NSFW Claude Week, June 2: Experiments

[warmskies]

It starts out with them making out at breakfast, because that's the kind of thing that happens with them these days, apparently.

On paper, King Khalid of Almyra is visiting because of a diplomatic visit, and that part is true enough. Claude is the kind of person who always gets two birds with one stone, if he can manage it, and he has his priorities in order. Unless some past regents that Felix could name, Claude doesn't use his position just for personal pleasure. If it's a bonus, that's fine, but Claude has a dream in his head, and hands that can help make it a reality.

Still, the reality of it is that Claude also makes sure to have some fun and relax himself when he can. That takes the shape of him coming to stay in Fhirdiad when he can, and, well... That's where the rest of them just so happen to be a lot of the time as well while they work on the long and arduous task of reconstructing Fodlan, with Sylvain's father still alive (unfortunately) and Felix having an uncle that is also still alive and can help him out. So of course they have meals together, when they can, and when Dedue isn't showing Claude how Duscur's reconstruction is going and Dimitri doesn't have a million different meetings and research to do in a single day.

And that means sometimes make outs happen over breakfast.

It happens.

The scene is like this: Felix has Claude pressed up against the table, both of them out of their chairs and Claude doing his very best to try not to get his ass in the butter. Dimitri and Sylvain are to the side, talking about some asinine thing that's probably half romantics and half making fun of them for making out over breakfast. Claude and him are exchanging words between the kisses, and the bites, and that's around the time his lover laughs at him quietly and says, "What's the point of holding back in sex?"

Felix blinks, and has to pull his brain back for actual conversation. The entire time up until this point, he's pretty sure he was just doing the sexual equivalent of trash talking. ("Teasing", Sylvain has told him more than once.) "I can think of a few reasons," Felix says, and arches his back as he feels Claude's nails rake down along his back, underneath his shirt. The movement threatens to rock Claude ever closer to food that probably won't taste much better from his ass having touched it, clothed or not. His own hand drifts downwards, tugging at the front of Claude's shirt. It's still early in the morning; he's not wearing much else besides the necessities. "Being able to enjoy just how much the other person is enjoying themselves, for starters."

"Okay," Claude concedes, which is great, except he keeps talking. "But I mean there's no point in holding back all the time. So if you're never wild for me the way Dimitri is, I'm clearly not doing a good enough job with you."

Huh. There might actually be a good point somewhere in there, and Felix's fingers linger right above Claude's belt, over his stomach. He likes to think that he's gone 'wild' for some of his partners in bed, Sylvain most notably, but he supposes it's true that him and Claude have never really done the same. Passionate, sure. Felix likes to think he can do passionate just fine. (He can, right?) But... Hm. "Got any idea on how to drive me out of my senses then, 'king schemer'?"

Claude's eyes absolutely sparkle. "I do, but I'd need a rope and a few free hours."

Something about that clearly catches Sylvain's ear, because he drags his attention away from Dimitri to stare at the two of them. "If we don't get out of this room right now, Your Majesty," he says, looking pained as he drags himself away from the fishhook that would be Claude's words, "I think we're never gonna be able to pry ourselves away."

That actually makes Felix laugh, and he tucks his face against Claude's shoulder. Hearing the warm gusts of his breath does something to Claude's heart. "If it's a few hours, then I have actual work to do," he says, pushing himself away from Claude.

"You don't need to," Dimitri says. Much like Sylvain warned, he seems utterly ensnared by even the smallest of tidbits that Claude has suggested. "We can manage without you, can't we, Sylvain?" Felix raises an eyebrow. It's the kind of silent look that's often gotten to Dimtiri in the past before, with the other man so sensitive to small gestures from him nowadays, but it gets nothing now. Dimitri doesn't even try to look innocent. He just stares, enraptured by this vague and silly idea that Claude's presented.

Sylvain is just as bad, his eyes roaming between Felix and Claude. "Only if we get to watch a repeat performance later," he says. "Thinking of us having to miss this will keep me up nights, otherwise."

Even though this couldn't have possibly have been something he planned ahead of time, Claude still winks at their two lovers like he did. "That depends on Felix, I guess."

"So what is this, a practice run?" Felix scoffs, and earns a chuckle or two out of Claude. That's good and all, but Felix has other concerns, ones that make him frown at Dimitri and Sylvain. "Are you two actually sure you'll do fine on your own otherwise?" He'd never admit it aloud, with his actual voice, but being a Duke even if just mostly in name for now makes Felix a little.... antsy. He always got lessons on a lot of the same things that Glenn had, before his brother died. His father made sure to cover up the gaps afterwards, as best he could even if that meant just sending Felix to tutors if their arguments got worse over things that had nothing to do with the teaching material. Theoretically, on paper, he has everything he needs to be a duke.

In practice, Felix knows it was never what he was meant to be. He was the second son. The back up. If things had gone like they should have, he would have just been a- someone by Dimitri's side, fighting for him and protecting him. Instead, he has to think about the damage done to the territories in Fraldarius, how to help deal with any poverty that still nips at them all from when Cordelia had waged steady war against them. There's so much, economics and farming and more - and that's just Fraldarius. For Fodlan as a whole?

All he can do is work at it, to stick by Dimitri's side and take in everything he can, oversee everything with a sharp eye, because he's not going to fuck this up. This isn't the kind of protection he wants to do, dreamed of doing, but it is protection regardless. He's not going to let the people of Fraldarius, of Fodlan, be failed.

It's a concern that won't ever truly be sated, although Dimitri's nod has a level of certainty in it that helps a little bit. "Of course. Dedue is visiting, and we can tie in a lot of what we're doing with Duscur's reconstruction as well, or trade ideas. We're more than capable enough on our own as well, although I know you sometimes find that hard to believe." He smiles, just a little bit, before that look is replaced by something terribly hopeful. "So..."

So. Felix shakes his head, but that's enough for him, right now. "Do you need the breakfast table along with the rope, or should we move this elsewhere?" he asks dryly.

"Bedposts would be helpful, yes." Claude's grin is wide as he nudges against Felix, until he steps back enough that Claude can move his ass off of the table and out of the butter danger zone. "Dimitri, you know those silk ropes they use for the bell pulls? Get someone to send a decent length up to your room, before you get too busy with running your country. Tell them you're measuring for new ones, or something."

Sylvain makes an almost pained noise, distracted by mental images instead of how asinine it is for a king to be measuring silk bell pulls. "You're going to kill me, Riegan."

If anyone sounds more pained than Sylvain, it's Dimitri as he stares over at them with a wide eye. "You're doing it in my room?"

Alright, maybe all of this is worth it, and Felix can't help the self-satisfied smirk that begins to tug at his lips. Claude is a lot more casual. "Where better, Your Majesty?" he says lightly. "You've got the sturdiest bed."

Sylvain actually grabs Dimitri and hauls him out of his seat straight towards the door out of their private little dining area. "We need to leave before he snares us," he says, a man high-key suffering. "Or makes this any harder than it already is."

"It's already hard, Sylvain!" Dimitri bemoans, stumbling after his lover. Felix laughs at their backs, all the way until they disappear through the door and it clicks into place when shut once more.

It's only with the two of them gone does Felix pull himself away from Claude properly, ending the subconscious show they were putting on for their other lovers. "Have anyone you need to inform about your little disappearing act for the day?" he asks lazily, running his fingers through his own hair. It's still early in the morning, so he's not yet bothered to put it up in any sort of ponytail or more elaborate style. If it were a breakfast with anyone but Claude and his childhood friends, no doubt it'd be a huge faux pas. It probably still is. Felix doesn't really care. All he cares about is if he should even bother putting it up at all, with his morning now firmly taken up by him. "Or will they just assume you're getting up to trouble and leave it at that?"

"Mm... I'll let Hilda know I'm going to be indisposed for a few hours." Claude grins at him, his own hair a mess of curls around his face. He hadn't bothered to style his hair this morning either. "I'll go see her on the way to Dimitri's room. You can wait for me there." Lifting one hand, he trails a finger along the edge of Felix's jaw. "Try not to be too impatient," he purrs, eyes a too vivid green.

A not too insubstantial part of Felix wants to nip at that finger, take it in his mouth and keep eye contact as he sucks on it. It's kind of dumb, honestly. Claude von Riegan has never topped in his life, and Felix isn't even sure if he's going to do that today. So all he does is smirk back at him. "Try not to disappoint me," he says instead, not afraid to goad him a little bit before he turns away.

Even if everyone knew their little private breakfast was going to be an informal one, there's a line between informal and "definitely was going to fuck a man on a dining table" when it comes to how one presents. Felix makes the effort to straighten his clothes out, so that he looks somewhat presentable, before he finally leaves the room himself. Unlike Dimitri and Sylvain, he's not in so much of a rush.

Besides, they're going to be covering for him, right? So he supposes he can just... relax, for once, strange a concept as that may seem. As he makes his way through the halls, taking care to use the routes that he knows will have him run into the least amount of people, Felix can't help but reflect on how odd that feels, in its own way.

The war was hellish. He would never pretend to say that it was anything less than that. They lost countless of good people, on both sides of that nightmarish time. It stretched on for five miserable damn years, and townspeople fell, merchants fell, and of course the actual people fighting through it all. Felix isn't sure he can remember many times for most of those five years that he felt anything less than harried. It was always another Imperial tactic to keep an eye on, another rush from Cordelia's forces to keep off of the Fraldarius and Gautier lands while smaller noble houses either fell to Cordelia's persuasions or were ultimately helpless, like Galatea. When he thinks back to those times, when he thinks back on all that pressure and stress, his muscles tense up from force of habit.

Times are better, now. Felix knows that, even as he just walks through the castle that Dimitri reclaimed in what seems like another lifetime ago. There's no dirt or wear or blood on the stone floors. Some of the rugs which stretch through the halls are a little worn, but that's because Dimitri's priorities are less prettying up the castle and more making sure that their people can eat. Whenever he passes by some castle worker, Felix can see he's accomplished that. They're all bright eyed, hopeful, cheeks full of a healthy flush and some of them gaining weight now. 

There are no scared and skeletal servants in Fhirdiad Castle. There may still be some poor starved souls in Fhirdiad in general, but less than there have been for five years. They're working on it. They're always working.

Felix guesses that's a part of it, honestly. There's no assassins, no plots - they have some people with brains in their whole group, after all. His father's spy network is still in place, with notes left behind that held a lot of clues. Once upon a time, Claude slid them some papers during a diplomatic meeting with a wink and a tap of his finger to his lips. Hapi, for all her demeanor would make people think otherwise, has hunted all sorts of leads down. Are they safe? Truly safe? Felix has no idea. He thought they were when they all started their year at Garreg Mach, and was quickly proven wrong.

But they're shoring up their gaps. That counts for something, and it leaves them with, well, everything else.

So lost in his own thoughts, Felix almost doesn't realize that he's made it to his room until the door is right there in front of his face, and he comes to an abrupt stop with a couple of blinks. Saints, look at him. Scoffing at himself, he ducks in, and quickly starts to grab his own things. He's ridiculous, thinking about stupid nonsense when he's just got the majority of the day off so that Claude can try and fuck him silly. There's no point to what he's bothering about with.

The Blaiddyd and Fraldarius families have always been exceptionally close, and that means that, within the sprawling halls of the castle, his family has always had a room all to themselves. It's practically an entire house all to itself - one room for the Ducal couple, a room for their children, a bathroom, and plenty of space to entertain a guest should one come knocking. It's quite an impressive little suite.

Felix hardly ever uses it, save for pure storage. It still feels way too open and empty for him, ages after the war is done, and, anyway and more practically, they all just sneak into Dimitri's room. He has the bed for it. Felix is pretty sure a couple of servants know what's up, but... He hasn't heard any rumors, or people asking invasive questions, so he's decided he doesn't care. What's more important to him right now is packing up a few things in a small bag that he can sling over his shoulder.

If anyone looks, it won't be weird to see him walking around with things for a trip out of town briefly, or maybe something to change into have a quick training session. Besides, he really will need extra sets of clothes - both for changing into, and also for sleeping in just in case this session stretches out for a while. He grabs a book, too, just so he won't be bored, and then he's off.

Felix takes a couple of detours on the way to Dimitri's room, because he can afford to - a check in on Annette for her research she's doing for the mage school, looking in for any letters from Mercedes, things like that. By the time he gets to his actual destination, someone is already there with, indeed, some silk rope.

Dimitri certainly works quick.

Yet while that person is there, Claude isn't, so Felix takes the rope "on behalf of Dimitri", and slips inside. With nothing really left to do, and no idea on what Claude wants to do, Felix flops into a seat near the fireplace (currently not roaring) and digs out his book. It's an account of someone's visits into Dagda, and the sheer amount of different fighting styles they have there. It's been slow reading, but fascinating. Felix doesn't need long himself to get caught up into it.

