Work Text:
I pull at the dark fabric dangling from the back pocket of Sylvain’s trousers. Black lacy panties. They're clearly a token and I'm not surprised. I roll the undergarment between my thumb and index finger as I stare at the back of his head.
“What the fuck are these?” I ask. I'm not mad. Just incredibly irritated by the heat stirring within me. I can't tell if it's jealousy or revulsion...
Sylvain turns and pales. “Ah!” He makes a grab for them but I'm quicker.
“Wear them.”
He’s gawping, blinking. “What?”
“I want you to wear them.” I toss them back to him. “For me.” And before I know it, we’re in my bedroom, all hands and rough kisses. It disgusts me how easily Sylvain’s turned on, but I’m straining in my own pants, growing harder and desperate. We strip each other. It’s effortless, routine, all finesse because we’ve done this too many times to count. I was training for a few hours beforehand and this kinky bastard is licking and sucking every inch of my body. Indifferent to the tang of sweat and clearly savoring me.
“Do I taste that good?” I sneer, but I'm blushing from the worship.
We're naked on my bed now (except for he's wearing the panties). They look good on him, the band digs in a little at his waist and the squeeze of his flesh is driving me mad. He lies on me. Chest pressed to chest, and I love the weight of him.
“You have no idea,” he whispers and delivers a long lick right between my pecs. Fuck, it's fantastic. His tongue is fantastic. I shove my fingers into his mouth and he sucks them, moaning and groaning, tonguing all over them. He's gorgeous. His eyelashes are too long, too much. And his lips are well-crafted and skilled. My cock's so hard—jealous over the attention my fingers are receiving. I pull him up for a kiss. Our lips hardly touch though, it's all tongue and spit and it’s fucking glorious.
“Let me suck it,” he whispers and I want to swallow his breath.
“Whore.” But I let him. I watch as he positions himself. We're 69. My favorite. I nuzzle his covered erection, graze my teeth along the lace, and gasp as he deepthroats me in one go. Talented little shit. He does this thing, drives me wild, this suction and tongue swirling and moaning. It’s a deadly mix and I'm addicted to it. I busy myself with this feast he has presented to me. I pull the panties aside—just enough—still trapping his cock but revealing his tight pink hole. I lap at it. Suck it. Bury my face between his cheeks. Breathe him in. I know what he likes, so I lick him sloppy. I can feel his head bobbing. He gags, but it’s all for show. I know his reflex is better than that, but I like when he gags on my dick, I like when he feigns inexperience.
We’re entwined, bodies interwoven, mouths busy. I pull my face away and stroke him through his panties. He’s moaning. I tongue his hole and stroke him some more. His balls are getting tight; his slurping is manic and my thighs are trembling with desire. “You like my cock, whore?” I ask, and he whimpers something, and I twist our bodies so I’m now on top and his head is dangling off the edge of my bed. He opens up and I fuck his mouth. I keep stroking him, and I’m so turned on by the look of his cock trapped in black lace. He comes a little and I want to lap it up, slurp it through the thin fabric, but I leave it and pull my cock out of his wet mouth.
I lie back down, and he straddles me, ass facing me, he rubs oil all over my dick. I observe his muscular back and admire the sprinkling of freckles across his strong shoulders. The tips of his ears are red and I want to plant kisses all over them. His ass looks so good in the panties, but I want them off and I tell him. He slips out of them and hands them over, and I ball them in my palm and watch as he guides me into him. He rides me, I watch as his tight hole schlurps over my cock. I watch the skin of his ring strain and pull with each rise. I grip his hips, one hand still clutching the wet panties. I thank the Professor for all of his horseback training. I bite my bottom lip and brace myself, overwhelmed by Sylvain's soft moans and labored breathing.
“Oh Felix, Felix, fuh—fuck, gods yes!” His head’s lolling back, and I’m mesmerized by the shifting of his muscles and the tight slick heat of his ass around me. I pull him back-down onto my chest, plant my feet flat onto the bed, bend my knees, angle my hips and thrust up into him, prompting more nonsense from his pretty lips.
I can’t stand his blabbering, it’s too much. I tuck the cum-dampened panties into his mouth and he groans and grips my thighs. Ooh he's into it, the sick fuck. Mmn, but I love that he loves it. I love how horny he is, how fucking eager he is. I love how he moans around the soiled fabric and squirms. I grab his hair and wretch his head back and gods he's gasping, growing tighter. Panties shoved in his mouth, body stretched back. I want someone to catch us like this—exposed and panting.
He's still rock hard. A bent spoon. I’m holding the back of his thighs now and he's taking all of me. I'm ramming up into him, his back slipping and sliding against my chest. I'm holding him, watching him stroke himself between his spreading thighs. Fuck were so sweaty, so hot together. I kiss his neck. Suck there. Marking him. All mine. He feels so slick and warm and tight around my cock. I play with his tits. Handfuls. Tweak his nipples and elicit a sweet guttural moan from his throat.
“You like that princess? You like me fucking you?” I growl into his ear and he's growling back. He hates being called that, but his hand quickens from the verbal slight.
He spits the panties out. “Not as much as you,” he manages, panting, teeth bared.
“Fuck you.” He turns his cheek to mine and I kiss him, sucking his bottom lip. I thrust up harder, wanting to split him, hurt him, pleasure him, love him. I hold him close. Snag his earlobe between my teeth. “Slut,” I hiss and slam into him, the sound of our skin smacking fills the room, and he comes again with a deliciously loud cry.
I give Sylvain a moment and then shove him off of me and force him face first onto the mattress. I mount him from behind, clutch his perfect ass, and fuck him senseless. All the way out, all the way in. Slow and hard and relentless. He's far gone. A mumbling, trembling mess, and gods does that make me horny. I grip his hair, pull him back, still fucking him, I slide my hand around and grip his neck, palm to burning throat, and squeeze—just enough. He loves it. I love it. I'm so close.
“Felix, yes, yes—”
“Shut up,” I groan but I want him to keep going, keep goading, keep me fired up. I kiss and suck on his shoulder, hand still choking his throat, I can feel him swallowing around my grip. My hair’s come undone, I’ve come undone, I’m murmuring stupid shit into his ear, “I adore you, you feel so good, I’m going to fill you up, make you mine—” I release his throat and slide my hand down his chest and abs. Trail my fingers though his seed and palm at his pubic hair. He’s so masculine, I hate it. I hate how his pliant body is brimming with vigor. I’m close. I bend him and thrust deep inside him, earning cries of exquisite, bittersweet pain. I come, I sigh, and I fill his needy hole. I collapse. I let him take me into his powerful arms, and I let him hold me.