( 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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( 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. )
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]