He bites his lip, failing to completely hide a mischievous smile at Byleth's question. Honestly, he isn't quite sure how much of what he's just said was bullshit to get what he wanted -which was most definitely a distraction and hopefully not spending the night alone- and what was just complete lies. He does feel a small pang of guilt afterward, maybe he'd laid things on a little heavy, but it doesn't change what he wants.
"I would," He nods in response, slipping his gloves off deftly and letting them drop off the side of the bed so he can thread his fingers through Byleth's hair. Luckily for both of them, he'd already doffed his armor, his heavy winter overshirt hanging loose and open despite the cold weather, leaving an almost perfect pillow of soft fur for Byleth to rest his head against. At least that part isn't a lie. If they're going to die tomorrow, he'd rather die having kissed Byleth again, maybe spent the night with him.
Well... however much of it is BS or not, Byleth can't help but agree. This is not unwelcome. The fur against his face is soft and the feeling of hands carding through his hair is oddly far more comforting than he would have banked on. He pushes close, drawn in by the man's warmth and the security he offers.
"Then you may kiss me as much as you like tonight." He presses his lips to Sylvain's cheek. "And as much as you like thereafter so long as you survive. So you had better survive."
He's not taking any of that self-sacrificial doom talk, sir.
"Just tonight?" He asked with a hint of mischief, eyebrow arching, "Ah, yeah, I guess, I better."
He turns into the brush of lips against his cheek, catching Byleth in another kiss, parting his lips to deepen it. There's a level of desperation whispering behind his actions, a need for distraction and connection. He just wants to feel human without having to think about all the things they need to do, even just tomorrow feels overwhelming when he thinks about it too much and a night alone meant hours of thinking.
He presses aggressively into the kiss, taking what he needs, fingers tangling into Byleth's hair until he has to break the kiss, panting.
"Fuck. Sorry," He mumbles breathlessly. Was that too much? Too fast?
Oh that's a hell of a kiss. He opens easily to it, he lets Sylvain take, groaning into his mouth, acquiescing to that level of want and need. He pulls away and apologizes, and that's enough to make Byleth visibly roll his eyes.
No, hardly.
He twists enough to shove him down on the bed, crushing their lips together again in a devouring kiss, a hand sliding down to press against his chest. He does not do anything in half-measures, let it be known, Gautier. He shivers at the feeling of their tongues sliding together again, deep and shameless.
"No apologies." He says, a little breathless when he breaks away, one hand fisted in Sylvain's shirt.
His back hits the mattress and he can't help but huff softly in laughter, the sound quickly cut off and smothered as Byleth presses into another bruising kiss that has him groaning this time, heated and needy. His lips part, tongue sliding against Byleth's as his hand finds its way into his hair, fingers tangling as they curl to draw him closer.
"Okay," He exhales in reply breathlessly before tilting his head to catch Byleth's lower lips between his teeth, just this side of rough before he sucks on them.
Sliding his hand from Byleth's hair, he moves to his shirt, tugging him down, their mouths hitting too hard, lips and teeth colliding, but he doesn't care. Parting his lips into the kiss again, he pushes at Byleth's shirt, haphazardly working his way past buttons so his fingers can graze skin.
The kisses are still almost frantic, like one or both of them might die. He cant seem to get enough of that clever mouth. To want and to be wanted like this is a strange kind of beauty. He can feel those fingers brush against his skin, and he breaks away long enough to pull off his shirt and guide Sylvain's hands to his bare skin.
He doesn't waste any time getting back to those needy kisses though. His own hands sliding down, diving his fingers just under the waistband of Sylvain's pants, teasing at the rise of his hip bones.
"I think," He says between kisses, "You should get naked for me."
He hadn’t realized how touch starved he was, how desperately he wanted to consume any little sliver of attention Byleth was willing to impart to him. A few years of constant fighting, constant marching, it shouldn’t shock him as much as it does but he doesn’t like this level of desperation, it feels too much like a loss of control. But he needs this, is aching for even the briefest contact. And the promise of being consumed, a sweet escape from everything else, even if only for a little while, was maddening alluring.
He arches into his touch with a soft groan, his own fingers working Byleth's shirt open, eager to fan his fingers out over more skin.
"You think so?" He asks breathlessly with a heated smirk, hands already moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off. There's a collage of old and new wounds, mostly bruises, though there are a few crudely sewn up cuts and healed scars. If any of them are bothering Sylvain at the moment, he certainly isn't acknowledging them. After his shirt, he quickly moves on to his pants, pulling the ties that held them in place loose. Lifting his hips slightly, he starts to slip his pants down.
