't teacher-student relationships frowned on?
[He'd tried to describe the feeling of the search many times, writing in journals anything that came to mind in trying to put into words. It was a force, like magnets struggling to pull together, an entire force that sent him out into the world searching sometimes before he even knew what he was looking for. Most of the time he remembered on account of his dreams because even if he never found Sylvie in the flesh, he would often find him in his dreams. Snippets of his life as it played out or how it would, wherever he was. He'd use those to try to navigate his way toward him, surrendering to the search as it often took over his life with insistence until he found him. Or until that pull stopped, telling Emmet that he never would.
They'd find each other somehow, eventually, and that feeling could also then subside. So when he feels awash with the loss of that magnetism today, writing his class plan on the board in quiet strokes, he falters. For half a second he can't tell which way things fall but he hears his voice and turns around, heart pressed against his sternum from the inside - a myriad of emotions going through him like a bullet in only half seconds. It culminates in a quiet stretch of a smile across his lips, and his hand reaching for Sylvain's. Physical touch. Warmth. Reunion.]
You're not one of mine, so fuck it. Not that I'd have stopped if you were.
[Not a thing he wouldn't do for him. They barely met in this life and all he wants to do is lean in and kiss him - but he holds out, barely, by threads of his own hesitancy. But he doesn't let go of Sylvie's hand - he strokes his thumb over the mark and makes a quiet hum, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. Gravitating, even still, toward him. He can't hold back - so he leans further still.]
( there's a sickening sense of relief that settles into his gut as he touches em. as sylvain's fingers intertwine with his own. a sense of i'm home, finally that he both craves and meets with distaste; he hates that out of everyone in the world, he's only able to get that taste with this specific person. that he wastes so much time searching for this sensation. that he could be out there, figuring out how to end this for good and yet--from the moment he recalls who he is, the first thing on his mind is always emmet. this fucking bastard.
emmet leans in closer, head tipping at just the perfect angle for a kiss: their first kiss of this lifetime, in these bodies, but their millionth kiss they've shared over the eternities they've lived together. he knows how to move himself, how to press in close enough for sylvain to close the gap, to remind emmet who he belongs with. but he doesn't, he waits, and sylvain uses that to his advantage.
smiles soft as he leans up just a little higher, so their lips brush when he speaks, )
I've registered for your class at fifteen hundred hours.
[Said with a heavy dose of affection, and a final little push forward to capture Sylvain's lips with his own. It's a hungry kiss - passionate in ways that Emmet usually outwardly is not; it betrays the need in him, the want, the baser desires that he tries to suppress for the greater good. It's something he's always been obsessed with, a burden he made himself bear, but the outer shell sometimes cracks. And it's always because of his feelings for Sylvie. He half laughs in the breath he takes a moment later, because he doesn't even feel in control of himself - his hands are up and threading through Sylvie's hair, he's kissing across the corner of his lip toward his ear and pushing him back up against the desk.
He comes to his senses in a way after a moment, but doesn't relent his grip. Not after a lifetime of not having it. He smiles, quietly between the two of them and tries unsuccessfully to bottle back up the raging swell of emotion in his chest. He wants to take Sylvie home, wants to - touch him, make love to him, tease him, get mad at him, fight with him and run away from him just to have an excuse to feel this reunion again, albeit in a softer dose. But he can't ever run from him, even if he wanted to.]
( always so quick to break open for him. not that he can complain any regardless; em's temperament towards him is one of the many reasons why sylvain likes him. he likes watching him crack open, likes watching desperation take hold--in. innocent ways like this, at least. he's seen em crack in less fun ways, rarely by his own hands, and watching someone else break him fucking sucks.
that's his job.
the kiss is intense, hungry, pushy, and he allows it for the moment because he knows it's been a long time, knows em has been looking for him, waiting for this moment. remembers the last time they had parted--it had been sylvain first, death drawn out just long enough for it to leave a lasting impression on him. em is older this time, too--so not only has be spent longer waiting in this lifetime, but he may have had to wait in the last one longer to die to reach him, too. so this moment--sylvain's hip propped up on the desk, em's mouth pressing against his own, against his cheek, against his ear while fingers grip on hard into his hair--he'll allow it.
moans soft even, head tipping back and eyes closing while his own hand raises up to grip hard to short strands just above em's own ear. let's that question linger for a moment, before he's tipping his head in to whisper soft against emmet's ear, voice low and husky, )
Why don't you lock the door? Close the blinds, we'll see how well you can stick to your lesson plans around me.
( and if emmet loses his job for going a little too far inside his own classroom, well. they have more important things to focus on anyway. )
[It's the first time he says it aloud in this life and it feels both new to his lips and yet crashingly familiar; he's said it so many times before, ushered out in a soft exhale like this one, noses nudged and foreheads resting together. Emmet has always taken pride in how well he can conduct himself when he needs to - how he can be responsible and depended on. It's true, at least for the group of them but when it comes to outsiders, somehow he seems to fall short when tempted like this. When tempted by Sylvie. He ran away from his responsibilities in his first life and again and again he does it in these lives they live, that they're born into - the second he catches the scent of the others. He's run away from lives, from lovers, from so much and he would feel more guilty if he didn't just feel so complete like this.
