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When Dimitri and Sylvain had first gotten together, Dimitri had known that they would, inevitably, end up in bed together. Sylvain was a sexual creature, or so the rumours said, and Dimitri had first-hand experience to prove them true. It isn’t that he himself was averse to sex; on the contrary, he had always been somewhat curious about it.
Right up until his first time, anyway.
It hadn’t been anything special. It hadn’t been for fun, but it hadn’t been to survive, either, despite the dire state of Fhirdiad’s slums. It had just… been. He’d slept with a man in a run-down inn in Fhirdiad’s poorest district, someone whose name Dimitri couldn’t hear over the ghosts in his head but who had been kind enough and hadn’t seemed to know who he really was. It was… fine, he supposed. It felt good, but that was about it, and Dimitri hadn’t felt the need to go back to him for more after that. Or anyone, for that matter. His curiosity had been sated, and there were more important things to think about than satisfying physical desires.
He hadn’t slept with anyone else since then. He hadn’t wanted to.
Not until Sylvain.
With Sylvain, everything is different. Sylvain had shown him that sex could be more than just fine, that it could feel more than simply good. Dimitri’s inexperience had meant nothing to him but a chance to show off: to show Dimitri what he liked and what he didn’t, to teach him how to kiss and lick and suck, how to touch and how to ride. Every time he’d touched Dimitri that first time, it had felt like his world was tumbling off its axis and spiralling into the deep unknown, exploding into a hundred thousand brightly-burning stars.
He hadn’t understood the appeal of sex before Sylvain. Now, he craves it.
“You doing okay there, big guy?”
Sylvain looks up at Dimitri from between his legs. He’s kneeling at the side of the bed, fingers of one hand buried deep within Dimitri while the other slowly strokes his cock. His eyes are shining with equal parts affection and delight, firelight from the hearth reflected in the deep amber of his irises.
“Yes, my love,” Dimitri says, voice thick with desire. He bites his lip and whines, squirming against Sylvain’s hand as he curls his fingers inside him. He’s pressed right up against Dimitri’s prostate, rubbing it slowly and attentively in time with the movements of his other hand. Dimitri’s mind is already slipping away, clouding over in a haze of lust and pleasure.
“Good,” Sylvain purrs, leaning forward to press his lips to the pale, soft flesh of Dimitri’s inner thigh. “Because I’m going to make you feel so good tonight, Dimitri.”
It’s a promise, one that Dimitri eagerly accepts. He nods, frantically, and arches his back, lifting his hips to allow Sylvain better access to his hole. Sylvain grins, teeth scraping Dimitri’s skin and sending tiny shockwaves of pleasure all throughout his body. He feels a steady stream of precum drip down over the head of his cock, and Sylvain quickly catches the end with his thumb to smear and spread it over the shaft.
“Wow,” he breathes, reverence in every note of his voice. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
Dimitri only whimpers.
“No, seriously, I mean it.” He smiles and stands up, fingers slipping off Dimitri’s cock and out of Dimitri’s entrance as he leans over him to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s a slow kiss, long and deep and indulgent, Sylvain’s tongue leisurely plundering the depths of Dimitri’s mouth while Dimitri lies back to let him.
When he pulls away, Dimitri follows him, wanting more – but Sylvain stops him with a hand on his chest.
“Not tonight. Let me take care of you, okay?” He smiles. Tears of desperation prickle in the corner of Dimitri’s eye.
He nods.
“There. That’s my Dima,” Sylvain says. He kisses Dimitri’s forehead and pushes sweat-sticky hair behind his ear. “Just promise me one thing, okay?”
“Yes,” Dimitri says without hesitation, voice escaping him in a burst of hurried breath. “Anything, Sylvain. Everything.”
“No matter what happens or how overwhelmed you get, you’ll let me do what I want.”
Dimitri blinks. There’s a note of seriousness in Sylvain’s gaze now, a hint of firmness behind his smile. Dimitri knows this look: it’s one he’s seen countless times before, when Sylvain is thinking deeply but doesn’t want to let on what’s really on his mind. It’s a look Dimitri has come to trust, because it means that Sylvain is not acting carelessly, and he will do whatever it takes to make things work the way he wants.
“Trust me,” Sylvain says. “I won’t hurt you.” He takes Dimitri’s hand. “I promise.”
“Okay.” Dimitri smiles. He reaches up to cup Sylvain’s cheek. “You may do whatever you like with me, and I will not protest.”
