He does make such a sight. So compliant, too. Byleth could absolutely get used to this. He hums softly at the admission.

"Oh do you?" Emet gives him the absolutely perfect setup with that comment. "You mean like this?"

Without further ado, he pounces on him, tickling his sides with cruel efficiency. Only for a moment though, before he lets up. No, that isn't the plan here. Yet. It's just enough to give him a taste of his intentions, to jolt him just a touch.

"Or perhaps you'd prefer something softer." He moves, opening the little box and extracting a couple of striped grey and white owl feathers. They're pleasing to look at, and pleasantly soft as he slides the tines between his fingers. With those in hand he climbs up to straddle Emet's chest. "I did promise you the more sensual side of this, did I not?"

He did, he knows, and he starts with something light, starting at his bound wrists, trailing both feathers down his arms, over across his shoulders and up his neck to trace and tease those sensitive ears.

"So. On a scale one one to ten, what about here? You seemed to like my mouth here, didn't you? You blush from your ears first, too. Just like me."