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Byleth can feel the duke glaring into the side of her face, and she knows he absolutely doesn’t wish to be here. Unfortunately for Felix Fraldarius, he is required by oath and responsibility as the Royal Sword to be present for this, even though she knows he would rather be hacking away at someone.
At his lowest, he would settle for a swinging log.
He would also settle for probably punching the living daylights out of Duke Aegir, who is definitely getting a tad bit too friendly with the leader of the United Kingdom of Fodlan. Certainly, all of her former students hold her dear to their heart, but seeing Duke Aegir rest his filthy hand on his wife’s elbow sends some sort of rage into his spine that could only be diffused with hand-to-hand combat that would preferably result in death.
Actually, he takes that back. He wouldn’t settle for it. He would pay to do so.
“Hey, man, i’s’all cool,” Sylvain tells him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and wheeling him in a one-eighty so that he doesn’t have to watch his wife actually laughing at one of Duke Aegir’s jokes about his very lovely, long hair.
Fuck Ferdinand for talking to his wife and also fuck Sylvain for keeping him from simply going ape shit.
His idiotic best friends knows exactly that he’s ticked off, because unfortunately for everyone, the margrave has been in so many situations where he had been in Duke Aegir’s situation on purpose. Sylvain knows that he doesn’t mean it that way, but he knows that Felix means it in every way and would use a candelabra to beat the shit out of the former prime minister’s son.
Stupid redheads , Felix thinks. They truly have no souls.
“I’m going to stick tree sap in his fucking hair,” Felix mutters into his goblet, brows furrowed. Sylvain chuckles, taking the alcohol away from him, knowing that if he actually went halfway through the drink, he would become a malady within the banquet hall. “The gummy type, Dimitri-style. Ass.”
An amused snort escapes the Margrave Gautier as he suddenly remembers that Felix knows about this because he had done it to the black-haired man many years ago. He had also set it up so that it looked as though Dimitri had done it. The poor, unknowing prince had been sucker punched by a livid Felix.
Even up to this day, Sylvain hadn’t owned up to it, and doesn’t exactly plan on doing so.
“Yeah, I don’t think trees are in season for-- Uh-- Uh, Fel--”
Sylvain looks over his shoulder, only to see a brown leather glove getting in contact with Duke Aegir’s jaw. There’s the sounds of shouts and struggle and Sylvain grins at no one in particular, taking a step back and hiding the cup of alcohol behind him.
No one’s gonna know.
How would they know?
“Explain yourself.”
Byleth is absolutely enraged, but it’s only visible through the glare that she’s shooting in Felix’s direction along with her tone of voice. She’s staring him down as he stands several feet away from her in their private quarters, hands on his hips like she’s the one who had punched Ferdinand in the face.
“How about you explain yourself, sweetheart?” He snaps back, shaking his head. “How the hell are you going to let that ugly beast just rear its head like he’s your pet? It’s disgusting. And you letting him put his hands on you? On your lower back ? What the fuck ?”
The leader of the continent stares him down, unsure as to what to say before she promptly loses her mind, because she’s just about to. She’s had an incredibly difficult day in dealing with the tariffs and the legislations that needed to be passed along with the extra grant needed by multiple educational institutions.
And now her husband, her beautiful, strong, and idiotic husband had to ruin everything for her after she had managed to score a sum of money from Duke Aegir in the upcoming educational projects.
The two of them often crossed swords, not only in the training hall but also in terms of...well… everything. Granted that Byleth would usually take the high road and just let Felix run his mouth in terms of nagging and saying some relatively-rude things, she would stay silent and let him embarrass himself.
Usually that would happen.
Or sometimes she would snark right back at him for some underhanded and unintentional misogynistic comment, his understanding of general women’s rights usually going into the can and down the drain.
At least until she would smack him upside the head.
And she’s this close to doing exactly that.
“Listen, Fraldarius, I’m not in the mood for this.”
She turns her back to him, heading towards the door of their chambers so she could get back to the banquet. After all, her board members had worked so hard to put this all together and she had also struggled with the details of making sure that it would accommodate any and all of her previous students.
Behind her, Felix follows closely.
