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“Look at you,” Byleth grumbles, breath hot against Dimitri’s earshell. “Already reduced to a needy mess.”
The professor’s words send heat rushing through Dimitri’s body, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. He never expected the usually stoic and controlled professor to talk to him like this, and it’s setting his nerves on fire in the best possible way. He leans into the professor’s touch, his body involuntarily arching against the bookshelf, feeling caged, trapped. He is not wearing any armor tonight, no gauntlets nor cape, just his summer uniform.
“Professor… please, don’t tease me,” he whispers, his hands clenching the fabric of the professor’s cloak. “I- I can’t take much more.”
Byleth cups the swollen tent of Dimitri’s crotch, grip strong and mocking.
“I’ve barely touched you.”
That simple contact is enough to send a jolt of pleasure through Dimitri’s spine, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as his mind spins, his hips bucking involuntarily against the professor’s hand. No one’s ever touched him like this before, and it’s driving him crazy. He feels like he’s barely holding himself together, like he could fall apart at any moment. His hips press forward again, seeking more of it, more friction, more of anything the professor might want to give him.
“Dumb prince,” Byleth taunts, hand fondling him roughly. “Silly little boy.”
Dimitri doesn’t know how the professor is having this effect on him, how he can make him come unraveled with just a few words and a flick of his wrist. The heat pools behind his belly as his eyes flutter shut, his head falling back against the dusty books on the shelf.
“You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Dimitri’s breath hitches at that. He knows that. He knows the professor is right, that he’s shameless and needy and pathetic like this, that he should be more like a nobleman, like the crown prince he was raised to be, and not someone begging for the professor’s scraps and crumbs, but he just can’t help himself.
Byleth snorts, and it sounds mean, so unlike him, derisive.
“So what? You get off when people tell you how much of a pervert you are?”
Dimitri whimpers meekly, his body shuddering as the words wash over him . They are humiliating , scandalous, and yet Dimitri has never been more aroused in his life.
“I-I know, gods, I know—” he sighs, feeling delirious already. “But I can’t… I can’t help it…”
“What’s this? Lowly whore.” The professor squeezes harshly, and Dimitri is so hard it hurts. “You should be thankful I’m even here in the first place.”
Dimitri’s breath stutters as the professor talks down to him, practically shaking with desperation. He wants to fight back, to protest and say that he’s supposed to be dignified and respected, the prince of Faerghus, someone who shouldn’t be reduced to a trembling mess by just a few words. But he can’t deny what the professor is saying, either. He is gross, deplorable, and he’s endlessly grateful that the professor is giving him any sort of attention at all.
He nods feverishly.
“Y-yes, Professor. Thank you. I-I’ll be good, I promise…”
“How are you going to be good? You can barely stand.”
Dimitri doesn’t know. He has no idea how he’s going to live up to the professor’s expectations, but he’ll try his best. He knows he will do anything he can to please him, he has to.
He looks up to the man, eyes watery.
“I-I’ll do anything you want, professor, I swear,” he muses, weak, tongue too thick in his mouth. “I’ll be so good for you. I— whatever you desire… anything you want…”
Byleth appears wholeheartedly unimpressed.
“Don’t make me laugh. I should just leave you here like this for someone else to find.”
Dimitri feels tears pricking at his eyes, his body tensing at the thought of being left like this, wrecked and desperate. He can’t bear that thought, he needs the professor’s care too badly to be abandoned like that. He’s helpless , powerless, completely at the professor’s mercy and hoping he takes pity on him.
“N-no, please! I’ll be good, I swear,” he begs, his voice hoarse and pleading. “I’ll do anything you want, anything you ask. Don’t leave me, please!”
The way Byleth looks down at him, as if he is nothing but a disgusting bug on the side of the road, only there to be trampled by him, makes Dimitri’s fear grow.
“I seriously hope whoever finds you gets a good taste of you,” Byleth spits. “You’d probably let them have their way with you regardless of who they were.”
Dimitri shakes his head fervently, biting back a whimper at the professor’s words. The idea that he’s so miserable, so far gone, that he’d let anyone touch him… Dimitri can’t deny that it is both degrading and exciting, and it only feeds the liquid warmth coursing through his body. He knows he should be repulsed by the thought, that he shouldn’t be enjoying this, yet it makes him squirm and he wants more, as much as it hurts his pride.
“N-no, I wouldn’t!” He nearly chokes with his own saliva.
Byleth’s gloved hand forces him to look up, his fingers sinking painfully into the bone of his jaw.
“Don’t cry, Dimitri. Aren’t you a man? What a waste of a crest.”
Dimitri swallows hard, his eyes clenching shut as he desperately tries to regain some semblance of control. But it’s just so hard, so hard when the professor is so close, everywhere, with his firm grip and his commanding voice. He can’t resist.
Byleth’s gaze gives him a once over, expression unmoved, and Dimitri wants to beg him to stop looking at him, at such a disgraceful sight.
“What do you want to do right now?”
Dimitri’s head spins at the question, torn between his upstanding upbringing and his most base desires. He knows he should say he wants Byleth to let go, for him to stop insulting him like this, but those words never make it out, they clog his throat and stay there, denying him of air.
Instead, he implores, “I-I want to kneel… kneel at your feet…”
Byleth huffs with amusement, and Dimitri doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this, with dark, blown pupils and a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
“Oh, yeah?”