He breathes in deep, kneading his hand against Sylvain's thigh as he leans into him again. He kisses his cheekbone, his temple, and then rests his chin against the crown of his head. He's trying to hold out but the way he's holding Sylvain is clear he won't get far. He'll crumble, dissolve into love and affection, but fuck. He should be better at this by now.]
I'm not letting you sleep your way up to a good grade. Just so we're clear.
( emmet's hand presses against his thigh, and sylvain laughs soft, shifts back so he's sitting on the desk and raises his leg up, leg wrapping around emmet's waist so he can press up and grind against him. the door is still cracked open, students are walking through college halls, there's someone sitting just outside fucking around on their laptop, but it's not as if he cares any. college might suspend him, but sylvain's smart; he's been around long enough to learn most the stupid crap they teach in schools. he could switch colleges. no big deal. )
Yes you are. ( murmured soft into the curve of emmet's neck, before he's nipping at the skin just below his adam's apple. ) You're going to blow me under your desk, let me fuck you on your desk, watch me while I sit at the back of the class and slowly unbutton my shirt while you try and talk to the rest of the students in the class. And you'll give me an A, even if I don't turn in jack shit.
[But the smile's in his voice, further betraying the sentiment, and his eyes are closed when he presses his cheek against Sylvain and feel's his lips already on his neck. He's so easily swayed it's ridiculous - at least at first, when he's so heady with allure that he doesn't let himself have any other thoughts. He's always been one to do the right thing - always comes around to harder choices and selflessness but... right now, he's being a little bit selfish. Reasonably selfish.
He would love to fuck Sylvie right now - let him climb over him, pin him down, take him home and - what, exactly? Thrill him with a one bedroom apartment the size of a shoebox because Emmet never cares about anything until he he needs to, and Sylvie deserves better. He turns his head in toward him and kisses his neck back, also aware of the door behind them and the danger it could bring. Classes will be filing in soon after break. People could come asking questions. The wrong person walking by a window could lead to a disaster. He leans back, hands still on Sylvain's thighs.]
I'm your mentor - your teacher. That'd be irresponsible, and against the rules... what would your peers think if they found out? Knew that you were using your beauty to get by, and it was... working so well? They'd say you have me wrapped around your finger. That's what they'd say.
[Another kiss to his neck, lingering. Amused, even still:]
( it's cute how he runs through everything. how sylvain can hear the smile in his voice, feel it pressed against his cheek as em moves around him to make himself comfortable. sighs soft, at the sensation of emmet's lips against his neck. it feels good, pleasant, especially after so long without him. but the door's still open, students are still out there, and emmet still hasn't given him what he wants. )
I do have you wrapped around my finger. ( hand shifting to slide his fingertips into the back of emmet's pants, just teasing at the idea of touching him more, but sylvain doesn't try that hard. he wants emmet to crack first. ) I haven't had sex with anyone else yet in this lifetime. I've been a little preoccupied; overbearing parents, a couple older sisters, searching for you and everyone else.
( head tipping up and thighs gripping onto emmet tighter, so he can tilt his hips up at just the right angle to grind hard against him. )
Imagine the story that'll erupt if you don't close that door, Em. Local college professor seduces new student, parents shocked 'cause their youngest never dated, he's too naive, clearly Mister Ramsey took advantage.
[He's laughing against Sylvain's neck, pressing close to it to kiss it - tempted just to bite down and leave a mark on that perfect stretch of skin just to throw it all away himself. But after a beat he slides his hand down Sylvain's arm to his wrist, pulling his hand out of his waistband but then lacing their fingers together rather than pushing off his advances entirely. He's still entangled just like the door is still cracked, but with another peck of a kiss to Sylvie's jaw he says:]
I have an office. It has a couch.
[Tempting as it may be to use this desk, there'll be other classes coming in soon. He's not so confident to be so bold just yet, not without a little more practice in vibrant indiscretion. He's leaning back to put a sliver of space between them, free hand cupping Sylvain's jaw, and he nudges their noses together again because if he keeps grinding his hips, he won't be able to say no at all.]
So come with me there, Mr. Laurent. For your after class needs.
( and here he was trying so hard to convince emmet to break the rules. it's been forever and a half, why not, it's not like any potential crimes he'll commit in this lifetime won't be forgotten by the time they reset again. he laughs, and sylvain can't hold back the little smile that curls up the corners of his lips. lets emmet pull his hand loose, and grips back just as tight. let's emmet pull away from him, although he's leaning forward to press their foreheads together when emmet's nose nudges against his own. drops his legs down, since he's already figured he's going to lose this battle. )
I missed you. And I'm still pissed at you, for what you did.
( the dramatic throwing himself in front of sylvain to take the blow so he died instead. sylvain had to live several years after that just fucking waiting to die again to get here again. )
[He knows it's not that simple but he's tugging Slyvie's hip to usher him down off the desk and onto his feet again, moving a foot away without letting go of their linked hands so he can grab his satchel. He was going to work on lesson plans, set something up for later - but none of that matters now. The second he saw Sylvain again, everything in this life ceased to be important. It's always like that, which can get to be a bit frustrating. Promotions and vacations are nothing but inconveniences now, things he used to want and look forward to... but nothing matters now but...]
( rude. but he's laughing again, getting himself off of the desk and holding onto emmet. the moment his feet hit the ground, he's taking off to walk in front of him. leading, but still gripping tight to emmet's hand. )
I'm in Apley Court. My roommate's a stoner. He likes it better when I'm not there; uses my bed to hold his chip bag while he watches true crime dramas on his laptop on the floor.
