Work Text:
Claude is a simple man with very simple pleasures and a very obvious type.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
And terrible for his health.
It's why he spends his formative years fisting his cock to a Professor with the face of a Goddess and the strength of a dragon. Why he lets Yuri, beautiful and sharp and stinking of blood, into his war rooms even in the early years of the war, when no one’s allegiances were set in stone, least of all a spy well-versed in dirty affairs.
Why, whenever he sees Yuri and Byleth bowed over a shared strategy meant for mercenaries and spies, he shoves his way between them.
Why he follows them both, hours after the strategy meeting has ended, to the war room.
Why he shoves open the doors imperiously, thinking to break in on their private war council.
He’s not expecting to see Yuri with his pants around his knees, head tossed to the ceiling, moaning, filthy and wild, as his cock drags slow over Byleth’s tongue.
“Oh really now,” Yuri snarls, shoving at Byleth’s shoulders. She pops off his cock with a filthy sound that makes Claude dizzy and leans back. Her shirt is open and her tits are out, pale beneath the moonlight. Claude can make out the pretty pink of her nipples and he swallows, eyes darting away from her.
Yuri fixes Claude with a furious look. His mouth flattens in annoyance as he glowers at the papers and maps in Claude’s hands, “You’re a horrible taskmaster, you know.”
“I think I should be the one upset here,” Claude says and the words feel clumsy on his tongue. The mind feared by Imperial soldiers has gone still and silent, stalling on base desire, capable of doing nothing but replay the harsh whimpers that’d left Yuri’s mouth mere seconds ago. He clears his throat. Manages a smile, “To find my general and spymaster caught in flagrante delicto in our war room – you know I use that table, Yuri.”
With a taunting look, Yuri swipes his finger through the mess gathering between his thighs – had they just fucked? The image of Byleth poised over Yuri, the two of them red-faced and flushed with pleasure. Goddess-blessed beauties caught in –
Claude stops breathing as Yuri brings a finger to his lips, watching the long digit dip into a lipstick-smeared mouth, unable to look away as Yuri’s cheeks hollow out, entire body set to light at the filthy pop as Yuri cleans his finger.
“I’ve spent plenty of time going to my knees before nobles,” Yuri winks at him as he reapplies his lipstick. He’s doing that on purpose. Dragging attention to his mouth again. Tempting little mockingbird, “Give me the names, Lord Riegan. I’ll make sure they spill what you want.”
All Claude had wanted then was to take his mouth. Wants it again now.
“Satisfied?” Yuri asks. His bottom lip is shiny. Claude doesn’t mention it.
He looks to Byleth instead and startles at the half-pinched half-exasperated look she’d come to develop during their time at the Academy.
She’s annoyed, he realizes, but not ashamed.
Byleth, Claude had long since learned, understood little about trifling things like propriety, and cared even less for them. He just hadn’t understood to what extent.
She straightens in her chair as if she were holding court despite the open drape of her shirt and pulls her hand out from beneath Yuri –
Claude chokes at the wet shine of her fingers, heat spiking hard down his spine as he realizes where they’d been. His ears burn with Yuri’s stifled gasp, unable to look away as Yuri twitches violently and clamps a hand down on Byleth’s wrist.
Byleth examines her fingers and then wipes them brusquely on Yuri’s pant leg. She doesn’t move to tug his pants back up, only looks at Claude, waiting. As if she intended to be finished with her general duties so that she might return to –
Claude clamps down on a hysterical laugh.
“You dismissed everyone for the night because everyone was tired,” Yuri reminds him, his fingers tapping a restless beat on the table. He tucks his cock back into his pants but does not pull away from Byleth, instead, sliding into her lap, half supported by the table. His fingers are white-knuckled around her shoulder and he angles a heated gaze at her, still hungry and wanting.
Shit – Claude’s had dreams that have begun just like this.
“Unless you were struck with inspiration on your way to bed,” Yuri squints at Claude, “That better not be it. Your sleepless plans are terrible.”
“They won us Garreg Mach as a base,” Claude says with a touch of affront. The old banter’s easy. Comfortable. Allows him to pretend he is not half hard in his pants as he approaches them.