“Right back at you, Fraldarius . Or do you not want that last name anymore?”
Her hand hovers over the knob of her door and she knows better, she should definitely ignore her little bitch of a husband and just get back to the party. That is the very much, absolutely so, one hundred fifteen and a half percent correct choice.
They could just resolve this issue later.
“Is that what you want, huh, Mrs. Aegir ? Wanna get into that stupid fucking duke’s bed?”
Sothis, Cethleann, Cichol, Indech, Macuil, and all the other saints, amen .
Fucking hell.
Turning sharply on her heel to face him, the flat of her palm strikes across his face, hard enough to turn his face to the side. In mere seconds, there’s red that’s rising to the epidermis of his pale skin as his nostrils flare slightly, chest rising and falling a bit too rapidly.
Instant regret seeps into her veins.
“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath, hand shooting out to her throat and shoving her against the wall, his body pressed against hers before he captures her lips with his.
It’s not a gentle kiss. In fact, it barely is one with how they’re both kissing mostly with their teeth and tongue, hard enough to puncture flesh and more than enough force to reach an overpowering stalemate. Both of them are strong, stubborn, angry, and pent up.
The way his fingers are around her throat, tight enough to make it difficult to breathe, is intoxicating. It forces her to kiss him back as though he’s the oxygen her lungs are screaming for, and she’s quite certain every single cell in her body is doing the same.
She knows they’re both going to end up in bruises (mostly on the neck), badges they’d wear in both pride and humiliation at the same time.
Perhaps other couples may have… healthier relationships where they could talk it out, but the Fraldarius couple seem to take things out through some type of physical violence. Sometimes it’s in the gymnasium and sometimes it’s in the bedroom.
Sometimes the bedroom, because most of the time it’s wherever they can manage -- the greenhouse, the third-floor balcony, the cardinals’ room -- anywhere that’s easy enough for Felix to unbuckle his trousers and lift his wife’s robes up and slip into her intoxicating heat.
As she sucks his lower lip into his mouth, he lets out a groan, hand letting go of her throat to rest both on her waist. He pulls her tight to his body and she feels how firm his chest is against hers, knows every single angle and curve to his muscles. Just like this, she can feel how hard he is against her, and she knows that he’s been pent-up way too long.
“ Felix ,” she murmurs into the kiss, and when she feels the way his lips curve into the faintest hint of a smirk, she knows that it’s sealed. Reaching behind her, she locks the door of their private bedroom. His hands move to unbuckle his belt, a process which usually takes quite some time, given the many straps and buckles that are attached to the leather.
With her husband busy making work of his belt, she continues kissing him, half-pushing him as she walks him backwards to the bed. Calves hitting the bed, he gets shoved onto the mattress. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, brows raised slightly as he looks up at her, the belt finally unlooped and resting onto the bed.
Tsk, tsk.
In the blink of an eye, Byleth snatches the sturdy strip of bound leather. Felix picks up on this, body reacting just a millisecond too slow. The problem is that Felix, in all of his strength and fighting prowess, is usually a second or two slower than his wife and definitely not as agile or nimble.
That and the sips of alcohol are more than enough to not only hold a red cape in front of his rearing temper, but also disjoint his response time.
It takes less than three heartbeats as she’s on him, the belt wrapping and tightening around his wrists before pinning them over his head. A wheeze escapes him as he struggles while she adjusts him on the mattress, an angry scowl on his face while he tries to wrench himself free, only for her to plant her plush ass onto his groin, keeping him from moving.
He tries to buck her off by shunting his hips upwards, only for a groan to escape him with how her weight is pressing just perfectly onto his crotch, nostrils flaring as he stares up at her defiantly.
Checkmate.
Unfortunately (for him), he’s not willing to back down so easily.
“Bitch.”
His eyes widen as his head is roughly slapped to the side, vision fogging up with tears as he grits his teeth. When he turns to face Byleth once more, there’s an unamused expression on her face as she shakes her hand, the palm red -- probably as red as his cheek.
At least she got the other so now they’re equally crimson.
“Try again,” she states, her gaze unwavering as his even though they’re stinging hot from rage and unshed tears.
