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Summary:

Only when Dimitri seems to notice her in turn – his eyes always lingering and his smiles turning softer at the edges – does Byleth realise it might not just be her who has changed.

Notes:

this was written for a wonderful request I received in the dimileth winter exchange! I really, really didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, but in my defense, the prompt I was given included the tags 'Dimitri is Byleth's babygirl' AND 'Dimitri has a big dick', so. you know. maybe I went a little crazy.

also, please note the tags before reading! if you don't like pre-TS dimileth or pre-TS relationships in general, this probably won't be for you.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

There’s something different about Dimitri.

Byleth notices it for the first time at the very end of the Blue Sea Moon, right as the summer heat begins to turn syrupy. At first, she thinks it may very well be the way the warmth seems to stick to everything, making each day halcyon-bright and shimmery. It’s becoming easier to laugh and smile as the months go on, and Byleth feels content in a way she’s never quite experienced before. It’s a new sensation, and it’s heady enough for Byleth to find herself convinced that the way Dimitri suddenly appeals so intensely to her is hardly more than a symptom of the warm cradle of summer and her newfound appreciation for - well, feeling things.

Only when Dimitri seems to notice her in turn – his eyes always lingering and his smiles turning softer at the edges – does Byleth realise it might not just be her who has changed.

It grows from there, blooming in the same way petals burst from a flower, turning into a feeling so vibrant and strong Byleth daren’t consider all the ways their relationship has changed. Thinking too hard about it all makes her feel – embarrassed, she supposes. She isn’t all that used to emotions in the first place, so attempting to name what she’s feeling is nearly impossible.

Still, things have changed. It might be in the way he meets her eyes now, with his cheeks always flushed and his eyes a little darker than usual. It might be in the way he holds himself around her, his fists clenched and his shoulders tensed, moving in close just to flinch away when Byleth tries to match him, to close to space between them further. It might be in how they’re constantly brushing past one another, always close but never quite close enough. Regardless of what it is, each slight thing is maddening, but Byleth doesn’t think too hard about it. Won’t think too hard about it. After all – she’s changed, too.

Of course, it’s impossible to avoid thinking about it when Dimitri is always there, staying after class to ask her questions and finding her in the cool evening air by the pond most nights. He fights near her whenever they go out to battle, trains with her, invites her to dinner, stumbles upon her in the kitchens or the greenhouse far too often for it to be a coincidence. It’s as though they’re orbiting one another, circling over and over until Byleth feels dizzy with it.

And she realises it has to come to a head at some point. Even her control feels as though it’s about to slip sometimes, and she daren’t think about whether it may be the same for Dimitri. But – it can’t. She is his teacher, and he is her student, and she is little more than a sellsword outside of the walls of the monastery. He is royalty, a few short steps away from a crown and a kingdom. It’s inappropriate. It can’t happen, no matter what.


It can’t happen – until it does.

Unsurprisingly, it turns out that training is the catalyst. Training, where Byleth has to put her hands on Dimitri, shifting him by the shoulders or with a hand on his waist to correct his posture, slipping her slim fingers around his wrist and hands to make sure his grasp on his lance or his sword isn’t too tight or too loose. Even through his clothing, it tends to make Byleth feel the way she does when she has someone pinned beneath the tip of her sword, bright-hot with adrenaline.

While the summer has faded into autumn, the hazy heat still lingers well into the Horsebow Moon, and it seems to make everything feel sharper. The feeling that lingers between herself and Dimitri only grows more familiar, crystallising into something that feels too fragile to touch. Byleth feels it like a tether each time they train, and Dimitri must, too, because the pile of broken lances that have made their home in the corner of the training grounds only seems to grow larger by the day.

“That’s enough, Dimitri,” Byleth says on one warm Monday morning, watching Dimitri glance down at one piece of the lance he’d just broken with a carefully neutral expression. She’d slipped her fingers against his palm earlier while she’d maneuvred him into a better position for blocking, and he’d been flushed and clumsy since. “Good effort.”

Dimitri glances at her with a furrow between his brows. “Professor,” he says, and she can already hear the suggestion of a disagreement in his voice, no matter how politely he speaks. “I can do better, I promise you.”

“I know,” Byleth says, because it’s easier than saying yes, but everyone is watching us and I can’t touch you again, Dimitri, or I very well might do something stupid. “But we can practice more tomorrow. You’re already doing very well.”

Dimitri opens his mouth, clearly ready to argue his point more, but Felix scoffs before he has an opportunity to speak. “Only managing to break one less weapon than yesterday doesn’t mean the boar is doing well.

Byleth waves a hand in Felix’s direction. She understands why he’s beginning to grow frustrated – the heat seems to make him hungrier for a fight, and she knows how impatient he is anyway – but Dimitri’s expression is already falling, and he watches Byleth expectantly. “He is right, Professor.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Byleth feels like she’s setting a trap for herself by asking, but – Dimitri has sense. Surely he’ll give up as he thinks more about what he’s saying, will realise what he’s getting himself into, will –

“Perhaps private training would be for the best,” he says instead, in that terribly solemn tone that has Byleth softening like butter in seconds. “I feel as though I’ve taken up enough of your time in class, after all.”

Byleth has to swallow before she can answer. “Private training sounds fine,” she says. “Tonight, then.” Before Dimitri can respond, she turns her head and wills her warm cheeks to cool. “Felix, you’re up.”


Byleth spends the rest of the day in a strange state of tension, just as excited as she is anxious to meet with Dimitri. She avoids him as best she can for the rest of the day just to try and soothe her nerves, but even missing his usual lingering glances does nothing to calm her. By the time the evening settles over the monastery, bathing everything in warm tones of gold and pink, she feels as though she might buzz straight out of her skin.

Still, she won’t let Dimitri realise it. She heads to the training grounds early and settles on sharpening her sword, or clearing the broken lances, or on anything that will quiet her mind with the peace of monotony. It just about works, right until Dimitri steps through the door and shatters it with one look.

“Professor,” he says, smiling in greeting. Byleth just watches him from across the grounds, nodding her head slightly. “Thank you for giving up your evening for me. I appreciate it more than you realise.”

“It’s fine,” Byleth says. “I’ve prepared you a lance. It’s iron, this time. Hopefully, it’ll last longer than the training ones.”

