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Dimitri stared at the rubble at the center of the cathedral. Though he had made amends with his allies and taken great strides towards repairing the bridges he’d long thought burnt, he still occasionally felt the need to be alone. These old haunting grounds would serve just fine.
There were simply so many eyes on him at all times– pitying, fearful, angry, but above all, persistent from sun up to sun down. Although he understood their wariness, the constant scrutiny could still be overwhelming at times.
And that was not to mention her eyes. With their unearthly green glow, they seemed to pierce through his armor, both physical and figurative, laying his soul bare for her dissection. He’d caught her staring many times since their meeting in the rain, as if she was afraid he’d run off to Enbarr again if she lost sight of him for even a second.
But lately, her expression had been proud. It reminded him of his Academy days, when he had passed his paladin certification exam with perfect marks, or when he had emerged from a burning building in Remire, an orphan under each arm.
Her pride shamed him more than her pity ever had, undeserving as he was.
In his more delusional moments, he might even call her looks loving. But that was impossible, the wishful thinking of a lunatic mind. To say that the professor was too good for him would be akin to calling the events at Duscur “an unfortunate incident”. The world itself didn’t deserve to be trod upon by her feet. A wretch like him was lucky to even glimpse her mesmerizing smile, to be in her presence at all.
Still, his traitorous heart hoped.
“Eep!”
He whirled around at the strange sound, reaching for the lance at his back. The instincts honed by five years of living as both predator and prey remained. But he willed his body to calm, as the intruder was no enemy.
“Professor?”
It seemed impossible that the shrill, frightened sound had come from the strongest warrior he’d ever known, so stoic she’d once been named a demon.
“Sorry!” she said, staring determinedly at her boots. “I didn’t think-- I thought-- Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”
What in the goddess’s name had gotten into her? Her behavior was completely out of character. The professor, ever a stalwart pillar of composure, didn’t stammer and fidget like this.
And why was she here so late? It seemed like she had come from the alcove with the saints’ statues, a place she had no reason to visit, certainly not in the dead of night.
And now that she had stepped into the moonlight, he could see that her face was flushed and her clothes askew. It was much too close to the base fantasies that haunted him nearly as often as the dead-- the pathetic, lustful kind where she ended up disheveled and sated in his bed. Her corset-like armor was crooked, the top of one breast spilling over the neckline from the uneven compression. What he wouldn’t give to slide his hand inside her top to release those tits and pounce upon them with his fingers and teeth.
He shook his head to clear the image from his mind. A bloodstained beast had no right to think of her that way.
Luckily, etiquette was ingrained in him just as deeply as his killer instincts. With forced calm, he returned his lance to its sheath.
“Professor, pardon my impertinence, but are you quite well?”
She didn’t answer right away, either calming herself or finding the right words. Finally, she said, “I haven’t seen you in here since Gronder. I--“
“You thought I was descending into madness again,” he finished for her, a pang prodding at his heart. Of course, why else would she be stalking about the cathedral, visibly upset?
“That’s not it at all,” she insisted. “I was only surprised.”
“Do not spare my feelings. I know I frighten people, even now.” Though it stung to know his beloved professor was among them.
At her side, she clenched her fists. “I’m not afraid, Dimitri. I’m–” She sighed. “It’s embarrassing. I’ll tell you only because you’ll think the worst of yourself otherwise. I used to sneak into the saints’ room to watch you after I brought you your dinner.”
After he verbally abused her and threatened her life, would be more accurate. Most of the time, he’d smash the dishes she thoughtfully provided, wasting precious food in his childish attempts to push her away. Apparently, she’d seen him do it, and still come the next day all the same.
But what did that have to do with tonight? Baffled, he asked, “So, why were you there just now?”
“I was... thinking about those times.”
“You came to the cathedral to think about me standing here?”
“Well...”
“Truly, Professor. This is beneath you,” he scoffed, familiar rage simmering under his skin. As the One-Eyed Demon, he had crushed skulls with his bare hands and leveled entire battalions single-handedly. He did not need to be coddled by his former teacher. “I am no longer your student. Don’t insult my intelligence with such a flimsy excuse. You are right to worry about my sanity. There are other people under your care, after all. It is wise to keep watch on all potential threats to their safety.”
He turned back to the rubble and brooded, his thoughts nearly as grim as they had been before the battle at Gronder.