( he never intended to finish college. it was more a thing he had to go through, be led through, so he could find them. could get back to what they're really here for. and it worked out well, didn't it? here's emmet. so sylvain doesn't give a shit about missing the rest of his classes. )
[He gives himself a final answer, unable not to have a smile in the corners of his lips - even if nothing beyond them and the others really matters, Emmet still finds an unusual sense of joy in learning about Sylvain's lives. They're different, they're the same, elements fitting in and being swapped out like puzzle pieces each time. They don't shape him as he knows him, and knew him, and yet he likes to think they shape a part of him in the world they're in, and thus they're... fun to learn about. Sometimes it's fun to meet his parents. Other times less so. He's reserved now, after a couple lives too many where people sort of scorned them for their relationships.
Following Sylvain to the door he threads his hang over his shoulder and hesitates by the door, hands still holding to each other, and stops in his stride. It wouldn't be hard now to just... throw it all away and not care about the consequences, but they have work yet to do. Get the funds to find the others, a place to stay in the meanwhile... it means playing parts. If not just for a little while longer.]
You have to be my dirty little secret in the halls.
( money and power are important; they need it to travel freely, to get what they need, to find each other, to take down lucien. sylvain is often born into it: rich families with more money and time than they know what to do with. this time isn't that different, but there's no benefit to fucking over emmet shortterm aside from providing a little bit of amusement, so he just. snorts. lets go of emmet's hand without another word while he toes open the door with his foot and lets himself out of the classroom.
grabs hold of the bookbag he'd left right outside of it to throw it over a shoulder. )
Remember when you were my dirty little secret? ( or. well. the multiple times he was. sylvain recalls a few: when he'd been highborn, but emmet was living in the slums; another life, when men being with other men wasn't unheard of, but was heavily frowned upon. when sylvain had been older by several years, and had kept emmet with him as a cousin in his estate with willa. )
[He answers with a soft tilt of his head, door to the hallway opening as he steps back to let Sylvain out first. People still litter the outer hall and campus, but Emmet is more composed than he was a second ago when he was this close to just going at it on his desk with Sylvain, saying fuck it to everything. He follows Sylvie out a few steps, then gestures for him to follow him in the route back to his office. He keeps a steady pace, bag over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets. Comfortable and confident, still a bit authoritative with how he stays just out of perfect stride with Sylvain, slightly ahead. Yet close enough to talk intimately.]
The number of times I've had to hide in your bedroom. It was kind of exciting... maybe, just maybe, I'll let you work me up to that here too. Keeping you under my desk while I work, see if anybody notices.
[One last turn, and his name is on another plaque on the wall - and an adjacent door is quickly unlocked with keys from his lanyard. He pushes in the door this time, and gestures for Sylvain to enter first. He'll follow him in, close - too close - bumping up behind him while they move and putting his lips to the back of his neck the second they're over the threshold. Door behind only barely closing.]
( at least their physical changes aren't usually that noticeable; sylvain can almost always identify emmet with a glance, can almost always count on emmet having a height advantage he enjoys using against him. the feel of emmet against him rarely ever changes, and sylvain usually finds himself craving that familiarity.
like he craves the feeling of emmet pressed up against him, his lips in close, breath fanning out against his neck. the extra steps he had to take down the hallway, following behind emmet while he tried to look like a proper authority figure (while sylvain held back rolling his eyes at how stupid it was) and sliding in through the doorway while emmet closed it behind him were all worth it for this.
his hand reaches back, fingers moving to press against the nap of emmet's neck as sylvain tips his head to the side, rests the back of his skull against emmet's shoulder. )
I'll be sure to work hard to distract you from your work.
I'm going to plan an over night trip just to find a way to sneak you into my room.
[Wouldn't be that hard in reality, the college has more than enough funding right now for new initiatives; he could organize something a city or two away, studying art and design, infrastructure - hell, he could take all his students to a conference and still make it work. Few nights away, monitoring rooms just to know that he's breaking his own set rules by sneaking Sylvain into his bed for a night of debaucherous sex.
He's humming, pleased with himself already, lips to Sylvie's neck - travelling up toward his jaw, kissing the junction before playfully nipping at the lobe of his ear. His hands have made a direct line in how they've smoothed up his sides, gripping his waist and pushing him forward toward the leather couch. It's big and comfy but definitely old, half covered by a throw blanket. He's spent several nights on it (as noted by the stacks of books by its ends and lamp on an adjacent end table) while working on papers and research. Laid there thinking of Sylvie more often than not, so it seems about time to nudge him down onto it.]
emmet follows him lifetime after lifetime. he's (almost) always there, waiting for him, waiting for this and it's--addictive, even if sylvain can think of several lifetimes when he spent most of them just finding reasons to bitch at him. emmet pushes, and sylvain laughs; it's a soft sound, airy and gentle, before he's moving to turn around and sit himself down on the couch cushion that isn't covered with the throw. )
I love you too, Em. ( gentle still, as he raises his hands up to coax emmet to follow him down. kicks his shoes off while he's at it, they're only going to get in the way from here. ) Even if you're a nerd.
I don't think you get to talk, with how keen you are in getting into my class.