It takes around ten more minutes for Claude to show up. Felix knows it's him because of the specific way he knocks; it's hard to describe to other people. There's just a way to it, a sharp and quick cadence, and then he slides in through the open door and grins when he sees him. Felix knows because he's watching him over his book from the plush armchair that's going to be hell to drag himself out of. "Dimitri worked fast," Felix says, and nods over to the bed where he's laid out the silk rope. "That silver tongue of yours really never fails, does it?"

"Oh, once or twice it has," he says, heading immediately over to the bed instead of to Felix. At least he has his priorities straight. Leaning over the bed, he starts to run his hand along the sheets besides the rope, pausing now and then. Probably measuring it. "Could you do me a favor, Felix, and start getting undressed for me?" With that request asked, he pulls a dagger out from his belt. Not a lot of guests to the castle get to carry weaponry on them like that, but Claude's always been an exception.

Well, if he asks so nicely... Felix pushes himself up onto his feet. "Wow, straight to it, no foreplay," he says dryly, placing the book to the side. It's just a joke, really. Felix certainly can't say anything to anyone on being hasty and forgetting foreplay now and then. What he can do is press one boot up against the arm of the chair, beginning the long process of undoing the laces.

From where he's cutting the silk rope to his own private specifications, Claude grins at him. "Oh, there will be plenty of foreplay," he promises. "But for what I'm planning, it's best for you to be undressed from the start." Taking one of the ropes, he moves up to one of the bedposts near the headboard. "When you're ready, can you lay on the bed for me? I want to make sure I can set this up where you're comfortable."

Huh. Felix wastes no time in stripping his clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor, before he walks over. If he were more, well... persuasive or whatever, he could probably make it a "sexy" walk... whatever that looks like. He has no idea, frankly, and he's more curious than anything. "We've leapt to bondage already in our relationship, huh?" he asks.

Funny. It felt like only the other day that they'd finally accepted each other as romantic partners. Way back when, Felix used to think that they'd just be their own... separate things. Felix came in with Dimitri, and Claude came in with Sylvain, and it seemed like they'd be fine as just... existing in the general area while loving the same men.

Now here they are, with Felix crawling onto a bed with absolutely nothing on. Rolling onto his back, he stretches out languidly before letting his limbs go loose. He has a rough idea of where they go from here, after all. "You know, I thought I was done with bed for the morning. I'd be annoyed if this were any other circumstance."

Claude winks. "Ultimately, the plan is for you to be anything but annoyed. But, of course, tying you up does suggest you'll end up at least somewhat frustrated in your ability to do things..."

Well that's a given. Felix rolls his eyes a little bit, but he doesn't fight Claude as his lover reaches for one wrist and begins to tie the silk rope around it. If he's honest, it's a  - peculiar sensation, to just lay there, willing, unresisting, as his movement is taken away. At least, any movement that could substantially do anything. Claude is conscientious about it. (Yeah, that's the right word: conscientious.) He leaves the rope with just enough slack to it that Felix can relax his arms, and then his legs when he does the same thing at the ankles. None of the rope is too tight, either, which a part of Felix thought it would be. But no. It straddles a bizarre line between restraint and comfort.

And it hardly takes much time at all. Claude is done in a handful of minutes, stepping away to survey his work. "How's that?"

Felix scrunches his mouth up, curling in his palms as he tugs up at the rope to his wrists. Shortly after, he tries to dig his heels against the mattress and tries with there, too. "Strange," he admits slowly after a moment, going slack against the bed. It takes another few seconds for him to make the connection to why. "You know, I always thought that if I were tied up, it would be for a worst case scenario."

He was always the son of a duke, after all, even before he became the only son of a duke. Even before war. People would want to grab such a commodity item if they could manage it, not that Felix would have ever let it happen without a fight. The kinds of things they could have bargained from his father when he was a child... Or maybe the way they could have held back the Kingdom, during the war and before everything became united again.

But no. His first time being tied up, and it's on his king's bed, by the king of another nation, because they're going to fuck. Presumably.

Claude, even more cautious and with more reason for it, smiles in sympathetic understanding. "You're safe with me," he assures him, brushing his finger along Felix's jaw as he leans in. "I promise."

And he really means it, too. Felix can see it in his eyes, more earnest and soft than they normally are. Claude is a person who keeps a lot close to his chest. But for this...

Felix breathes out slow, and tilts his head back to follow those gentle fingers at his skin. "I know," he admits, allowing himself a bit of softness in turn. Allowing Claude that bit of softness. "I wouldn't have gotten on the bed otherwise."

"I know you know," Claude says, and leans down to press a flutter-quick kiss upon his mouth. "But I thought it might help to hear it, too." And then, of course, he grins. "Especially before I put the blindfold on."

What.

"What," Felix says, and the look on his face must be fucking comical before something in the way Claude's eye shine hints he's holding back laughter. "Wait, a blindfold is a part of the equation!?"

"Mhm. At least to start with." Reaching down for his belt with his spare hand, Claude winks at him. "I'll be playing things by ear a little. But you know..." His fingers trail away from Felix's jaw, skim across his throat, and flow down to his sternum. "Not being able to see what's coming heightens sensations."

"It makes your mind focus on all of your other senses, I know," Felix says with a huff, because even he knows that. "You're really going all out with this then, huh? fine."

Claude's grin doesn't lessen in the slightest. "Would you expect any less? Would any less even work?"

"I'll let you know when I have a scale for what even less means." Felix rolls his eyes. After all, he's never really done this kind of play before. Sometimes he's been on the other side of it, but he has to admit that he's more dominating and aggressive in other ways. Bondage is... going to be an experiment, then, he guesses. "So you're going to use the silk for that too?"

Promptly, Claude shakes his head even as he's already speaking. "Oh, no. I have a headband that I use sometimes." And that's when his hand finally undoes the small pouch on his belt and slips inside.

What he pulls out is a colorful band - actually, no, it's really more of a scarf in terms of length, although Felix would never say it's thick enough to survive the Fodlan chill. Then again, that thinness means it can likely be wrapped around the head more than once. The colors are brilliant, and the patterns a wonderful tapestry of geomatric shapes. Felix has seen Claude wear it more than once ever since he left Fodlan, when he's come back as an official representative of Almyra.

"Nice Almyran fabric," Claude says, maybe a little proud in a quiet and subtle way as he confirms Felix's suspicions.

Felix snorts a little bit, although he can't help but be fond as well. "Trying the Almyran colors on me in preparation of our wedding day?" he teases. "Although the way you talk, it sounds like you've used it before. Who was it?"

"Besides myself?" Claude chuckles, which is probably no surprise whatsoever. They all long ago came to that realization - that Claude likes being bound, and made to guess at the kind of things that might happen to him next, so long as he's with people he's trust. Felix thinks it does something for his overactive brain. "Only Sylvain. So you're in good company."

That's also not much of a surprise, Felix reflects as Claude finally reaches down with scarf in hand and he raises his head to make the job easier. A part of him thinks Sylvain has always been the more adventurous of them when it comes to the sort of things one can get up to in the bedroom. He's not so held back by the kind of ideas Dimitri has about his own sexuality (although he's had plenty of other weird ideas they've all had to deal with). Plus, he's not as impatient as Felix is, at least most of the time. Not without the right provocation. Combine him with another clever mind like Claude, and, well...

Claude's voice breaks through the scarf that's just started to go around Felix's head. "Am I actually on your radar for marriage, though? I always figured I'd come in last with you, when I've got Sylvain and Dimitri to compete against. Nothing against me, mind you, but I can't really compete with the amount of time you've known them so I don't know if I can compete with your depth of feeling for them, either."

Oh, so he's actually going to.... talk about that off-hand comment. "To be honest?" Felix asks, after he lets out a slow breath right between his teeth. "I have no idea. I've always been honest when I've told those two idiots that it's too soon to be thinking about that kind of thing. I'm still adjusting to the idea of a future where marriage to someone can happen at all. During so much of the war, probably - listen, just a lot of it, I was convinced we were all going to die anyway... or at least Dimitri and I were."

He forces those last words out like he would spit out a tooth. It's not good, to think of all of that back then, but... He'd felt for sure that it would happen. It was a miracle in the first place that Dimitri had survived at all, and yet, back then, Felix hadn't really been able to think of it like that. With the kind of person that Dimitri had become, could that really be 'survival'? And if it was, just how long would Dimitri last?

Could Felix really let him go off into the cold of it all alone? 

Claude finishes winding the headband around his eyes, lowering Felix's head back down to the pillows in the meantime. "You spent a lot of it thinking he was dead already, too," he says gently, and Felix can feel the way his fingers move around his head, tugging - not, gently straightening out his hair from where it lays. It takes Felix a second to realize how much more comfortable he's making him, with none of his hair caught anywhere or even just messed up. "And then of course when you finally found him again.. He wasn't exactly in his right state of mind."

This is the stupidly incredible and infuriating thing about Claude von Riegan, King Khalid of Almyra, Felix has decided. It's like he can just reach into Felix's head and pluck out all of his thoughts. He can't be that obvious, can he? Better to think that Claude is just that smart, because the alternative is Felix being an idiot and never knowing it.

While he's stewing over thoughts of Claude being too smart, that gives the man himself plenty of time to think. "You seem to make a lot of jokes about marriage for someone who isn't sure how he feels about it." From where he's sitting besides him, Felix feels Claude shift on the bed, and he wonders how the man is looking at him now.

"It still doesn't feel real." If Felix could shrug, he would. His current position makes that more than a little impossible, however, and so all he can do is spread his fingers out wide from where his wrists are held. "And anyway, I haven't been making that many jokes. Didn't the rest of you start it, during breakfast?" He's pretty sure that's what happened. Some of it was kind of a blur before he started making out with Claude and Claude had to desperately fight to keep his ass from landing in toast.

There's a touch, again, and Felix is pleased to say he's not startled when he feels Claude's fingers come up to his jaw again. "None of that means you have to talk about it." Down along his throat, now. "I think, deep down... You like the idea. I think part of you is aching for it, even if you're half scared of it. That's why you can't leave it alone..."

"I've left it alone plenty," Felix says, and swallows. It's strange, to feel the way Claude's fingers roll over his adam's apple. "Are you sure you're not projecting a little bit here?"

"Positive." Claude's chuckle is as warm as his fingers. "Give me even one explanation that's more plausible for why you keep bringing it up, even when no one's talking about it, than your having a fascination for the thought."

Felix turns his head to the side, feels his hair slide against his own skin when he tests his bonds. Still no give. He wishes his conviction were the same. Then again, those knots were tied by Claude. "That it was just something we all talked about... But I guess that's not going to cut it as an explanation."

"Not for regularly bringing it up out of the blue, no." Before Felix can once again complain that Claude is making a mountain out of a molehill, there's a faint gust of hot air against his skin. That's his only warning, the realization that the fingers have left, before he feels Claude's teeth graze against his throat. Without his pants constricting him, it somehow is more noticeable to him how his cock twitches in response. "But I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable here, so we don't have to explore that or anything. It's just something you might want to examine in yourself at some point. Maybe it'll help you figure out how you feel."

A not particularly small part of him wants to roll his head back, offer more up to Claude, but that's giving the game away far too quickly. Instead, Felix takes advantage of Claude's big mouth and focuses on the conversation instead. "You know... I keep telling Sylvain and that boar I'm not a romantic. I'm going to end up ruining my own reputation at this point."

There's the faintest sound that he wants to say is a huff of laughter; it's hard to tell exactly without seeing Claude's expression. The amused tone he takes on when he speaks helps, however. "I don't know of any tangible benefits to not being one, outside of maintaining that reputation you built for yourself that you absolutely don't have to." With that, Claude then pulls away.

He's still on the bed. Felix can feel the weight of him there, comforting and present. It's just that he has no idea what he's doing, or thinking. What - is he admiring his handiwork? Felix keeps talking, because, despite him not being a social person, this one occasion is the one where it feels weird not to. "It's a reputation that I like perfectly fine, thanks-"

A flutter against his skin, his chest, not fingers but - Felix jerks in surprise. Whatever it is doesn't feel like it should be anything. There's no substance to it, no weight. Just something touching him. "What- is that!?" he chokes out, forcing himself to go still so that he can better analyze what he's feeling.

"Nothing bad, but for the sake of this little exercise, I'm not going to tell you." He can just hear the smile in Claude's voice. The flickery, barely there sensation traces loose and nonsensical patterns all along Felix's chest.

What a bullshit answer, made all the more infuriating in that staying still isn't helping him whatsoever. If anything, it's somehow making the sensation worse. "I'm pretty aware of it being nothing bad. Might as well say nothing if you're going to give that as your answer," Felix grouches. Frankly, all it does is make him more inclined to not give any reaction whatsoever, and so Felix takes in a slow deep breath. This is fine. He can do this. It's fine-

Promptly, at the whims of an absolute bastard, the sensation starts to circle around - and occasionally over - his nipple.

