[ He shudders out a breathy moan as fingers trail down his spine. The gentle touch on a usually private part of his body feels entirely aflame. He could have basked in that a good long while (if he didn't inevitably become uncomfortable with the soft attention), but it's no surprise Sylvain delves lower. The oil is warm and slick on Sylvain's knowing hands, and Basch exhales sharply, ass clenching. Anticipation indeed. He'll be a little sore tomorrow, and he'll treasure the reminder that this happened.
Gods, though. He doesn't know what to do with having his ass teased like he's the night's entertainment while being told he's-- he's--
He can't even get the thought out. He just breaths shallowly, leaning his forehead against the cool wall. He doesn't believe Sylvain, but he doesn't think him a liar either. It's two truths he can't reconcile, and so his mind wants to be somewhere else. All he can conclude is that he's strange, a diversion, already retreating from the very real approval he's seen again and again in Sylvain. But that's alright. He's hungry to be used like this, and Sylvain is pleased by it. That is enough. ]
You were patient, then [ he says. ] Those who decided to partake from me in the past never suffered waiting. [ Or risking sharing. Even as he says it, though, his body shudders again at the slow but constant pace of teasing his backside, and the memory of Sylvain's cock in his mouth is bright in his mind. ]
Oh, I've been told I'm maddeningly patient, sorry to say.
[ There's a chuckle in his voice as he leans in to press against Basch's back once more. While one hand keeps him pinned, he uses his weight to help, even as the other finally presses a finger into him, testing how tight he is, testing the pace he needs to go here to prepare the man's body for what is to come.
If the man takes it easily, he'll add a second finger almost right away, but if it feels like he needs a slower approach in stretching these muscles, Sylvain doesn't mind taking his time either. Working his fingers deep, letting the oil ease his way as he works those muscles loose and relaxed for him. Sylvain is not a small man and he wants to make sure there's no pain when he does finally slide into Basch's eager body.
And if his fingers seek out and purposefully brush over a sensitive bundle of nerves in the process, all the better. ]
I don't think this counts as maddening or patient.
[ His voice is low, breathy, but that he's talking this much at all is a testament to that constant something that has him off kilter with Sylvain.
It's true as ever; he's poor enough at lying when he can focus, and gods help him if he needed to now. His whimpering groan is languid, relaxed even. It's been a long time since he's done this, but there's an undeniable trust here that makes it easy just listen to his body and bask in the intensity of sensation. Fortunate, because he remembers quite well that Sylvain was damn near too much for his throat. Not that that's going to stop him.
Some of those sounds become sharper, muscles clenching and releasing as Sylvain finds more sensitive purchase. He gasps out the other's name, pinned hand reaching for the other as his other fist clenches. It feels oddly intimate to call for him, no title and no plea. ]
[ It's not, and he knows that. Can tell how in how Basch's body responds to him, relaxes and then clenches whenever he brushes over his prostate. The sound of his name gasped, the feeling of the hand pinned behind the man's back scrabbling for purchase. ]
Or should we try for more?
[ Really, that had been a rhetorical question because, having decided the two digits were now moving easily enough, he adds a third to stretching wider still. Scissoring them within him, crooking them slightly as he drags them back out again. While he's not exactly taking his time, he is certainly being thorough. ]
[ His moan is louder, body contorting against that onslaught of feeling. He has to widen his stance, shift his weight on his arm so he doesn't crumple. It's so much, and some visceral, animal part of his brain wants to pull away to safety, even as the rest of him craves more of it. He's glad he's pinned. It's easier to relax into it like this. And -- it's bliss. With his head clear, with every step of this his choosing, he's...enjoying himself.
Still. Something in him balks. He knows Sylvain could hurt him, knows this person is a stranger, knows there's danger. ]
What if -- I had said it was too much?
[ It's not. It's slow and measured and knowing and that's why he's having such an easy time of this. But asking brushes up against that muddle of fear and desire to be overpowered, and -- that other thing. Whatever it is he keeps brushing up against but cannot name. ]
[ Sylvain's lips press hot but somehow reassuring against the back of his neck as he works those fingers deeper again. ]
I would have known you were lying. Your body was already telling me the answer I needed to hear. If it was too much, you wouldn't be chasing my fingers, reluctant to release me. Those pretty moans of yours would hold a different note - but no, all they hold is pleasure. Hunger.
Mouths lie. [ A scrape of teeth now, the tease of a brief bite before he soothes over the spot with his tongue again. ] Bodies rarely do. They hold a language all their own.
[ neither of them can deny the effect Sylvain’s words and steady touch continue to have on him, that rigidness he carries melting into something much more pliable and accommodating.
