I never said you were. [Or meant to imply it. But Khalid doesn't seem actually offended, if the way he obeys the demand is any indication.]
Goddess knows you're gorgeous at the least.
[There's absolutely more to this prince than that, Sylvain can tell even in the short time they've spent together, but he can focus on praising the man for his mental capacity another time. Sylvain strokes his clean hand up the back of a thigh, over a cheek to rest against his lower back.]
I'm sure you don't need me to tell you to breathe deep and slow, then.
[He smirks, sliding his slick fingers in to press firmly against his ass, spreading the oil.]
[Khalid hums, low and pleased, at the compliment and Sylvain's hand smoothing over the back of his thigh up to the small of his back. His laugh is cut off by a hitch in his breath as Sylvain's fingers press against his entrance, slick and hot and very different from his own.]
No, not at all. [He mutters lowly, taking that deep breath and sinking further into the mattress. He can feel his pulse racing, but he keeps himself relaxed, thighs spreading just an inch more in his eagerness.]
Especially when you make sounds like that, [He follows up on his compliment. Smug as a cat over the way Khalid's breath catches, the way he melts against the mattress.]
What a wedding gift.
[It's partially to himself, and partially a little tease about the way Khalid is giving himself like this. To cover up how affectionate Sylvain feels about that, of course. Those spreading thighs get him in the heart and in the dick, and Sylvain takes a hold of one with a friendly squeeze. He holds that grip, stroking his thumb over the inner thigh as he puts real pressure on Khalid, slow and steady, until both fingers slip inside.]
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no subject
Goddess knows you're gorgeous at the least.
[There's absolutely more to this prince than that, Sylvain can tell even in the short time they've spent together, but he can focus on praising the man for his mental capacity another time. Sylvain strokes his clean hand up the back of a thigh, over a cheek to rest against his lower back.]
I'm sure you don't need me to tell you to breathe deep and slow, then.
[He smirks, sliding his slick fingers in to press firmly against his ass, spreading the oil.]
no subject
No, not at all. [He mutters lowly, taking that deep breath and sinking further into the mattress. He can feel his pulse racing, but he keeps himself relaxed, thighs spreading just an inch more in his eagerness.]
no subject
What a wedding gift.
[It's partially to himself, and partially a little tease about the way Khalid is giving himself like this. To cover up how affectionate Sylvain feels about that, of course. Those spreading thighs get him in the heart and in the dick, and Sylvain takes a hold of one with a friendly squeeze. He holds that grip, stroking his thumb over the inner thigh as he puts real pressure on Khalid, slow and steady, until both fingers slip inside.]