Yuri frowns, “They got me a burn on my face.”
“A crying shame,” Byleth agrees, patting his cheek where the burn had long since healed, “Perhaps he’ll only take a swing at you the next time around.”
“After leaving a cryptic non-message to parlay at midnight, of course,” Claude adds.
“Of course.”
Yuri makes a face at them. He stretches his hand out for Claude’s papers.
This close Claude can smell heat and sex. Can feel the warmth of Yuri’s bare shoulders and spy the long sweeping arches of someone’s nails. Claude pinches himself but cannot make himself look away, attention caught on the slick red of Yuri’s mouth. The pale slate of moonlight over Byleth’s chest. The lazy way Byleth curls over Yuri’s stomach to glance at the documents.
They’re both going to realize the information is old but for the life of him, Claude cannot summon an excuse. Cannot think of anything but a deep-rooted need to shove himself between them –
Yuri’s head jerks up. His gaze goes sharp. Assessing.
“This info hasn’t changed,” Yuri says, a bead of … something in his voice. Understanding. Amusement. Taunting. Claude can’t tweeze it apart.
“Oh,” Claude hears himself speak as if in a dream, “I must not have been thinking straight.”
Byleth makes a noise under her breath and Claude shudders as she tracks a hand over the inside of his thigh, biting his lip as she cups him through his pants.
“You’re hard,” she notes with terrible bluntness.
“Must be why I wasn’t thinking straight,” he says on a breath, pulling for courage - feeling the low swoop of fear and anticipation that’d twisted his stomach when he’d crossed the borders five long years ago - and bends to kiss her mouth.
He braces himself to be removed but she does not. Instead, her hand comes up over the back of his head, fingers curling in the short hairs at the base of his neck. She yanks him in, urgent and hungry, a hot little noise on her tongue he swallows away.
Byleth’s eyes are shining when they pull apart, intrigued in the same way she’d been when he’d first hopped on a wyvern for her and demonstrated summersaults around the clumsy Fodlan folk. His blood roars with her attention now as it had then.
“Oh, did you follow us because you wanted to see us fuck in the war room?” Yuri asks, with just enough of a sneer in his voice Claude shudders at the callousness. Not cruel ... just – Yuri yanks at Claude’s hair and Claude’s shudders at the cold knowing of an Underground Lord, “Wanted to see Byleth with her tits out, undone and begging? Get a nice glimpse of my cock spreading her open so you can imagine yourself in my place later tonight?”
“Or he wanted a chance at your mouth, Yuri. We’ve all seen him looking,” Byleth grabs for Yuri as if in demonstration, her gaze sly as she shoves her thumb roughly over his tongue, bearing down hard as she shoves into the pretty ‘o’ Yuri makes for her.
Yuri moans for it, full-throated and breathy. Yuri’s thigh twitches further apart and he gropes for his cock, winking at Claude as he strokes, bobbing his head in a little show on Byleth’s fingers.
“Well,” Claude manages in a tight voice, heat crawling up his neck as his voice tears on the word. He fits his hand over Yuri’s thigh. Squeezes. He’s both pleased and surprised when Yuri doesn’t remove him. He licks his lips, heart pounding as the two of them track the motion, “I’ve never been the sort to settle for one when I can have everything.”
Yuri laughs at that, his expression pleased. Byleth looks quietly amused, the barest hint of a smile on her lips. Claude hisses, thrusting into her hand as she frees his cock, groaning into Yuri’s shoulder as she strokes him to full hardness.
Yuri’s thumb notches into Claude’s jaw, eyes a little wild as he leans in, “What greed, Lord Riegan. You ought to be more careful. I’ve seen all too many nobles lose themselves to avarice. Seen even more laid to waste at my feet alone – do you really think you can handle both the Savage Mockingbird and the Ashen Demon?”
Claude’s heart flips in a low swoop as if he is in free-fall, reminded of his first wyvern flight and the careless delight that’d made his head swim. Feels the same heady dizziness that came from wielding beasts larger and more feral than him. The sensation is potent enough to make his knees weak.
Claude gropes for Yuri’s cock, squeezes over the head, taking advantage of the sweet songbird moan Yuri lets out to lick into his mouth.