[Even if they've both just established how Sylvie will be doing hardly any work - his interest is still there, if not filtered more directly onto Emmet alone. He's grinning even still, putting his knee on the sofa next to Sylvie; his hands rake through his hair, smooth down his neck, and he leans to allow himself to be coaxed down, nudging Sylvain to let him hover over him. The couch isn't incredibly large but it fits two bodies on it well, and he wants to feel Sylvain beneath him, rekindling the physical memory he's experienced a hundred or thousand times before.
It always feels good - always feels the same. Maybe it's because Emmet tends to lead with the same motions, his hand sliding up Sylvain's thigh as he slinks between his legs, laying over him close enough to be belly to belly when he captures his mouth in a kiss. It's all very languid, slow, rekindling warm emotions doesn't need a burst of passion immediately. He could lay like this forever.]
( emmet touches him like he's something to be worshipped, and fuck if it doesn't get his stomach tied up in knots. it feels good, heart fluttering as he gives a soft sigh, a shuddering gasp following after he pulls in a sharp breath. spreads his legs to fit emmet in between them, one heel hooking over emmet's waist to keep him pressed in close. )
Much as I'm enjoying this education bullshit, an easy A's never a bad thing.
( a soft laugh, before sylvain's tipping his head back to rest the back of his head against the sofa, hands slipping under emmet's shirt to trace the line of his spine up to the middle of his back, then back down to shove their way under his pants, groping at his ass with a groan. )
Think we could just--cuddle, like this, for a few days? Weeks? I missed being able to feel you.
[The feel of Sylvie's legs spread for him, wrapped around him to hold him tight - so fucking familiar, the second he feels the heel in the dip of his back it's a brand new memory that feels like a thousand others. He grins, licking a warm stripe up the side of Sylvain's throat before nipping beneath the shell of his ear, kissing at his pulse point and down his throat while Slyvie gropes him, spurring on more affectionate kissing of tender flesh. When he speaks, it's murmured against it:]
We don't have to move. We don't have to do anything but this for as long as you want.
[Because he understands - he wants to feel as intoxicated by this as he can, for as long as he can. It's always been dangerous, meeting up with Sylvie, because it poses a soft threat to their current lives to be so enamored with one another immediately. One of them often looks like they're taking advantage of the other - that'd be the read here, too, but even still:]
I just want to be with you. Breathe you in. Drink you down.
[Be together, like one, tangled up like tree roots.]
Not sure how I'm going to let you go, when all I want to do is keep you.
( so. maybe not actually for forever, even if he wishes they could. emmet could call out sick, say he ate something sour so he can't teach the rest of his classes for the day. the week, maybe. sylvain can text his stupid roommate, tell him he went to stay with his parents because the pressure got to him. text his dorm head the same, and then text his parents and tell them he's off with his sister. some bullshit like that, he'd figure it out.
instead he's taking a hand off emmet so he can shove up his shirt, bunching fabric up below his chin before he's tangling fingers in emmet's hair to pull his head down, yanking to press his mouth against sylvain's chest. arches his back up, with a soft sound, )
I want you to leave marks, so everyone knows I'm yours. So I can't go to the shared showers on my floor without someone seeing, without them knowing you've laid claim. Enough that everyone'll see my mark and they'll--they'll know I found you. ( just under his shirt, where that shit's a little less noticeable and less likely to rub against the collar of his shirt and piss him off. )
[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.]
( getting caught in the office with his shirt shoved up, chest covered in little bites and lovemarks and emmet between his legs wouldn't be the best, but it wouldn't be the first time this has happened to them either, would it? he remembers before all of this happened, when he was young, new to the world--when he'd pull emmet through the castle, bitch down the hall towards his second eldest brother and laugh as they'd fall down onto the floor, grappling and groping at each other along the way. when his brother would make his way down the hall, armor over his chest and a steely look in his eye as he looked down at them, clothing in disarray and boots thrown haphazardly across the floor.
sylvain would laugh, then that steely look would falter and his brother would roll his eyes. tell them to at least clean up this time, before the clatter of metal down the hall signaled his departure. when things were complicated in a different way, but never this.
emmet knows his body even better than sylvain does and it--doesn't take much to have him gasping and moaning under him, writhing when emmet's tongue traces over a nipple, gasping soft with a low laugh when he bites down. emmet's soft, affectionate, and while he tends to do a lot of shit that irritates him and pisses him off, nothing ever sours these moments: when they're reunited after a long time apart, when emmet presses over him so delicately, when finds all the places that make sylvain feel even more infatuated with him than he already is. or it could just be his dick talking, who knows.
he's arching his back to press up against emmet, gripping tight onto his hair. pulls rough, before he's releasing it to reach up above emmet's head to reach for his watch. )
I'll set an alarm, ( voice teasing, sultry, ) so we're not late for class.
[He says with a smile to his words, his mouth around Sylvie's navel and moving farther down once he's gotten his hands to loosen his pants and pull them down to give him more skin to trail over. Another tug and they're down his thighs, baring flesh for him to run his tongue over, including the length of Sylvain's cock with a drag of the flat of his tongue from base to tip. He puts his hand to the base of it, and licks at the head, looking up to meet eyes with his lover before taking it into his mouth and shifting forward to push almost entirely flush before withdrawing, rinse repeat.