Goddess, had he really convinced himself that she might care for him? It had been over five years, and he was still clinging to a schoolboy crush that could never be reciprocated. The woman was terrified of him, and for good reason. Whatever remote chance he had with her died that fateful day in the Holy Tomb alongside his youth.
“Dimitri.” She was closer than before, right at his elbow. “I came here to think about those nights because the way you treated me back then was so...”
Horrifying. Abusive. Unforgivable.
“...arousing.”
His brain came to a shuddering halt. “P-pardon?” he asked, an embarrassing squeak interrupting the word.
She slapped her hands over her eyes, something he’d seen the younger orphans do during a game of hide and seek. Like they thought the world couldn’t see them if they couldn’t see it. He’d never seen Byleth seem so nervous, even after all the times they’d gone into battle together.
“I know I shouldn’t be thinking about a former student like that, much less a prince. I’m so sorry–”
The flurry of words went right over his head because he was still stuck on-- “Arousing? Did I hear that correctly?” She nodded in confirmation, still hiding behind her imaginary wall. “How-- what-- Why?”
She peeled her hands away from her face and raised one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “You’re so much bigger than before, and your voice is so deep and authoritative, and all that talk about using me...”
His cruel words had excited her? He almost wanted to laugh-- even as a cruel beast, he was a failure, luring in the very person he wished to push away the most.
One of her arms gripped the other, and she bit her lip as she looked away, ashamed. For once, he did not see her as his divine savior, his light in the darkness. She was just a woman now-- a woman that was at his mercy, the rising lust in him noted. Again, the state of her clothes caught his attention.
His bearing shifted into the warrior– no, predator– he was on the battlefield. He planted his feet wide and crossed his arms, straightening to his full height to loom over her. “Professor... Tell me. What were you doing back there by the statues?”
“Please don’t make me say it,” she answered, closing her eyes tightly, hiding from him again.
He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look him in the eye. “Tell me,” he demanded, doing his best to replicate the authoritative tone that had affected her so.
“I was thinking... fantasizing about you.”
“About me using you,” he finished for her. “You pictured me taking my pleasure from you and leaving you cum stained and quivering.”
She nodded, eyes wide and cheeks pink. He snatched her hand and pried her fisted fingers apart. Slowly, purposefully, he dragged them under his nose, inhaling deeply. The unmistakable smell of arousal clung to them. His tongue flicked over the calloused pads of her fingertips, and he cursed his lack of taste.
“Is that all?” he asked. “Do not lie to me.”
“I... I touched myself. Only a little!”
“Fantasizing about your student, Professor? In the cathedral, no less.” He clicked his tongue. “I had no idea how depraved you were.”
No! What was he saying? Byleth was a model of virtue. But saints, the way those words made her chest heave and pupils dilate... She liked the cruel treatment, wanted more of it. No, more than that. She craved it.
Truthfully, she wasn’t the only one that enjoyed those interactions. For as much as he had spat venom at her, he was often hard under his codpiece, relishing in the way her breath quickened and face flushed in anger. A few times, his words were cruel enough to make her avert her gaze, the animal inside him exhilarated by the rare sign of submission.
In his naïve youth, he had suppressed his dark fantasies of pulling her hair and painting her with his come. It was yet more evidence of his unworthiness, his disgusting nature. The professor had been nothing but kind to him, and in return, he harbored the hidden desire to defile her. He did his best to put them out of his mind and refused to touch himself to such images of her, though he could not prevent himself from waking up often in a cold puddle of his own seed, cursing his weakness even in sleep.
Such propriety meant nothing to the husk of a man that fled Fhirdiad in disgrace, though. Alone in the wilderness, he let his basest instincts rule him, shamelessly fisting his cock countless times to vile, depraved thoughts of her-- taking her over her desk with the class watching, forcing to watch him masturbate until he painted her face with his come, spitting on her, tying her down... There was no end to his cruel imagination. What did it matter? They were both dead.
Even when they met again after five years, her defiance in the face of his savagery was a constant reminder of how badly he wanted to break her. He pushed the limits of his sadism further and further every day. He figured it was for her own good; eventually he would go too far for even her saintly patience, and he would be rid of her. And she would be free from him, as she deserved.
