Chapter Text
"Isn't that a little old-fashioned?" Linhardt sighed, raising a dark brow. He brushed his long tresses away from his collarbone, revealing the delicate skin that lay beneath. "I mean, if the uniform is something the girls can wear, why shouldn't boys? Our bodies aren't so drastically different that it's not covering everything."
And he knew just how cute and tempting he looked like this because when he'd discovered it a month ago (thanks to Hilda needing a model to sell off her old clothes) he'd not been able to take his eyes off himself in the mirror. What a travesty that he should only now discover that the sweater with the bow, the knee-high socks, and the dangerously adorable skirt looked so good on him.
This was the eighth time he'd been called to Seteth's office in that past month. His parents had been called, but they didn't see the harm, and threatening expulsion had done nothing because Linhardt wasn't all that invested in school to begin with.
He crossed his knees slowly as he tucked his hair behind his ear, watching Seteth like a hawk behind those deceptively sleepy lashes. He knew the man would see a flash of his upper thigh. He'd noticed since the second time he'd been called down that Seteth had a certain... thing about the school uniform.
Seteth hated these talks with Linhardt, narrowing eyes at him on the other side of the antique desk. They happened at least once a week now. He had started leaving a block of time open afterwards for prayer. For patience. For strength.
For temperance.
"As we have discussed before," he said, forcing his pursed lips open for each word. "The rules are in place for a reason, Mr. Hevring. Regardless of whether they are 'old-fashioned,' one of the many values we teach at this school is discipline. Discipline involves following the rules."
Seteth knew by now that there was a calculated motive to every move Linhardt made. The crossing of his legs. The glimpse of his upper thigh. The priest's collar felt too warm against his skin.
"Rather than repeat the same argument, however, I have a more particular reason to call you in here today." His hands had been folded together on the surface of the desk, but now they parted, forming hard bars of muscle across the dark, polished surface. He leaned a bit forward, so he was still heard when his voice became a lower, almost hiss-like sound. "You hemmed your skirt shorter ."
Linhardt's eyes blew wide with pretend innocence. "I didn't! I don't really have the manual dexterity for such good sewing." He lifted the hem between his thumb and forefinger. " Bernadetta is the one who hemmed it. Not me. She even asked for it back tonight; she wanted to sew little silver flowers across the bottom..."
Seteth's expression would convince someone there was a lemon in his mouth. Linhardt was always one for playing innocent and dabbling in semantics, and the priest had little inclination to entertain him. "Well, you should return it to her then and have her add enough... embroidery to add some inches to the hem line."
He stood up and opened a drawer, digging inside it for a flexible tailor's measure. "Stand."
Linhardt sighed, rolling his eyes. He was sure that Seteth was just going to measure the skirt for the umpteenth time. He didn't know why; it wasn't like it changed in the past half a minute. But he stood because it would be more troublesome not to.
"Will I be allowed to return to class at all today?"
Seteth didn't answer the question. He walked around behind Linhardt and eyed him. The pale skin between the tops of his socks and the end of the skirt. He absently licked his lips.
"Bend over the desk."
Linhardt bent, wincing a bit. Not because he was worried about Seteth seeing anything, just because the desk was hard-edged, not comfortable to lie on. But he obeyed, hands on the surface first before he folded at the middle.
The school-issued girl's uniform skirt hitched up to his thighs immediately. Three inches higher than merely 'disrespectful'. In fact, if Linhardt lifted his hip just right without Seteth noticing, as he did now, the skirt rode up enough to show so much of his upper thigh, that Seteth got a generous eyeful of just a sliver of his ass.
Seteth swallowed. He stared. He unfurled the measuring tape. And under his breath, he began to murmur words Linhardt might hardly hear.
"In the presence of the Goddess and her Church, I am resolved..."
He bent and... got to his knees. One of his hands held an end of the tape measure to the back of Linhardt's knee.
"...as a sign of my interior dedication to Seiros, to remain celibate..."
Seteth's breath was so close that the hem of the skirt brushed his lips as they moved. His words prickled warmly at Linhardt's skin, just where his thighs met.
"...for the sake of the country of Fódlan, and in lifelong service to the Goddess and mankind."