Dimitri aches, his legs almost too weak to keep standing, and yet he manages to push out, breathless, “Y-yes, please… please, let me kneel for you…”
“Hm. Down, then.”
Dimitri doesn’t hesitate— he scrambles to his knees like he was born to do it. Byleth observes him from above, appearing pleased, and Dimitri is ecstatic he is even allowed to look up at him from the floor, where he belongs. In a parody of a loving gesture, Byleth runs a hand through Dimitri’s disheveled hair and massages his scalp slightly. Dimitri’s mind goes positively blank, and all that can escape from his mouth is a soft, needy litany of yesyesyesyes .
The professor takes his time playing with him. He runs his hands through Dimitri’s blond locks and squeezes his cheeks just because he can, the touch both gentle and possessive and making his head swim. Dimitri can’t help the way his eyes flutter at the feeling, how his face automatically goes slack to fit better in the professor’s hold, his mind and body so attuned to the touch that it’s like he melts in his hands. Byleth pinches his cheeks, as if testing the consistency of the flesh, the sensation both slightly painful and utterly delicious, making feel like an owned possession instead of a young man born in royalty. His chest practically purrs in contentment.
“Amazing,” says Byleth, voice low. “Well trained and ready like a good boy.”
Dimitri knows he’s supposed to keep his eyes down, but the compliment, the praise, barely implied and condescending as it is, is just so good, that he finds himself gazing up at the professor with a look of forlorn love . He presses his head forward, chasing the professor’s warmth, desperate to hear more praise, more words of approval, anything that will soothe the burning need within him.
“Please, please say it again. Please say I’m your good boy…”
“You have to earn that.”
The words send a spark through Dimitri, give him the urge to press his thighs together, but he doesn’t. Not yet. He needs to be good, he needs to earn the professor’s praise, no matter what it takes. He needs to hear those words again.
“P-Please, please use me.” His hands come up to the professor’s pants, and he feels like a beggar.
Byleth’s eyelids grow heavy, dangerous. Just like the way he looks on the battlefield moments before taking a life. Dimitri observes, heart lodged in his throat, as the professor takes off his gloves, carefully and torturously slowly, surely enjoying Dimitri’s growing anxiety at the mere sight. The professor’s bare fingers brush against his lips then, and they open naturally, his tongue darting out eagerly to brush against the digits, at the end of his rope for any sort of contact with Byleth’s skin.
“I didn’t even tell you to lick them,” the professor teases. ”What would your friends think of this? Your people? Do you really deserve being royalty when you belong on your knees, mouth wide open?”
A soft gasp escapes Dimitri at the feeling of the professor’s fingers slowly entering his mouth, his lips parting eagerly and his tongue instinctively lapping at the digits as they push inside. He can’t help the way his body trembles at the sensation, how he practically worships the professor’s fingers with his tongue and moans around them, completely overwhelmed. He knows the professor is belittling him, but he loves it anyway, beyond himself that he finally, finally gets to feel those long fingers he’s fantasized so much about, always beneath a layer of thick fabric, always mocking, tempting Dimitri. He abhors those gloves that always denied him of true paradise, of those hands, and now, he gets to offer his mouth for them. He so wishes he could taste them.
Dimitri’s tongue flicks against the professor’s fingers, dragging his shiny lips around them each time the professor withdraws them, his eyes half-lidded and dazed with pleasure. A soft, needy sound escapes him as the professor moves his fingers in and out of his mouth, the sensation stirring the heat within him, making his body burn even more than before.
“I think I need a new boytoy,” Byleth hums, as if talking to himself. “Where could I find one, I wonder?”
Dimitri’s gasps, a pang of urgency and jealousy shooting through him at the idea of the professor finding someone else. He knows he probably doesn’t mean it, that he is just having fun by making him despair, but that doesn’t stop the way his body reacts, a possessive growl-like sound creeping up his chest before he can stop it.
Byleth arches a thin eyebrow at him, and Dimitri shrinks, immediately remembering his place. He whines, sadly lapping at the man’s fingers.
“N-no… pwease…” he blabbers around Byleth’s fingers, genuinely sorry for his small outburst. “D-dwon’t look for anyone else… I can be your boytoy, Pwofessor…”
Byleth snorts.
“You? You don’t even know your place. I doubt you can even keep a man satisfied.”
Dimitri’s shoulders sag, and he feels small, insufficient. He knows he’s arrogant yet not good enough, not experienced enough, and that the professor seeking what he needs somewhere else is only natural if Dimitri doesn’t cut it, but some part of him wants to prove himself, to prove that he can learn, that he can be everything the professor is owed if he gives him a chance. So he tries, the pain of his knees on the stone floor barely noticeable.
Byleth allows it for a while. Dimitri enjoys every second, the tumultuous feeling in his heart receding into a peaceful bliss as his brain focuses on a single, simple task that can make the professor happy. He is joyfully keeping the professor’s fingers warm and moist, sucking on them and bobbing his head so the man doesn’t have to do any of the work, when the digits disappear and don’t come back, and Dimitri cries out, wrecked that he is unable to keep servicing Byleth’s divine hands the way they deserve.
Was he not enough again?
He looks up, shivering and eyes watery.
“Where do you belong, Dimitri?” the professor asks him.
Dimitri knows what the professor wants to hear, what the correct answer is.
“Under you, Professor… I belong under you.”
Byleth groans, pleased. He swipes a thumb over Dimitri’s lips, covered in spit.
“That’s a really good answer, baby.”