Emmet intends to take his time with this - disregarding the alarm if by then he doesn't feel they've had enough time for their moment. The first time they fuck in a life is always, by some merit, the most amazing. It's a rekindling of love and affection, like remembering a whole new part of themselves they didn't know they had forgotten until they'd been together again. He'd throw his life away - literally and metaphorically - for Sylvie. In an instant.]
( they had an hour between classes, when sylvain had first interrupted emmet trying to work on his next class. his mouth moves south, over his navel, and sylvain's--giving a soft laugh when lips trail over a ticklish area, switching his watch screen over to the timer to set it for thirty minutes. it's cutting it close, but sylvain doesn't really give a shit, especially when em's dragging his tongue over the length of his cock and it's twitching in response, a soft gasp escaping his lips.
because finding emmet is one of the few things he looks forward to in life. the routine of growing up with a family, moving out, finding new employment, finding ways to get across the country, it's all so repetitive. but nothing about emmet feels like he's having to repeat useless nonsense again ang again. even the first time they have contact like this: it always feels like magic. his eyes narrow, but stay focused on emmet's own while he takes his cock into his mouth. gives a soft, pleased moan before he's raising a leg up to try and hook it around emmet's shoulder. press his heel into his shoulder blade to give him a little more leverage. )
[The look Emmet shoots up toward Sylvain reeks of a desire to say 'good', lips almost in a smile around his cock as he pulls back just a little and resumes the rhythmic bobbing of his head to better wet the entire length of it with his tongue. Sylvie's leg is welcomed around his shoulder, one hand coming up to brace it by the outer thigh, encouraging a good grip and keeping it there while he settles back down to wet, lewd sucks and swivels of his head as he lavishes Sylvain's cock with his full and undivided attention.
Thirty minutes will be enough but it won't be enough, and come the sounding of that alarm he's not entirely sure he'll be able to pull away. Even just temporarily, the thought of separating from Sylvie for even a day's time feels like an unbearable torture. He has him now, literally in his grasp, and to relent that feels impossible. So he funnels that latent anxiety into what he's doing, hollowing his cheeks and fondling Sylvie's cock by the base whenever he pulls back, fingers toying over his balls and his breath coming in short, quick exhales through flared nostrils as he refuses to pull back any farther than necessary. Not until he feels him writhe under him will he take any pause.]
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no subject
this time, it's--twenty years before sylvain finds him, walking through the hallways of the college he's been enrolled in. he's wearing a stupid tie, talking to another student outside a classroom that has a little board outside of it with the title of some stupid class and his name clearly etched in under it. sylvain quirks up one corner of his lips and keeps walking.
makes note of his name, the subject he's teaching, when his class gets out. when his office hours are--and switches his schedule around a little. comes back around, when his breaks seem to mesh well with emmet's.
watches the door for a bit to make sure the rest of the students are gone, out of his way. carefully, quietly makes his way in through the door while emmet's turned away. reaches for his wrist, with the hand where those three little lines identical to emmet's have been becoming more prominent over the last couple hours--and jerks both their hands up, to show the marks to emmet. )
Naughty of you. Aren't teacher-student relationships frowned on?
no subject
They'd find each other somehow, eventually, and that feeling could also then subside. So when he feels awash with the loss of that magnetism today, writing his class plan on the board in quiet strokes, he falters. For half a second he can't tell which way things fall but he hears his voice and turns around, heart pressed against his sternum from the inside - a myriad of emotions going through him like a bullet in only half seconds. It culminates in a quiet stretch of a smile across his lips, and his hand reaching for Sylvain's. Physical touch. Warmth. Reunion.]
You're not one of mine, so fuck it. Not that I'd have stopped if you were.
[Not a thing he wouldn't do for him. They barely met in this life and all he wants to do is lean in and kiss him - but he holds out, barely, by threads of his own hesitancy. But he doesn't let go of Sylvie's hand - he strokes his thumb over the mark and makes a quiet hum, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. Gravitating, even still, toward him. He can't hold back - so he leans further still.]
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emmet leans in closer, head tipping at just the perfect angle for a kiss: their first kiss of this lifetime, in these bodies, but their millionth kiss they've shared over the eternities they've lived together. he knows how to move himself, how to press in close enough for sylvain to close the gap, to remind emmet who he belongs with. but he doesn't, he waits, and sylvain uses that to his advantage.
smiles soft as he leans up just a little higher, so their lips brush when he speaks, )
I've registered for your class at fifteen hundred hours.
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[Said with a heavy dose of affection, and a final little push forward to capture Sylvain's lips with his own. It's a hungry kiss - passionate in ways that Emmet usually outwardly is not; it betrays the need in him, the want, the baser desires that he tries to suppress for the greater good. It's something he's always been obsessed with, a burden he made himself bear, but the outer shell sometimes cracks. And it's always because of his feelings for Sylvie. He half laughs in the breath he takes a moment later, because he doesn't even feel in control of himself - his hands are up and threading through Sylvie's hair, he's kissing across the corner of his lip toward his ear and pushing him back up against the desk.
He comes to his senses in a way after a moment, but doesn't relent his grip. Not after a lifetime of not having it. He smiles, quietly between the two of them and tries unsuccessfully to bottle back up the raging swell of emotion in his chest. He wants to take Sylvie home, wants to - touch him, make love to him, tease him, get mad at him, fight with him and run away from him just to have an excuse to feel this reunion again, albeit in a softer dose. But he can't ever run from him, even if he wanted to.]
