Byleth's hands are warm and confident as they make their way down his chest, touching him with the certainty of a man who is familiar with other men. His lips are just as warm, and Dedue must make a conscious effort to keep his breathing steady as he is touched. It's nearly unbearable, how much he desires more of Byleth's hands on him but also feels that he must remain undemanding, letting him set the pace.

At the very least, he doesn't keep Dedue waiting for long. The ambient air is cool against his cock when it's pulled free, his undergarments dropping to the floor, and Byleth looks at his length-- despite its apparently unwieldy and unusual size-- without fear or apprehension. Byleth kisses him again, his stomach going tense at the soft brush against it. He can hardly believe it when the professor's kisses drift closer towards his half-hard cock; when those pale eyes meet his and almost dare him to look away as he kisses it, too.

"Byleth."

His voice is tense, his hands clenching uselessly at his sides as he desperately maintains control over himself. It's a far more difficult task than it sounds when Byleth seems half intent on teasing him all night.