Series: Tales of Vesperia
Warnings: adult content
A/N: A PWP written based off the idea that Flynn enjoys watching Yuri...err...enjoying himself. XD
Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.
Yuri didn't pay much attention to the three-paneled folding screen that stood at the end of Flynn's bed as he stumbled backwards into the room. To be fair, he wasn't paying much attention to anything at all aside from the way Flynn moved in his arms, the way their legs tangled as they shuffled their way blindly to the bed, the way Flynn's tongue delved into his mouth as they kissed greedily. Champagne and candlelight on a warm spring night had gone to his head, or maybe it was just the way Flynn's hands had slipped into his shirt to run desperately over his skin that was making everything go a little fuzzy around the edges. He laughed, upsetting what rhythm they'd found in the sloppiness of their kisses, as Flynn reached around and grabbed his ass. Wrapping his arms tight around Flynn's neck, Yuri jumped, trusting Flynn to catch his weight even without any warning. He wrapped his legs around Flynn's waist and swallowed his laughter as he dissolved back into the kiss and let himself be carried to the bed.
They hit the mattress with a jolt and another burst of laughter from both of them. One quick heave, and Flynn had Yuri up on the bed. Flynn's hands remained trapped, and he flexed his fingers, groping, teasing, as Yuri leaned into him. He raked his fingers through Flynn's hair, wanting to be closer, closer, closer still. Zaphias felt so far from everywhere when he left his heart at home. Cloth caught beneath his fingers, a uniform, a barrier. He tugged at it, groaning his displeasure, but couldn't pull back long enough to strip it away. He was giddy, lightheaded, breath coming in rushed gasps between kisses. Flynn filled his senses—taste, touch, smell. He heard the huff of his breath, the tiny sounds of need. He felt hands slip out from beneath him, rub over his thighs, urging them further apart still, thumbs tracing along the insides and sending heat racing straight to his groin. He moaned as Flynn rocked into him.
Yuri wasn't sure which of them started it, but he suddenly found himself scooting backward over the bed. Flynn paused only long enough to tear off his boots and then Yuri's before climbing up on top of him. Their legs tangled together and rucked up the sheets and, before he realized it, Yuri was stretched out and sinking into the downy mattress, heat pooling between himself and Flynn. He was drowning in warmth, feeling it fill him through the kiss, through the press of Flynn's weight on top of him. Every tiny movement generated another wave of heat that washed through him and left tingles racing over his skin. He wrapped his legs around Flynn, clawed fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his shoulders, fingertips snagging against the fabric of his uniform. That needed to go.
Flynn's hands slipped once more into Yuri's shirt, grasping at him, just as desperate to hold him close as to shove his shirt off and out of the way. His fingers dug into Yuri's skin, left heated furrows where they scrabbled for purchase. So many years, and it still seemed almost absurd how they couldn't actually become one no matter how hard they tried to touch, hold, taste, encompass everything about each other.
Between Flynn's pawing and Yuri wriggling his shoulders, they managed to peel his shirt half way down. It wasn't coming all the way off with Yuri's belt still tied, however. He thrust his hips up, groaning as he rubbed against Flynn and forgetting for a moment that he'd only meant to make room for his hands at the small of his back. Flynn ground against him, an incredible distraction as Yuri reached back and tore at the knot of his belt. All the while, Flynn's hands continued roaming his chest and sides, and digging beneath his back, unable to sate the desire for touch.
The knot of Yuri's belt came free, and suddenly both of them were yanking at the cloth, hands fumbling and getting in each others' way as they rushed to unwrap the damn thing. Flynn pulled it off at last, and he'd barely moved his arm to toss it aside when Yuri was grinding up against him again, lifting his hips free of the bed in order to shove his pants down and out of the way. A whine escaped his throat, the need making itself known audibly since the way Flynn's hands set his skin alight wasn't anywhere near enough to quench the thirst that had taken over. Yuri needed Flynn like he needed air, and was feeling a little lightheaded as he gasped for breath between bruising kisses that left him wanting more and more.
When Flynn broke the kiss and pulled away, Yuri snarled. Strong hands on either side of his ribs held him down, lips against the top of his quivering stomach calmed the frustration. The teasing press of a tongue precipitated a bite and made him jump, and Flynn took advantage of the distraction to rip Yuri's shirt open down the last few buttons. Then, settling his hands firmly just beneath Yuri's ribs, Flynn slid them down Yuri's body, touch gliding over the smallest contour of muscle and scar tissue.
Yuri felt the scar from Zaude keenly with a twinge of phantom pain and the sudden apprehension that Flynn would notice it. He expected Flynn to pause at any moment, to come to a full stop and ask if he was all right, ask about the sudden tension in his muscles, ask about the way he clenched his jaw and forced it to relax, ask about the scar and how Yuri had earned it.
None of that happened, of course. The thoughts remained worries locked away in Yuri's mind, a possibility to be dealt with another day or, if he was lucky, never. Flynn never even hesitated. He reached Yuri's waist and dug between flesh and sheets, fingers seeking the curve of Yuri's ass. Squeezing playfully, he continued down to catch up the waist of his pants and finish the job Yuri had left undone.
As Flynn worked Yuri's pants free, he kissed down his stomach, sucking at his skin to leave tell-tale marks of passion, little signs that Yuri belonged to him in the same way that he belonged to Yuri. His kisses burned cold, the heat of his mouth and the air over where he'd been indistinguishable in sensation to Yuri's clouded mind. He gasped for breath and grasped at handfuls of Flynn's hair as those kisses trailed lower and lower and fuck he could feel right where Flynn was headed, phantom sensations charging forward along the trail he was mapping over Yuri's skin.
The mattress rocked beneath him as Flynn moved to kneel beside him rather than between his legs, getting out of the way as he tugged Yuri's pants down past his knees. His lips reached the very base of Yuri's cock, leaving Yuri clenching his fists around the sheets, hips trembling with the urge to buck, and it was then that Flynn—cock-sucking bastard tease!—sat back and stopped. He waited until Yuri opened his eyes and focused on him, waited with a smug smile plastered across his face, pupils gone wide and darkening his blue eyes as his gaze wandered hungrily over Yuri's body. The eager way his eyes roamed sent a jolt down Yuri's spine, making him even more keenly aware of the cessation of touch and sensation that had been carrying him away.