He’s getting more accustomed to the heady mix of shame and breathlessness at being so accurately read and closely observed. It’s a strange thing, to be kept by someone else. Sexually, yes, but to be held in some level of accurate image in their eyes, their vantage point showing them pieces a man might not know of himself. Perhaps it’s that he keeps brushing up against.
He has no idea who he is these days.
But the thoughts are thick and fleeting. He moans again, bracing harder, and there’s a whine in his voice. He could finish like this, if Sylvain wanted him to, but the capable way he keeps adding more, winding everything together in a way Basch knows he could never pull off in return. He thinks he can read what Sylvain wants too. ]
You are…going to know every inch of me…better than I know myself—Sylvain.
[ His weight shifts forward, straining against the others hold as he scrabbles again to for the other, gasping. Precum wets his head, and his breathing is hitched. ]
[ He smiles against the back of Basch's shoulder before he lets his teeth nip lightly at the skin there. Letting him feel the edge of it. Still working his fingers deep, he stretches him until he's confident Basch will be able to take him. It will still be a stretch, but it's as much as his fingers can do for now. ]
I am fairly fluent, it's true. Don't worry, I have no intention of stopping until you paint that mirror with proof of your pleasure.
[ He withdraws his fingers from the man's body, sparing a moment to generously slick his own aching cock before shifting his pose. Hand wrapped around the base of his own cock to maneuver easier, he lets the thick head rub over that hole, still tight and clenching at the teasing. Or maybe the emptiness, now that his fingers aren't buried deep. He gives Basch a moment to realize that's not his fingers anymore for himself, before shifting forward and starting to press into his tight body with a strained sound muffled against the back of the man's shoulder. ]
I guess we'll see how well I can read you until then.
[ He feels oddly reprimanded. Had he misunderstood what he was supposed to say? Or was Sylvain still teasing? This was why he usually didn’t bother speaking.
The odd feeling is overshadowed with the promise of making him cum in a public place like this, leaving a mess too. The only reason he doesn’t protest is the nature of the hotel; he’s sure they’re meant to be doing this, based on the reflections, and the fact that Sylvain could now easily make him, even with his reservations holding him back, is enough to make him moan. The sound turns to protest as the fingers slip away, and he’s tempted to reach down and touch his aching cock.
Again Sylvain shows his mastery of this, pressing against him and waiting, letting him adjust and anticipate. He’s awed at the way the other man keeps the pace without ever making him feel rushed.
It’s the sound that undoes him, the vulnerability and want in it, the way Sylvain muffles it into his shoulder. Basch has to concentrate to try to stay loose. Sylvain is large, and even with warming up, this will be a challenge. That makes him want, though, even when he thinks he can’t want more. Has he ever been this attracted to someone? It’s been so long… ]
[ It had definitely still been a tease, but he supposes it’s easier for him not to be as clear when he’s a little distracted by the feel of Basch’s body so tight around his cock. He gives him a moment to adjust - both of them, if he’s honest, his breathing a touch ragged where his lips press to the back of the man’s shoulder still. But he doesn’t drag it out too long. Needs to move, needs to feel Basch’s tight heat as he rocks his hips, sinking deeper into the way the man’s body shudders and grips him greedily.
At that invitation, he chuckles, sucking redness into the flesh beneath his lips. Another visible claim left in Basch’s skin as he works his way deeper with deliberate persistence. One hand still grips the man’s hips to hold him right where he wants him while the other still has fingers curled around his wrist, keeping that arm pinned and his torso pressed to the cool reflection of the mirrored wall.
He doesn’t touch Basch’s cock, not yet. He might not even have to, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. ]
That could be a very long time, Basch. [ The man’s name is a soft purr on his tongue, smile audible in his voice. His hips rock a little sharper, changing the angle, hoping to rub up against his prostate on that next thrust. ] I’ll likely want to play with you as long as you want to be played with. And I think you very much enjoyed being played with like this. You’re still so tight for me, even after taking my fingers. But I can feel how much you want it.
[ Basch’s knees threaten to buckle and he finds himself having to focus on bracing to keep them both upright. He whimpers in needy pleasure as he gives in to the onslaught of sensation, not the least of which is the hitch in Sylvain’s breathing or the way the man steers them both to a beneficial angle.
His words, though, send an odd pricking through him. He almost throws them off, the automatic whisper that this is just what people say, that circumstances will change so at the ready. But…
But he doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants Sylvain to keep him a good long while, and to feel confident in the arrangement, and he moans at the thought and moans at the fresh mark on his skin because it certainly seems like that’s an option in a way it never was at home. He doesn’t know why it’s so much easier to admit here. Was it the time in prison? The fact that he could not cause harm to Sylvain’s status? This place’s tricks? He didn’t know, but in that moment, he felt incredibly grateful that this could even be happening. He doesn’t understand what Sylvain is drawn to, but he understands that he is, and that’s more than enough. ]
I want…you. I don’t want to — ngh — stop wanting you. Fuck. [ His voice cracks, entire body shuddering and tryin to slump forward as Sylvain hits his prostate. The precum on his head smears the spotless cold wall, and already the early shudder of imminent release pulses through him, making him dizzy. ]
[ His chuckle is purred against Basch’s ear as he speeds his pace, feeling the way the other man has started to shudder. He’s tightening around Sylvain’s cock, which makes the friction all the more delicious. He knows he won’t be far behind, not with how good he feels, and Sylvain rocks into him, deep and rough. Not quite a brutal pace, but pointed enough as he chases his pleasure.