“I think I do quite a good job of that even without your cock in my hand,” Claude says and Yuri laughs again, high and flighty. He angles his face over Claude’s jaw to suck a gentle bruise into the skin. Sweet enough Claude believes himself with the advantage.
He yelps when he’s put to the ground but cannot find himself to protest. Not when his head is settled against Yuri’s chest. Not when Byleth straddles his hips with a dagger of a smile on her mouth. Not when her cheeks bloom pink and she groans, low and heavy, and rubs his cock between the crux of her legs. She’s still wearing her shorts and he shudders at the bright contrast of precum against dark satin.
“Daring,” Yuri says, smirking. His thighs flex against Claude, cock leaking against Claude’s back. His fingers dance over the rapid pulse of Claude’s neck, nails digging in hard for a brief heart-stopping second as if he might claw out Claude’s jugular. The vulnerability of Claude’s position makes him twitch, old instinct roaring in him to wrestle out of their control. As if sensing his thoughts, Byleth’s thighs tense, holding him caught and still. Slowly, her hips grind against his, teasing enough he whimpers.
Yuri purrs, stroking his stomach, “But I’ve always liked that about you, Lord Riegan.”
“Come now, if we’re going to do this,” Claude managing a shaky smile that dissolves into a low groan when Byleth ruts against him, “You could at least call me by name.”
“We would,” Byleth says, the words trembling as she rocks into her own pleasure, a breathy whisper of a moan dripping off her tongue as she angles the head of his cock against her. The fabric is damp enough to cling. Enough for him to feel the heat of her cunt. To glimpse what it would feel like to slide into her, “If you would tell us what it was.”
His pulse trips.
“It’s Claude,” he says, affecting hurt, and then yelps when Byleth bites his throat in reprimand.
“Claude’s a common name in Fodlan. Too dashing for new moms to pass up. It’s even a popular choice for fake names,” Yuri repeats words long spoken, breathing them over Claude’s mouth.
It’s Claude’s first instinct to duck and hide, throw his entire self over the secret laid bare to the world. His fingers twitch for a knife. A vial of poison. Something to throw up as a defense –
“You wield dangerous blades, my Lord,” Yuri says, lifting one of Claude’s hands to kiss the knuckles, “You ought to be more careful about nicking yourself on them.”
Byleth hums in agreement, fingers twining with Claude’s other hand. She raises Claude’s palm to her lips, teeth grazing his roaring pulse point, oh so gentle over the vulnerable flesh –
Byleth’s hand twists over his cock, sliding him beneath the satin of her shorts, and he groans, bucking at the heat of her, mouth watering as he watches the slow wicked slide of his cock against her. Yuri hums, reaching out to part Byleth’s shorts, sliding them aside, allowing Claude a little glimpse of her, a peek of his cock against her opening.
Yuri whispers something, low and immaterial as he curls pointer finger and middle over the head of Claude’s cock, forming a snug space for him to rut into, the trio of them dissolving into low whispers and heady groans. With a twist of his fingers, Yuri shoves up into Byleth, coaxing out a cry loud enough it echoes in the room and sets Claude aflame.
“Ah– Claude –“ Byleth breathes out, the stoicism on her face smearing away in favor of something wanting and eager. Her voice breathless and high, sparkling with pleasure around a name that is not quite his –
"Claude," Yuri repeats, grinding against his back, a sweet lavender fragrance drifting from Yuri's throat. He says it again. Near mocking. A little dagger prying into Claude's ribs.
Yuri tweaks Byleth's nipple and she yanks at his hair for it, biting and fierce and demanding as she licks into his mouth. Yuri laughs; the look on his face is indulgent and familiar, a man well-accustomed to Byleth's demands.
Claude growls under his breath at the loss of attention, kicking a little when their focus remains on each other. He bites his lip at the familiarity with which Yuri touches her. His heart pounds at the rapt focus in Byleth's face. Spymaster and General caught in –
“Khalid,” Claude gasps out. He feels their attention cut into the core of him, past his secrets and many walls. Dangerous blades, indeed. He bites his lip, shivering beneath their gaze.
