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[ There’s a soft hiss of breath as Claude works redness into his skin, a shiver slipping through him. It’s not rough, not exactly, but the fact that Claude takes the time to mark him in the midst of this… it has something fluttering in Sylvain’s stomach he doesn’t let himself think about too deeply.

Instead, one hand slides up to dangle in dark locks, holding him close, encouraging more. Encouraging Claude to take whatever he wants, offering it up with a soft breathless sound slipping free from kiss-reddened lips.

And those fingers curve again, seeking to drive him slowly mad. He rocks into that touch, leg still hooked around Claude’s waist, keeping him anchored there. His own cock is stirring with renewed interest again, but he’s more focused on the movement of Claude’s fingers within him, his mouth on his skin.

It’s heady and intoxicating, and he tries not to dwell on how addictive this has become, this easy and blinding pleasure that builds so easy between them. The fact that he’s come to learn Claude far better and far more intimately than any other lover that’s come before. That he’s already far outlasted all the others Sylvain has let himself dally with for more than a night. This… this wasn’t something he did but he can’t seem to muster the will to do anything else about it except to continue to selfishly indulge for as long as he can. ]

[ The hand in his hair, the sounds - all of them work together to where he's tempted to hide a smile against the other man's skin if it wasn't for that meaning he'd have to break away from what he's hard at work on. Nothing says he can't put that in somewhere else, what with driving his fingers deeper into Sylvain. All of those requests aren't missed, all those small bits of begging he intends to honor. That it comes with bringing the other a slow build of pleasure is the whole point, after all.

This is what Claude's told himself before, anyway. But here with Sylvain rocking against him for more while pulling him closer, the truth of it's harder to ignore. Once upon a time it would've been easy to dismiss as just a matter of wanting to get each other off - a means to an end and nothing else, but with the benefit of some hindsight now Claude can see it wasn't that from the start.

If it had been, there were months before that to keep it as only that. Instead this is what it is: a careful learning of what Sylvain likes from each time they've done this to layer one over another with another thrust of fingers in hopes of an arching back in response, and with far more care than he's offered to many. To few, really, and there's a sentiment behind that becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

For now, Claude channels it to letting that spot on the other's neck go, dragging his teeth across a collarbone for the sensation before starting another one beneath it. This one meant for Sylvain's eyes only when that one doesn't last long either before it's on to the next, leaving a constellation behind where it'll be hidden to anyone else. ]

Fuck.

[ Claude’s fingers are taunting and wicked enough but his lips and teeth worrying redness into his flesh have him shuddering from the sensations, eyes sliding shut with each new mark Claude works into his skin. Each mark a claim in its own right, even if he doubts Claude means it that way. But still, it’s hard not to flush with pleasure when the man moves to make another, trailing them along his collarbone.

His fingers flex in dark hair before he tugs Claude’s head up impatiently for another sharp, nipping kiss. He’s not ready to beg - not quite yet - but Claude does get a husky, growled demand instead. ]

Harder.

[ Every curse that leaves Sylvain's lips continues to feel like a prize, and even more so when he knows he's intentionally testing him. All the more reason to double down on that current mark in progress to make sure this one really lasts in appreciation until he's pulled away.

Hard to protest when it's into a kiss which already has him letting out a noise of his own even before teeth come into play - or that gravelly display of want that goes straight to his cock and reminds him of his own desire. ]

Oh, are we adding my fingers to the list after all?

[ That's said as innocently as anyone can manage while complying with that demand with the next press of fingers as something rougher to mostly mean what Sylvain's requested. Not entirely since they both know that's not how this game works, but of course it's followed by one thrust for what it could be before the next lowers the intensity right back down again. ]

Or maybe I should say already since I did have plans to try this another time.

[ He hisses out a strangled sound when Claude indulges him for one whole thrust of his fingers, working him open roughly before fading back to a torturously slow pace.

He really is the worst fucking tease Sylvain’s ever taken to bed, and that’s really saying something.

He nips down sharply on Claude’s lower lip as he rocks his hips forward. Taking advantage of his position, half-wrapped around the man’s waist, to grind against his cock, feeling how hard he is for him. Taunting him with what he could take, if he’d give up his games for a little while. ]

Fuck me already. Or I’m going to say fuck all your plans and get myself off.

[ That’s not a real threat and they both know it, but he hadn’t missed the sound Claude had made at the last growled command, so this one is uttered with the same husky tone. ]

[ Sylvain remembers two can play at this, as it turns out, and the noise that grind drives out of him is far from subtle. Leagues from it. So is the request which follows, and there's a second where Claude pulls back with a smirk as if he's actually considering Sylvain and like he doesn't already know exactly what he's going to say while withdrawing his fingers. ]

No, you aren't. But I'll admit there was something to impatience on the list, especially when you're showing it.