His hand releases Basch’s hip to wind around his front, wrapping calloused fingers around the man’s cock, stroking him in time to the thrust of his hips. Giving him something to rut into as Sylvain fucks into him behind. It’s fast and rough and tantalizing and while it has all the appearance of Sylvain taking, just like the reflection had shown, he makes sure to drag Basch right along with him. ]
Let me feel you come undone, Basch. Let me feel you tight and trembling around me before I fill you up.
Yes, yes [ equal parts obedience and the affirmation of how much he’s enjoying this. he’s completely lost to whimpering moans now, a plea of Sylvain’s name peppered throughout. The rough stinging pace of the other inside him is more than enough to send waves of heat through him, but with those words and Sylvain’s hand coming to meet him, he’s helpless to do anything other than whine and rut needily, chasing the overwhelming combination of sensations.
It’s not long before his breath catches as a tightening whimper, body jerking and going rigid until he stops breathing, flat back against Sylvain and crying out as his seed pumps from him, dripping down the wall panel as he gasps and struggles to stay upright. It still feels so good though, and he grunts, shifting to hold himself agains the bar and bend so Sylvain’s angle is even smoother, expecting the other man needs a little more speed to finish. The thought of both their cum running down him is enough to make him moan again, still s’enrichir cock twitching as though it could go again so soon. ]
[ The sound Sylvain makes as Basch clenches tight around him and comes is lost somewhere between a strained moan and a breathless cry. He’s so tight, and then the angle changes, and his own pace speeds as a result.
It only takes a few more sharp thrusts into the man’s trembling body before his own pleasure crests and he tenses and spills inside of him with a low curse hissed out between his teeth, hands clenching at Basch’s hips to hold him right there, because he was perfect.
Gasping for air, he slumps forward against Basch’s back slightly, one hand going to brace his weight against the wall, just to make sure he didn’t put it all on the other man, who seemed just as breathless and unsteady as he felt. ]
Goddess, you’re fucking perfect.
[ He murmurs the words against Basch’s back, even as he wraps his arms around him, keeps him warm against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Slow his racing pulse. Make sure his legs don’t give out beneath him, because that would just be inconvenient. And more than a little embarrassing. ]
[ climaxing under his touch was beautiful, but hearing the man hiss and curse and slacken against him with his orgasm is even headier. Between his gasping breaths and struggles to stay up right, he tilts his head back, resting it against Sylvain’s. He’s rewarded with arms around him, and he brings his up to rest gently across the other’s, fingers curling around his wrist as his thumb absently strokes the back of a hand.
He might not agree he’s perfect, but right now, he believes that Sylvain thinks he is, and that knowledge fills him with something at once buoyant as air and grounding as roots. ]
[ Sylvain smiles against the back of his shoulder, holding him close as they both catch their breaths.
Which is, of course, when the elevator door dings and slides open behind them, prompting a chuckle from the redhead as he glances over his shoulder.
Luckily, the gardens up here look pretty empty right now - he’d assumed everyone would be at the masquerade and it looked as if he were right. ]
Come on. Let’s see if we can go find a quiet corner somewhere before someone else needs to use the elevator.
[ Even if that back wall… is very telling of what they’d been up to. He just smirks, however, as he straightens and releases his grip on Basch’s arm. ]
[ Basch privately suspects the elevator somehow knew to wait until they’d finished, but he is not opposed to its choice and so he says nothing. If anything, he hopes it somehow cleans itself before someone else steps in. But the thrill it might now is still a thrill.
He’s reluctant to leave Sylvain’s hold, but there’s no protest; he trusts this night isn’t finished, and he would rather enjoy it more comfortably. The gardens smell sweet and earthy and that puts him at ease, even if walking naked in semi public is still enough to make him shy. But there’s no real use getting dressed again, and this place is full of oddness. So he uses his discarded shirt to clean himself off, then is following after Sylvain, the odd desire to take the other’s hand skimming across his mind. He doesn’t act on it, but he does tuck it away, something strange and unfathomable and oddly precious. ]
[ Sylvain had bent to scoop up his own clothes and had turned to offer something to Basch to help clean up when he saw he was already too late. Grinning sheepishly, he just tucks them under one arm instead and steps out into the massive stretch of gardens that extend under a domed skiy. At least he thinks that’s the sky. With the magic in this place, who knows? ]]
It is. It’s also much larger than I thought it would be. Although I guess that shouldn’t surprise me, considering this place. Everything here seems designed to be big and flashy.