But the truly repugnant thing was that his base urges did not fade with the rest of his boarish ways after the battle at Gronder like he hoped they would. Even in his recovery, he could never fully rid himself of those fantasies. He resolved that it would be his private shame, of course. Byleth already carried a huge burden on her shoulders due to his failures and negligence. She could never know the repulsive feelings he harbored for her.
In all the stages of their relationship, though, it had never occurred to him she would tolerate his depravity, much less crave it herself.
Still, he could not be trusted with something so precious. He’d long resigned himself to that fact. It was bad enough when bent needles were the only reminder of his inability to control his strength. Now there was a rotting pile of corpses with necks broken with the same ease, standing as a monument to his beastly nature.
A monster like him would never be worthy of the goddess before him. This needed to end before he went too far-- no, it had already gone too far. The way he’d spoken to her, put his filthy hands on her perfect skin... How dare he?
His body disagreed with his mind, though, his thumb in no hurry as it traced her lower lip, enjoying the way it made her breath quicken. Reluctantly, he gathered all his willpower and wrenched his hand back to his side.
“The beast I was would have taken you in such a way without hesitation. But the man I am trying to be cannot.”
“Has that beast truly gone?” she asked, meeting his eye again, her gaze scorching. “Perhaps it would be better to provide it hunting grounds to keep it sated.”
She was right, of course-- his rage and grief hadn’t magically gone away when he decided to live for himself. The vengeful boar was a part of him as much as the dutiful prince. He’d said as much to Felix only a few days prior. Some days were more difficult to hold it at bay than others, and he could sometimes feel it pushing against the confines of his self-control like a beast against its cage.
But why should Byleth-- sweet, patient, perfect Byleth-- be the one to offer herself up to its gaping maw?
He shook his head, resolute. Absolutely not. Hurting his kind, beloved professor was the hard line he could never cross, would never cross.
“I dare not open that door for fear of what will be released,” he said.
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and hurried down the aisle.
“Dimitri,” she called in the clear, assertive tone he was accustomed to. He stopped-- she had that power over him, the man and the beast, and always would-- but could not muster the courage turn to face her, lest the sight of her weaken his resolve. “The offer stands, if you change your mind.”
“Trust me, I won’t.”
---------------------
Gods, he was a pathetic creature. His willpower held out for an entire three hours before he found himself at her door.
As much as he hated to admit it, she had been right. The rank urges he felt had to go somewhere before they consumed him. He could feel it happening already. Though she deserved far better, he knew only Byleth could slake that thirst, sate his lust for violence with plain lust. She was strong, but more importantly, she was safe, the only person who had seen down to the very depths of his blackened soul and accepted him anyway.
He didn’t knock. Men knocked; beasts just shoved their way in without an invitation. Despite the late hour, she was still at her desk, ever the diligent tactician, looking for ways to keep their allies safe.
Byleth’s lips turned up just slightly, as if she knew that if she seemed too pleased to see him, it would spook him.
“Hello, Dimitri.”
He crossed his arms and looked at the closest wall. “Save your niceties for someone who gives a damn. You know what I’m here for.”
He searched her face for signs of second thoughts or fear, but there were none to be found. She was still half-concealing a smile, and her eyes were bright with interest.
“Can I help you with your armor?” she asked.
“No. Get yourself ready. I’m not in the mood for foreplay.”
He was in the mood, actually. Spending all day and night with his head between her legs sounded wonderful. But the beast had taken control now, his own words simultaneously disgusting and exciting him.
They must have pleased Byleth, though, as she obeyed immediately. Her clothes came off one by one, painfully slow. Every new inch of skin revealed was a revelation far holier than he’d ever experienced in a cathedral.
Nude, she was more a goddess than Sothis herself, and unlike Sothis, his goddess had reached out her hand to him, had saved him when the supposed protector of Fódlan had never so much as heard his cries. Byleth settled herself in the bed, keeping her eyes on him. Her knees dropped open wide, giving him a clear view of her finger circling her clit and dipping into her pussy. He could hear how wet she was already.
The pauldron he was removing creaked as it crumpled in his hand.
“Sure you don’t need help?”
She had that flat tone she always used, but he knew she was teasing him. It was in her eyes, bright and open, slight crinkles forming at the sides, and her brows raised just a hair. Others said she showed no emotion, but he had spent an embarrassing amount of time studying the subtle language of her face.