Felix jerks again, because dammit that's a low blow, and his mouth twists as he does his best to go back to stillness. It's - hard. And not just his dick, although that's slowly starting to react too even if only out of curiosity. But it's such a weird and soft little feeling, and right there, of all places? What is he supposed to do, exactly?

The answer comes when something hot wraps around his other nipple, and Claude's tongue swirls around it. "Shit," Felix curses, hips jolting a little bit before he can stop them. He tries to jerk one hand down, to do - something, don't ask him what, but of course it's completely locked in place. Really, he should have known this was coming. "Hello to you too, King Khalid."

Claude's laugh is warm against tongue-damp skin. "I hate to tell you this, but I've barely gotten started, so if you're already failing to pretend I'm getting to you, you may as well give up now."

"Hey, Claude?" Felix takes in a deep breath, and finds his neverending well of stubbornness deep inside of himself. "Me being surprised isn't the same as you getting to me."

"I'll keep working then," he says, so calm and confident that it's kind of enough to drive Felix wild anyway. Still, he draws some manner of calm into himself, and is pleased when he doesn't so much as squirm at the feel of Claude's teeth scraping against his skin. It sends a tingle, a shock of sensation, up his spine, but... He doesn't react. A deep breath. Good.

The good thing about Claude is that he's just as up to a challenge as Felix is. After a little bit more of this teasing, he pulls away from Felix's body. There's the sound of - scratching? A single scratch? Scrape? It's harsh and quiet, done in less than a heartbeat. Felix doesn't think too much of it.

What's more important, although unsurprising, is for that faint tickling sensation to return against his skin. It begins slowly, trailing down his stomach, and then down even further past. Felix would bite off his tongue before ever admitting it, but his pelvis has always been a little... sensitive, and his muscles clench as he feels that whatever-it-is flit past. And then, of course... It's flowing down the length of his cock, and Felix takes in another breath, forces his body still.

He's not really hard yet. Far from it. Yet that doesn't mean he isn't sensitive, and he bites down on his tongue a little, hoping Claude doesn't notice. This is a good opportunity, right? Claude still hasn't told him just what the hell he's using on him. So, as best he can with his heels digging into Dimitri's plush sheets, Felix rolls his hips up in an attempt for even so much as a tiny clue for what the hell Claude is using on him.

No dice. It completely doesn't help whatsoever. Whatever Claude is using, it's not substantial at all, and either Claude is pulling it away when he tries to arch up, or there's just... nothing to it. Felix can't tell which. He huffs, still doing his best and trying to ignore how Claude teases the very tip of him with that soft touch. The little...

Claude pulls away, and there's a shift on the bed. "You trust me, right?" he asks, in that very casual way where Felix is pretty sure he's not actually casual at all.

"That's sure a question to ask while I'm tied up and blindfolded," Felix asks, collapsing back onto the bed in surrender. This isn't the kind of thing he would let just anyone do.

"Can't blame a man for checking," Claude says.

And then something hot hits his skin.

Felix's entire body jolts at the shock of pain that stings through him at the contact, something liquid and smooth that has his fists and feet straining at their restraints. Even when the heat fades away shockingly quick, that doesn't take care of the actual shock. Hitting the bed again, breath rapid, Felix tries to pull his frazzled brain back together. How quickly the thing - languid and thick against his chest - had cooled is almost dizzying, which certainly doesn't help him in a way.

"Fuck," he says, a breathless snarl, and he tosses his head back. Okay. Calm. He needs to calm down. Yet all his brain can do is focus on the strange sensation slowly dripping along his skin, and... other things. The resolute dig of silk against his wrists, his ankles. How pain and energy buzzes through his veins. And then what's cooling against him, becoming a little harder...

Oh. He breathes out again, finding that his lungs still somehow miraculously work. So that's the little trick Claude set up, a good few minutes ago before they'd really gotten started. It's wax that's cooling against his skin, the sluggish slide of it now almost completely still. A part of him is... maybe disappointed. That burst of adrenaline, the shock of pain through his system - if he's honest, then it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Maybe even good.

Felix flicks his tongue over his lips, tries to coax his voice into being at least a little less breathless when he speaks. "You're an overprepared freak, you know. When did you get that all ready? Did you actually bring it with you?"

"I didn't," Claude says mildly. When he stops speaking, Felix strains his hearing for the sound of flame crackling, a smell that his nose can pick up on - anything. But the candle Claude is using doesn't seem to be a particularly large or potent kind of thing... At least not at the distance he's possibly keeping it at. "I just used one of the candles from Dimitri's nightstand."

Of course. Obviously. When Claude says it, Felix feels momentarily like an entire Saints-damned idiot. Dimitri's room can't be lit by the windows and the sunlight they draw in all the time. It's just - when's the last time he thought about the kinds of things that were on his nightstand?

Those thoughts are nudged out of his head at a familiar and welcome palm sliding against his skin, over the hardening wax. Claude rubs his thumb against it, until Felix can feel it crumble and flake off from the attention. There's something strange about the sensation, feeling how much his fingers press in against wax and the skin underneath it. He bites onto his tongue, forces himself not to make a sound. "Your skin's red," Claude murmurs.

"I wonder why," Felix responds, a little dryly. He can't help himself; it's just what he defaults to. What else is he supposed to say? What kind of expression is Claude making as he looks down on him?

Claude's touch pulls back, but only a little bit. Just enough to begin softly stroking the sensitive skin that the wax left behind. Felix can't stop his body from shivering. "Do you want more?" Claude asks.

"I..." There's another stroke against his skin, and it feels like it rattles his brain out of place. That's stupid. The adrenaline still in his body feels like it's jittering through every vein. "Where?"

"Your chest. Or your stomach. You wouldn't thank me if I did it anywhere with hair." Some of that patient calm lifts a bit, so that Felix can hear the smile in Claude's voice again. "And, well... I think the skin of your cock is too sensitive for this kind of thing."

"If you put that anywhere near my dick, I'm tearing out of this silk and Almyra will be without a king," Felix tells him, a little more breath in him now. That hurt just being on his torso. His dick? Please. Still, he knows that's not really any sort of answer, so he takes a gulp of air, steadies himself. "...Stomach."

"Noted," Claude says in amusement, and Felix can't tell if that's directed to his threat, or to the answer that he gives. It doesn't really matter. In short order, Claude follows through with the order Felix had demanded of him.

It's just - different, this time. It's not all at once, one big drip of wax where he could get over his shock quickly enough even with the surprise and shock. Instead, it's a series, a series of hot wax droplets that are so small that, almost as soon as Felix jolts from the heat, they've cooled off already. It's all against his abdomen, making him shiver, and Felix bites down on his lip. They don't shift off of him, either. They simply stay in place.

What does stay the same is Claude's eagerness to touch him. Once again, his fingers are back against Felix's skin, and flick the small hardened drops off. "I feel like I'm painting a canvas," he says. "Except it was already a masterpiece when I got here."

The skin beneath the wax can't be the only part of him that's red. Felix knows this because of the way he feels his cheeks heat up beneath the blindfold. Fruitlessly, he tries to turn his head so that he can press them into the pillows again. He knows it won't do anything, but he has to try. Unfortunate that his hair is in the way. "You... and your flattery." It takes effort to keep his voice from trembling, which he sort of hates, and even then that's not really a success. "You and Sylvain are exactly the same there."

"And you love Sylvain perhaps more than anyone else on the earth." There it is again, that smile in his voice. "Not a bad person to emulate here, I think."

The pillow is doing nothing for him, so Felix gives up and turns his face up so he can spit his hair out. "Pretty sure Sylvain wouldn't try something like this," he says, and twitches in surprise when he feels Claude's hand come over to gently brush his hair away. "So you're on your own there."

"You're right there," Claude agrees. Sylvain loves all of them so much, with a kind of unbridled adoration that he never felt he could express in any of his other relationships. It's just the kind of love that holds him back, too, cautious at the idea that he might go too far and hurt them just like he has plenty of other women before. Granted, Felix is pretty sure Sylvain never used hot wax on any of his past lovers...

Not like Claude, hot wax pooling onto Felix's skin again, and a raw gasp tears out of Felix before he can entirely stop it. The heat burns down into him, gathers along him near his navel without dripping in, and there's something intense about the heat there of all places. It matches the heat a little further down, slowly growing firm. Felix promptly drives his teeth down into his lip, forces his voice into nonexistence.

There's another small pool of wax a distance from the first. "You don't have to hold back your reactions, you know," Claude murmurs as the wax trickles down. With that, however, he stops the game, and the two of them sit there - well, Claude sits there. Felix just lays, and quakes, and lets out shuddering breaths from between his teeth as the wax hardens.

While it chills on Felix's stomach, there's a rough patting sound, and soft crinkling noises. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it's the sound of Claude brushing wax detritus off of the blankets. "It's not like I'm going to judge you, and I'm the only one here. I want to know how much you're reacting. I want to know what you're enjoying, and what you aren't. If you hide things from me, I can't make this as good for you as I want to, you know?"

That hand returns to Felix's skin, his stomach, scraping and pulling away the wax until sensitive skin is exposed to air he could have swore wasn't this cool when he first laid down. His muscles tense at it, at how Claude's gentle fingers smooth across them. Felix has to force them to relax again, as contrary as that seems. "I have to," he manages to force out, biting down on his lip again when he feels Claude's breathe flow over where wax once did. "I just - I can't let you get the upper hand, I don't know." It sounds stupid, when he lets his mouth just run off like that.

"Can you tell me why?" Claude asks, the words flowing where wax once did, before he presses a gentle kiss down to this newest patch of sensitive skin. "What consequence is there to reacting honestly that you don't want to happen?"

Shit. What is it about Claude's mouth that feels extra good right now? "Have to," Felix echoes, the adrenaline that's still pumping through his system blocking off the more indepth explanations, words that could so much as make a complete sentence. This is stupid. It didn't even hurt that much, for that long, not compared to other things in his life. and Claude's lips feel good, almost too good. Felix squirms underneath it. "I just - I can't let you get the upper hand, I don't know." 

"Sshh." It's a soft hush, reassuring. Not the kind of shushing that a person would do to shut another up, but like- Felix doesn't want to consider that he's being treated like a horse right now. There's another shift against the bed, something that makes the mattress sort of bounce, and then Claude's fingers are in his hair. Against his hair. For some reason, something he can't explain besides that it's in the soft pressure and reassuring motion, it draws a noise out of his throat. It's not quite a whimper, but it's still more than he meant to give.

Felix bites down against it, of course, but Claude doesn't stop. He just continues to softly pet him. "This isn't a fight, Felix," he tells him gently, all palm and no nails as he strokes his hair. "This is me pleasuring you. My having the upper hand here is meant to feel good for you. And I'm not taking it from you by force - you're giving it to me, because you want the pleasure I'm going to give you. So there's no shame in my having what you gave me, right?"

His hand pulls back again, just enough to sweep Felix's bangs out of his face. It feels a little better, not having them stick to his cheeks or forehead. Less... bothersome. Felix tries to follow that fleeting touch, but Claude just slides it against his hair again. "You let me tie you up. You're letting me do these things to you. Because you trust me, and you want me to show you all the ways I can make you feel amazing. Right? So there's no shame in letting me know what works, and what doesn't. There's no shame in any of this for you, no matter what happens, no matter what you do or don't do. Because you gave me this opportunity. You had the ultimate control in whether I could do this at all. So you enjoying this choice you made, what you're letting me do - that's not a victory for me."

A beat, his fingers deep in Felix's hair.

"Well, it is," Claude amends, "but only in the sense that I want to make you feel good, so succeeding at that is a win. It's not a victory at your expense, though. It's a shared victory, because you wanted me to do this, too. So holding back just undermines your own choice."

The nice thing about Claude's talkative tendencies is that it's like a kind of... blank noise, at times. The way that the crackle of a fire is, or listening to the quiet thuds of a kitchen knife, that kind of thing. A part of him still feels like so much is still echoing inside of him, enough that it'll make him shake and fall apart. But that's only one part. The rest is soothed, from the cadence of Claude's voice and the repetitive motion of his palm against his hair.

Put all together, and it makes it easier to speak than before. "I don't... Fuck." Well, as easier as it's ever been for him, and Felix swallows like wetting his throat will make the words come easier instead of just his voice. "I don't know how to sit back. Even Dima had to pin me down, the first time we had sex. I'd wanted him to do it."

If he's not fighting, if he's not participating... Felix has no idea what to do. What he even can do. He knows that the whole thing probably doesn't make any real sense, but then again, he's not exactly in the best place to psycho-analyze his own various issues.

