( 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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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.]