Those words hit him about as hard at Byleth's dick hits his prostate, and there's a pretty equivalent effect too, one merely physical the other emotional. Though there's a part of him that does not want to linger too hard on the words, ones said in the throes of sexual bliss, and so he disregards them beyond that initial throb of warmth that radiates from his bosom. His bosom which heaves with heavy breaths of passion and exertion as they continue their lovemaking.

The kisses draw him in, and he returns their vigor with his own, even as his legs tremble from pleasure and exhaustion, he drinks up every bit of Byleth's passion. As his thrusts become less rhythmic, it's clear that Byleth is close. But so too is Emet-Selch, and he is sure to rock with him, flexing around him as he pumps his cock deep within him.

When he feels Byleth's orgasm claim him, he follows moments after. The passion more than enough to send him coming again, feeling Byleth's essence warm inside of him, his cock nestled deep. Everything about it is enough to tip him over that inviting edge, and so he releases his own seed, spurts of come mixing with what was already on his stomach as he lets out a cry of passion, hot and worn, but full of so much pleasure.

At the end of this, he's laying there, spent, sweat upon his body, his hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead, his eyes closed as he focuses on the cresting waves of pleasure that radiates through him. At some point he had gripped onto Byleth's back, his fingers digging in. He really doesn't know when that happened, he supposes it doesn't matter, but he's a little self-conscious of the tremble in his hands.

Eventually he opens his eyes, peering up at Byleth as he's looking down at him, surprised a little at the conviction he wears. Despite his best efforts, his own gaze is suffused with adoration as he basks in the afterglow. He wets his lips, wanting Byleth to kiss him again, but not daring to speak such a want, not when he's feeling this vulnerable beneath him.