Chapter Text
Dimitri hated betting games. He was never really particularly good at them, and Sylvain insisted that it was a skill, not simply luck. Unfortunately, the king of Faerghus lacked both when it came to these kinds of things. What’s done is done, and despite his creeping suspicion that one or all of them had cheated somehow, he deigns to take his loss and pay the price.
Aforementioned price was still being decided. So naturally, there was bickering between Felix and Sylvain with the thoughtfully quiet Byleth sitting neatly between them, stroking his chin as he considered the options being flung about.
“A full week, dedicated to training with me.” Felix proposes, and Sylvain scoffs at him.
“That only benefits you!” Sylvain counters.
“Well I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas.”
“Hold on I’m thinking!”
“I retain the power of veto.” Byleth adds evenly, feeling slightly responsible and keeping them from being too unfair to Dimitri. The king was trying his best not to look deeply concerned, though was failing.
“Wait!” Sylvain snaps his fingers, a wolfish smile overtaking his face as he turns to Dimitri. The more uncomfortable Dimitri looked, the more that Sylvain is leaning back, bracing one hand on the floor so he can lean his head into his shoulder coyly. “Dimitri. Are you still ticklish?” It’s posed less as a question and more of a statement. His eyes flick to Felix’s face as the idea settles with the swordsman, who seems to pass through a few stages of thought before deciding on an expectant look to their king.
“Uh.” Dimitri can already feel the heat in his cheeks. In addition, he sees Byleth’s eyebrows raise just a touch, the way they did when the man made a fortuitous realization. “I-I don’t remember. It’s been awhile since we were kids.” The nervous chuckle in his voice betrays him though, and when Sylvain reaches out to skitter his fingers up Dmitri’s side, he gives an entirely undignified yelp, jerking away and holding his hands up to discourage any further attempts.
“We have a winner!” Sylvain chirps happily, clapping his hands together with a decisive slap. “Okay, here’s your task then. Hold your arms up for five full minutes. If they come down, you get five more minutes tacked on.”
“But-!”
“Perfect.” Felix interrupts Dimitri’s protest, looking entirely too predatory.
“Seriously, Felix?” He would have expected his irritable advisor to be opposed to such silly games, but he did have a few drinks in him, and he recalled it was usually Felix who started things when they were kids -- though Dimitri usually won those in the past. One last desperate glance is shot to Byleth whose unreadable expression fills him with dread.
“Yes. I like this,” the archbishop decides finally, as casually as though he were picking what they were going to have for dinner. Dimitri swallows a small wail of despair back down. He’s going to be a good sport about this. He did lose… and as Felix always said, ‘the loser must pay tribute.’ A little tickling couldn’t be too bad, could it?
His last ditch attempt to move away from this is given: “What if I accidentally hurt one of you?”
“You’ll just have to not. I trust you, big guy.” Sylvain fixes him with that lazy grin and wink that makes him want to cover his face. “You can always tap out if you really want, but you know you’ll never hear the end of it if you do.”
Why did Sylvain always know the perfect ways to get under his skin? He can’t even pretend he isn’t blushing horribly now.
“All right.” Defeated, already. “Just let me lay down at least.”
As it is, he’s far too large for the little armless sofa in the reading room they had been playing their game in, his feet hang off the end of it. Reluctantly, he stretches his arms up and over the back, making him feel so vulnerable already. When Sylvain stands by, he already feels the urge to yank his arms down to protect himself from what he knows is inevitable. The first attack comes unexpectedly from Felix, who pinches the top of his knee, earning another broken yelp from Dimitri as he flinches.
“Nothing has changed,” Felix says, his lips curving into that smooth smile he usually reserved for his most cutting remarks. This time though, instead of saying something he would eventually have to apologize for, he seats himself on Dimitri’s legs and drags his fingertips up the soles of his feet. The reaction is immediate: the king arches off the sofa with a gasp, somehow managing to hold his arms in place.
“Th-that’s not fair, Felix!” He is only answered with a low chuckle from the other man. Those fingers are making a slower, more deliberate climb back down the way they came, earning a strangled sound that erupts into giggling.