Sylvain obliges him, and as soon as the shirt is out of his way, Byleth takes a moment to run his hands up his body, leaning down to kiss and mouth against some of those scars. He helps him pull his pants off, discarding them to the floor. He shucks his own shirt as well. Not quite so scraped up as Sylvain is, but Byleth shows the same signs of battle across his skin. Leaning down to catch him in another kiss, and to enjoy the press of skin against skin. There are still a few things in the way though, so when he pulls himself away, Sylvain's smallclothes are being tugged down his hips and legs, leaving him bare.
The professor pauses for a moment to take him in. Again his hands glide against him, fingers tracing over his hips, dipping low to squeeze his thighs. The hungry look on his face says enough. Right. Time to cover him in kisses.
Sylvain's hands almost bump into Byleth's as they both eagerly reach out to touch the other again and the little blunder makes him smile warmly before he's caught up in another kiss. Palms flat, he runs his hands up Byleth's chest, tracing scars and pausing to flick over a nipple.
His muscles tighten and shift under Byleth's hands as he half sits up to chase after Byleth as he eases back, stealing another quick kiss and a light nip before laying back again.
Craning his head, he watches Byleth's hands trail over his marred skin, back and then hips arching up slightly into the touch. He's half hard, getting firmer as Byleth all but kneads his thighs and he has to bite his lip as he reaches out to comb his fingers through his hair.
"Beautiful." The only word that he utters at the moment, letting his hands roam Sylvain's body until one finally settles on his cock, stroking him gently, examining his face as he does.
He takes just a moment to free himself from the rest of his own clothes, returning to slowly lay himself against the other man. Cocks brushing against each other, and the warm, soft feeling of a bare body against his own. He shivers, rolling his body against Sylvain's, relishing in the simple feeling of that sensation, trying to memorize it now. A warm memory for a cold night. He does eventually peel himself away again so he can lazily kiss his way down, a meandering trail that eventually leaves him pressing a kiss to the tip of Sylvain's length before ever-so-slowly taking it into his mouth.
He has no control over the flush that sweeps across his face and chest at the unexpected compliment. Sure, he tries to look presentable, maybe even handsome, for people but he's usually the one dishing out the compliments. And, for whatever reason, he'd mostly assumed Byleth was going along with his advances out of loneliness, maybe? Necessity? Convenience? He was an available and willing body. He hadn't actually thought that Byleth found him attractive.
Sylvain's eyes linger on Byleth, watching him with a heated gaze as he strips his clothes off, revealing skin that Sylvain feels his fingers aching to touch. To taste. Mark.
He reaches out to meet Byleth as he presses close again, fingers fanning out and trailing over his body, strong, lean muscles under his hands. The feeling of their bodies meeting makes him inhale sharply as he rolls his hips to magnify that feeling, their cocks sliding against each other. A soft whine tickles the back of his throat when Byleth breaks the kiss and slips away, hands still running over his shoulders and through his hair even as he trails down his chest.
He slowly presses his tongue against the head of Sylvain's cock, wanting to hear more of those cute sounds. He imagines Sylvain is used to being in charge of these kinds of situations... so why not make him feel good? Let him relax for once. He slides further down, inch by inch, until he has the man fully in his mouth. Thankful that he has very little gag reflex to speak of anymore. This is a skill he has practiced, like any other, and it always seemed to be a hit with the partners he had taken in the past.
He looks up through his bangs, watching him, wanting to watch his face. Byleth enjoys knowing when he's making people happy. Smiles or otherwise. He slowly works him, very shallow bobs of his head that grow bit by bit into something more substantial.
"Ah~ Fuck," He exhales, shifting to resist the instinctive urge to buck up into the wet heat enveloping him. Tilting his head back as Byleth sinks down, he tangles his fingers into his hair, twisting them into a tight, almost desperate, hold though he doesn't move to guide him at all.
Sylvain bites his lip to hold back a groan as he tilts his head back up to watch once Byleth starts moving, cheeks flush with arousal.
"Goddess, you look so fucking good," His voice is a coarse whisper, thick with desire, eyes dark and heated as he watches.
The look on his face is worth it alone. Byleth however, also very much gets off on giving oral. He can't explain it. He just finds it incredibly satisfying. Everything from the sensation, knowing how much his partner is into it, to getting a mouthful of cum. He watches Sylvain from through his bangs, taking him all the way to the hilt again and again.
