Archive of Our Own

The lands of Faerghus were a sight to behold in wintertime. They sparkled as though the goddess had scattered countless diamonds across the snow, spreading her glittering riches as far as the eye could see. Peaceful silence held sway, at least until true winter set in and turned the sunny skies a bleak and miserable grey.

Any beauty the landscape could have held was lost on Dimitri. He and his retinue had been returning to Fhirdiad from a diplomatic trip out west when they were caught unawares by a fierce storm, forcing them to shelter at the nearest inn.

That was two days ago. The snow had continued to fall since then, and there were no signs of it abating.

Dimitri’s advisors had insisted that using a carriage was safer in winter, but once the snow began to fall the road turned to mud, and moving a carriage through such terrain was a recipe for disaster. They were stranded, unable to move on until the sun came out once again.

Dimitri sighed as he looked out of the window. Despite his prayers to the goddess, the snow continued to pile up. The inn they were stranded in was cosy and well stocked, which was a blessing, but the situation was still far from ideal.

“Any sign of it stopping, Your Highness?”

Dedue sat down on the bench next to Dimitri in the common area, eyeing the dark clouds outside with trepidation.

“Not a chance, and if it continues for much longer, we might be in a lot of trouble,” Dimitri said, heaving a sigh. “It’s not wise to be away from Fhirdiad for so long.”

For all his concerns about what was happening in the royal palace in his absence, boredom was threatening to overwhelm Dimitri’s worries. There was so little to do during his confinement indoors that he was going stir crazy. The paltry selection of books the innkeeper had on hand was hardly enough to keep him entertained.

Black shapes appeared on the horizon and caught Dimitri’s attention. He leaned closer to the window.

“What is it, Your Highness?”

“There’s movement in the distance. Over there. See?” Dimitri said.

The shapes grew larger until they could be recognised as a band of men and women trudging through the snow, following the barely visible road that led to the inn.

Two men were mounted up at the head of the group. The first was a large, solid man with dirty blond hair and beard. His orange tunic stood out against his grey surroundings, and it was accented by armour that gave the impression that one was looking at a mobile fortress.

The man next to him was understated in comparison. His hair was the colour of a stormy sea. He was more youthful than his companion but was conservatively dressed in black and grey from head to toe, the pink trimming on his tunic and the flash of blue at his hip the only visible colour.

Dimitri coolly assessed the situation. The two horsemen guided their mounts through the snow with the calm confidence born through experience. Their men were armed to the teeth, brandishing an array of weaponry, but did not wear a lord’s colours. They marched in formation. Mercenaries. Too organised to be bandits.

How had they managed to make it through the snowdrifts? More importantly, what compelled them to brave the storm? Rest? Or something else?

The mercenaries swarmed the courtyard. They took refuge under the nearby awnings and stamped the snow from their boots wearily. Judging by their slumped shoulders and their tired, pinched expressions, they had been travelling in the storm for quite some time.

The two men on horseback dismounted and handed their reins to the stableboy. Dimitri eyed them warily as they entered the inn. His carriage was unmarked, and his retinue had eschewed dressing in Blaiddyd livery to avoid drawing attention to his status, but that didn’t mean that these men weren’t a potential threat. A mercenary’s intentions were only clear when you knew who controlled the purse strings.

The brush of clothing against Dimitri’s shoulder meant that Dedue’s hand had gone to his hidden dagger. He didn’t need to look to know how tightly wound he was under his winter jacket, and he hoped that Dedue had remembered to keep the murderous intent out of his eyes.

Hearing the bell on the door jingle, the innkeeper shuffled out of the back room, and as soon as he saw the two men, he cried out, “Jeralt!” and hurried to greet the larger man. Dimitri’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t expected such familiarity.

After a great deal of good natured back slapping, they began to conduct business. The young man in black stood behind them in silence, his hand resting on the sword at his hip. He swept the room with calculating eyes, sizing up the inhabitants while his companion talked to the innkeeper.

For the briefest moment, Dimitri met his gaze. The deep pools of water that were the stranger’s eyes felt like they were staring into his soul. The slightest shiver went down Dimitri’s spine, and then the young man looked away.

Behind him, the two men struck a deal, and a purse of money was dropped into a very happy innkeeper’s palm. The man named Jeralt put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, and they left the common room together to re-join their band. Dimitri’s eyes followed the man in black like a compass needle pointing north. There was something strange about him that he couldn’t put his finger on.