How am I supposed to teach with you in the room?
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that's his job.
the kiss is intense, hungry, pushy, and he allows it for the moment because he knows it's been a long time, knows em has been looking for him, waiting for this moment. remembers the last time they had parted--it had been sylvain first, death drawn out just long enough for it to leave a lasting impression on him. em is older this time, too--so not only has be spent longer waiting in this lifetime, but he may have had to wait in the last one longer to die to reach him, too. so this moment--sylvain's hip propped up on the desk, em's mouth pressing against his own, against his cheek, against his ear while fingers grip on hard into his hair--he'll allow it.
moans soft even, head tipping back and eyes closing while his own hand raises up to grip hard to short strands just above em's own ear. let's that question linger for a moment, before he's tipping his head in to whisper soft against emmet's ear, voice low and husky, )
Why don't you lock the door? Close the blinds, we'll see how well you can stick to your lesson plans around me.
( and if emmet loses his job for going a little too far inside his own classroom, well. they have more important things to focus on anyway. )
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[It's the first time he says it aloud in this life and it feels both new to his lips and yet crashingly familiar; he's said it so many times before, ushered out in a soft exhale like this one, noses nudged and foreheads resting together. Emmet has always taken pride in how well he can conduct himself when he needs to - how he can be responsible and depended on. It's true, at least for the group of them but when it comes to outsiders, somehow he seems to fall short when tempted like this. When tempted by Sylvie. He ran away from his responsibilities in his first life and again and again he does it in these lives they live, that they're born into - the second he catches the scent of the others. He's run away from lives, from lovers, from so much and he would feel more guilty if he didn't just feel so complete like this.
He breathes in deep, kneading his hand against Sylvain's thigh as he leans into him again. He kisses his cheekbone, his temple, and then rests his chin against the crown of his head. He's trying to hold out but the way he's holding Sylvain is clear he won't get far. He'll crumble, dissolve into love and affection, but fuck. He should be better at this by now.]
I'm not letting you sleep your way up to a good grade. Just so we're clear.
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Yes you are. ( murmured soft into the curve of emmet's neck, before he's nipping at the skin just below his adam's apple. ) You're going to blow me under your desk, let me fuck you on your desk, watch me while I sit at the back of the class and slowly unbutton my shirt while you try and talk to the rest of the students in the class. And you'll give me an A, even if I don't turn in jack shit.
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[But the smile's in his voice, further betraying the sentiment, and his eyes are closed when he presses his cheek against Sylvain and feel's his lips already on his neck. He's so easily swayed it's ridiculous - at least at first, when he's so heady with allure that he doesn't let himself have any other thoughts. He's always been one to do the right thing - always comes around to harder choices and selflessness but... right now, he's being a little bit selfish. Reasonably selfish.
He would love to fuck Sylvie right now - let him climb over him, pin him down, take him home and - what, exactly? Thrill him with a one bedroom apartment the size of a shoebox because Emmet never cares about anything until he he needs to, and Sylvie deserves better. He turns his head in toward him and kisses his neck back, also aware of the door behind them and the danger it could bring. Classes will be filing in soon after break. People could come asking questions. The wrong person walking by a window could lead to a disaster. He leans back, hands still on Sylvain's thighs.]
I'm your mentor - your teacher. That'd be irresponsible, and against the rules... what would your peers think if they found out? Knew that you were using your beauty to get by, and it was... working so well? They'd say you have me wrapped around your finger. That's what they'd say.
[Another kiss to his neck, lingering. Amused, even still:]
It'd be terrible. So terrible.
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I do have you wrapped around my finger. ( hand shifting to slide his fingertips into the back of emmet's pants, just teasing at the idea of touching him more, but sylvain doesn't try that hard. he wants emmet to crack first. ) I haven't had sex with anyone else yet in this lifetime. I've been a little preoccupied; overbearing parents, a couple older sisters, searching for you and everyone else.
( head tipping up and thighs gripping onto emmet tighter, so he can tilt his hips up at just the right angle to grind hard against him. )
Imagine the story that'll erupt if you don't close that door, Em. Local college professor seduces new student, parents shocked 'cause their youngest never dated, he's too naive, clearly Mister Ramsey took advantage.
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[He's laughing against Sylvain's neck, pressing close to it to kiss it - tempted just to bite down and leave a mark on that perfect stretch of skin just to throw it all away himself. But after a beat he slides his hand down Sylvain's arm to his wrist, pulling his hand out of his waistband but then lacing their fingers together rather than pushing off his advances entirely. He's still entangled just like the door is still cracked, but with another peck of a kiss to Sylvie's jaw he says:]
I have an office. It has a couch.
[Tempting as it may be to use this desk, there'll be other classes coming in soon. He's not so confident to be so bold just yet, not without a little more practice in vibrant indiscretion. He's leaning back to put a sliver of space between them, free hand cupping Sylvain's jaw, and he nudges their noses together again because if he keeps grinding his hips, he won't be able to say no at all.]
So come with me there, Mr. Laurent. For your after class needs.
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I missed you. And I'm still pissed at you, for what you did.