Dimitri shivers at the praise, the professor’s words stroking the heat within him until he can barely think.
“Show me your tongue.”
Dimitri obeys, his head spinning as he parts his lips, his tongue darting out to rest against his lips, wet and pink and waiting for the professor’s approval.
Byleth’s breath stutters audibly. Eyes fixed on Dimitri, he gets a hold of his tongue as if to inspect it between two fingers, the sensation unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Dimitri opens his mouth a little wider, allowing the professor to examine it and play with it as he pleases.
“Look at you, you just want to be ruined.”
Dimitri almost moans. He knows he should say that he is a noble and untainted and supposed to remain that way, but instead all that comes out is a soft sigh and a nearly intelligible, ‘Yes, please. ’
Byleth lets go of his tongue, leaving his mouth painfully empty.
“Get to work, then.”
Dimitri takes a deep, shaky breath. He reaches up to undo the professor’s pants, his movements slow and trembling, not for fear of being reprimanded, but for the anticipation of what is to come.
Byleth’s hard cock springs free in his gentle hold, and the prince is enamored with the heat of it, the smell, the weight of it in his hand. His tongue peeks out to lick at his lips, his mouth already watering. The professor hums with approval. Dimitri knows he hasn’t done much yet, but it’s so important to him to hear that little sound, the small acknowledgement that he is obeying correctly, and that does just as much for his aching body and mind as the words themselves have.
Dimitri doesn’t know how to go about it, mainly because he has never… well, done anything like this. His loins chant for him to get the throbbing member into his mouth, but the remaining brain cells in his head tell him to lap at it until he becomes so acquaintanced with it he can conjure its shape and touch with precision later, together with its taste, dead taste buds be damned .
Apparently, Byleth’s famous patience doesn’t extend to his pleasure, because he pushes Dimitri away, grunting with annoyance.
“Do I always have to tell you what to do? Must you be so useless?”
It’s humiliating to be called useless, to be told to take the lead when he’s used to taking orders, but at the same time, it somehow pleases Dimitri tremendously to feel useless, to be reminded his head is empty and that he is worthless if he doesn’t have the professor to tell him what to do.
Byleth takes his arousal in his hand, strokes himself slowly, purposely. Dimitri’s eyes can’t look away.
“You are going to open your stupid whore mouth.”
Dimitri’s mind reels at the professor’s demand, every doubt and thought in his mind going up in smoke and his mouth falling open at the harshness of the command.
“That’s more like it.”
Dimitri already feels drunk off the praise and the way the professor looks at him, as if he is a piece of meat for the taking and nothing more. Dimitri pliantly opens his mouth wider, letting his tongue loll out, desperate to prove himself, the urge for approbation greater. Byleth touches him again, a soft gasp escaping his parted lips as the professor’s fingers brush the back of his head. Slowly, he pushes his cock into Dimitri’s awaiting mouth.
Completely ecstatic, he carefully closes his lips around the cockhead, keeping his teeth out of the way and putting his tongue to work. The skin is so delicate there, so soft, and a new door opens for Dimitri then and there, on his hurting knees, shaking body, trousers impossibly tight, with another man’s cock in his mouth. It’s like he discovers a hunger he didn’t know he had, an instinct in his gut that directs his movements. He hums softly around the professor’s length, dragging his lips over it as he draws back, a hand coming up to stroke what he can’t get into his mouth. Distractedly, he can’t believe he is so lucky as to be here, that the professor is so kind as to allow him to be slurping and drooling all over his cock. There surely can’t be anything bad in the world if this happiness exists, muses Dimitri, delirious, if he knows his place to return to is here.
He laps at Byleth’s dick as if he could actually savor it, closing his eyes and trying to imagine what the taste must be like, his body burning with need as he listens to the professor’s sounds, trying to anticipate what he wants and then acting on instinct, his efforts fueled by the aching for praise.
Overhead, Byleth scoffs.
“I wouldn’t pay any money for your mouth.”
Dimitri’s heart sinks as he hears that. He’s not doing good, he’s not pleasing him, the only thing he has to offer, and yet he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong, doesn’t know how to correct the situation. He has to be worth the professor’s time. Otherwise he’ll replace Dimitri, and he’ll lose his home—
The hand on the back of his neck forces him closer, and Dimitri gasps in surprise, his body shuddering at the commanding hold. The professor shoves his length into Dimitri’s mouth, and for a moment, he feels it touching the back of his throat. He can’t breathe, and it hurts as his body tries to accommodate the whole girth, but the professor keeps him there. Dimitri whimpers, beginning to feel dizzy from the lack of air.
It lasts for a couple of seconds before the professor starts using Dimitri’s mouth in earnest. The grip on his hair keeps his head in place as he forcefully thrusts into his throat, little regard for how desperately Dimitri’s fingers cling to his thighs or the tears that stream down his face, and Dimitri’s head is so empty, so up in heaven, heart-eyed, that he just takes it, unable to complain or to fight when he can’t think of anything better than this. There’s no place he’d rather be than here, being useful and servicing the professor like this, even if it’s just as as hole to fuck. He moans, voice broken by the punishing pace, lungs burning, and he feels so loved, so utterly used and worn, that he snaps and cums in his pants, untouched, gagging and gurgling around his professor’s cock.
