Work Text:
Their body rocks back and forth ever so slightly. As if they are losing balance, the wooden flooring is cold against their feet. They stand with a candle in their hand, the flame burning being the only sound they can hear aside from the sound of footsteps creeping towards their room. Byleth shivers, if you’d ask why they would probably respond with the fact they are half naked in a cold, dark bedroom. The anticipation of tonight’s visitor has them eager, or as eager as someone like Byleth can muster. The footsteps grow closer, louder even. Not loud enough for anyone but Byleth to hear though, this visitor is only for them. They place their free hand on the handle, as the footsteps grow loudest they stop right in front of Byelth’s door. They open it without even waiting for a knock, they already know who it is.
The small flame illuminates the two. Byleth’s usually round, soft, and inviting features morph into something uncanny. The harsh shadows created by the navy strands that cover their face are exaggerated by the candlelight. The most visible thing about Byleth is their piercing gaze that bore holes into their midnight visitor.
“Someone’s eager, aren’t they?” The voice is quiet and hoarse. From the source of the voice extends a hand that cups the left side of Byleth’s face. The hand is large, cold, and covered in calluses. Quite fitting given who it belongs to. Byleth doesn’t respond to the question, only focusing the soft stroking motions of the man’s thumb on their cheek. He steps closer and into their personal space and the candlelight. His face is easier to discern yet much harder to look at directly. He has a scar cutting through the middle of his face, but that’s not what captivated Byleth. The warm hues of the flame reflect off his hazel eyes; it makes them look as if they’re glowing.
“You should close the door before someone sees us in here Miklan.” Byleth says plainly as they break contact with him to go place the candle back on the nightstand. He only grunts in response and they hear the door click shut behind them.
As Byleth’s back is still turned they are pulled into an embrace, with Miklan wrapping his arms around their waist and planting small kisses along the crook of their neck.
~~~
“I fuckin’ hate Faerghus.” Byleth says in between the love bites they give him along the edges of his jaw, slowly moving towards the planes of his chest. Instead of a shooting back with snark he just lets out a groan, which is a reply in its own right. A large hand tangles its way in Byleth’s hair and drags them back up to where their faces meet. Navy hair partially framing Byleth’s face and the rest wrapped tightly in Miklan’s firm grasp. “Yet you keep coming back…” His voice smug as his half-lidded eyes lock onto Byleth’s lips.
With his fist still in their hair, Miklan repositions them with ease. Miklan sitting up while Byleth straddles his lap, their head forcibly tilted upward. Their hands caress the redhead’s face, tracing the large scar starting from the top of his right eye to the left of his jaw. Byleth always did have some morbid attraction to the wound, and what it represents. The possible story of how it came to be. Growing uncomfortable with the “affection” Miklan crashes his lips into theirs. It never ceased to amaze them how soft his lips were given how rough the rest of his exterior is. His teeth knocked against theirs as he sloppy bit their bottom lip, his free hand grabbing their hip so hard it’d h̶o̶p̶e̶f̶u̶l̶l̶y̶ bruise.
Every grunt, gasp, or flat-out moan he could wring from Byleth only spurred him on more. Between the two of them he was always more needy in bed then Byleth was. Eventually the two remembered they needed to breathe. Miklan drops his hand from their hair to their other hip, softly caressing the skin. The room is silent aside from the howling wind outside and the pair’s deep breaths. Byleth’s gaze is intense as they stare into his eyes, he shifts his downwards. They move in close again to cup his face in their hands and force eye contact, “You know I love you?” Byleth murmurs inches away from his face. The reaction is immediate as he tenses up. He mutters some inaudibly and tries to look elsewhere only to have Byleth force eye contact once more, this time a bit rougher. “You must not have heard me, don’t worry I’ll repeat myself. Do you know I love you?” Their voice is more commanding, as they hold his gaze with unwavering intensity.
They know he hates it. Being told something like that so directly. So easily. It riles him up and he starts trembling. He stutters out nonsense until he finally replies with, “Y-you know I can’t say it back like this.” And Byleth does know this, how could they not know that in the throws of intimacy they could bring this abrasive beast to tears with a simple three words. Three honest words. They like repeating it over and over again until he returns their confession through choked back sobs. “Say it back.” Is all he gets along with a soft peck to his scar. His face goes red with embarrassment, eyes growing shiny with tears as he really struggles to turn his face away from Byleth’s surprisingly strong grip.
The much larger man whines in frustration as he gets overstimulated from the combination of Byleth’s fingers digging into his skin, their unrelenting gaze, and verbal i̶n̶t̶e̶r̶r̶o̶g̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ affection. The tears begin to well up as he feels his face grow burning hot. His voice is hoarse but just audible enough for Byleth to make out, “Please, I love you too.” The please leaves their stomach in knots as they wipe the tears from his eyes, pressing soft kisses to the corners of his mouth. Byleth finds this type of controlling reassurance much easier than normal romantic gestures common among couples. “You’ve gotten so much better at saying it back Mik, I might start saying it in public.” Byleth teases only to be met back with Miklan’s typical gruffness. “By the goddess shut up.”