Sylvain’s smile grows for half a moment, and then he smothers it against Dimitri’s lips in a hard, passionate kiss. Over and over again he kisses Dimitri, quick and eager to slow and soft and gentle, and gradually, Dimitri relaxes, coaxed into bliss by Sylvain’s skillful mouth.
Sylvain moves to push him down flat on the bed. He rearranges Dimitri’s limbs so he’s lying on it properly now, with his head resting on the pillow; Dimitri lets him, happily relinquishing control and only breaking their continued kisses to make things easier for him.
He holds Sylvain by the hips when Sylvain moves to straddle him. Dimitri looks up into his eyes, silently questioning what he intends to do, and Sylvain answers with a wink, setting Dimitri’s heart embarrassingly aflutter.
And then Sylvain moves, lifting his hips half an inch before slowly sinking down onto Dimitri’s cock.
Dimitri gasps. His mouth falls open on it and he arches his back, fighting against the urge to thrust up into Sylvain, because as much as he wants to, he knows he shouldn’t; Sylvain has told him, on more than one occasion, that he is… “a lot” to adjust to. The last thing in the world he wants is to hurt his lover, and so impatient as he is, Dimitri forces himself to wait.
He feels Sylvain bottom out atop him, the soft flesh of his rear coming flush against Dimitri’s thighs. He hitches forward, just a little, in an attempt to adjust. His face burns brightly, half as red as his hair – and he’s beautiful like this, flushed and smiling and happy on Dimitri’s cock. Again, Dimitri longs to move, but still he waits, running his thumb along Sylvain’s pelvis to distract himself and reassure Sylvain that he is there, it’s okay, he’ll be fine.
“Mm…” Sylvain’s eyes slip shut and a wide, sated smile spreads over his face. He finds his balance quickly, and when he does, he starts to roll his hips, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, lifting himself up and fucking himself on Dimitri’s cock like it’s nothing more than a toy.
And oh, it feels good. With what he had been doing before, teasing Dimitri’s cock with his hands and mouth and fingering him open slowly, it’s almost too good, too fast. The dull, smouldering burn that had lit in the pit of Dimitri’s stomach reignites anew, and he jerks upward, hips slamming into Sylvain of their own accord.
“Ahh – Sylvain,” he starts, barely able to choke the words out over the pleasure building up inside him. “That – that’s too much – please, wait, it’s too soon, I’m going to—”
He doesn’t stop. Sylvain laughs, and keeps going – speeds up, maybe, incorrigible as he is. “It’s okay,” he says, a smile in his voice that Dimitri hears more than sees. “You can come, baby.”
“But—”
“Aw, are you worried about me? That’s sweet.” Sylvain grins, strained, no doubt on the verge of orgasm himself. “You’re cute, but you don’t have to worry about me at all. I told you I was gonna make you feel good, didn’t I?” He leans down, hips still working as he rides Dimitri like he was born to. “I want you.”
And with that, Dimitri comes, crying out as he releases inside Sylvain. And still Sylvain keeps moving, keeps thrusting, keeps grinding down on him, drawing his orgasm out even longer. Wave after wave of hot, pulsing electricity crashes over Dimitri, and he fucks up into Sylvain with each and every one until they finally subside. By the time he’s done, he’s panting heavily, completely spent and unfathomably exhausted.
Eventually, Sylvain slows. He does not stop moving entirely, though, and does not lift himself off Dimitri’s cock. Dimitri opens his eye, vision half-blurred with the residual fog of orgasm, and he’s met with the sight of Sylvain still atop him, one hand tightly wrapped around the base of his own cock.
He hasn’t come.
“Sylvain,” Dimitri whines, sitting up and reaching for him. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize.” Sylvain grins. He rolls his hips again, and Dimitri nearly chokes, pleasure rippling through him even despite his quickly-softening cock. It’s such a strange sensation – almost painful – and one Dimitri has only experienced a handful of times, when he’s come too soon and Sylvain still needs to get off.
Kind of like now, really, but there’s something different to it this time, something in Sylvain’s eyes that tells Dimitri he has other plans. He’s still holding his cock firmly, even as he begins to bounce on Dimitri’s dick again.
“Wh-what are you doing…?” Dimitri asks, body convulsing as his cock starts to twitch and harden again inside Sylvain. There’s a tightness in his chest he can’t quite explain, a whirlpool of heat twisting in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t you want…?”
“Not yet.” Sylvain grins, and he grinds down harder, wrenching a broken cry from Dimitri’s throat as he starts to ride him in earnest. “You said you’d trust me, remember?”
Dimitri does. He trusts Sylvain with his heart, his body, his very life. He will do whatever is asked of him, all to make Sylvain happy; and so he relents, dropping back to the bed and giving into what he wants.