Claude is in a much better position for that kind of thing, and he uses that position to lean down and kiss him. "You're technically pinned right now," he points out with no small bit of amusement. Maybe that's because Felix tries to follow him in the aftermath of the kiss for a quick bite. "And you wanted me to do this, too. Reacting to what I'm doing is all you can do, Felix. So don't try to fight it. Not reacting would just be sitting back. Letting yourself is participating." His leg brushes against Felix's side, and his warm breath is a herald of the kisses that follow it and the length of Felix's neck. 

"You don't have to define yourself by fighting things." The words tickle the side of his throat, and that tickle translates to a twitch down at his cock. When Felix takes in a breath, he thinks he can still smell the sweet syrup that came with their breakfast, sticking to Claude's person. "Sometimes you can embrace them. And I think you learning how to do that - how to fight against the things you want to fight against, without kneejerk resisting the things you actually want - is pretty important. It's one thing if you want to be like that, but like you said... It's another thing entirely if you don't know how to be otherwise."

Those kisses are soon followed by a scrape of Claude's teeth, and Felix fights against himself, this time, and lets a soft needy noise leave his throat. But he's still himself, in the end. "Dima also fucked me stupid right off the bat," he points out, difficult to the end. "So it's different from how you drive me up the wall."

Pulling away, Claude says brightly, "Well then, think of this as all the foreplay you missed." And then there's that feather light and ambiguous brush against his skin again.

Only, it's not just any part of his body. It's directly against the parts of him where the wax hit, and Felix outright whimpers. It's somehow so soft, so delicate, to be overwhelming. Surely he'd sound like an idiot, explaining how something so gentle can set his nerves on fire and make him curse. "Fuck - what is that!?"

"Don't you think if I told you, it might lessen the effect?" Claude chuckles, because he can't ever make these kinds of things easy. "If you're really dying to know... I'll let you see once I take off the blindfold. How's that?"

"Fuck you," Felix says, which is probably predictable. Still, he feels back to normal now, even if those sweet caresses are setting his teeth on edge and his cock ever harder. What kind of sense does that even make? Don't ask him. "If you make me go out of my mind with desire or whatever nonsense you boasted about, by the end of this, I might not even recognize I'm on a bed, let alone identify whatever it is you have in your hand."

Claude's laugh is bright and full, a burst out of him that can't really be called pretty but is beautiful in its own way. If it's embarrassing to say this soft touch is getting him hard, Felix thinks it's even moreso to admit hearing Claude laugh like this gets to him in a way nothing else really does. "You'll go back to processing things as normal eventually. Dimitri breaks my brain in half, fucking me sometimes, but look at me now! I'm almost back up to recognizing simple shapes again."

That stupid teasing tone of his. Felix loves him for it, and it's easier to focus on that a bit when Claude pulls the whatever-it-is away. That doesn't stop Felix from snorting. "At least someone can undo you, then. I'll have to remind him of that the next time we have to negotiate for anything."

A snicker, next, which is a little more devious than his laughter. "You know he's too upstanding to use that against me... although it would be helpful for your negotiations if he would."

"He might be too upstanding, but I'm not. I'll jusssssssst-!" Felix's words break apart in a sharp hiss, because of course that's when Claude drips more hot wax down onto him. It's a small pool right at his hip. It's far enough to the side to run down the curve of him, all the more so when he arches his back into the brilliant pain of it. He can feel it rapidly cooling as it falls along his hip, down to his ass. 

Felix doesn't realize it's kind of stayed there until Claude's hand is brushing off the cooled wax from him again, and a low purr rolls through the air into Felix's ear as his touch wanders underneath him. It's that grip that keeps Felix upright, forcing his spine to stay in the arch until it becomes almost painful... and only then does Claude slip his hand away, allowing Felix to collapse against the blankets once more.

He takes it gladly, the breath rushing out of him as he hits so much softer fabric. The shock rattles about in his skull, a bird that's been let loose, and Felix tries to focus on his breathing again. It's just automatic; he's not thinking too hard on it. All of his focus goes to his lungs, which means it takes him a moment to realize that Claude hasn't... done anything.

No touches, no words, not even that satisfied purr of a noise. Just silence. What's going on up there?

"Wait here a moment," he says suddenly. The bed creaks a little as he leans forward, lips a quick and solid imprint against Felix's sternum, and the he's gone. It hits Felix just how noticeable his absence is immediately, with no pressure besides him as the mattress dips in acknowledgement of another body's weight.

Felix dislikes it about as quickly, mouth twisting to show his displeasure. Sure, he might have been fighting against it all, but he had been enjoying it. Maybe a little more than a person probably should have, if his mildly hard dick is any indication. Claude's sudden absence is jarring, a removal of everything he'd started to like. Stopping his breathing, Felix does his best to listen to the state of the room. Nothing, because of course not. Claude wears soft slippers for morning and evening activities, if he doesn't have anything else planned. He's quiet even beyond that.

So while Felix thinks he can hear a whisper of silk fluttering against itself, maybe the sound of a breath... He can't actually be sure. And it doesn't even matter, frankly, because no vague sound could make up for Claude's actual presence - his pleasant voice, the weight of him, even the stupid sweet scent that clung to him from breakfast because Felix almost shoved his ass into the butter container.

In the same way that the wax peeled away had left his skin prickling, so too does Claude's absence. Felix grits his teeth, and finds that his feet soon follow as they struggle to find purchase against Dimitri's stupid soft bed. He's not going to do anything,  obvious, but to do nothing is a million times worse.

Fortunately, he only has to deal with nothing for around a minute or so. Soon, the bed dips again - not besides him, but at the foot, and there's the constant tug and shift of the blankets as Claude crawls up onto it again. "Back to business," he says cheerfully as he makes his way up along Felix's legs, arms bracketing them. That position is the only hint Felix gets to Claude's plot.

And Claude's plot is to swallow up his cock.

The warm, soft heat that envelopes him hits Felix like a gut punch, leaving him breathless and jerking in place. He moans, the sound reverberating through what feels like his whole body, and he rolls his hips up to chase more of that feeling. The inside of Claude's mouth is like salvation. Just like salvation, it's hard as hell to get. Claude keeps him at bay, moving his head along with Felix's hips. Felix can only get what Claude is willing to give him.

That happens to be not nearly as much as Felix would like. He sucks at Felix teasingly, his smile easy to feel where it curves along his now quickly growing arousal. "Claude," Felix hisses, trying for a feint as he relaxes his body in hopes of being able to roll up again, of being able to go deeper.

Games like that never work with Claude. A low hum rolls from his throat straight down to Felix's cock, and the jerk from his hips is held back by one simple hand that sprawls out along his hip. Fine. Fine! He gets it. Felix might get it with his muscles tensing, and his head tossed to the side, but he gets it. He finally sinks back against the bed, a shallow breath rattling out of him.

A surrender, for whatever Claude wants to do to him.

True to form, Claude wastes no time in taking advantage of his condition. Felix can feel him wiggle into a more comfortable position against the bed, his arms bumping into Felix's calves as he pries his lips off of him for a second. Just a second, and then he's moving back onto him. This time, it's with a careful drag of his tongue, taking in every little vein and curve of his arousal. 

Felix focuses on his breathing. In. Out. In. Claude traces his lips right along the crown of his cock, breath toying at every little curve and sensitive space. Out. A small suck, making Felix's toes curl - In. In. Claude takes him in again, the fingers of his other hand wrapping around the base of Felix's arousal like he really needs the reminder that he's not going to swallow Felix whole. He just dips down a little bit. Out. The flat of his tongue presses down against him, into the slit, and Felix tries to arch upwards into it again even though he knows that won't do anything.

At least Claude doesn't seem to mind. All he does is hum again, and maybe it's just a genuine and thoughtful little habit, or maybe it's meant to pull another moan out of him again. Well, he's sure as hell successful there.

There's no point in complaining about it. Felix prefers rolling his head back, the blindfold digging awkwardly into his hair, and letting loose a guttural moan. Fucking Claude, with the clever way his tongue swirls around his cock, and how he knows the exact moment to suck sharp and hard so that Felix bucks. He's always been too damn good at this. Felix loves him for it. Loves being able to just focus on the rasp of his tongue, the press of his lips against his length that's been worked almost all the way up-

Someone knocks on the door.

Felix bites down hard on his tongue, because the alternative is yelling a swear so loud to the ceiling that he's pretty sure the entire castle would hear it. Of fucking course someone who nose on over right now. He's trying to think of the least suspicious way to yell fuck off when Claude pulls his mouth off of his dick with an audible p o p. "Oh, I'll get that," he says brightly, straightening up from the bed and leaving Felix devoid of his touch once more. "Don't get up."

Felix hisses, air too cool on his cock, but it's just a reaction, just automatic. The pit of him freezes, and his nails bite down into the palms of his hand. "Claude." He strains his fists against the silk. "I'm right here! Don't-!" Frantically, his heart beating a million miles a minute in his chest, Felix tries to remember the layout of Dimitri's room. Where is Dimitri's bed, can it be seen easily from a simple crack of the door? Who could even be visiting, at this time in the day? Why? Are his bonds loose enough that he could shift, hide the state of himself?

Every thought only fuels the panicked adrenaline that beats through him as it is, a self-fulfilling cycle with no signs of stopping. Except then there's Claude's touch, his palm, fingers spreading against right beneath his chest. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone else see you like this," he murmurs, reassuring, and then almost - dark. "I like the idea of keeping this for myself..."

Oh. Felix swallows, thick and dry. He's never heard that kind of tone, not from Claude. Dimitri, of course, all the time whenever he gets worked up by any one of them. Sylvain sometimes, whether to goad them or when he's goaded in turn. But Claude? Reassuring and teasing Claude? Felix shudders at the drag of those fingers as Claude pulls them away, and it finally hits him that his mouth's been hanging open this entire time. He snaps it shut, and can only listen as Claude steps away. His footsteps are a little more audible this time, soft cloth against leather and then on stone, all of it getting further away.

Then the door opens, the heavy creak of it lasting only for the briefest of seconds. Can't be open very much.

Felix tries to tell himself that. He reminds himself that he's not being seen. It's just someone on the other side of a door, through an opening that probably doesn't show even a tenth of Dimitri's room. He's completely safe, and Claude wants him all for himself.

Yet even if he's not being immediately seen... A heat pulses in the pit of his stomach, lower. Felix shudders again, forces his body to go still afterwards with a bite down onto his lip. Even if he can't be seen, even with a solid door in the way, that he's still so close to it is - Fuck. He takes in a sharp breath through his nose, feels his heart try to pound right up out of his chest. There's someone literally on the other side of the door while he's tied up with an erect cock on his king's bed, splotches of red no doubt decorated all over him from where the wax once fell...

Every little bit of him wants to vibrate out of his own skin, a pounding in his chest and between his legs that only grows stronger by the second. Yet he has to keep still, he has to keep quiet, he can't just be caught. While his mind is going in circles over that, arousal scraping the insides of his pelvis, Claude's voice suddenly rings out through the room, starts to get close. "It was just a servant bringing some things for the bedroom," he says. "We're safe."

Something is clinking together, rattling? Felix doesn't care. He just sinks against the bed as he feels Claude finally sink down onto the bed again, and there's a light thud of something hitting the wood near Felix's head. The bedside. table. "Fuck," he breathes out. "Boar things, or you things?"

Claude doesn't answer him immediately. Instead, he shifts along the bed, and a sharp gasp is dragged out of Felix as one finger drags itself up along his achingly hard arousal. "Look at this," Claude coos, his fingertip lingering at the very top. "I think you got harder while I was gone. Did you like being left unstimulated... or did you like the possibility that someone might see you like this?"

Felix bites the inside of his cheek as Claude twirls his finger around the tip of him, and his thigh muscles hurt from how tense they are. "Go rot, Riegan," he mutters, no actual bite behind his words. It's hard to be serious when he shifts his hips up in hopes of making that touch a little more substantial. "I asked first."

His usual attempts at bullshitting just earn him a laugh. "Fair enough, and so perceptive. It was something for me, as it happens..." Another stroke of his fingers down Felix's cock, wrapping around him gently, and Felix rolls his body up into the touch.

And then right into a shock of cold at his stomach.

While more familiar than sheering heat, it's still fucking cold, a shock from the highs Claude had been pulling him around before, and Felix feels almost dizzy from the sudden temperature change. He squirms against the bed, which is all he really can do. None of his movements seem to actually stop Claude. He just continues to trace the cold thing around his stomach, and whatever it is leaves behind a cool liquid that follows the curves of his stomach, drips down into his navel. "What the saints- is that ice?!"

"Mhm." Claude runs the ice over the same skin he'd tormented with wax not that long ago, and Felix tosses his head back with a hiss. The wax had left his skin sensitive enough, as is. Somehow, with the ice so cold against it... It's different. Worse. Better. "I sent a message down asking for it, the first time I left the bed. I thought about asking for it earlier, after I talked to Hilda, but.. It's better like this." His motions slow, making the ice linger over the parts of Felix that are most sensitive to it.