[ Because the tone is very appreciated even if he's going to not going to rush, starting with unwinding that leg from around him so he can finally remove pants which really should've left a while ago. There's some relief there but not enough, and the same goes for retrieving the oil to slick his cock as quickly as he can be sure it's enough.

Claude isn't intending to stall (for once) but the sight of Sylvain there does it for him as he runs his eyes over the other's body with a terrible rush of fondness he tells himself isn't related to anything at all. That still counts as a delay so one slow stroke of Sylvain's cock with his oiled hand follows as a sort of apology. After that he lifts the leg that'd been around him to against his shoulder instead with a kiss aimed somewhere around his inner ankle as he lines up his cock to sink all the way into Sylvain in one thrust.

It both relieves some of the ache and layers on another which has him calling on all that self-control for what little longer it can last. Because before he gets too distracted he is going to be mindful of that supposed threat from earlier, and with that Claude wraps his fingers around Sylvain's wrists to pin them to the bed with his thumbs pressed to the middle of the other's palms to keep his hands down for good measure as he finally begins to move within him. ]

[ The loss of those fingers and then Claude pulling away gets something that’s almost a whine in protest. Lust-darkened eyes slide open again, fixating on Claude’s movements with hunger in their dark depths. And the only reason the redhead doesn’t offer an immediate snappy comeback is that he’s very distracted by the sight of Claude losing the rest of his clothing. Finally.

But it gets a low, husky groan from him as well, because damn, it’s really unfair how much he will never get tired of drinking in that sight, his eyes devouring the darker skin against his own, the toned muscle. The length of Claude’s hard cock as he strokes it with oiled fingers and his whole body clenches in anticipation of it, his own cock jerking slightly against his stomach, even as Claude reaches to give it a stroke of its own, causing his head to fall back with a breathless groan, throat working around a thick swallow as his neck arches in a taut line.

And then his leg is being lifted once more, drawing his attention back to Claude’s movements just in time for the man to bury himself with one deep thrust and that gets a breathless cry, muscles. Clenching tightly around the intrusion, wider and deeper than slicked fingers could completely prepare him for. He relishes it, the burn, the stretch, rocking up to meet it. He might have reached for Claude, too, but before he can there’s hands pressing his own down into the mattress, pinning them in place, and it only emphasizes the feeling of being caught and stretched as Claude starts to fuck him in earnest.

A litany of curses spills from his lips then, body clenching tight as he rocks with Claude’s thrusts, urging him deeper, to take, determined in his own way to push the limits of Claude’s control as far as he can.

Just because he can. ]

[ There's a second where that clench around him, the way Sylvain shifts - he holds himself back from getting carried away to make sure it's not too much all at once, that the overwhelming is only on the side of pleasure and not anything else. Ready to wait if it isn't since need, desire, and want can be dialed back even as they blur the edges of his focus away from anything that's not the man beneath him.

But it is, because even though being adept at reading people is a skill he's well honed, it's different when applied to Sylvain. Claude can acknowledge this - to himself - in a hazy sort of way and which he has on other nights past and much like this. All of those gasps, cries, a head thrown back all belong on the list of sights he'll never tire of from the other.

All the things that make Sylvain beautiful amidst everything else that does on a list which seems to grow ever longer. And while these are important entries they're far from the only ones, but it's too difficult to do anything but watch them unfold now.

None of that is a conscious thought, not when he wasn't capable of it to begin with but especially so when one of those rocks of hips erases anything else and it's Claude's own turn to curse in something that's between a gasp and a cry out of his own. Deeper would be a good thing but he forces himself to pull back, fingers tightening slightly around the other's wrists, keeping the same firm pace but not sinking back in. Something that'll do for both of them, for now, with the promise there could be more since there will be even if it's hidden in brushing another kiss to Sylvain's leg against his shoulder.

Just not yet - not with slivers of control still in his grasp, and not when he'd played up pleading and they both know there's more of that which could come in yet. ]

[ They were finally getting started and then Claude had to go back to being a tease, which has Sylvain cursing all over again. When he pulls back, Sylvain tries to chase after, reluctant to release him, but between the way his leg is propped against one of Claude’s shoulders and his hands are still pinned above his head, there’s nowhere for him to go.

He is well and truly caught, for the moment. Unless he does something drastic, anyway. Which isn’t out of the realm of possibility if Claude doesn't start moving soon.