Byleth regrets saying that, if only because the quiet look of embarrassment that crosses Dimitri’s face is really quite sweet. “Thank you, Professor,” he says again, moving quickly across the grounds to take the lance Byleth had settled against one of the pillars for him. She looks back to her own sword before she can focus too hard on the way his fingers curl around the shaft of it. “Well, then – I’m ready when you are.”

It takes another long moment of needless fussing with the blade of her sword for Byleth to be able to face Dimitri, and it still doesn’t feel like enough time. He’s so handsome in the low light of the training grounds, his hair falling into his eyes as he watches her. Byleth feels her palms sweating as she moves to stand opposite him, and when she nods at him, she feels wooden and stiff.

“Try and block me,” she says, just a moment before she lunges at Dimitri.

He reacts perfectly despite Byleth having the element of surprise, but Byleth is still greeted with the sight of his wide, surprised eyes. It morphs quickly into a quietly pleased look as he pushes Byleth away, though, and when Byleth easily dodges him as he presses into her space, looking for any opportunity he can to strike at her, his look of pleasure quickly turns into open laughter.

It’s this that Byleth loves; their easy push-and-pull, how impossibly easy it is to read him. They fight with such synchronicity it’s impossible to not enjoy it, and before long, Byleth can feel herself slipping into it fully, allowing her body to take over as she swipes and blocks and side-steps, moving so easily that it’s like the two of them are dancing. Even when they take brief breaks – long enough for Byleth to catch her breath and for Dimitri to pull off his cape, to unbutton his uniform with long, dexterous fingers – the spark between them never quite seems to dim.

It feels like hours have passed by the time Byleth finally manages to actually get ahead of Dimitri. Like this, without her hands on him to distract him, he’s so strong that Byleth genuinely has to try to beat him. And – sure, she might not have to try all that hard, but it’s a pleasant challenge regardless.

Perhaps that’s what lets her get a little too confident in her abilities – the easy, mindless pleasure of genuine competition. Perhaps the reason she forgets herself is because of the easy way she moves with Dimitri; perhaps it has nothing at all to do with the way he pushes his hair back from his face or the way he grins at her from over her sword. Perhaps.

Regardless, it feels like it happens in slow motion when she finally gets Dimitri beneath the tip of her sword. It takes only a well-timed swipe of her sword to have the lance slipping from his hands, landing with a thump on the floor between them; it takes even less for Byleth to tilt Dimitri’s head back with the edge of her sword, settling gently against the line of his throat.

“Very good,” Byleth says thoughtlessly, still mesmerised by the way his throat bobs against the line of her sword. “You did well, Dimitri. I knew you could do it.”

Only when Byleth glances up towards his face does she realise how red Dimitri has turned. “Professor,” he says, his voice a little strangled. Byleth can’t quite tamp down the way it makes her smile, and his ears grow impossibly redder. “I – well. I don’t think I’m so deserving of such praise.”

“Of course you are,” Byleth says. Dimitri clears his throat and glances away. “Shall we go again?”

“Please,” Dimitri says, not quite looking at her. His face is still pink. “Though, ah – allow me–”

It happens all at once; Dimitri bends for his lance right as Byleth moves to twirl her sword back to her side, and somehow, the line of his jaw collides with the hilt of her sword so hard that Byleth feels it reverberate all the way through her arm.

Dimitri only makes a quiet noise of pain, but he goes down with such a thump that Byleth can’t help the noise of concern that escapes her. “Dimitri,” she says, breathless with worry. “I – are you alright?”

His voice is muffled by the way he’s moved his hands to cradle his face, his eyes half-closed in pain. “I’m – yes, I’m – fine.”

“I’m not certain you are,” Byleth says, dropping her sword beside her. She’s on her knees before she can stop herself, pressing herself to Dimitri’s side and slipping her hands around the broad expanse of his wrists. “Here, let me–”

All at once, Dimitri goes easily, settling down so quickly Byleth can’t help her surprise. She pulls his hands easily from his face, her thumbs soft against the meat of his palm, and though Dimitri keeps his eyes closed, she can see the way his breath hitches. All of a sudden, it hits Byleth – she has Dimitri beside her, beneath her, loose and open to whatever she’d like.

It’s a little hard to breathe through that revelation, never mind to press her cool fingers to Dimitri’s jawline. It only becomes harder when Byleth realises that the exertion of training had left the buttons to his shirt undone, and the glow of sweat along his throat makes her fingers shake as she tilts his head back.

At the very least, there doesn’t seem to be any real damage. “Not even a bruise,” Byleth says, her voice a murmur. “Does it hurt?”

Dimitri shakes his head mutely, his lips parting as Byleth drags her thumb across his jaw. “No,” he manages a moment later, his voice just as low as Byleth’s. 

“Good,” Byleth says. She should let go of him – she should stand up, move away, pull herself together. Instead, she finds herself with her hand still settled against his face, watching him as he finally blinks up at her. His eyes find hers for a moment before his lashes flutter, his eyes glancing lower, and she realises with a hot, bright jolt that – he’s staring at her mouth. “Dimitri–”

She doesn’t know what she was going to say, but it doesn’t matter – before she can say it, Dimitri is pressing himself up, one of his own hands reaching out to settle gently against the back of her neck. And it happens so slowly, Byleth feels as though she’s frozen as Dimitri leans in, still watching her mouth, and carefully presses his lips to hers.

For a moment, Byleth can’t move. It’s like her mind goes entirely still, more silent than it’s even been in her life; then, Dimitri tilts his head, clearly uncertain, and something in Byleth snaps. She leans in and kisses him back, her mouth dragging softly against his, and Dimitri sighs against her. In response, she tilts his head a little more with her fingers against his jaw and swallows the quiet noise he makes.

In turn, Dimitri’s hand tightens a little on the back of her neck – just enough to be a firm, solid pressure – and Byleth lets him reel her in as close as he’d like, pulling her in close until they’re chest to chest. It seems easy, then, to press in closer, to slip a leg between his and to tilt her head further into the kiss. It is easy – easier than Byleth had ever thought it could be.

“Professor,” Dimitri gasps, his mouth brushing hers. Byleth says nothing, shifting against his lap, her fingers dragging down his jaw to creep beneath the open buttons of his shirt. Under her, she feels him twitching against her thigh, his fingers dragging against the soft baby hairs at her scalp. “Prof– Byleth.”

The sound of her name on his lips has Byleth gasping a little, rocking back into him before she can think any better of it. For one solid moment, she gets to feel the way Dimitri groans beneath her fingertips, his fingers flexing in her hair. Then, he seems to gasp, going still.