About a half hour later, the group of mercenaries filed back into the common area dressed in a dry set of clothes, having left their weapons in their rooms. They squashed together on the benches next to the long tables that were packed into the common area in order to make enough room for their sizeable group.

Dimitri eagerly scanned the crowd for the stern young man he saw earlier. Unluckily for him, amidst the sea of black, brown, and blonde, there was not a single patch of blue hair to be seen.

Feeling a strange sense of disappointment, Dimitri slumped onto the table.

“Is everything alright?” Dedue asked, his brows knitted with concern.

The wooden bench creaked when Dimitri stood up suddenly. “I’m going to get some air,” he announced. And with that, he pulled on his fur-lined jacket and stepped into the outdoors.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and no longer warmed by its rays, the air bit at Dimitri’s cheeks while he wandered the perimeter in search of the man in black. He had been feeling the need to stretch his legs for some time, but it wasn’t what he was really after. He had a compulsion to seek out the mysterious mercenary that he saw earlier.

His legs propelled by this objective, he eventually found his target sitting on a bench on the western end of the building; as far away as one could get from other people. The awning above protected the man from the worst of the weather, and he had discarded his armour in favour of a thick jacket and a scarf wound around his neck. His breath came out in foggy plumes, lit up by the light of a hanging lamp.

Despite this careful coverage, his hands were bare. A sword rested across the top of his thigh; he was stabilising it with one hand, and with the other he drew a whetstone along its length methodically.

His interest piqued, Dimitri observed from a distance. Being experienced with weapon maintenance himself, he recognised impeccable technique when he saw it.

“Need something?”

It took Dimitri a moment to realise it was the mercenary who had spoken to him. He hadn’t looked up from his work.

“I was just going for a walk,” Dimitri said, as he slunk out of hiding and approached the mercenary, well aware of how transparent his excuse was. “You take good care of your sword,” he said quickly, to divert his attention elsewhere.

“A dull blade courts death.”

The lamplight danced over the sword’s surface. Dimitri crept forward, captivated by its craftsmanship.

“Is that—Dagdan steel? The pattern weld is masterfully done,” he said.

The rasp of stone on metal stopped, and the mercenary looked up. “You have a keen eye,” he said. His gaze was intense, like icicles on Dimitri’s skin.

“I specialise in using lances, but I’ve trained extensively with the sword too. And when I’m not training, I research in my spare time,” Dimitri said, scratching the back of his head in an effort to appear nonchalant.

“So that fancy sword isn’t for show.”

Instead of being offended at the slight, Dimitri chuckled. “No, it’s not for show. I’d ask for a friendly duel to demonstrate but…” He stuck his hand out from under the awning, and snowflakes drifted into his palm. The courtyard was a muddy mess. Such a thing was not possible in weather like this.

“May I see it?” said the mercenary.

“Huh?”

“Your sword.”

“Oh, of course!”

It was unwise to hand his sword to a stranger, yet Dimitri couldn’t help but trust the taciturn young man. He unsheathed it from its blue and silver scabbard and gave it to the mercenary, receiving the newly sharpened sword in exchange.

Dimitri rocked on the balls of his feet while the mercenary turned the sword over in his hands, anxiously awaiting his assessment.

“If you are trying to conceal your noble status, you are doing a poor job.”

Dimitri frowned. “What gave me away?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?” Dimitri said weakly. His retinue prepared thoroughly for any anticipated ambush, and had gone un-accosted thus far. He’d assumed that meant their strategy had been effective.

“Take your sword, for example,” the mercenary said, holding Dimitri’s blade aloft. “The colour of the steel tells me the blade was forged from iron mined in the Ohgmar mountains. Ohgmar iron is uncommonly strong and fetches a high price, so only the nobility in Fódlan can afford it. In addition to this, Faerghus has a strong preference for longer and heavier swords, and the leather grip is dyed a shade of blue that only comes from a rare plant in Duscur, which narrows down its origins even further. And above all—” He tapped the engravings on the cross-guard and pommel, “—only blacksmiths in the south quarters of Fhirdiad know how to make these designs. The technique is a closely guarded secret passed down from master to apprentice. The waitlist to commission a sword from them can span years.”

Dimitri’s jaw nearly fell off. He’d been able to discern that much from a glance?

He had a lot to learn from this stranger. His breadth of knowledge was impressive, and his willingness to share it revealed that he wasn’t as reluctant to speak as Dimitri previously thought.