He faintly hears Byleth swear, and then a thick load of semen floods his throat, a load that he desperately attempts to drink all, every single precious drop, albeit he fails again, feeling it dribbling down his chin. The professor yanks from Dimitri’s hair to get him off his cock, and Dimitri falls onto his hands, gasping and coughing for much needed air, his lower body trembling after his own orgasm and his head reeling from how he wasn’t prepared for any of it. As Dimitri gets his breathing back under control, he looks up at the professor, his eyes red and craving for appraisal.
Byleth is panting, color high in his cheeks.
“You have a good throat, I'll give you that.”
Dimitri’s eyes go wide, pleading wordlessly for more, wanting to be told how good he is and that he’s pleased the professor. But Byleth runs a hand up his dark hair, already losing interest.
“But you couldn’t even do it by yourself so don’t expect me to bother with you ever again.”
Dimitri’s stomach wrenches at the harshness of the professor’s words, panic flaring in his stomach. He’s failed once more, and the idea of never being allowed this closeness again, never being able to have this again, is too much for him to handle.
“N-no, please!” he begs with a hoarse voice. “I’ll do better, I’ll be good for you. Please, please give me another chance!”
“And what are you precisely going to do with that other chance? Waste it, like you always do?”
Dimitri flinches, knowing inside that Byleth is just stating facts. He is useless, he has no talent whatsoever or any redeeming trait, he can’t obey or listen and he doesn’t deserve another opportunity. But the need to prove himself is stronger, the need to be good even though he knows he can’t be drives him to crawl closer.
“I’ll be better, I’ll learn, I’ll do whatever you tell me, so please...”
“Then clean your own mess. You can handle at least that much, can’t you?”
Dimitri throws himself into the task right away. He laps Byleth’s cum stained cock clean, sucking and scooping with his tongue every and any pearly drop and excessive spit that may linger. When he is done, he licks his own lips and wipes his flushed face so he is somewhat presentable again. Although he must look disheveled and used, and that knowledge makes Dimitri’s crotch begin to feel warm again.
The professor doesn’t comment on his performance. He silently tucks himself back into his trousers and turns on his heels, then sits at the ample chair by his desk.
“Undress. You don’t need that many clothes.”
Dimitri’s eyes go wide, his heart already racing at the order. Undressing means that something else is going to happen, but he doesn't know what, if the professor is going to allow him to have another chance. He complies either way, his fingers shaking as he sheds his clothes quickly, stripping himself bare before the professor.
Dimitri feels naked and vulnerable, knowing the man is sizing him up and judging him, deciding if he’s even worth the trouble or if he’s just hopeless.
“Get here. Crawling.”
The floor is cold and hard, and his legs hurt already, but Dimitri hastily obeys all the same. None of that matters except for pleasing the professor and showing him that Dimitri can be worthy of him.
Dimitri kneels between the professor’s spread legs, trying not to squirm or shift, wanting to be good and wait for the professor to decide how to use him next. Byleth is silent, observing Dimitri with an unreadable expression. The uncertainty is driving the boy mad, wanting desperately to please in whatever way the man demands.
Byleth thumbs at Dimitri’s abused lips, and the slight burn of the touch is both painful and pleasurable. He closes his eyes and whimpers lowly, the sound so soft it’s barely audible, his body shivering a little as he waits for more, waits for instruction or punishment, anything at all if it means the professor is going to keep touching him.
The pad of the professor’s finger goes down his jaw to his bare throat, where his hand settles around it. Very still, Dimitri swallows, the motion making his Adam’s apple bob against the professor’s hand, and he feels a tingle of heat and something like fear running through him.
The hand on his throat tightens ever so slightly. It doesn’t hurt, but Dimitri can’t help the way his body responds to the threat of force, the rush of lust and shame at the knowledge the professor could manhandle him easily like this. Even worse, Dimitri is completely naked and at Byleth’s mercy because he put himself in this position. If the professor were to decide that he is better off dead, it’d be on Dimitri.
Byleth hums.
“I could snap your neck, if I wanted to.”
Dimitri doesn’t respond, knowing better than to speak, his eyes glued to the professor’s as he waits, breath halted.
“You know what every man thinks when they look at you, don’t you?”
Dimitri opens his mouth to respond, but hesitates as the weight of what the professor is saying registers. All the looks, the jeers and insults, the things people whispered when they thought he was out of earshot.
“Yes, I think so.”
“I don’t think you do. They look at you and see a blond himbo whose only remarkable achievement is being somewhat easy on the eyes and even easier to corrupt.”
The words sting, even if he’s heard the things whispered so often before. It’s different to hear it from the professor, the man he adores and wants desperately to please and prove himself to, to hear the same cruel insults and know he can’t deny them or change them.
“Worst part is, you are so desperate for attention you’d let them do anything to you.”
Dimitri’s gut twists, shame and desire warring wildly in his belly. It’s embarrassing to feel such a strong rush of heat at being called out so clearly, knowing that the man sees through him perfectly, that he knows exactly how pathetic Dimitri is.
“Am I right or not?”
Dimitri nods silently, his cheeks burning. His body is trembling again, his heart beating furiously, accepting the affront and the truth behind it, too desperate to deny it at all, not even willing to voice his mortification and chagrin to the man he wants to please so badly.
The professor pats his thigh lightly, and Dimitri rushes over, closer, his cheek resting on the professor’s thigh as he swallows down the humiliation of being treated like an obedient dog. The weight of the professor’s hand on his head feels heavenly, the gesture so gentle and soft it makes him sigh with relief after being degraded like that.
“You are so much prettier when you obey.”