Incredible. "Who... even thinks to use that for sex?" Felix forces out. His grip on his own brain is starting to slip again, he can feel it.

Claude's smirk - the one he wears so damn often - is obvious in his words. It just is. "I do," he says, like it's the most common sense thing in the entire world. He drags the ice down to Felix's hip, water running down his side in drips so much faster and more intense. As Claude traces it along his pelvis, the water dripping down the different curves bit by bit...

Felix swallows, tries to get words out of his mouth, get his brain back together. It doesn't feel like it works. It just feels like he's babbling as he goes, "Are you one of those people who thinks of ways to use everything in sex?" He twitches at the latest drip of water, and he thinks his cock does, too.

"No, actually." Claude chuckles, the bed shifting beneath both of them as he leans forward and traces the ice along to the other side of Felix's hip. "A former lover introduced me to playing with temperatures like this, back in Almyra." Letting the water trickle down there, too, and no doubt enjoying the way Felix shivers... Claude drags it down the inside of his thigh, next.

His entire leg jerks violently at that, silk digging into his ankle at such a harsh motion. It doesn't take the feeling away, doesn't do anything for him. All Felix can do is turn his head to the side again, bury himself in his hair. Maybe that way, he can muffle the small noises that fumble from his lips, things that aren't words. Are too vulnerable for words. "I'll have to remember that... Make you deal with this."

"I didn't like it much, myself." Another laugh. "When have I ever liked the cold? But you're immune to such things, aren't you?"

See, that? That wicked little lilt to Claude's voice? Felix doesn't care for that shit at all. It's the sign of personal revenge instead of just doing this for whatever weird kink in the brain it taps into. That the ice lifts off of his skin doesn't reassure Felix in the slightest. Whenever Claude took away that weird tickling thing, or the wax, it was always to-

Ice touches his fucking balls.

Felix yelps, and one leg jerks so much that it's a miracle he doesn't dislocate anything. "Fuck fuck fuck-" Not ice, his brain belatedly reasons. Just two of the coldest saints damned fingers on Claude's hand, contrast to the rest of a perfectly warm palm. Only two parts of it matter. "Fuck- Get off me, Claude, fuck, you bastard, I'm going to kill you-!!!"

He hasn't even started his threat, barely the first order, before Claude has already complied. That just doesn't help the fact he can still feel that chill, stinging at his goddess damned balls. Claude's laughter isn't helping, either. "Okay! Okay, so that's a no-go, huh?"

No shit it's a no-go. Felix continues to thrash a little in his restrains, teeth bared. More than being pissed, it helps heat him up a little, and he needs all of that he can get. "I'm going to dump your corpse into the snow," he promises Claude, almost sincere about it. He's amazed his balls are still attached to his body. "You did that on purpose, you absolute scum." He knows they tease Claude a lot about how allergic he is to the cold, but this is bastard behavior, and he won't let the other man forget it.

Or, well. At least for five minutes. Claude's other hand slips between his legs carefully, fully warm and with not a trace of cold as he begins to rub along Felix's most sensitive parts: the inside of his thighs, the base of his cock, that stretch of soft area between it and his ass, and, of course, the affected area itself. He shudders a bit, shifting more into the warmer touch.

"I did do it on purpose, obviously," Claude tells him, a soothing lilt to his voice. "But I didn't know if that would be a good shock or a bad one. I'm sorry. That wasn't me trying to mess with you. I wanted to see if that'd feel good, but I wanted to test with something that wasn't actually the ice down there, first" 

Those warm fingers gently massaging up into him, not too hard, are despicable in how good they make him feel. Felix sidelines his fighting in exchange for enjoying it, letting out a shaky little breath. "I've been in cold water before, but that was... everywhere, on everything. Not just two cold fingers on- tch." But his dismissive little noise doesn't have an edge to it.

Claude's other hand goes up to his hair, stroking it. The icy temperature isn't as noticeable with so much hair in the way... and it's probably been long enough for it to fade on Claude's fingers anyway. "I thought the heat from the rest of my  hand would be a good counterpoint, but I guess it was too much in a sensitive spot." He sounds honest about it, too - repentant. "I'm learning what you like, here. And sometimes, even with good intentions, that means I'm going to experiment with something you're not into." His hand leaves Felix's sack, and Claude kisses him. "But thank you for letting me know you didn't like it. I was worried you'd be so committed to pretending you're not affected that I'd have a hard time telling what you liked and didn't like." He kisses him again, and Felix can feel the way his lips are curved into a small grin. "But that was very clear."

Felix sniffs a bit, trying to be dismissive. He's pretty sure it doesn't work. Maybe he's biased, because he can feel the sting behind his eyes and how the blindfold is sticking a little more to his cheeks. "Tell anyone, and I really will kill you," he mutters. It would probably have a better weight to it if he wasn't trying to move closer to Claude's face in an attempt to feel out another kiss. "Ugh - the warmth just made it worse."

"I won't tell anyone," Claude promises, and indulges him with another kiss. Nice and long, too, languid. Heat begins to roll through Felix's body once again. Only when he's feeling properly warmed up once more does Claude pulls away, sheets shifting underneath him. "Let's try something a little less adventurous, then..."

For a moment, Felix wonders if Claude is going to pull out another new trick up his sleeve that will have Felix attempting to kick out. And his leg does jerk a little bit - but because of the sharp splash of cold onto his skin along his hip, the burning hot wax that follows it a little further up on his stomach. The contrast is enough to make him feel like he's stumbling while held perfectly in place, and Felix bites down on his hip.

Cold, hot, cold a bunch of times in a row, followed by a splattering of wax that ends in a pool up near his chest. Felix can't tell if Claude has a pattern in mind, besides going on whim, on what makes Felix squirm. "You know... For most people, this would still be thought of as pretty adventurous," Felix says with a breathless laugh, even as his hip flinches from one more drop of ice cold water.

"You're handling it well, though," Claude says, and his hand goes to smooth over along Felix's hips, traversing the curves there. That's right before he ghosts another ice cube, the tip drawing a tingle out of Felix's thigh - the opposite one from last time.

Now that he's already experienced it once before, Felix manages a little better... Although not so much better that he doesn't make a soft noise of mingled pain and intrigue, and his thigh still tenses and quivers under the sensation as it leaves trails of cool water to drip further down. "Not... gonna let a little bit of ice beat me..."

"I don't know how to stress more severely that this isn't a competition, Felix," Claude tells him, part amused and part resigned. The drops stop a few moments after his words, and his hand smooths down along Felix's hip, wiping away the water left behind until he reaches dried wax.

Relaxing against the warm feel of Claude's hand, and how the wax is peeled away from him, Felix lets out a sigh. "I don't know how to stop," he admits. "It's hard to think with some of the things you're doing."

And so his mouth is left to run on its own, and when his mouth runs on its own, it, well. It says that sort of thing, he guesses.

"I thought maybe you'd be able to relax once you stopped thinking, that you'd stop worrying about fighting and your reputation, but it's really just belligerence all the way down, isn't it?" Claude doesn't sound too upset about it, however. He just chuckles, warm and endeared to him even now.

"If that were the case, I'd think I'd almost be happy," Felix scoffs, listening and feeling as Claude shifts against the bed. If he could be a little more stubborn, maybe he wouldn't let embarrassing things slip out. Or maybe if he could just relax, he wouldn't think about any of it, like he knows Claude does when they tie him up. Either way.

Speaking of Claude, and tying things... Claude's fingers brush against his cheeks, and reach around him to start tugging at the blindfold. "I think from this point on, I want you to be able to see what I'm doing."

Oh. Even though the blindfold is still mostly around his eyes, Felix can feel his own gaze flick to the side out of sheer habit.  It stays there, too, even when the light becomes all the brighter, and soon the blindfold is peeled away completely. He knows what he must look like: tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, a dampness smeared all across his cheeks where they couldn't fall, reddened eyes.

It's all so damn stupid, really. It's not like he was upset at what was happening to him - okay, so, he was pretty pissed and upset about the icy fingers to his balls, but that was one moment out of this whole experience. And yet his eyes still did this to him.

Embarrassing.

Claude reaches down, and his thumb brushes against his eye, his lashes. Carries the tears away. "Is the light too bright?"

Felix's nose scrunches up as the thumb goes for a pass over his other eye, just because it's so close. "I'll get used to it," he mumbles, not knowing how to show his appreciation to Claude in any other real way. "It's fine."

"Good." He lowers his hand to swipe it across the blankets, dry it off, before leaning down. It's a kiss, of course. But there's something about it that's... When him and Claude kiss, there's always an element of passion to it all. Desire. And maybe that's still here but - Felix moans softly into it, the gentleness with which Claude kisses him.

It's like the kisses Dimitri gives all of them when he's at his warmest, when he looks at them as though they've hung stars in the eyes and bestowed a single one just in his name. 

A kiss of utter adoration.

There's an urge in him to stiffen at the change in their regular interactions, but it doesn't last long. What overtakes it would be how Felix falls apart, going soft against the bed and against Claude. He can't help the moans he makes, even as much as he kind of wants to bite off his tongue at the fact that he made them at all.

Claude doesn't make fun of him for it, at least. He just has the kiss linger, and then trails it down for a series of lazy kisses along Felix's jaw. The feel of his beard brushing against his skin makes Felix squirm, but doesn't make Claude stop. "You never answered me before," he murmurs, lips moving sensually against Felix's skin as he speaks. "What got you excited, when I went to answer the door? Being tied up and left alone, wondering what I might be doing and when I might return to you? Or was it imagining someone else seeing you, spread out and flush and wanting?"

Oh, right. That. Felix turns his head, but this time it's not to hide his face against the pillows or his hair. It's just to curve his neck up, offer more flesh for Claude to peruse and tease. Maybe more of those kisses will make it easier to answer, as well, because the thought of doing so right now still requires Felix to give a hard swallow. "The latter," he finally makes himself admit, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. His cheeks are burning almost more than any wax that's fallen onto his body. "But - I didn't want them to see me. I'm not some exhibitionist. It's just..."

He trails off, struggling with the words. Claude doesn't rush him. He simply nudges his nose against Felix's ear, soft encouragement, and presses his lips down onto Felix's neck for a light suck.

It's fine, he tells himself. It's fine. Claude gets it. If anyone would, then he's sure it's Claude. Still, he trembles, and tilts his head away further at another kiss. "It's just... It was so close..."

"You like the thought of it," Claude clarifies for him, finding words when Felix can't, and his lips curve along his pulse. It might be hard to see at this angle, but Felix can still feel it. "You don't necessarily want it to happen, but the possibility gets you hot, right? I get like that too." He nips along Felix's throat, and his hips jerk up in response. "You know, I might just keep you like this until Sylvain and Dimitri get back... Then you can be seen after all, by people who are allowed to see you like this." His kisses trail down further, all the way to the hollow of Felix's throat. "I know they'll think you make as beautiful a picture as I do."

"Goddess, but every single one of you has turned into a voyeur from this relationship," Felix mutters, mouth twisting as though he can undo the vivid blush that's burning across his face. "And - you're wrong. It's not like that. It's just like... when I'm fighting..." He bites his lip, thinks of the exact scenario he's gone through numerous times in the past just because that's how combat is. "But you know... How you can get so close to being hit in a fight? But then you aren't, and the blade or arrow or anything else just goes right by you, enough for you to feel the heat of a spell or the air from a weapon passing... And that makes you feel so much better?"

"So it's the thrill of danger?" Claude pulls away a bit, and Felix can finally look down, only he looks right down into that typical grin of his. More than that, he finally takes in the state of his body: the flush that runs down the length of him from so much attention, the vivid red marks where wax touched him, and, barely visible with part of Claude's body in the way, his achingly erect cock. Somehow, it had passed him by, but it's already begun leaking precome... "That certainly sounds like you."

"Shut up," Felix breathes, and all Claude does is grin more before he lowers his head. His lips flutter across Felix's chest, layering quick little kisses that are still so dreadfully soft. Felix twists is hands where they're pulled, just for something to do that isn't squirming. That won't do for Claude, of course, no, not Claude von saints damn Reigan.

The worst part, when he slides his lips over Felix's nipple, is that he's still so gentle about it. He doesn't bite down, doesn't suck like he expects to draw anything out of him. It's soft, just enough of a force to let Felix know it's happening at all, and his teeth are hardly even a scrape. Is this better? Worse? Felix can't tell, only shake at every lazy circle of Claude's tongue. He already feels so damn on the edge, so full of heat... Does Claude really need to stroke this fire anymore?