The mercenary’s voice was soft, like a luxurious pelt brushing against naked skin. Every word he spoke felt like a caress. It was better that he spoke little, Dimitri decided. His voice was dangerous. Addictive.

The mercenary rose and stepped out from under the awning. He twirled Dimitri’s sword in one hand, snowflakes falling upon his hair as he acquainted himself with the weapon. Then, he took the sword in both hands and slashed from different angles, so fast that Dimitri had to concentrate in order to follow his movements.

The mercenary wielded Dimitri’s sword easily despite its weight. He was as graceful as a bird in flight; floating as though he were weightless while he struck down imaginary enemies. There was no wasted movement. A tiny part of Dimitri began to fear him, and he wondered if this was what his victims felt before they were felled by his blade. The man in front of him was a machine of death.

The mercenary shook the snow off his head like a dog as he returned to Dimitri’s side.

“It’s well balanced. A finely crafted sword,” he said simply.

Dimitri smiled, pleased that his sword had passed the inspection of someone who knew what they were talking about. Inwardly, he was bursting with pride, as though he had been complimented personally.

Dimitri was beginning to see how he had been immediately pinned as a noble. The mercenary was plainly dressed, his speech devoid of the usual bravado that soldiers carried, but he didn’t need flashy words to communicate the breadth of his experience. It showed in the way he held himself, the way he moved; even in his utilitarian sword. If you took more than a cursory glance, it was easy to see the power that lurked within.

“Thank you for allowing me to test your blade,” the man in black said as they exchanged swords once more.

“To you too, it’s not every day I see a foreign-made sword like yours,” Dimitri said, his eyes shining.

The mercenary shrugged. “It’s nothing fancy.”

“On the battlefield, a beautiful sword is worth nothing compared to a reliable one, don’t you think?”

“You have a point.”

Dimitri’s attention was drawn to a snowflake that was caught in the mercenary’s hair like a lonely flower petal adrift on a pond. He reached out to brush it off and blanched when a raised brow was directed at him.

“I’m sorry! There was snow in your hair and I—”

The mercenary nodded. “Thank you,” he said, then he shivered and pulled his coat tightly around his body. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold.”

Dimitri followed him into the inn, amused by the deep pink on his nose and the tips of his ears. He forgot sometimes that others weren’t used to the cold.

The dark blanket of night fell over the inn. Soldiers, servants, and mercenaries alike crowded the common area, whiling away the time drinking and laughing. They stuck to their respective groups, the mood light-hearted and jovial despite the faint undercurrent of wariness that stood between them.

Dimitri and his new friend sat at a table near the fireside playing cards, their bellies filled with the hearty venison stew the innkeeper’s wife made. Dedue was nearby, keeping a watchful eye. No doubt suspicious of the stranger.

Dimitri plucked two cards from his hand and laid them down on the table.

“Two gryphons. I win,” he said smugly.

The mercenary shrugged and picked up his mug of ale, downing it in one gulp. He motioned the innkeeper over for a refill. They’d played for a few hours now and were evenly matched against one another, yet his opponent hadn’t a trace of red on his face. It was likely that the mercenary was going to drink him under the table if they continued for much longer.

Drinking had never been Dimitri’s thing. Not while he lived at the Blaiddyd Palace. Far too dangerous. As a result, his tolerance was low. Thankfully, at this stage of the game he was comfortably hovering around the tipsy level of intoxication.

Dimitri’s thoughts were interrupted when Jeralt walked up to their table. A brief flash of shock flitted over his face when he saw Dimitri sitting with his companion, then his expression returned to careful neutrality. Dimitri squirmed under the weight of his questioning gaze.

“We’re moving out in the morning, Byleth. Make sure you’re up at dawn,” Jeralt said, addressing the mercenary.

“Yes, Father,” came his reply, his attention not straying far from the pack of cards that he was shuffling in preparation for a new game.

Jeralt smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m heading off to bed. Don’t stay up too late,” he said before making his exit.

Dimitri’s heart fluttered. Byleth. So that was his name. He wanted to roll it around on his tongue. Feel its shape between his lips. Byleth.

The light of the fire kissed Byleth’s skin, and to Dimitri, it looked as though he were shining. His eyes lingered even when he was dealt a new hand.

He came to his senses just in time to see his opponent make his first move. They played their cards back and forth, but much to his dismay, his momentary distraction meant that he’d been outmanoeuvred from the start. Byleth emptied his hand and tapped the table with two fingers.