Dimitri closes his eyes, the small praise making his heart full in his chest. The need to please washes away all his insecurities, all the pain, and he nuzzles against the professor’s thigh, wanting to earn more words of affirmation.
The professor’s fingers comb through his hair, and Dimitri shudders in delight. He can’t help it, the small movements feel so comforting and soothing that Dimitri tilts his head into the professor’s hand desperately, needing more of that gentle contact. He can’t bring himself to speak either, his brain and body too focused on how wonderful it feels to be touched like this, to be pet like a good boy.
Sadly, it all ends suddenly. The professor gets to work on something on his desk and ignores Dimitri altogether. The abrupt lack of attention leaves Dimitri a little dazed. The satisfaction from the professor’s gentle touches gone from one moment to the next, Dimitri finds himself in a weird limbo of confusion and need, not even sure how to get the professor’s eyes on him again. He fidgets on the floor, a little uncertain, but trying to play nice and be still and not interrupt the professor’s work, though he keeps glancing at the man every so often, hoping he’ll look at him again and give him more praise and pets.
It doesn’t work. For the longest time, the professor either forgets about him or pretends he is not even there.
Dimitri sinks down on the floor, the feeling of abandonment from the professor’s inattention cold like a bucket of ice water. He curls up by the man's feet, suddenly feeling very stupid and like an unwanted dog, his body trembling slightly as he understands that he is not going to get anymore of the praise or gentle touch he desperately wanted. He swallows against the shame of knowing that he’s not even worth the professor’s attention anymore, trying to sit up straight and not let a small whine escape him.
Some time passes, and Dimitri can almost picture an imaginary blond tail of his own wagging sadly.
“What a patient boy.”
The professor’s voice rising again in the silence startles Dimitri, his eyes going wide and his body shuddering as the praise washes over him like a soothing balm. He looks up at the professor, hopeful that the man is going to speak to him some more, but doesn’t move at all besides that, wanting to behave.
Taking pity on him, the professor reaches out and scratches behind Dimitri’s ear. Dimitri can’t help the little shiver of pleasure that runs through him at the feeling; it’s so good it leaves him breathless, the small show of affection like an electric shock to his brain, making his head buzz pleasantly. He leans into the scratch a little, and his head feels fuzzy and happy.
Dimitri closes his eyes, aware but uncaring that he must look silly chasing his master’s touch and love like this, nuzzling up against the professor’s hand like the dog he is.
The professor chuckles, the sound a bit fond, much more familiar to what Dimitri is used to from the man, and it makes Dimitri's stomach do a little flip. It’s so childish, how he derives joy and pride from it when the professor is giving him attention , but Dimitri has long ago accepted this is just what he is. And Byleth has, too, because he wouldn’t be here otherwise, humoring him.
“Get up here,” the professor says, and Dimitri comes back to life.
The boy scrambles up to his feet and then situates himself on the professor’s lap, keeping his back to the man. He’s a little awkward, trying to fit both of them on the chair, but he manages. He loves this the most, his dazed mind says, he loves being close to Byleth like this, with his entire body.
When the professor’s hands wander over his arms, over his torso, unhurried and exploring, Dimitri has to suppress a moan. He tries not to squirm, wanting to hold still and show how good he is, but he’s so sensitive to the touch he keeps shifting, little gasps and pants falling from his lips every couple of minutes as the professor brushes over parts of him that are always covered by layers of fabric.
“You want a reward for being a good boy?” Byleth asks into his ear.
Dimitri swallows, his mouth a little dry. He nods, wanting so badly to be good, needing to hear more praise and knowing it will fix whatever it is that is wrong with him.
Slowly, Byleth's hands hook under Dimitri’s knees and part his legs, leaving them like that over his own knees while he rubs at the boy’s plush thighs. Dimitri feels exposed, with his entire body flushed pink on display, and the touch is maddening, so close to where he most desperately wants it but not quite there. His ass presses back against the man unconsciously as those hands run along his inner thighs, massaging the muscles, the pressure nearly where he wants it he can’t help but whimper at how good the teasing feels. He is getting hard again.
Byleth touches him until he gets used to it, no rush whatsoever, just rewarding Dimitri like he said he would.
Then, those hands come up to Dimitri’s chest, and the boy gasps, feeling like a bare nerve. The professor rubs his chest, fingers delicately brushing sensitive nipples every once in a while, and it all makes his head spin. He wants more, can’t help but chase it, his body arching so his chest is pressed into the professor’s cupped hands, his head falling back against the man’s shoulder as soft sounds fall from his lips.
“Please… please, I need it so badly… Feels s-so good… please...”
He doesn’t know what he is begging for, can’t picture a clear image in his mushy brain, but he just wants . More of this. More of everything else. Whatever Byleth feels like giving him. Anything at all.
The professor’s kneading Dimitri’s chest grows rougher, squeezing his pecs, pushing them together and flicking meanly his pink nipples. Dimitri can feel himself melting into a mess against the professor’s chest, desperate and lost to the sensation.
“Are you sure you are not a girl Dimitri? Getting so worked up when I touch your tits.”
“N-no, I’m a g-good boy, I’m a… A-ah!”
Byleth pinches his nipples, and Dimitri writhes in his lap, the little jolt of pain making pleasure more intense, making it very hard to think, his legs tensing over the man’s knees.
One hand comes down Dimitri’s belly, touch butterfly light, raising goosebumps in its wake.
