Part of him did know, really. Provoking Byleth as he did consigned him to this ruinous end. As Byleth continues, talking as he does, using those feathers on him to ignite his nerves like white hot electricity surging through his body, he feels every scrap of dignity slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand.
His hands clenching and unclenching as his body convulses and his legs tremble, his breath quick and shallow as his dually euphoric and horrific climax encapsulates him utterly from little more than those twin dancing feathers on his dick and entrance.
It's nothing compared to the shame and humiliation that burns at his cheeks and consumes his mind, and he's utterly incapable of ignoring the image that Byleth has put into his head. Being on display like this, for all to see, this shame exposed to those he respects and adores, and how they must think of him for finding some deranged enjoyment from it. To be made to ejaculate from this...
The edging certainly did its part, of course, and that shows in the sheer amount that he comes. It's generous and coats his belly, even shooting as far as his chest with its projected force. By the end of it all, he's a quivering, breathy mess of a man, his face hot with shame and afterglow, though he does everything he can to keep it from view.
After a long moment, he finally finds some words for Byleth, though he does not look at him, does not remove his face from his bicep, "do not...breathe a word of this...to Hythlodaeus."
no subject
Part of him did know, really. Provoking Byleth as he did consigned him to this ruinous end. As Byleth continues, talking as he does, using those feathers on him to ignite his nerves like white hot electricity surging through his body, he feels every scrap of dignity slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand.
His hands clenching and unclenching as his body convulses and his legs tremble, his breath quick and shallow as his dually euphoric and horrific climax encapsulates him utterly from little more than those twin dancing feathers on his dick and entrance.
It's nothing compared to the shame and humiliation that burns at his cheeks and consumes his mind, and he's utterly incapable of ignoring the image that Byleth has put into his head. Being on display like this, for all to see, this shame exposed to those he respects and adores, and how they must think of him for finding some deranged enjoyment from it. To be made to ejaculate from this...
The edging certainly did its part, of course, and that shows in the sheer amount that he comes. It's generous and coats his belly, even shooting as far as his chest with its projected force. By the end of it all, he's a quivering, breathy mess of a man, his face hot with shame and afterglow, though he does everything he can to keep it from view.
After a long moment, he finally finds some words for Byleth, though he does not look at him, does not remove his face from his bicep, "do not...breathe a word of this...to Hythlodaeus."