Dimitri sighed and picked up his drink. He downed the rest of his ale as quickly as he could. Soon, he realised that he had made a horrible mistake. He had been putting off going to the bathroom for the last three rounds, and his bladder was making it known that it would not wait any longer.

If Dimitri left the room, his chance meeting with Byleth would draw to a close. It was late, and Jeralt had made it very clear that they were leaving in the morning. The prospect made Dimitri miserable.

At the table next to him, two rowdy mercenaries smacked their tankards together. The sound of sloshing ale reached his ears, and Dimitri’s body gave him his last warning.

Dimitri reluctantly stood and bowed to Byleth. “I’m sorry to cut our game short, but I must bid you goodnight. I wish you all the best on your travels,” he said, then he hurried down the hall to the bathroom before Byleth could respond. He wanted to say goodbye properly, but he needed to pee so badly that he only just managed to get to the bathroom in time.

A woozy feeling snuck up on Dimitri while he did his business. He leaned his head against the wall to steady himself, muttering under his breath about his misfortune. If he hadn’t had so much to drink, he could’ve spent more time enjoying Byleth’s company, and he blamed it all on his ability to play cards.

Dimitri’s heart stopped when he left the bathroom. The subject of his thoughts was leaning against the opposite wall, a pale flush visible on his cheeks that the light of the fire had previously hidden.

“Do you need the bathroom?” Dimitri asked.

“No.”

“Do you need something from me?”

Byleth took a step closer. “You want to keep playing. Don’t you?”

“…Yes,” Dimitri said slowly, unnerved by how easily Byleth could read him.

There was a slight twitch in Byleth’s facial muscles that could have been a smile.

“So do I.”

Although Byleth’s words made his pulse quicken, Dimitri stayed put, keeping his feet rooted to the ground. The common room was noisy and filled with people, and now that he was alone with Byleth, the idea of returning to their table by the fire had lost its appeal. It was better when it was just the two of them.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Someone was coming.

Not yet. Dimitri wasn’t ready to give Byleth up yet. He was feeling uncommonly selfish, unwilling to let their time together come to an end or share him with anyone else. He didn’t want the fragile mood that existed between them to be spoiled.

Dimitri grabbed Byleth’s hand and ran, the alcohol in his blood giving him the courage to push past the voices in his head that held him back. He led his new friend through the corridors of the inn, away from the throngs of people, until they spilled out into the courtyard.

Driven by the desire to keep Byleth to himself, Dimitri’s boots kicked up the snow as he ran past the stables, seeking the royal carriage that was hidden from the main building by a tall wooden fence. He opened the door and ushered Byleth inside, quickly shutting the door behind him.

It was dim inside the carriage, the lantern hanging outside the stables giving just enough light to see Byleth’s face. The silence, now that they were totally alone, was as cold as the crisp night air.

Sobriety crept in. Byleth said that he wanted to play cards with him, not go cavorting around the inn like children playing hide and seek. Any moment now he was going to ridicule him and leave the carriage. Dimitri’s fingers clutched his pants, anticipating a rebuke that never came.

Oblivious to Dimitri’s inner conflict, Byleth looked around the carriage with interest. “So this is what the inside looks like,” he said.

Dimitri tilted his head. “Have you never been in a carriage before?” he asked.

“No.”

“What do you think?”

“Too cramped. A horse is better.”

His simple statement brought a smile to Dimitri’s face. “I agree. Although I’m not given much of a choice in the matter.”

The conversation died down once more. Irritation prickled under Dimitri’s skin while he tried to think of a new topic to talk about. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the beautiful man in front of him and knew how to extract that information, as he’d been trained to handle social situations since the moment he could speak. Normally, he could navigate them as naturally as he breathed. So why was his tongue suddenly tied in knots?

Dimitri was wrenched from his thoughts when Byleth grabbed his wrist and pulled Dimitri towards him. He pitched forward, and the next moment he was straddling the mercenary’s lap. Byleth wrapped his arms around his waist.

“What are you doing?!” Dimitri yelped, unsure if he was hallucinating the absurd situation.

“It’s cold in here. You looked warm,” Byleth replied, rubbing his cheek on the furs around Dimitri’s neck.

Amusement bubbled up in Dimitri’s chest. Byleth’s explanation was silly and childlike, but his matter-of-fact delivery made it feel like he was making perfect sense.