What they both want.
He fucks up into Sylvain slowly, instinctively, following Sylvain’s lead and letting his thoughts gently ebb away. Sylvain rides Dimitri until he comes again – but it’s less powerful this time, less explosive; his cock pulses inside Sylvain but fills him far less than it had before. Dimitri whimpers as he finishes for a second time, muscles relaxing and entire body going limp.
This time, Sylvain rises off him. Dimitri groans at the loss of warmth, squirming uncomfortably on the bed as some of his come leaks out of Sylvain and drips onto his thighs. His soft cock flops against his skin, sticky and wet, and Dimitri doesn’t exactly like the feeling, but he’s far too tired to complain.
And then Sylvain kneels between his legs.
Dimitri looks up. Sylvain spreads his legs wide, firm hands pressing against the insides of each thigh, and he lines himself up against Dimitri’s hole, loose and pliant from when he’d stretched it earlier. Dimitri doesn’t protest as Sylvain slides in – he does the opposite, in fact: he moans, loud and broken and needy, nerves flaying themselves open under his skin, burning and sparking as pleasure overwhelms him once more.
Sylvain buries himself inside Dimitri, stopping only when their hips press flush together and his cock sits so deep inside him Dimitri thinks he might feel it in his stomach. He whimpers and writhes, unable to do much else, and looks up at Sylvain through thin, tear-stained lashes.
“You okay?” Sylvain asks.
“I… yes,” Dimitri says, because he wants to be, and because he knows he can handle this strange and unfamiliar feeling. It’s not a bad one – simply unfamiliar – and it’s Sylvain who is causing it, so there is no reason for him to think he won’t be fine, eventually.
“All right,” Sylvain says, hitching forward to press a fleeting kiss to Dimitri’s cheek. “I’ll go easy on you at first, okay?”
He wants to ask what Sylvain means, but before he gets the chance, Dimitri is silenced by a messy, uncoordinated kiss. He feels Sylvain move inside him, but can barely register it over the sensation of Sylvain’s tongue in his mouth. Dimitri kisses back as best he can, which – to his shame – is not very well at all, sloppy and wet and barely in control of himself. Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the way he moans into Dimitri’s mouth is any indication.
He nips at Dimitri’s lip and drags his mouth across sweaty, heated skin, over the ridge of Dimitri’s cheek to lick and bite at his ear. Dimitri’s entire body jumps up in response, back arching and hips lifting to drive Sylvain impossibly deeper inside him.
Every movement, every thrust, has stars exploding behind Dimitri’s eye, even as it rolls back in his head and his vision blurs and blackens. He can’t see, can’t think, can’t breathe, and it’s so good, so wonderfully and powerfully good, he can hardly contain himself. Dimitri comes again, fingers twisting in the sheets so violently they tear under his nails. He snaps upright, spine seizing, every muscle in his body flooding with electricity as he unwittingly presses himself closer to Sylvain.
Sylvain grabs him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso, holding him in place as he continues to fuck Dimitri through his orgasm. “Yeah,” he grits through his teeth, breath hissing sharply against Dimitri’s ear, “You feel so good, Dimitri, fuck, I can’t – just a little more, baby, please—”
And Dimitri nods, mindless, not even registering Sylvain’s words as they tumble from his lips. All he knows in this moment is the white-hot pleasure that courses painfully through him, lighting up his nerves and setting his skin on fire. His cock pulses uncomfortably between their bodies, come splashing weakly against their skin. He slumps in Sylvain’s arms when the last shockwaves of orgasm recede, and he starts to pull away, but Sylvain holds him fast, fucking up into him like he hasn’t even noticed Dimitri has come.
“Sylvain…” Dimitri groans, head lolling to the side. Sylvain kisses his neck as he inadvertently exposes it, breath hot and humid and uncomfortable on his oversensitive skin. “Sylvain, please, no more, I can’t…”
“You can,” Sylvain grunts against his ear. “You can, Dimitri, I know you can, you’re so strong, so good…”
Unable to argue in the face of such praise, all Dimitri can do is whimper, flustered and overwhelmed as he is. He clings more tightly to Sylvain, arms and legs both wrapped around him, and surrenders to his ecstasy once again, moaning and whining as Sylvain’s cock slides in and out of him with unprecedented ease. He’s so loose, so open, so eager to take more, to let Sylvain remold him from the inside out—
He comes again, Sylvain’s cock slamming up against his prostate – or at least he thinks he does, because his mind goes white and his body convulses, but there’s no telltale wetness erupting between them, no evidence of anything sticky and thick staining their skin that wasn’t already there.