“Byleth,” he says again; this time, though, there’s a tension in his voice that wasn't there before. “Professor.”

Byleth hums, but the tone of his voice has her pulling back slightly, planting one hand on the ground to steady herself. Dimitri is watching her with big eyes and a pink mouth, and there’s nothing more Byleth wants to do than lean back in.

But before she can consider it any further, though, Dimitri is swallowing hard and moving his hands to her shoulders. Slowly, carefully, he presses her back until she’s sitting up with her legs slotted between his. Byleth blinks down at him in confusion, her lips tingling. “Dimitri,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry, Professor,” Dimitri says, about as grave as Byleth has ever heard him. He shakes his head, pressing himself from between her legs in one quick, jerky motion. “I cannot believe I could be so – so rash.”

“Sorry?” Byleth says. Her thoughts are still moving like syrup through her mind, too slow to make any real sense of; still, from the stricken look on Dimitri’s face, she can tell something has gone wrong. “Dimitri, what–”

“We shouldn’t do this, Professor,” Dimitri says. For a moment, he settles himself onto his knees, lingering as though he wants to say more; after a pause, though, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Before Byleth can think of anything to say – are you okay, what happened, is it something I did – Dimitri is pulling himself from the ground. He doesn’t look at her as he reaches for the few items of clothing he’d taken off while sparring, and he walks to the doors to the training ground with an awkward, fast gait, as though he isn’t certain as to whether he should leave or stay. Only when he reaches the doors does he turn in one jerky motion, looking back at Byleth.

“This was my fault,” Dimitri tells her, his voice a little desperate. Byleth moves to push herself up, and Dimitri watches her rise with a furrow to his brow. “I should never have done that – not with you. I’m – it was a moment of weakness, Professor. It won’t happen again.”

Byleth opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, Dimitri is pressing the doors open and leaving Byleth alone.


Much to Byleth’s chagrin, Dimitri gives her plenty of space to think about what he’d said. Too much space, in fact.

He avoids her as best he can for the rest of the week. He won’t look at her in lessons, eats only when he’s certain she has already seated herself, keeps himself to his room instead of roaming the monastery. Even in training, he takes the brunt of Felix’s frustrations instead of partnering with Byleth, keeping his eyes low whenever she passes.

It is – infuriating, Byleth thinks. She’s turned his words over in her mind a thousand times, but whatever meaning is supposed to be taken from it escapes her each and every time. She’s entirely lost, and Dimitri seems completely set on keeping it that way.

More than that, though, is that it hurts. It’s a tender bruise of a feeling, one Byleth isn’t used to, and while she tries her hardest not to prod at it, it feels impossible to avoid the ache each time Dimitri avoids her eyes or brushes past her silently.

Still – Dimitri must be far more foolish than Byleth had ever realised if he thinks she’ll allow his behaviour to continue. Beyond her bruised ego, it isn’t exactly as though he’s being subtle about his sudden disinterest in her, and if Byleth has to deal with one more quip about hey, did something happen between you and Dimitri, Professor? Trouble in paradise, maybe? from Sylvain, she may very well snap.

Luckily for her, Byleth is very good at locating even people who don’t want to be found. It takes a little nudging from Annette to learn that he’s been hiding away in the library over the past few evenings, lingering until late at night; it takes even less to convince Dedue to leave Dimitri alone for the evening, and he gives her a meaningful look as he agrees.

Byleth sets out to look for Dimitri just after sunset, making her way silently through the monastery grounds. As she’d expected, she finds him in the quiet of the library. It’s so late that even the usual lurkers have gone to bed, and he sits alone, the glow of a half-burned candle lighting him in gold.

“Dimitri,” Byleth says. Her voice is quiet even in the silence of the library, but Dimitri flinches so hard at the sound of her voice that the quill in his hand snaps cleanly in half; Byleth watches as he scrambles to move it aside, glancing up at her with a look of shock on his face. “A word, please.”

Dimitri blinks, his face turning pale. “Pro– ah, Professor,” he says, staring. After a moment, though, common sense seems to kick in, and he stands in a slightly awkward movement, his chair scraping against the floor. “You – is there an issue? It’s very late. Ah – if so, I can find Dedue to–”

“That won’t be necessary,” Byleth interrupts. Despite Dimitri’s pale face, his ears are terribly pink from beneath his hair. “This is a conversation best had between you and me alone, I think.”

“Right.” Dimitri swallows hard, and Byleth notices that the high collar of his shirt has been undone just the slightest amount. The sliver of pale skin she can see shouldn’t be so distracting, but she couldn’t pull her eyes from it if she tried. “Of course. Um – so, how can I help?”

For a moment, Byleth is strangely stumped. Despite her worrying, it feels as though she didn’t think quite this far ahead, and the sudden question of how to answer him seems far too large to handle.

“We need to speak about what happened,” Byleth finally says. Her voice sounds stilted even to her own ears. “During our training. You… you’re a lot more obvious than you think you are. I can tell you’re unhappy.”

Somehow, Dimitri turns even paler. “We – what happened,” he repeats, his voice a little hoarse. “Professor, I–”

“I understand it may have been a mistake,” Byleth continues. The words don’t feel right even as they leave her mouth, but it feels like if she doesn’t speak now, she never will. “But you can’t keep avoiding me, Dimitri. We work together too closely, and Sylvain is really beginning to get on my–”

Suddenly, Dimitri interrupts her, his voice quiet. “A mistake?”

Byleth blinks, her mouth falling closed. The way Dimitri is looking at her, with his brows furrowed and something like hurt settling in the line of his eyes, wipes the words straight from her mind. “Is that… not what it was?” Against all of Byleth’s expectations, he shakes his head. “Well. That’s what you implied, Dimitri.”

For one long moment, Dimitri doesn’t seem to know how to respond. A dozen different emotions cross his face all at once – hurt and resignation and, finally, something that seems like exasperation. “I realise that I have acted inappropriately,” he says, and while his voice is careful, there’s a note to it that Byleth has never heard before. “And I understand I may very well be taking advantage of your kindness, but – Professor, I… I cannot bring myself to call it a – a mistake. I very much wanted it.”