( the dramatic throwing himself in front of sylvain to take the blow so he died instead. sylvain had to live several years after that just fucking waiting to die again to get here again. )
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[He knows it's not that simple but he's tugging Slyvie's hip to usher him down off the desk and onto his feet again, moving a foot away without letting go of their linked hands so he can grab his satchel. He was going to work on lesson plans, set something up for later - but none of that matters now. The second he saw Sylvain again, everything in this life ceased to be important. It's always like that, which can get to be a bit frustrating. Promotions and vacations are nothing but inconveniences now, things he used to want and look forward to... but nothing matters now but...]
All night or - until your curfew call.
[Teasing. But also not. He's amused by it.]
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I'm in Apley Court. My roommate's a stoner. He likes it better when I'm not there; uses my bed to hold his chip bag while he watches true crime dramas on his laptop on the floor.
( he never intended to finish college. it was more a thing he had to go through, be led through, so he could find them. could get back to what they're really here for. and it worked out well, didn't it? here's emmet. so sylvain doesn't give a shit about missing the rest of his classes. )
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[He gives himself a final answer, unable not to have a smile in the corners of his lips - even if nothing beyond them and the others really matters, Emmet still finds an unusual sense of joy in learning about Sylvain's lives. They're different, they're the same, elements fitting in and being swapped out like puzzle pieces each time. They don't shape him as he knows him, and knew him, and yet he likes to think they shape a part of him in the world they're in, and thus they're... fun to learn about. Sometimes it's fun to meet his parents. Other times less so. He's reserved now, after a couple lives too many where people sort of scorned them for their relationships.
Following Sylvain to the door he threads his hang over his shoulder and hesitates by the door, hands still holding to each other, and stops in his stride. It wouldn't be hard now to just... throw it all away and not care about the consequences, but they have work yet to do. Get the funds to find the others, a place to stay in the meanwhile... it means playing parts. If not just for a little while longer.]
You have to be my dirty little secret in the halls.
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grabs hold of the bookbag he'd left right outside of it to throw it over a shoulder. )
Remember when you were my dirty little secret? ( or. well. the multiple times he was. sylvain recalls a few: when he'd been highborn, but emmet was living in the slums; another life, when men being with other men wasn't unheard of, but was heavily frowned upon. when sylvain had been older by several years, and had kept emmet with him as a cousin in his estate with willa. )
It usually works better that way.
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[He answers with a soft tilt of his head, door to the hallway opening as he steps back to let Sylvain out first. People still litter the outer hall and campus, but Emmet is more composed than he was a second ago when he was this close to just going at it on his desk with Sylvain, saying fuck it to everything. He follows Sylvie out a few steps, then gestures for him to follow him in the route back to his office. He keeps a steady pace, bag over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets. Comfortable and confident, still a bit authoritative with how he stays just out of perfect stride with Sylvain, slightly ahead. Yet close enough to talk intimately.]
The number of times I've had to hide in your bedroom. It was kind of exciting... maybe, just maybe, I'll let you work me up to that here too. Keeping you under my desk while I work, see if anybody notices.
[One last turn, and his name is on another plaque on the wall - and an adjacent door is quickly unlocked with keys from his lanyard. He pushes in the door this time, and gestures for Sylvain to enter first. He'll follow him in, close - too close - bumping up behind him while they move and putting his lips to the back of his neck the second they're over the threshold. Door behind only barely closing.]
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like he craves the feeling of emmet pressed up against him, his lips in close, breath fanning out against his neck. the extra steps he had to take down the hallway, following behind emmet while he tried to look like a proper authority figure (while sylvain held back rolling his eyes at how stupid it was) and sliding in through the doorway while emmet closed it behind him were all worth it for this.
his hand reaches back, fingers moving to press against the nap of emmet's neck as sylvain tips his head to the side, rests the back of his skull against emmet's shoulder. )
I'll be sure to work hard to distract you from your work.
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[Wouldn't be that hard in reality, the college has more than enough funding right now for new initiatives; he could organize something a city or two away, studying art and design, infrastructure - hell, he could take all his students to a conference and still make it work. Few nights away, monitoring rooms just to know that he's breaking his own set rules by sneaking Sylvain into his bed for a night of debaucherous sex.
He's humming, pleased with himself already, lips to Sylvie's neck - travelling up toward his jaw, kissing the junction before playfully nipping at the lobe of his ear. His hands have made a direct line in how they've smoothed up his sides, gripping his waist and pushing him forward toward the leather couch. It's big and comfy but definitely old, half covered by a throw blanket. He's spent several nights on it (as noted by the stacks of books by its ends and lamp on an adjacent end table) while working on papers and research. Laid there thinking of Sylvie more often than not, so it seems about time to nudge him down onto it.]
I love you, Sylvie.
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emmet follows him lifetime after lifetime. he's (almost) always there, waiting for him, waiting for this and it's--addictive, even if sylvain can think of several lifetimes when he spent most of them just finding reasons to bitch at him. emmet pushes, and sylvain laughs; it's a soft sound, airy and gentle, before he's moving to turn around and sit himself down on the couch cushion that isn't covered with the throw. )
I love you too, Em. ( gentle still, as he raises his hands up to coax emmet to follow him down. kicks his shoes off while he's at it, they're only going to get in the way from here. ) Even if you're a nerd.