Abruptly, Flynn yanked Yuri's pants the rest of the way off, tossing them aside with a snap of fabric and barely a glance away. Yuri's shirt still hung on, though it was gaping open and the sleeves were bunched up over his forearms. Flynn knelt at his side, eyeing him like a pauper at a feast. The weight of his gaze was tangible, but Yuri needed heat and friction and didn't care about letting Flynn sit back to admire the view. He levered himself up and grabbed a handful of short, blond hair to yank him into a kiss. Immediately, Flynn's hands were once more warming his skin, and Yuri moaned his appreciation. He let himself be guided back down onto the mattress, a little curious as to why Flynn was turning him around when the bed was plenty wide enough for them to stretch out, but not interested enough to break the kiss to ask. He shuffled over the covers, feeling them twist and gather beneath him, feeling Flynn between his thighs as they moved.
When Flynn finally stopped and let him settle, began kissing down Yuri's neck quick and hot as fire licking over his skin, Yuri found that his head was hanging over the edge of the bed. He started to say something, opened his eyes, and gaped. The folding screen set at the foot of Flynn's bed was actually a tall, three-paneled mirror. Each panel was angled very gently so that the top leaned in toward the bed. Yuri was staring right into his own eyes, seeing his hair trailing down toward the floor where it wasn't caught up beneath him. His face stared back at him in triplicate, flushed with arousal, eyes dark and yearning. More, he could see Flynn on top of him, gilded by candlelight in the first mirror, half overtaken by shadow in the last. That head of blond hair bent over his chest, broad shoulders looming over his body as Flynn kissed his way down toward Yuri's waist. He knew, with sudden, incredulous clarity, that Flynn had set this up on purpose.
Yuri felt Flynn pause, watched as he lifted his head, and met the reflection of those stunning blue eyes. Flynn's gaze was intense as they studied their reflections, taking in every detail of the scene. Yuri's eyes flickered away from the center mirror to see Flynn in the others, his sight fixed on Yuri, palpable, lips parted, anticipation thrumming along the lines of his body. He was still fully dressed, though disheveled and missing a button near his collar where Yuri had begun tearing his shirt open. His hair was a bird's nest over his wide eyes, pupils blown huge with wanting. His chest was heaving the same as Yuri's. Haste and passion had left them short of breath, the air nearly burned from their lungs. His hands rested low on Yuri's sides, just above the bones of his hips. Yuri could feel them waiting there, fingertips barely pressing into his skin. He looked so pale compared to Flynn's tanned hands, though he could see his cock between them, shadowed by Flynn's body, dark and straining.
The sight reminded him that he would be able to see everything Flynn did in a way he never had before, and his heart hammered against the inside of his ribs. Flynn was glancing back and forth between the reflections of Yuri's body and the real thing. He trailed his hands over Yuri's skin, watching for his reaction in the mirrors. He stretched forward, leaning over Yuri's body, thigh pressing in-between Yuri's legs and wrenching a groan from his throat. Yuri craned his neck, eyes closing reflexively at the feel of Flynn pressing along his length. Hot breath tickled along his throat a moment before he felt lips above his Adam's apple. Another kiss was pressed to the bared underside of his chin, and he cracked his eyes open to see Flynn's reflection watching him from beneath a fringe of golden hair. He felt the wet press of a tongue and watched as Flynn licked right up to the tip of his chin before easing back with a self-satisfied smile, taking away the teasing friction of the pressure of his thigh, the rub of his pants against Yuri's cock. The air felt like ice against Yuri's skin. He burned.
“Do you like it?” Flynn asked. His voice was breathy and Yuri shivered to hear it, knowing what that meant. Sure enough, when he looked into the mirrors, he could see a tell-tale bulge between Flynn's legs and knew the strain was getting to him, too. Flynn had this thing about anticipation, though. He liked to draw things out as long as he could until Yuri was nearly out of his damn mind for wanting and feeling and being danced along that precarious edge of utter satisfaction.
“Not really interested in the décor,” Yuri managed. To prove his point, he lifted his head to meet Flynn's eyes. When he started to sit up, Flynn pressed a hand firmly to the center of his chest.
“Patience,” he chided gently.
His touch wandered down Yuri's skin, fingers snaking in a sinuous line over the muscles of his stomach. Flynn was smiling as he veered his hand away at the last minute to caress high up on the inside of Yuri's thigh. How many people would be able to guess that their stalwart young Commandant was such a fucking tease in the bedroom?
“All things come in time.”
Yuri let out a strangled groan and gave up the fight to keep his head up. The mattress shifted beneath him, and he saw Flynn shuffling back to give himself enough room to lower his head between Yuri's legs. He wasn't done with his teasing, of course. His hair tickled Yuri's cock, but Flynn's attentions were focused on the pale flesh of his thigh. He kissed Yuri's skin, bathing him with affection. The sunlight pressure of his lips sent gentle waves of warmth coursing through Yuri's body. When Flynn suddenly bit him, the shock of it was enough to make his hips jerk involuntarily. He groaned, pressing his head back against the mattress. When he checked the mirrors, Flynn wasn't even trying to sneak a peek. His mouth was locked against Yuri's leg, sucking on the little hurt he'd given, tongue lapping at Yuri's skin. There would be a bruise rising to the surface soon, another mark of this private aspect of their bond.
