Chapter Text
When it first started, Felix thought that it would be a temporary annoyance, something that would pass soon enough.
After two weeks of putting up with that bullshit, Felix finds himself forced to acknowledge that it's not to be, that he'll have to contend with the whimpers and moans from nextdoor for the foreseeable future.
He doesn't discount his fault in this, at least to some degree. He's always been a light sleeper, but-- every night? Seriously?
At first, he thinks that the boar prince is just shamelessly masturbating around three, four in the morning on a nightly basis like some kind of heathen, but further investigation-- and frankly, he hates the concept of him investigating anything involving that boar, but sleepless nights demand it to a certain extent-- leads him to believe that they're dreams. The timing is too spread out, too inconsistent. Quiet mewls and whimpers along with the occasional name-- Professor.
Predictable.
He's almost tempted to tease Dimitri about it when he sees him in the mornings after what sound to him like particularly heated dreams-- they always are when they wake him up, after all-- but then ultimately decides against it.
He's not that much of an ass.
It's not like Dimitri can help it-- especially not if he isn't jacking off on a regular basis. He can only presume that he already regularly shames himself for his routinely soiled bedsheets; he doesn't need Felix to make it worse.
Even if it is fucking annoying.
More than that, though (it's not like he was sleeping all too well before Dimitri had a sexual fucking awakening on account of their newest teacher), it's started to make him wonder what the fuck is even so appealing about Byleth that Dimitri would be coming himself in his sleep over her every night.
Sure, she's talented with a blade. Any former mercenary would have to be. She's clearly intelligent enough to teach. And she is a woman.
But... really?
It's not until she invites him to tea, of all things, and even manages to correctly guess at his favorite type, that he reconsiders his opinion on her… somewhat.
(That, or she chose Almyran Pine Needle by chance. But the odds of that are ridiculously low. And there's no way it's her favorite tea, too.)
But even then-- so what? She's observant, kind, considerate. A decent friend to have, then, and a good mentor considering her myriad talents on and off the battlefield.
She really is good with a blade.
It's during her next training session with the lot of them that he's reminded of just how good. He watches her form, her grace, the sheer level of skill in each of her movements, a good reminder of how much improving he really has left to do.
He has much to learn, and he approaches her for more training soon after.
Even there, she's almost impossible to best.
The difference between the formal training he's received and Byleth's experience from her time as a mercenary could not be more different.
Even in spite of her form and grace, the flow of her movements, there's something undeniably opportunistic about them. Willing to do anything to win.
It makes an irritating amount of sense, and it showcases precisely where he is lacking most.
All right.
So maybe, just maybe, on a purely hypothetical level... he could get it.
He doesn't, but he could.
He hates that.
&
At the same time-- he returns to the thought after mulling it over for a few days-- that couldn't possibly be all there is to it, could it? Admiration of her skill, like Felix has? To evoke such a strong reaction?
The boar's always been an emotional fool, but even so. What is it about her specifically that draws him in?
After all, plenty of the girls in the Blue Lions are kind, capable, and considerate. Sure, some of them might be annoyingly overbearing, but-- that probably wouldn't bother Dimitri all too much.
Does he just find her attractive?
For the first time since her arrival, Felix bothers to actually look at their professor-- properly. He... supposes that she's good-looking enough as far as women are concerned; well-defined waist, shapely silhouette, decent, symmetrical face, thick, strong thighs from years of training out in the real world.
It's almost more impressive than it is attractive, but...
He can't deny that it does have a certain… quality to it. Not enough to justify coming yourself in your sleep, but he supposes that part can't be helped. Then again, maybe it's just not his thing.
He really should just learn to jerk off, the moron.
&
Dealing with his own annoying urges has never been a problem for Felix. It's all very utilitarian-- he finds his thoughts straying and knows it's time to set aside fifteen minutes that evening to just get it out of his system.
He doesn't think about anything, he just does.
He takes his cock in his hand and tries to let the pump of his hand clear his thoughts as usual.
But it doesn't come.
He thinks about Dimitri and the glow on his face after receiving their professor's praise, thinks about the grunts and moans that meet him every night through the wall separating them, and growls-- anything to try and make the thought of the boar prince go away.
In their place, their professor's face takes shape, a reminder of his recent conundrum. She's attractive, sure, but it's moreso her talent on the battlefield that would make her appealing to Felix, and suddenly he is thinking about the shape of her thigh and the curve of her ass when she's mid-swing of her blade, cleavage just spilling past the top of her outfit--
Why is a professor even wearing something that revealing in the first place? No wonder his mind is straying.
Then again... Professor Manuela doesn't exactly bother to cover up her... everything, either. Compared to her, their professor is a veritable saint.
It occurs to him then that his hand has slowed in its movements, his erection having begun to wilt somewhat.
He needs to focus.
He growls again, doing his best to push away thoughts of Byleth's face, of Professor Manuela's everything, of the smell of Dimitri's hair, the whiff he caught that afternoon that has lingered with him since if only because it's so different from how it used to be when they were children, the glowing smile on Dimitri's face when he talks to their professor--
Fuck.