“How fucking dare y--”
“Try again .”
He gets slapped again, this time twice in a row and he’s panting, eyes wide and tears actually beginning to cling to his thick lashes before he looks up at her.
Felix looks shocked and affronted almost, somewhere tangled in the cocktail of heady anger and lust. Thighs twitching under the weight of his wife, he digs his lip onto his lower lip, not willing to give in just yet. He’s hard, a bit too hard beneath her clothed cunt and even though the layers of their clothing, he can feel the heat of her sex and goddess does he twitch in the confines of his trousers.
The man has too much pride, way too much pride to--
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry.”
Never fucking mind , she guesses.
It’s a tiny, choked-out response but Byleth allows him that. She leans in, planting very delicate kisses along the redness of his cheeks and he hums, eyes closing at the sensation. He’s still very much upset, but there’s something about the way she touches him with such tenderness after beating the shit out of him that gets his heart throbbing along with his dick.
He’s so whipped. Goddess, he’s humiliated.
“Will you be good?” She asks after planting a chaste kiss onto his lips. He nods his head. “Good. If you don’t like something, tell me, alright?” Again, he nods his head. Byleth smiles; he seems just a tad bit frightened of opening his mouth now. Good. She rewards him with her lips, kissing him leisurely before pulling away, enjoying the soft sound of annoyance from her husband.
Slowly, she lets go of the wrists that she has pinned above his head. The belt stays on, she tells him, but she allows him to pull his hands to his chest so it doesn’t strain him too much because of course , she’s nice.
Byleth busies herself with her clothes, the many layers of her robes and extra capes along with her tiara. It’s a lot of pieces and every day seems to be an interesting affair of Felix and a maid struggling to help her get all the items on, even though she claims she can do it herself. Whenever she does it herself, it looks a little bit wonky and her husband usually has to call one of her ladies-in-waiting to assist with her hair. Evenings would usually be spent with him on a plush armchair with the archbishop seated on a cushion on the floor between his legs, his fingers busy with picking out tangles and brushing out her mint locks with a brush that Dorothea had sent to her.
In the back of his mind, he had wondered how it had come to this, one of the most feared swordmen in all of Fodlan becoming a bodyguard, personal assistant, and lapdog all in one.
Regardless, he thinks, as he watches his wife undress herself.
The evening haze of the late summer sun with its stubborn twilight creeps a glow into the room through the open windows, casting the softest glow around the room. She looks perfect, so perfect, he thinks to himself, the light catching onto the curves of her thick hips and the dip of her waist. In comparison to the end of the war, there is more of a softness to her now and it’s visible with the tiniest pudge on her belly that while he gently teases her for, he loves so much.
While he does hate the idea of no longer being subjected to life-and-death situations on the battlefield, he knows he must celebrate the peace and tranquility that had been blanketed across Fodlan. His wife had brought it to the continent and he had fought by her side and would stand by her until he no longer could. The softness on her stomach and thighs are just testament that their lives have changed, and he wonders somewhere in the back of his mind if he could possibly see her a little more swollen in her belly, round and glowing.
But that thought is punched to the back of his head as she moves up along his body and he has but to choke back a moan with how he’s straining and shifting underneath her. He’s desperate for friction, but that’s an issue for another time.
Fingers running through his hair, she adjusts herself as she straddles his face. She doesn’t have to even tell him when she lowers herself down a bit, making sure that she’s not completely crushing his handsome face. They’d have to explain to Manuela that she had accidentally broken his nose through sparring, and the doctor would simply look at them with a deadpan expression before nodding her head slowly.
Not really interested in that.
“Good boy,” she whispers out, half-petting his head when his tongue darts out to lick at her folds. He downright moans, hands balling into fists at his restraints at the taste of his wife’s sweetness. He’s been deprived for so long, after the many days of her being so incredibly busy that any free time meant just enough for her to eat, bathe, and sleep. As much as he would wish he could bend Byleth over at her table, he knows enough to not bother her and simply just be there for her whenever he could.
Fuck. He’s turning into Hubert.