The mirrors broke Flynn into facets: one offering a glimpse of freckled cheekbone and pale lashes, one holding the width of his shoulders and the flyaway crown of his hair, one masking him in soft shadows. To see it all as if it was happening to another him while feeling the heat against his skin made Yuri giddy, made the room seem close and dreamlike. Flynn was a devilish incubus, marking him again and again, dappling the insides of his thighs and avoiding his growing need until Yuri was a squirming mess of exposed nerves, tearing the covers loose from where they'd been neatly tucked in, and biting his lip when he wasn't moaning for Flynn to continue or swearing at him for not speeding up. His hips were twitching at every little nip. His thighs ached, and the heat between his legs was unbearable. The brush of Flynn's head against his cock wasn't anywhere near enough to satisfy the craving for release, and Yuri was one more ignored plea away from taking matters into his own hands. He couldn't wait any longer for gratification from his stubborn tease of a lover.
The moment Flynn realized what Yuri was doing, he grabbed his wrists and pinned Yuri's hands down on either side of him. A smile stretched across his lips as he lifted his head to stare avidly into the mirrors. Clicking his tongue, he shook his head with mock disappointment.
“Why are you always in such a hurry to rush ahead?”
His voice was palpable there in the privacy of his bedroom, amid the honey gold light of the candles that lit the room, and the deep, soft-edged shadows they threw. Yuri shivered as the sound washed over him. He could practically feel Flynn's gaze roving hungrily over the reflections of his body, and that only fueled his need for touch.
“Flynn, I swear...!”
“Mmm?” He leaned low, hands still pressing Yuri's wrists into the bed as he stopped just above the trembling tip of Yuri's cock. His breath was a featherlight tickle and entirely unfair. “What do you swear?”
Yuri groaned. He hadn't thought that far and Flynn knew it. The vibrations of Flynn's chuckle traveled between them. His lips just barely brushed Yuri's tip, probably on accident, but Yuri's hips bucked and he couldn't hold back a whimper.
“All right then. Here's an easier one: What do you want me to do?”
Flynn was staring, holding the reflection of his gaze, and if Yuri hadn't already been flushed red as a tomato, the combination of that question and Flynn's focus while his lips were a pucker short of being on Yuri's cock would have done it. He gaped, then figured that, if that was how Flynn wanted to play it, maybe he could steal the advantage. He flashed Flynn an upside-down smirk in the mirror and wriggled his hips between his trapped hands.
“Fuck me,” he challenged.
A grin parted Flynn's lips, revealing the white of his teeth. His eyes twinkled.
“Crudely put, but that's the idea. I plan on taking my time, though.”
“Hey! You just said—!”
Yuri's throat closed off, cutting off his protest as Flynn's tongue flicked over his tip. The sensation shot straight through his core like a lightning bolt. In the mirror, Flynn watched him, smiling, then began his game in earnest.
Hands still holding Yuri's, Flynn used only his mouth to touch and to tease. He worked the very tip of his tongue around the base of Yuri's cock before licking all the way up his length. Yuri's head lolled and he let his arms go limp as he moaned. Flynn's tongue swirled around his tip and flicked over the slit. He kissed Yuri there, softly, then opened his lips, sliding them over sensitive flesh as he drew Yuri in. Yuri's legs shot straight out over top of the covers, toes curling, feet straining as the close, wet heat of Flynn's mouth crept down, encompassing more of him with every racing heartbeat. His hips jerked, and he groaned at the hum of laughter that buzzed around him before Flynn pulled back.
“Easy....” Yuri's head was spinning. “Easy for you to say.” He got the message, though. No rushing for the finish line just yet. One way or another, Flynn was determined to make this last as long as possible—no mean feat when they hadn't seen each other for almost three months.
He gasped as the warmth of Flynn's mouth returned, pressure to answer the need building up inside him. Gripping the sheets, he squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the urge to thrust up into Flynn's mouth. His mounting desperation must have been apparent, because Flynn didn't tease as much as he might have. The seal of his lips, the light scrape of his teeth coaxed forth sharp spikes of pleasure that sent moans spilling from Yuri's lips. The firm press of Flynn's tongue massaged, urging him to let go, give in to the sensations that roiled beneath his skin and threatened to overwhelm him. Everything felt more immediate with his eyes shut. The rhythms in Flynn's motions were building him up to a grand release, and he could hardly bear the feelings that swamped him as they ebbed and surged.
Opening his eyes, the mirror at first was nothing but a blurry mass of shifting, indistinct shapes, all gold and shadow. Yuri focused in first on the bright chaos of Flynn's hair, the way it bobbed between his thighs. He watched as Flynn's movements slowed, watched and ached as Flynn drew his mouth gradually back until the head of Yuri's cock slipped free and the tip rested between swollen, parted lips, watched and realized that Flynn was watching him back, was staring with his eyes turned up beneath that fringe of unruly blond to meet Yuri's gaze in the mirror. Slowly—terribly, wonderfully, sweetly slowly—he spread his lips around Yuri once more, the reflection of his eyes fixed on Yuri's the entire time. Grateful that the flush of arousal would hide the heat that had risen in his face, Yuri let his eyes slide shut once more.
Flynn's grip on Yuri's wrists eased and then disappeared altogether. He put his hands to better use, trailing them in over Yuri's hips to gather around the base of his cock and stroke him, fingers rising to meet his lips and falling away as he lifted his head. Earlier warning forgotten, Yuri rolled his hips to meet Flynn's touch. The slow steady thrust of his hips was a ripple that ran the length of his body. He craned his head back, pressing his shoulders into the mattress. It felt as if he might push himself right off the edge of the bed, but he didn't have it in him to care. The heat of Flynn's mouth, the feel of his palm and fingers curled around his shaft filled Yuri's awareness. He was shaking with the effort of holding back and with the gratification of release swelling nearer and nearer with every roll of his hips, every press of Flynn's tongue and squeeze of his hand. His throaty moans had turned to needy sounds that rode the tails of harsh, gasping breaths. His hands had let go their death grip on the sheets to tangle in Flynn's short hair, gripping, guiding, barely holding back from forcing the measured movements that were slowly coaxing Yuri to climax.