He reaches down to cup his balls, running his thumb over the head of his cock, suddenly finding himself wishing that he had anything in his arsenal to masturbate to aside from nothing, which isn't very appealing when put up against theoretically attractive people.
Theoretically. He doesn't actually find them attractive, he just realizes that they might be viewed that way by others, as they are objectively… symmetrical, maybe.
The alternative is actually finding their personalities and individual qualities appealing, and that is somehow more upsetting.
Especially when it comes to Dimitri, someone he is supposed to find deplorable.
He considers for a moment going to find Sylvain to ask him for porn, but ultimately decides that that would be the worst possible idea. Not only because Sylvain would never let him live it down-- though, really, that's a majorly contributing factor-- but also because he's not entirely sure that Sylvain doesn't just go out to try and find a warm pussy to stick his dick into whenever he feels so inclined.
Then again, considering his techniques... he can't be that successful.
Still, he's not asking Sylvain for porn.
Besides-- he's not even sure it would do him much good. What is he even attracted to? Professor Manuela has never drawn so much as a second glance from him, no matter how much her clothing may look like a particularly suggestive negligee. The concept of tits and ass or even cocks on their own never held much appeal to him.
Why, then, is he thinking about the boar prince and his stupid fucking fixation?
He's just close enough to coming that he decides in that moment to make a mistake and just fucking lean into it, the images flooding him all at once.
The professor in her battlewear, parrying blow after blow with perfect precision-- his hand moving faster atop his cock now-- the sweat on Dimitri's brow-- no, wait, not Dimitri, he doesn't even belong here-- the heave of the professor's chest as even she becomes worn down over time-- a shaky exhale leaves him-- what Dimitri must look like when he's touching himself-- he cups his balls again, firmer this time, biting down on his lower lip-- the smile on Dimitri’s face-- Felix thinks he might be losing it a little-- Dimitri, blushing crimson as a result of one of Felix's insults that didn't end up sounding like an insult at all-- his toes curl, every muscle in his legs starting to tighten-- Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri-- he's so close--
He arches his ass off the bed as he comes onto his stomach with a sharp grunt, come spurting further than he's normally used to.
Then again, he's never... fantasized about anything before now. It's... different.
He's breathing harder than normal now that he's coming down from his orgasm. Did he forget to, earlier?
Ridiculous.
His mind plays back the mental images that actually made him finish as if on a reel intended to shame him, and he lets out a dismissive grunt.
As though he could reject what he already knows to be true somehow.
If only it was as easy to walk away from yourself as it is from everyone else.
Reaching for a handkerchief as he sits up, he cleans up after himself and lets out a shaky breath, fingers running through his hair.
This is Dimitri's fault, isn't it? Putting these thoughts in his head.
That has to be it. He's been spending far too much time thinking about that boar as of late, anyway.
&
As much as he tries to avoid the boar prince over the next two weeks, it's impossible. Almost more impossible than avoiding the boar's crush, which, well. He already knew to be impossible if he opted for not skipping any of her lectures.
And seeing as skipping would imply that Dimitri's shit somehow actually managed to get to him...
He doesn't.
Which, of course, means that he can't avoid Dimitri, either.
He grits his teeth and pretends he isn't suddenly catching sight of things he never used to. The wistful, dreamy expression on Dimitri's face as he gazes up at Byleth.
The way his gaze sometimes dares to stray down... and how she either doesn't seem to notice or simply doesn't care.
And, well... he supposes she is rather... symmetrical, but honestly.
He does throw a quick "stop staring," at Dimitri on his way out of the classroom-- leaving the boar prince looking suitably ashamed-- but he doesn't bother to do much of anything beyond that.
Not until the next day, at least.
Usually it's he who approaches the others to invite them out for training. After all, quick duels opposite different partners are the best way he's found so far to figure out where he's lacking.
Today, though, it's Dimitri that approaches him, sword in hand.
"Care to train?"
"Is this about yesterday?"
"And here I was under the impression that you always wanted to hone your blade."
"Fine. Just don't make it personal."
The thing about duelling an old friend is that it almost feels like slipping back into an old pair of shoes, worn long enough to make them comfortable and then forgotten. Dimitri's movements are as foreign now as they are predictable. He knows his weaknesses, has learned to fixate on them over the years.
Just as much, perhaps, as Dimitri has attempted to fix the gaps in his education.
Their training was remarkably similar-- unlike their professor's style of fighting, theirs is methodical and clean; honorable, almost, though the word leaves a bad taste in its wake almost as soon as he thinks it.
The boar prince isn't worthy of the word anymore.
Even so, they're evenly matched. It's as expected as it is upsetting, Felix pushing forward while Dimitri parries each and every one of his blows.
The match could go on for hours, he thinks, if they didn't tire of it.
The shock of dark teal hair that catches his attention out of the corner of his eye is striking enough that it almost makes him look away from the match.
She's here, watching them.
Is she here for Dimitri? Has she noticed how he stares, and come to return the favor? She's almost as observant as he is, she must have noticed Dimitri's crush--
Somehow, the thought becomes enough for Dimitri to gain the upper hand, his blade in Felix's face with a triumphant smile.
