Work Text:
Flayn really shouldn't be lurking outside Sylvain's room so late at night. Even though there's a war going on, she's still certain her father would kill Sylvain despite his status as general if he found her here. That information makes a thrill shoot through her, a feeling she gets every time she sneaks around to hang out with Sylvain. At first it had been friendly, Sylvain turned out to be oddly kind to her despite all the rumors and never pursued her. Hiding in the stables to chat with him while he tended to his warhorse Minx had become a habit. What started as chatting to distract each other from the war had turned into stolen kisses with the scent of fresh hay thick in the air. She shakes her head to snap her out of her musings, because the longest she stands out in the hallway, the more likely she is to get caught.
She carefully raps her knuckles against Sylvain's door, grateful that Dimitri hasn't returned to his room for the night so she doesn't have to worry about disturbing him. She waits for him to call out to let her in, but instead the door swings open. She'd heard that he was sick, only after considering maiming him for standing her up for their stables date, but she wasn't expecting him to look so visibly under the weather.
"Hey there, little lamb," he rasps, leaning against his doorframe unsteadily. She ignores the way the nickname sets her whole body aflame, even though she's certain her cheeks betray her. She instead focuses on taking in the man in front of her. He has a smirk on his face that seems more pained than flirtatious. His hair isn't styled, but is matted to his forehead with sweat. He's wearing a damp, white undershirt and as her gaze drifts down she realizes that she can see his bare legs.
"You should be resting if you are so clearly unwell," she declares, using both of her hands to push him back into his room. She lets the door shut with a bang on its own as she forces him back into bed, under the covers where his legs won't distract her again.
"I was resting until someone knocked on my door late at night," he teases, breaking out into a coughing fit once he's finished speaking. She ignores him, and leans down to press the back of one of her hands against his forehead. It's burning hot under her touch, and she can't help the frown that settles onto her face.
"Have you taken any medicine? Your fever feels rather high," she asks, worry building in her stomach. While she's never had a fever or anything of the sort, she's seen many humans die from them during her time alive. Sylvain doesn't seem to be anywhere near death, but she wouldn't put it past him to ignore all medicine and let it progress to that stage.
"Your hand feels nice," he sighs, completely ignoring her question. She pulls it away just to flick his forehead with a pout. Sylvain stares up at her with a startled expression, but she refuses to apologize until he answers her question.
"Mercedes made me take some with dinner," he finally replies after the silence stretches on for several more moments. She feels relieved at this information, and decides that the least she can do for interrupting his much needed rest is tend to him til he falls asleep. She gets up off the bed, and walks over to his desk where a basin of water is set up with a rag draped over the side. She dips it in the water, and rings it out before returning to his side. She wipes down his face, pleased with the look of honest relief that settles onto his features at the cool contact. She does the silly gesture of pouring some healing magic through her hand even though it'll do nothing to help his illness.
"Sorry for standing you up," Sylvain says sleepily as she continues to wipe down his face, "I didn't mean to."
"I am glad to know that," she says in her most uppity tone, secretly pleased at the reassurance even if she let go of all ill will when she heard he was feeling under the weather. It's strange to see Sylvain so relaxed, especially in the company of others. There's no easy going smile on his face like usual, and she can suddenly understand how forced it is. He's handsome like this, and it sets her heart aflutter. She brings up her free hand to brush his bangs off of his forehead, and then she lets it continue to scratch at his scalp and run through his hair. Temptation overwhelms her as she leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. It's warm under her lips, but seems to have cooled down since she first pressed her palm against it. She lets the gesture linger, and almost jumps out of her skin when Sylvain brings a hand up to her cheek to carefully guide her away.
"I am sorry," she blurts out, turning beet red. Sylvain just shakes his head and looks at her with what she's certain is fondness.
"Trust me, you don't want to catch whatever I have. I know I make it look good, but it's really not all that fun."
"While I appreciate your concern, I simply must inform you that I have never, not once in my entire life, fallen ill with fever," she says, hoping that he doesn't pry into the reason why, which she's unable to give him. Sylvain doesn't seem to believe her if she reads his raised eyebrow correctly, and her mouth moves quicker than her brain does.
"I'll prove it to you!" she says, leaning down to kiss him fully on the mouth. She quickly comes to her senses, but he wraps an arm around her waist as she prepares to throw herself away from him. All of her is suddenly on fire as he kisses her with all of his usual passion. She finds herself lost in his embrace like always, and braces a hand on his chest as she lets him deepen the kiss. She ends up squirming just to relieve some of the pressure building up in her stomach. The angle isn't perfect, but the sensation is enough for her to ignore it until her neck starts to ache. She pulls away from him to readjust, but is struck dumb by how intense he looks. His eyes are dark with what she thinks is desire and she suddenly realizes that that's exactly what she is feeling too. She feels silly for not recognizing it sooner when it really was so obvious.
His hand starts to rub circles on her lower back where it rests, and she finds herself moving before she can overthink it once more. She kicks off her boots and moves fully onto the bed to straddle his hips. Before she can fully settle into his lap, both of his hands fly up to keep her suspended above him. He suddenly looks panicked, but before he can apologize, he speaks up.
