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Byleth knew that while Dimitri seemed completely gone, his mind lost in nothing but a haze of rage… He knew that in reality it was far from the truth. Yes, he was angry. He was angry beyond the comprehension of most people, with grief aching in his heart every single moment of his existence. But too far gone to understand his own actions? Hardly. He was compelled by his morals to kill to protect the weak, but killing itself was an evil act, so he himself must be evil. Therefore, if he was evil, he too shall die, and thus there was no point in being good to others, to appear happy, to make any more bonds with people that they were just going to lose in the end. 

It was selfish and selfless all at once. He refused the help of others, refused to let others in, both to protect them and to punish himself. And if they were in pain, it simply validated his position to distance himself, feeding into an endless cycle.

But Byleth also knew Dimitri still cared. He might try to claim he didn’t, claim he was just using them until their hearts stopped beating and all the flesh fell from their bones. Yet, he was the one who pushed Byleth out of harm's way, shouting “Professor, get down!” his voice rough and panicked. He was the one who purposefully killed enemies as Felix’s back was turned to them, so they couldn’t harm the raven haired man. He was the one who took all the hits and killed the most enemies to spare as many as possible the horror of taking a life. Others may call it bloodthirsty, desperate for gore and violence by his own hands, but Byleth knew it was out of protection. If one of them fell, he would be broken, he would mourn just as painfully as he did his parents.

Which is why Byleth stays. He stays in the hopes that he can be of use to him, though he wants to be more of use setting him on the right path where he will be loved and safe rather than be of use simply as a weapon. He wants so badly for Dimitri to be better, to expose that raw, painful wound of grief and let Byleth and the others tend to it and heal it. He knows Dimitri will never be whole again, but he doesn’t need to let it fester and rot. 

So Byleth would occasionally come to the cathedral, watching over him. Typically from the back, as silent as he can be. Honestly, getting past the gate without making too much noise was the hard part so late, but it could be done with practice. 

Dimitri mainly prayed and talked, he found, as he heard Mercedes claim. It was quiet, mainly, praying for salvation, praying for peace, and speaking to several of the ‘ghosts’ haunting him. At times it was incoherent, but that was a given, as he only heard mutterings of half the conversation. The other half was silent, deafening nearly, only Dimitri’s breathing and whimpering between them.

After a while, he grew quiet, before finally lifting his slumped head.

“How long do you intend to stand there and watch me?” He demanded, his voice echoing through the nearly empty cathedral. 

“I just want to make sure you’re alright.” Byleth replied, deciding now to walk forward toward the prince. 

He huffed in response. “‘Alright’?” His arms remained crossed. “As though anything about me is ‘alright’. I am nothing but a corpse.” 

Byleth had plenty he wanted to say in disagreement, but he knew the prince would not take any of them to heart. Instead, Byleth simply ignored the statement. 

“You should get some rest tonight.” Byleth stated, and Dimitri growled.

“Rest is for the weak. I have more important matters to attend to.” He frowned in response to the prince’s words.

“I don’t want to see you falter in battle.” 

“If I falter from something as pathetic as that, then I deserve my own end.” That Byleth was not going to let go. 

“You will not fall.” His eyes were hard, serious, and Dimitri turned to meet his glare.

“You are correct, because I will not fall from something so pathetic.” He tilted his head up to glare down at him properly. “Now leave.” 

“Dimitri--” Byleth grit his teeth. “I just--” 

“Just what ?” 

Byleth remembered how he wasn’t always like this. He has seen the love letters fall from his notebooks, never returned because he knew how flustered Dimitri would be. He remembered longing touches, his own hands resting near his closed up wounds long after the healing magic did it’s task. He remembered stroking his blond hair, carefully styled and cut, now overgrown and ragged. He remembers the shakey kiss shared between them in the goddess tower, as since there was no way for two men to make a wish, they might as well indulge themselves a bit. His lips were so cautious too, hands holding his arms in a grip slightly too tight, and his eyes looked so loving and so sad all at once.

How desperately Byleth wanted those moments back, or anything resembling them. He knew though, that even back on the right path as Rodridge asked him to put Dimitri on, he couldn’t ask of that from him. No, those were stolen kisses in a different time, a time when he didn’t have to think about kings and succession, wars and family lineages. Back when he was still a little ignorant and naive, despite how much it pissed Sylvain off. 