Seteth stood up straight, rigid. A mere few inches behind the student. "I have made every effort to instill discipline in you, Mr. Hevring. I believe there is only one more tactic I can try... I must resort to corporal punishment." He licked his lips, and his voice was pitched lower. "Lift your skirt."
Linhardt would have resisted this order. Should have. Because he knew what Seteth was going to do and he wasn't really a fan of pain (at least that he was aware), and his parents would have something to say about it if he told them.
But he was fairly certain that Seteth, praying to himself as he measured his skirt, was interested in something more. Nearly every student at Garreg Mach lusted after their Dean at one time or another. He was a very handsome, very strict older man who kept himself neat and retained his handsomeness despite his age. Many had tried to do something about it too, but not one had ever succeeded.
Not. One .
Another student, their resident school slut, had come close. But Linhardt was determined to break Seteth, and he swore he was the one who came closest. His heart hammered and blood pounded. Maybe eighth time's a charm, he breathed to himself as he reached down and flipped his skirt fully up, showing Seteth that...
He wore nothing underneath.
"If you insist, sir."
Seteth's breath caught. Smooth, pale skin curved over beautifully soft-looking cheeks.
"Keep your knees together." His words came out so quiet that they were almost more like breath. He didn't want to see anything else, nothing else to tempt him more than he already was...
In truth, he'd been tempted many times. Just none of them had ever realized it. Seteth was very good at maintaining his priestly bearing. Some of them had been persistent, but not like this. Not in this way that made Linhardt impossible to dismiss. Always grating at his nerves in a way he knew got under his skin. And now this...
Seteth prepared for the punishment he was about to administer. That's what he told himself as his broad, calloused hand spread over the (confirmed) soft skin of Linhardt's buttocks. It lingered there for a minute, for far too long, before he brought it back and spanked the student firmly.
Linhardt hadn't actually expected Seteth to hit him. He had been expecting his ploy on him to work, and for a moment, he thought it had, what with Seteth's hand lingering on him. If he was going to hit him, he'd expect him to use the paddle.
No, Linhardt didn't like pain... right?
And yet the sting of the slap reverberated through his nerves, jostling them like a field of grass blown flat by the wind; he released a gasp after his breath had traveled almost fully through him from the man's flat palm to the flesh of his ass.
And he was beautiful as he arched his back, lips parted, clutching at the desk, struggling to keep his legs together as Seteth had commanded. (Was the priest still wearing his rings?)
"O-one..." he breathed, shaky and mixed with a desire that was surprising from Linhardt's point of view.
The impact resonated through Seteth's body in much the same way it did Linhardt's, only his rush was not of pain. It was power . The thrill of finally punishing this student that seemed to resist any form of discipline, and though he was loathe to think about it, the perverse pleasure of stinging that perfect flesh with his own hand.
He could tell by the way Linhardt's voice shook that he wasn't the only one enjoying this. His own erection was hidden by his loose robes, but this was driving him wild. He thanked the Goddess that he had the good sense to lock the door.
His hand came down on his student's ass again, and this time, his fingers curled just noticeably into the tantalizing curve of it.
Linhardt's gasp became a whimper this time, even though he'd been expecting it now. "Two!" he whined, his chin jutting forward to stretch out his neck as if balancing himself, his knees knocking a little against the desk. An attractive red flush began forming on him—not quite a handprint yet, but it would get there.
Seteth watched the way Linhardt arced into the blow with hunger in his eyes. Long dormant urges stirred in him each time he had to scold this stubborn student of his, and it was building something within him that he was almost afraid to unleash. He feared he may be losing the ability to hold it back, fears or not...
He delivered a third stinging spank to Linhardt's rear.
Linhardt was no virgin. No way. As soon as he began to feel sexual urges he sought out people to experiment with. At seventeen, he was still very much in the midst of that awakening, that exploration, that enlightenment.
But he was raging hard against Seteth's desk now, and it actually hurt, every smack driving his cock right onto the edge. He instinctively tried to steady himself before he was knocked fully onto the desk, spreading his legs to reach his toes down, having not even realized he'd been inching his belly forward on the desk.
Those pale, supple thighs parted and Linhardt's head thunked as he dropped it onto a bunch of important documents.