She was challenging him.
“Shut up or I’ll gag you,” he answered.
She shrugged and went back to her task, but a small smirk had joined her amused expression.
It was a slow process getting all his armor off, distracted as he was by the sight of her naked and spread open for him. His undershirt and pants stayed on.
“Come here,” he ordered.
She made to kneel in front of him, but he stopped her and dropped his cloak on the floor as a cushion.
“I don’t need you missing battles because you hurt your bad knee sucking dick,” he grumbled. A weak explanation, maybe, but he knew her old injury caused her more pain than she let on. Whatever cruel fantasies he harbored, he had no wish to actually injure her. She huffed in amusement but said nothing.
He pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to expose his erection. “I don’t have time to indulge everyone who begs for my royal cock. You’ll have to prove you can handle it first.”
He stroked himself lazily, mainly to exhibit his uncommon size-- another dubious benefit to the beastly blood that flowed through his veins. It had never been a particular point of pride for him--more a hassle, if anything, and yet another part of him that was built for a monster instead of a man-- but Byleth’s wide-eyed, almost fearful, stare gave him a smug satisfaction.
It felt blasphemous, this woman with a kind soul and goddess green hair, kneeling to the heartless one-eyed demon. She should be worshipped, not used like a whore.
But it was a titillating blasphemy, the same kind of perverse rush killing gave him. He thought of Randolph on his knees, helpless, dependent on Dimitri’s mercy to take his next breath. Byleth, too, would learn the taste of his wrath.
A part of his mind recoiled at the sick comparison. Another relished in the power it gave him to command such a woman, a much more impressive captive than any imperial general could ever hope to be.
Any uncertainty faded away the moment she took the head of his cock into her mouth.
She struggled due to his size, though it was an admirable effort. His girth forced her jaw open until the bones creaked in protest, and then wider still. She began to gag with only a fraction of his length past her lips. He knew he had set her an impossible challenge, of course-- one she was meant to fail, as long as she was in control.
“Did I ask you to suck half my cock?” he taunted.
Her eyes were focused and determined, studying his cock like a difficult reason spell. “I can take more.”
“See that you do.”
She took a deep breath and tried to relax her throat, sliding further down his cock little by little. It was slow going.
“I’m starting to believe you really were asleep for all those years,” he said. “You clearly weren’t out learning how to please a man.”
She flinched at the insult, and he thought he might’ve gone too far mentioning her fall. But when she looked up at him, her gaze was soft. “What would you have me do?” she asked.
“Useless. Get on the bed.”
Like any reasonable person would, Byleth laid down as one would go to sleep, head on the pillow. But he had other ideas. With a merciless grip on her hair, he turned her ninety degrees so that her head hung off the side. It was clear what came next, and she opened her mouth wide without protest.
“Good,” he said, stepping up next to the bed and sliding his cock into her waiting hole. She choked at first, but didn’t resist, letting him use her as he liked. His hips pushed forward, and little by little, he worked his length past the resistance of her soft palate and throat. A few experimental thrusts confirmed she was pliant and ready to fuck.
“Perhaps you’ll make an acceptable cocksleeve after all,” he said approvingly.
Crude as it may be, it was an accurate descriptor. Like this, she was nothing but a hole and a pair of bouncing tits for his entertainment, her entire head obscured. There was an obscene slap of his balls to her face with every thrust.
She was utterly helpless, and unquestionably his.
Even though her participation wasn’t particularly necessary with the way he fucked her face, her tongue strained to stroke his length, doing what little she could to serve him. Despite being a prince-- no, he was a king now-- he had never felt so powerful, in complete control for the first time in his life.
For so long, he was simply dragged along by the whims of others, helpless to watch as his family was murdered, powerless to stop his step-sister’s machinations, chained to a wall in his own castle... Hell, even his own mind was a cacophony of other people’s demands.
But now he was not just in control of himself, but Byleth was also at his mercy. He decided how deep he went-- hell, her ability to breathe was at his discretion. The amount of trust she must have in him to allow such a thing... No, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself. She’d agreed to sex, a release of his base instincts, nothing more.
It was easy to clear his mind of such distractions, with the wet warmth of her throat a much more pressing sensation. His hand gripped her neck, squeezing lightly— not to choke, but to feel the rolling bulge of his cock as it ravaged her.