Flynn hummed around him and Yuri nearly swallowed his tongue. The rhythm of his hips faltered, twitching upward, seeking more. Pulling back with a scrape of teeth, Flynn lapped at his skin, cradling Yuri's cock with one hand as his tongue slid from base to tip. He rubbed his thumb over the very top, teasing at the slit and only speeding his movements when Yuri cried out. It was only a matter of time now, a handful of moments timed in racing heartbeats. Yuri's hips jerked upward into the encompassing warmth of Flynn's hand. Although Flynn maintained his slow and steady motions, Yuri had passed the point of restraint. He thrust upward again and again, rhythm at odds with the way Flynn stroked him, but he could feel the pressure building to the boiling point, could sense the imminent release of orgasm and any touch would speed it closer and any friction would stoke the fires. He thrust upwards again and once more, gasping and needing and when he opened his eyes Flynn was there in the mirrors, watching, blue eyes as intense as the molten heat growing within him, building, bursting...!
Yuri curled his arms in, fists still clenched around the sheets to drag them into untidiness around him. He groaned loud and long, head thrown as far back at the mattress would allow, body arching, tugged along with the release that left him spent and limp when it passed. He panted, mouth hanging open. Although his eyes were closed, he could still feel the weight of Flynn's stare upon him, sweeping across his body in waves of heat. The room was warm. Behind the darkness of his eyelids it felt close, much smaller than it actually was, and he could almost imagine they were back in the Lower Quarter, home above The Comet. He let himself forget for a moment that the palace was Flynn's home now. In the warmth and the deceptive darkness, things were simple once again.
Reality returned with a jolt as Flynn licked across the top of his thigh. Still hypersensitive to touch, Yuri jerked and shouted. He rose up on his elbows, rumpled shirt pulling tight around his arms, hair falling across his face and over his shoulders in tangled hanks. Flynn was grinning up at him like a cat over cream.
“Can't have you dozing off without getting cleaned up.”
Flynn's breath was a warm fog over Yuri's stomach. He gasped, head lolling back as Flynn licked him clean with long, firm strokes, or quick, teasing flicks of his tongue. Every time Yuri snuck a peek at the mirrors, he saw Flynn watching him, eyes ardent and desirous. Yuri wanted him all the more for that look, for the way it excited him and elevated him, the way it made him something special in a way that he could never do for himself, no matter how happy finding his path and his family had made him. Yuri loved Flynn with everything he had. That in itself made Flynn special.
Flynn had always been thorough, and joining the Knights had only encouraged that in him. The trait wasn't exclusive to his working life. Yuri was trembling long before Flynn finished cleaning him off. The damp trails over his stomach felt cold where the air breathed against them. His legs were stretched out and straining, toes curling as Flynn kept at his task. If he'd had anything left to give, Flynn would have needed to start all over again. Pleading groans spilled from his throat as Flynn lapped up and down his length and sucked him clean. Gently, he urged Yuri's legs further apart. His tongue tickled in the valley between thigh and groin. Turning his head, he pressed his lips and nose to the tender skin of Yuri's inner thigh.
"You're beginning to dapple. I got a little carried away earlier." There was a note of contrition in his voice. Delicately, he bathed the forming bruises, lips and tongue gentle as the pressure of sunlight.
"If you ever get out of hand, I'll let you know."
He nodded and placed another kiss upon Yuri's skin. Flynn knew that Yuri enjoyed it when he got a bit rough, but he sought reassurance every now and again anyway, and he made sure to show the tender side of his affection. When he finished kissing his way up the first of Yuri's legs, he started on the other, pressing his lips softly to his knee and working his way gradually upward. His fingertips were the barest points of pressure where they rested on Yuri's skin.
Propped up on his elbows and staring down the length of his own body as Flynn's head bobbed between his thighs, a stray thought wandered into Yuri's mind and settled there. Imagining it sent a shiver down his spine. Awash in the afterglow and practically buzzing from Flynn's continued attentions, Yuri voiced the idea, masking it in low, teasing tones.
"Ought to get you a pair of cat ears to wear. Bet they'd suit you."
"Hmm?" He kissed high up on the inside of Yuri's thigh, slipping his tongue between his lips to press the very tip of it against that sensitive skin. The gesture became a slow, indolent lick, punctuated with a click of his teeth at the end as he brought them together, scraping oh-so-lightly over Yuri's skin. That suggestion of a bite was enough to make Yuri shiver. Something twisted low in his stomach at the memory of the sharp pinch of teeth, and it seemed as if he could feel every spot Flynn had bitten him heat up with a sweet ache. Canting his hips upward in invitation for Flynn to nip at his skin, he received a question rather than a love bite.
"Is that a secret turn on of yours?"
A warm breath of laughter tickled Yuri's skin. "I know about that one already."
Swiftly, he bit down on the inside of Yuri's thigh, sending a jolt up his spine. Wriggling against the give of the mattress, Yuri grunted, pleased and hoping for another such token of affection.
"I meant the ears, though. Estellise told me about Brave Vesperia's affiliation with the Bunny Guild. Anything you want to tell me, Yuri?"
Groaning, Yuri covered his face with one hand. He felt the sinking and shaking of the mattress, the warm touches against his skin as Flynn crawled up to lay down stretched out atop him. When he peeked out from behind his fingers, it was to see Flynn grinning at him.
"We could try it," Flynn said. "I think a pair of bunny ears might actually make you a little cute."
Yuri started to take offense to that, then rolled his eyes and shrugged it off. "I'll hold you to that," he promised, wrapping his arms around Flynn for emphasis.
His shirt sleeves were still caught around his arms, and Yuri yanked them free one at a time. He squeezed Flynn tight, palms and fingertips pressing into his back to hold him closer still as they kissed. He could taste himself on Flynn's tongue, always a strange intrusion no matter how often it happened. Even so, he loved the way Flynn kissed him: languid kisses like the ones they shared now; kisses made sloppy by the haste of passion; playful kisses or angry ones; hasty kisses when Flynn woke up late and had to scramble to get dressed; lingering kisses when Yuri's time in the capital was over too soon; desperate kisses when Flynn woke from dreams of loss that left him mute and teary-eyed. When Flynn kissed him—when his hands automatically sought out the warmth of Yuri's skin, cupped his face, caressed his hair—Yuri felt like he was the only thing in Flynn's entire world.