His inhibitions lowered, Dimitri gave into the impulse to run his fingers through Byleth’s fluffy hair. He stroked it gently, admiring its softness, and when Byleth closed his eyes and snuggled even closer, Dimitri’s heart melted quicker than snow in springtime. Byleth’s movements reminded him of a cat, and if he listened close enough, Dimitri was sure he would hear him purring.

From up close, Dimitri could see Byleth’s face in great detail. His dark eyelashes fanned sharp cheekbones that were softened by their dusty pink tint. Below that were his lips, pale red like the inside of a juicy strawberry. They were inviting, making him want a taste.

No, taste wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to kiss him—ah. So that’s why he felt so hopelessly drawn to him. He’s attracted to men too. To Byleth.

A bright red blush spread across Dimitri’s cheeks. It was an embarrassing revelation to have while sitting on someone’s lap, especially while the subject of said revelation was busy rubbing his face on his jacket. He turned his head away, suddenly feeling the urge to squirm away from their close proximity.

A slender finger traced Dimitri’s cheek and turned him back to face what he desired most.

“Don’t look away. I want to see your face,” Byleth said softly.

Dimitri looked where he was instructed and was immediately sucked into the deep whirlpools of Byleth’s blue eyes. Pulled in by their current, he floated toward them, unable to look away. He inched closer until the hypnotic whirlpools were all Dimitri could see. He wanted to drown in them.

Time stopped flowing while they gazed into each other’s eyes. Their bodies were the only thing that existed; the pounding of Dimitri’s heart, Byleth’s warm breath fanning his cheeks, and a certainty that he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Dimitri closed his eyes, waiting to be pulled under. Then it happened. A kiss. A thrill ran down Dimitri’s spine when Byleth’s soft lips met his. It was meant as a greeting, a gentle knocking on Dimitri’s door that promised so much more if he opened up and let him in.

There was no time to feel shy or celebrate that Byleth was his first kiss. He wanted to let Byleth in, and so he put his arms around his neck and returned the kiss. Unsure about exactly how to kiss another, he copied Byleth, the undercurrent of yearning flowing within him filling in the gaps in his knowledge.

They fell naturally into a call and response. Byleth led, and Dimitri followed. A quick learner, Dimitri rapidly gained the confidence to push for what he wanted, as hungry for Byleth’s mouth as he was for blood in battle.

His body was warming up, like Byleth was stoking the smouldering coals within his heart. From his head down to his toes the sensation spread, and when he saw the dark desire swimming in Byleth’s eyes, the heat became unbearable.

Byleth’s hands grasped Dimitri’s hips and pulled him in. A moan escaped Dimitri’s mouth. Surprised by the unexpected noise he’d made, he looked down, and his eyes widened when he saw the bulge in each of their pants.

Still unaccustomed to the sudden expansion of his sexuality, he stared at his erection in disbelief, then his attention was caught by Byleth’s obvious arousal. It was flattering. And sexy. He’d somehow lived seventeen years without discovering this side of himself. Perhaps it was simply a matter of a lack of exposure.

Byleth’s hands travelled lower. Dimitri bit his lip when Byleth grabbed two big handfuls of his ass. He needed no further instructions. He rolled his hips, pushing his erection against Byleth’s. Rubbing his arousal all over him. All the while he was learning, absorbing information like a sponge as he discovered how to use his body to make Byleth moan.

A droplet of sweat dripped down Dimitri’s back. It was hot in the carriage all of a sudden. Too hot. He fumbled with the buttons on his coat while he kissed Byleth, desperate to feel cool air on his skin but unwilling to separate from the sweet caress of his lips.

As soon as he threw his coat to the floor, Byleth was on him, peeling Dimitri’s damp shirt off his back and flinging it to the far corner of the carriage before taking his nipple into his mouth.

Dimitri’s strangled moan reverberated around the confined space as Byleth lavished attention on his nipple. With each flick of the mercenary’s tongue, his hips involuntarily jerked forward.

An insatiable hunger had taken up residence in Dimitri’s body, and the only thing that would satisfy him was Byleth’s body. Yes, his lips and hands were roaming Dimitri’s body, but being satisfied with that was like leaving half a meal uneaten. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Byleth was touching so much of him, and he hadn’t gotten to touch Byleth at all!

Dimitri’s hands flew towards the buttons on Byleth’s jacket. He needed to know what was under his clothes, to see what no one else saw, to know everything about him, down to the last freckle.

