A quiet knock at the door, reverberating in the wood, transmitting hollowly into the room.
Byleth does not answer immediately. The scheduling papers in his hands dim a moment as his vision travels inward. He could not answer. But it'll look funny if it's any of his other students, especially if this goes on. As soon as the thought settles, his finger automatically taps down next to a certain name. He hears himself, hollow too, "Come in."
The other side pauses now, maybe second-guessing, thinking its own thoughts, then the door clicks, opens. He tries not to appear overly concerned or even look. If he let what he feels show, what would it look like? Fear? Shame? Affection? He's not even sure himself how he feels.
A few sharp steps that tingle up his spine in anticipation. The door clicks back shut, followed by the malevolently soft snap of the lock.
He has to look now, make the first move. Smile warmly, like a teacher should, be normal. Knowledge of the lock teeters on the edge of his mind, making his heart thud each time his thoughts brush against it. "Dimitri." He doesn't ask what's wrong, or how he can help. It would be a bit too fake.
"Teacher." Dimitri stops by his desk, as several of his peers do every day. His eyes, usually so earnest and straightforward, flicker between looking him in the face and the desk, where his hand has settled. His bare fingers nervously clench and release in a half-fist.
That he's dressed (down) for this makes it easier. He almost looks like another person in his casual wear.
"What is it?" Byleth asks softly. "What do you want?" The question is genuine for the occasion, not as teacher to student, but from one lover to another. A look of relief crosses Dimitri's face--the transition has been made, the boundary crossed--and he looks at him, truly, eyes soft.
"Come on, don't make me say that..."
Byleth takes his hand. Their fingers and palm lock together perfectly. "Do you need me to say it instead? That I want you? That I have since the moment I saw you?"
He sees color warm his pale cheeks before he leans over, pressing his forehead to his, noses touching companionably. "I felt the same way, teacher."
Just a tug, and he slides right into his lap. Their faces shift just enough that their lips meet. Byleth has never kissed anyone before, except his father as a child. It had been familiar enough but not exactly comfortable, between his father's hard mouth and the beard he always had grown out. He hadn't known a kiss could feel so soft.
Everything else is entirely new for him. Other mercenaries were not always private with their affairs, but in the whole of his life he has never embraced another like this as their breaths mingled together, and felt their hands run over every part of his body, with his doing the same. How strange, thrilling, to feel excited by the feel of another man's shoulders, and his chest against his. Dimitri's thigh muscles tighten, mostly over his own thighs, but by virtue of positioning, against his groin.
That's another thing, this heat.
It's on a completely different level from his self-sustained adolescence. His body might burn up with it.
It must be the same for his poor student, too.
He finds the bulge between his legs, hard and strong like the rest of his body, and rubs his palm flat against it. Dimitri gasps right into his mouth. Outside of this room it might be gross, but he likes it. Even his breath tastes good, and it's even better when he goes on kissing him, mumbling in the pauses between, begging against his teeth, teacher, teacher, teacher.
"You're not going to make a mess in your pants, are you?" Byleth barely manages to ask. "Why don't you get on the desk."
Dimitri makes a mumbly embarrassed noise, but like a good boy, does as he's told. Having him higher up should put him in the dominant position, but what he looks like is a piece of meat. All a question of attitude, Byleth supposes. His face and ears look sunburned, but his legs are open enough for him to sit inbetween. He sees his eyes almost squeeze closed, like him being so near is about too much.
But they remain that little bit open even when Byleth starts pulling at his fly, like in the end, he has to see. "Teacher will be sure you're nice and clean, okay?" He's very careful. The thought of trying to explain how a student hurt himself unzipping in his classroom makes him sweat.
He fiddles with the band of his underwear a little before pulling his cock out, even slower. Not because he's worried about this part, but because he likes the way Dimitri's belly sucks in every time he touches him. It's as robust and pink as he'd hope for one of his students, big enough to fill out nicely in his palm. A generous lather of pre-come shines on the head. He must have been close, indeed. It looks tasty, like some kind of cream dessert.
He doesn't think he's been looking too long, but Dimitri shifts a little. "Teacher..."
"Oh, I know. But you have to be patient and let teacher admire you." He remembers again that this isn't something he's supposed to do, but the shame it brings is eerily close to arousal. It's not gone entirely, more like the two feelings have merged partway.
He grasps the shaft in one hand and tugs a little, just enough to feel the skin slide over the engorged flesh beneath. The yes-no feeling grows stronger, heavier on the yes side; the no is garnish, existing now not for its own sake but to make the other side feel stronger by contrast. Sugar in curry.
Fingers pull into his hair and hold most of it away from his face, like hairpins. They don't exert any pressure otherwise, just to the sides of his head which feels nice, actually, another sign of what a sweetie all of his students are but this one in particular especially.
He sucks it tentatively into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the glans, as he has a few times by now. A slightly oily, salty taste fills his mouth. It tastes exactly like what it is: watered-down semen.
A twinge of pain shoots through his scalp. He notes with some amusement there's no follow-up apology. Looking up, Dimitri's face is redder than ever, and his gaze fixed entirely on his mouth. Too preoccupied to notice his grip tighten. If they had more freedom to do whatever whenever, Byleth would be tempted to punish him for it. A ruler across his palms... or the back of his thighs...
His wandering mind gets him ahead of himself. The tip is nuzzling against the back of his throat before he's even aware. A teacher should be more on-guard than this, but he's hot, and so is Dimitri in every sense of the word, and he can still taste it dripping into his throat.