He remembered when Flynn had been his everything—all his hopes and dreams and aspirations. Yuri saw the purest parts of his own soul in Flynn, held safe where he couldn't sully them with his actions. When Flynn held him, kissed him with such love, he gave all of that back to Yuri, allowed him to be pure and golden for just a little while. If Flynn could treasure him so deeply, Yuri knew that there was something of worth inside him, even when it was difficult for Yuri to believe in himself. Maybe one day he would no longer need Flynn to keep those parts of him safe. Maybe one day he would be able to settle that shining cloak of might-have-beens around his shoulders and stand proud to be as bright a star as Flynn, rather than acting as the shadow to his light. Maybe one day.
As he worked himself free of his uniform, Flynn lifted almost free of Yuri save where the gravity of the kiss held them together. Behind the slow caress of his lips, he plucked at buttons, wriggled his shoulders, pulled his arms free. Yuri tried to help, tugging and pushing blindly at the fabric, but the heat of Flynn's exposed skin was too great a temptation to ignore. He ran his hands over planes of muscle that shifted beneath his fingers, felt the interruptions of scars, the soft down of golden hairs leading south from his bellybutton. He felt Flynn's stomach expand as he drew breath, pressed his palms over his chest, drew his fingers back down over his ribs, and mapped trails onto his back, into the dip of his spine. He replaced the warmth of clothes with the heat of touch, familiarizing himself once more with the shape of Flynn's body, the way his hands fit against it, the way it moved, the texture of skin and scars, the odor of sweat and sex tickling his nose between mingled breaths.
Flynn's lips were slick and swollen, his skin damp with sweat, his muscles hard beneath Yuri's fingers. He moaned softly as his belt gave way and he slipped his pants down. His cock was hot where it prodded Yuri's thigh, and Yuri smiled around the languorous twining of tongues. Let the teasing bastard have a taste of his own medicine. Yuri worked his fingers against Flynn's back, massaging, creeping lower as Flynn hung above him, working his pants down his thighs. Past the base of Flynn's spine, over the curve of his ass, Yuri kneaded Flynn's flesh, parting and teasing, fingers dipping in at the very tops of his thighs and retreating, pinching gently as Flynn's hips twitched in response. He slipped his fingers into the cleft between his cheeks, rimmed his entrance with quick swirls of a fingertip, suggesting, withdrawing, clutching him close and letting his touch wander until he felt Flynn trembling in his hands.
It didn't make Flynn beg. He was pressing himself against Yuri's touch, dropping his hips to grind against him, but he wasn't pleading. His breath was coming faster, quiet moans slipping free between the press of lips as their mouths moved and reshaped against each other. The kiss was gaining urgency, but Flynn wouldn't beg. He savored the anticipation, quivered with it. It was Yuri who gave in, sliding a hand between their gently undulating bodies. Flynn gasped at the touch of fingers against his cock, at the feel of Yuri's palm sliding against that sensitive skin. The head tickled the inner skin of Yuri's wrist, as he teased with fingertips and turned his face aside to speak.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes,” Flynn breathed, not begging for release but stating a truth. Reverently, he kissed Yuri's cheek and neck, working his way back up along the underside of his chin before catching his lips once more. His hum of pleasure as Yuri's fingers curled around him seemed to vibrate right through the kiss and into Yuri's core.
Yuri went slow, recalling the dreamy rhythm of their kiss in his afterglow. Flynn's hips rolled to meet him, steady as the surf, accepting the easy pace. His hands worked their way up Yuri's body, skimming over his sides, thumbs brushing over his nipples, knuckles stroking the curve of his shoulders and the corners of his jaw. He stroked Yuri's hair back from his temples, toyed with his earlobes. Cupping Yuri's cheek, he rubbed a thumb over the skin just beneath his eye, and broke the kiss to trail his lips over the same spot.
“How did you get this?”
Caught up in the slow rhythm of the kiss, the feel of Flynn hot and hard in his hand, it took Yuri a moment to process the question, and another to understand that Flynn was asking about the thin, pale scar that rode his cheekbone.
“Insect plant. Caught me with one of its leaves.”
“Mm.” Flynn left one last soft kiss on the scar, and returned his attentions to Yuri's lips, slipping his tongue between them as Yuri welcomed him. His left hand carded through Yuri's hair, following the strands out, then settling on Yuri's shoulder, fingers rubbing over a scar high on the side of his arm. “And this one?” he broke the kiss to murmur. His lips trailed up to allow for an answer, alighting briefly on the tip of Yuri's nose, tracing the line of it up to his brow.
“Fought some of the Hunting Blades a couple months back.”
Beginning to worry about where else this play of touch and question would lead, he sped his strokes, hoping to distract Flynn. Rubbing a thumb over Flynn's tip, Yuri felt the fingers on his arm and those still tangled in the hair at his temple squeeze briefly. Flynn's breath was a humid exhalation over Yuri's skin, and he sucked in the next lungful sharply, hips jerking forward. Craning his neck, Yuri looked into the reflections to see Flynn straining atop him, eyes closed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he sought to balance control and pleasure. A squeeze and a quick jerk of his hand made Flynn gasp, made his eyes fly open, chin up so that the first thing he saw was the mirror, the reflection of his own need, the upside-down grin on Yuri's face. Flynn smiled back and ducked his head, kissing Yuri's exposed throat, nipping at his skin in an affectionate mix of pleasure and pain.
“And what...” His breath was coming faster now, breaking up his words. “...what about this one?”
His hand had trailed its way down Yuri's side to the scar left by Sodia's dagger, one of the larger scars that marred his body. Yuri tipped Flynn's chin back up to kiss him, delaying the answer.
“Mine are all boring stories,” he said when Flynn broke the kiss again, dragging in a heavy breath. “Tell me about one of yours.”