As his tongue flicks lightly over her sensitive nub a few times before adjusting himself a bit more so he can rub over her entrance in slow, maddening swipes. She tastes so sweet that the thought of being similar to the Imperial lapdog is pushed very, very far to the back of his head. If this is what it means, he wouldn’t mind wearing a collar for her.
She moans above him, head tilted back so that he can’t really see her face from this angle. He’s certain it’s twisted in pleasure with the way she’s leaking out her arousal, his mouth eager to lap it up. And so he does so, flicking up against her sensitive bundle of nerves before pushing his tongue into her tight heat. Her thighs tighten around his head and she pants softly, moving herself in tandem with the way that he’s sliding his tongue into her dripping hole then out and up along her folds and to her clit.
It’s mesmerizing really, with how she shakes above him and he can’t help it, can’t help how he angles himself to taste more of her, his hips moving upwards so he can stealthily rub his confined cock against his bound hands. As he moans, it shoots up vibrations along her body, causing her to gasp, pushing her closer and closer to the end that she wants so badly.
That he needs so badly.
Angling his neck so that he can simply fuck his wet muscle in and out of her aching cunt, he focuses on doing the best that he can to eat her out. When she’s this shaking atop him and praising him for being such a good, good boy -- who is he to stop? So he continues pushing his tongue in and out, bound hands rubbing over his clothed dick as his nose bumps against her clit and she just keens.
And she’s cumming, cumming because of just his tongue and Felix feels a swell of pride in his chest as he pushes his hips up against his wrists and--
And he’s panting against her quivering pussy, groaning and he feels a suddenly lift of pressure from both his hips and his shoulders as he’s cumming as well too. Maybe he should be embarrassed that he’s reached his climax from eating pussy and grinding against himself, but his chest is lifting and falling and---
And his wife is seated by his side, staring at him and that’s when he realizes it as he shudders from the after-effects of his orgasm.
“Did you just cum without permission...?”
He stammers, mouth wet and yet throat dry. “I’m s-sorry--”
Sighing, she shakes his head at him and he feels so small next to her because he knows, as Sylvain puts it He Done Fucked Up .
Felix knows well enough that he needs to be honest when it comes to sex, knows that communication is key when it comes to making love or way inside the bedroom in order to keep each other physically and emotionally safe. He also knows that in this context with Byleth looking at him with such an expression, he needs to not lie.
With a sigh, she unbuttons his trousers, tugging them down and he’s panting, caught between the throes of a rushed orgasm and humiliation. When she’s managed to pull off his cum-stained underwear, his cock slaps up to his navel, still somehow hard after having peaked. As he looks over at Byleth, taking in the pink that’s dusting across her cheeks because of him , a little bit of his ego simmers back to the surface of his pot.
“Get me out of this so I can fuck you properl-- Mmfth--!”
His eyes widen comically before squinting in an angry glare as his cum-soaked smallclothes are shoved into his mouth. Byleth hovers over him, a vexing smile on her features as she strokes his head.
“Will you ever learn?” She asks with a sigh, tracing the bulge of his underwear through his teeth.
If she’s to answer her own question, it would probably be no, not really . Felix Hugo Fraldarius is an incredibly stubborn person with a sharp tongue and very sharp sword, eager to just get into a fight knowing that he has the upper hand. She doesn’t fault him for that, knows that it’s part of her charm and part of the reason why she had said yes back at the Goddess’ Tower.
Leaning in she kisses his forehead and he growls (as much as he can through his wet underwear). “If there’s something you aren’t comfortable with, darling, just shake your head, alright? And I’ll stop.”
There’s still an angry expression on his face but it softens just for a fraction of a second as he nods his head.
“Good boy,” she murmurs, caressing his cheek and he hates himself for leaning in to her touch, but with how he’s (barely) bound, he’d do anything for a crumb of anything physical. After all, his relationship with the whole goddamn leader (and practically emperor… ) of the continent existed with him having to watch male royalty suck up to his wife.
If he could have a sign around his neck that said “don’t talk to my wife or I’ll fucking cut you, shithead” and Byleth having a sign that said “hi am wife”, that would work. Sadly, he wouldn’t be allowed anything of that sort.