“So you are saying… you can’t get pregnant…? No matter how much I try to make it happen?”
The question makes his head reel, the hands back at caressing his thighs and his stomach in a way that makes his body flush hot, a small stutter falling from his lips. He forgot what he was about to say. His mind is blank from the pleasure, and that outrageous idea of him getting pregnant makes his stomach heat up like it’s on fire.
Byleth snickers lowly in his ear.
“Just look at you. You are already thinking about it.”
Dimitri shudders, feeling a fresh hot wave of humiliation lapping at his erect cock, forgotten between his legs. His head is swimming from the thought alone, the heat inside him now like molten steel, his thighs clenching as he tries to get a handle on himself. But it feels impossible right now, the more Byleth touches him the less he can think, like the man is taking control of his mind with every brush of his hands against his warm skin.
“I wonder how many tries it would take for me to get you pregnant.”
The question makes Dimitri’s stomach churn in a mixture of heat and shame, the mental image of the professor taking him again and again coming unbidden into his mind. How good would it be? For the professor to have a goal so impossible in mind that he keeps trying and trying, over and over again, regardless of how much Dimitri begs for him to stop?
He can’t speak, and so Byleth huffs.
“Useless again, Dimitri.”
The boy cries at the word, eyes rolling up into his skull a little. He knows he is useless, good for nothing at all except taking pleasure and going braindead.
“S-sorry, please…”
“Please what? Dumb doll.”
Dimitri’s mind fuzzes out, every semblance of actual thoughts disappearing without a trace. He can’t think and doesn’t want to anymore, just wants to be good and do as he’s told, the word doll making his stomach clench in need with a heat that is overwhelming. But Byleth won’t give him anything if he doesn’t ask for it, so he has to swallow the excess of saliva, some already escaping out the corner of his mouth, down his throat and nearly reaching his chest.
“P-lease, please, I-I don’t know,” he repeats, because he seriously doesn’t know anything at all. “Please, I’ll do anything…!”
“What if I told you to abdicate and be my full time doll wife? My needy toy?”
Dimitri’s cock aches at the thought. Giving up his responsibilities and being the professor’s obedient toy instead takes up every corner in his mind. With his legs spread like that, he feels himself opening like a flower, panting.
“Yes, yes .”
The professor nuzzles at his neck. Dimitri gasps at the feeling of the professor’s parted lips there, his hot breaths, and his head tilts automatically to give the man more access, a needy whine falling from his lips.
“You don’t need that powerful crest anyway, do you?” Byleth rasps. “It’s more likely that I just end up just knocking you up.”
Dimitri nods feverishly, dizzy with need, desperately wanting to be at the man’s mercy. He doesn’t want a kingdom, he doesn’t care for the crown’s legacy. It must feel amazing, his loins chant, deranged, to be the professor’s fuck hole and keep his cock nice and warm until he gets bored of him.
“Yes...! I don’t need it, I want to do what you want… I just want to be yours…!”
The professor chuckles, dark.
“Good boy.”
Dimitri doesn’t have time to enjoy that sultry laugh. Finally, Byleth’s hand comes to circle his swollen cock, the relief of finally being touched there so good it’s almost painful, so great it makes Dimitri shout.
“P-professor! Please! Need it so badly…!”
The professor’s free hand comes up to cover Dimitri’s mouth.
“Shut up already. You are turning me off with your mindless babble.”
It’s not true. Dimitri can feel Byleth’s engorged erection beneath his ass, so warm and so hard and right there . The boy utters a muffled whine, the firm hand over his mouth effectively shutting him up, and the loss of control of his own mouth, stripped from him, makes his brain melt like putty.
The professor’s strokes are merciless. They drive through him like lightning.
“You look better like this. No worries, braindead and eyes empty,” Byleth whispers, his teeth grazing his earlobe.
Dimitri can’t even process the words anymore. His whole body is on fire, his mind blank as pleasure washes over him in violent waves, no respite, moaning like a common whore against Byleth’s firm palm. He is too far away and too far gone to care about anything beyond the man’s touch. The professor's hand moves so fast and so rough Dimitri can see only stars through the pain.
Byleth grunts.
“You want to cum, bitch?”
Dimitri nods desperately, the pleading whimper he lets out against the hand over his mouth not even like a human sound, his mind too far gone with pleasure to do anything but beg and whine, his hips rocking desperately into the professor’s grip.
“Then do it. Quit wasting my time.”
Dimitri lets out a helpless whine that is drown by the professor’s hand, his body going taut as every inch of him trembles violently with the force of his orgasm. The pleasure and the pain of the professor’s hand stroking him so carelessly through it makes him cry out again and again, the feeling so intense he thinks he just might pass out from it, waves of heat coursing through him as he squirms on the man’s lap.
He keeps jerking him off even after Dimitri’s has finished, uncaring of the boy’s tears.
“Hush, just take it. Just accept your new place.”
Dimitri whimpers and begs for him to keep going, to please stop because it hurts, to please let him die, his body shuddering and writhing, too sensitive but too deep into this to really protest, lost in the heat and pleasure as he takes what the professor is giving him, submitting to him completely, too weak to do anything except let himself be used.
Then it ends, with a last couple of strong strokes that pull from the foreskin of Dimitri’s cock, then push it up, milking it for all its worth, until it stops.
Dimitri all but collapses, completely spent and going limp, exhausted beyond words. His throat stings with every heaving breath, the pleasure having burned his mind to ash preventing him from forming a single thought.