The pleasure threatened to overwhelm him, and he dropped his hands to the bed for support, his face inches from her navel. With her legs parted, he was granted a beautiful view of her thighs glistening with slick.
On a whim, he slapped her pussy hard, a wet, satisfying smack reverberating in the otherwise quiet room. Below him, Byleth moaned, sending pleasant vibrations down the length of his dick.
He chuckled darkly. “Sopping wet just from getting your throat fucked,” he said. “Had I known you were so desperate to be used, I might have come to you sooner.”
Her hips were rocking unconsciously, seeking the friction he denied her. He still couldn’t believe she was enjoying this, but the proof was right there in front of him.
“Now that I know, maybe you can warm my cock during war council. Your mouth would be of more use under the table than questioning my orders.”
He groaned, barely aware of what he was saying but enjoying the freedom to say whatever he wanted-- she certainly couldn’t talk back. It was getting harder to get the words out the closer he got, and he was very close now.
She gasped and coughed when he pulled out abruptly, sucking air into her lungs like she had been held underwater. Spilling himself down her throat had a certain appeal, but he wanted to dirty her, mark her, decorate her body with the evidence of his domination. It only took a few more strokes from his hand for Dimitri to come, his seed messily painting her face, hair, and breasts.
For a few moments, neither of them moved, him hunched over her body while they panted in the close, sex-suffused air. As his senses returned to him, he was horrified by the state Byleth was in. Her face and chest were red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot, his handprint branded on her neck in a purple bruise. To say nothing of the come dripping off her and drying sticky on her face.
“Goddess, Professor, I--“ he started as he stepped back, his hands covering his face in shame.
She twisted onto her knees and grabbed his arms to prevent his retreat. His eye was still closed tight, so he had no warning before her lips were on his. The kiss was sloppy, his seed coating their lips, but it was so tender compared to how he’d just treated her. He’d never felt more of an undeserving wretch.
She whispered something, but her voice was hoarse, wrecked from his brutal fucking. After clearing her throat a few times, he could discern the word, but the meaning was beyond his comprehension.
“More.”
“What are you saying?” he cried in disbelief. “You should throw me out-- no, you should run me through with your sword after what I’ve done!”
“I don’t want to,” she answered simply. “Please, Dimitri. Take me. Use me.”
“W-why? To slake my depraved urges? That’s not your responsibility!”
“It’s not like that. I’ve never felt so good before-- so free,“ she said, and he scoffed. Whatever she had been a moment ago, free was the last word he’d use to describe it. But she continued, “I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I’m Rhea, or Sothis reborn.” The anger in her voice surprised him, though he understood. Many saw him as a prince more than a person, a symbol. Hell, his closest childhood friends never even called him by name. He hadn’t realized that Byleth had been suffering the same isolation. “I don’t want to be worshipped. Right now, I just want to be yours.”
Before this, he would have been the first person to put her up on a pedestal, canonize her as his own personal savior. He spoke the title of Professor with more reverence than he ever used for any royalty, the archbishop, or the goddess herself.
But mussed and debauched as she was, he could finally see her for what she was. Not his perfect, unspoiled goddess, but a woman-- a lonely woman in over her head in a position she never asked for. Not to mention a fantastically beautiful woman who wanted him, of all people.
What kind of idiot would deny her?
And, well... Depraved as it was, his cock stirred with renewed interest at her words. The last of his hesitance crumbled when her crest glowed, the bruises on her throat fading until they were barely visible. She was too strong to break, and too honest to lie. They wanted the same thing, so there was no need to hold back.
Right?
He took a few steps to her vanity, grabbing a washcloth. She watched him curiously, but said nothing. Wetting the cloth with his saliva, he wiped his seed from her face and neck.
Their lips met for a surprisingly tender kiss. The taste of his own sweat and musk lingered in her mouth, drawing a groan from his chest.
But the gentleness could not last. Warmth and affection weren’t what she had asked him for, and his growing lust hungered for something more primal, too. Snatching her chin between thumb and forefinger, he pried open her jaw and forced the cum-soaked rag into her mouth.
“As you wish,” he said.
He swept her out of the way and leaned back against the pillows, his arms slung carelessly on the headboard.