He has to resist the urge to sneer in response.
"Seems like we should do this more often. What do you say?"
He's about to respond when Byleth steps out to join them, the sight of her finally catching Dimitri off-guard, as well.
"Well done," she tells Dimitri, the words enough to suddenly have him glowing. It's obvious by the expression on his face that he's doing everything in his power to try and keep from grinning like a lunatic.
"Don't be too generous with him, professor. He might piss himself from excitement alone."
"Thank you, professor. It means a lot to hear that from you."
The fact that his jab is going entirely ignored is even more insulting than the compliment he received, and he grits his teeth as he watches the boar prince-- practically beaming along the way-- head back inside.
As though he deserves to feel that kind of elation in the first place.
Stupid little fool.
"-- like this," Byleth finishes, her hand suddenly on his arm, and Felix realizes belatedly that she's been giving him instructions. "That way you won't leave yourself open to attack."
"Thanks," he grits out, suddenly wishing he could spit on Dimitri, steal the smile right off of his pretty fucking face.
"He respects you."
He almost laughs. What a hollow sentiment.
"And that means I have to respect him? No, thanks. I don't care to make that mistake twice."
"You could learn a lot from each other. He's more grown-up than you realize."
This time, he does scoff. "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what he got up to at night."
"What?"
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
"What does he do?"
Oh, great. So she did hear him perfectly well.
"It's nothing."
"Enough for you to mention it."
"He's keeping me up. That's all."
She stares at him. Maybe if he volunteers the information himself she won’t ask him to fucking clarify.
"After all these years, he just can't stop himself from wetting the bed all over again. Back then, it was nightmares. Now, it's a certain professor."
He really wants to know how she manages to look so fucking unfazed in response to him saying something like that.
"Does that bother you?"
He almost trips on his words.
"-- what?"
"Does it bother you?"
"That he keeps me up at night with his moaning and groaning? Yeah. 'course it does. I would have to be insane for it not to."
"That he's interested in me."
Felix stares at her for a long time after that.
Does it bother him?
It didn't before-- except that, yes, it did. It bothered him enough to spend days considering what was so appealing about their professor.
"Why would it?"
"You tell me."
Is that a challenge? He steels himself, squares his jaw. Crosses his arms.
"It wouldn't. That's the whole point."
"All right," she says, clearly not believing him in the slightest. "If you say so."
She walks away then, signaling the end to their conversation, and he officially feels as though he's lost two duels instead of one.
Why the hell does she care?
&
He cares, he decides after a few hours of brooding. He cares a fucking lot.
Slicing up training dummies isn't good enough anymore to quell the-- whatever the fuck this is. He's pretty sure it's anger. But-- it's complicated. Then again, all of his anger is. It's just easier to express that way.
Anger is easy and comfortable even as it carries his steps all the way to Dimitri's door. He knocks twice and waits, ready to just try the door himself by the time he opens it.
"Felix! I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon."
"I want a rematch."
Dimitri laughs, and Felix wants to strangle him a little.
"I didn't realize me besting you in a single duel would upset you so. Of course we can have a rematch. I wouldn't dream of denying you."
"You're so fucking fake," Felix mutters as he turns around to head back out, but it's quiet enough that Dimitri doesn't seem to hear him.
They walk to the grounds in silence, Felix swinging his sword as though it might disperse some of his anger in advance. He needs to focus. He can't afford to lose this one, not if he wants to keep from breaking Dimitri's nose.
The first swing seems to already take him off-balance, Felix throwing in more of Byleth's tricks into the duel than ever before-- things that border on playing dirty, things out of a mercenary's playbook that Dimitri wouldn't expect.
He starts to laugh when Felix has him at the end of his sword in record time, as though that would be the end of it.
But it isn't, not by a long shot.
He tosses his blade aside before grabbing hold of Dimitri's wrist and wrenching his sword out of his grasp as well. He only starts struggling when he catches sight of the fierce, unyielding glare in Felix's gaze, but Felix has had the upper hand from the beginning, and he doesn't slow until they're both on the ground, Dimitri trapped beneath him. He's straddling him, his wrists pinned on either side of his head, and, for just a moment, Felix feels his anger ebb a bit, the sight of the helplessness in Dimitri's eyes somehow placating.
"What the hell, Felix?"
... and just like that, it's back.
"Don't you what the hell me. I won this round, fair and square."
"Is that what this is about?"
"The next time you decide you want to show off in front of your precious prof, you can do it without me there, got it? I don't want to be included in your filthy fantasies."
"What are you talking about, Felix?"
"I know about your little crush."
"I-- that's..."
"Oh good, at least you're not denying it. Leave me out of your shit, and I won't get involved in yours."
He's about to get off of him when the idiot decides to open his mouth once more.
"It wasn't my intention to involve you in any way!"
"Oh yeah?" Shifting slightly, he takes the opportunity the new angle provides him and grinds his hips against Dimitri's only to be met with a strangled gasp from him. "You want her to be doing this to you? You bottom bitch."