It feels so good letting the professor take over.
He hears Byleth hum, bringing up his hand covered in Dimitri’s spent.
“What are you going to do about this?”
Dimitri moans weakly at the sight, his eyes a little hazy as he tries to focus on the fingers in front of him. He doesn’t know what he is doing when he opens his mouth obediently, tongue acting on instinct alone as it dutifully cleans Byleth’s fingers just like he did with his dick.
“ Good fucking boy , Dimitri.”
Dimitri whimpers at the praise, smiling tiredly in bliss as he lets the professor’s fingers slip out of his mouth again. Embers of heat and pleasure are still there, making it hard for him to focus on anything except how nice it feels to be his professor’s good boy.
The professor kisses a trail up his neck, hands softly massaging Dimitri’s body, kneading his muscles into going lax.
“Good boy, baby,” he muses, and he sounds so different, so very caring and patient as he always is. “You did such a good job. I loved you so much. Rest up. You’ve earned it.”
The praise and gentle touch feels like heaven to Dimitri, who lets out a sigh against the professor’s chest. He is like a ragdoll, too tired to move or do much else other than stay there under those hands, needing Byleth’s contact and praise and kindness like he needs air.
“Are you alright, love?”
Byleth doesn’t stop pampering kisses up the side of his face, behind his ears, neck, shoulders, bringing one of Dimitri’s hands up to kiss the palm and the knuckles one by one. Dimitri lets out a very feeble chuckle at the tender touches and kisses, his body easing fully into it and melting against the professor, just relishing in the gentle hands and lips against his sweaty skin, his mind too much in a residual haze of pleasure to fully comprehend anything just yet.
“I’m fine… that was…”
The professor huffs, amused, and it sounds like the discreet laugh Dimitri has always loved so much.
“It was what?”
“Good… Felt so good.”
The professor nuzzles against his ear, still stroking his body, easing the tension away.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You’ve been so tense lately.”
Honestly, Dimitri can’t really remember what he was so worried about. It all feels so distant now, like earthly problems simply do not apply to him anymore. He feels too tired to keep himself up right now, so he doesn’t mind the professor’s support. He has to swallow and take a few moments to find his voice.
“I guess I have. You always know how to take care of me.”
Byleth surrounds him in a candid embrace.
“Should I move you to the sofa? Or are you more comfortable here?”
Dimitri snuggles into the professor’s chest, too drained, loose and content to even think of moving now. His whole body feels heavy with exhaustion, so he just wants to stay in Byleth’s arms and relax. The professor carefully moves Dimitri's legs so they hang over the armrest of the chair and he can hug him more easily, letting Dimitri rest his head on his shoulder.
Dimitri lets out a happy little sigh at the feel of the professor’s fingers in his hair, just loving to listen to his voice and how safe and happy the sound alone makes him feel. Having been worked over so roughly and feeling so tired should probably make him at least a little embarrassed, but there’s nothing in his fuzzy, pleasure-filled mind except the professor and how good it feels to be taken care of like this.
Then, the professor pulls him up into his arms, carrying him over to the sofa.
“You are going to get a cold if you don’t cover, Dimitri.”
Dimitri whines a bit as he’s moved, his body missing the professor’s warmth and touch before he’s wrapped up in a blanket. It feels nice, though he lets out a little noise of protest anyway. Between the professor and a blanket he’ll choose the former any day of the week.
Byleth chuckles as he brings over a glass of water and sits close next to Dimitri.
“Drink this for me?”
Dimitri looks up at the professor, his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy, but nods anyway, his throat sore from how much he used his voice. He reaches out with a trembling hand to take the glass, bringing it to his lips, drinking a few sips until the water is gone. Some drops escape at the corners of his mouth and slide down his chin.
The professor tenderly wipes those stray drops, taking the glass from him.
“Are you hungry?”
Dimitri shakes his head sleepily, his stomach twisting just at the thought of food right now.
“Not really. I don’t want anything yet.”
“Alright.”
The professor scoots closer and throws an arm over Dimitri’s shoulders to bring him against his chest.
“Let’s rest up, okay? “
“Mmmm… sounds nice.”
Dimitri nuzzles into the professor’s shoulder, fatigue overcoming him as he slumps into the man’s side, his breathing going deep and even as he finally falls into a light sleep, his mind drifting along with the comfort of the professor’s warm presence right at his side.
Some time later, Dimitri slowly wakes up, his body warm and feeling a lot better than before, his mind still a little hazy from the sleep but clearing up more and more with each passing second. Byleth is still holding him close, reading a book while his free hand gently plays with Dimitri’s hair. The boy hums as he presses his face against the professor’s shoulder, one hand slipping under the professor’s robes to feel the man’s warm skin under his palm. He’s not even sure what he’s doing, just that he suddenly wants to feel the man’s skin against his.
“Hey,” Byleth greets him.
Dimitri smiles.
“Hey. How long was I out?”
“About an hour. How did you sleep?
“Good.“
The professor places a kiss to his forehead. Dimitri’s heart stutters a little at the feeling of those lips brushing against his skin.
“I’m glad. You know you can stay here for as long as you want to.”
“Mmmm… you feel nice. Your voice, your hands, everything… I could stay here forever.”
Byleth smiles, seemingly finding him funny. Dimitri looks up at him with a pouting look, though there’s not much force behind it for it to really have any effect. Instead, he moves so he’s half curled on the professor’s lap, his whole body warm and content and relaxed as he snuggles closer.