Byleth watches the way Dimitri’s throat bobs as he swallows in stunned, numb silence, the words trickling through her mind like water seeping through soil. It takes slowly, each word lingering: may be inappropriate – taking advantage – cannot bring myself to call it a –

“I’m not certain I understand,” Byleth says, still watching the nervous movement of Dimitri’s throat. She thinks about all the times before, and how desperately she’d always wanted to put her mouth on that smooth, pale stretch of skin. Somehow, now, it doesn’t seem quite as wrong to want it so badly. “But I… I don’t see it as a mistake, either.”

For a moment, then, it’s so quiet between the two of them that the silence feels like something Byleth could reach out and touch. Dimitri is looking at her properly, now, his eyes wide as he glances over her features, his hands still clenched tight at his sides. “Professor,” he finally says, his voice a murmur, so tender it makes Byleth feel as though she might crumble. “Do you – do you mean that?”

“Yes,” Byleth says. “Yes. But I… well. Do you mean it?”

Dimitri frowns. “Of course, Professor,” he says. “I wouldn’t – I couldn’t lie to you.”

Byleth nods. “I thought,” she says, carefully. “That – it was because of me. I felt as though I’d taken advantage of you, or that – you didn’t want me. The way you ran – I still don’t understand what you meant, Dimitri.”

“You thought I didn’t want you,” Dimitri repeats, disbelieving. He steps in closer, his hand reaching towards Byleth; a moment later, though, he seems to think better of it, and it falls back to his side. “That – no, Professor. Never. I – I have wanted you for longer than you know.” He shakes his head, huffing a sardonic little laugh. “You have never taken advantage of me, either. If anything, Professor, I’m the one who has acted inappropriately. I all but forced you into kissing me.”

“You didn’t force me to kiss you,” Byleth says. The thought of it is so absurd it makes Byleth want to laugh. “Of course you didn’t, Dimitri. I wanted to. But – that’s the issue. I’m your teacher. Before that, I’m a mercenary. There’s a lot of distance between us.”

“Then we will close it,” Dimitri says. This time, when his hand raises to touch her, he follows through. When it comes to settle against her shoulder, Byleth leans into it unreservedly, and Dimitri’s eyes seem to glimmer as he watches her. “If you’d like that, of course.”

Byleth huffs a laugh. “Will you go running the next time I get too close?” she asks. Dimitri’s expression falls into something guilty and sweet, and Byleth can’t help but smile. “Or will there be more cryptic riddles for me to try and work out?”

“I really am sorry about that,” Dimitri says, so earnest it makes Byleth laugh. “No, Professor – sincerely, I am. I just – I was so ashamed of myself, forcing you down like that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Byleth steps in a bit closer. “There was no forcing,” she says. “Don’t make me repeat that again.”

Dimitri blinks down at her, looking chagrined. “Oh, I – yes, Professor.”

“If you feel so guilty about it, though,” Byleth continues, taking another step into Dimitri’s space. He watches her with wide eyes, and when his mouth parts a little, Byleth can’t help but look. “You can make it up to me with a do-over.”

“A do-over,” Dimitri repeats. He already sounds breathless. “You – are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t have chased you down if I wasn’t,” Byleth tells him. The flush that blooms across his face in response is more than worth it. “Will you kiss me, Dimitri?”

Dimitri’s chest heaves for a moment, and he stares at Byleth as though he can’t quite believe she’s there, in front of him, asking him such a thing. “Yes,” he finally says, his voice a little choked. “Yes, I – of course.”

This time, when Dimitri steps in and presses down into Byleth’s space, Byleth meets him halfway with a hand against the back of his neck. Dimitri makes a quiet, surprised noise, as though he didn’t entirely expect her to be so eager for it, and it makes Byleth smile as she leans up to press her mouth to his jawline.

It’s easy, then, for Dimitri to settle his own hands against Byleth’s face, to tilt his head just enough so that her lips slide to his. It feels just as good as it did the first time, too; Dimitri kisses her so sweetly, and each drag of their mouths winds him up so tightly until he’s panting with it.

Byleth doesn’t let up, though; she kisses him until he moves a hand to her hair, holding her gently in place, and when she digs her teeth lightly into his lower lip, she’s rewarded with the first little noise from him – a low groan, straight from his throat.

“Professor,” Dimitri murmurs. When Byleth scratches her fingernails against the back of his neck in response, he shivers all over. “Please.”

Byleth hums. “What do you want?” Dimitri bites back another groan, and one hand slips from her face to settle carefully, uncertainly, at her waist. Like this, Dimitri reels her in a little closer, pulling her until they’re almost flat against one another. Byleth can feel him against her belly, twitching to hardness. “Oh. I – last time, I thought–”

“I want you very much,” Dimitri interrupts. Byleth can’t help the way she shivers at that, and Dimitri’s hand grows firmer against her waist. “In any way you’ll have me. Last time – well, I’m afraid I might not have made that so obvious.”

“I’ll have you in any way you want,” Byleth tells him, leaning back in to press her mouth back to his. He twitches at that, hard enough that Byleth feels it fully against her stomach, and groans into her mouth when she drags her tongue over his lower lip. And – suddenly, Byleth feels desperate for it. As much as she wants to keep him here, kissing him silly, the privacy of her bedroom is far more alluring than the risk of being caught. “Dimitri – my room, we should – do you want to?”

Dimitri groans into her mouth, his hands tight against her waist. It makes Byleth feel – small against him, almost, which is ridiculous and senseless and so appealing it makes her head spin. “Alright,” he pants, though he makes no move at all to step away. “Goodness, I…”

“I know,” Byleth says, her mouth quirking into a smile. “We’ll be quick.”

‘Quick’ ends up being a mad dash across the monastery grounds, with Dimitri’s hand in hers and the inexplicable urge to laugh building in her chest. She feels giddy with it, as light as a feather as she rounds the corner to her room and pulls Dimitri with her. He crowds in behind her as she scrambles to find the key in her pocket, and the warm, steady weight of him against her leaves her hands unsteady as she tries to fit it into the lock. 

“Should I–” Dimitri tries, his mouth close to her ear and his hand reaching for her wrist; before he can distract Byleth any further, though, the door finally clicks open. 

For one long, slow moment, Byleth feels a little as though she’s suspended in time. She can feel the way Dimitri’s breath hitches as she slowly pushes open the door to her room, and it feels – final. As though they’re stepping from an incline they’ll never be able to pull themselves back up again.

Byleth glances over her shoulder. When she meets eyes with Dimitri, he’s already watching her. “Do you still want to?”