"No--"
"Oh, so you'd prefer to be on top? Good luck. With a woman like that, you could never."
"That's--"
"Don't even try to tell me that you're too fucking chaste for this shit. Your balls have dropped, haven't they? Or are you saying that you need your professor to teach you that, too, Your Highness?"
"I-- I know how to f-fuck, Felix!"
He's almost close enough for their noses to be touching when Felix realizes that he had a far more profound effect on Dimitri than he fully realized.
"Are you seriously hard right now?"
"Like you're any better."
It's as much lip as he's gotten from Dimitri in years, Felix realizing seconds later that he's right.
Why the fuck is he hard?
He pushes off of him like a man possessed, storming off before Dimitri can say anything to make Felix want to punch him in his perfect fucking face.
Why the fuck was he hard?
It's not Dimitri.
It couldn't have been Dimitri.
He's attractive, yes, in the objective sense of the word, but Felix certainly isn't attracted to him; not when all he can think about when he looks at him is the bitter taste of betrayal at having his best friend stolen from him by this-- imposter.
Who was evidently never the man Felix thought him to be in the first place.
Well, then.
They were talking about Byleth, weren't they? Then, that explains it well enough.
But even that explanation leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
After all, their professor shouldn't be having that effect on him, either.
This is all his fault, Felix decides, and finds that even that thought doesn't make his soul feel any lighter.
&
Felix knows that he's being an exceptional ass when even he realizes that he's doing it.
So far, he's managed to make Annette literally alter her path upon seeing the expression on his face, Mercedes drop a dish, Ingrid attempt to offer him food (on account of his being, evidently, "hangry"), and Sylvain actually try to give him porn so he might "loosen up" a bit.
But when he ends up snapping at Byleth in the middle of class, he knows he needs to rein it in a bit.
Not that that realization stops her from approaching him after in an attempt to engage in a conversation-- and one he really doesn't want to have right now.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Well, at least she's giving him the option.
"No."
"All right."
Acceptance. Just like that.
Where's the backtalk? The attempts to force him to relent?
She makes no sense to him.
"But... we can always train... if you want to help me so badly."
"I'd like that," she says, and grabs her sword.
In his last fight with Dimitri, he knows he didn't fight entirely fairly. But with Byleth? He already knows he can't fight fairly and still have a chance at winning.
If he fights fairly, controlled and clean, predictable and methodical, he'll lose to her automatically.
So he meets her first swing easily, doing his best to vary his own attacks even while attempting to anticipate hers.
Like a game of chess.
A game of chess that's turning out to be... surprisingly easy.
He realizes by the time he's managed to back her up against a pillar that she let him win.
Which is just fucking insulting.
"Are you trying to piss me off?"
He knows he shouldn't be talking to one of his teachers like this, but fuck it. He's barely holding it together as it is, and she provoked this.
She knew what she was doing, so now she gets to deal with his attitude.
"Yes."
The audacity.
He can imagine what she might say next, especially were he to ask for clarification as she so clearly wants him to.
I think it would be good for you if you got it out of your system.
Would it, though?
It would be better to keep her from volunteering that helpful crap in the first place, though.
If it were Dimitri in his place right now, would he kiss her, to shut her up? Would he kiss her, just because the opportunity presented itself?
If this were Dimitri in Byleth's place, would Felix kiss him? Kissing him would be a spectacularly easy way to get him to shut up, now that Felix is thinking about it. He wonders what it would feel like, kissing Dimitri.
Wait-- what?
He realizes a moment later that he allowed his gaze to stray down to her lips for a split second and promptly pushes himself back and off of her.
That's the easiest solution.
Just walking away.
What's wrong with him?
How the fuck could he let Dimitri talk him into this shit?
Once again, he finds his steps carrying him to Dimitri's room.
He doesn't bother to knock, just pushes the door open to a satisfyingly startled Dimitri.
"Felix--?!"
"I know what you get up to every damn night, you freak, I can hear you through the fucking wall!"
"Felix, I don't-- I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't fool me. Maybe if you hadn't infected me with your nonsense, I could buy your whole innocent act, but I don't. Not anymore."
"Is this about the professor? Because I really don't know what you've been hearing--"
"Do you not know how to jack off, or something? Is that it? Because I'm about as sick of it as I am of your fucking face."
"What?"
"Every damn night! You moan and whimper in your sleep so convincingly that I first thought you just masturbated at all hours of the night, but then I realized, no, you just wet the bed in your own special way."
Realization dawns on his features slowly but surely, his ears going red first before the color spreads onto the rest of his face.
"I--"
"You said you know how to fuck, so I'm not really sure what's stopping you. Trying to save up all your come for the professor, is that it?"
"That's highly inappropriate--"
"Did no one ever teach you how to fist your own cock? If you really can't manage, I'm sure Dedue could help, seeing as he's ready to eat your ass at any second if only you said the word."
"Now wait just one minute!"
He's standing now, just barely taller than Felix at his full height, and yet it's somehow still enough to piss him off that tiny bit more.
"What, you can only take me insulting you to your face but not anyone else? However much you may hate yourself, I can guarantee you that I hate you far more."