“I’m barely touching you!” Honestly, it’s hard not to want to laugh with him, even for Felix. Especially for Felix. It’s a nostalgic sound, and it rings in his ears, driving him to continue his teasing. Sylvain doesn’t bother trying to hold back a laugh and he gleefully joins in, crawling his fingers up Dimitri’s side and making his laughter elevate to something more full. Between the two of them, it takes everything in him not to simply flail, and he clutches the back of the sofa to keep himself from giving in too soon.
Dimitri doesn’t realize he’s even closed his eye until he dares open it, catching a glimpse of Byleth standing over him, a rare smile spread across his face. Something about having his former professor see this, watch this happen and smile like that makes it all the worse. His cheeks blazing, he can’t hold back another bout of laughter as Sylvain’s fingers find his underarms and alternate between squeezing and drawing tight little circles in them.
“This isn’t fahahaaaair!” He feels like a child, wailing that phrase, but it’s all that comes to mind.
“Ah-ah-ah, your kingliness.” Sylvain stops, wagging a finger at him, and only then he realizes that his arms have come down to his chest. The lancer clicks his tongue, “You didn’t even make it two minutes. That’s five extra, buddy. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”
“Actually you di-pffAHAHA! No! Felix! Please! I wasn’t reheheady!” Felix apparently wastes no time in getting back to the matter at hand, as he’s turned around to tickle the backs of Dimitri’s knees rather viciously, making the man twist and squirm. When he feels someone lifting his shirt, he’s surprised to see Byleth tugging it up, a white owl pinion in his other hand. “Wait! Wait no, please I beg of you not there!”
“Not here?” The answer comes very coyly from the erstwhile professor, who punctuates it by drawing the soft feather across his belly, sending him into a fit of giggles and earning another penalty as his arms instinctively move to protect himself. As soon as he’s prepared again, the feather is back. He’s certain Byleth must have been tipped off by the other two that his stomach was his worst spot. With Felix back to tracing his fingertips just under his toes, Sylvain’s hands scribbling up and down his sides and under his arms, and the agonizing spiral Byleth was drawing around his abdomen, Dimitri is a mess of squealing raucous laughter that fills the room.
He’s given up the pretense of even hoping to be able to keep his arms up for this as he flops around like a fish under their assault.
“What about here?” Byleth’s voice directs him again, as he hovers the tip of that feather barely above the faint rise of his naval, and Dimitri shakes his head desperately, already starting to laugh over simply the threat. “I think so, yes.” Byleth’s voice is silky and it makes him feel like he’s about to lose his mind.
“NONONO PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THAT I C--” He’s getting used to being cut off mid-sentence, and he’s certain they’re doing it on purpose. Something he’d have to decide on later as that feather lands and flicks back and forth across his belly button. He’s fairly certain his laughter turns into a shriek for a moment. He’d be ashamed if he wasn’t currently wondering if it were possible to be tickled to actual death.
When he’s finally given a break, he’s gasping for breath, little strings of giggles still escaping as Sylvain rubs his palms over his stomach affectionately. Even Felix is smiling. Of course he’s embarrassed, it’s unbecoming of someone of his post to be so… vulnerable to such a thing. Still, looking at all of them so happy to simply make him laugh like this does cause him to melt a little. Even if it’s kind of at his expense.
“Your Highness.” Sylvain only ever calls him that in official spaces, or when he’s teasing him. This is definitely the latter. “I’m afraid to say that you’ve failed terribly at your challenge and now you’re going to get tied up.” To his credit, he does give Dimitri room to protest this. They’re all plenty aware that the man is sensitive when it comes to being restrained, but these are the three people he trusts most outside of Dedue of course… and quite honestly, he finds that despite his protests, he’s actually enjoying himself.
A little too much, actually.
Sylvain gives a pointed glance at the very apparent tent he’s pitching. The realization draws out a small wail of distress, covering his face with his hands.
“Really, Dimitri?” he hears Felix say with humor in his voice, “That’s almost adorable.”
“Nooooooooooo!” If ever there was a moment he wishes he could will himself out of existence it would be now.
“Come on Fe, be nice. It’s not like you’re not well acquainted with-”
“Shut up!”
“Dimitri.” He feels a gentle hand on his head, and peeling through his fingers he sees Byleth’s kind face looking down at him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not terribly unusual. Besides, I don’t think any of us would mind…”
“Oh yeah, for sure! I’m just teasing, I mean. Come on…” Sylvain catches onto the prompting rather quickly, looking at the floor in that way he does when he’s being honest.