A groan could be heard somewhat through the makeshift gag when she rubs his thighs. Moving downwards and in between his legs, she makes herself comfortable before licking up such a hot stripe from his balls up along the thick vein on his shaft to the tip. Felix’s brain short circuits, the leftover sensation of the high still hanging like a thin mist in his strained mind.
He shivers, arms shaking at the apex of where his wrists are held together and he knows that if he tries hard enough he could break through the bonds. He could, he really could-- And as he angles his head so he can watch his wife bobbing that pretty little mouth up and down on his cock, he absolutely fucking can break out of these godforsaken fucking fetters .
But no!! No, he got this, he definitely got this, because if he doesn’t just lie and take it she’s going to give him that look that would make him feel like some type of troglodyte. Fuck, goddess, help me , he sobs in his head and behind his gag as she slobbers around his cock, just the way that he likes it.
When she moans around him, he matches it. The vibration emanating from her perfectly mouth is just sending him in a downward spiral along with what mental capacity he has left. His thighs are trembling and he’s using every single ounce of his last remaining willpower to not buck into her mouth.
“Mmhh.” She pulls off his cock with a very wet pop, small hand fisting him and the tears are freely running from his eyes, no more shame holding him together. Seams? They’ve ripped apart at the edges a whole while back, there’s just no bits of frayed thread at this point. Completely gone. “Do you want to cum, Felix?”
Feverishly, he nods his head, clothed chest still heaving up and down, and pupils blown so wide that his irises appear black.
Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, I am, been good. Been so good for you, haven’t I?
She pushes him upwards and he follows her directions, inching himself up along the bed until he thinks he’s in the position she wants him to be in, sitting up against the cushions with his back against the headboard.
To be fair, he’s a little bit confused, although he doesn’t mind the slight change in angle.
But as she straddles his hips, the poor swordsman has no idea what he’s done right (and wrong). Brows furrowing in anticipation, he watches as she guides his cock to her entrance, the leaking tip kissing her pink folds. With one hand on his shoulder as leverage, she continues the action, heavy exhales escaping Felix’s nostrils from the sensation before finally finally finally goddess finally taking pity on him.
With both her hands on his shoulders, she wiggles her hips a bit, the cockhead pressing against her leaking hole. There’s a muffled noise behind his gag and she’s pretty sure it’s him telling her to go slow on herself, but when have they ever really listened to each other?
His head smacks against the headboard a little bit too hard, and that’s definitely the reason why he’s seeing stars. It’s definitely not because of the sensation of her hot, velvety walls enclosing around him as she slowly rocks her hips, moving herself down two inches. Back up an inch. Down another two more.
Felix is panting, arms bent at the elbow with his forearms pressed against his chest as though he’s in prayer and he is. His wife’s chest is pressed up against him, her hands on his shoulders still and squeezing as she manages to have her plush ass resting against his bare thighs.
The man is downright gone now and when he opens his eyes, he’s a bit satisfied in seeing that Byleth’s well on her way too with her pupils so blown.
“So big, Felix…” Leaning back just a bit, she puts her hands onto his ankles, preventing him from moving and gifting him with a perfect view of her tits. He salivates around the gag, wanting not only his hands on her perfect breasts, but his tongue sliding over the nipples before sucking them into his mouth and gently biting. Gently .
She begins moving in slight rocks first, testing the waters because at this angle he’s so far inside her. It’s so deep, he thinks to himself, so deep and so tight with her soaking walls feverishly hot and clenching around his cock. Beneath her ass, his thighs twitch, body trembling while she gets herself off like this, bringing herself up and down on his fat dick, enjoying the way that it’s spreading her open.
Were he in his right mind and no cum-soaked underwear in his mouth, he’d tell her how pretty she looks right now, just using him as though he’s just her toy. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care if that’s the case, if he’s her toy and nothing but. He wants to give her pleasure in any way he can, wants to be the reason why there’s sweat running down her face, wants to be the reason why she’s gasping for air, wants to be the only one who sees her like this -- bouncing on his cock like there’s nothing else in the world that she wants right now.