Dimitri’s answer is so immediate it almost surprises her. “Yes,” he says, with so much conviction in his voice Byleth can’t help but smile. “If – if you’re willing, Professor.”

“Well, I didn’t drag you all the way here for tea,” Byleth says. “Come in, before it gets cold.”

At that, Dimitri flushes wonderfully, his cheeks bright. “Of course,” he says breathlessly, following Byleth so closely that she can still feel the warmth of him against her back even as she steps into the dimness of her bedroom. He only moves when she turns to close the door behind them, and Byleth finds herself missing the weight of him so quickly it almost startles her.

For a moment, Byleth lingers by the doors, tracing over the lock and the detailing around the handle. That feeling of trepidation is back, and the fear of not knowing what will happen when she turns to face him makes her feel frozen. When she glances over her shoulder, though, she finds Dimitri already watching her from an arm’s length away, his expression open and warm.

The moment their eyes meet, they gravitate towards one another. Byleth can feel the way Dimitri’s eyes move to her mouth as she turns to face him properly, and she’s moving in before she can even think about it, reaching a hand out for Dimitri that he takes easily.

“I should say,” Dimitri says, pulling her in gently. His hands come to settle on either side of her face, big and warm and pleasantly calloused. “I… This is not something I’m familiar with.”

“That’s fine,” Byleth says, tilting her head into his hands. Dimitri traces his thumb over her cheekbone, so gentle it makes her shiver. “I can show you.”

Dimitri inhales sharply at that, his eyebrows raising. “Oh,” he says, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “That’s – well. I would like that.”

“Good,” Byleth says, leaning in a little closer. Dimitri dips to meet her without a word, the tip of his nose brushing hers. “I don’t think I have to teach you to kiss me, do I?”

Dimitri breathes a laugh, so close that Byleth can feel his mouth brush hers as he speaks. “I wouldn’t think so,” he says. He’s teasing her, she thinks, never moving in close enough to let her settle her mouth against his. It’s surprisingly appealing, and Byleth can feel the way she’s softening up for him, a slight cradle of heat settling in the very pit of her stomach. “But now we’re alone – well. Professor, I – there’s a chance I may lose myself a little.”

“Please do,” Byleth says, and reaches up to close the gap between them.

This time, Dimitri’s reaction is instantaneous; though he’s still quieter than Byleth would like, he groans against her mouth as she kisses him again, dragging her in close. He seems emboldened this time, his hands slipping down to her waist and keeping her where he wants her as he kisses her, tilting her head back a little with the force of his kisses.

Byleth realises vaguely that they’re moving, Dimitri shifting her gently across the length of the room, but she pays little attention to it until, after a moment, she feels a solid, cool weight against her back. Only when she draws back slightly, panting, does she realise they’re against the chest of drawers that sit beside her desk.

When she glances back up at Dimitri, he’s already watching her, his pupils blown wide and his mouth a pretty pink. “What’s your plan here?”

Dimitri flushes, watching her from beneath his lashes. “Would you – I thought it might be easier if you were sitting atop something. The bed felt a little – presumptuous, so…”

Byleth bites back a laugh at that. “Sure,” she says, planting her hands on either side of the thick wood behind her. Before she can move to lift herself, though, Dimitri is reaching beneath her to pull her up onto it, his hands warm and big against the bottoms of her thighs. “Oh,” she says, flustered. “Thank you.”

Dimitri nods, clearly distracted. Byleth knows why – after all, she’s spread out atop the drawers, her legs open wide against Dimitri’s hips. Even as he looks at her as though he’s worried to be caught doing it, his expression is open and hungry. He glances up at her, flustered, and Byleth can’t resist him any longer; she pulls him back in gently, slipping her hands into his hair as he leans against her.

He’s a quick learner, Dimitri realises; this time, when she traces the tip of her tongue against the flush of his lower lip, he opens up for her, letting her lick into his mouth. It seems to escalate from there; the next time they split apart, mouths flushed and tingling, Byleth finds herself on her back with Dimitri snug between her legs, pressed right to where she’s wet through her shorts, his hands impossibly tight on the curve of her hips.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri says, completely breathless. Byleth glances from his hips back to his face, frowning at how genuinely troubled he looks. “I fear I lost myself there.”

“That’s okay,” Byleth says, stroking a thumb over the shell of one of Dimitri’s flushed ears. “I like this.” She rolls her hips a little and Dimitri turns impossibly pink, his mouth falling open. “Yes?”

“Yes, okay,” Dimitri says, sounding strangled. His hands flex on her hips again, and he glances between them, his eyes lingering on the laces of her shorts. “I, ah…”

Byleth glances between them, following the line of his eyes, and – ah. After a moment of deliberation, she looks back at his face. “You can take them off.”

His fingers flex again, and Dimitri looks up, shell-shocked. “I – can?”

“Please,” Byleth says. “The tights, too.”

For a moment, Dimitri freezes. “All – all of it?”

Byleth nods, smiling. Surprisingly, it seems to be all the encouragement Dimitri needs. His fingers tremble as he moves them to the laces of her shorts; Byleth thinks she hears a string snap as he undoes them, but she pays it no mind.

Dimitri hesitates once the shorts are undone, glancing back up at her; Byleth just wiggles her hips, the implication obvious. Dimitri breathes in shakily, nods, and hooks his fingers beneath the fabric of her shorts and tights. He pulls them down her thighs slowly, as though he can’t quite believe he’s really doing it. Byleth can barely breathe through it, even as Dimitri breathes a laugh as he ducks out from beneath her legs to take them fully off.

Only when he settles back between her legs does Dimitri speak again. “You…” he says, his eyes glancing over her legs, the skin of her exposed tummy, the space between her thighs. “Goodness, Byleth. You’re like a dream.”

Byleth smiles. “Thank you,” she says, wriggling a little closer to Dimitri. The wood beneath her is cool, but he’s so warm. Dimitri flushes when he catches sight of her hips pressed to his, and the hand that had been tracing mindless patterns over the bare skin of her thighs suddenly comes to a stop. “You next?”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “I – certainly.”

