The light from the stained glass rains down on them from above, and Byleth's hand rests briefly on Dimitri's head, smoothing down his cheek to tilt his chin up.
This is absolutely sacrilegious.
He keeps one finger on the man's chin, even as the sound of the clasps on his trousers coming undone echo in the quiet room. The robes pulled to the side, and Byleth stepping closer so Dimitri can see how wet he is.
One word softly spoken, but a commanding tone behind it.
Dimitri's throat works in a slow swallow. He feels a flash of heat run through his belly and a shiver up his spine. He's speechless for a long moment and then he simply nods dumbly and leans up and in to put his lips and tongue against Byleth's cunt, tongue dragging between his lips to taste him. It's an eager, almost clumsy movement, but Dimitri can't bring himself to stop. It's a slow one, though. Worshipful. Reverent. It's what he deserves.
Heaven help him, the man looks so good on his knees. The way he just dives in like that, so eager to please. He appreciates that he takes the time to savor his meal. Both hands go to Dimitri's head, not pushing him, but anchoring in his hair as Byleth finally breathes out a soft moan. The slow, curious search of that tongue through his folds, the way he's almost kissing. Such a good man.
Despite the distant sound of people outside, all around them. If they take too long, they're plenty liable to get caught, but that's part of the thrill. He can imagine the sight of them, Dimitri obediently sucking on him while Byleth's legs tremble for the will to stay standing. He almost wants to get caught, even as he feels how he's already dripping down his inner-thighs onto the delicately tiled mosaic in the center of the floor.
A hand rakes through Dimitri's hair, getting his bangs away from his eyes so Byleth can have a better view.
Dimitri's good eye is half-open, watching as Byleth trembles above him. The gentle touch of fingers in his hair and the knowledge that he's pleasing his husband is all that he really wants. All that he needs. It sends a warm throb of pleasure straight through him and he can't stifle the groan that vibrates against Byleth's lips as he pulls back for a moment, chin and lips stained by his arousal, and then his fingers join in. A pair of them slide into Byleth, stretching him open and digging in, hooking to curl against his inner walls. To go with it, he suckles his lips against the nub of his clit, teasing it with his tongue, wanting to earn the praise that he so desperately craves.
Ah. He's so messy already. He'd love to think a little more about how good that looks on him, but his ask is granted and those two thick fingers press him open. He's learned to be so good with his mouth, too. He rolls his hips against Dimitri's mouth and fingers, pulling at his hair more firmly.
"Hah- you're so good for me. So very devout." He knows that's what he wants to hear. "My love, who taught you to do that so sweetly?" And he knows damn well who, but it's fun to play at it anyways. He wants to come. Flames does he want to come so bad. He wants to push Dimitri down and ride his wonderful mouth until they come in and drag him out, but there are other, better plans.
The hand in his hair pushes him back and he uses one gloved hand to wipe the king's chin to very little effect.
Dimitri's face flushes at Byleth's words. It's a mockery, isn't it? Not that Dimitri minds, but it still triggers something him - something ashamed and embarrassed, but he still savors it. It's still a lovely, warm, heated feeling that makes him shudder. He tries to delve deeper, to give even more of himself, but then Byleth stops him. He blinks, looking a bit dazed, tongue dragging against his lips. He feels like he hasn't had enough, but he's going to listen. He's going to do what's asked of him - it's Byleth doing the asking, after all.
"A reward?"
He echoes the words as a question. He sounds hoarse and breathless already, even as he struggles to his feet and turns for the throne.
To be honest, he loves teasing Dimitri. The man makes it so easy, usually takes it on the nose, though Byleth is never intentionally cruel. The question is almost absurdly innocent. Like what? It's things like that that make Byleth turn to mush inside. Damn it, how is he so cute?
He's going to ruin this man.
"Good boys don't ask silly questions. It's a surprise." He guides him to sit as he leans back on the altar and winds the chain of a censer. "Now, Your Majesty, you're going to sit there and let me do what I want with you. You're not going to touch yourself, or me until I say so. And you're not going to come until I tell you to. Understand?" He doesn't wait for a confirmation, he knows Dimitri understands, and he likes this game.