Flynn's throat worked beneath Yuri's fingers as he swallowed, and gulped down lungfuls of air. His eyes had fallen closed again, attention focused on pulling the answer to Yuri's request through the fog of pleasure that hazed his thoughts. He let the scar on Yuri's side be, reaching up instead to take his hand and guide it just a little lower until Yuri's fingertips rested within his against the patch of shiny, discolored skin high on Flynn's chest a little above his heart. Yuri knew the story of that scar already. Flynn had gotten it at Zaude, taking a blow meant for Yuri.
“Got this defending a friend.” Gently, he squeezed Yuri's hand. “Didn't think. Didn't have time. Would have...I would have laid down everything for him.” He opened his eyes, gaze as intense and deep as the blue of an endless summer sky. “I'd do the same again.”
“Idiot.” He yanked his hand free and curled it around the back of Flynn's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. He didn't need Flynn doing anything like that for him ever again, didn't want him to, either. Stupid, stubborn, noble, beautiful Flynn.... What the hell had they ever done to deserve each other?
He could tell that Flynn was close by the hitch in his breath; by the soft moans that rose from his throat, thrumming amid the wet sounds of the kiss; by the way the thrusts of his hips gained urgency; by the way he gripped Yuri's shoulders, nails digging crescents into his skin. Heat splashed across Yuri's stomach as Flynn spent himself with a prolonged groan. He let himself settle heavily atop Yuri, muscles lax. With a contented sigh, he daubed lazy kisses on Yuri's clavicle, his neck, and beneath the corner of his jaw. One of his legs rested between Yuri's, and he slid his hand down along Yuri's arm until he could twine their fingers together.
“Hope you don't think I'm done with you,” Yuri murmured, stretching beneath him. He ground his hips up against Flynn's, feeling a shiver send tingles over his skin. After all of that, he was well on his way to being ready for another round.
Chuckling, Flynn nuzzled his neck. “I'd be disappointed if you were.”
“So...about the mirrors....” Hot breath trickled across his skin as Flynn laughed again.
“I like them.” He set his teeth against Yuri's neck, letting them drag across skin as he slowly closed his mouth, pinching lightly, teasingly, until the little fold of flesh in the crook of Yuri's neck slipped free. Flynn's teeth clicked quietly together and he pressed a kiss where the scratchy feeling of the bite still lingered. “I've always liked watching you,” he murmured. “Not like this, I mean.” He ground their hips together, and Yuri drew in a long, deep breath as his arousal stirred. “Although I do love seeing you like this, but....”
He propped himself to be able to smile down at Yuri. “I used to pay more attention to watching you cook than listening to your instructions when you tried to teach me.”
“That explains a lot.”
Yuri grinned when Flynn bore down on him for the comment. He shoved back, poking Flynn's sides so relentlessly that Flynn actually slid off him. They tussled briefly, laughing, then settled again, stretched out on their sides, chest-to-chest. Flynn's eyes were bright, his smile warm. He lifted a hand, tucking an errant lock of hair back behind Yuri's ear, and letting his palm slip down over cheek and jaw to rest lightly on his neck, fingers massaging gently through the spill of Yuri's hair.
“I like watching you cook and play with Repede. I love watching you fight. When I'm not your opponent—when I have the leisure to enjoy it—it's breathtaking.”
That was about all Yuri could take. He butted his forehead against Flynn's nose, hiding his face. “What are you getting all soppy for?”
“Are you embarrassed that I find you captivating?”
“Embarrassed for you.” Gazing at Yuri as if he'd hung the moon.... Flynn always had thought a little too highly of him.
Gently, Flynn slid his hand down beneath Yuri's chin and tilted his face up, capturing his lips in a kiss. In the darkness behind closed eyes, Yuri welcomed him and all his wordless love and affection, offered all his own in return, and begged—with fingers reaching to card through Flynn's hair and hold him close—for more.
Time drifted by unheeded. The gentle ticking of the clock was lost in the soft sounds of their bodies stirring the bedclothes, the twining of tongues and parting of mouths, mingled breaths and huffs of laughter. Wrapped up in each other, the mirror was forgotten. Skin slid against skin, textures altered by sweat and seed, fingers catching on scars and tracing the aberrations. They moved slowly, rhythmically against one another, churning up heat that pooled deep within, setting off sparks that raced along nerves, wakening their spent bodies with the siren songs of touch and desire.
It had scared him once, the strength of his desire to give over everything to Flynn, to come as close to being one with him as humanly possible. That had been a long time ago, however, when the torches they'd been carrying for each other had crashed together and flared and sparked with an intensity that Yuri had neither known before nor expected. The love between them burned steadily now, tended over the years so that Yuri no longer feared being burned. He clutched at Flynn, kissed him with a deep, languid devotion and offered up his heart, knowing he held Flynn's in exchange. Strong, callused hands roamed his body, stirring him up. He basked in the heat and the sensations that swamped his body, sweet and sharp and deliciously exhilarating.
Slowly, the pressure mounted, and with it came a change in their tempo. Gentle rocking turned to grinding, fingernails raked over skin leaving reddening furrows over the trails of earlier caresses, the kiss devoured affection and left need in its wake. Feeling himself growing hard against Flynn's thigh, Yuri drew a leg free of the tangle to hike it up over Flynn's hip. The frisson that ran up his spine as he rubbed against Flynn made him gasp. His hips worked almost reflexively, chasing the pleasure granted by that movement. Flynn's lips parted over his bared throat, teeth a light suggestion against his skin, tongue riding the movements as he swallowed.
Flynn nuzzled Yuri's throat and drew his nose up, forcing Yuri's head back as he trailed kisses up beneath his chin. “Do you want me?” He murmured the question into Yuri's skin.
Yuri nodded, arousal thrumming between his legs, fogging his brain. Before he could thrust forward again, Flynn worked a hand down between them. He braced his palm against Yuri's body, holding him back, while his fingers petted and teased. Flynn urged him up until they were sitting on the bed, knees and foreheads pressed together, breath thick as warm mist between them. Yuri's hair fell around his shoulders, clinging to his arms like black, creeping vines as he embraced Flynn, nails digging into his back as Flynn stroked him—one-two quick, three slow and steady. His breath hitched in his throat. Quiet moans seemed to resonate between them. When Flynn pressed in for a kiss, Yuri melted into him.