“You expect me to do everything for you?” he sneered. “Ride me.”
She obeyed, cautiously crawling over his lap while he looked down his nose at her. Her hand held his cock steady while she positioned herself and sunk down onto him. She had touched herself before, but that had only been for a few minutes, and her tiny fingers were nowhere near enough to prepare her for his girth. Her eyes closed, and her face pinched up in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop her or even slow her down her progress.
Soon their hips met, the feverish heat of her cunt swallowing his entire length. The cloth in Byleth’s mouth muffled her wail.
He remained lounging, fully clothed, not helping her in the slightest as she planted her hands on his hips to bounce herself on his cock.
“I’ll stretch you out,” he told her. “I will carve my shape into you so that no one else will ever be able to fill you. You’ll only find pleasure on my cock.”
She nodded near hysterically and garbled some noise of protest, which he chose to interpret as a declaration that she didn’t want anyone else. That’s what he wanted her to say, anyway.
“What was that?” he asked with a laugh. “Don’t get ideas about your own importance. I don’t share my toys, that’s all.”
As if there was any competition for his heart. It had belonged to her and only her since the Academy. If he thought there was any chance of her reciprocating the depth of his love, he’d propose to her today.
Idiot. That’s not what she wanted from him, not even close.
He remembered how she’d shivered in the cathedral as she spoke of him using her.
“This is just another way to make use of your body,” he told her. “Kill my enemies by day and take my cock by night.”
His mocking had lit a fire in her eyes. He’d seen that competitive spark before, in the training grounds and battle. That look was the last thing Solon and Cornelia saw before their ignominious ends.
Now the full weight of that expression was on him, a dark promise loud and clear without a single word. Being good for him wasn’t enough-- she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had ruined him for anyone else. She wanted to satisfy him as thoroughly as she defeated him in their spars.
And by the gods, it was working. Her cunt gripped him so tight, and she spared no effort in fucking him. He could see the thick muscles of her thighs flexing as she lifted up until just the tip of his cock remained inside her, before she slammed back down to the hilt with a wet slap.
Those perfect full breasts he’d been getting off to since he was a teenager were bouncing with her movements. She was forced to cross her arms beneath them for some support, the action shoving them together right in his face.
He bit back a groan at the sight. If she would have him again after this, he vowed to spend hours lavishing attention on her tits himself.
Her movements became more and more frenzied until her spine arched and she threw her head back. He thought perhaps she was hurt until he felt it-- her walls contracting impossibly tighter around him as her orgasm ripped through her.
“Is that all it takes to make you come? Stuff you full of cock and the mighty Ashen Demon is as pliant as a lamb. I didn’t expect to conquer you so easily, Professor.”
Maintaining his disinterested facade was increasingly difficult as she came undone on top of him. His arms were still sprawled along the back of the bed, but his hands gripped the pillows hard enough to rip the fabric, and his jaw clenched. How he longed to grab her hips with all his strength and thrust up into her, but he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of affecting him.
Perhaps it was time to take control again.
“Get off,” he ordered her. She was still limp from the aftershocks of her climax, but didn’t hesitate to comply. “Get on your knees.”
The vision of her bent over and quivering for him would remain in his memory forever. He granted himself the indulgence of running his palms up her body from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck, feeling the story of her life as it was recorded on her skin. The raised ridges of old scars and thick, corded muscles of a life lived by the sword contrasted with her baby-soft skin and the plush, yielding flesh of her hips and ass, a result of the luxuries she allowed herself since coming to the monastery.
He’d gotten so carried away exploring her that she craned her head to shoot him a questioning look. A quick swat to her ass refocused them both.
“You’re mine,” he growled, drunk on the power of having such a powerful woman beneath him. “I’ll use your body however I choose. All your holes are mine to fill. Every inch of your skin is mine to mark.”
Finally, blessedly, he took a firm grip on her hips, his thumbs slotting into the small divots of her waist like they were meant to be there, satisfying the same part of him that luxuriated in a pair of crisp, perfectly fitted gloves.
She was stretched out now, and so wet the excess slick coated both of their thighs. His cock slid in without the slightest resistance, that addictive heat caressing him once again.
He made a few thrusts, his hips smacking audibly against her ass, but that wasn’t enough. Not even close. He would ruin her. When he was done with her, everyone would know in one glance how brutally he’d fucked her by the way she walked.