He moves his hands to his belt slowly, watching her as though she might suddenly change her mind. She stares back, her gaze level, and after a moment, Dimitri nods. Byleth can feel her blood thrumming in her veins as she watches Dimitri, so wet she’s beginning to feel it through her underwear. It feels like an age passes as Dimitri undoes his belt and unbuttons his trousers. Byleth is white-knuckling the edges of the drawers by the time he finally slips his hand beneath the fabric, and the way he jolts as he touches himself has her exhaling one long, shaky breath.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Dimitri says suddenly. When Byleth looks at him, he’s entirely pink in the face, watching her from beneath his long lashes. “I’m…”

He’s nervous , Byleth thinks. A wave of affection washes over her, and she tilts her head slightly. “It’s okay,” she says. She’s not the best at speaking gently, but it seems to work on Dimitri all the same. The tension to his shoulders sags, just for a moment; when she draws one hand between her legs, though, the tension reappears. “You’re gorgeous, Dimitri. Shall I show you what you’ve done to me?”

Dimitri looks between her hand and her face with wide eyes, and his mouth moves wordlessly before he eventually speaks. “Show me?” he asks. He sounds – hopeful, almost, as though he can’t quite believe what Byleth is suggesting.

“Mmm,” Byleth says, drawing her fingertips over her underwear. The fabric is damp, and she can feel how hot she is as she touches herself, sensitive and a little swollen with how much she wants it. Dimitri’s throat clicks as he swallows, watching her with his wrist moving gently beneath the fabric of his trousers.

Byleth takes it slow as she touches herself over her underwear, drawing her fingers loosely over her clit until her hips are twitching with it. She waits until Dimitri looks less uncertain, until he can’t seem to look away from where her hand is moving between her thighs; only then does she move over slightly, hooking her fingers in her underwear.

When she moves her fingers and pulls her underwear to the side, Dimitri’s reaction is immediate. His jaw clenches a little, his mouth falling open in a pretty pink o. He breathes in a deep, shaky breath, his arm twitching as though he wants to reach out and touch.

“See,” Byleth murmurs. She wriggles her hips a little to make sure her underwear stays in place and moves her hand back so she can touch herself, keeping her fingers gentle. She’s so wet that at first, the glide of her fingers is so smooth it feels like nothing. “Oh. I’m so wet.”

Byleth,” Dimitri says, his voice choking off when Byleth dips her fingers down to circle at her entrance. “You’re so–”

“I know,” Byleth says. “For you.”

The noise that leaves Dimitri in response is strained, but he leans in regardless, his hand trembling slightly on Byleth’s hip. She meets him halfway for another kiss – surprisingly soft, considering the way she can feel his free hand moving inside his trousers against one of her thighs – and brushes one hand through his hair, soft and loose around his face.

“Byleth,” Dimitri murmurs into the kiss. When she hums, breathless as she presses two fingers into herself, his hips jump against his hand. “I – want you, very much. Can I – can I show you?”

“Please,” Byleth says, clenching around her own fingers at the thought of finally seeing him. Dimitri groans, nodding as he kisses her once, twice, three times more before he pulls away. There’s a moment of hesitation, then, where Dimitri almost doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself; then, watching Byleth touch herself, he presses his trousers further down until they’re at mid-thigh.

That isn’t what Byleth notices, though. Dimitri holds himself in one hand, straining as he touches himself. His cock is – pretty, almost, and the pink flushed head peeks from between his fingers as his hips rock a little, almost as though he can’t help it. They’re so close that the motion of it rocks them together, the tip of Dimitri’s cock and the knuckles of his fingers brushing over Byleth’s wet cunt; at once, both of them gasp.

Still, it’s as though they’re thinking the same thought, moving in unison to press in close to one another. Dimitri slides between her legs and presses in until Byleth can feel the length of his cock pressed snugly against her, spreading her pussy apart, and – all at once, she realises something.

“Oh,” Byleth says. “You’re – big.”

Dimitri glances down, looking flustered. “I’m sorry,” he says, his ears turning red. “Is that… something you dislike?”

Byleth cocks her hips, feeling him out. She’s so wet they glide together easily in one slick motion, and when the head of his cock catches on her clit, she can’t help the way her hips jump. “No,” she says after a long moment, losing herself a little in the motion of her hips. “No, it’s – it’s good, I like it. It’s just a lot. We should probably build up to it.”

“Probably?” Dimitri repeats, looking doubtful.

“Probably,” Byleth agrees, rocking her hips again to grind her clit against him. It feels so good it leaves her breath hitching, and – Goddess. She wants so badly to pull him in closer, to press her hips up until he’s right there, the blunt head of him stretching her open, but – she shouldn’t. She thinks of how much it’ll ache, how poorly it’ll leave her walking. Somehow, instead of putting her off, it just makes her want it more.

Instead, though, she just keeps rocking her hips in that same, slow grind. “If you let me keep doing this, I’ll come,” she tells him, her hand wound tightly in his hair. Dimitri watches her, his eyes roaming from her mouth to her heaving chest to between her legs, where she grinds against his cock. “It’ll make it easier for you to – to fit.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, sounding choked. He glances back up at her, his hair sticking damply to his forehead. “I’d – yes, I’d like that. Anything, as long as it makes you feel good, Byleth.”

That makes Byleth breathe in sharply, her hips writhing. He’s so eager to please that it leaves her aching, and she pulls him in a little closer with her thighs around his hips, flattening the thick length of his cock against her. “It is good,” she says belatedly. With how her head is swimming, it’s hard to stay focused. “You feel – you feel so good.”

Dimitri’s cock jumps against her, his hips kicking. “Thank you,” Dimitri says, so absurdly polite it makes Byleth breathe a laugh. His hand flexes on her hip, little more than a reminder of the way he’s holding her, but the thought of it – him holding her down, pressing his big cock into her – makes Byleth’s chest heave. “Like this, you’re so…”

“You too,” Byleth says. She’s not making sense, she knows, but she can barely string a sentence together with the way Dimitri is right there, watching her grind against him. With another tilt of her hips, his cock drags deliciously against the pearl of her clit and then down, down, pressing just so against where she’s wettest. “Oh.”

Dimitri’s hand flexes again, a little harder. “Byleth,” he says, his voice strained. “Oh, that’s…”

“Yeah,” Byleth agrees. She rocks her hips again, just to feel it – the faintest pressure, the hint of what she could have. She’s so slick she can hear it now, making filthy sounds with each drag of her hips, and she’s so close that maybe, just maybe – “Do you – do you want to?”

There’s a moment, then, where Dimitri doesn’t speak. He’s silent for so long that Byleth has to tilt her head and blink back up at him, steadying herself with a hand over his. He’s staring at where Byleth is spread around him, the pink head of his cock snug against her cunt. “Inside?” he asks after a long, long moment of silence, his voice growing hoarse.