He wasn't ready when Flynn drew back, not for the kiss to end, nor for the loss of touch. Flynn ducked and rolled out of his reach, came up laughing and unsteady as he raised himself onto his knees and shuffled across the overstuffed mattress to his bedside table. Even as he yanked open a drawer, Yuri realized what he was after. He started forward, crawling to Flynn on his hands and knees, and was forestalled.
“No. Stay there.” Flynn turned back with a radiant smile and a bottle held in one hand. He stumbled eagerly back to Yuri, crashing into him as the mattress dipped beneath his weight.
Yuri caught him, caught his laughter, and both of them shook with it, wobbling on their knees, clutching each other for balance and trying to renew the kiss despite grins that continuously pulled back their lips. Finally, Yuri sank back down to sit on the bed, guided by the weight of Flynn's hands on his shoulders. As Flynn knelt over him, he pressed the bottle of oil into Yuri's hand. The laughter faded out into quiet hums of pleasure. Without looking, unwilling even to peek and risk breaking the kiss, Yuri fumbled the bottle open and poured a measure of oil over his fingers. Flynn leaned closer, cradling Yuri's upturned face, even as he shifted to spread his legs further apart. He deepened the kiss as Yuri slid oiled fingers down the curve of his ass, teased the rim of his entrance with one finger. It was almost enough to make Yuri laugh the way Flynn canted his hips back, suddenly the eager one, suddenly no longer quite so interested in teasing. Yuri'd never really had the patience for it anyway. He pushed a finger in and swallowed Flynn's encouraging moan.
The warmth of Flynn's hands left Yuri's face. He caressed Yuri's neck, ran the tips of his fingers lightly over his clavicle so that Yuri shivered with the sensation, ticklishness feeding into arousal. His touch moved lower, palms pressing flat against Yuri's chest, fingers splayed over his pectorals, falling again, thumbs brushing deliberately over Yuri's nipples. Yuri arched his back, leaning into the touch, and Flynn took the hint. He pinched and tugged, and Yuri's finger inside him jerked, losing the rhythm of smooth, steady thrusts. Both of them were moaning softly into the kiss, and it seemed that every stirring of the air between them, every accidental brush of Flynn's body against the tip of Yuri's erection sent a thrill shooting right up his spine, set off fireworks in his veins that burned him up from the inside out.
Flynn's hands dropped lower still, pausing over the bones defining Yuri's hips, thumbs rubbing suggestively at his flesh and oh, fuck, he wanted so badly for Flynn to touch him, for those hands to fly across his skin and wrap around his cock, heat and pressure and friction. His hips jerked involuntarily forward just at the thought, and Flynn's breath came choppy with laughter muffled by their kiss.
His touch left Yuri wanting, left his craving unfulfilled. Flynn moved on to explore the planes of his back, fingers spread out, paired off, rubbing little circles over his skin, massaging tense and flexing muscles. He worked his way up along the valley of Yuri's spine, skirted beneath his shoulder blades, circled back down over his ribs. He lifted his head from their kiss, and Yuri let him go, mouth seeking out Flynn's chin and neck, the crook of his shoulder, warming with kisses, reddening the skin with nips, biting down to leave Flynn marked as his and his alone. Lips pressed briefly against the hair over his ear.
“You're beautiful,” Flynn murmured.
His eyes flew open as heat flooded his face. He'd forgotten that Flynn would be staring into the mirrors, watching the reflections of his tanned hands roving the pale, scarred skin of Yuri's back. It was such a stupid thing to say. What good did being beautiful do? And he was all banged up and scarred from a lifetime of scrapes and fights and battles. Still, the words had ignited a warm glow of pleasure within his chest.
“You're not half bad looking, yourself.” He said it with a grin, meaning, really, that there was something stunning about Flynn, about his bright and open countenance, the hope and strength that shone through. The flyaway hair, the freckles, they softened his strong, square features, added charm. He looked the part of a hero. One more sign that he'd been born for the role.
Yuri pushed in a second finger. Rather than let his thoughts wander down the old paths where he compared so unfavorably to Flynn, he focused instead on the swell of Flynn's chest as he sucked in a breath, the groan that vibrated up through his throat, the tightness clamping around his fingers, the way Flynn relaxed and adjusted.
Gradually, Yuri began to stroke once more, moving his fingers to help Flynn loosen up. He led his mind back to sensations—not a difficult task when he could feel the tip of Flynn's cock hot against his stomach, while his own ached for touch. Flynn rolled his hips. His hands hadn't stilled on Yuri's back, and he gathered up the fall of Yuri's hair, twisting it up and out of the way. Goose bumps crept across Yuri's skin, smoothed away by the warmth of Flynn's palm. Fingers caressed the nape of his neck, buried themselves in his hair. He set his teeth against Flynn's skin and savored the sharp tugs at his scalp. Flynn kissed him and let his hand rub firmly down the length of Yuri's spine, down and up and back down again, generating friction, a slow burn. At the lowest, his fingertips barely teased at the cleft of Yuri's ass. Rising steadily up, his hand curled around the back of Yuri's neck, thumb brushing just below his ear.
“Beautiful,” Flynn repeated.
Yuri added a third finger.
He'd gone quicker than he should have, but Flynn only gasped and writhed a bit, quickly growing accustomed to the feeling. “Yuri,” he whispered. “Yuri, Yuri, Yuri....” He rode the fingers that thrust rhythmically into him, moaning plaintively when Yuri pulled free to drizzle on a touch more oil for good measure. Flynn was eager for him—one, two, three—and used his grip on Yuri's hair to pull his head back, exposing his lips for a kiss.
The need was building, too keen to be ignored much longer. Yuri moaned loud and long as Flynn finally reached between them to touch him. He fumbled with the bottle, blind while his face was turned up into the kiss, and tipped oil out over Flynn's hand where it stroked him. Oil dripped onto his thighs, oozed down to stain the sheets. Yuri tossed the bottle aside, careless of what remained of its contents or where it would land. All that mattered was the feel of Flynn's skin against his, the heat of their sloppy kiss, hands slipping over hard muscles, gasping breaths coming faster and more desperate, the musky scent of Flynn's skin, of sweat and sex.