Fisting her hair close to the scalp, he used his hold to dictate where and how she could move. He pressed the side of her face into the mattress and leaned over her with a deranged grin.
“Want me to fill you up with my come?” She nodded as vigorously as she could with her head in his iron grip. He barked a derisive laugh. “Tch, of course you do. You’d love to swell up with my bastard to keep your claws in me.” The lies fell from his lips more easily with each passing moment. (In truth, he wanted nothing more than to settle down and have a family with her. On the rare nights he didn’t have nightmares of Duscur, he dreamed of such a future.) “You think I’d give that honor to some common mercenary whore? No, I have something else in mind for you, Professor.”
Again, he worried he might have gone too far, but she alleviated his fears with a moan.
He gathered her slick excess with his thumb and used it to press steadily into her ass. Goddess, it was tight, and he wondered if he’d even be able to accomplish what he was planning.
It was a little awkward at first, but he soon worked out a dual rhythm, stretching out one hole while fucking the other.
He pulled out, ego swelling at the pitiful whine that escaped her. She wouldn’t be empty for long, though. His thumbs spread her cheeks, and he pressed his cock slowly into the stretched pucker of her ass. Despite his slapdash preparation, her body accepted him willingly. She arched her back and pushed back against him, forcing him in deeper.
“So greedy,” he teased. “So desperate for my cock that it doesn’t even matter which of your holes I use to get off, does it?”
“Mmm,” was all she could manage in response.
He ripped the soiled rag out of her mouth. Her muffled moans weren’t enough. He wanted to make her scream, and he wanted to hear it all.
Even with her eagerness, it seemed to take forever before the entire length of his cock made it past her rim. Finally, his hips connected with her plush rear.
“Fuck, Byleth.”
All the words she couldn’t speak until now come pouring out of her with the gag removed.
“More, please, Dimitri, so good...”
She was babbling and incoherent, this composed woman who had once cut through the sky without batting an eye. And it was him that made her that way. Even standing in the castle with all of Fhirdiad cheering him as their king didn’t make him feel this powerful.
As he withdrew, her tight rim squeezed his cock in futile resistance, trying to suck him back into her heat. Greedy, just like he’d said. So if he teased her a bit by pulling completely out before slamming back inside her, well, that was his prerogative.
But he was feeling greedy, too. He’d barely been able to touch her, and he wanted his hands everywhere. Without letting up on his punishing thrusts, he twisted a fist into her hair and pulled her up to kneel in front of him. Then he had access to finally, finally explore her breasts.
He was clumsy and couldn’t settle on where to put his hands, squeezing them together and pulling them apart, bouncing them in his palms to feel the weight, twisting her nipples until they were red and swollen. The eagerness, or sheer number, of his touches must have made up for his inexperience, because her moans got louder and longer, until they would more accurately be categorized as wails and screams.
Byleth hadn’t been the only one to have depraved fantasies before, and her tits had a starring role in most of his. Through many a tortured night, his head was filled with thoughts of making her kneel in front of him and squeezing them around his cock until he painted her chest and face with his seed, slapping and biting and sucking those tits until the proof of his ownership was incontestable.
He’d always been horrified at his own perversion when he thought of using his beloved professor’s body like a toy to get himself off-- not that he had the willpower to stop, of course. To him, it was more evidence of his fundamental unworthiness, his beastly nature. Here was a woman he loved and respected, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her like some nameless whore, ruin her, mark her, degrade her.
And yet, far from judging him for those urges, she had asked him to do exactly what he’d fantasized about. His perfect professor, his blameless goddess, begged him to use her as a cocksleeve to pleasure himself, came apart on top of him as he spit vile insults to humiliate her.
If she was benevolent enough to indulge him, he would make the most of the opportunity.
“What would your students think if they saw you like this, hm?” he asked. “Their respected professor reduced to a needy whore on my cock.”
“Let them see,” she half said, half gasped.
One of his hands reluctantly left her breast and snaked down to pinch at her clit. He was rough and sloppy, but she required no finesse at the moment. She thrashed her head side to side, fighting against overstimulation with another orgasm cresting.
“Show me just how depraved you really are, Professor. Come with your ass split open on your student’s cock.”