Apparently he feels he needs to, a faint hum setting off the gentlest fireworks from the tip of Felix's nipple that roll languidly all the way into his cock. Felix gives into his squirming, arches his back up into Claude's hot breath. "Don't- mmm, don't keep me waiting, Claude..."

Claude smiles with his mouth still against Felix's skin, and doesn't answer him. All he does is leave that one nipple erect and standing, prying himself away with a trail of saliva - thick, glistening- connecting his lips to the hardened nub. A lick of his lips, and it snaps, such a tiny little impact still enough to make Felix twitch. While he recovers, Claude simply lowers his head again to give the exact same treatment to Felix's other nipple.

Motherfucker. It's never a good sign when Claude keeps his cards close to his chest like that. Felix tries to hold out in much the same way, no matter how Claude's tongue feels as it folds around his nipple, but it's no use. He squirms, goes red, feels his cock just fucking ache - and that's it. Felix breaks, removing his teeth from where he'd bitten down onto his tongue with a low keen. "Claude - dammit - please?"

Those soft lips fold against him, drag off so delicately when Claude lifts his head. "Just be patient," he murmurs, the gust of his words making Felix writhe some more. "I don't often get to enjoy all of your body like this, so I want to make the most of it while I can."

"That's because you prefer taking it," Felix mutters, although Claude hardly reacts to the words. Not right away. His nose nudges against Felix's sternum, and his lips begin to drift downwards... Along with his teeth, digging and nipping against the softer flesh of Felix's stomach. It's such a sharp contrast to his earlier teasing, pulling out another gasp from Felix that he's unable to block. All the attempt does is make Claude smile, and he drags his tongue against his latest mark. "Imagine the look on Sylvain and Dimitri's faces, when they see I've marked every inch of you..."

Fuck. He really has, too. Felix gets a hard reminder every time he dares to look down, head twisting and cheek pressing into his shoulder. There are splotches of red, too vivid to be anything else, littered all across his torso. Layered over it are the hickeys Claude has peppered, from his chest down to his stomach, to his pelvis, a trail giving away every bit of his lover's intentions.

And Dimitri and Sylvain are already possessive as it is. That they can't yet show it in public, haven't made all the arrangements for it - Felix thinks that's made them worse for it. For them to see him all marked up by teeth that isn't theirs, the looks that would be on their faces...

Felix tugs at his bonds, a moan rolling out of him as he thinks of the things those two would do to the both of them. "Claude... I'm going to die. You're going to saints damn kill me."

"You won't lose to a little ice, but this is what gets you?" Claude teases, pressing a kiss directly over Felix's navel.

That just earns him a glare, and a bit-back groan as Felix considers exactly how much lower Claude could go. "Didn't you say this wasn't a competition?"

Claude winks, the asshole, and blows into his navel for a jerk he no doubt finds satisfactory. "You know... I do prefer taking it, since you mentioned that before. After all this... I promise I'll let you fuck me. All you have to do is hold out until I'm finished. Deal?"

This is what he gets for letting a schemer with a tendency to tease take control. Felix keeps his eyes narrowed down at Claude. A part of him wants to hold out, be stubborn like he was throughout some of the earlier teasing... But after all that temperature play, how sensitive his entire body feels, the desperate pounding ache of pleasure between his legs - he can't hold out. Swallowing hard, he forces out one word: "Deal."

"Good." And then, because he's an ass, Claude flicks his tongue into Felix's belly button. A shudder rolls throughout Felix's body, and the noise that falls out of his mouth can't decide if it's a groan or a growl. Felix would like to think it's an attempt at a swear.

When he actually does swear down at Claude, he gets a laugh for his troubles, and then Claude goes to venture down once again. He can't keep his hands off of Felix, can't keep his lips. Both find plenty of territory to tread as they brush against the sharp angle of his hips, the dip of his pelvis. And then, right as Felix's cock is straining for any attention... Claude ignores it completely.

Because of course he does.

No, what Claude does is press the most delicate little kisses on the inside of his spread thighs, following them up with tiny bites that make something brilliantly painful and wanting curl in Felix's gut. Felix swears at him again, because it's really all he can do. "Dammit - damned tease," he hisses, ankles tugging fruitlessly against their bonds.

"Soon," Claude promises, laughing, and each gust of air rolls up against the underside of his arousal - which isn't exactly helping. "But there's too much sensitive skin here for me to just ignore it..."

"And whose fault is that?"

No answer. Claude, after all, has too much sensitive skin to not ignore. That takes the form of him lavishing that same insistent but gentle attention on a few select spots along Felix's legs, the kind of thing that's guaranteed to leave marks that will stay red a good couple of hours. He doesn't mark Felix the way Dimitri marks any of them - probably no one in the entire continent could - but they're guaranteed to stay regardless. It doesn't matter how much Felix's thighs quake with every second of teasing attention.

And he goes further down, too. His spine arches, ass rising in the air to wag tauntingly for Felix in a way he knows he can't have just yet, all so that Claude can put his head near the blankets. Near Felix's knee. Along the inside of it, with a sharp nip that has his foot jerk.

Felix feels the curve of Claude's lips on his skin again, ever so satisfied and far too soft. He turns his head, those soft curls of his just as much of a tease where they brush as anything else Claude has done on purpose. A repeat bite, in the same place, to the same response. Even so, Felix forces himself to be patient and ignore the way the trickle of his own precome is teasing at the feeling he only wants more of.

Horny hope bubbles in the core of him when Claude finally straightens up, lips dragging against the side of his knee. Now. This has to be it. He's been waiting for so damn long. So now, right?

Of course not now. Claude crawls up the bed, still agonizingly fully clothed, and reaches for one of Felix's hands. Any hopes he could have of Claude undoing his restraints are knocked away when his fingers are lightly pressed back, out of the way. Twisting his head back, Felix watches with impatient and hungry eyes as Claude presses an open mouthed kiss to his palm. "Finished?" he asks, unable to sound anything less than completely desperate.

There's no resistance from his hand, his fingers. Felix keeps them obediently still, and Claude takes full advantage of this. "Soon," he promises again, peppering a kiss to Felix's thumb, his pointer finger, middle, ring, pinky. "You've got two hands."

"And you have to kiss every finger?" Felix asks incredulously, even if every kiss sets off a flutter in his stomach.

Claude laughs softly against one hand before he leans over Felix's head, some sort of stupid bead hanging from a string tickling at Felix's ear. "Will you ever let me do this again?" he asks, before he starts on Felix's other hand just as soft and loving as he was with the other.

As much as it drives him up the wall for this to still be taking so damn long to get to the point... Felix's fingers twitch, but he forces them to stay still. Pliant. Willing. "How man times do you honestly think we can steal Dimitri's bed for this...?"

Pulling away just enough so that he can make eye contact, Claude winks. "If we let him watch? As often as we ask him."

Alright, he has to admit - for all that he's flushed, despite his hard cock, that still draws a smirk onto Felix's face. "Ha. You know he's running a country, don't you?"

"Responsibilities ought to be balanced out with perks at least a little." Leaning in, Claude plants the last delicate kiss upon Felix's pinky. A part of him still thinks this is going to lead to another game, another tease, another too soft touch that has him writhing in place. But Claude holds true, leaning back as he runs his palm down Felix's pelvis. Those clever fingers of his slide around his cock to his balls, and Felix inhales quick enough to choke from such sensitive flesh being fondled. Claude just watches him patiently; Felix had forgottten how bright his eyes are when he's been blind for so long. "Are you ready?" he asks, like Felix hasn't been begging him for ages now.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut, groaning as the callouses of Claude's hand take up all of his senses for one brief moment. "Have I not been obvious enough?"

"Are you going to be able to hold out?" is the next question, and Felix opens his eyes to find Claude looking up at him with a thoughtful twist of his lips. "I don't want you to come until you're all the way inside of me. If you don't think you've got the willpower for that. I've got something that can help you hold off until the right moment."

He's being played. He has to be. Claude has to know how much of a challenge that comes off as. It's so obvious that's what he's doing. And yet, Felix is furious to learn, he can still feel himself rising to the bait. He can feel his stubborn streak sparking, and his competitive nature is already in full blaze. For a second, all he can do is lay there, staring at Claude, his emotion a volatile cocktail of stupid emotional bullshit that he's going to fall for.

He can't believe it, honestly, except he can.

"You absolute bastard," Felix says slowly, because it's almost the only thing he can really think to say in retaliation. "So what new kink have you been holding onto for this occasion then?"

Claude grins at him. "There's a ring you can put around a cock that can be made just tight enough that you can't come," he explains, which sounds like hell already. "Not until you take it off again, at least. Believe it or not, Sylvain's the one who introduced it to me - he'd wear it with girls when they insisted he not wear a condom. So if you need help holding back-"

"Is this an elaborate plot to kill me, Claude?" Felix asks bluntly. "You get points for creativity, although you could have just used a sword like any sensible person. How the hell do you take something like that off?"

"It has some magic in it that lets it stretch a little," Claude says, and doesn't stop grinning at him. "Are you telling me you need it?"

On one hand, it's probably going to be a challenge enough with how worked up he's become, avoiding the bliss of release. He really might die here, and Felix never thought this would be how he went.

On the other hand, he suspects Claude would take no greater pleasure than seeing Felix fall apart while he rode his dick, the same dick not allowed to come, and Felix has always been more contrary than he's had any sense. He wants to prove the bastard wrong.

He suspects Claude is not particularly surprised when he sucks in a breath right between his teeth and says, "Don't bother getting it out. What do you plan on doing next?"

"I was thinking of putting my mouth on you again," Claude says, sweeping the curls away from his face as he lowers his head down to Felix's cock once more. His mouth is so damn close to the head of him, breath tickling at his sopping wet head. Claude peers up at him through his dark lashes. "That's what you've been waiting for, right?"

Every breath Claude makes, every word he speaks, sends more gusts of hot air against his sensitive tip. With each one comes a surge of renewed arousal, and he was already on the edge as it was. Felix shudders, fists shaking in their place. "I've been waiting for a lot of things," he grits out. "I can last."

This is almost certainly not true, but Felix has always been all about pushing himself. Maybe it will be a mistake... He just won't know until he tries.

"Good," Claude purrs, lips never having looked more fuckable than when they're such a short distance away from his cock like this. "If you feel yourself getting too close, though, let me know." And then finally, finally, he drags the flat of his tongue along the head of Felix's cock.

Ever since Claude first sucked him into his mouth, into that overwhelming heat, Felix has been hungering for it. The soft curve of his tongue is the perfect sampler for that, wide enough to drag every bit of that familiar wetness along the aching tip of him. Felix tenses, feels something molten in his stomach, and refuses to look away. It doesn't matter if he's panting, if he wants to buck up and can't. He watches. "Been waiting for this yourself...?"

"Mhm." Claude looks as satisfied as a cat, brushing his lips along Felix's cock. "I know the attention's been all on you, but believe me, seeing you all worked up has definitely been having an effect on me, too." That's all he says before he adjusts his head, lips wrapping around Felix as he descends down onto him just a little bit. It's not too much, not enough to overwhelm him... And yet even just a taste is enough to have Felix roll his head away with a moan.

"No one would ever be able to tell with you," Felix rasps, stomach clenching as Claude's tongue drags around his foreskin, slowly works it down. He relishes the feeling, how Claude teases him with what he's been wanting all this time. "Always so smug.. In control... No wonder Dimitri likes breaking you brain in two..." Claude sucks down on him and Felix's abs come into stark definition as he clenches down, forces himself not to roll up into Claude's throat.

That's fine. Claude takes it upon himself to write an invitation and accept it, sinking down ever so slowly onto Felix's cock. The drag of his tongue is light as a feather, suction almost unnoticeable especially when compared to the overwhelming heat of him. Felix's body shakes as though it were all something so much more intense, jaw falling open slack as he fights against his own inclinations.

Fortunately, he has help. As Claude swallows him up whole, cock breaching his throat, he presses his palm down against his pelvis, fingers smoothing around around the base of his cock to ensure he stays against the bed. Claude walks him to the edge like this: gently controlling his body when Felix forgets himself, tongue never too fast as he lavishes attention on him, suction never too hard. Felix appreciates it, even if it's hard to say so even when his toes aren't curled in on themselves and his teeth aren't grinding into one another.

He likes to think he has some pretty good self control most of the time, and that he's displaying it now... But sometimes it's so sweetly too much, and he forgets himself. Whenever he comes back, Claude still has him right there against the sheets and his saliva slick around his cock.

Felix would love to enjoy those slow motions, the gentle way Claude drags him higher and higher, except he's kind of losing his fucking mind the longer he stays in place. The longer it goes on, the more his brain has to drag itself away from the warmth, the pleasure, the plush of Claude's lips. Because if he focuses too much on that? If he lets himself get caught up in it? Felix knows that he's going to come. It's not just going to be a little moan, or jerk of his hips.