Felix watches the way that she lifts her ass, the head of his manhood barely keeping her open before she slams down with a smack. She has so much stamina and he’s proud of being able to keep up with her, although currently it entails simply sitting and taking it. And so he does (somewhat) willingly, enjoying the feeling of her warm cunt enveloping him and watching him disappear in her.
He knows Byleth’s also skilled in magic, but for her to manage bouncing and slamming her ass back onto his thighs and pussy just swallowing up a cock of his size? Downright miraculous.
The man is so close, and he knows that she is too with how she moves forward once more into a more straight-sitting position on his cock. With this angle it shoves his tip up against her cervix, the action causing her to gasp at the shocking sensation. Both hands once more onto his shoulders, she leans against his chest, grinding down hard and groaning in his ear.
His eyes shut tight, stomach pulling knots and nerves doing somersaults as she rocks her hips back and forth. His cock is impossibly deep inside her, and when she pushes forward it rubs against that spot in such a way that she clenches hard around him. Forehead resting against his, she keeps on that action to chase the way her clit rubs against his skin in search for friction as his tip prods along her sweet spot.
The light is basking the whole room in some otherworldly glow and Felix is pretty sure that he’s having some sort of vision of paradise with the goddess’ vessel on his dick like this, taking pleasure from him for her. He’s certain this is some sort of ritual sacrifice where she gets impregnated by him, only for her to murder him later. He doesn’t mind. Fuck, he’d die a hundred more times if that meant getting to have her whisper his name out as though it is a some type of prayer.
“Gonna cum for me, Felix?” She breathes out, hips rocking faster, harder and all he can do is moan and take it. There are tears running down his face prettily, devoid of any semblance of pride as he looks into her eyes, knowing that he’s so gone. He’s so whipped. So done.
With a haggard groan, he cums first, cums so hard inside her pussy that she can feel him leak inside her. “Shit,” she breathes out, grinding her hips at a faster pace as he whimpers, the sensation of his neatly-trimmed body hair rubbing against her clit sending her over the edge as well.
Byleth’s cunt milks him dry, both of them riding out their orgasm together as she rocks her body leisurely to ride out their high. Slumped and panting against the headboard, Felix flutters his eyes shut, his torso and thighs quivering from the intense orgasm as his wife’s walls still flutter around him. He would think it’s cute, her pussy trying to milk him more of his seed, but his brain is as spent as his cock.
Felix barely registers when she frees his hands of the leather belt, but he does mentally come to when she pulls off with a wet squelch. The coldness sends a shiver down his spine, and the empty ache does the same for her as she reaches over to pull the gag from his mouth.
Swallowing hard, he tiredly lifts a hand to rub at his cheek as Byleth massages the other one and his jawline. “So good for me,” she murmurs as she helps him to lie more comfortably onto the mattress and against the pillows.
Felix sighs, body spent and yet still thrumming as he turns on his side to face her, an arm slinging over her waist. She faces him as well, hand gently rubbing still at his face to ease the ache that the makeshift gag would have brought on him. He leans into her touch, looking incredibly pleased when she plants soft kisses along his face, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys the affection.
Byleth’s heart aches at how beautiful he is right now, pink across his cheeks and some loose tears still running down. His chest still hiccups slightly from having cried earlier.
His hand rubs up and down her side, hand resting on her hip. She has the urge to roll her eyes. “Byleth… can I…?” With him being good for her (at least for halfway until the end), how could she possibly say no?
When she nods her head, she’s pushed onto her back with her husband hovering over her. He kisses her, and although he still has the energy to go more than just an extra mile, he’s not in a rush. The man is a bit calmer down, head still buzzing from the drop and the high as he wedges himself between her plush thighs, hands moving up and down on either of them.
As he moves his hips forward, cock rubbing against her wet folds, he groans into the kiss. She’s wet there because of him, because she had enjoyed bouncing like a bunny on his cock, wet because he had filled her with his cum. And now, he’s going to do it again.
(And again.)
Sucking her lower lip into his mouth, he grinds himself against her, drawing out sweet moans into the kiss as he licks in. She lets him, lets him run his tongue in against hers in a nearly lazy rub.
But Duke Fraldarius, the Sword, her husband is far from lazy.