"... three ..."
Seteth swallowed. He could see everything Linhardt had to offer, from his hard cock leaking onto his paperwork to his wanton pink hole. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone so exposed, let alone someone he wanted.
And he wanted . With a part of his anatomy he had suppressed for so long, he wanted to dominate this boy, to demand his submission, and then claim him as his own.
When his hand came down next, his fingers dipped into the warm crevice between Linhardt's cheeks.
This time, Linhardt actually cried out. Each time, it stung more and more and he was a spoiled rich boy, unused to pain. He was surprised how much it was affecting him in a pleasurable way because it absolutely still hurt.
Seteth wasn't fast enough to cover Linhardt's mouth as, instead of 'four', he nearly-wailed "S-sir!"
A sound actually emerged from Seteth's own throat. Something short, between a groan and a growl. His fingers got more bold, more insistent, one of them pressing right against the puckered ring of muscle.
"Father Seteth?" he heard from the other side of the door. "Is everything alright?"
Hardly thinking, Seteth covered Linhardt's mouth with his other hand. Notably, his fingers didn't stop fondling the student.
"Everything is fine, Sister. I'm just... helping a student patch up a minor wound. He's being a bit... sensitive."
"I see..." The nun sounded a bit confused; after all, patching small wounds was not typically Seteth's job. He was a busy man with so many responsibilities to the Church, to the Archbishop, to the public, and of course to the students. So dedicated, to take on yet another responsibility… "Would you like for me to take them to the infirmary instead?"
It was a good thing that Seteth had covered Linhardt's mouth because as he played with him, toying with the muscle of his twitching hole, he was moaning softly into his hand. It certainly wasn't a help that it took away about half of his oxygen, nor that apparently the thrill of being caught was doing something to Linhardt (this he already knew; after Caspar started having his own urges, Linhardt had allowed him to fuck him hard in the closet once and Linhardt's parents came home a little early). If he had wanted Seteth before, he was desperate for him now.
Without thinking, just so hungry , he parted his soft lips and accepted two of Seteth's thick, warm fingers into his mouth, closing the cavern about them and sucking softly, eyes rolling back in his head; all this accompanying an instinctive roll of his hips back into Seteth's hand.
The surprise sensation of that warm, wet mouth on his fingers made Seteth gasp through his teeth. He instinctively pushed a finger against Linhardt's hole so firmly that it probably would've slipped in if it had been wet enough. A problem his body was already devising a solution for while he mind was still screaming for this to stop, that this had gone far past the line already.
"No, Sister, that won't be necessary." Normally-composed Father Seteth sounded more urgent than usual. "We're almost finished, so it wouldn't be worth the trouble."
As though to punish Linhardt's boldness, he pushed his fingers deeper into the boy's mouth, to the second knuckles.
"Understood, sir," the nun shrugged and went about her day, sparing it no more thought. She was much too busy.
Linhardt jerked forward as the dry touch of Seteth's fingers nearly breached him and he made a muffled noise of surprise around the intruding digits. Didn't protest though; he had what the internet research he'd done called an 'oral fixation'. His mouth had to be on something. Always.
But now that the Sister was gone, Linhardt squirmed just enough to turn his head, twist his back, trying to meet Seteth's eyes. The normally sleepy, apathetic blue color was smoldering, hazy with lust. He continued to suck, dipping his tongue between the man's fingers and spreading his thighs a little bit wider, though he really, really hoped the man would get some lubricant before he went any further.
Seteth's eyes narrowed, despite the racing of his heart at that look on Linhardt's face. He pulled his fingers out of the boy's mouth, but he replaced them with the ones of his other hand that he'd been fondling with. Then the wet ones prodded at the student's hole instead, circling it with intent this time.
"You truly are a harlot ," Seteth hissed, leaning closer. Just as one of his fingers breached Linhardt's body, the priest pressed close enough for his erection to be known against his student's thighs.
Linhardt lurched forward as he forced his finger in up to the knuckle and moaned again, saliva pooling around the corners of his mouth. He squirmed still, enjoying the feeling of this, of Seteth's thick cock pressed up against his ass.
Muffled, he panted, "If... if I'm a harlot, sir... what does that make you?"