[ He glances back over his shoulder at Basch and then grins before holding out his free hand in invitation. ]
Shall we go explore for a bit? It’s quiet enough that we might have the whole place to ourselves right now.
[ Basch does rescue the pants, if only because he will have to return through the hotel at some point, but the shirt only comes with him to be a further cleaning aid.
He looks up, unsure what to make of Sylvain’s sheepish grin. He hasn’t connected it to the desire to offer aid, and so he wonders if he’s done something odd; he hasn’t seen anything remotely like shyness on the other man. Puzzled, but loathe to make it worse, he just follows Sylvain out. The other man’s comment draws his attention to the sky dome. Beautiful. But something in him still feels wrong. Trapped. A prison is a prison, and the air doesn’t move right. He won’t say it though. What he does say is ]
The building is enormous across, so it follows the gardens would be large.
[ And then he’s glancing back at Sylvain, more interested in that view, and his brow is twisting, lips parting. He looks at Sylvain’s hand in confusion, gaze darting back to his face in question. There’s just a smile there.
Were the rules just different where Sylvain was from? Or — he realizes his heart is beating faster — was whatever that deeper, messier thing he was feeling…mutual?
He wants to shake his head, write it off, hide from the vulnerability that if he accepts, he can be so much more hurt. But—
But he doesn’t. Almost like someone else is reaching in and steering, he sets his hand in Sylvain’s. His smile, though, small and sheepish as it is, is all his. It takes all his not-small a line of self restraint not to say anything stupid, which essentially means limiting himself in words altogether. ]
[ Sylvain just waits, hand outstretched as Basch struggles with the decision to take it or not. He’s patient about it, though, not wanting to put too much pressure on the other man. Although he wonders if that was a step too far.
Which seems a silly thing to wonder when he’d been buried in the man’s ass a minute ago.
The rules are slightly different where he comes from. While it’s not as common, it’s also not unheard of. Although he, being of the noble class and a Crest bearer to boot, might incite scandal over preferences leaning that way. At least until he safely had an heir to secure his lineage. Then he was pretty sure no one gave a damn about anything past that. It was yet one more way those lucky enough to be born without a Crest had a freedom he could rarely dream of, and one they so often took for granted.
But he doesn’t dwell on it now. Not when Basch finally comes to a decision and slips his hand into Sylvain’s He gives the man’s fingers a light squeeze before tugging him closer, falling into step at his side and keeping their fingers entwined for now.
He lets his gaze drift around them as they wander - aimlessly for the moment, although that’s mostly because he’s never been here before and has no idea where they’re going. But while he thinks he sees a glimpse of a familiar piece of greenery every now and then, many of the plants here seem foreign to him. ]
Are the plants in your world like this? [ he wonders aloud after a moment, glancing over as he gestures to the greenery around them. ]
[ it’s that sensitivity to what Basch may or may not be ready for that’s making this possible, even if Basch hasn’t put his finger on it yet. He is not so skittish he will run regardless, but he is skittish enough to spook. Time to make his own decision without pressure is a godsend. Because thus far, this has been worth every discomfort and risk.
He’s further surprised as Sylvain squeezes his hand and slides in close beside him, but he manages to simply squeeze back and fall in step. If pressed, Basch wouldn’t know how common or uncommon this was at home. He just knew members of his rank were not to fraternize with each other, and so everything was secret, always someone asking him to bend so they could keep from breaking. And he always did. They had to win their battles, win the war so they could have peace. This was…different.
The question is a relief. Safe. ]
Some species seem familiar, at least in family. But I have traveled desert, tundra, jungle, plains, and forest. I wonder if certain climates don’t produce certain form, regardless of world.
[ He gives a thoughtful hum as he glances over to study Basch curiously at that answer. ]
That might be true enough, I suppose. I haven’t seen nearly as much of the other regions in my world as I have my own territory, and those neighboring it. [ Excluding his time at the Academy, anyway. And the war had kept him too occupied to travel much for pleasure for the past several years. ] You’ve traveled extensively, from the sound of it?
[ His voice and expression are strained, hand tightening without his realizing. Then his actions catch up with him, and he tries to smile. ]
My country was conquered when I was still a youth. I moved to an allied territory, but the war was still on, and I often served on sensitive missions. My latest duty had sent me even farther afield. I am not sure I’d consider myself well traveled; cultural differences elude me, and I am a man of simple tastes.