Byleth hums her assent, softening her grip in his hair enough so that she can scratch her nails against his scalp. It makes him shiver, and when he looks up at her, his mouth bitten pink, it takes everything in her to stop herself from pulling him in for another long kiss. 

“You didn’t – come,” Dimitri says. He flushes, clearly embarrassed, and Byleth feels a little bad for how it makes her wetter. “Will it not hurt?”

Byleth knows it might, but she doesn’t quite have the patience required right now to tell Dimitri she’ll probably like it. “We don’t have to go the full way,” she says instead. “Just – just the tip will feel good.”

“Just the tip,” Dimitri repeats, his voice dipping low. Slowly, almost absent-mindedly, he presses a hand between them to wrap around the wet, thick length of his cock. Byleth’s breath hitches at the sight of it, and when Dimitri nudges the head firmer against where she’s wet and open, it takes everything in her to stop herself from moaning. “And – you’re certain it will be good?"

“Yes,” Byleth breathes. She wants it so badly it’s hard not to press a hand to Dimitri’s shoulder and push herself onto him. “Definitely.”

Dimitri glances up at her, watching her from beneath his lashes. He looks debauched like this – Byleth’s hand in his messy hair, his hips grinding slowly against her. He’s so gorgeous it makes Byleth warm all over, and she pants with how desperately she wants him. “Alright,” he manages. “If you’re sure.”

He waits for Byleth to nod before he moves, and the two of them glance down to watch as Dimitri presses himself a little more firmly against her entrance. He’s clumsy, slipping slightly as he notches himself against her, but after a moment he finally, finally moves his thumb just beneath the head of his cock and pushes in.

Byleth can’t help the way she moans at it – the sight of it, the feeling. He’s so big that even just the blunt head of his cock is a bigger stretch than she’d anticipated, and her toes curl before it’s even inside. “Byleth,” Dimitri says, his voice choked. “I – oh, I–”

“I know,” Byleth moans, clenching her fist in Dimitri’s hair so she doesn’t wiggle back onto him. He’s taking it slow as he presses his cock into her, rocking in tiny motions that have Byleth struggling to breathe. It’s good and it’s maddening and it aches so well Byleth has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. “Please, like that, yes–”

When the tip of his cock slides fully into Byleth, she feels half-crazed with it. She can’t help the way she moans, her whole body writhing with it; from the way Dimitri grips at her, hunched over until his hair brushes her chest, she can tell he must feel the same.

“You’re – Byleth,” he gasps, his hips jumping as though he can’t quite stop it. “You’re so wet.

“For you,” she tells him, her voice shaking. “Fuck. Dimitri, let me – gods, I want to come–”

Dimitri looks up at that, so quickly it surprises Byleth a little. “Like this?” he asks, breathless. When Byleth nods, he groans. “Please. Please, Byleth, I – I want to see it.”

Byleth shifts just enough so that she can bring one hand between them. Dimitri watches it with all the focus he reserves for training and lessons, and it almost makes Byleth laugh. “Just – you feel so good, I’ll barely even need to – to touch myself.”

Dimitri’s cock jumps at that, hard enough that it makes Byleth gasp. “Sorry,” Dimitri says, his voice strained. “I, uh–”

“Have you thought about that? Me touching myself?” Byleth slips her fingers between her legs, dragging them through her wetness. Dimitri nods, the motion slight enough that Byleth almost misses it. It has her twitching, clenching up around the head of Dimitri’s cock, and they groan at the feeling of it. “That’s – oh, Dimitri.”

“I didn’t intend on telling you,” Dimitri says. “I thought it was – awful of me, to imagine you like that.”

Byleth drags her fingers up, moving slowly, until she reaches her clit. She’s so sensitive it has her hips jumping as she circles it with her fingers, and she can’t quite hold back the moan that builds. “No,” she breathes, shaking her head. “No, I – oh, I like it. The thought of you– oh, mmm.”

Dimitri doesn’t say anything, but Byleth doesn’t need him to; she closes her eyes and thinks of him thinking of her, fisting his cock in the quiet of his room until he’s spilling across his hand and his stomach. How many times had he done it? The roll of her fingers over her clit is smooth and silky, and the just-there pressure of Dimitri stretching her out with just the tip of his cock is maddening, all-encompassing, driving her crazy with how badly she wants.

Like this, it’s so easy for Byleth to push herself to the edge with her fingers rolling against her clit. She’s wound up so tight it feels inevitable, and with her fist clenching in Dimitri’s hair, she rocks into the sensation of it, willing herself to breathe, to stay quiet, to keep herself still as finally, finally

“I’m coming,” Byleth gasps, breathless. “Fuck, fuck, Dimitri–”

Her orgasm is white-hot, leaving stars behind her eyes as she touches herself, her hips rocking into it. Faintly, she can hear Dimitri speaking, his voice caught on a moan, but her ears are ringing and all she can focus on is the feeling of him inside her, pressing in deeper, his hips twisting into her with tight, short motions.

It takes a long, long moment for Byleth to come back to herself, her hips still twitching and her chest heaving with it. She feels sparkly all over, and when Dimitri leans in to kiss her, she sighs into him, loose and relaxed.

“You are so beautiful,” Dimitri is saying, murmuring against her mouth in between messy little kisses. “That – Byleth, you – Goddess, you feel so good, you’re so beautiful, I want it, I–”

“What do you want,” Byleth says. She can already tell by the way Dimitri’s hips are rocking into her, the head of his cock fucking her so shallowly that the stretch of it has her thighs shaking. “Tell me, Dimitri.”

“The way you felt around me,” Dimitri says, sounding so wrecked it makes Byleth shiver. “I – I wanted to press in so desperately, Byleth, but I can’t hurt you–”

And Byleth knows that she should probably tell him you won’t, I’m so wet, I want it too, but – she’s impatient, and there’s already another orgasm building between her hips, her fingers still slipping against her clit. So, instead, she wraps her thighs a little tighter around his hips and slowly, carefully presses him in as she pushes back onto him.

