[ The night had passed in a dizzying whirl of heat and hunger. At some point, it had all started to blur together, but through it all he was constantly aware of the warm strength of Basch's hands holding him close. The possessive - and protective - way he cradled him close. The pleasure he built, again and again, until Sylvain was suffused with it, body utterly sated and spent.
It hadn't even mattered that they were somewhere relatively public. That there could be - and probably were - eyes on them, greedily drinking in their movements. He'd forgotten all about that, because his entire focus, his entire world had narrowed down to Basch. The heat of his body, the slide of his hands, the hunger of his kiss. The feel of him buried so deep within Sylvain that he ached for it when the man finally withdrew, dressed him again, and then half-carried him home when his legs barely kept him upright.
He doesn't recognize the room he's taken to, but he doesn't really care about that. Exhausted and spent, the night's pleasures catching up to him, he's half-asleep the moment Basch pours him into his bed. He only stirs a little when he feels Basch crawl in beside him, draws him close, though he's quick to wrap around him, face buried against his throat as he all but clings to the man in his sleep, their legs tangled together. The hands that slide along his skin, through his hair, quickly lull him back into deep, quiet slumber.
It's quite possibly the best rest he's gotten in years. So much so that he's reluctant to wake, comfortable and warm and content as he is. His sleepy mind is still lost in a pleasurable haze as he wriggles closer, soaking up the warmth of the arms around him.
Although parts of him are certainly very aware of what - and who - he's pressed up against and wrapped around. Basch won't have to guess how happy part of Sylvain is to be waking up wrapped around his lover, after all the pleasure from the night before. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-12-15 03:48 am (UTC)It hadn't even mattered that they were somewhere relatively public. That there could be - and probably were - eyes on them, greedily drinking in their movements. He'd forgotten all about that, because his entire focus, his entire world had narrowed down to Basch. The heat of his body, the slide of his hands, the hunger of his kiss. The feel of him buried so deep within Sylvain that he ached for it when the man finally withdrew, dressed him again, and then half-carried him home when his legs barely kept him upright.
He doesn't recognize the room he's taken to, but he doesn't really care about that. Exhausted and spent, the night's pleasures catching up to him, he's half-asleep the moment Basch pours him into his bed. He only stirs a little when he feels Basch crawl in beside him, draws him close, though he's quick to wrap around him, face buried against his throat as he all but clings to the man in his sleep, their legs tangled together. The hands that slide along his skin, through his hair, quickly lull him back into deep, quiet slumber.
It's quite possibly the best rest he's gotten in years. So much so that he's reluctant to wake, comfortable and warm and content as he is. His sleepy mind is still lost in a pleasurable haze as he wriggles closer, soaking up the warmth of the arms around him.
Although parts of him are certainly very aware of what - and who - he's pressed up against and wrapped around. Basch won't have to guess how happy part of Sylvain is to be waking up wrapped around his lover, after all the pleasure from the night before. ]