His hands gripping Sylvain's hips urge him to actually move them. To fuck his mouth properly. Another glance up, to make sure Sylvain understands what he's asking for.
His gaze slips upward to meet Byleth's and his heart leaps up into his throat for a moment, forcing him to swallow thickly. For a second, he's sure he's reading something into Byleth's expression that isn't there but then his hands slip to his hips like he's actually encouraging him to move.
Lips parted, he wets them as he rolls his hips up into Byleth's mouth experimentally, slow at first as he watched for a sign that he'd completely misread the situation. His gaze turns more heated when not only is there no resistance but Byleth seems to encourage and enjoy it. His thrusts grow bolder and deeper. The slowly increasing mess of saliva has him achingly hard, groaning as he slid past Byleth's lips with each thrust, brushing across the roof of his mouth and tongue to press into his throat.
"Ah, B, yes," He pants, pace quickening, skin starting to glint faintly from the sheen of perspiration.
Byleth moans around him when he starts to thrust like that. Yes. Yes. He loves being used like this. Hearing Sylvain pant and moan for him, because of him. Knowing the man has probably never been invited to do this to someone before.
He eagerly swallows him down, continuing to guide his hips with his hands, wanting for him to finish here. Byleth has plenty of energy for a few rounds, and this hardly takes any effort on his part, but simply helping the other man along.
He sucks hard every few thrusts, following Sylvain's rhythm, doing his best to flick his tongue over the head when he pulls out enough.
He feels the moan through his core, his fingers twitching in Byleth's hair, twisting to grip it tighter as his hips thrust up into his mouth. His breaths turn heavy and quick, thrusts stuttering slightly as his effort to keep his movement somewhat under control slips as he gets closer to orgasm.
He's so close and Byleth feels amazingly good. His control slips further with a particularly artful drag of Byleth's tongue and it sends him tumbling into a climax he hadn't really expected with no warning for Byleth, his hips stammering up to bury himself past Byleth's lips with a cutoff, gasped cry. Panting heavily, he looks down as he bites his lip, needing to see Byleth's face as he comes, running his fingers almost clumsily through his hair.
He doesn't strain against it at all. Encouraging Sylvain to give him everything. He moans around his cock, and honestly he really is getting off on this. He can feel Sylvain start to come plenty in advance. The twitch and pulse against his tongue is tell enough, and eventually he shoves himself in, and the Professor is drinking down everything he has to give, almost greedy for it. He looks up, catching the lancer's gaze as he finishes.
Pulling his mouth slowly away once he's sure there's nothing left. A thread of seed stretching from his lip as he lifts his head before it breaks, dripping down his chin. Without missing a beat, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, unable to keep a little smugness from his voice.
"Please," Wait, no, that hadn't been a yes or no question, "Uh... C'mere. I think better when my mouth is busy."
He smirks as he tugs Byleth toward him, half sitting up to meet him with a hungry kiss, lips parted immediately. It's messy and heated and, somehow, it does keep his thoughts on track.
"Bottom," He slid a hand between them, tracing the length of Byleth's cock before stroking him slowly a few times, "You already gave me my turn. Your's now."
He punctuates the sentiment by teasing the pad of his thumb of the head of his cock, teasing lightly and making a small mess of the beads of precum.
"D'you have oil here? If not, I bet there's still some in my old room," He chuckles.
He obliges Sylvain without a word or hesitation, taking pleasure in how messy they are right now. Wondering of Sylvain can taste himself on Byleth's tongue. That's a pleasant thought too.
"Your turn? That was a warm up. But I won't say no." Byleth's chuckle is cut off when Sylvain reaches down to stroke him, a startled moan slipping out. Ah. He's already way more worked up than he thought. Sylvain earns a whine from the Professor as he tips his head back, greedy for the attention.
The question brings him round again though and he quickly leans over, now with much more urgency to fumble the nightstand drawer open and fish out a small vial of oil, pushing it into Sylvain's hand eagerly.
Only a warmup. The words hold an unspoken promise that sends a wave of heat and anticipation coursing through him, making him flush all over again.
"Still," He at least had to try to pretend that a few simple words hadn't sent his heart racing, "If we're going off of orgasms, you have some catching up to do."
He punctuates the teasing with a wink, though he suspects it may have been lost on Byleth as he leans over to look for the oil. The vial is pressed into his hand, the glass cool against his palm as his expression turns hungry, "You wanna watch me get ready for you?"