… Another part of him wanted more, still. Another part of him wanted a life after this war, just himself and Dimitri, and a family. He had the… Anatomy for it, despite what others tended to believe. But that was it, it would raise too many questions about him, and it would have too many people doubting his gender. Not to mention he was… Well, the vessel for Sothis, and important to the church. The people would never trust him as the King’s consort, not after the Empire declared war on them and stated they were merely controlling the continent through politics.

Besides, Dimitri was a different man now. A man hardened by war. A man who would need to focus on getting a good wife for his kingdom. A good wife for a good family. 

“Go on, say it. I can see it in your eyes.” Dimitri’s hand had grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Say it. Say you miss the pathetic boy I was back then. Say you want him back.” His voice was cynical, taunting, and Byleth knew what his answer would be if he said as much.

“That Dimitri is long dead. If you truly hate what I have become, then strike me down, kill me.” 

Instead, Byleth simply leaned in closer, before Dimitri had a chance to shove him away, and kissed him. At first, Dimitri did not respond, stunned by the affection, before quickly he shoved Byleth away. In his eyes there was a panic, he was startled, his rhythm thrown off, confused. It was slowly processing in his head as he brought one hand up to his mouth, running his fingers across his own lower lip. 

Byleth wanted to apologize, but before the sound could make it’s way out of his throat, Dimitri all but growled and lunged at him, grasping him by the shirt once more, and Byleth nearly fell back onto the tiled ground if not for the hand keeping him upright. 

“Do you pity me, Professor?” His eyes were so jaded and hard. “Is that it? Is that why you think you can kiss a beast?” 

“I don’t, Dimitri.” He answered honestly, though afraid. “I just--” 

“Nostalgia, then? You think you can self project your feelings of the past onto me?” He brought Byleth in even closer, until he could nearly feel the prince’s hot breath against his face. It was terrifying, Dimitri was wild and unpredictable like this, but he also couldn’t deny the excitement stirring inside him. 

“I don’t, I’m still--” Dimitri growled, trying to drown out his voice and stop him from saying it. “I’m still in love with you.” 

Silence followed, after that. Dimitri it seemed didn’t know how to respond. It crept on, seemingly endlessly, nothing but the sound of their breathing and the distant sound of crickets outside. 

Finally, the silence broke, as Dimitri brought him forward once more, placing a kiss onto his lips. It was much rougher than Byleth’s gentle, cautious one. Much, much rougher. Byleth still accepted it, holding onto his arms as he kissed the blond back with everything he had.

“I will use you,” He whispered, between fervent kisses. “I will simply use you, your body, and your heart.” 

“Then use me.” Byleth replied, the kisses stilling briefly. “Use me as you see fit.” 

The cathedral floor was not where he should be doing this. Then again, the crown prince of Faerghus was not who he should be doing this with . The whole situation was wrong, deeply wrong on many levels, not to mention risky . Still, he didn’t push Dimitri away. Perhaps he would simply stop once he stripped Byleth completely, stunned by the realization of his anatomy. 

He knew Dimitri wouldn’t tell the others though. That would be a waste of time when Byleth was still an asset to kill Edelgard. 

His armor and coat came off first, Dimitri kissing down his neck hastily, leaving a trail of bitemarks and bruises across any exposed skin, as his tunic came off next, his white shirt now exposed. Byleth would still drink up all of those, passionate, desperate kisses and marks from a man who needed sweet release if only for a moment. 

Once his shirt was undone, he paused briefly at the cloth binding his chest, before unraveling it impatiently. Byleth wondered what his next course of action would be, if he would climb off and leave Byleth there but…

His mouth ran down the expanse of his chest, kissing and nipping. He hissed, his teeth were so rough on his nipple, and he feared almost they would break skin, but he gave a whine of delight as Dimitri’s tongue soothed them, rolling around each one as he hurriedly undid Byleth’s belt and pants. Byleth helped as well, between moans, kicking his boots off as his leg armor went to the floor with a clatter. 