After a few minutes of him kissing her filthily, he’s hard once more -- hard and sensitive to the point of pain but fuck if Felix doesn’t get off giving and receiving pain?
So he pushes into her with little resistance, the slipperiness of her slick with his seed allowing him to have an easy glide into her used cunt. Felix doesn’t know where to look while he moves his cock into her -- not sure if he should watch the way her swollen lips spread so fucking wide around him to adjust to his girth. He’s not sure if he should watch her face and the way her eyes glaze over slightly before going half-lidded, head tilting back against the cushions.
He doesn’t know where to look, but he takes it all in, takes it all in just like how her body is taking his whole cock.
It’s hot, maybe a bit too hot and he has been overheating and sweating under all his upper garments and so he sheds himself of all of that, tossing them aside so he’s also as naked as she is. She seems incredibly satisfied with the sight, enjoying how his chest muscles flex with every moment. Her hands slide up to his pectorals, enjoying the feeling of his firmness there and giving it a little squeeze.
He may be calm, but he doesn’t start off with a slow pace.
Large, rough hands on her slender waist, his grip is a bruising vice as he pulls her down onto his cock when he pulls out nearly all the way. The man’s actions are fluid, hips moving in tandem with how he’s practically yanking her onto his dick.
“Good, so good to me,” she murmurs out dreamily, lips parted as she looks up at him. “So good to me, with your fat cock, spreading me open so good.”
His breathing stutters along with his pistoning hips. Perhaps he should be embarrassed, but he does feel the pit of his stomach coiling up in a tense string of fire. “Fuck. Byleth--”
The woman holds her tits together, fingers rubbing and pinching at her nipples as she moans beneath him. She’s clenching hard around him and he knows it’s from her own actions and-- and he swoops down, mouth catching one of her nipples and flicking his tongue over it. He continues to shove his cock into her swollen cunt while he moves onto her other breast, teeth softly sinking into the flesh there before giving similar treatment with the prior one.
“So good to me, my love, so good at t-taking what I give and--” She keens when his hips push in so hard, so fucking hard that she sees stars, her walls clamping down hard enough for him to see the galaxy that she’s in as well. “--so good at fucking me. Goddess, you’ve ruined me--”
When he reaches down to lightly press against her clit is when she snaps, a silent scream escaping her before she inhales deeply. The action causes a ripple effect, her body convulsing in pleasure from the third orgasm of the night as her spine bows away from the mattress.
“Nghh--! Fuck, B- Byleth--!” He cries out, leaning in and burying his face in her neck, thumb still stroking her sensitive nub.
Felix fucks her like a man possessed, bruising the flesh of her waist as he pounds into her, the sound of skin slapping loud in the air as he continues to abuse her used hole. She’s barely there, barely hanging onto that thread as his cock slides in and out of her ruthlessly until he stills, pushing in as hard as he can while groaning against the crook of her neck.
Her walls are still clenching around him, coaxing his hot cum to spill into her already-used up cunt. She coos at the feeling, her arms moving up to wrap around her husband, holding him close to her even as he plants his knees on either side of her hips so as not to crush her.
Once he manages to catch his breath, he gathers her in his arms and rolls onto his back with Byleth atop his sweaty chest.
Save for their breathing, they’re both silent.
Her ear is pressed against his chest and she smiles at the solid sound of his heartbeat, the fluttering present when she slides her hand up his arm to give a squeeze. His hand is running up and down her back soothingly, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin there.
“I was jealous.”
She snorts. That’s the closest he’d ever get to an apology.
“I know you were.”
“It was stupid of me.”
She hums, tilting her head up to plant a kiss onto the corner of his jawline as she’s not even interested in disagreeing with him because it is true. She isn’t going to agree with him either, because that would be a little harsh.
“It just boils my blood when I see other men get too friendly with you. I’ll do better.”
“Mhmm.”
“I’m sorry I called you a bitch.”
She snorts again at that, giving his chest a little pat.
“Good boy. I'm sorry that I slapped you. Multiple times.”
It's his turn to snort now. "I liked it."
"So are you going to apologize to Duke Aegir?"
"No."