So instead he rocks his hips shallowly, tempting him back, working on fraying those threads of control he knows the other man is just barely hanging on to. His eyes are dark as he gives Claude a challenging smirk. ]

At this rate, ‘impatience’ is going to be the least of your problems if you don’t start fucking me. I might just get bored and fall asleep.

No, you won't.

[ That's said with all fondness when the words come back to him, both from the subconscious introspection he'd been doing moments ago and from Sylvain testing him. Not that he minds the latter, especially when that's been such a running thing between them both as they've worked their way up to here, and that's all the more reason he doesn't believe that supposed threat whatsoever.

It helps, probably, that it's also a threat he's heard from Sylvain before and recognizes it for what it is. Which is why Claude wears a matching smirk which might just be a preface to the next thrust he gives that's every bit as firm as the others but deeper this time as he bites back the curse threatening to slip out, though the next thrust isn't. It's enough in the sense to make it clear that's an intentional choice even as he leans forward even more to press Sylvain's leg ever closer to his chest with one more deeper thrust following, this one slower to make sure all of it's felt while simultaneously searching out the right angle to make the other man arch up in this slightly different position. ]

If you were bored, you wouldn't be asking for more. Even if you forgot to say please in there somewhere.

Fuck.

[ The curse is a soft hiss as Claude practically bends him in half, his knee pressed up against his shoulder as he thrusts into him at a new angle, moving all too slow despite the delicious depth of that movement. His muscles clench and shudder tight around the stretch of Claude’s cock as his head presses back against the pillows again, throat and back arched as much as he’s able - which isn’t much. His hands tug absently on the hold Claude has around his wrists - again, not a true struggle to get free, but just to feel all the sensations of this. Get lost in the hold and burn and stretch, even as he aches for more, his skin flushed and damp with sweat now from the intensity of it.

Especially when that last thrust has Claude sliding right along his prostate, the pressure there even more intense for how he’s bent, held in place, unable to escape any of the friction it sends sparking along his nerves. His body jolts, cock aching and hard against his stomach as it leaks and he gives a strained, breathless cry. Half curse, half moan.

But still not a ‘please’. ]

[ It's not a please, but it is closer and he'll grant Sylvain that. Especially when that clench around him finally works a groan out of him, between the feeling and the sight of that flushed face before Sylvain tips back against the pillows and flexes in his grasp. There's a second where he loosens his grip just in case it's a request to be let go, but when the other doesn't pull away in all that rocking back against the mattress beneath them Claude tightens his grasp just a bit.

Or means to, but then does so inadvertently by leaning down to kiss the side of Sylvain's neck in something that might be more teeth than lips in a motion which also presses the other man's wrists down further into the mattress. At the same time he keeps the same deep thrusts going since that'd earned him that noise of pleasure, something which said even if it wasn't exactly what was requested it was enjoyed. And even if it's still at an unhurried pace despite all temptations otherwise (albeit slightly faster to encourage more of the same), that doesn't mean there's not something else in the closeness.

Something Claude doesn't notice for now, even as the next time he sinks into Sylvain a moan of the other's name goes with it against his skin with desire apparent. ]

[ The teeth at his throat leave a sting behind, but that just adds to the dark pleasure pulsing through him right now. He’s caught in this position, bent beneath Claude as he leans down and pins him in place with his hands and the press of his own body.

The thrusts deep inside him are still torturously too slow, but they’re deep and angled to perfectly rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust in and the withdrawal in reverse. It’s intense and endless and each rock of Claude’s hips has his body jolting at the stimulation, shuddering and clenching around the man’s length, his own pleasure burning higher and hotter as it builds, but it always skates just shy of too much, too close, leaving him simmering in frustration and the need for more the longer it builds.

He can’t think, can’t focus on anything beyond the next rock of Claude’s hips, giving a keening whine when he pulls out again, even if it’s immediately followed by another returning thrust. His fingers curl into fists above him where they’re pinned against the pillow, his entire body taut and trembling now, his breathing a ragged gasp that is definitely Claude’s name in between those broken moans that slip freely now.

The sound of his own name moaned against his skin is heard, but doesn’t sink in deeper than that other than sending a thrill along his nerves. He purposefully clenches around Claude’s cock on the next thrust, encouraging him to go deeper, take more, take him, even as gives up resisting the struggle that had started this.

Or maybe he’s just forgotten it by now, because Claude is slowly but surely driving him completely mad. ]

Fuck. Claude. Please!

[ Each feeling of Sylvain beneath him is its own version of too much: each shudder, each small sign preceding all those breathless noises asking for more. It's still not please, but Claude's having a hard time caring about that in looking for such specifics anymore. It's too difficult to imagine there could be anything better than this.

