[ More like he's being direct since he's not the type to mince words or go through any long-winded courtships. Some prefer the thrill of the chase, but Byleth prefers simply taking what he can get when it's right before him, unwilling to chance the missed opportunity. Tomorrow they could return to their world, and what little selfishness he possesses dictates that he enjoy what could be one last dance between them or one of many. It's difficult to tell with the nature of this world and the fact that their hearts lead them in other directions regardless of whatever attraction stirs between them.
With that in mind, he follows Sylvain to the bed's edge, his form still flickering in and out, something he hopes to rectify as he pushes his former student down, hands carding through his hair and his body weight shifting over the bed as he slides a knee between Sylvain's legs. He's not solid enough to apply enough pressure like he wants, but he will worry about that after as he chases after Sylvain's mouth, pushes their lips together like it's all he needs to subsist. Given his current situation, that's not far from the truth.
He's not sure what he himself tastes like on the cusp of death, but Sylvain's mouth is always unbearably rich, something strong and fragrant in his breath that makes him slide his tongue into his mouth to taste more, a quiet groan loosened from the contact. His hands tighten around his hair, pulling slightly before he forces them to move down his neck, over his chest, across the smooth planes of his stomach so he can unfasten his shirt from his pants and push it up, feeling the heated flesh and firm muscle underneath.
When he breaks the kiss, he's already breathing faster than normal, eyes zeroed in on Sylvain's reaction, trying to follow the flush painted over him as though he could stubbornly memorize exactly how beautiful he looks when he's vulnerable. ]
Do you mind? I can slow down.
[ But need is driving him in more ways than one as he starts undoing each button on Sylvain's shirt, uncertain if Sylvain will continue to allow him the liberty. ]
no subject
With that in mind, he follows Sylvain to the bed's edge, his form still flickering in and out, something he hopes to rectify as he pushes his former student down, hands carding through his hair and his body weight shifting over the bed as he slides a knee between Sylvain's legs. He's not solid enough to apply enough pressure like he wants, but he will worry about that after as he chases after Sylvain's mouth, pushes their lips together like it's all he needs to subsist. Given his current situation, that's not far from the truth.
He's not sure what he himself tastes like on the cusp of death, but Sylvain's mouth is always unbearably rich, something strong and fragrant in his breath that makes him slide his tongue into his mouth to taste more, a quiet groan loosened from the contact. His hands tighten around his hair, pulling slightly before he forces them to move down his neck, over his chest, across the smooth planes of his stomach so he can unfasten his shirt from his pants and push it up, feeling the heated flesh and firm muscle underneath.
When he breaks the kiss, he's already breathing faster than normal, eyes zeroed in on Sylvain's reaction, trying to follow the flush painted over him as though he could stubbornly memorize exactly how beautiful he looks when he's vulnerable. ]
Do you mind? I can slow down.
[ But need is driving him in more ways than one as he starts undoing each button on Sylvain's shirt, uncertain if Sylvain will continue to allow him the liberty. ]