“It’s Khalid,” he says, reveling in the tight grip of Byleth’s hand around his wrist and Yuri’s low hungry growl. He winks at them, twisting his head to press a kiss to Byleth’s wrist, stroking a hand over Yuri’s throat, “A little of my blood to keep my beautiful blades? A small sacrifice –“
Byleth devours his mouth. He can taste her Crest. The smoke curl of heat and fire and power –
Yuri takes him next, slow and soothing in contrast to Byleth’s hunger, greedy in a different way. He twists his tongue expertly, coaxing over Claude’s, torturously exploratory until Claude could not remember the name he’d offered mere seconds ago. He cries out as Byleth fucks herself deep on his cock. She is so beautiful in her pleasure, her lips shiny and red, a rose blush high on her cheeks as she sinks down on him. He feels Byleth’s shiver as his own, stroking her hips in an attempt to steady her. She smiles at him for it, steals the breath from his lunges with that and then refuses to return it as she sets a demanding pace.
She’s impatient enough to still be wearing her shorts and tights and he shudders at the rasp of lace against the underside of his cock, heat curling in the pit of him, twisting tighter and tighter -
“Khalid,” Yuri says on low snarl.
Claude whimpers and writhes on the name, gasping into Byleth’s breasts as she bears down on him and rides him into the ground in search of her own pleasure. Her eyes twinkle at him, hips swiveling – Claude shouts as she squeezes all around him, hot and delicious, the core of her molten fire –
“Demanding, isn’t she? Did you expect that? Or did you expect patient saintly Teach in your bed? Think you had to coax the hell beast from beneath that stoicism? Pet and purr at her until you could seduce the desire out of her? Think you’d flip the script and be the one to teach her to let loose and take what she wants?” Yuri giggles and his teeth are biting and sharp against Claude’s ear and neck, “My darling, the Ashen Demon doesn’t simper and sigh and pretend at chastity like your pretty Derdriu maidens.”
Claude whimpers as they pass something between each other – a vial or something, he doesn’t wonder on it for too long – latching blindly onto one of Byleth’s breasts to bite and ground himself as Yuri shoves him upright, moaning as Yuri’s cock rubs at the base of his spine.
“You wouldn’t believe the demands. The Demon gets especially hungry after missions. Insatiable after a victory. One part bloodlust, one part adrenaline - dangerous mix as any one of your poisons. You should’ve seen her storming her way down into the Abyss to find me some days, that Crest of her’s bleeding from her pores - ever wonder where she disappeared to after the Gronder victory in your Academy days?”
Claude keens at the realization, shuddering as something wet slides between his cheeks. He jerks as Yuri’s other hand gropes for his balls, orgasm shivering and delicate on his tongue as Yuri toys with the heavy weight. Byleth’s paused to watch them, her eyes hooded and hungry. Her cunt squeezes, perfect and tight around the crown of Claude’s cock, and he jerks, vision blurring as –
Yuri tsks at him, his fingers tight around the base of his cock. The fingers of his other hand slide into Claude’s ass, just two but the breach is enough Claude shakes, entire body pulled tight in pleasure.
“Not yet,” Byleth licks at his mouth, a lazy smile on her face as she fucks down the length of him again, twisting her hips to grind against Yuri’s knuckles.
“There it is,” Yuri huffs, his tone so conversational Claude wants to screams, “Should’ve heard her after Gronder. On your knees, Yuri, mouth open, tongue out. Lie right there, Yuri, spread your legs and get your cock hard for me. You’re going to sit there, Yuri, with your pretty cock and wicked mouth and let me ride you until the sheets are stinking and filthy. And when the monastery nuns come to clean them, you’ll have to bat your gorgeous eyes and explain just how cruelly you were used.”
“Well, I never said that,” Byleth purrs. The smile on her face explains she’d certainly thought it.
She guides Claude’s hand between her lips, moaning thickly as his thumb rubs over her clit. She licks into Claude’s mouth again, her hands curling into his hair, pulling hard enough the pain-pleasure of the yank snaps down his spine in one long arch, jerks his cock in a heavy twitch as if he were strung out like a puppet to be used for her pleasure. She sighs at him, her smile free and shining as the stars he’d longed for.