Seteth shuddered and couldn't keep himself from rutting into the friction. He was spiraling, as though he couldn't stop himself once it started. It was all snowballing out of control, each new action more bold and hedonistic than the last.
His voice was deep and thick with lust when he answered. "A sinner."
Then he started unfastening his pants with one hand.
Linhardt liked that answer. He braced his elbows on the desk, still wishing it was something more comfortable. He found himself imagining though, imagining that this desk was in front of a classroom of students, watching him as Seteth fingered him, stretched him open, and scraped his teeth lightly over the man's fingers. He chased them with his tongue, showing how much of a harlot he really was, pressing back against his hand.
And when he heard Seteth unfastening his belt? He got really eager then.
Seteth's cock was hard and heavy on Linhardt's left cheek. The priest exhaled a relieved sound that almost carried an "oh" with it. He could feel his jaw widening, making room for sharper, thicker teeth. While his fingers resumed slowly spreading Linhardt's hole, the others tormented by his mouth, his eyes flicked around for something he hadn't thought about in years: lubricant.
"There's..." Oh, Goddess forgive him. "...Holy oil. Top drawer, small vial."
Linhardt couldn't help but smirk at that—he'd been trying for a few weeks to tempt the chaste priest into sin, but this was on a whole different level. He fumbled in the top drawer, reaching behind him blindly to the side, but when his fingers closed on the vial, he kept it, holding it hostage. Carefully, he pulled his mouth free of the man's fingers and, panting hard, he said, "I'm enjoying the whole... desk motif, Sinner," he smiled sweetly. "But let me turn over. I can only get so many splinters in my dick before it goes soft."
Seteth's eyes flashed a brilliant blue when Linhardt made to keep the vial from him. It wasn't danger though; more akin to hunger. If he didn't know already, the student may catch on by now that despite the stern, iron control he kept over those in his charge, the priest liked to be challenged.
Rather than allow Linhardt to turn over, Seteth grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over himself, still keeping him far enough off of the desk that he had to rely on the priest's grip to keep him from falling. Exactly where Seteth wanted him. When he spread Linhardt's knees to slot himself between them, to press in until their hips met, his own cock was rigid (and surprisingly just a little cooler than Lin's body temperature) against his student's hole.
He leaned down, hovered over the troublesome rebel that had been tormenting him for weeks. His jaw was already wider, teeth thicker and sharper now, and even in the low light, it might be noticeable that his pupils had become slits. "It's Father to you, harlot." And then, he kissed Linhardt rather forcefully.
Linhardt was expecting a grumbled acquiescence, perhaps even a prayer or two, or a motion of piety. Not this. Not. Fucking. This . Being seized and flipped, knocking the wind out of him, glaring down at him with a suddenly shocking visage... his eyes , his teeth ... Linhardt may appear to notice little in comparison to others but he really just didn't comment on it. He was actually quite observant.
And now he was here, shivering with desire and fear because something was very wrong; something was happening and he didn't understand. Had he been seeing things? It didn't seem likely. But how else could Seteth look so monstrous? Was he using an illusion of some sort?
And why was he cold?
He didn't have much time for conjecture as Seteth crushed their lips together, stealing, devouring his breath. Linhardt whimpered against his invading tongue, yielding to him, submissive, confused, a little frightened of what he'd just unleashed in the priest. He clutched the vial of holy water to his chest as if it were some sort of shield as he shuddered beneath Seteth, though he didn't lose any of his arousal either. Hm. Interesting.
Seteth's tongue was thinner, longer, and more agile than a human's ought to be. It was even smoother , its buds seemingly smaller and more sensitive. He plundered Linhardt's mouth like a thief scrambling for all the treasure he could collect, like he'd been hungry for this for months.
His hips rocked back and forth, rubbing the underside of his cock up and down against Linhardt's hole, then along his shaft. A rumbling sound from his chest reverberated into the kiss.
Linhardt was sure he had lost his sanity and it didn't seem he was on the path to finding it. This was too odd to be real, surely, feeling the priest have the tongue of a snake, his body cool and smooth like marble, his hunger more avid than Linhardt could have guessed. He didn't know what to do. If his whimpers and gasps holding a bit of fear had been red flags to Seteth, he showed no signs of stopping.
