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The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus has always had close ties with the Church. Dimitri had a more pragmatic view of religion compared to the kings who had come before him, but he saw no need to sever ties with powerful allies and inspire political unrest.
His dedication wasn't at all influenced by the nun who currently lived in Garreg Mach and was famous for bestowing his blessings on the needy. Not at all. That the King always went to mass on Sunday and never missed confession was only to show a good example to the citizens of Faerghus and not lose face in front of his religious peers.
The nuns who served Seiros were always present during mass, assisting the Archbishop quietly in the background. Anyone looking at the King of Faerghus would have noted the intensity of his focus, his gaze never leaving the altar. Little did they know Dimitri was simply waiting for perfect moments when the light from the stained glass windows and Byleth the nun's movement coincided to show the curve of his hips or perhaps the powerful line of his thigh.
And Dimitri had many rivals among the congregation; this was a given. A brief smile or a turn of the head that showed a pale graceful neck would send ripples of tension in the nave like wild winds across Tailtean Plains. Byleth was not his alone, but this meant Dimitri needed to play smart. If he couldn't own Byleth, then he had to make sure Byleth would want him. Would crave for his touch, his lips, his cock, like Byleth needed nothing else.
The quick drumming of his heart, his mind calm and clear, felt akin to the thrill of the hunt. Dimitri took a deep breath as he stepped into the confessional booth, allowing his boots to thump softly against the wooden platform to let the nun know of his presence.
'Are you here for penance, child?'
Byleth's voice, clear but with the slightest hint of a pout, brushed feather-light against Dimitri's skin. He felt a deepening warmth in his stomach as he replied, 'Forgive me, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.'
'Is that so?'
Dimitri heard the rustling of robes as Byleth moved, perhaps to slide closer to the latticed window that afforded Dimitri glimpses of a blue eye. The sharp curve of Byleth's lips.
'Then allow me to share your burdens,' said Byleth. 'Please step forward.'
Traditionally, the confessor must ready themself as soon as a nun acknowledged their presence. Dimitri had been trying to unbutton his trousers, but the dressing of a king was a complicated matter and he found himself having to deal with a jumble of small buttons and white linen.
'I'm sorry,' he said, feeling his cheeks warm.
'I'm here to help you.' There was perhaps a trace of humour in Byleth's tone. But Dimitri noticed the way Byleth's fingers shook as he unbuttoned Dimitri's trousers. He wasn't unaffected, then.
Most people thought nothing of receiving the nuns' blessing directly, but Dimitri's rank allowed for anonymity and in the beginning he'd chosen to make his confessions in the booth out of shyness. But not even the most absent-minded nun could forget someone who confessed so regularly. By now, Byleth would know Dimitri by his voice, by the smell of woodruff preferred by the King's Wardrobe, and of course, by Dimitri's body.
Byleth leaned forward, obscured from Dimitri's view by the lattice and the delicate lace curtain, and pressed his lips against the tip of Dimitri's cock.
'And what of your sins?'
'At night, I think of you,' said Dimitri, his voice catching in his throat when Byleth wrapped his mouth around Dimitri's cock, warm and wet and without warning. 'Of having you. Of making you feel like I do now.'
His mouth full of cock, Byleth made a sound to urge Dimitri to keep speaking, which Dimitri did with great effort considering how distracting the vibrations of Byleth's throat were.
'And what if, instead of the goddess, I worship you?'
Byleth had wrapped one hand around the base of Dimitri's cock and he pressed hard now, pausing from his oral ministrations long enough to say, 'Blasphemy, my lord?'
'Why not? When your blessings are the only thing I know and the goddess remains out of reach?'
'I serve the goddess,' said Byleth. 'What I do, I'm doing in her name.'
'And it doesn't affect you at all?'
There was a pause before Byleth said, 'That's not for me to say.'
The finality in his tone told Dimitri the conversation was over and the time for penance had come.
They hadn't been formally introduced yet and Byleth didn't even know what Dimitri looked like, but he knew exactly where to touch and apply pressure to make Dimitri cry out. Byleth relaxed his throat and Dimitri felt the familiar wet tightness move around his cock. He grabbed the window ledge, biting back a gasp.
Byleth coughed as he released Dimitri and Dimitri felt Byleth's spit trickling down the inside of his thigh.
'Can you speak?' said Byleth.
'Barely,' said Dimitri.
'Then speak to me, my lord.'
'To you?'
'To me.' Byleth went back to his task without elaborating, but his meaning was implicit: this had nothing to do with the ritual.
Dimitri thought of something to say, his mind greatly taxed by the feel of Byleth sucking, his tongue pressing Dimitri against the smooth roof of Byleth's mouth.
'Your lips,' said Dimitri, through clenched teeth, 'were made for kissing.'
Byleth stopped again and Dimitri wished he hadn't opened his mouth after all, none of the distractions that meant Byleth wasn't sucking and licking and kissing his cock. He was a fool.
'And what of this, my lord?' said Byleth, his voice low and dark as he traced invisible circles around Dimitri's balls. Byleth's fingers were surprisingly rough, his calluses catching at Dimitri's skin in a way that made every hair on Dimitri's body stand on end. 'Wouldn't this part of you feel neglected?'
'I can think of many ways to make it useful,' said Dimitri.
Byleth laughed, his breath warm and ticklish against Dimitri's already sensitive skin and almost pushing Dimitri to the very edge.
'Is that so?' said Byleth, licking his lips. The movement made the tip of his tongue brush against Dimitri's cock, soft and wet and Dimitri heard the crack of wood that was his fists closing in too tightly around the window ledge. 'My body isn't my own, you understand. It belongs to the goddess.'
'Perhaps,' said Dimitri, mentally running through the tangled mess of House Blaiddyd's genealogical chart to stave off the sharp tendrils of orgasm deep in his groin. 'But my body is yours, which you can use as you see fit.'
'Then come for me,' said Byleth, wrapping his lips around Dimitri again and lightly nipping–
Dimitri cried out. He felt his balls tighten, the warm sharpness in his gut unleashed as he came into Byleth's willing mouth. 'Saint Seiros.'
'She's not here.' This time, the humour in Byleth's voice was more apparent.
'Next time,' said Dimitri, shivering as Byleth started licking him clean. 'Next time, I'll watch you come undone.'
Byleth was silent for so long Dimitri was sure he was about to get killed–or thrown out of the monastery for the mere suggestion of breaking the rules, which was more likely.
Then Byleth said, 'I look forward to it.'
*