He hums a little, and that's all it takes to turn the trickle into a stream. Keeping still makes the flow down his throat easier, and Dimitri is aware enough at this point to do likewise, though every muscle in his body tenses with effort. His breath whistles between his teeth. Too low for anyone to hear outside the room, but the yes-no feeling that somebody could...
Byleth swallows hard until it feels his mouth is mostly clean, and pulls back with a 'pop' of released suction. The fingers in his hair turn soft and lovingly stroke against his scalp. He bows his head forward, lets them card all the way to the back of his head. Dimitri's cock softens bit by bit but is, as promised, nice and clean but for the saliva.
His bangs mute the sensation of what is either a kiss or a nuzzle.
"Teacher... do you want...?" His voice trails off, but Byleth knows his options. Hand, mouth, thighs.
The idea of intercourse seriously occurs to him for the first time. And for the first time, it floods a wash of heat through his body. If he wasn't a virgin, he might try it. But these little meetings are dangerous enough without adding inexperience to something more involved.
He turns his face up and meets Dimitri's mouth. There's no hesitation in their kiss. His mouth just tastes like his mouth to him, but he wonders if there's a different something compared to earlier. They've never kissed when he was the one getting sucked but maybe he's been missing out.
Their foreheads meet instead as their mouths part for breath. Dimitri's red, sweaty face suddenly reminds him of the way he looks during training. As his teacher, it's not an association he needs, but it's one he wants now that he sees it. The only difference is in his blown-out pupils. "I want to see how much stronger your hands have gotten since last time."
Dimitri gets on his knees between his legs, smiling, eyebrows knitted in concentration (the training comparison comes up again; how can he look at him normally now on the field?) and has at his zipper with inappropriate familiarity.
The cool air feels like something his cock almost tangibly thumps into. It makes his dissipating body heat and the throbbing of his flesh stand out more. Dimitri's hands are nice and warm protection from the air though (like a cozy for his dick, he thinks, and almost snorts) and slightly damp with perspiration. Maybe that's why, but even the slight pleasure from his grasp makes him harder.
"It's good, right?" Dimitri asks, looking at him with an expression between beseeching and seductive. Something clashes between his half-closed eyes and half-smile. He jerks him off slowly, firmly, callouses dragging against the tender skin. They tingle a little, not quite irritation. "I'm good, right?"
"You're very good." The dry sound of skin on skin turns wet. It's hard to keep his breathing even. He's never gazed at him directly before during this. The look in his big baby blues is turning him on. "My best student... my favorite..."
"Please come, teacher. Please use my hands--"
His student's throaty voice urges him on into orgasm. He grabs Dimitri's elbow to steady himself through the pleasure rolling through his cock and lower belly. Everything in his head goes numb and he almost believes he imagines the soft 'I love you'. In the moment he feels the same.
Normally here is where his common sense would kick in, and the yes-no feeling would tilt completely to the other side. Maybe it's post-climax sentimentality, that almost whisper. What he feels now is tired... and nearly content.
After vision properly returns to his eyes, he sees Dimitri had the foresight to cup his glans. Semen plasters his hands like he'd tipped a glass of condensed milk on them instead. And his best, favorite student gives it only a moment's lookover before he starts sucking it up with an attitude of relish, like he was tucking into a favorite meal instead of his teacher's cockmilk.
The sight makes his cock jerk, with a sharp, painful burst of pleasure. "I don't deserve you at all, Dimitri."
Dimitri chuckles, muffled with fingers in his mouth up to the knuckle. They come out just as shiny-clean as Byleth had left his cock. "That's not true at all. Actually..."
Byleth carefully tucks himself back into his pants. He hasn't felt this sensitive in a long time. "Well, no way is it the other way around."
Dimitri says nothing to that, but has an expression of such naked adoration that it's plain to see he disagrees. His bottom lip is wet--with nothing more than saliva, but Byleth remembers what he wondered before. "I'll miss you until next time, teacher."
They kiss again, just touching lips, nothing gross if he doesn't want it.
But Dimitri has done so well surprising him this rendezvous that maybe he should do the same.
Maybe he does want it.
His tongue pushes in without resistance, though he feels a surprised sound vibrate into his mouth, and swirls everywhere it can. More of a thorough tasting than a deep kiss. It tastes like spit, yes, but with a bitterness underneath, and something almost like musk.
So this is a little of what his come tastes like. It's not bad but he's not inspired to gulp it down. Maybe the full thing is better.
Another peck on the lips seals the end. Dimitri wavers at the door, fighting habit before decorously bowing goodbye. Too cute.
The door clicks in closing--the last of the day.
He sighs, shoulders relaxing, and leans into his chair. It gets more enjoyable each time, and the feeling of unease he used to feel is nearly gone by now. Dealing with the upper-crust still wracks his nerves, given all the horror stories he's heard.
Dimitri first coming to him with his feelings had been a small nightmare; Byleth couldn't have known then what he was like, and the last thing he needed was to upset someone with so much higher a social caste than his. If he'd complained to someone after being rejected, or was upset by something during the affair, maybe made it sound like Byleth was being a creep, or worse... he doesn't know if they'd pop his head off for it (and the only reason he has any uncertainty is because of his father's importance) but it'd cause trouble.
Dimitri does seem to be a good-hearted young man, though, unlike a horror story... and, he's thinking more and more, quite sweet.