He has to repeat it, over and over again. A mantra, held behind grit teeth and bouncing around in his head.

Don't come. Don't come. Don't come. Don't, don't, don't, do fucking not-

A whimper forces it way out of his unwilling mouth, and then Claude pulls his mouth off of his cock.

If anyone else were to hear the whine that falls from him, Felix thinks he would tear out of his restraints and kill them and Claude right there. As it is, he just shakes where he's held, and glares over at Claude. There's a sting behind his eyes that he stalwartly refuses to acknowledge. "Fuck. Fuck. You, especially..."

"Soon," Claude promises for the millionth time, crawling backwards off of the bed with a grin. He slides off at the very end, straightening up with not a single hint of worry or hurry. All he does is reach up for the robe-like coat he often wears - both for the morning and overall, Felix has observed. It's the first thing to go, sliding off of his shoulders to crumple to the ground.

"You keep saying that," Felix complains. Despite his words, he manages to keep still. Calm. It feels as though they're finally getting somewhere, and his eyes watch hungrily as Claude undoes his belt so that it can be a little more gently placed to the ground as well.

Unhurriedly, Claude shucks off the rest of his clothes one by one, and there are a lot of clothes to remove. The unfortunate reality of someone born of the desert staying in a place known for its frigid winters. The top layer of his shirt, another beneath that, a third layer that practically acts as a set of his underthings, and then his pants...

Eventually, finally, he's laid completely bare there right by Felix's feet, and a hunger rolls through Felix as he takes in his entire body. Judging by the way his own cock is nice and hard between his legs... He really wasn't lying about how this whole thing has been affecting him as well. Claude looks all the more beautiful for it with those muscular rider's legs of his, and the fine curve of his body as he looks over to Felix with a teasing little smile. It's infuriating in its own way, sure, but Felix doesn't care about that right now. Much more important is watching Claude walk away from him, and over to a small bedside table.

All of them have their own 'resources' in their rooms, and often on their person, just in case things... happen. Yet the biggest supply is absolutely supply is absolutely in Dimitri's room, the place where they all try to return to when the sun sets and they're in the same place. It's that supply which Claude casually dips into, drawing out a small vial of oil. 

It fits perfectly in his hand, just like Claude fits perfectly as he crawls up onto the bed and onto Felix's lap... Except something isn't quite right. Felix doesn't realize what's going to happen, not immediately, just watches as Claude crawls up onto his waist - way too high for riding, what is he doing - and uncaps the vial.

That's around the time it hits Felix.

"Oh," he breathes, lip curling and his brow drawing tight together. "You fucker."

"What?" Claude says, like he's so damn innocent. "You can hardly prep me like this. And I could stretch myself out of sight, I suppose, but wouldn't that almost be crueler? Just making you wait and ache for me, knowing what I'm doing, but not even getting the decency of a show?" Fingers glistening in the sunlight, Claude moves his hand around behind him. Up front, as his hips shift, his erect cock bobs. "If you'd prefer not to watch..."

Incredible. Just - goddess damned incredible. "Get your ass near one of my hands and we'll find out if I can prep you or not," Felix challenges. It wouldn't be the most impossible thing they've done in the bedroom. Taking Dimitri's monster cock at all probably counts there. "And has it occurred to you that a show isn't necessary?"

"Like I said - if you don't want one, you don't have to have one," Claude tells him, right before his breath hitches. His body shifts, squirms, where he's straddling Felix, and fuck. Fuck. It's so stupid how such a little sound makes his hips twitch long before his brain has consciously recognized what it means.

Felix needs a moment before his brain restarts, watching as Claude's arm shifts behind him just a little. "You could just do it normally," he breathes out, swallowing thickly. Like that will give him more air, or better words. "If I let you go do it in some corner out of sight, I know for a fact that you'd just make your moans all the louder so that you could tug at my chain."

"What do you mean normally?" Claude's eyes sparkle as he looks down at him. Yet even as they sparkle, they're darker, pupils dilated a little more from pure lust. "This is as normal as any other way I've been prepped."

Saints. Something about being stared at with such dark eyes, blown out with desire, makes Felix want to tear out of his bonds. He wants to grab Claude, push him down, bite all along his collar bone to make some sort of claim while forcing Claude to moan with the exact same need that Felix has felt this entire time. He strains at his silk bindings all the harder, now, and arches upwards until Claude has to rise up on his knees so that he isn't bumped into in turn.

"Damn liar," he hisses, because of course this doesn't do him any good, obviously it wouldn't. "You tease, even with this."

"That's definitely normal for me," Claude murmurs, and his body shifts - that's another finger, joining the first.

It's ridiculous, how so little feels like fingernails scrapping across- wherever the hell his libido is stored. Giving up his fight against silk, of all things, Felix falls back against the bed. "You're an outlier," he says, because it's true. Nothing about Claude von Riegan, King Khalid, should ever be counted as normal. He might mean that in a good way. "You know what you need?"

Claude's eyes are vivid, brilliant, as he stares down at him. "Your cock inside me?" he asks, dragging his tongue along his lips.

"You need to be shoved down, face first, until you have a mouthful of royal sheets," Felix hisses. "And then my cock inside of you, all to shut your nonsense up."

"I think this is going to go down a little differently then that." Claude laughs, breathlessly. There's a hitch in his breath, no doubt a brush of his fingers somewhere extra sensitive.

Goddess, he wants to fuck him so bad. "Let me out of these restraints, and it won't have to." Felix growls, frustrated, wanting to do anything besides squirm underneath Claude while his wrists go sore from all his tugging.

"So impatient..." Claude flashes him a wink, even as he lets the now empty bottle drop from his fingers and onto the bed. Felix would be impressed that they've used it all up already; it probably says something about their sex lives or the boar's ravenous appetite. Yet he's more interested in what Claude's fingers are saying as they slide down his stomach, his pelvis, wrap around his own hard cock. He rocks his hips, back into his fingers, then towards the slick grip of his hand. Anything Felix could say about his idea of patience dies in his throat.

This is probably how he's going to die, he thinks.

Mercy looks as though it finally comes through the simple fact that Claude doesn't do this for long. At long lost, he slides those slick fingers out of himself, and shuffles back until he's at a position a little more suitable for riding Felix's cock. He really was messy, with how he applied the oil. There's still plenty left on his hands, enough for him to reach back and slide it all along Felix's length.

This entire time, his arousal has been aching red hot for any attention whatsoever. That's been the name of the game, honestly - how long his length can go when worked up to absurd levels. But that oil is just a little cooler than everything else... Felix buries his face to the side again with a moan.His body throbs in Claude's grip, desperate for any sort of relief only to get that slick sensation readying him for the inevitable. Readying him for what he's been wanting for what feels like an eternity.

Soon, he's slick. Soon, Claude rocks on his knees. Soon, those fingers are at the base of his cock, and his tip grinds up against Claude's entrance...

Claude pulls away. Felix stares, unable to comprehend or understand. He's so close, he can feel it. Claude's heat, the knowledge of where his fingers are, could go - it's all there. So what's going on? What's the issue? Felix feels almost delirious as he sits there, staring at Claude with a blank look on his face.

It hits him eventually. And when it does, Felix bares his teeth in complete desperately horny rage. "Claude, I'm going to choke you with your own bowstring-!"

This, for some mysterious reason, doesn't get him what he wants. He thinks it does, for a split second, when Claude slides his ass back down to grind the tip of Felix's cock right up against that loose hole of his, but then it's gone again. Touch and go, heat and cold, Claude so close to giving him what he wants and then not god damn doing it-

Felix yells, and curses, and swears, all to no avail, and - well. He's only human. So close, so horrifically damn close, and he finally breaks. The curses abate, and Felix writhes under Claude with tears stinging at the corner of his eyes as he looks up at him. "Claude," he keens, walls breaking down as the sound sweeps out from his throat. "Saints, Claude - please. Give it to me already!"

Not for one moment has Claude tore his gaze away from him this entire time, dark and lustful as it is. Even when his thighs tense from the effort of rising and grinding down against Felix's cock. Even as he takes such care when he slides down, Felix's hard length perfectly pressed up right the middle of his ass until he's practically swallowed up by the soft friction on either side of him.

It hits him that Claude could probably keep this going for hours on end.

Felix begs all the louder.





Of course the first thing Dimitri does when they get to the door is hesitate, brow furrowed, before he reaches out to knock. "Excuse us-"

Sylvain loves Dimitri. Of course he does. He's sweet, and generous, has been there for so much of Sylvain's life even when they couldn't quite understand each other, and his schlong is just, fucking huge. It's enormous. There's as much of Dimitri to love as there is of his dick.

But for the love of the damn Saints- Sylvain makes a sound of half frustration and half longing. "Your Majesty, it's your own bedroom," he says, reaching past Dimitri to shove the door open because, dammit, he can't wait anymore. He needs to see what's inside, what their two lovers have been doing ever since this morning.

Of course, the second he takes even one step into the room - the second he takes in the sight in front of him - his body locks up. His eyes widen, his mouth falls slightly open, and he has a feeling that he suspects only comes to people during a moment of divine revelation.

What he's looking at is breathtaking.

It's a good thing that Dimitri's body stumbles into his, forces him further inside so that his king and lover can shut the door behind them. There on the royal bed, Felix is spread out, tied up, silk wrapped around his wrists and ankles that holds fast even as his body tries to rise along with his voice. That pale skin of his is flushed so red that he stands out so vividly against the deep blue of Dimitri's bed. the room is massive, so all the fine and beautiful details aren't clear to him yet... But even at a distance, the way his hair sprawls around his head, so deep a blue that he could drown it it... Sylvain feels his heart lurch, and maybe something a little further south.

But the real star of the show in this exact moment would be Claude, who looks up at the sound of them entering with pupils almost fully blown out from desire. His body makes a stunning figure from where he's seated on top of Felix, one arm behind him and holding tight around the base of Felix's weeping cock. The gesture is familiar, vaguely, but he hardly can pay that any mind.

Not when Claude, his eyes on Sylvain and Dimitri both, finally rises up onto his knees and sinks his flushed, sweaty body down onto Felix's length.

Felix has been yelling this entire time, voice hoarse from the things he's been trying to demand and beg from Claude for how long. It's sounded like it's a million miles a way, before, because Sylvain's brain locked away everything else... but when Claude finally pierces himself down onto him, the sudden sharp silence is deafening. Sylvain forces his gaze away from Claude, whose own head is rolled back in ecstasy, and lands on Felix.

Felix, body as taut as a bowstring. Felix, eyes pried as wide as Sylvain's must be. Felix, his mouth dropped open and voice completely robbed from him.

His whimper rolls out of him, rises higher - a moan, a cry, something that rattles through the room. Dimitri was right, to shove him in, or else Felix's words would be heard throughout the whole damn castle. "Fuck, oh fuck, goddess, please please please, Claude, hate you, please, more-"

And Claude is more than happy to give it. His eyes slide away from the two of them, all of him lost in pleasure as he sinks completely down onto Felix's cock until Felix is crying for him all the louder. "More," he begs, head tossing side to side recklessly. "Too slow, Claude, fuck, please, faster, what do you want me to say-"

Well. Sylvain doesn't know what to say himself, completely transfixed as he takes a few steps further into the room. He doesn't think Felix has even registered him and Dimitri are there. "We finished our work just in time, huh?" he murmurs, hypnotized.

"They're beautiful," Dimitri agrees softly, right behind him - he's not the only one helplessly drawn to the sight, moths to flame. "Do you think..." He doesn't finish his words. Sylvain doesn't know what he was about to say, and can't really be bothered to inquire more about it. The closer they get, the more that he realizes Felix's body isn't just red from exertion, from sweat and a red flush claiming so much pale territory.

No, some of it are a different kind of red. They're the red of something else, strange fluid patterns that stay in place no matter how much Felix writhes or bucks. They match a mark Sylvain is far more familiar with, pretty little circular bruises that he can glimpse just beneath Claude's body, or see trailing up along Felix's torso.

Sylvain licks his lips, not sure if he feels more hungry or adoration churning in his chest.

There's not much time to admire the view. Claude's rocks down onto Felix's cock started out slow, adjusting, but Sylvain is pretty sure the other man has been tormenting himself just as much as he's been tormenting Felix. Body contorted, hand steadfastly keeping its particular grip the base of Felix's length, Claude begins to move faster, harder, brow pinched and thighs shaking.

"Fuck me, Felix," Claude breathes out, right before he swallows their lover right up again.

So transfixed on the image his two lovers make together, Sylvain almost startles himself when his knee bumps into the mattress. He roles with it well enough; this is where he wanted to be in the first place, after all. Besides him, Dimitri is doing very much the same at the foot of the bed as he crawls onto the sheets in order to take a comfortable place behind Claude.