His confidence is a mix of lust and false bravado. He'd rarely been on the receiving end of something like this. But he's more than willing to try to put on a show for Byleth.
"Mmm." Well that's... that's a nice thought. He's not really keeping count on the orgasms but he is very very into the idea of watching Sylvain touch himself for him. Oohf. Yeah. He will take a helping of that please.
"By all means. Go ahead. Don't hold back. I don't care if you're noisy."
People talking is the last thing he's worried about. It's none of their business and he's not ashamed to be with Sylvain. He knows better than they do, what he's really like. The world is missing out.
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"I would," He nods in response, slipping his gloves off deftly and letting them drop off the side of the bed so he can thread his fingers through Byleth's hair. Luckily for both of them, he'd already doffed his armor, his heavy winter overshirt hanging loose and open despite the cold weather, leaving an almost perfect pillow of soft fur for Byleth to rest his head against. At least that part isn't a lie. If they're going to die tomorrow, he'd rather die having kissed Byleth again, maybe spent the night with him.
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"Then you may kiss me as much as you like tonight." He presses his lips to Sylvain's cheek. "And as much as you like thereafter so long as you survive. So you had better survive."
He's not taking any of that self-sacrificial doom talk, sir.
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He turns into the brush of lips against his cheek, catching Byleth in another kiss, parting his lips to deepen it. There's a level of desperation whispering behind his actions, a need for distraction and connection. He just wants to feel human without having to think about all the things they need to do, even just tomorrow feels overwhelming when he thinks about it too much and a night alone meant hours of thinking.
He presses aggressively into the kiss, taking what he needs, fingers tangling into Byleth's hair until he has to break the kiss, panting.
"Fuck. Sorry," He mumbles breathlessly. Was that too much? Too fast?
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No, hardly.
He twists enough to shove him down on the bed, crushing their lips together again in a devouring kiss, a hand sliding down to press against his chest. He does not do anything in half-measures, let it be known, Gautier. He shivers at the feeling of their tongues sliding together again, deep and shameless.
"No apologies." He says, a little breathless when he breaks away, one hand fisted in Sylvain's shirt.
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"Okay," He exhales in reply breathlessly before tilting his head to catch Byleth's lower lips between his teeth, just this side of rough before he sucks on them.
Sliding his hand from Byleth's hair, he moves to his shirt, tugging him down, their mouths hitting too hard, lips and teeth colliding, but he doesn't care. Parting his lips into the kiss again, he pushes at Byleth's shirt, haphazardly working his way past buttons so his fingers can graze skin.
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He doesn't waste any time getting back to those needy kisses though. His own hands sliding down, diving his fingers just under the waistband of Sylvain's pants, teasing at the rise of his hip bones.
"I think," He says between kisses, "You should get naked for me."
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He arches into his touch with a soft groan, his own fingers working Byleth's shirt open, eager to fan his fingers out over more skin.
"You think so?" He asks breathlessly with a heated smirk, hands already moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off. There's a collage of old and new wounds, mostly bruises, though there are a few crudely sewn up cuts and healed scars. If any of them are bothering Sylvain at the moment, he certainly isn't acknowledging them. After his shirt, he quickly moves on to his pants, pulling the ties that held them in place loose. Lifting his hips slightly, he starts to slip his pants down.
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The professor pauses for a moment to take him in. Again his hands glide against him, fingers tracing over his hips, dipping low to squeeze his thighs. The hungry look on his face says enough. Right. Time to cover him in kisses.
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His muscles tighten and shift under Byleth's hands as he half sits up to chase after Byleth as he eases back, stealing another quick kiss and a light nip before laying back again.
Craning his head, he watches Byleth's hands trail over his marred skin, back and then hips arching up slightly into the touch. He's half hard, getting firmer as Byleth all but kneads his thighs and he has to bite his lip as he reaches out to comb his fingers through his hair.
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He takes just a moment to free himself from the rest of his own clothes, returning to slowly lay himself against the other man. Cocks brushing against each other, and the warm, soft feeling of a bare body against his own. He shivers, rolling his body against Sylvain's, relishing in the simple feeling of that sensation, trying to memorize it now. A warm memory for a cold night. He does eventually peel himself away again so he can lazily kiss his way down, a meandering trail that eventually leaves him pressing a kiss to the tip of Sylvain's length before ever-so-slowly taking it into his mouth.