There's the clutch of those hands, his name scattered in amidst things making up half-formed pleas and the growing tension signaling the pleasure he wants to build for the other is happening. That last clench around him is almost enough to make him see stars as he thrusts back into Sylvain again, and that's before what's called out. All of it goes to his aching cock, threatens to drag him towards something else to where he has to take a second to catch his breath, paused within him, and focus. But only for a second, since then Claude draws his own ragged breath and leans down to Sylvain's ear to say: ] Good.

[ He's learned enough from their times together to know how praise works on a different level here from all those other compliments offered at other times. Maybe if his mind wasn't so impossibly blank from everything that's not Sylvain's want and how to satisfy it he could come up with something more eloquent to (somehow) draw out more from the other, but that'll be an experiment which has to wait for another time.

Because right now it involves sitting up afterwards enough to be able to see that face he's become entirely too fond of - and the expressions on it when with one squeeze to wrists still in his grip for now as a signal for what's to come, this time the thrusts are finally what the other wanted. Something deeper, something firmer, all with a faster pace meant to claim what's being offered to bring Sylvain whatever he desires. ]

[ If you’d told him a single word could have such a profound effect on him in the middle of sex a few months ago, he would have outright laughed at you. But that was before Claude started picking apart all the secret and sometimes undiscovered ways of making him come apart at the seams.

Not even Sylvain has realized the intensity he sometimes reacts to the soft words of praise Claude occasionally murmurs against his skin, or in his ears. Usually by that point, he’s too deeply lost in pleasure, in need, in this game of challenge and teasing they both partake in with far too much passion. He hasn’t made the connection yet, the effect the words have on him, but Claude’s got him pegged even better than he does, and at that one soft word, his body gives a jolt, thrashing slightly in Claude’s grip as pleasure sears along his nerve.

It doesn’t have an outlet, but it doesn’t need one, not yet. Not when Claude finally gives him what he wants and then there’s no time for thoughts, no air for words. Just the fast pace Claude sets as he fucks him in earnest now and Sylvain can only unravel underneath him, caught and held and feeling all too much. Pleas drop from his lips as his body burns hotter, shaking from the intensity of it as it builds, his head thrown back and eyes clenched shut as he rocks along with the other man’s movements, desperate for it, as the moans and cries slip free from red-bitten lips.

It builds so sharply and so fast that he doesn’t even have a chance to give warning, not when it washes over him with enough force to white out his vision. His body tightens, clenching around that next thrust of the man’s cock, his orgasm shuddering through him with such force that he keens as his own cock jerks and spills all over his stomach. It feels like it goes on forever, more intense than before, the aftershocks just as intense and shuddering through him in waves that keep stealing his breath all over again. ]

[ There's a finite time this can last as they race each other to a known destination, one they've written over and over in new ways to get there. One Claude pushes Sylvain towards with those pleas met with more praise, more encouragement, all of it to encourage that tension building. If his thrusts become slightly unfocused as the intensity of it sinks him into it, he thinks Sylvain will forgive him this when he drives him further back into the mattress, words failing him in favor of cries to match the ones he hears and that look of ecstasy on his face.

He's about to let go of one of Sylvain's wrists to reach for his cock to take it in hand but before he can, Sylvain comes with all that tension tightening around him even more on top of the beautiful sight it is to watch him come completely undone and that moan which says as much as him spilling. It's what drives him, finally, over that edge he'd been resisting when the knowledge of making Sylvain feel like this drags him there. Claude doesn't stand a chance against his own orgasm then after the delays over the night to end up with this moment of Sylvain unraveling beneath him in ways he doesn't think he'll ever tire of. With one last thrust to bottom out he spills into him and the other man's half-formed name on his lips.

After he stays buried in Sylvain, hips pressed to the other's to lift them slightly with each rock into him meant to draw out their pleasure as far and as long as it can possibly go with more gasps than actual sounds from them both until coming to a stop when it runs the risk of becoming too much. There's something else in the affection offered as he catches Sylvain for a kiss and then another. Something to be later clarified in an earring after a loss, but right now it's lost on him in favor of releasing his grip to wrap that previously pinned leg back around his waist, to brace himself on his forearms, then to breaking the kiss to lean a damp forehead against the other's while they both catch their breath in a haze. ]

Told you there was a difference.

[ Peak wisdom right there. ]

[ He gives a low groan as Claude lowers his leg back down around his waist, muscles protesting the position he’d been held in slightly but in his mind it was totally worth it. His body was still shuddering with the aftershocks, especially anytime Claude shifted or twitched deep inside him with his own reactions. It got little noises of pleasure from him any time his body shivered or clenched tightly around the other man’s cock but for the most part, he was just boneless and limp beneath him, still panting raggedly for air.

