[The words are barely out of Sylvain's mouth before Claude is on him, one thigh sliding into Sylvain's lap as he leans up and in. Deft archer's fingers tangle in red hair as he claims his prize. It's no simple peck, either-- there's a hunger stirred up that leaves him clumsy in his eagerness, nipping at Sylvain's lip and nearly clicking their teeth together.
He snags one of Sylvain's hands in his own, guiding it to waist. He wants-- he's burning out of his skin with it.]
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He snags one of Sylvain's hands in his own, guiding it to waist. He wants-- he's burning out of his skin with it.]