Dimitri undressed slightly as well, unclipping his cloak and letting it fall to the floor, before tossing the armor on his torso to the ground with a clatter in the other direction. Once he had more freedom of movement, he slid between Byleth’s bare legs, pulling them open to stare him down. 

Byleth’s face felt hot, being watched like this. He could only glance down to look at the prince eyeing him up those brief seconds, before he felt his tongue lick up his cunt firmly. It was a shock, certainly, and Byleth cried out as his hands buried themselves in Dimitri’s hair. 

Again, Byleth was reminded Dimitri was still there, still conscious. If he was just doing this for his own pleasure, genuinely, there would be no need for this, no need to go down on him, lapping at his lips eagerly, rolling his tongue against Byleth’s clit. It was honestly much better than any hurried and clumsy attempts at pleasuring himself that he resorted to. Dimitri’s mouth was so much hotter than his hands could ever be. Wet, firm, wild, a fire lit up in his eye that Byleth recognized as similar to the look he had back in the Holy Tomb five long years ago, but… Different somehow. Better. 

He was crying out Dimitri’s name in ecstasy, his voice growing more and more hoarse. Dimitri didn’t show him a shred of mercy, however, moving his tongue faster and harder, only taking breaks to lick up him long enough to seemingly make his body more sensitive and wanting. As it started to reach its peak though, the breaks of slow, hot licks up him ceased and he was mercilessly rolling around his clit with passion, eye twisted shut in focus, humming against him. 

“Dimitri~!!” He screamed out his name so loudly he honestly feared the rest of the ceiling will begin crumbling down on them, but it doesn’t, thankfully. His back arched, legs wrapped firmly around Dimitri, and the prince of lions did not even let him catch gasping breath as he forced Byleth to ride it out, his tongue still teasing at his hyper-sensitive body. 

Thoroughly pleasured, all of his joints feel weak, and he didn’t know if he could stand. Dimitri pulled up and gave him just enough time to recover as he began the work of marking up Byleth’s thighs next with messy sucking and bite marks. He could only whine weakly at the treatment, trying to focus on the world around him. 

Just as his head was beginning to clear from his orgasm, Dimitri pulled himself up, only briefly admiring the flustered mess he made of his old professor, before he rolled Byleth onto his cloak laying beside them and raised his hips. 

“Beasts,” Dimitri began, undoing his own pants to free his straining cock, and laying across Byleth. “Should fuck as beasts do.” A shiver ran down Byleth’s spine. The closest he has heard a swear fall from the prince’s pretty lips was the word “damned”, but to hear him utter out the word ‘fuck’ with his cock sliding against his dripping hole was enough to make him go mad. 

He didn’t ask, as he slipped inside, if this is Byleth’s first time. Perhaps he didn’t want to know, afraid of the act being any more emotionally intimate. Perhaps he simply assumed the answer was no, as Byleth groaned into the rough fur of his cloak and took inch after inch inside without complaint. Perhaps he did not care, and was content to imagine whatever he wished to make the experience more palatable. 

Byleth, of course, knew the answer. While he had not been above drunken kisses at inns while he traveled, attractive men and women alike eager to show him how to french kiss, wondering if they could make that stoic face flush and his cock aroused, sex was never on the table. Probably because they all failed to get the results they wanted, and Byleth had other things to worry about than building trust enough to be bare in front of people he would probably never see again. 

He wondered, biting down on the fur, if Dimitri was the same. If this was Dimitri’s first time, or if in the five years they’ve been apart Dimitri laid with another and took them just like this.

Dimitri wasn’t too rough to start with, which Byleth was grateful for. While the orgasm had done an excellent job making him soaking wet and slick, Dimitri was still huge. His cock was stretching him more and more as he thrusted, his body slowly giving way to accommodate him. It was so thick too, delightful in how much it almost hurt each thrust powerful and slow. He got deeper and deeper though, with every thrust, until he hit Byleth’s cervix in a way that he never thought could feel quite that good. 

As he picked up speed, panting, Byleth didn’t have to worry about keeping his hips up any longer as Dimitri had now taken over that. His hands were firm on his hips, nails digging in and Byleth knew he’d be seeing the crescent shaped bruises for a while after this. Now freed somewhat, he shifted his arms so one was supporting his head more comfortably, slipped under the fur so he could still inhale the scent of leather and Dimitri, his other sliding down so he could shamelessly rub his own clit. 