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[Even if they've both just established how Sylvie will be doing hardly any work - his interest is still there, if not filtered more directly onto Emmet alone. He's grinning even still, putting his knee on the sofa next to Sylvie; his hands rake through his hair, smooth down his neck, and he leans to allow himself to be coaxed down, nudging Sylvain to let him hover over him. The couch isn't incredibly large but it fits two bodies on it well, and he wants to feel Sylvain beneath him, rekindling the physical memory he's experienced a hundred or thousand times before.
It always feels good - always feels the same. Maybe it's because Emmet tends to lead with the same motions, his hand sliding up Sylvain's thigh as he slinks between his legs, laying over him close enough to be belly to belly when he captures his mouth in a kiss. It's all very languid, slow, rekindling warm emotions doesn't need a burst of passion immediately. He could lay like this forever.]
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Much as I'm enjoying this education bullshit, an easy A's never a bad thing.
( a soft laugh, before sylvain's tipping his head back to rest the back of his head against the sofa, hands slipping under emmet's shirt to trace the line of his spine up to the middle of his back, then back down to shove their way under his pants, groping at his ass with a groan. )
Think we could just--cuddle, like this, for a few days? Weeks? I missed being able to feel you.
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We don't have to move. We don't have to do anything but this for as long as you want.
[Because he understands - he wants to feel as intoxicated by this as he can, for as long as he can. It's always been dangerous, meeting up with Sylvie, because it poses a soft threat to their current lives to be so enamored with one another immediately. One of them often looks like they're taking advantage of the other - that'd be the read here, too, but even still:]
I just want to be with you. Breathe you in. Drink you down.
[Be together, like one, tangled up like tree roots.]
Not sure how I'm going to let you go, when all I want to do is keep you.
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( so. maybe not actually for forever, even if he wishes they could. emmet could call out sick, say he ate something sour so he can't teach the rest of his classes for the day. the week, maybe. sylvain can text his stupid roommate, tell him he went to stay with his parents because the pressure got to him. text his dorm head the same, and then text his parents and tell them he's off with his sister. some bullshit like that, he'd figure it out.
instead he's taking a hand off emmet so he can shove up his shirt, bunching fabric up below his chin before he's tangling fingers in emmet's hair to pull his head down, yanking to press his mouth against sylvain's chest. arches his back up, with a soft sound, )
I want you to leave marks, so everyone knows I'm yours. So I can't go to the shared showers on my floor without someone seeing, without them knowing you've laid claim. Enough that everyone'll see my mark and they'll--they'll know I found you. ( just under his shirt, where that shit's a little less noticeable and less likely to rub against the collar of his shirt and piss him off. )
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[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.]
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sylvain would laugh, then that steely look would falter and his brother would roll his eyes. tell them to at least clean up this time, before the clatter of metal down the hall signaled his departure. when things were complicated in a different way, but never this.
emmet knows his body even better than sylvain does and it--doesn't take much to have him gasping and moaning under him, writhing when emmet's tongue traces over a nipple, gasping soft with a low laugh when he bites down. emmet's soft, affectionate, and while he tends to do a lot of shit that irritates him and pisses him off, nothing ever sours these moments: when they're reunited after a long time apart, when emmet presses over him so delicately, when finds all the places that make sylvain feel even more infatuated with him than he already is. or it could just be his dick talking, who knows.
he's arching his back to press up against emmet, gripping tight onto his hair. pulls rough, before he's releasing it to reach up above emmet's head to reach for his watch. )
I'll set an alarm, ( voice teasing, sultry, ) so we're not late for class.
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[He says with a smile to his words, his mouth around Sylvie's navel and moving farther down once he's gotten his hands to loosen his pants and pull them down to give him more skin to trail over. Another tug and they're down his thighs, baring flesh for him to run his tongue over, including the length of Sylvain's cock with a drag of the flat of his tongue from base to tip. He puts his hand to the base of it, and licks at the head, looking up to meet eyes with his lover before taking it into his mouth and shifting forward to push almost entirely flush before withdrawing, rinse repeat.
Emmet intends to take his time with this - disregarding the alarm if by then he doesn't feel they've had enough time for their moment. The first time they fuck in a life is always, by some merit, the most amazing. It's a rekindling of love and affection, like remembering a whole new part of themselves they didn't know they had forgotten until they'd been together again. He'd throw his life away - literally and metaphorically - for Sylvie. In an instant.]
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because finding emmet is one of the few things he looks forward to in life. the routine of growing up with a family, moving out, finding new employment, finding ways to get across the country, it's all so repetitive. but nothing about emmet feels like he's having to repeat useless nonsense again ang again. even the first time they have contact like this: it always feels like magic. his eyes narrow, but stay focused on emmet's own while he takes his cock into his mouth. gives a soft, pleased moan before he's raising a leg up to try and hook it around emmet's shoulder. press his heel into his shoulder blade to give him a little more leverage. )
I'll never tire of that mouth of yours.
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Thirty minutes will be enough but it won't be enough, and come the sounding of that alarm he's not entirely sure he'll be able to pull away. Even just temporarily, the thought of separating from Sylvie for even a day's time feels like an unbearable torture. He has him now, literally in his grasp, and to relent that feels impossible. So he funnels that latent anxiety into what he's doing, hollowing his cheeks and fondling Sylvie's cock by the base whenever he pulls back, fingers toying over his balls and his breath coming in short, quick exhales through flared nostrils as he refuses to pull back any farther than necessary. Not until he feels him writhe under him will he take any pause.]