An instant later, she obeyed his command, her body stiffening with a strangled wail. He was close behind her, holding her hips to his in an iron grip as wave after wave of seed spilled inside her. The tight channel of her ass didn’t have a chance of holding it all, and a sticky mixture of their fluids was forced back out onto their already filthy bodies.
His mind was blissfully empty for approximately five seconds before reality came crashing back up on him-- and with it, as always, his intense self-loathing.
How could he have treated her like that? He defiled her in the most demeaning ways possible. It was obvious now; she’d only asked him to do this out of fear of his beastly nature coming back. She knew he was too weak on his own and offered herself up as a sacrifice to-- what had she said before? Provide the boar hunting grounds? Presumably so that it did not go into a hunger frenzy on innocents again.
It wasn’t her responsibility to teach him self-control. If only he wasn’t such a useless--
“I can hear you thinking.”
“Byleth, I am so sorry. I should not have--“
“Don’t.”
Her clear voice interrupted the downward spiral of his thoughts. She had always been able to do that, cut through the chatter and noise of his mind make everything seem... simpler. Better.
Though now that he was thinking a bit straighter, this wasn’t exactly a conversation to have with him still buried inside her. As gently as a boar like him was able, he pulled out and lowered her to the bed. She rolled onto her side with her head resting on her hand so she could look up at him. The pure, guileless affection in her gaze contrasted starkly with the debauched mess he’d made of her-- bruised, sticky, and leaking his fluids. Shame forced him to avert his eyes.
That is, until a small, warm hand cupped his cheek, dragging him back to her.
“It felt good,” she said, easily guessing his thoughts. “I would have stopped you if it didn’t.” He must have looked unconvinced, because she added with a smirk, “Don’t forget that I am one of the few that can still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.”
There was no danger of him forgetting the way she targeted his weak points and pinned him into the dirt several times a week. She held such power in that petite body; it was intoxicating just being near her.
His thoughts drifted in that direction. Perhaps she would be amenable to this situation in reverse? The pressure of being a leader was frequently overwhelming, so he could see the appeal of letting someone else take the reins.
“Dimitri?”
For the goddess’ sake, here he was planning their next sexual liaison while his dick was still wet from their last one.
“My apologies. It’s... well. It’s rather hard to concentrate with this vision in front of me.”
He ran a finger down her side, tracing the swells and dips of her curves, goosebumps chasing his touch.
Compared to their rough, frenzied lovemaking, the moment was so quiet and domestic. Yet it filled him with the same euphoria, perhaps even more so. He could imagine a future with this casual intimacy every night, sharing each other’s hopes and fears away from the prying eyes of the world.
With a life like that, he wouldn’t need revenge or duty to keep him trudging forward day by day. A life like that would be worth living for its own sake.
But would Byleth consent to such an arrangement? Sleeping together was one thing, sharing a life quite another. She had been a free spirit as a mercenary; would she chafe at the rules and obligations of being a queen? Could she truly forgive him for all he had done and said, put her trust in him again? They hadn’t even discussed their feelings before jumping into bed. Perhaps her interest in him was purely physical.
...Perhaps it was time to show some courage off the battlefield for once.
“Byleth, I don’t mean to pressure you, but I must ask or my mind will never rest. Do you wish to be with me? Beyond tonight, I mean. I will respect whatever decision you make, of course. Goddess knows I would understand if you could not look past the more unsavory parts of me. But I feel I must confess that I have loved you for some time now.”
In response, she leaned over and flicked his forehead with a finger. Rather hard, if he was being honest.
“Ow!” All the tension left him in an amused huff, a grin spreading across his face. “And just how am I meant to interpret that?” he teased.
“I have loved you-- all of you-- for quite a while,” she said. “I’ve just been waiting for you to accept it.”
Astonishment, relief, and joy washed over him in equal measure. There was still some part of him– the part of him he’d foolishly thought was his father, or Glenn, but who else could be so hateful except for himself?-- told him to run, but he ignored it.
He’d tried to hide his feelings as a student, only for over-the-top flattery to escape his mouth every time she smiled. He’d tried to forget her after she fell to her death, but she had returned to him. He’d tried to push her away and ended up pulling her closer.
He lay next to her and went willingly when she pulled him to her chest. It was time to stop fighting his nature. Worthy or not, here, in the circle of her arms, was where he belonged.