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Overheated

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“Can’t handle the heat already?” asks Felix near his ear. 

Sylvain can imagine the way that Felix’s mouth is curled into a tight little smirk, pleased with himself. And of course, he’d be-- he’s got Sylvain boneless under his touch with something as simple as his hand around his cock. 

It’s the worst place for this, the sauna. They’ve been in there barely fifteen minutes. Sylvain isn’t an exhibitionist. Except when Felix is. 

“Oh, I can,” says Sylvain cheekily. He can feel the way that Felix smiles a Cheshire grin against his neck. 

“You seem sure of yourself,” says Felix. Goading him as always. Pressed close to Sylvain’s side, mouthing at his neck. Fingers tightening around the head of his cock. “But this part of you is honest at least.”

“I’m always honest.” Especially in the way that he moans as Felix slides his hand along his length. He knows that Felix loves it, the way that he wears his pleasure on his sleeve. Or, in this case, on his skin. The thin towel wrapped around his waist doesn’t hide anything since Felix hiked it up to show off his hard cock and how it’s already spilling over, wet to the touch. 

“Debatable,” says Felix. His fingers dance down his shaft before spreading wide against his groin, sweeping through the hair there. A soft touch that does wonders for Sylvain because he likes the casual nature of it. 

It’s usually him pulling apart Felix, pushing him to the edge, trying his best to get him to forget about the war, about their impending doom, or to just relax for once in his damn life. But this time, it’s Felix who has his hands on Sylvain. Who’d stared at him the moment Sylvain stepped into the sauna swathed in nothing but terrycloth. 

Felix’s gaze immediately hardened, just like Sylvain’s cock the moment he’d caught the sultry gaze. 

And when Felix is like this, he’s taunting in the worst of ways. Sylvain craves it.

Sylvain turns to meet Felix’s face. It’s pink and sweaty, partially from the humid air of the sauna. He isn’t unaffected, though. His gaze sweeps over Sylvain, from his chest to his cock, and then back up, eyes hazy with want. 

They meet in a kiss, a tangle of their lips. Sylvain licks along the seam of Felix’s mouth and he opens right up, pulling him in eagerly. Sylvain moans into the kiss, tongue stroking along his before he pulls back. Too stuffy.

“Hot,” says Sylvain, “Too hot for-- Well--”

“Already overheated,” says Felix. “I knew it. You really can’t handle it.”

“Try me.” It’s a perfect imitation of Felix’s constantly vexed demeanor.

Felix pauses at that, his hand stilling. “Is that a challenge?” he asks.

Sylvain leans against the wall, stretching along the wooden bench, and smiles in return. “Better make it quick before someone else comes in.”

Felix does exactly that, doubles down on his efforts. Licks his hand to slick it up, using the wetness of saliva and sweat to ease the way. His fingers are warm against Sylvain’s aching cock. He knows just how to touch him, the tempo and pace, where to squeeze tight, and where to loosen his grip. 

“Fuck,” curses Sylvain, a hiss into the warm air. 

“Not this time,” says Felix. He licks along Sylvain’s neck and down to the juncture of his shoulder. Across his collarbone, lapping at the skin there. Sylvain’s a sucker for this, beholden to the smaller things during their intimacy.

Felix’s hand on his cock, his tongue sweeping across his sweaty skin; it’s all second to how Felix’s is pressed close to him, whispering soft and filthy things into his ears. Really, that alone does more than anything. He can’t wait to get his hands on Felix.

“Someone can come in anytime,” says Felix, breath hot against the shell of his ear. 

Sylvain whines at the thought. It’s late, far too late for that to probably happen. Everyone’s tucked into their beds, sleeping softly. But the threat of it heats his groin.

“And they’d see you,” continues Felix, his voice pitched low in a dangerous tenor. Goddess, what the sound does to Sylvain, how it stokes the fires burning tight in his gut. “Spread out like this, in front of me. At my mercy. They always think it’s the other way around, that I’m the one who’s at your beck and call, but look at you now. What would they say?”

He whimpers, thinking about it. There’s a distinct image that comes to mind when one thinks of Sylvain Gautier, and he’s pretty damn sure that this isn’t it. Felix’s hands sweep down to caress his balls, rolling them slightly in his palm. Presses against the expanse of smooth skin just beneath. And then he’s back on his cock, and Sylvain’s wanton, so close to the edge, to careening right over.

“Already,” chides Felix. 

“Felix--”

“Not a complaint.” Then Felix’s voice falls quiet, only for Sylvain even though they’re the only ones there. “I prefer it that way. When you’re so eager you’re doing everything that you can do to hold on.”

It’s hard to focus, his mind foggy and his brain practically mush. The rough towel against his skin as it’s still wrapped around his waist. The rise and fall of Felix’s hand as he jerks him with precision. The coiling in his belly, tighter and tighter. 

“I know that I teased you,” says Felix affectionately, crooning in rare form. “About how you couldn’t handle me, but that isn’t true, is it? You’re the only one that can.” Then he licks along Sylvain’s ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth, sucking gently. 

Sylvain bucks into Felix’s grip, slick with sweat and spit, and the fog of the sauna. His skin’s practically burning, his chest is on fire. His cock is molten lava, so near the end. He ruts against Felix’s hand with abandon, moaning lowly, not caring that his voice is slowly growing louder. 

Felix hushes him, shoving the fingers of his free hand into his mouth. Sylvain swirls his tongue around them, moaning again, this time muted. Mimicking exactly what’d he’d do if he had his lips wrapped around Felix’s cock instead. 

Felix is the one to moan this time, short and sweet. He grinds against Sylvain’s side, his own cock hard against the crook of Sylvain’s waist, and slick with precome. Just as needy, just as wanting. Sylvain can’t wait to wreck him. But first. 

His hips move quicker, meeting Felix’s fist with gusto. His back arches as he whines around Felix’s fingers between his teeth. Sylvain needed this. Felix must’ve known, must’ve seen how on edge he’s been, how much he needed to be pulled apart. 

The dark and wet warmth of the sauna after a late-night spar is the perfect place for dirty debauchery. 

“You can,” whispers Felix into his hair. “You’ve been so good, waiting so long for me.” 

Sylvain’s eyes slipped closed as his head drops back and he comes at the words. Felix slows his hand and guides him carefully through his orgasm. Come splatters against Sylvain’s stomach, wet and sticky. When Felix lets go, he swirls his fingers through it. 

And Sylvain watches as he brings them to his mouth, licking the mess right off of them. Felix’s gaze is heated, eyes narrowed in lust. Then he leans back against the bench and raises a leg to the side, showing off his hard cock, dark pink at the tip. Resting against his slick skin and waiting.

Sylvain licks his lips, hungry to reciprocate and desperate to please. 

“Felix,” he groans, already moving, kneeling between Felix’s legs, not caring about the rough wooden slats against his knees. 

Felix looks down at him, eyes hooded. A hand finds Sylvain’s head, fingers slipping into his damp curls. Then he pulls at them, just enough to sting satisfyingly. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Sylvain dives in, swallowing him right down.