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Sylvain's eyes linger on Byleth, watching him with a heated gaze as he strips his clothes off, revealing skin that Sylvain feels his fingers aching to touch. To taste. Mark.
He reaches out to meet Byleth as he presses close again, fingers fanning out and trailing over his body, strong, lean muscles under his hands. The feeling of their bodies meeting makes him inhale sharply as he rolls his hips to magnify that feeling, their cocks sliding against each other. A soft whine tickles the back of his throat when Byleth breaks the kiss and slips away, hands still running over his shoulders and through his hair even as he trails down his chest.
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He looks up through his bangs, watching him, wanting to watch his face. Byleth enjoys knowing when he's making people happy. Smiles or otherwise. He slowly works him, very shallow bobs of his head that grow bit by bit into something more substantial.
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Sylvain bites his lip to hold back a groan as he tilts his head back up to watch once Byleth starts moving, cheeks flush with arousal.
"Goddess, you look so fucking good," His voice is a coarse whisper, thick with desire, eyes dark and heated as he watches.
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His hands gripping Sylvain's hips urge him to actually move them. To fuck his mouth properly. Another glance up, to make sure Sylvain understands what he's asking for.
Go on. Thrust.
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Lips parted, he wets them as he rolls his hips up into Byleth's mouth experimentally, slow at first as he watched for a sign that he'd completely misread the situation. His gaze turns more heated when not only is there no resistance but Byleth seems to encourage and enjoy it. His thrusts grow bolder and deeper. The slowly increasing mess of saliva has him achingly hard, groaning as he slid past Byleth's lips with each thrust, brushing across the roof of his mouth and tongue to press into his throat.
"Ah, B, yes," He pants, pace quickening, skin starting to glint faintly from the sheen of perspiration.
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He eagerly swallows him down, continuing to guide his hips with his hands, wanting for him to finish here. Byleth has plenty of energy for a few rounds, and this hardly takes any effort on his part, but simply helping the other man along.
He sucks hard every few thrusts, following Sylvain's rhythm, doing his best to flick his tongue over the head when he pulls out enough.
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He's so close and Byleth feels amazingly good. His control slips further with a particularly artful drag of Byleth's tongue and it sends him tumbling into a climax he hadn't really expected with no warning for Byleth, his hips stammering up to bury himself past Byleth's lips with a cutoff, gasped cry. Panting heavily, he looks down as he bites his lip, needing to see Byleth's face as he comes, running his fingers almost clumsily through his hair.
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Pulling his mouth slowly away once he's sure there's nothing left. A thread of seed stretching from his lip as he lifts his head before it breaks, dripping down his chin. Without missing a beat, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, unable to keep a little smugness from his voice.
"Top or bottom, then?"
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He smirks as he tugs Byleth toward him, half sitting up to meet him with a hungry kiss, lips parted immediately. It's messy and heated and, somehow, it does keep his thoughts on track.
"Bottom," He slid a hand between them, tracing the length of Byleth's cock before stroking him slowly a few times, "You already gave me my turn. Your's now."
He punctuates the sentiment by teasing the pad of his thumb of the head of his cock, teasing lightly and making a small mess of the beads of precum.
"D'you have oil here? If not, I bet there's still some in my old room," He chuckles.
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"Your turn? That was a warm up. But I won't say no." Byleth's chuckle is cut off when Sylvain reaches down to stroke him, a startled moan slipping out. Ah. He's already way more worked up than he thought. Sylvain earns a whine from the Professor as he tips his head back, greedy for the attention.
The question brings him round again though and he quickly leans over, now with much more urgency to fumble the nightstand drawer open and fish out a small vial of oil, pushing it into Sylvain's hand eagerly.
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"Still," He at least had to try to pretend that a few simple words hadn't sent his heart racing, "If we're going off of orgasms, you have some catching up to do."
He punctuates the teasing with a wink, though he suspects it may have been lost on Byleth as he leans over to look for the oil. The vial is pressed into his hand, the glass cool against his palm as his expression turns hungry, "You wanna watch me get ready for you?"
His confidence is a mix of lust and false bravado. He'd rarely been on the receiving end of something like this. But he's more than willing to try to put on a show for Byleth.
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"By all means. Go ahead. Don't hold back. I don't care if you're noisy."
People talking is the last thing he's worried about. It's none of their business and he's not ashamed to be with Sylvain. He knows better than they do, what he's really like. The world is missing out.