He's been gaining ground, he realizes, Dimitri stepping back bit by bit until he hits the wall, suddenly finding himself trapped with Felix's hands flat against the wall on either side of his head.
"Felix, I--"
"You disgust me."
The silence that stretches between them is deafening, Dimitri's gaze slowly hardening.
"If I disgust you so, why are you still here?"
Felix just stares at him.
"Strike me already if you're going to. I know you want to. And you have every right, at that."
It's true. He does have every right, and he very badly wants to hit him.
"Just shut up," he mutters, and leans in to kiss him instead.
It's hard and unforgiving-- bruising, almost-- but more than that, it's reciprocal, Dimitri letting out a soft groan as Felix allows his knee to slip between his legs.
Biting down on Dimitri's lower lip, he waits to taste copper and is instead met with another moan.
" Felix--"
What the fuck is he doing?
Immediately pulling back, he doesn't bother looking Dimitri in the eyes before walking back out the door.
This is starting to become a habit.
It can't.
&
On the whole, Felix tries to overanalyze as little of his life as possible.
This time, it doesn't work.
Had he just wanted to shut Dimitri up? It's by far the easiest answer, and it absolves him of most of the impulse involved in what he did.
Just... most, though.
Not to mention that he stayed far too long for it to be the sole motivation.
Who kisses someone just to shut them up and then keeps going?
And what the fuck was wrong with Dimitri that he didn't just allow it to happen, but participated?
Just how touch-starved had he been by that point?
The alternative, somehow, is worse.
That Dimitri wanted to kiss him.
That he enjoyed it.
It's not like he was moaning Felix's name out in the middle of the night, so what the fuck?
Why isn't he moaning Felix's name, anyway?
The sauna isn't doing a great deal to help him sweat out his frustrations, but at least it's doing his body some good even while his mind is in turmoil. That, and he's alone for once, which is always nice.
As if on cue, the door opens, Felix letting out a sigh until he catches sight of Dimitri.
Phenomenal.
"Oh-- um. I-- I can leave again, if you don't want me in here."
Looking around the empty sauna, Felix just shrugs, half-hearted, which is just about the precise opposite of how he actually feels.
"Don't be an idiot. I'd have to be one hell of an asshole to not even tolerate your presence in the same room as me."
Dimitri gives a small chuckle, but it sounds mostly hollow as he goes to take a seat.
"To be fair... you did tell me that I disgusted you last time you saw me."
"You do disgust me. And not just because you can't jack off."
"Did I-- last night--"
" Yeah," Felix interrupts him, rolling his eyes. "It's like you learned nothing from me yelling at you the last time."
Yeah, yelling at him. Like that was all he did.
"I've never-- I mean, I tried once, but it just-- it seemed so wrong to think about the professor like that whilst--"
"Whilst what, palming your cock? Get over yourself. You really think you're the first guy in the monastery to touch themselves while thinking about a teacher? You see how Professor Manuela dresses."
"But-- but she's different! The professor is--"
"Innocent and pure? Don't make me laugh. Like she doesn't already know you're madly in love with her."
He's not sure he's ever seen Dimitri so shocked.
"What do you mean, she knows?!"
"You've only made it painfully obvious to the whole school, what with your mooning all over her. Just fucking touch yourself like any regular guy and get over your delicate sensibilities, Your Highness. Or do you need a private lesson on how?"
"Th-that's--"
"What, you getting hard again, boar prince?"
"There's really no need to insult me just because you think it's funny that I'm inexperienced. You were--"
Before he can finish, the door opens again, this time to Byleth herself.
Dimitri moves to stand almost instantly.
"You'll have to forgive me for leaving just as you're arriving, Professor, I'm starting to feel quite warm."
It's truly a shame they're in a sauna, because judging by just how red his face is as he says it-- and how little time he's spent in here-- it's rather obvious to Felix that this was a lie, but Byleth brushes it off regardless of whether or not she notices, moving to sit just a foot or two away from him.
"It seems like there's more animosity between you two than usual," she says after a long stretch of silence once the door closes behind Dimitri.
"You must be imagining things."
She shrugs and says nothing.
He hates when she does this. As though she knows just how to get under his skin, how to get him to crack.
It's too effective.
He resists for a while. Glances at the door. Considers leaving, on account of having been here long enough by far.
But that would be like admitting weakness outright without actually saying the words. And he can't have that.
"I just don't see why he has to be such a self-important prude; it drives me mad."
Fuck.
"Prude?"
"Wouldn't be keeping me up if he could just admit to himself that he has needs."
"Do you admit it to yourself?"
"Of course I do."
"I see."
Once more, the conversation falls dormant, just like that.
As though she really is satisfied knowing so little.
"Wouldn't hurt if he fought back a little, either," Felix adds without any prompting, like some kind of idiot that actually wants to share his feelings.
"While training?"
"I'll insult him to his face, and he'll just... take it. I could probably punch him and he wouldn't flinch."
Is that why he kissed him? To evoke a reaction, any reaction?
"Why do you think he does that?"