“You were such a good boy for her that week, weren’t you? Just managed to work out a gambit after a week of private lessons and so eager for praise,” Yuri giggles and he lets Claude have one tortuously long stroke as Byleth raises her hips, “Got her off thinking about what else you’d do for her. Surprisingly patient, wasn’t he? I didn’t see him leave his chair for hours on end trying to work out your little assignment. Guess he’s a good boy when the reward is worth it. Think he’ll let you sit on his face as you grade his work and grind your cunt on his tongue?”
“Oh hells, I would’ve done anything,” Claude breathes out, pulled in two at the revelation and the utter filth Yuri lays over him. He’d certainly thought it - spent a good year with his hand around his cock and thrown guesses at Byleth's hunger, but to have the confirmation here in his hands. He squeezes her hip, a little trip of delight pulsing in his blood, the same victorious joy whenever he would stumble on a new poison.
His heart pounds at the pleased little smile Byleth grants him.
“How sweet of you,” Byleth says over Yuri’s snort of, “Suck up.”
“You just wanted a break for yourself that time,” Byleth says to Yuri, reaching around Claude with pinching fingers.
To Claude, “He’s got a gorgeous mouth but a laziness you have to work out of him. Too used to being petted by nobles willing to do all the work for a pretty face. But, you’d let me work my pleasure on your tongue for as long as I please, wouldn’t you Khalid? And stay sweet and eager as I show you the best places to trace that clever tongue of yours – oh, Khalid – you should see how you look right now. So hungry and desperate with the idea. C’mon, fuck me harder and I might let you suck your cum from my cunt.”
Claude gasps, obeying helplessly as her pace picks up. His eyes feel heavy, seconds from slipping closed.
Yuri’s fingers find something that makes him shout, pleasure belting straps into his muscles, his entire body tense with need. He snatches on control with the edge of his teeth and Byleth tears it away from him with a ruthlessness that punches through him. Her moans go higher, breathless and wanting; her hips drive into his, the force of her like a storm. She squeezes all around him and he can taste her orgasm like honeyed mead, made desperate and hungry by the mix of them together, aching to drink her pleasure –
“Oh – I’m gonna—“ he doesn’t get the rest of the words out, his vision shattering as his body jerks. Yuri’s hand squeezes all around him, sparking his orgasm with bright notes of pain, the sensation twisting together like his best poison, blurring away at his senses and burning away his thoughts, breaking him down to nothing.
He’s coming down as Byleth pulls off of him and he whines, high and helpless in his throat as she spreads her lips, allowing him a glimpse of the thick drip of seed and the messy stain of slick and sweat on her thighs.
Yuri shoves him to the ground. Rearranges him. A teasing smirk lights Yuri's lips as his cock nudges at Claude’s ass, grinning fiercer when Claude clenches, entire body twitching with the remnants of his orgasm.
“Ha – hey, ’m sensitive,” Claude whines, laying a hand over Yuri’s abs. His fingernails bite perfect half-moons into the pale skin as Yuri pushes into him.
Yuri’s fingers sink bruises into the inside of Claude’s thigh. The blunt head of his cock stretches Claude open in a way that is too much and too quick. Claude grunts at the size of him. Byleth was right - Yuri was a lazy bastard - he’d done just barely enough to stretch him.
“Oh, you like the fullness,” Yuri says, grinning as Claude writhes on the length of him. Yuri doesn’t bother slowing down, pushing forward and forward, dogged as a wolf on a cornered prey, “Like to be overwhelmed –“
Claude gasps, batting at his chest for a second before Byleth grabs for his hands and shackles his wrists with her legs. She’s removed her shorts but kept the tights. Her cunt hovers just over his throat and he moans, loud and frantic enough to pierce the thick doors of the war room and alert anyone passing by as to what they’re doing.
The war room -
Claude hisses, a part of him twisting in two at the realization. Caught off balanced by the picture they present.
Noble lord – Prince – caught between mercenary and spy. A lifetime spent in Almyran court avoiding things that bump in the night and tonight he’d gone eagerly, shoved his throat between sharpened blades –
Byleth twists ones of his nipples ruthlessly until he shouts again and forgets the thought. Two pairs of eyes gleam at him for that.