Felix only makes a discordant sound that Dimitri recognizes as his trademark agreement.
The next few minutes pass with a conversation of whether or not they could lock the reading room, and eventually it’s decided to slip away to Dimitri’s quarters where he’s at least slightly less at-risk of obliterating a piece of furniture. Slightly.
“You can probably snap these.” Sylvain says matter-of-factly as he’s tying Dimitri’s wrists to the bedposts with some of the silk linens. He’s right, but for Dimitri, the suggestion of restraint is enough to remind him not to pull so hard, at least he hopes. His shirt discarded over the chair, he knows their eyes are on him, and Felix unbuckles his belt with startling familiarity, tugging his pants down to discard them as well, his cock bouncing free, making him wince at how hard he is. The pleased sound Byleth makes over it certainly doesn’t help the flush that’s crept all the way down his neck now.
Once his ankles are tied, Sylvain takes the opportunity to spider his fingers up the man’s thighs, making him gasp and jerk against the bonds.
“Just gotta test 'em a little.” Sylvain purrs.
“No more messing around.” Felix says impatiently, grabbing one of his ankles and scratching his nails against the arch of his foot, making Dimitri dissolve into sputtering laughter all over again.
“This is actually exclusively messing around,“ Sylvain mutters, but he’s all too happy to join the game and go after the pits of his knees again, watching their king’s powerful legs strain under the effort of keeping still.
What does make him start thrashing again in earnest is Byleth with those damned owl feathers. Why does he have two? Does he always have a billion of those things? Questions for another time when they’re not fluttering in his armpits and drawing meandering trails down his ribs. Despite being bound, it’s almost freeing to be allowed to laugh so openly, to give over everything to them. There’s no room to be in his own head like this, either. Fully focused on the sensations, and Sylvain pecking ticklish kisses along his belly, making him shriek every time he gets too close to the center.
Now the game has truly begun. Felix is merciless, and he’s probably the one who knows all of Dimitri’s worst spots and he tickles him with a viciousness that the other two lack. He almost borders on mean with how he’s certain to leave no patch of sensitive skin spared. Dimitri is almost sure he can see the man sporting a wicked little smirk from where he’s still sitting on his legs.
Stylvain’s approach is far more playful. Alternating between fast and slow, pausing to hover his hands to threaten his ribs, making Dimitri draw in giggling breaths at the mere anticipation of what’s to come. The lancer uses his mouth almost as much as he uses his hands. Dimitri didn’t know kisses could tickle this much, though to his credit, Sylvain does intersperse them with light nibbles along the lines of his muscles and spots where his bones press closer to the surface.
“Aw, Dima. Look at you, you’re so cute like this!” Sylvain coos at him, that trademarked lopsided smile of his making Dimitri want to cover his face desperately to hide his blush. “Just like when we were kids, right? I wonder if I can make you squeal like I used to…”
That threat alone is enough to make Dimitri’s voice pitch up an octave.
“Let me do it, you can’t have all the fun.” Felix cuts in, shooing Sylvain away as he crawls up to lay with his chin resting on Dimitri’s hip. Sylvain whines, but far be it from him to deny Felix anything, really. “Dimitri. You always used to win these until I got Sylvain involved. Consider this a repayment.”
“Felix, please-” Dimitri starts, but he sucks in a sharp breath when the swordsman leans down and brushes his lips into the cup of his hip, raising goosebumps on his skin. He’s laying right against his cock, too. He does take some solace in that Felix is clearly flushed, not completely unaffected at the proximity. When the lithe man shifts against it, pushing himself up, Dimitri’s voice hitches. He’s still squirming, knowing any second now, they’ll start tickling him again, even though the feathers have stilled and Sylvain’s touches have withered to soft little traces of fingertips. Enough to give Felix room to look exceptionally smug as he draws in a deep breath. “Oh- oh please no, that’s too much!” His protests are superficial. He knows it, and they know it, because Felix takes that as his queue to bury his face in the king's belly and blow. The sensation, mixed with the absurd sound it makes does indeed produce the absolutely undignified shrieking, panicked laughter Sylvain had sought. He bucks uncontrollably as Felix spends his breath and the professor and Sylvain take their chance to start up again.