When the last button was undone, Dimitri removed Byleth’s shirt and jacket in one swift motion. When he saw Byleth’s body, he paused. A long scar ran down the length of his sternum, but it wasn’t the scar that Dimitri was looking at. He was staring at the neat patch of hair that covered Byleth’s chest and the muscles beneath that had been formed in battle over the years.

Dimitri’s thirst for knowledge deepened. He was curious about what was in Byleth’s pants, and whether the sight of it would have the same effect on Dimitri as the rest of his body. There was only one way to find out.

He slid off Byleth’s lap and onto the floor. Byleth tilted his head to one side, confused by the sudden change in direction. Dimitri kneeled between his legs, undid the buttons on Byleth’s fly, and gasped when his cock sprang out.

Whatever Dimitri had been expecting, it hadn’t been that Byleth would be so big. His weighty cock filled Dimitri’s vision just as much as it did his hands, and Dimitri desperately wanted it to fill his mouth too. He lowered his head and tentatively licked the tip.

Taking the initiative had caught Byleth off guard, and he grunted when Dimitri’s tongue made contact. Emboldened by the positive feedback, the young prince traced the veins on Byleth’s shaft, sliding his lips further down until the tip hit the back of his throat.

The throbbing in Dimitri’s groin intensified as he bobbed his head up and down. The enormous cock pressing down on his tongue turned him on, but it was the moans that Byleth made whenever Dimitri choked on his length that were setting him on fire.

When he looked up, Byleth was covering his mouth with the back of his hand, partially obscuring his face. But it couldn’t hide the vulnerability etched on his face. He was coming undone.

Enthralled by the first facial expression he’d seen on the mercenary’s face, Dimitri grew bold. He pulled back, making direct eye contact as he drew his tongue seductively along the underside of Byleth’s shaft, and when he reached the tip, he kissed it with a smile on his face.

“Stop!” Byleth moaned, grabbing Dimitri’s shoulders and pushing him back. His face was bright red, his breath coming out in sharp pants. He shoved his hands into Dimitri’s pants and grabbed his ass. “Take them off,” he growled.

Dimitri rushed to take his remaining clothes off. They flew off into the corner, and then Byleth was pulling him back into his lap and crushing their lips together fiercely. His hands held Dimitri’s head in place as his tongue thrust into his mouth and hunted him down like a panther chasing its prey.

The change in Byleth’s demeanour startled Dimitri. He’d never imagined that a stoic man like him could kiss with so much passion, and if sucking his dick was all he had to do to unleash Byleth’s true nature, he was all too willing to chase that high to the ends of the earth. He wanted to make Byleth’s condition worse, to turn him on so badly that he would become as desperate for Dimitri’s body as he was for his.

Byleth brought two fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. Dimitri didn’t understand the action at first, but when those fingers circled his asshole, Byleth’s intentions were obvious. Dimitri panicked, unused to the sensation.

Byleth’s lips drifted down to graze Dimitri’s neck, planting kisses that targeted all of his soft, sensitive places. Dimitri’s body turned to jelly under his touch, and he forgot all about Byleth’s finger until he pushed it inside him. Dimitri tensed. The shock froze him in place.

With a gentle nudge from Byleth, Dimitri was set into motion, rocking his hips back and forth in time with the finger that Byleth was pushing in and out of his ass. Dimitri was trapped between cock and finger. No matter which way he thrust his hips, it felt so good that the only thing he could do was moan.

“More!” Dimitri begged.

Another finger entered his ass. It burned a little at first. But two weren’t enough for his appetite.

“More!” Dimitri cried out. Byleth obliged, pushing a third finger inside him. The burning intensified, but Dimitri ignored it. He knew what would happen once his ass was ready, and he was so impatient to get there that he didn’t care if it hurt or not.

Dimitri forced his acclimation, pushing himself into Byleth’s fingers repeatedly. He wanted Byleth inside him. Wanted him to take his virginity. He could think of nothing else.

“Can I fuck you?” Byleth whispered against his skin, his voice thick with need.

Dimitri nodded. “I want you to be my first,” he said, a determined look in his eyes.

Byleth’s lips pursed into a thin line. His eyes wavered while two armies within him waged war over whether to be gentle or to give into his lust and fuck Dimitri senseless.

Dimitri knew which one he preferred. He grabbed Byleth’s thick cock and shoved it inside his ass, slamming himself down so quickly that Byleth’s loud moan startled the horses in the stable nearby.