Crawling up into his lap, Byleth plants his knees on either side of him, resting on his thighs as he unbuckles the ornate belt and unfastens his trousers. Reaching in to gently pull his cock through the opening and leaning back to admire for a moment. Those silky gloves gliding up the length before he lifts up and scoots forward. Resting his hands on Dimitri's shoulders, he sinks down onto him, biting his lip and groaning as he's filled up to the hilt.
"There we are. Isn't this a nice reward?"
sorry for bein slow had a hard time braining dimitri lately
Dimitri's lips snap shut. It's a little humiliating to think about - embarrassing, rather - at how his face flushes at the thought of being a good boy. It's a mixture of shame and arousal and an intense desire for praise from Byleth. He swallows thickly, gloved hands clenching and then relaxing as he tries to force himself to to be a bit less tense. That's difficult, though, with the hardness of his cock straining against his trousers and the way his head is still spinning with Byleth's scent. So he follows obediently and settles onto the altar, his heart in his throat.
This is wrong on several different levels, but he wants it. Intensely.
"I understand," he replies hoarsely, hands braced behind him to support his weight. His eye follows Byleth's every movement, wide and staring as Byleth examines him and then simply takes him - all of him - the hilt. His husband feels deliciously, sinfully wet and he groans aloud, eyelid fluttering, body tensing, muscles clenched as he tries to hold himself back from the rush of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm him.
"Y-yes," he mumbles, stretching the word out as he pants for breath, "Goddess - yes."
Hearing him like that makes it so very worth it. He likes the idea of setting him on edge, testing his self-control and seeing how far he can push until he gets flipped over and fucked rough.
One hand braced on his shoulder now, Byleth leans back and starts to roll his hips, setting a bracing pace. He's got absolutely no mercy. He can hear the echoing footfalls of those in the outer-halls just above his own panting. He cants his hips, adding more movement, making sure Dimitri gets to feel every angle of stimulation inside of him.
"Come on then." He breathes, "You can fuck me now, however you like. Just remember you don't get to come until I say. You ask me sweetly and I might answer your prayers."
Dimitri clenches his fingers against the edge of the altar, bracing himself, his knuckles going white as he tries to endure the jolts of pleasure that go running through him every time Byleth seats himself against his thighs. The slap of flesh against flesh and the slicker, wetter sound of his cock sliding in and out of him mingle into an obscene sound. He bites back a groan, his eyelid fluttering as he tries to control himself. He wants to do it - has to do it - for the sake of his lover. But it's difficult when Byleth seems to know the exact angle to hit to drive him mad.
Byleth gives him permission and Dimitri grabs at his hips now, hauling Byleth up and then down, urging him to go faster, his fingers digging in hard against the flesh of his hips. His name is on Dimitri's lips like a prayer now - rushed and breathless. He wants to end himself, wants to fill his husband - but he can't. Not yet.
That's more like it. The lovely feeling of Dimitri pumping into him. He is never going to get tired of hearing this man feel good. Everything else aside, it quietly sends Byleth through the roof, knowing that he can bring him this level of pleasure. He anchors one hand in that blonde hair again and pulls. Not quite hard enough to be painful, but enough to get the intended effect of yanking his head back so he has to look Byleth in the eye while he's being ridden... juuust as he slows his pace down, dragging Dimitri back from the edge. He still has to catch his own breath, and for a minute, he pauses completely, clapping a hand over Dimitri's mouth as the echoing footsteps and voices from the outer-halls come a little too close.
After a tense moment, that hand moves in favor of sliding two fingers into his husband's mouth. Compared to him, Dimitri was not quite as experienced or "adventurous", but that made it all the more fun to play the 'lets try to push all the Dimitri buttons and see what makes him moan the loudest' game.