Sylvain pulls out, then, and Dimitri nearly cries with relief, tears leaking from beneath his lashes as he twitches in Sylvain’s arms. He feels empty, now, so empty, his hole stretched out and craving to be refilled – and then he realizes, somewhere in the hazy fog of his blissed-out mind, that he’s too empty, and there’s nothing inside him at all: not Sylvain’s hands, not his cock, not even a trickle of come leaking out of him and sliding down his legs.
“Sylvain, what…” he starts, but before he can properly ask, Sylvain takes him by the waist and flips him over, slamming him down against the mattress and hefting his hips high into the air.
“I’m not done yet,” Sylvain growls. His voice is deep and scratchy, thick with desire and need – and Dimitri knows, in that moment, that he had been holding back all along.
“One more,” Sylvain says, pressing the head of his cock to Dimitri’s loose, open hole. “I want one more.”
“No,” Dimitri protests, even as he pushes back to draw Sylvain back in. “I can’t, I…” But Sylvain pushes in anyway, and any protest dies on his tongue, replaced with one single, drawn-out breath, one word of needy affirmation: “Yes.”
He smiles as Sylvain thrusts inside him. The pain of overstimulation has melted away and coalesced into something sweet and warm and pleasant, a persistent foggy heat swirling around his head and blinding him to everything but Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain: Sylvain’s cock inside him, Sylvain’s hands against his skin, Sylvain’s lips dragging down his neck and Sylvain’s teeth digging into his flesh. It’s perfect, he’s perfect, and Dimitri loses himself at last, his entire being slipping beneath the surface of pleasure and getting swallowed in its whirlpool.
He doesn’t register when he comes. He hardly feels it anymore. All he feels is Sylvain, moving in and out of him, holding him, surrounding him – with his body, his warmth, his heat, his love.
He could drown in it and die a happy man.
When Sylvain comes at last it’s with a distant cry, one Dimitri barely hears over the blood rushing in his ears. He pushes back against his lover, clenching down around him and milking him for all he’s worth, half-laughing at the sensation of Sylvain’s cock pulsing in his overworked hole, half-moaning with the need for more, even when he’s already had so much.
But then, at last, Sylvain collapses atop him, spent and sticky and covered in sweat. Dimitri sighs in relief, laughing as Sylvain’s breath tickles him behind his Dimitri’s ear. He feels amazing like this, both inside and above him, and Dimitri smiles, at last allowing himself to go limp and relax.
He drifts off like that, safe and secure where he’s pinned under Sylvain; and when he wakes up, it’s to sturdy, gentle hands on him, running a warm, wet cloth over his skin and mopping up the last traces of come leaking from his entrance. Sylvain drags the cloth lightly over his thighs, then, and over his waist, his stomach, his chest; Dimitri twitches under his touch, skin still sensitive, and reaches up, not caring that Sylvain hasn’t finished cleaning him.
“Hey,” Sylvain breathes, leaning into Dimitri’s hand and bending over for a kiss. “You still alive down there?”
“Yes,” Dimitri says, though his voice doesn’t sound like his own. He smiles, weak and lazy, and allows Sylvain to kiss him.
“Oh, really? Because for a while there, I was sure you were a goner. What a story that would’ve been, eh?”
Dimitri laughs. “Defeated by sex, betrayed by the man dearest to my heart.”
There’s a pause. Dimitri opens his eye to find Sylvain smiling softly down at him, cheeks flushed a most becoming shade of pink. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “What a way to go.”
Dimitri laughs. “You were right.”
“Oh?” Sylvain grins. “I like the sound of that. Say it again. Tell me what I was right about.”
“Sylvain…”
“Come on, please?”
“Fine.” Dimitri shakes his head. “You were right to ask me to trust you. It was… a lot, what you did… but I liked it. I liked it very much.”
Sylvain smiles. “I did, too.”
“But I don’t think I’ll be able to do it again anytime soon.”
“Oh, no,” Sylvain agrees. “I think I used up a week’s worth of stamina there. In fact, I may even have to skip training for the next week or so…”
He winks. Dimitri chuckles, stupid with affection, and so very terribly in love. He holds up a finger.
“One day,” he says. “You’ve earned one day off.”
And Sylvain smiles. “That’s good enough for me.”
He joins Dimitri on the bed, then, curling up against his side and wrapping his arms around him. Together, the two of them drift off, bone-deep exhaustion at last taking them over.
Dimitri wouldn’t have it any other way.