Dimitri’s bold move didn’t go quite as planned. The sudden intrusion of an enormous cock inside his ass shook every muscle in his body. He clung to Byleth as he sucked in large gulps of air and pushed away the urge to get up, willing himself to get used to Byleth’s cock as fast as possible.

“Are you alright? You need to take it slow when it’s your first time,” Byleth said, full of concern. “Do you want me to take over?”

Dimitri shook his head. He didn’t want to take it slow. He breathed in deep before lifting his ass and lowering it down again. The angle was awkward. He winced.

“Like this,” Byleth whispered.

He nudged Dimitri in the right direction, and when he sank down again, his mouth fell open. The difference in angle was subtle, but it made all the difference. This time, ripples of pleasure radiated throughout his body.

“Keep going. Don’t stop,” Byleth panted as Dimitri rocked himself on his cock.

“There is nothing in the world that could make me stop,” Dimitri replied. He fucked Byleth steadily. There was still so much of Byleth that he had to explore, so many weak points that he had yet to discover. He was determined to find them.

Byleth licked his lips. “We’ll see about that.” He pushed Dimitri down onto the seat and quickly overturned his plan. Sweat dripped from Byleth’s brow, and the curve of his lips bared his fangs. He looked like a starving wyvern towering over its next meal.

Dimitri inhaled sharply. He was going to be devoured.

Byleth hoisted Dimitri’s leg onto his shoulder and then he thrust into him, again and again. Having come to the conclusion that being gentle was no longer necessary, he gave Dimitri the hard fuck that he craved, forcing him to make sounds that he hadn’t known he was capable of making.

Between the cock pounding his ass and the love bites that Byleth distributed along the length of his calf, Dimitri felt like he was going to lose his mind. The angle that Byleth’s cock was at when he thrust inside Dimitri made him feel dizzy, like he was a string that was slowly being pulled taut.

The pleasure in his belly was transforming Dimitri. He was turning a mirror image of Byleth; wild, dark-eyed, with the desire to consume. He pulled Byleth toward him and stuck his tongue in his mouth, his clawing need seeking him out with an equal passion.

When they broke apart, Byleth swept Dimitri’s damp fringe out of the way so he could see the fire in Byleth’s eyes when he told him, “Cum for me.”

Dimitri’s fingernails dug into Byleth’s back as stars exploded in his vision. He spasmed beneath him, every muscle in his body tensing repeatedly as cum spewed from his cock. A fresh moan escaped him each time his asshole clenched around Byleth’s cock, sending another series of spasms coursing through his body.

He was barely staying conscious, his orgasm overwhelming his senses. But before he could pass out, there was something he needed more than words.

“Cum inside me. Please!” Dimitri pleaded.

The effect his begging had on Byleth was instantaneous. His body seized up, and he held Dimitri in a vice grip as his hips came to a crashing stop against his ass. Air hissed from between his clenched teeth and warmth flooded Dimitri’s ass soon after.

Dimitri lifted his hips, forcing Byleth deeper so that he could collect every drop of his cum. Once his climax over, Byleth fell on top of Dimitri with a groan. They lay together on the carriage seat, trying to catch their breath, both of their minds wiped clean.

Clarity gradually returned to Dimitri’s mind as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He was shocked by his own behaviour. Here he was, naked in the royal carriage after losing his virginity to a gorgeous, sweaty stranger that he met only a few hours prior. It was reckless. But when he felt Byleth’s warm cum dribbling out of his asshole, he decided the risk had been worth the reward.

Byleth sat up. He looked around the interior of the carriage and found the clothes that they’d flung about like a tornado. He gathered them up and dumped them on Dimitri’s face.

“Put them on,” he said, his tone returning to its usual flatness. He turned to pull on his shirt, and Dimitri was horrified when he saw claw marks on his back, blood seeping from the shallow gouges. When he looked down at his hands, he saw red under his fingernails. He’d been so lost in their coupling that he’d forgotten his own strength.

If it bothered Byleth, he showed no sign of it. His face was perfectly neutral even when he bent over to put his boots on.

Once they were fully dressed, they exited the carriage, entering the frigid night. Dimitri lingered, unsure about how to proceed now that their passion had passed its zenith. A heavy feeling sat in his chest.

“I should head back inside. My friend will be wondering where I am,” Dimitri said forlornly. He turned to leave, but Byleth grabbed his hand.

“Tell me your name,” he said.