"Because he agrees with what I'm saying."
"And that doesn't make you happy?"
"No, it doesn't." There's nothing satisfying in insulting someone maliciously, over and over, while they don't so much as lift a finger to fight back.
Did he expect Dimitri to fight him off when he kissed him? Probably.
"I'm going out," he says as he moves to stand. "I've been in here long enough."
Byleth doesn't fight him for more conversation either, and somehow that leaves just as bitter a taste in his mouth.
&
If there's one thing his experience on the battlefield has taught him, it's that no amount of training ever quite prepares one for the real thing. The movements have to be instinct, so fluid and natural that they could happen upon waking from sleep.
It's why, out there, they fight to keep each other alive no matter what. Personal ties and grudges cease to matter. All that matters, as Byleth has taught him, is not dying.
And as much as he hates the fucker, that includes Dimitri.
So when Felix catches sight of an arrow headed straight for him, he reacts.
"Dimitri--!"
He's too late. Or-- no.
The arrow wedges itself in his side where it might have missed him entirely had he not turned to look at Felix.
Fuck.
Mercedes is already doing her best to heal him, but the guilt stays with him regardless.
It lingers even past the end of the battle, all the way through dinner and the remainder of their evening. Where he strode with unflinching, unyielding purpose to Dimitri's door the last two times he went to see him, this time he hesitates, just staring at his wall for a long while.
Maybe, if he waits long enough, he'll be asleep by the time he comes by.
That would be... best, he thinks.
Besides, caring is bad for his image, particularly when it comes to Dimitri.
So he waits.
&
It's late by the time he does finally decide to step out of his room and head nextdoor, intent on opening the door as quietly as possible.
"I know you're a deep sleeper, you fuckface; don't you dare be awake now," he mutters, socks softening the impact of his feet upon the floor.
Why the fuck did he come here, anyway? Just to fucking watch him sleep? To... make sure he's still alive after Felix's fuckup could have easily killed him?
Fuck. He is awake.
"Still alive, boar prince?"
"What do you care? Wouldn't you prefer it if I died?"
He didn't come here looking for a fight, but those words settle like stones in his gut, Felix scoffing as he glances back at the door. He could still leave, now. It's not too late.
"You actually think I'm that heartless, do you?"
"You hardly make your dislike of me a secret. You're frequently openly derisive of not only me but everything I evidently represent to you. You claim that the me you used to know died two years ago. I cannot deny that these things don't hurt to hear, considering the many years of friendship between us. So while I consider you far from heartless, I don't particularly think you'd miss me if I died, no. After all, according to you, I'm already dead. There wouldn't be a lot to mourn."
He has a point.
Felix hates that, but he does have a point. The logic is sound, and it says far more about Felix than it does about His Beastliness.
"We're not... friends."
"And I do disgust you," Dimitri adds, less helpfully than he might have assumed himself.
"... yes. But I wouldn't want you to die. After all, I... did... attempt... to keep that from happening today."
Except that it was his fault that he got injured in the first place. There's no way around that.
It's why he's here, as though he's hoping to... repent, somehow.
"It's different on the battlefield, we all act on instinct. But... I'm glad that your instinct apparently thinks my life still worthy of living. Which reminds me, I never did get to thank you after I was hit. So... thank you."
"Don't fucking thank me! I'm the reason you got hit, you idiot!"
"Not-- not intentionally, surely--"
" Of course not intentionally-- honestly, it's like you think I'm some kind of monster."
How very ironic.
"... I can't make sense of you," Dimitri says quietly, shaking his head. Not realizing, Felix supposes, that the feeling is entirely mutual.
He can't make sense of him, either.
"Why are you here?"
"What do you mean, why am I here? I had to make sure you were still alive, didn't I?"
"No, Felix, you didn't."
No, he supposes he didn't. Dimitri didn't know about his guilt until he brought it up himself. He could have just as easily gone back to his room and ignored Dimitri altogether.
Why, then, would that have felt like a betrayal? Why does the thought of Dimitri actually dying grip him with such panic?
Met with Felix's silence, Dimitri continues.
"And considering how you left last time-- not to mention how you've been avoiding me since-- I didn't think I was particularly high on the list of people you wanted to be around right now."
"I was hoping you were already asleep."
"You detest me that much? Or did you just feel too guilty to face me?"
Too guilty for what-- leaving him, or almost getting him killed?
He supposes it doesn't make much of a difference.
"You know what-- forget it," Felix snaps, turning around to head for the door only to be stopped by Dimitri's voice.
"That was my first kiss, you know."
Well, fuck.
"So?" Turning around, he makes a great show of shrugging, shaking his head. "You're not special, boar prince."
"I never said-- what does that have to do with anything?"
Seiros help him, Dimitri actually looks hurt.
"It was my first…" he clears his throat, "one, too."
"And you didn't think that it would be rather rude to just storm out after that?"
"No, not particularly."
"You could really give a guy the wrong idea, doing something like that."
"Do you really think I go around kissing a lot of guys?"
"I hope not."
What the fuck.
"Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know that you were even willing to in the first place?"