Dimitri whimpers as Byleth tugs his hair and then they make eye contact. He draws in a breath to make a noise - something louder and more pleased - and then he almost freezes as he hears the sound of footsteps. He's teetering on the edge, trying to hold himself back, and his teeth dig into his lower lip as he tries to maintain what little is left of his composure. His eye is wide, pupil blown from the arousal and pleasure and he tries to suck down a few hurried breaths.
Then there are fingers in his mouth and he suckles - eager and wanting, his eye falling half shut again as he submits oh-so-eagerly to his husband's demands.
Byleth sighs, pleased at how eagerly Dimitri is trying to please him. He sinks back down onto him, resuming a steady pace. Time for mercy, he supposes.
"Mmh- you're so good. You can come now, however you want to, but I want to hear you." That's a dangerous ask, but a risk he's willing to take. If there's anything he loves hearing more than anything else, it's Dimitri feeling good. It's affirming in a way, to know that he can do that for him. He's too familiar with the sound of his pain, pleasure is the opposite end of the spectrum.
Those fingers slide out of his mouth and down to touch himself.
"Byleth, Byleth-" Dimitri gasps aloud. It's almost instant - as soon as Byleth tells him that he wants to hear him. Pleasure shoots through his body and his whole frame seems to go taut and poised as he tries to roll his hips up. He's chasing that high, that one moment of ecstatic agony that will grant him release. It comes a few moments later, his hips working until he finally slams Byleth down against his lap. His cock twitches and he groans aloud.
Winding him up and then setting him loose is a marvelous game and Byleth has to stop himself from moaning too loud as Dimitri pumps into him. He could scream right there- get them both in immeasurable trouble for it. While he wouldn't do it of course, the thought sends him over the edge along with the feeling of Dimitri's hands on his hips and the warmth inside him.
Once the haze clears, he lifts his head from the man's shoulder where he had rested it and tucks a few strands of blonde hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Hey." His voice drops from the authoritative tone into the more familiar softness, "Are you all right?"
Dimitri doesn't answer for a few moments. He's catching his breath, trying not to remember how to speak with all of his nerves still firing off. He leans into Byleth with a slow, soft exhale and a nod.
"Yes... yes, I'm fine. It was just - you're a lot sometimes, dearest."
"Thank you for being patient with me. Hmm, sorry to push you so hard." He takes a moment to clean them both up and make them presentable again, fixing poor Dimitri's hair and rumpled clothes.
"There we are, good as new. No one is the wiser. Very good oath-taking I might add."
"I'm... I'm alright," Dimitri murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle against Byleth's hand. He's breathing hard, looking more than a little rumpled and used up.
"And I have to credit the Archbishop for my excellent oath-taking. I couldn't do it without you."
He gets one more kiss on the cheek before Byleth helps him up and pulls him into a hug.
"You're forgetting the after-dark post-oath-taking ceremony I think." There is definitely no such thing. "Come on, lets get back out there and look like we did what we were supposed to, shall we?"
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This is absolutely sacrilegious.
He keeps one finger on the man's chin, even as the sound of the clasps on his trousers coming undone echo in the quiet room. The robes pulled to the side, and Byleth stepping closer so Dimitri can see how wet he is.
One word softly spoken, but a commanding tone behind it.
"Eat."
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Despite the distant sound of people outside, all around them. If they take too long, they're plenty liable to get caught, but that's part of the thrill. He can imagine the sight of them, Dimitri obediently sucking on him while Byleth's legs tremble for the will to stay standing. He almost wants to get caught, even as he feels how he's already dripping down his inner-thighs onto the delicately tiled mosaic in the center of the floor.
A hand rakes through Dimitri's hair, getting his bangs away from his eyes so Byleth can have a better view.
"O-oh. Your fingers- use your fingers, too."
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"Hah- you're so good for me. So very devout." He knows that's what he wants to hear. "My love, who taught you to do that so sweetly?" And he knows damn well who, but it's fun to play at it anyways. He wants to come. Flames does he want to come so bad. He wants to push Dimitri down and ride his wonderful mouth until they come in and drag him out, but there are other, better plans.