“Oh! Um…my name is Dimitri.”

Byleth drew close and kissed his cheek. “Nice to meet you, Dimitri. I hope I see you again,” he murmured softly, then he walked away, back into the warmth of the inn.

Dimitri stood in stunned silence, touching the cheek that Byleth kissed. It was that velvety voice again. When he spoke directly into his ear, it made him weak at the knees.

The crunch of boots on snow echoed in the distance. The noise grew louder as Dedue emerged from the darkness and hurried to Dimitri’s side.

“There you are, Your Highness! Where have you been?” he asked, clearly exasperated.

“Just on a walk,” Dimitri replied dreamily, his head still in the clouds.

Dimitri didn’t hear a single word of Dedue’s well-meaning lecture on the way back to their rooms. Instead of going to bed like Dedue, he sat by the window. He was used to sleepless nights, but he wasn’t used to being kept up by the memory of something pleasant.

All his thoughts were consumed by the strange mercenary he met. The most important thing he had learned tonight was his name. Byleth. He had seemed so calm on the outside, but when Dimitri touched him, his passion rose to the surface.

The sun rose, and Dimitri was still sitting by the window, deep in thought. He watched Jeralt’s mercenaries gather in the courtyard, refreshed from their night in a warm bed. Dimitri’s eyes were fixed on Byleth as he and his father mounted up and led their group toward the muddy road.

Horse riding suited Byleth. His black stallion navigated the terrain with quiet confidence, mirroring its rider. It suddenly occurred to Dimitri that long hours spent riding horses had contributed to Byleth’s muscular thighs. He blushed at the thought, the memory of straddling his lap crystal clear in his mind.

Dimitri thought that their one-night stand at the inn was the end of it. That he’d had a night of passion with a man that he’d never see again, and that night would live forever enshrined in his memories. A few months later, he was proven wrong.

The strange twist of fate occurred not long after he had moved to Garreg Mach to attend the Officer’s Academy. The training exercise he and his fellow students had been sent on went awry, and they were attacked by bandits. When they fled to a nearby village and came across a band of mercenaries, the house leaders decided to go and plead their case.

A ray of hope shone in Dimitri’s heart when he saw that it was Jeralt’s band of mercenaries that they had run into. He prayed silently. And then the man he longed for walked into their midst. Byleth. Just as handsome as he remembered.

The mercenaries leapt into action with Byleth at the helm. He was even more of a skilled swordsman than his test of Dimitri’s sword suggested, and the gap between their abilities left Dimitri breathless. He was embarrassed that he had challenged Byleth to a duel with so little awareness of his power.

Once they had been neutralised the threat together, there was only one thing on Dimitri’s mind. Did Byleth remember him?

He would learn the answer to that question the following day. Both students and mercenaries alike assembled in the main square of the village, and they set off towards Garreg Mach with Jeralt at the helm.

Dimitri’s mood soured as they marched through the forest. He wanted to talk to Byleth, if only for a second, but his fellow students were jostling each other in order to get a look at the mysterious mercenary that saved Edelgard’s life, so much so that he was forced out of the picture.

Even his fellow house leaders vied for a position next to Byleth, coming up with any excuse they could to monopolise his attention. Dimitri clenched his fists, his blood threatening to boil over when they smiled at Byleth. They were standing too close to him, showing too much interest.

Dimitri averted his eyes for a time to calm himself down. When he looked up, Byleth was no longer out in front. His pace had slowed. He was lagging, walking at the rear of the party.

Concerned, Dimitri dropped back. He fell into step with Byleth.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“You never told me you were a prince,” Byleth said, a small smile hovering around his lips.

Dimitri’s heart fluttered. So he did remember him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest with you, but when people know that I’m a royal, they treat me differently,” Dimitri said in an apologetic tone. “I wanted you to treat me like anyone else.”

“Your status matters little. I would have fucked you regardless,” Byleth said plainly.

“Shh!” Dimitri said, frantically putting his finger to Byleth’s lips before he could say another filthy word. “Lower your voice. What if someone hears you?”

Byleth casually pushed his hand aside. “Tell me something,” he said, ignoring Dimitri’s distress.

“What do you want to know?” Dimitri replied warily.

Byleth leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Tonight. Your room, or mine?”

Dimitri’s breath caught in his chest. Byleth’s brazen question had set his heart racing. He took a moment to regain his composure and keep his voice level, and then he replied, “Does it matter? You’ll fuck me regardless.”