The professor puts his book down and welcomes him with open arms.
“I’m just happy to see you so relaxed.”
“It’s thanks to you.”
He just stays there, breathing in the other man’s scent and relishing in the warmth coming from where their bodies are pressed together.
“Going back to sleep?”
“You do make a comfortable pillow.”
Dimitri gently twists a lock of the professor’s hair around his fingers, fascinated by the way it curls, admiring just how soft it feels under his touch. He idly runs a hand through the man’s hair, playing and messing it up a bit, enjoying the way it looks now that it’s so completely disheveled.
The professor brings Dimitri closer and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips. Dimitri leans into it, his heart beating in his chest, yet feeling a little sad when the professor pulls away and reminds him of something he isn’t even remotely interested in right now.
“I need you to eat something. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
“I still don’t feel hungry though…”
“It’s been a while. Let’s go get you something.”
Dimitri ponders his options in his head for a moment, but between staying here on Byleth’s lap, enjoying tender touches and possibly getting to sneak in a few kisses, and going out of his office… It's obvious what his choice is. He gives the professor his best puppy eyes, trying to guilt him into keeping pampering him.
“Do I have to?”
The professor scoffs. He does seem amused, though.
“Yes. You went through quite the exertion earlier. So it’s not up for discussion.”
Dimitri pouts, not really having any good excuses when the professor’s bringing out the ‘taking care of you’-voice, knowing fully well that he probably can’t argue against him. His stomach gives a little roll at the thought of having to eat, and he lets out a little sigh.
“Maybe something light.”
Dimitri is still somewhat unenthusiastic about the whole thing, but he knows the other man is not going to give up until he gets something into his system. He reluctantly uncurls himself from the professor’s lap, stretching stiff limbs and neck as he gets properly upright again.
He looks up at the window and sees how dark it is outside, noticing just now how much time has clearly passed since he got here in the afternoon.
He turns to the professor, wanting to ask about the hour, but then he notices that Byleth seems a bit uncomfortable.
“Professor? What’s wrong?”
Byleth’s eyes come to him, and his lips press into a thin line. He looks uncharacteristically hesitant. After a moment, he places a hand over Dimitri’s arm, reassuring.
“I know I probably don’t even have to bring this up, but…”
Dimitri frowns. Unconsciously, he takes a hold of the professor’s hand in his.
“What is it?”
Byeth’s cheeks gain a pink blush, and his gaze cowers from the boy for a second.
“You know that none of that was true, right? Everything I said to you while we were…?”
Dimitri understands right away. He means about all the demeaning things the professor said during their time being intimate. Dimitri gently squeezes the man’s hand, smiling softly at him.
“I know it wasn’t real. You didn’t mean it.”
The professor nods, very seriously.
“I didn’t. Not a single word. You looked like you enjoyed it a lot so I kept playing along but…” he sighs, frustrated with himself. “You know how much I treasure you, don’t you?”
Dimitri’s heart flutters at that. Byleth is not a very vocal person, as a matter of fact, Dimitri only ever listens to his voice so much whenever he is teaching lectures or… well, as he recently learned, in a sexual context. So he knows first hand how much he struggles to put his feelings into words.
He looks into Byleth’s eyes, returning the other man’s serious look with one of his own, wanting to make it clear that there is nothing to worry about.
“Of course I know. It was me who asked you to say those things. It’s alright.”
It takes a second, but the professor sighs, visibly relieved.
“I’m sorry I made you sit at my feet. I hated every second. I just wanted to cradle you in my arms.”
Dimitri blushes at the mere memory. He really liked that part, loved that sight of the kind professor he loves so much showing him he was so below him he wasn’t worth his time, it only made the payoff even better, but he understands where Byleth is coming from. He has never been a cruel person, quite the opposite.
“It’s all good,” he says, trying for a light tone. “I’m sorry you didn’t like doing something like that, but I won’t lie, I definitely enjoyed it.”
Dimitri is feeling a bit bashful at the admission, but then Byleth gently pulls him into his arms, hugs him tightly, as tightly as he can without it being painful. Dimitri goes willingly into the embrace, letting himself be wrapped up in warm, strong arms, sighing as he’s surrounded by the other man’s scent.
“I want to make you feel good, and cared for, and whatever you need,” muses Byleth. “But please never hesitate to say anything whenever you don’t like something. I could never hurt you.”
Dimitri buries his face against the professor’s chest, hiding his blushing face as he hugs the man back, feeling safe and cared for already.
“I know you’d never hurt me, I trust you completely. I promise I’ll say something if I need to.”
Dimitri is extremely grateful for the professor accepting all his strange desires without any judgment at all. He is perfectly aware that most people would consider him weird for wanting the things that he wants, but he feels like he’s found a safe space in the professor. Someone he can be open and vulnerable with and don’t be judged for his desires, but encouraged and supported in them.
Dimitri stays in his embrace for a long moment, before he finally gathers together enough courage to tell Byleth that this means a lot to him.
“Thank you for being so accepting. Despite me being… troublesome. And strange.”
Byleth sighs against his hair. He sounds a bit tired.
“Please just don’t make me hit you.”
Dimitri laughs, finding that genuinely funny.
“I’ll think about that.”
“ Dimitri .”
The boy shakes his head. He is mostly kidding, but he does wonder how soon he can ask Byleth about putting a leash and a collar on him.