[ He looks around them, feeling his spirit ease in the presence of nature. It’s something he’s always sought solace in. ] I do enjoy the landscape, and I know the basics of medicinal herbs.
[ Sylvain’s pace pauses, hesitates as he glances over at Basch, understanding in his gaze. But he continues on, not wanting to stop, not wanting to drag out a painful moment if Basch doesn’t wish to dwell. This doesn’t seem the time, not after they night they've had together. He doesn’t want to drag shadows into it now. ]
I’m sorry. [ His voice is sincere - both over what Basch had endured for most of his life, and the fact that he’d accidentally reminded him of darker times in the first place. ] My own realm has been caught up in war for the past half-decade or so and I’ve spent most of it keeping the Empire from invading our lands, even as they encroached ever further. Any dreams I’d had for seeing more of the world after my days at the Academy got stomped underfoot like so much of our Kingdom.
[ An explanation - not to keep the topic dark, but to show he understood, in a way. Maybe not to the extent that Basch had endured, but war was terrible, no matter what.
But he smiles a bit at the mention of herbs, something he was familiar with as well. ] I had a friend who was very knowledgable about plants and gardening. Things that were used for cooking, for spices, for medicines. I used to escape there to hide, back in our Academy days, because it was always quiet, and he would sometimes tell me about them while I worked beside him.
[ Dedue’s quiet strength had been a lifesaver in and of itself. Basch reminded Sylvain of him, a little. ]
[ It isn't your fault is a useless dismissal, especially when he sees how sincere Sylvain's offering is. He has no more desire to cast a shadow on their evening than the other man. He listens though, his hand coming to briefly squeeze the other's arm. ]
You understand, then. It consumes you; how can it not? I wish you peace and travels upon your return.
[ It's out before he thinks better, leaving an odd taste. He means it, of course, but if he does, then it wishes whatever this is to either run its course, or to be a painful loss. Was that not the fate of all trysts, though? Basch had said he would consider love and family and home when the Empire was defeated, and that was twenty years ago.
Sylvain, thankfully, is more facile with conversation than he is, and seizes an opportunity to adjust. ] Funny how those of us who like plants and rocks have a tendency for quiet. Something you enjoy, though do not share, it would seem.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Gods, though. He doesn't know what to do with having his ass teased like he's the night's entertainment while being told he's-- he's--
He can't even get the thought out. He just breaths shallowly, leaning his forehead against the cool wall. He doesn't believe Sylvain, but he doesn't think him a liar either. It's two truths he can't reconcile, and so his mind wants to be somewhere else. All he can conclude is that he's strange, a diversion, already retreating from the very real approval he's seen again and again in Sylvain. But that's alright. He's hungry to be used like this, and Sylvain is pleased by it. That is enough. ]
You were patient, then [ he says. ] Those who decided to partake from me in the past never suffered waiting. [ Or risking sharing. Even as he says it, though, his body shudders again at the slow but constant pace of teasing his backside, and the memory of Sylvain's cock in his mouth is bright in his mind. ]
no subject
[ There's a chuckle in his voice as he leans in to press against Basch's back once more. While one hand keeps him pinned, he uses his weight to help, even as the other finally presses a finger into him, testing how tight he is, testing the pace he needs to go here to prepare the man's body for what is to come.
If the man takes it easily, he'll add a second finger almost right away, but if it feels like he needs a slower approach in stretching these muscles, Sylvain doesn't mind taking his time either. Working his fingers deep, letting the oil ease his way as he works those muscles loose and relaxed for him. Sylvain is not a small man and he wants to make sure there's no pain when he does finally slide into Basch's eager body.
And if his fingers seek out and purposefully brush over a sensitive bundle of nerves in the process, all the better. ]
And you've never taken someone like me before.
no subject
[ His voice is low, breathy, but that he's talking this much at all is a testament to that constant something that has him off kilter with Sylvain.
It's true as ever; he's poor enough at lying when he can focus, and gods help him if he needed to now. His whimpering groan is languid, relaxed even. It's been a long time since he's done this, but there's an undeniable trust here that makes it easy just listen to his body and bask in the intensity of sensation. Fortunate, because he remembers quite well that Sylvain was damn near too much for his throat. Not that that's going to stop him.
Some of those sounds become sharper, muscles clenching and releasing as Sylvain finds more sensitive purchase. He gasps out the other's name, pinned hand reaching for the other as his other fist clenches. It feels oddly intimate to call for him, no title and no plea. ]
No. I -- hngh -- certainly have not.
no subject
[ It's not, and he knows that. Can tell how in how Basch's body responds to him, relaxes and then clenches whenever he brushes over his prostate. The sound of his name gasped, the feeling of the hand pinned behind the man's back scrabbling for purchase. ]
Or should we try for more?