She’s so wet that Dimitri’s cock slips inside easily, stretching her out so slowly it makes her eyes roll. Dimitri moans from his chest, his hand grasping tight at her waist, and pants, “Byleth, are you – are you certain, I–”

“Please,” Byleth manages. “Please, please, you feel so good–”

She can barely breathe as Dimitri presses into her, and even when she loosens her thighs and stops rocking her hips, he keeps fucking into her with slow, careful movements of his hips. He’s so big, stretching her out so much it feels like he’s carving a space just for himself into her, leaving her senses fizzing, and it just – it doesn’t stop until Byleth is gasping, grabbing blindly at Dimitri, her fingers stilling on her clit just so she can feel it.

It feels like forever has passed by the time Dimitri finally, finally bottoms out in her, his hips pressed firmly to hers. “Byleth,” he gasps, leaning in to cover her body with his. It feels so good, pushing him in impossibly close, and Byleth’s hips twitch up into it until they’re both moaning. “Byleth.”

“Move,” Byleth says, her voice more pleading than she’d intended. Dimitri motions as though he’s going to pull himself away, and Byleth half-laughs as she wraps her arms around his shoulders to keep him there, her thighs tightening around his hips. “No, no – your hips.”

Dimitri doesn’t say anything, but Byleth feels the kiss he presses to her neck as he begins to rock his hips. There’s no real rhythm to it at first, unsteady and lacking in confidence, but the drag of him inside of her is so good Byleth can’t even moan. She just takes it, tilting her hips so he slides deeper, and on one slightly stiff roll of his hips, Dimitri grinds just right against her clit as he fucks into her.

Byleth is moaning before she can help herself, her fingers scrabbling at Dimitri’s shoulders. “Yes,” she breathes, her hips rolling back into Dimitri’s thrusts. “Oh, yes, yes, like that, that’s good.”

Dimitri rocks his hips again, a little uncertain, and – it’s just right. “Like this,” he says, glancing up at Byleth. She nods, breathless, and Dimitri does it again, and again, finally falling into a rhythm that has something like a wail building in Byleth’s chest, threatening to break with each roll of Dimitri’s hips.

Byleth isn’t certain as to when Dimitri begins speaking; she only knows that he does, murmuring in low tones, so quiet she can only hear parts: so good, so beautiful, thank you, Byleth, I’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me, you feel so wonderful, I, I–

And it’s so easy to be swept away in it. When the drawers begin to knock against the wall with the motion of Dimitri’s hips, Byleth hardly notices it. When Dimitri pushes himself up just enough so that he can watch Byleth, one hand against the wall to steady himself, it seems inconsequential when the notes on her pinboard begin to fall, slipping to the floor and falling behind the drawers. “Byleth,” Dimitri groans, his hair falling into his eyes, his hips working faster, harder. “Byleth, my love, please.”

There’s a terrible clatter to Byleth’s left, but she pays it little mind. She can feel her orgasm building again between the cradle of her hips, her cunt aching with it. Her thighs are so tense they’re beginning to burn, and she wants, she wants it so badly. “You’re doing so well, Dimitri.”

“I want you to come,” Dimitri tells her, so serious it’s almost out of place. “Can I – show me how to touch you?”

“Please,” Byleth says, clenching around his cock at the sheer thought of his hand between her legs. It takes a moment for Byleth to be able to move for Dimitri’s hand; he lets her take it from her waist to slip it between her legs instead, and at the first touch of his fingertips – a little less calloused than hers, silky-smooth against her clit – Byleth jerks hard, pleasure warming her from her head to her toes. She keeps her fingers on his and moves them how she likes it, fast but gentle, moving until the sensation of it is velvety and white-hot.

“Like this,” Dimitri pants, his hand moving steadily between her legs, his thrusts growing a messy, “You’re so beautiful, Byleth, I – I’d let you keep me like this forever. I’m so close, but I – I want you to–”

Byleth nods, her eyes squeezed closed. “Fuck,” she grits out from between clenched teeth, almost a sob. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Dimitri, like that, please–”

And she’s so close, so close, but she feels it before Dimitri can even so much as moan. He twitches inside her, so deep she feels as though she can feel it in her belly, and then –

“Byleth,” he gasps, his fingers pausing for just a moment. She makes a little sound – disappointed, completely accidental – and his fingers begin moving again, sloppy and just barely in rhythm, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s moaning so loud, his hips jerking. “I’m coming, I’m – oh, Goddess, please–”

It hits Byleth like a spell gone rogue. He’s coming in me turns to he’s coming for me, I made him do that, and despite the uneven rhythm of Dimitri’s fingers and hips, Byleth is clenching up around him and gritting her teeth around a wail, coming so hard she can barely breathe. It’s a simmering, slow thing that washes over her and through her, dragging her down with it until her ears are ringing almost violently; all she can do is hold onto Dimitri, shaking against him as she muffles her voice into his shoulder.

Byleth has no idea how long it takes her to come back down from it. By the time she can breathe again, taking in huge gasps that make her lungs ache, Dimitri has her cradled against his chest, slumped so heavily on top of her that she feels like she might melt into the solid surface of her drawers. She aches everywhere and she can feel the mess between her legs, wetting her thighs and no doubt dripping out of her. It’s sort of sexy, but she won’t let herself think too hard about it right now.

Instead, she brings one leaden arm to press around Dimitri’s neck, shivering when he groans. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Dimitri says, his voice hoarse. “Absolutely.”

Byleth breathes a laugh. “Good,” she says, trailing her fingers through his damp hair. “I was worried I might’ve killed you.”

“It certainly felt like it for a moment,” Dimitri says. It takes a moment, but he eventually peeks down at her, his face flushed and his hair stuck to his forehead. “In a good way, of course.”

Byleth smiles, wriggling her hips a little. Only then does she realise Dimitri is still inside of her, and – “Oh,” she says. Her smile morphs into a furrowed brow, and she watches Dimitri in confusion. “You’re still…?”

Dimitri flusters almost immediately. “Ah,” he says. “Yes. I – well. Even after I – I finish, I stay… yes. It’s – perhaps to do with my Crest.”

Byleth hums. “I see,” she says. “So you can still…”

Dimitri blushes. “Well, I think so,” he says.

“Hm,” Byleth says. She remembers, just for a moment, the racket they’d made – the papers falling to the floor, the drawers banging against the wall. When she tilts her head back against the drawers and looks around, she can suddenly see the mess they’ve made of her room. “In that case,” she says, rather sagely, “We should probably move to the bed.”

Notes:

'perhaps we should move to the bed' says byleth, completely unaware that dimitri WILL rip a pillow straight in half if she so much as looks at him for too long

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