"You did nothing wrong," he says quickly with something like shame on his face. "It's me. I'm uh…" he trails off so she tilts her head to the side in confusion. He seems reluctant to answer, and as she wracks her brain the answer comes to her.
"Oh!" she gasps, suddenly flushing even redder. She glances down, and even in the dim candlelight she can see the tent in the blankets right where she was about to sit. She feels like her whole body is burning. She's always been aware of the "man" label attached to Sylvain and what that entails, but she hasn't given it much thought since her first apology to him back when they were students.
She looks back up at Sylvain, and the miserable expression on his face snaps her out of her stupor.
"I too am aroused," she says plainly. That seems to shake Sylvain out of his internal self-loathing.
"You are?" he asks uncertainly.
"Is that truly so shocking to you? You are a very talented kisser are you not? Is it not a natural response?" she insists. Sylvain's grip briefly tightens on her waist, which does nothing to quell the wetness she's noticed between her thighs. He still seems unsure so she pushes even further.
"There is no problem if our attraction is mutual, correct? I am not uncomfortable in the slightest." The reassurance finally seems to get through to him much to her relief.
"Yeah, you're right," he says, sliding his hands from her hips to her thighs, "no problem then." The heat from before overwhelms her in full force. Just a simple gesture such as this is enough to get her blood boiling. She lets herself settle fully into his lap, and the proof of his attraction pressed against her core is intoxicating. Even more intoxicating is the way Sylvain's face twists in pleasure at the pressure. She simply cannot resist leaning down to kiss him even more. He lets go of her thighs to prop himself up to make the reach easier for her. She puts all of the passion and heat she's feeling into their kiss. Sylvain responds with equal desire which makes her head spin delightfully. She loves kissing him, and this intimate position only makes the experience better. She wants more. She decides to push her hips down experimentally, and is rewarded with the most attractive sound she's ever heard from Sylvain. The sparks that shoot up her own body at the motion are even better. She grinds her hips down again and quickly finds a rhythm that makes the pleasure build up in her core.
"That feels good, yeah?" Sylvain rasps in between kisses. She doesn't trust her voice to remain steady, so she nods her head and keeps moving. She keeps kissing him as she keeps grinding down onto him. Strangely, she finds herself frustrated. She feels like she keeps approaching a cliff, but is unable to reach the edge of it. Sylvain, even while sick, is more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for. He grabs her hips and stops her movements as he opens his mouth to speak.
"What's not right, Lamb?" he asks, and she can sense the nervousness in his voice.
"It's not enough," she forces herself to admit. He relaxes again and a teasing smirk makes its way onto his face.
"Is that your way of asking me to touch you more," he says with half-lidded eyes.
"Please," she gasps, far too worked up to be shy or uncertain any longer. Sylvain rewards her with a hand sliding up her skirt to toy with her damp underwear. Even just his fingers skating over the area, not even applying any real pressure, is enough to bring the flames in her core rising dangerously high once more. Sylvain's watching her face closely as he drags his hand up to the waistband, pausing just a moment before dragging them down. With the way her thighs are spread over him, he can't drag them down very far. This doesn't seem to be a problem to Sylvain at all though, and he wastes no time in sliding his fingers down her slit. He immediately finds the most sensitive part, and Flayn lets out an embarrassingly loud moan as he fingers press down on it. It's far more intense feeling than when she does it to herself, and it doesn't take long for him to find a rhythm that makes her feel like there's nothing in existence other than her own pleasure. It takes very little time for his touch to bring her to her most intense climax of her life. She's vaguely aware of the sounds that keep pouring past her lips, but nothing matters to her but the way Sylvain works her through her peak until she finally settles into the boneless warmth that comes afterwards.
She forces her gaze up to Sylvain's face. He looks just as blissed out as she's sure she does. As she comes back into awareness of her body outside of her cunt, she realizes that his other hand had at some point disappeared under her skirts as well to touch himself to climax while he did the same to her.
"Your talents were not undersold in the slightest," she says finally. That makes Sylvain move his hands to hold her thighs as he laughs.
"Glad to know I didn't disappoint," he says with a wink. Flayn starts giggling along with him as she lets herself tip forward to rest on his chest. She rests there for a while while their giggle fits subside. As much as she wishes she could stay by his side for the rest of the night, she knows her Father would tear the monastery apart to find her if she did so, and she has no desire to share this new constant in her life with him quite yet.
"I should retire for the night," she says, and she can feel Sylvain nod his head.
"Thanks for visiting, little lamb," Sylvain says softly as she gets off the bed. She nods her head, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. She's relieved to feel that his fever has gone down.
"I hope you recover soon," she says once she's off the bed and standing at his door. He gives her a sleepy look and two thumbs up. She quietly slips out of his room, careful to not let the door click behind her, and heads back to her own room. Perhaps if he's still not feeling better tomorrow, she can pay him another night time visit. The idea makes her whole body flush, and she falls asleep that night with thoughts of all the things they can do together next.