This is risky, he reminded himself, listening to Dimitri growl and moan in delight. How risky, he didn’t know, as he hadn’t bothered yet to find out. He always assumed if he were to do this with someone they would have time to talk, to prepare, giving Byleth ample time to research it. But he assumed from talks in villages of women trying for months to have a child that it shouldn’t be that bad. 

Though perhaps that was just him trying to stop the thoughts making his body ache in desire as another orgasm approached.

He wanted, every time his judgement started to lapse as Dimitri ground his cock so deeply into him, to have his child. He wanted the cathedral floor and blue cloak to be Dimitri’s bed, the prince pinning him down to fuck him long and hard just like this, whispering tenderly about how much he wanted Byleth and only Byleth to carry his child, his heir. He was getting wetter every second it crossed his mind, and it was getting harder and harder to reason with the thoughts as Dimitri’s hips thrust against his own, both holes of his body producing such unholy sounds in such a holy place.

“Dimitri~” He moaned out, without a care that Dimitri didn’t moan out for him. He had half a mind to warn the prince to pull out, to think clearly, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t pry himself from such dirty, terrible thoughts of the prince knocking him up, breeding him, taking his body for himself completely. He and the prince were not even married--could never be married as archbishop and king--but Byleth wanted nothing more than to bear that child. He wanted it so badly his eyes were watering, mouth drooling, orgasm just threatening to overtake him once more in bliss. 

Dimitri’s voice was rising too, getting louder and louder, before he spoke. 

“Take every last drop!” It was loud, rough, and commanding as his hand tugged Byleth’s head into position to bite down right where his neck and shoulder met. It’s more than enough to send Byleth crashing over the edge as white hot heat poured out into him, so very deep inside him. 

He did take every last drop, gasping and moaning in delight, thankful that the cloak is muffling all of his words of passion. Dimitri didn’t need to hear some of the things falling from Byleth’s lips, his begs for Dimitri to use him, to fuck a baby into him, to knock him up with the next prince of Faerghus. He doesn’t even want to hear those sinful words himself, but he couldn’t stop moaning them if he tried. 

Dimitri waited, catching his breath, before pulling out. Byleth whined in protest, feeling his seed drip out of his abused hole. He wanted it inside, he wanted it so very badly. Then, Dimitri fliped him over onto his back, silencing any words that would have tumbled out with a kiss. 

Byleth wondered if he’ll continue, or if he just wanted to messily explore Byleth’s mouth now that he’s fucked the professor raw. He clung to the blond either way, letting him use Byleth as he saw fit, as promised.

Eventually, Dimitri parted, one hand almost tenderly caressing the back of Byleth’s thigh, staring him down. His bright blue iris looked almost clear now, warm with satisfaction and--

No, Byleth won’t make assumptions on Dimitri’s feelings toward him. Not right now. Not after this, this moment of release, this moment of nothing more than give and take, of two beasts fucking. To believe there was requited love after all these years would be too much for his heart to bear when this all came crashing down on him the following day. 

Dimitri rose first, climbing off him to put his own armor back on in silence. Byleth laid there for a few more moments, fingers running along the embroidered cloak under him, before he too rose to redress and slide his armor back on. His legs still felt weak, but he would survive the trek back to his room in the dorms. After redressing, Dimitri sat on a pew, and once prepared to go, Byleth walked toward him once more. He stroked the blond locks with care, and Dimitri didn’t smack him away. He leaned into the touch ever so slightly, and Byleth enjoyed the last bit of affection he knew he would get away with, before retreating out of the cathedral. 

As expected, the next day the prince was cold as always, barely responding to Byleth or even Rodridge. It was as if the events the previous night had never happened, and Byleth would have been inclined to believe it was all a passionate dream if not for the marks riddling his body and the cum he needed to clean from himself the next morning. But that was to be expected, this was war, and their crown prince only really wanted one thing: the Emperor’s head in his hands, severed from her shoulders.

Soon, they would march to Gronder field where inevitably a battle awaited them. He didn’t have time to think about anything else besides training drills, planning supplies, and battalions. 

Besides, he mused to himself, it wasn’t as though anything were to have come of that night anyways.