[ Really, that had been a rhetorical question because, having decided the two digits were now moving easily enough, he adds a third to stretching wider still. Scissoring them within him, crooking them slightly as he drags them back out again. While he's not exactly taking his time, he is certainly being thorough. ]
no subject
Still. Something in him balks. He knows Sylvain could hurt him, knows this person is a stranger, knows there's danger. ]
What if -- I had said it was too much?
[ It's not. It's slow and measured and knowing and that's why he's having such an easy time of this. But asking brushes up against that muddle of fear and desire to be overpowered, and -- that other thing. Whatever it is he keeps brushing up against but cannot name. ]
no subject
I would have known you were lying. Your body was already telling me the answer I needed to hear. If it was too much, you wouldn't be chasing my fingers, reluctant to release me. Those pretty moans of yours would hold a different note - but no, all they hold is pleasure. Hunger.
Mouths lie. [ A scrape of teeth now, the tease of a brief bite before he soothes over the spot with his tongue again. ] Bodies rarely do. They hold a language all their own.
no subject
[ neither of them can deny the effect Sylvain’s words and steady touch continue to have on him, that rigidness he carries melting into something much more pliable and accommodating.
He’s getting more accustomed to the heady mix of shame and breathlessness at being so accurately read and closely observed. It’s a strange thing, to be kept by someone else. Sexually, yes, but to be held in some level of accurate image in their eyes, their vantage point showing them pieces a man might not know of himself. Perhaps it’s that he keeps brushing up against.
He has no idea who he is these days.
But the thoughts are thick and fleeting. He moans again, bracing harder, and there’s a whine in his voice. He could finish like this, if Sylvain wanted him to, but the capable way he keeps adding more, winding everything together in a way Basch knows he could never pull off in return. He thinks he can read what Sylvain wants too. ]
You are…going to know every inch of me…better than I know myself—Sylvain.
[ His weight shifts forward, straining against the others hold as he scrabbles again to for the other, gasping. Precum wets his head, and his breathing is hitched. ]
Don’t stop.
no subject
I am fairly fluent, it's true. Don't worry, I have no intention of stopping until you paint that mirror with proof of your pleasure.
[ He withdraws his fingers from the man's body, sparing a moment to generously slick his own aching cock before shifting his pose. Hand wrapped around the base of his own cock to maneuver easier, he lets the thick head rub over that hole, still tight and clenching at the teasing. Or maybe the emptiness, now that his fingers aren't buried deep. He gives Basch a moment to realize that's not his fingers anymore for himself, before shifting forward and starting to press into his tight body with a strained sound muffled against the back of the man's shoulder. ]
I guess we'll see how well I can read you until then.
no subject
The odd feeling is overshadowed with the promise of making him cum in a public place like this, leaving a mess too. The only reason he doesn’t protest is the nature of the hotel; he’s sure they’re meant to be doing this, based on the reflections, and the fact that Sylvain could now easily make him, even with his reservations holding him back, is enough to make him moan. The sound turns to protest as the fingers slip away, and he’s tempted to reach down and touch his aching cock.
Again Sylvain shows his mastery of this, pressing against him and waiting, letting him adjust and anticipate. He’s awed at the way the other man keeps the pace without ever making him feel rushed.
It’s the sound that undoes him, the vulnerability and want in it, the way Sylvain muffles it into his shoulder. Basch has to concentrate to try to stay loose. Sylvain is large, and even with warming up, this will be a challenge. That makes him want, though, even when he thinks he can’t want more. Has he ever been this attracted to someone? It’s been so long… ]
I’m yours to play with as long as you’ll have me.
no subject
At that invitation, he chuckles, sucking redness into the flesh beneath his lips. Another visible claim left in Basch’s skin as he works his way deeper with deliberate persistence. One hand still grips the man’s hips to hold him right where he wants him while the other still has fingers curled around his wrist, keeping that arm pinned and his torso pressed to the cool reflection of the mirrored wall.
He doesn’t touch Basch’s cock, not yet. He might not even have to, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. ]
That could be a very long time, Basch. [ The man’s name is a soft purr on his tongue, smile audible in his voice. His hips rock a little sharper, changing the angle, hoping to rub up against his prostate on that next thrust. ] I’ll likely want to play with you as long as you want to be played with. And I think you very much enjoyed being played with like this. You’re still so tight for me, even after taking my fingers. But I can feel how much you want it.