The hand in his hair pushes him back and he uses one gloved hand to wipe the king's chin to very little effect.
"Go sit on the throne- you deserve a reward."
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"A reward?"
He echoes the words as a question. He sounds hoarse and breathless already, even as he struggles to his feet and turns for the throne.
"Like what?"
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He's going to ruin this man.
"Good boys don't ask silly questions. It's a surprise." He guides him to sit as he leans back on the altar and winds the chain of a censer. "Now, Your Majesty, you're going to sit there and let me do what I want with you. You're not going to touch yourself, or me until I say so. And you're not going to come until I tell you to. Understand?" He doesn't wait for a confirmation, he knows Dimitri understands, and he likes this game.
Crawling up into his lap, Byleth plants his knees on either side of him, resting on his thighs as he unbuckles the ornate belt and unfastens his trousers. Reaching in to gently pull his cock through the opening and leaning back to admire for a moment. Those silky gloves gliding up the length before he lifts up and scoots forward. Resting his hands on Dimitri's shoulders, he sinks down onto him, biting his lip and groaning as he's filled up to the hilt.
"There we are. Isn't this a nice reward?"
sorry for bein slow had a hard time braining dimitri lately
This is wrong on several different levels, but he wants it. Intensely.
"I understand," he replies hoarsely, hands braced behind him to support his weight. His eye follows Byleth's every movement, wide and staring as Byleth examines him and then simply takes him - all of him - the hilt. His husband feels deliciously, sinfully wet and he groans aloud, eyelid fluttering, body tensing, muscles clenched as he tries to hold himself back from the rush of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm him.
"Y-yes," he mumbles, stretching the word out as he pants for breath, "Goddess - yes."
No worries bby
One hand braced on his shoulder now, Byleth leans back and starts to roll his hips, setting a bracing pace. He's got absolutely no mercy. He can hear the echoing footfalls of those in the outer-halls just above his own panting. He cants his hips, adding more movement, making sure Dimitri gets to feel every angle of stimulation inside of him.
"Come on then." He breathes, "You can fuck me now, however you like. Just remember you don't get to come until I say. You ask me sweetly and I might answer your prayers."
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Byleth gives him permission and Dimitri grabs at his hips now, hauling Byleth up and then down, urging him to go faster, his fingers digging in hard against the flesh of his hips. His name is on Dimitri's lips like a prayer now - rushed and breathless. He wants to end himself, wants to fill his husband - but he can't. Not yet.
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After a tense moment, that hand moves in favor of sliding two fingers into his husband's mouth. Compared to him, Dimitri was not quite as experienced or "adventurous", but that made it all the more fun to play the 'lets try to push all the Dimitri buttons and see what makes him moan the loudest' game.
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Then there are fingers in his mouth and he suckles - eager and wanting, his eye falling half shut again as he submits oh-so-eagerly to his husband's demands.
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"Mmh- you're so good. You can come now, however you want to, but I want to hear you." That's a dangerous ask, but a risk he's willing to take. If there's anything he loves hearing more than anything else, it's Dimitri feeling good. It's affirming in a way, to know that he can do that for him. He's too familiar with the sound of his pain, pleasure is the opposite end of the spectrum.
Those fingers slide out of his mouth and down to touch himself.
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Once the haze clears, he lifts his head from the man's shoulder where he had rested it and tucks a few strands of blonde hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Hey." His voice drops from the authoritative tone into the more familiar softness, "Are you all right?"
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"Yes... yes, I'm fine. It was just - you're a lot sometimes, dearest."
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"There we are, good as new. No one is the wiser. Very good oath-taking I might add."
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"And I have to credit the Archbishop for my excellent oath-taking. I couldn't do it without you."
Cheeky.
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"You're forgetting the after-dark post-oath-taking ceremony I think." There is definitely no such thing. "Come on, lets get back out there and look like we did what we were supposed to, shall we?"