Sylvain can't take his eyes off of either of them... although he'd be a liar if he said his heated gaze doesn't keep straying to Felix most of all. A debauched Claude is delicious; an absolutely wrecked Felix is a bit rarer and thus a bit more precious. Once he's settled on the bed, creaking and bouncing as Claude's riding gets all the more intense, Sylvain dares to reach over. He has to be careful as he does so, considering Felix's writhing. Still, he manages well enough, and swipes away some of the tears that have been gathering and spilling down Felix's cheeks.

It may as well be an electric shock to Felix. His eyes fly open, hip bucking up all the harder into a gasping Claude. "Syl-!" he rasps, those teary eyes falling to him. "Fuck-"

A part of him wants to touch Felix more, make him cry out his name, too - but Sylvain doesn't do that. Couldn't do that, not to Claude, who's so lost in this moment that's really just for the two of them. It would be rude, or something like that. Dimitri seems to have no such qualms, pressing up against Claude's back and earning a startled moan for his efforts. "Claude," he whispers into his fellow king's ear, the hot breath of it making Claude rock all the faster on Felix's cock. One of Dimitri's hands rises up, rests just so on his hips. "You can do a little harder than that."

Even from where he's sitting, Sylvain can hear the implications in those words, how it connects to his hand on Claude's hip. Lost in the euphoria, in the fire that Felix's cock is stroking through him, Claude seems to react to it even more. He arches his back, presses further against Dimtiri with a gasp that might be the mental image he's entertaining or the way his body rocks all the harder downwards. At long last, his hand finally pulls away from Felix's arousal, and goes to grip Dimitri's forearm.

It's hard to remember to swallow, watching something like this, the way Claude's hard cock wags through the air, and his mouth is bone dry when Sylvain finally makes the attempt. "Touch him, Dimitri," he suggests hoarsely, even as he's turning his attention back down to Felix.

If there's anything he wants to do, it's to kiss Felix's lips, swallow the noises he's making. Yet he's pretty sure Felix needs to see Claude right now - in general, and for the release that's quickly coming. He knows he'd go nuts, if he lost So instead he leans down and drops a harried kiss to his love's temple. "You're doing so good, Felix," he murmurs into his ear. He's not really thinking about the words he's saying; they're fueled purely by his desire for both of the men in front of him. "You're so close, he's ready, finish him off-"

And that's when Claude finally takes Felix in how he hasn't been able to before.

That's when Dimitri reaches around with his other hand to jerk it along Claude's cock.

That's when Felix rolls his hips up as high as he possibly can, and comes into Claude at the same time that Claude himself splatters his own release all across his reddened stomach.

What a sight the two of them make: Felix with his almost borderline painful release, helped along by Sylvain gently stroking his hair through it all, and then Claude crying out a broken gasp of Felix's name, held firmly in place as release floods through his system thanks to Dimitri's firm hand. Both of them, Sylvain and Dimitri, stay where they are even as their lovers ride through their release, all up until they slump back - Felix to the bed, Claude against Dimitri's chest.

They look beautiful this way, they really do. Sylvain reflects on that, even as he gently strokes Felix's hair. As Felix lays there, limp, he finally dares to lean forward in order to press a small kiss against his forehead. He murmurs soothing words to their precious lover, so rarely vulnerable like this. Sylvain barely even knows what he's saying, honestly. He just speaks, and watches. It's a good thing he's watching, too, because after a few moments of just laying there, Felix shudders from every touch of Sylvain's hand.

Sylvain knows Felix better than anyone in the world. He'd bet money, blood, anything on that simple fact. He knows Felix better than even Claude. That shiver means something, and it means he should pull his hand away, just for now, and so he does. With nothing much to do except wait for Felix to recuperate, he glances over to check how Claude is doing in Dimitri's own arms.

Not that it's lasting long, honestly. True to being an archer, Claude is already pulling away from where Dimitri was kissing his ear and murmuring praises, and his eyes are directly on from where Felix was shuddering at Sylvain's touch. Gently, he shakes Dimitri off of him, and then slowly rises up off of Felix's now fully limp cock. Something about the sensation has him shiver, but Claude doesn't let it distract him. All he does is clamber off of Felix, and start work undoing the silk rope around his ankles.

Poor guy is in such a state... Sylvain glances over at where the rope holds Felix in place. Claude must still be watching him, however, because his voice speaks up from the foot of the bed. "Let me," he says, hoarse but determined.

Well. If he insists. It's probably good for Felix, honestly, since Claude is the one who's been here from the start. Sylvain backs up, just to give him room for when he eventually crawls up to Felix's arms. It takes less time than he would have thought; Claude must have used a particular kind of knot to free Felix's ankles so quickly. Soon enough, he's kneeling by Felix's head, undoing the silk around one wrist, and then the other.

To no one's surprise, Felix's wrists have red marks that go all around the width of them. The good news is that they don't seem to be any worse than the various splotches of red scattered across his torso. Claude's expertise in knot tying comes in again, Sylvain supposes. Claude gently rubs at the markings anyway, bringing back any bloodflow that couldn't go through before and just easing some of the ache that's no doubt present. "You were amazing," he murmurs as he gently draws one of Felix's arms down, and then he presses a kiss to Felix's mouth. Even that earns a small jerk, and some shuddering. Claude still reaches up, pulls the other arm down for the same gentle massage along the connected wrist. "You were perfect, Felix. Thank you so much."

It's hard to say if the words are really getting through to Felix. Certainly he tries to react, blinking up at Claude. "You..." Still, the words don't come, and Felix succumbs to yet another kiss.

Dimitri is about as stuck in place as Sylvain is, watching their two lovers with the utmost adoration. Sylvain honestly can't blame him. What was once unbearably sexy has now turned into something breathtakingly intimate, and honestly he loves it as much as what came before. Still, it wouldn't be Dimitri if he wasn't trying to help. "So cute," he murmurs to himself, before shaking his head so that he can snap out of it and speak properly. "Claude, do you want me to start the bath for you two?"

It's a little bit early in the day for a bath, honestly, but, well... A person only need look at the sweat slick across Claude's entire body, and the red marks all along Felix's, to understand why Dimitri might suggest it.

Still, Claude shakes his head. "Not just yet," he tells Dimitri, before all of his attention rightfully returns to Felix. Gently, he starts doing what Sylvain had been, and his thumb swipes away some leftover tears. "It's okay," he murmurs. "We're done. You were beautiful."

"Done..." Unsteady, clearly a little out of it, Felix shoves his face into Claude's hand. The overstimulation must be fading, although perhaps not quickly; Felix shivers again after a second. "Liar... Teasing me..." He still nuzzles Claude's hand.

"No more teasing, I promise," Claude says, and presses their foreheads together. "We're all done now. You did everything I wanted. Did I make you feel as good as I told you I would?"

Wearily, succumbing to such soft touches, Felix sighs. "Too good..."

Sylvain can't help himself; he supposes he only barely has more self restraint than Dimitri does. "Can we hold you guys?" he asks, watching with gentle adoration as Felix's expression relaxes.

For the first time, his voice seems to properly reach Felix. He doesn't open his eyes, but shifts his head a little more in his direction. "Syl...?" he mumbles, and Claude flashes Sylvain a smile. He doesn't feel the need to give his own answer, not when Felix has found at least one word again.

"I'm here, Felix," Sylvain says soothingly, feeling allowed now to reach over and stroke Felix's hair once again. "So's Dimitri. You were so gorgeous, babe. You and Claude both."

Well, Dimitri might be here, but he takes care almost to not be. Delicately moving around Felix's sprawled out and limp legs, he settles somewhere in the vicinity besides him, and doesn't touch him just yet. Probably a good idea, honestly. Instead, he lays his hand upon Claude's back. "You were lovely, Felix," he promises, running his hand up and down Claude's spine. "Amazing."

Claude flashes them both a grateful smile and a small chuckle, before he continues to stroke Felix's face with his thumb. "You handled it so well. I know it was intense. Would you like Sylvain or Dimitri to hold you?"

It's not an either-or option, the way Claude says it. It's more of a... do either of these options interest you? sort of question.

For a long moment, Felix doesn't answer. He merely keeps his eyes closed, no doubt lost to the soothing rhythm of Claude's thumb and Sylvain's own palm along his hair. Maybe he won't answer at all, Sylvain thinks, except that's around the time that Felix finally stirs once more. "Dima...?"

Both Sylvain and Claude look up, Claude with a smile on his face. "Dima, could you do the honors?" he asks, straightening up so that he's no longer in the way.

Looking absolutely starstruck - and it's hard to tell if it's at being chosen or having that old childhood nickname called again - Dimitri mutely nods. He reaches over, using all of the care that he is physically capable of to lift Felix up. It's like watching a giant bear-hunting dog try to pick up a kitten in his teeth. Still, Dimitri does it, not jostling Felix even a bit as he moves him over until the tired swordsman is resting against his chest. "Is that good, Felix...?"

As though he needs to ask. Felix wiggles a little, smooshing his cheek against Dimitri's shoulder, and makes a soft noise. Yeah, he's pretty good.

Helpless and no doubt dying in the sweetest way possible, Dimitri looks up at the two of them. It's the look of a person who has, for the very first time, been allowed to pet and cuddle an otherwise aloof cat. It makes Claude chuckle quietly, and he leans in to continue soothing Felix himself - stroking his hair, murmuring to him, and otherwise fussing in a way that Felix never really lets them when he's in a not-fucked-stupid state of mind.

Sylvain should probably be jealous that he wasn't picked; maybe a part of him is jealous. And yet it's hard to actually feel that jealousy in the face of all the overwhelming love and adoration he feels. He shifts over on the bed, moving behind Claude so that he can wrap his arms around the other man's waist. Being here, with his head along Claude's shoulder, watching Felix be pampered... He can think of few things so satisfying.

Apparently Felix has other ideas. With how much he's being pampered and adored, one would think it easy to fall asleep, and yet he makes another soft noise of protest. "Syl?"

Sylvain lifts his head almost immediately, and nearly misses the smile on Claude's lips. "What's up, Felix?"

There's not even the slightest attempt on Felix's end to open his eyes. The best he offers is turning his head a little where it lays against Dimitri's shoulder, to better be focused in Sylvain's direction. That's fine. The words he mumbles next are far more important. "Mmm... Want you."

Well. He can't deny that, now, can he? Sylvain relinquishes his hold on Claude, shifting around to the side so that he can loosely embrace all three of them. It's about as close as he can get like this, with Claude at Felix's front and Dimitri at his back. "How's this? Is this good?"

The disgruntled noise out of Felix's mouth says absolutely not, and he wiggles, trying to seek more of Sylvain's touch. This close, Sylvain has no problem seeing the way Dimitri bites down on his lip like that will stop his smile.

Sylvain laughs quietly, sharing a glance with Dimitri that's full of their mutual, wordless delight at Felix being so wrung out and cuddly. Claude has forged miracles this day. "How do you want me, Felix?" he asks. He'd genuinely love to hold Felix, after all, but he's pretty sure Felix wants to be held by all three of them at once, and Sylvain doesn't have many good ideas on how to arrange that, physically. He also doesn't really think Felix is conscious enough right now to problem-solve, but he's hoping that Felix knows exactly what he wants to happen already. That would sure make this simpler.

Considering the way Felix shifts and squirms in Dimitri's grip as he tries to work out the right position, he absolutely doesn't know. Felix seems to work out that he also has no idea, because he opens his eyes to mere slits a moment after as though reality and physics have personally affronted him. He doesn't say anything. He merely reaches out, pawing at Sylvain's arm.

Sylvain takes Felix's hand without hesitation, and draws it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss along his fingertips. In his grasp, Felix's hand trembles just a little bit, and the annoyance in his face melts away once more. Between them, Claude sinks down against Felix's chest with a content sigh. "Do you want a bath, Felix?" he asks.

"Dunno. Don't care." Felix sighs, and the noise melds into a sort of yawn. It's been quite the morning for him, after all. "Stay..."

Leaning down, Dimitri presses a kiss into his hair. "We will stay with you, Felix."

"Yeah," Sylvain agrees, his heart melting in his chest. "We're not leaving you, whether it's here or in the tub."

All Claude does is smile, his head pressed down right where he can no doubt listen to Felix's heartbeat. "Making you this happy was definitely worth it," he says softly.

If there is one thing that Sylvain is absolutely dying to know, it's just what Claude did to get Felix into this sort of soft, content, sleepy state. Yet he's sort of half afraid to ask in front of Felix. There's no telling what might stir him out of his relaxation, and bring out the prickly side of him once more. More than anything else, Sylvain wants to preserve this... for as long as possible.

Then again... As Felix gently pulls at his hand, Sylvain follows it, until they're all pressed gently together in a neat little pile. There's plenty of time in the world.

He's happy like this, and he thinks Claude and Felix are, too.