no subject
His words, though, send an odd pricking through him. He almost throws them off, the automatic whisper that this is just what people say, that circumstances will change so at the ready. But…
But he doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants Sylvain to keep him a good long while, and to feel confident in the arrangement, and he moans at the thought and moans at the fresh mark on his skin because it certainly seems like that’s an option in a way it never was at home. He doesn’t know why it’s so much easier to admit here. Was it the time in prison? The fact that he could not cause harm to Sylvain’s status? This place’s tricks? He didn’t know, but in that moment, he felt incredibly grateful that this could even be happening. He doesn’t understand what Sylvain is drawn to, but he understands that he is, and that’s more than enough. ]
I want…you. I don’t want to — ngh — stop wanting you. Fuck. [ His voice cracks, entire body shuddering and tryin to slump forward as Sylvain hits his prostate. The precum on his head smears the spotless cold wall, and already the early shudder of imminent release pulses through him, making him dizzy. ]
no subject
[ His chuckle is purred against Basch’s ear as he speeds his pace, feeling the way the other man has started to shudder. He’s tightening around Sylvain’s cock, which makes the friction all the more delicious. He knows he won’t be far behind, not with how good he feels, and Sylvain rocks into him, deep and rough. Not quite a brutal pace, but pointed enough as he chases his pleasure.
His hand releases Basch’s hip to wind around his front, wrapping calloused fingers around the man’s cock, stroking him in time to the thrust of his hips. Giving him something to rut into as Sylvain fucks into him behind. It’s fast and rough and tantalizing and while it has all the appearance of Sylvain taking, just like the reflection had shown, he makes sure to drag Basch right along with him. ]
Let me feel you come undone, Basch. Let me feel you tight and trembling around me before I fill you up.
no subject
It’s not long before his breath catches as a tightening whimper, body jerking and going rigid until he stops breathing, flat back against Sylvain and crying out as his seed pumps from him, dripping down the wall panel as he gasps and struggles to stay upright. It still feels so good though, and he grunts, shifting to hold himself agains the bar and bend so Sylvain’s angle is even smoother, expecting the other man needs a little more speed to finish. The thought of both their cum running down him is enough to make him moan again, still s’enrichir cock twitching as though it could go again so soon. ]
no subject
It only takes a few more sharp thrusts into the man’s trembling body before his own pleasure crests and he tenses and spills inside of him with a low curse hissed out between his teeth, hands clenching at Basch’s hips to hold him right there, because he was perfect.
Gasping for air, he slumps forward against Basch’s back slightly, one hand going to brace his weight against the wall, just to make sure he didn’t put it all on the other man, who seemed just as breathless and unsteady as he felt. ]
Goddess, you’re fucking perfect.
[ He murmurs the words against Basch’s back, even as he wraps his arms around him, keeps him warm against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Slow his racing pulse. Make sure his legs don’t give out beneath him, because that would just be inconvenient. And more than a little embarrassing. ]
no subject
He might not agree he’s perfect, but right now, he believes that Sylvain thinks he is, and that knowledge fills him with something at once buoyant as air and grounding as roots. ]
I would say the same of you.
no subject
Which is, of course, when the elevator door dings and slides open behind them, prompting a chuckle from the redhead as he glances over his shoulder.
Luckily, the gardens up here look pretty empty right now - he’d assumed everyone would be at the masquerade and it looked as if he were right. ]
Come on. Let’s see if we can go find a quiet corner somewhere before someone else needs to use the elevator.
[ Even if that back wall… is very telling of what they’d been up to. He just smirks, however, as he straightens and releases his grip on Basch’s arm. ]
no subject
He’s reluctant to leave Sylvain’s hold, but there’s no protest; he trusts this night isn’t finished, and he would rather enjoy it more comfortably. The gardens smell sweet and earthy and that puts him at ease, even if walking naked in semi public is still enough to make him shy. But there’s no real use getting dressed again, and this place is full of oddness. So he uses his discarded shirt to clean himself off, then is following after Sylvain, the odd desire to take the other’s hand skimming across his mind. He doesn’t act on it, but he does tuck it away, something strange and unfathomable and oddly precious. ]
It’s beautiful up here. Quiet.
no subject
It is. It’s also much larger than I thought it would be. Although I guess that shouldn’t surprise me, considering this place. Everything here seems designed to be big and flashy.
[ He glances back over his shoulder at Basch and then grins before holding out his free hand in invitation. ]
Shall we go explore for a bit? It’s quiet enough that we might have the whole place to ourselves right now.
no subject
He looks up, unsure what to make of Sylvain’s sheepish grin. He hasn’t connected it to the desire to offer aid, and so he wonders if he’s done something odd; he hasn’t seen anything remotely like shyness on the other man. Puzzled, but loathe to make it worse, he just follows Sylvain out. The other man’s comment draws his attention to the sky dome. Beautiful. But something in him still feels wrong. Trapped. A prison is a prison, and the air doesn’t move right. He won’t say it though. What he does say is ]
The building is enormous across, so it follows the gardens would be large.
[ And then he’s glancing back at Sylvain, more interested in that view, and his brow is twisting, lips parting. He looks at Sylvain’s hand in confusion, gaze darting back to his face in question. There’s just a smile there.