"I don't know, maybe the part where I moaned your name could have been a good giveaway."
"You know what," he starts, Felix walking back up to his bedside, "this is what I hate about you. You're so--"
He doesn't anticipate Dimitri reaching for the front of his shirt and pulling him close, but the next thing he knows, Dimitri is kissing him, hard and insistent. It softens a moment later, the grip of his fingers around the edges of his vest echoing the sentiment, and Felix realizes that Dimitri doesn’t want to force this, wants him to have the option of a choice between pulling back and staying.
It’s an easy enough question for him to answer, though. Where actually communicating is a genuine challenge for him at times, this is... surprisingly simple.
Much like the physicality of training with a sword, this feels more like instinct than work.
As if in response to Dimitri’s hesitation, Felix pushes him back down on the bed and kisses him again, harder this time. If Dimitri's kiss was a challenge posed, this is his answer, unwilling to back down.
At least-- until he feels Dimitri's hands on his shoulders, pushing him back.
"What the fuck, Dimitri."
For a split second, he looks downright shocked, Felix realizing a moment later that outside of the battle, where instinct reigned above all, this is the first time he's said Dimitri's name instead of just calling him the boar prince.
But then Dimitri shakes his head and keeps talking, and just like that, it's almost as if nothing even happened.
"I'm sorry, I just-- are you sure you want this when you despise me as much as you do?"
"We don't have to talk to-- whatever this is. That's all that matters, isn't it?"
"I suppose."
"Good, glad we settled that."
His knee slipping between Dimitri's, he grabs hold of one of his wrists to pin to the bed, Dimitri already meeting him halfway to kiss him again. For all their joint inexperience, this doesn't... feel clumsy. It feels good, and he's learned enough about what to do simply by paying attention to his surroundings.
So he slips his tongue into Dimitri's mouth and draws another one of those moans out of him.
He doesn't know if this-- what they're doing here-- is a natural conclusion following on the last few weeks. All he really knows is that when he's making out with him, he doesn't hate Dimitri's dumb, symmetrical face quite as much as he's gotten used to of late.
And when he reaches down to cup his erection, Felix finds himself downright smug over just how hard he is.
"You're hard," he pulls back just far enough from Dimitri's face to tell him (as if he doesn't already know), only to watch as Dimitri's cheeks bloom red once more.
"A-aren't you?"
"Of course I am," Felix says, and kisses him again.
His hand doesn't remain where it was, though, instead shifting up to undo the drawstring of his loungewear and slide past the waistband.
The sharp inhale that leaves Dimitri against his lips is almost satisfying enough in its own right, but then Felix's hand finds his cock to grasp, and just like that, Dimitri's hips do the talking for him.
"Patience," he tells him, pulling back from their kiss to sit up and draw his pants down-- just far enough that wrapping his hand around his cock is easier, no fabric to fight against.
It allows him an overview he hadn't expected, His Highness looking far more disheveled than Felix thinks he's ever seen him. Hair in disarray, lips parted, panting-- his chest heaving, barely able to keep his hips in check with every caress Felix offers him. It's a delight to behold, and Felix is once again reminded that Dimitri doesn't masturbate.
"That's right," he mutters, his thumb running over the head of his cock as one of Dimitri's hands fists the sheets beneath him. "I almost forgot that you had no idea how good this could be. At this rate... how long are you even going to last?"
"F-Felix--"
"Not very long, I'm guessing? You'd better make it up to me, then, once you do finish."
Dimitri pulls his shirt up over his chest, and Felix barely resists the urge to stare. Isn't he already hard enough? Why the fuck does Dimitri have to be attractive?
Objectively, that is.
Fuck.
He fucks his hips up into Felix's hand for two, three more thrusts before spurting all over his fucking hand, his stomach, and his sheets, as though they haven’t already been through enough. Felix takes his time in slowing the speed of his hand to a gradual stop before grabbing hold of Dimitri's handkerchief on the end table behind his bed.
It's his come, he can deal with the mess himself.
Sitting back against the wall, Felix props one of his feet up and waits for Dimitri to catch his breath before saying anything else.
"Felix, that--"
"You going to repay the favor, or are you just going to watch me do all the work on myself, too?"
"Wha-- no, no, of course not, I would never--" he mutters, hastily sitting up to move between Felix's legs.
"Don't aggravate your wound on my behalf."
"Mercedes got most of it; I'm fine, honestly."
His hands move deftly enough as they work to undo the closure of his pants, only looking up at Felix upon realizing that he's at an impasse.
"Fine," Felix mutters, lifting his hips and sliding his pants off with no small amount of difficulty, his boots coming off alongside in the process.
Dimitri doesn't even hesitate, just wrapping his mouth around Felix's cock without thought.
What's he trying to do, repent? Make the countless sleepless nights up to him?
"Less teeth," Felix hisses, and runs his fingers into Dimitri's hair for something to hold onto, his hand moving down to cup his balls, only for Dimitri to take that over, too.
He's not even gagging despite bottoming out each and every time. It's downright astonishing, and Felix's head falls back against the wall connecting their rooms with a dull thud.
