“I kind of want to fuck you”
Felix freezes mid-swing and wonders for a moment if he’d even heard correctly.
He’s mostly used to Sylvain’s jokes and antics by now, with how he always tries to get a rise out of him, tries to crack the shell Felix has built around himself.
It takes a few heartbeats for him to resume his movement, perhaps putting a little bit too much strength into it when his sword smacks against the training dummy, his arms ringing from the impact.
“Excuse me, what the fuck.” Felix states more than he asks when he turns around to face Sylvain.
Sylvain who has that infuriating grin on his face that tells him everything. Just another one of his stupid jokes, the ones that no one but Sylvain finds funny, and Felix is very sorely tempted to just turn his best friend into his target dummy instead.
Never mind how that simple phrase hit right into his chest, right into all that longing he’d felt over so many years now.
Had Sylvain noticed? No, impossible. The man was as dense about other people’s feelings as a rock, perhaps more so.
“If you have time to waste, maybe you should put all that excess energy into training,” Felix spits out, attempting to quiet his heart as he turns his back on Sylvain again.
Perhaps, if he’d kept watching, he’d have noticed the pretense slip from Sylvain’s face, replaced with a deep fondness, a longing stare only rivaled by Felix’ own.
In fact, he’s been wondering for a while now, sometimes catching those stares Felix gives him out of the corner of his eye when Felix thinks he’s not looking. Does he dare hope?
He keeps his tone light, teasing, but he notices the way Felix freezes up, the way the heat creeps up his neck before he manages to catch himself, turning around to spew venom at Sylvain.
He’s almost entirely certain he’s not imagining things at this point.
Still, Sylvain bides his time. Felix can act like a cornered animal at the best of times, and if there’s one thing he does not want to fuck up for himself, it’s his relationship with his best friend.
But then the White Heron Cup happens and Sylvain Can’t. Stop.
Draws Felix into a dance, sees the flush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind snide remarks, feels the way his heart speeds up against his when he pulls him closer.
Sylvain bites the inside of his cheek as he guides Felix behind a pillar, seeking his eyes for permission as he leans in just enough to allow Felix to pull away if he really wants to.
Felix meets him halfway.
His lips are warm and slightly chapped and Sylvain swears that it’s the best kiss he’s ever had, even though it’s much too brief and leaves him wanting more.
He groans low in his throat when Felix makes to move back, ends up pushing his best friend up against the pillar, the chasteness of the first kiss gone as he licks at the seam of Felix’ lips, begging him to open up for him, the needy noise that escapes Felix enough to tell him he isn’t the only one relishing in this feeling.
Finally, he thinks, only pulling away the tiniest bit, allowing them both to catch their breath,
“Finally,” Felix has the gall to say, as if he had been the one pining for years and years.
“I really want to fuck you.”
Felix recalls the day Sylvain had said that to him first, only then he hadn’t been on his knees for his best friend, hadn’t been sucking his dick, breathless and squirming, just barely keeping himself from touching his own dick - just because Sylvain had asked him to.
He moans softly, bites at the soft skin of Sylvain’s thigh just enough to leave a light mark - they hadn’t done that in a while, the missions always getting in the way.
“Okay,” Felix mutters, and the word has barely passed his lips when Sylvain pulls him up, deftly maneuvers him onto the bed, his eyes shining with mischief.
“There’s something I want to try,” is all the warning Felix gets before Sylvain starts kissing his way down his body, along toned abs and the thin trail of hair, and Felix muscles clench in anticipation - but his cock stays neglected, only a few stay strands of Sylvain’s hair brushing against it as he kisses along his thighs, further down.
Even that light touch draws a soft sound from Felix, quickly replaced by a gasp when he realizes what Sylvain is doing.
There’s barely enough time to brace himself before a soft, hot tongue brushes against his hole, tentative, as if not quite sure if Felix would truly like this.
“Oh,” is all he manages to say before he spreads his legs wider, allowing Sylvain to move in closer.
It’s nothing he’s ever felt before, altogether different from being stretched out by Sylvain’s or his own fingers, the wet warmth of Sylvain’s mouth enough to make him clench his fists into the sheet so he won’t tangle them in Sylvain’s hair to keep him in place.
Felix is fairly certain he is melting when he feels Sylvain’s tongue push past the rim, opening him up with clever licks, his own thighs quivering from exertion.
It feels like hours, though it could have been minutes, until Sylvain pulls away, running a teasing finger along his reddened muscle, only just dipping the tip of it in. Felix dick ist leaking by now, the moans he usually bites down falling freely from his lips.
“Fucking tease,” he gasps, though Sylvain doesn’t give him more time to complain, angling Felix just so as he lines himself up, leaning down to kiss Felix as he pushes inside, the burn of the stretch doing little to stop the wetness from seeping from Felix’s dick.
“You can touch yourself if you like,” Sylvain murmurs with a groan, the slide of his own cock inside agonisingly slow.
As much as Felix would love to resist, he’s already lost that fight. A few tugs is all it takes and he’s already coming, Sylvain somehow managing to hit that spot inside him just so.
He feels sore and overstimulated by the time he comes down, but Felix likes that too, the challenge in his eyes enough to drive away any concern Sylvain was about to show.
“I’m good, so how about you fuck me until I get hard again,” Felix smirks, feeling the way that sentence alone makes Sylvain pulse inside of him.
The night is young, after all.