“Hopefully that’ll be enough to keep out more intruders,” Yuri laughs as he drags out of Claude.
Claude babbles a retort, senseless and idiotic and not at all a retort because he’s whining again, moaning louder and louder as Yuri sets an unexpectedly brutal pace, long thrusts razing him through.
“F-fuck, you’re a wretched bastard,” Claude gasps as Yuri strokes his cock – just the way you like, my Lord – the heat of Yuri's hand too much to bear. Sweat beads his brow, matting the hairs on his chest. His entire body screams at him to pull away, to thrust into the grip, to beg and cry and surrender to being devoured – oh, you do not claim beasts, Khalid, without wondering what it'd be like to be eaten. Yuri strokes him faster – too quickly – too harsh – demanding and insistent, dragging out something bright and bloated from his chest, something burning and –
Something sparks over him, green magic like a strong desert breeze, cooling the flames –
The Crest of Riegan snaps low over his stomach, burning up the length of him –
“That’s a neat trick,” Yuri says, sounding impressed, his hand squeezes over the head of Claude’s cock – hells, he’s hard again – shaping a tight space for him to rut into, running rough hands over the ruddy head and –
Claude squeezes his eyes shut, gasping for a breath that never quite comes, gasping into Byleth’s inner thighs and he can see her growing wetter at his noises. Her slick smearing his throat. His seed –
Her nails bite at his lower stomach, two fingers pluck at his nipples, teasing at first and then brutal and almost cruel. Her hips wiggle above him, demanding, and he stretches up to slot his mouth over her, toes curling at the rich groan of approval that pulls from deep in her chest. His heel digs into Yuri’s back, drawing him deeper.
“Oh, my Lord, we are going to enjoy you,” Byleth sighs and the approval sends sparks down Claude’s belly.
“You knew he’d be willing and easy,” Yuri gasps between long thrusts.
“Sweet,” Byleth corrects.
Her heels dig into Claude’s head and her hips grind over his jaw with a ruthlessness at odds with her words.
Yuri laughs again, “Easy. Desperate to surrender to the two beasts he pretends to command. You know they talk, don’t you? Gloucester especially. Riegan and his rabid hounds. Takes a stupid man to stick his hand down the mouth of wolves and pretend them dogs. Someday they’ll devour him whole and leave nothing but bones. If only he knew, Khalid, just how fervently you wished for that. Is it the Almyran in you –“
Claude jerks at the revelation. Another secret torn from his grasp, leaving him spiraling with nowhere to hide. His hands twist desperately beneath Byleth's legs and she grinds down on his tongue, drowning out his lies. Yuri’s hips move slow between Claude’s legs, dragging out at an aching pace and breaking him apart with brutal thrusts, never stilling enough to allow him to settle and adjust, only forces into him, wringing out his surrender.
“–That makes you prone to dancing with blades and fire?” Yuri asks and then pats Claude on the chest in a nearly comforting gesture, “You can pat yourself on the back. We’d guessed but didn’t know for sure until you offered a name.”
“We won’t share it,” Byleth assures him, speaking around a moan, her thighs trembling, the lace rasping around Claude’s cheeks. Her orgasm hovers, her taste thick.
“Oh, of course not,” Yuri says, his knuckles rough over Claude’s lips, fingers sinking into Byleth, urging her higher, twisting out a rush of slick Claude laps up like a starving man. With a grunt of approval, Yuri shoves his fingers down Claude’s throat, making him gag and his tongue go sloppy and stupid. The roughness wrings the thoughts from him until he cannot manage more anything beyond laying his tongue flat over Yuri’s knuckles and pointing them just so for, Byleth to grind and fuck herself on, let them take their pleasure from his body and work out his own from their greed, “You are ours to understand – ours to break apart. Think of us, that blade beneath your pillow – close enough to know your dreams, and sharp enough to stave off assailants and their filthy hands.”
And that –
Claude whimpers at the golden promise in those words, what little control remaining burning away, out of his grasp, leaving him grasping for smoke and ash. Surrender hovers, just there, beside his orgasm and he grasps for it desperately, throwing himself at the mercy of his two blades with an eagerness that should frighten him.