“I want to watch....” Flynn gasped the words between increasingly frantic kisses, and it took Yuri too long to work out his meaning through the rising tide of pleasure and need.
He let Flynn turn them around, watched panting as Flynn positioned himself on hands and knees facing the mirrors. His hands were drawn helplessly to Flynn, skimming over his back, nails raking down along his sides before gripping his hips. Yuri rubbed against him, head falling back as his cock nestled in the cleft of his ass. He wanted Flynn so bad he could taste it, could feel it thick as honey on his tongue. He opened his eyes to see himself staring back, multiplied, Flynn kneeling before him offering up his body, eyes like blue flames in the glass as he gazed intently back.
“Ready?” Yuri asked. His fingers were already moving, already positioning himself.
Flynn nodded, swallowed, gasped out a yes that was caught up and drawn out into a moan as Yuri entered him. He clawed at the sheets, eyes screwed tightly shut, and Yuri couldn't help but stare at the reflections. He drank in the lines of Flynn's face, the strain, the glimmer of white teeth between wet, parted lips, the crease between his brows, the sheen of sweat, the unruly mess of his hair, the apple red of his flushed cheeks.
“Ohhh, yesss....” There was utter satisfaction in Flynn's voice as he hissed the word. He opened his eyes, met Yuri's reflected gaze, and smiled as he stretched catlike, taking Yuri in deeper and drawing groans from them both.
“You like it,” Flynn said, and Yuri didn't know if he meant the mirrors of the way he fit so tightly, so perfectly inside. He rolled his hips, easing out and back in, not teasing, just going slow because it had been a while since they'd done this. Flynn moaned for him, lowering his head to press his face into the tangle of sheets. His reflections looked almost as if he'd abased himself in prayer.
The stimulation of movement, the slick, wet heat, spurred Yuri on. He increased the pace of his thrusts, burying himself quicker, harder, deeper into Flynn with every roll of his hips. Flynn was gasping with every breath, grunting, little sounds of pleasure spilling from his mouth as he rocked beneath Yuri. He kept his eyes open, gaze trained on their reflections: on Yuri's face, flushed and open-mouthed, framed by disheveled hair; on his pale, heaving chest; on the hands that gripped his hips and jerked him back to meet each thrust; on his tanned thighs, spread wide to either side of Yuri's. Flynn reached out, fingers sending a tremor through the mirrors as they fetched up against the center one. He traced the line of Yuri's side, and although shadows made it hard to see, Yuri felt a shiver run through him when he realized that Flynn's fingers hovered over the glass right where the scar from Sodia's dagger marred his skin.
Digging his fingers into the flesh of Flynn's hips, Yuri pushed away the memories. He rammed himself forward, dragging cries from Flynn's throat. Flynn encouraged him, matching Yuri's rhythm and pushing back to meet him. His hand fell away from the mirror, retreating to touch himself as Yuri took pleasure inside him, and still he stared, and still the weight of his stare sank beneath Yuri's skin, penetrated to his core where it burned.
It was growing hard to focus, hard to hold on to any awareness outside of the rhythm of their bodies, the building ecstasy that flooded his heart with every beat and made the air burn in his lungs. Distantly, Yuri realized that he had begun to cry out, too, that his voice was sounding along with Flynn's in a call for more, deeper, more, please...! He shifted on his knees and thrust forward, and Flynn tightened around him with a moan.
“There...!” He gasped. “Yuri, right there...! Just like that...!” His hand pumped, hidden beneath him. Yuri's nails were digging crescent furrows into his skin.
“Flynn! Fuck, Flynn...!” Words failed him. He'd never spoken of love or devotion, never spoken of how right it felt to be with Flynn, at his side, inside him. He trusted Flynn to know. He met the reflection of those blue, blue eyes in the mirror and willed him to know.
His head buzzed like a hive of bees. His body rocked, locked into a rhythm that sent pleasurable waves of sensation all through him, washing up against his skin from the inside. He felt Flynn tighten around him every time he thrust forward just right, knew shocks of pleasure would be coursing through him, wondered if it felt the same for him as it did when their positions were reversed.
He faltered as he felt the end coming, jerked forward one-two, quick and shallow and oh, it felt good, so good...! Flynn was watching him, gasping, eyes fever-bright, focus as sharp as the edge of his blade. He watched as Yuri thrust into him once and again and a final time, deep as he could go, as close as they could get to becoming one. Flynn watched him as his back arched, watched as his throat worked soundlessly, watched he came, expression avid all the while, body tightening around Yuri as heat poured into him. He watched as Yuri slumped atop him, fingers loosening their bruising hold, arms wrapping gently around his waist. He watched as Yuri placed trembling kisses against his back, watched until Yuri's fumbling fingers joined his own where they worked at his cock, and then Flynn buried his face in the sheets and thrust into the tangle of fingers, the cage of palms. He finished only moments later and was still aside from the heaving of his breath. Yuri hugged him tightly, gone soft inside him and unwilling to let go. Flynn's hand, slick with oil, sticky with seed, came to rest over Yuri's, pressing them against his stomach as he savored the contact and they basked together in the afterglow.
After some time, when their breathing had grown quiet and the air had started to feel cool against their skins, Flynn rolled onto his side, drawing Yuri down to stretch out atop him. They traded lazy kisses, fingers exploring new scratches and bruises gained over the course of their lovemaking. Yuri squirmed as he prodded each one, feeling tingles run suggestively down his spine. For the time being, he was sated. His desires remained banked, though he took some small pleasure in stirring the glowing coals.
“I need a bath,” Flynn said. His voice was rough, and Yuri laughed softly as he stretched to kiss his lips.
“Got another one of those in there?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the mirrors.
“Mm.” He laughed softly, lips puckering for another chaste kiss. “Next time you come for a visit. Definitely.”