He is as obedient to Byleth's physical directions as he is his verbal commands, as if he were truly bound to his authority and will. So anxious is he to fulfill what is expected of him, that when he's told to undress, it takes him no time at all. Not because he dissipates them, because he doesn't, that's not the obvious vibe here, but because he moves like a machine with deft exactness that his otherwise languished movements would not imply him capable of.

Byleth returns, telling him of a game, pinning his hands and kissing him with such command, before trailing to his ear that's red from his arousal, and he has his undivided attention for it all. He nods in silent submission, his breath hot and heavy while following Byleth's direction with tantalizing excitement throbbing through him as he is properly bound (he is surprisingly pliable) and instructed of the parameters of the game.

Part of him is a little embarrassed that his love for organization is being brought into this, but that isn't a bad thing. It's like being seen, but in such an intimate way that leaves him both feeling realized and mortified. It's a fantastic sensation of both warmth and ice running down his spine. Duality at its finest. Giving him goosebumps, raising the hairs on the back of his neck as a shiver runs through him.

The compliment and question issued once he's fully bound makes him pause as he stares at what Byleth is still wearing. He was so caught up with everything else, he failed to notice in full that he still donned the communal robes and mask. His throat and mouth goes dry seeing it, wondering if he plans to do all of this dressed that way.

He certainly hopes so. The way his dick twitches doubtlessly makes what he's staring at clear in its affect on him.

Oh right, the question.

"Aye, I want for scant more than to feel your hands upon me."