“Ours, Lord Riegan,” Byleth says with decisive finality, Goddess commanding as she bears down hard on his head and bows to kiss his cock.
He cums just like that, moaning into the heat of her, arched to the heavens, cry burning out with the all-consuming intensity of a burning star. They follow close behind and it is filthy and messy, their cries more sordid than the prostitute bars where Yuri meets his best informant, bleeding out over him until he is drained and twitching, unable to manage anything more than a low whine as they inspect him and clean him up.
The halls are conspicuously empty when they get him somewhat decent. Thankfully. Decent, to Byleth, is an open shirt gaping wide enough to flaunt the color of her nipples. Yuri, at least, is kind enough to tuck Claude’s cock back in his pants.
“There should be guards here. Always,” Byleth says, a look on her face that promises pain at tomorrow’s training session, “In case of spies.”
“Prudes,” Yuri snickers.
Claude imagines he offers a clever quip but the journey from war room to bed blurs out before the remnants of pleasure buzzing in his mind and the soreness of his limbs. All he knows is that he is carried like a claimed prize. Somehow, when they wrestle him into bed, he is wearing nothing but his earring and a smile.
“A bit unfair I’m the only one naked,” he says, slurring the words into Byleth’s chest. He mouths at a nipple but cannot summon the strength to do much else.
“For us to enjoy in the morning. Without having to unwrap,” Byleth says, groping at his cock and balls. He twitches at the callousness of her touch, whining when she stops.
Yuri laughs as he tugs the tights from her legs, “Though if he were wearing these, that’d be a treat and a half.”
“Maybe next time,” Byleth says, with a feral grin. To Claude, “You’ve certainly an obsession with them haven’t you?”
Claudes huffs. Everyone has had an obsession with her tights. Though he has to admit, he’d been curious about lace and silk on his own skin, shivering a little as he remembers the scrap and feel of them against his cock and inner thighs.
“Anything your ask, my lord,” Byleth chuckles, petting his hair – oh, that’s nice, “I’m your strategist. Haven’t I always executed your plans?”
“We,” Yuri grouses, “We’ve always executed his plans. No matter how mad they are. And you’re not the one stumbling half-blind in the dark most of the time.”
Claude drifts between them, only paying attention with half a mind as the conversation turns from silk and lace to leather and metal buckles. To toys and something more sordid and then to actual work and wartime strategies.
They can decide to arrange him as they please, he decides as he tries to twitch a finger and finds himself incapable, so long as they wring every last shred of pleasure from him each time.
Exhaustion creeps over his skin, humming softly –
No, that’s Byleth. Some old mercenary tune. He’s heard her and Yuri belt the lyrics at victory celebrations years ago, to Lorenz’s and Seteth's dismay and Dimitri's wildfire blush. Something about a Kingdom nun who’d been far from pious with an upturned mouth and a dimple on her ass, who could grind a pecker to bits –
He snickers into Byleth’s skin. He’d been humming the tune when he’d turned in that night, uttering half-phrases under his breath as he checked the traps at his door and the dagger under his pillow.
He should probably check them now. Make sure they’re there. The court was full of assassins and many more eager to bleed the Fodlan from his blood –
“Shhh,” Byleth says, holding him closer when he tries to move.
Yuri drapes over his chest, heavy enough to be stifling but warm enough to be comforting.
Claude feels a kiss on his eyelid. Another on his nose. Two more over his lips, pressing a tune to his mouth.
“You’ve two blades in your hands,” Yuri’s saying and that’s not really true, he’d only the one dagger in his pillow. He’d meant to replace the second beneath his mattress.
His bedmates chuckle. Low and warm. Yuri takes his hand. Byleth takes the other.
“Two blades. No need for anything more.”
“Go to sleep Khalid,” Byleth says and he feels her shift around him to bracket his back. She kisses him sweetly, at odds with the cold protectiveness in her voice, “Nothing will find you in the night.”
“Not with us here,” Yuri promises.
And so he does, slipping into dreams, entrusting his back to the two who would protect it and more.