Fuck.
Is this why Sylvain keeps hitting on women? Is this the feeling he keeps chasing, a hot mouth wrapped around his cock?
Masturbating feels nothing like this.
Then again, Dimitri's hand around his balls feels better than his own hand, too, so maybe it's just the fact that it's a person other than him doing it that makes all the difference.
Well.
If he needed actual proof of just how alive Dimitri still was, he more than has it now.
His hand tightens in Dimitri's hair, Felix about to pull him off of him when Dimitri instead redoubles his efforts, a sharp, staggered gasp leaving him.
"I'm close," he mutters, his hand tugging more insistently in an effort to make Dimitri come up-- but he doesn't, swallowing around the head of his cock until Felix thinks he sees stars.
There's something uncomfortable intimate about that-- Dimitri swallowing his come down without question or hesitation, just like how he decided to fucking go down on him like some kind of wild, lust-possessed beast.
Then again...
"Where the fuck did you learn that?" Felix rasps out, his head falling back against the wall once Dimitri resurfaces, licking his lips.
Of all things.
"... I will admit, Sylvain has a tendency to get uncomfortably graphic in the sauna. That was not all just... natural talent."
"Well then. I suppose that answers the question of whether you were lying to me about that being your first kiss."
It's not a necessary question. He already knows. He's far too honorable, the prick.
"I wouldn't lie about something like that, Felix."
"Mm."
He's already up and getting dressed again when he catches sight of the disappointment flashing in Dimitri's eyes, as though he expected them to spend the night sleeping in a single twin bed cuddled up together.
He says nothing, and Dimitri tries to cover up the hurt in his eyes just as quickly as it arrived there.
"... will you be back?"
"Maybe. If it'll stop you from wetting the bed and keeping me awake."
It's a great rationalization, but Felix knows he's kidding himself. It'll be nice to get to sleep through the night (if his insomnia is that kind to him), but...
He can't deny that it felt good.
Dimitri doesn't ask for anything after that, and Felix doesn't bother saying goodbye on his way out the door.
&
If Felix ever truly considered the possibility of not returning for seconds (and thirds, and fourths), he was surely kidding himself.
It ends up happening every other day or so, like a practiced routine as much part of their days as classes and training.
Dimitri still stares longingly at their professor-- and who can blame him, with all that... symmetry-- but it's fine.
Sylvain remarks on how Dimitri is never going to get laid on account of having fallen head over heels for their professor, but it's fine.
The professor compliments him in class and he looks happier than he has in weeks, but it's fine.
It's all fine... until it isn't.
They're in battle, and that always comes with its own set of rules... naturally.
And when Byleth ends up almost hit by a magic attack that seems to come from out of nowhere, naturally Dimitri dives to shield her from it, the attack hitting him in the shoulder, instead.
Felix has to resist the urge to go to him at the sight of his body on the floor, but the battle has to continue and Dimitri is back up to standing in no time, reassuring everyone that he's completely fine, that it isn't bad at all.
And just like that, the fighting goes on, Felix throwing him the occasional glance across the ruins playing host to their battle.
He doesn't assume Dimitri to have been lying about the state he was in, and he supposes that was his first mistake.
His second mistake was waiting too long to go to Dimitri's room to check on him.
The door is cracked, just barely.
Just enough that Felix can see into Dimitri's bedroom-- granting him a perfect view of Byleth sitting at his bedside.
Where he should be sitting.
He can't make out what they're saying, but it's obvious she's trying to help him patch up his shoulder, and for a moment, Felix feels like he's been punched in the gut.
He should have been paying better attention, should have been more alert to the fact that of course, Dimitri would lie about not getting injured trying to save his precious professor, of course he'd pretend that he was just fine and could walk it off just like that.
The fool.
Not that the bigger fool isn't him for not realizing sooner, for not going to him before--
One second, the professor has her hand on Dimitri's shoulder, and the next, he's leaning in to kiss her.
Felix feels his fingernails digging into his palms, his knuckles straining against the force suddenly going into making fists instead of swinging them.
He's kissing her.
The idiot is actually fucking kissing her.
It stops just as soon as it began, Dimitri wide-eyed and ashamed, red rapidly bleeding onto his features as he realizes what he's done. His voice rises three octaves and decibels alike, and suddenly Felix can hear him just fine.
"Oh, by the goddess, I'm so sorry, Professor, I shouldn't have--"
Presumably, Byleth cuts him off and says something-- mollifying? Placating? Telling him that it's fine and not to worry? Or worse, that she feels the same way he does?
He feels sick to his stomach.
Then again, maybe she doesn't tell him as much, because the next thing he knows, Dimitri is struggling and trying to get out of bed, his foot caught in the bedsheets.
Moron.
"I-- I have to go!"
"But this is your room!" Byleth tells him, loud enough for him to hear as Dimitri finally finishes untangling himself.
"Um-- keep it! I don't need it anymore!"
Felix turns around to start walking in the other direction just as Dimitri comes out the door.
"Felix!"
Oh, fuck no.
He doesn't bother answering, doesn't bother turning around.
He just keeps walking.