Although that statement gets an exasperated groan from him as he lifts one of his newly freed hands to push his damp hair back off his face. ]

I can’t believe you just followed up amazing sex with ‘I told you so’. [ He grumps out the complaint. And then rolls his eyes. ] No, wait. What am I saying? Of course you did.

Amazing sex that proved my point, right? Right.

[ No room for a word in there before Claude answers himself with a grin that'd been small at first but only grew wider as Sylvain's complaints escalated. All the more reason to follow that up with another kiss complete with a noise in the back of his throat when Sylvain shivers beneath him, around him and sets off more reactions between them both.

Something to enjoy even more while they come down and he shifts to pressing a kiss to the corner of the other's mouth before moving them to along his jaw as an outlet for more affection. Not that he'll let it or being breathless distract him for long, though. ]

If that's the only complaint you have, I'll take it. Especially because I'm pretty sure it is.

Give me like. Ten minutes. My brain might be working again by then. I’m sure I’ll think of something.

[ He’s not actually trying all that hard right now. Especially with the feeling of Claude’s lips moving along his skin. And the aftershocks of pleasure still echoing between them, drawing quiet, breathless groans from his lips each time another wave hits.

Still a little overwhelmed by the intensity of that, he turns to bury his face against Claude’s throat, blotting out the rest of the world a while longer. ]

Oh, well. Now I'm just counting the time down.

[ Mumbled in a purely teasing tone still against Sylvain's skin since he's too busy on his little mission of covering wherever he can reach with one kiss after another at an unhurried pace. That's until Sylvain moves and he pauses, curious about where he's going until it becomes clear a second later. A fond smile crosses his face and Claude shifts carefully, wanting to avoid any appearance of moving away, especially while shifting to balance his weight differently to bring a hand to the back of Sylvain's head to hold him there as long as he wants to stay.

Rather than run his fingers through red hair as he so often does, this time he runs fingertips and nails lightly over the other's scalp in something like a massage. And he does so quietly for a time, content to enjoy the quiet between them while it stretches on. Eventually, and after he's lost track of time, Claude nudges the side of Sylvain's face with his nose to get the other man's attention before speaking quietly. ]

What do you say I clean both of us up so we can get settled?

That sounds too much like moving. Which really sounds like a terrible idea.

[ Still, there’s a note of humor in his voice as he finally pulls back enough to shoot Claude a lazy, sated sort of grin. ]

I’d offer to help, but I’m pretty sure my legs won’t work yet.

There's a reason I said me and not you or both of us.

[ Teasingly, since Claude's aware Sylvain heard him just fine and knows what he really meant. It's exactly why he leans in for another kiss, too enamored with that grin even if the feeling doesn't fully register and feels like something merely from the afterglow, and then sits up enough to gently detangle the two of them from each other before letting Sylvain lie back.

As for himself, Claude heads to the bathroom and reaches for one towel to clean himself up quickly before tossing it into the hamper to retrieve another one to run under warm water. This one he brings back with him into the room, and the sight of Sylvain there brings back that strange fluttering feeling he can't name.

Something to think about later when right now he focuses on stretching back out next to the other man to start in that cleaning up process, and not without leaning over him for something else important. ]

Promise I'll carry you off to the bath another time, [ is what gets murmured as he closes the remaining distance for another kiss. ]

Mmmm.

[ He smiles into the kiss, one hand reaching up to tangle his fingers in Claude's dark locks, tugging him closer as he shivers from the wet slide of the washcloth over heated, sensitive skin. ]

I'm not sure whether to be insulted at that, or charmed by the unexpected display of romanticism.

Meanwhile, I'm taking it as a compliment you don't want to move. Or can't, as I think it was implied.

[ Murmured right back into that kiss even as he grins back against the smile he can feel before stealing another kiss right after, enjoying the closeness too much to listen to run his mouth. For now. Same goes for puzzling through what's attached to being charming even if normally he'd be all for confirming - something, because the thought slips from his mind a second later when it's tempting to get pulled into one kiss after another as it so often is.

As it so often is with Sylvain, but that has Claude humming a noise of his own before pulling back just enough for something else. Cleanup can wait for a minute for something else he'd noticed while getting up, and it doesn't even require dislodging that hand in his hair when he reaches for the man's other wrist to press a few slow and lingering kisses over the faint marks from his grasp before shooting Sylvain a sideways smirk without looking up. ]

I could offer you a repeat if you want to be sure which it should be.

[ Sylvain gives an almost pained groan at that and flops his other arm over his face, as if the very sight of that look right now is just too much to deal with. ]

I’ve created a monster.

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