Were the rules just different where Sylvain was from? Or — he realizes his heart is beating faster — was whatever that deeper, messier thing he was feeling…mutual?
He wants to shake his head, write it off, hide from the vulnerability that if he accepts, he can be so much more hurt. But—
But he doesn’t. Almost like someone else is reaching in and steering, he sets his hand in Sylvain’s. His smile, though, small and sheepish as it is, is all his. It takes all his not-small a line of self restraint not to say anything stupid, which essentially means limiting himself in words altogether. ]
Yes. I’d like that.
no subject
Which seems a silly thing to wonder when he’d been buried in the man’s ass a minute ago.
The rules are slightly different where he comes from. While it’s not as common, it’s also not unheard of. Although he, being of the noble class and a Crest bearer to boot, might incite scandal over preferences leaning that way. At least until he safely had an heir to secure his lineage. Then he was pretty sure no one gave a damn about anything past that. It was yet one more way those lucky enough to be born without a Crest had a freedom he could rarely dream of, and one they so often took for granted.
But he doesn’t dwell on it now. Not when Basch finally comes to a decision and slips his hand into Sylvain’s He gives the man’s fingers a light squeeze before tugging him closer, falling into step at his side and keeping their fingers entwined for now.
He lets his gaze drift around them as they wander - aimlessly for the moment, although that’s mostly because he’s never been here before and has no idea where they’re going. But while he thinks he sees a glimpse of a familiar piece of greenery every now and then, many of the plants here seem foreign to him. ]
Are the plants in your world like this? [ he wonders aloud after a moment, glancing over as he gestures to the greenery around them. ]
no subject
He’s further surprised as Sylvain squeezes his hand and slides in close beside him, but he manages to simply squeeze back and fall in step. If pressed, Basch wouldn’t know how common or uncommon this was at home. He just knew members of his rank were not to fraternize with each other, and so everything was secret, always someone asking him to bend so they could keep from breaking. And he always did. They had to win their battles, win the war so they could have peace. This was…different.
The question is a relief. Safe. ]
Some species seem familiar, at least in family. But I have traveled desert, tundra, jungle, plains, and forest. I wonder if certain climates don’t produce certain form, regardless of world.
no subject
That might be true enough, I suppose. I haven’t seen nearly as much of the other regions in my world as I have my own territory, and those neighboring it. [ Excluding his time at the Academy, anyway. And the war had kept him too occupied to travel much for pleasure for the past several years. ] You’ve traveled extensively, from the sound of it?
no subject
[ His voice and expression are strained, hand tightening without his realizing. Then his actions catch up with him, and he tries to smile. ]
My country was conquered when I was still a youth. I moved to an allied territory, but the war was still on, and I often served on sensitive missions. My latest duty had sent me even farther afield. I am not sure I’d consider myself well traveled; cultural differences elude me, and I am a man of simple tastes.
[ He looks around them, feeling his spirit ease in the presence of nature. It’s something he’s always sought solace in. ] I do enjoy the landscape, and I know the basics of medicinal herbs.
no subject
I’m sorry. [ His voice is sincere - both over what Basch had endured for most of his life, and the fact that he’d accidentally reminded him of darker times in the first place. ] My own realm has been caught up in war for the past half-decade or so and I’ve spent most of it keeping the Empire from invading our lands, even as they encroached ever further. Any dreams I’d had for seeing more of the world after my days at the Academy got stomped underfoot like so much of our Kingdom.
[ An explanation - not to keep the topic dark, but to show he understood, in a way. Maybe not to the extent that Basch had endured, but war was terrible, no matter what.
But he smiles a bit at the mention of herbs, something he was familiar with as well. ] I had a friend who was very knowledgable about plants and gardening. Things that were used for cooking, for spices, for medicines. I used to escape there to hide, back in our Academy days, because it was always quiet, and he would sometimes tell me about them while I worked beside him.
[ Dedue’s quiet strength had been a lifesaver in and of itself. Basch reminded Sylvain of him, a little. ]
no subject
You understand, then. It consumes you; how can it not? I wish you peace and travels upon your return.
[ It's out before he thinks better, leaving an odd taste. He means it, of course, but if he does, then it wishes whatever this is to either run its course, or to be a painful loss. Was that not the fate of all trysts, though? Basch had said he would consider love and family and home when the Empire was defeated, and that was twenty years ago.
Sylvain, thankfully, is more facile with conversation than he is, and seizes an opportunity to adjust. ] Funny how those of us who like plants and rocks have a tendency for quiet. Something you enjoy, though do not share, it would seem.
[ It's a warm observation, teasing even. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
ty for the beautiful setting description
I hope it works! feel free to add whatever you want or what might useful/fun ;)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
some day he'll make a decision off the bat. not today.
It’s a work in progress ;)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)