He can’t ignore the way the fabric of Felix’s pants feel, rubbing on his trapped length even while he’s trying desperately to arch away from one of the owl feathers as it flits in to kiss behind his ear. The more breathless he gets, the less he can deny how good it feels. He jerks when he feels the soft tines of that same feather break over the peak of a nipple. Satisfied with the reaction, Byleth curiously repeats the motion. While his two long-time friends certainly know how to wring out those deep belly-laughs from him, the professor is far more meticulous. Exploratory, even. Somehow that makes it even worse, given how hard he is to read. When both of those feathers descend on his nipples to trace circles around them, it’s such a strange overwhelming sensation. It tickles so acutely, but he can feel himself arching into it, whimpering mixed in with his breathy laughter.
“B-Byleth please that’s- haha! Sensitive!” And it’s making him writhe every time those soft tips flick against him. Faster and faster until he has to screw his eye shut to endure it.
“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Does it feel good, though?” The feathers wander away, down his ribs to tease his naval again before returning to their task. “Ah, it must. They’re hard.” The observation is delivered deadpan as everything else, and Dimitri can only turn his face into his shoulder to try and hide from it. “What if I did it down here?”
He feels Felix’s weight lifted off him as he snaps his eyes open, only to see Byleth dragging his weapon of choice down to his hips. It’s agonizing in a whole new way, and he bucks again, desperately trying to shake off the feeling of those soft feathers dancing along his waistline and down into the crease where thighs meet hips.
“AHAHA! Oh-hoho noooooo!” His wail is cut into a sharper sound as one of those feathers licks up the length of his cock. Another conflicting sensation. When it’s repeated, he finds himself falling apart into peels of breathy giggling. “Oh that’s- oh goodness, please I beg you, take mercy! I can’t!”
Of course, mercy is not had, and Byleth’s smile widens into something more wicked as he flutters the plume up and down his erection, watching it twitch and bob uselessly under the soft torment. It’s only made worse by Sylvain who’s teasingly wiggling his toes somewhere behind Byleth. He can hear the man laughing over it with Felix who seems to be taking far too much pleasure in making him squirm than ought to be fair. Felix, who is playfully poking his ribs and belly, quite pleased with himself. He wishes he could hide his face from them, it made him want to scream every time he caught one of their gazes. He nearly does when he feels a second feather join the first in painting his cock with vibrant sensation. Every time they pass over the head, he feels his hips jump, straining for more of that feeling. Anything but the impossibly maddening tickling.
That’s all he would get though. Despite himself, he’s dragged kicking and screaming closer and closer to a climax he thinks couldn’t possibly happen like this. His laughter grows ragged, more frantic as he does. It doesn’t happen quickly, not with that light of stimulation, but being touched and tickled all over like this, it eventually, inevitably, catches up to him. He’s a keening mess by the time it does, there’s some incoherent words of warning that none of them heed, before he’s spilling all over his belly and hips in messy, warm lines.
He expects them to stop as his trembling quiets, but instead they tickle him through the orgasm, and right into the state of oversensitivity. It isn’t until his laughter becomes nothing but a barely-audible cluck of sound that comes out for the intensity of it, they stop, allow him to catch his breath and gather himself. The feathers are abandoned by Byleth, who reaches to untie his wrists before tucking himself into the king’s side.
Felix quietly takes up the space at his other side with Sylvain close behind him. Dimitri isn’t really sure if there’s anything he should, or can say. Certainly, they had all been intimate before, but- well. This is new. Regardless, he’ll enjoy the closeness until the time comes to clean up the evidence. Though there may be more yet- after all, he can feel how hard Byleth is against his leg, and the way Felix is pushing against him. Sylvain is naturally, always ready. He doesn’t even need to check.
“Well. Who gets to go next, then?” Dimitri asks, kidding of course. Still, his head turns to Felix. Probably the second easiest of them to pick on. Byleth and Sylvain need no prompting to follow his gaze. The swordsman takes a few seconds to realize that all of them are staring directly at him, and he’s lost even before he can raise a protest.
“Why?!” His plaintive cry of indignity ringing out, as he immediately regrets placing himself between Dimitri and Sylvain in the first place.