With great effort, Linhardt finally wrested his tongue free of his and tore his head to the side so that Seteth was forced to find his lips perched on the supple column of his neck instead. So unblemished and pale... Linhardt really did have such amazing skin...
"F- Father!" he cried out, clearly a warning note of fright in his voice, struggling weakly to press the much stronger man back by his shoulders.
Seteth's tongue split at the tip and fluttered over Linhardt's jugular, following the path of warm, racing blood. It was almost as though he didn't hear or sense the protests at all. His body was entering a different state of drive with only one intent. His mouth fastened on that enticing pulse, licking it almost affectionately for a moment... before his envenomed fangs sank into his student's pretty skin.
The Goddess would probably not forgive this travesty, this breach of conduct to protect the students. But feeling the warm body beneath him shiver violently and suddenly go still, compliant, yielding... it made the priest forget that sacred responsibility.
As for Linhardt, he wasn't sure what was happening. One moment, he was scared, his pulse racing from the confusing thing that was happening to Seteth and himself, the next moment he was bitten and all the pain and fear seemed to melt away. His muscles relaxed suddenly, his blocking arm dropped, his knees parted and a hazy film seemed to overtake his eyes. He lay there so prettily on the desk, the sweater and skirt of the girl's student uniform sticking to his skin with sweat.
The hand holding the holy oil dropped to the desk too, relinquishing his grip as the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny, listless smile.
When Seteth felt Linhardt weakening, he withdrew his fangs and tried to regain some of his control. Curse me. He frowned when he looked down at the student, becoming more complacent in his arms. The beast inside him stirred, throbbed in his cock, twitched in his fingers, ached in his jaw, but his heart tried to resist.
"Look at me," he commanded, wanting to see something left of the cocky thorn in his side. At least something that assured him Linhardt was still in there.
While he seemed to be as short of willpower as he was energy, Linhardt actually had an extremely indomitable strength when it came to doing the things he wanted to do. He was still in there, certainly; even this venom could not fully silence him. But he still made a very pretty picture like this, doped up and smiling, lips glistening and puffy from Seteth's treatment, the sweater's pretty bow disheveled at his neck lift a gift, his soft thighs still spread to show just where Seteth's fingers disappeared, rather dry with just his saliva.
And that damnably hemmed skirt hiked up around his hips.
"Is that a command...?" Linhardt drawled, turning his damp blue eyes on him, breathless as his throat tightened. "I think... I think I have the upper hand now, Father ."
Perhaps surprisingly, even to himself, Seteth's mouth relaxed enough to be considered a smile. It seemed that knowing Linhardt's spirit was still intact was all it took for his instincts to take over again. The way that the student looked beneath him, open and on display, would have probably driven him to depravity regardless.
"Is that so?" He grabbed the forgotten vial of holy oil and uncapped it with his thumb. He dipped his dry fingers into the substance, working it slowly so he could start fingering the boy open again. "And yet I seem to have you right where I want you." The next few drops were on his cock.
Linhardt squirmed, movement still weak from the venom, but made the prettiest, sweetest noise when Seteth worked his fingers back into him, like a kitten's mewling. Humans were so delicate. "Y-you may think that," he panted, closing his eyes and bringing one knee up higher to open himself up all the more. "But let's face it, Father. This is a gift I gave you ." After all, would Seteth be doing this if not for Linhardt's weekly temptations?
Seteth would be facing no such thing. Not today. But he couldn't keep the lustful appreciation from his expression as Linhardt spread himself open more, inviting the priest to take him; and Seteth was too far gone to resist temptation now. He pressed a third finger into his student's heat.
"A gift ," he huffed, though his tone betrayed his arousal as he watched his fingers spread Linhardt open. "As though you have not been deliberately building your way to this point. A gift is either asked for or offered, not teased ." He finally withdrew his fingers, knowing his venom was working when strings of viscous fluid followed them for several inches. Good . "Punishments, however," he pressed his tip to the harlot's entrance, "are delivered ." Finally, finally he began to breach the young man he'd suppressed his cravings for... and a growl tore through his throat.
Linhardt, had he not been dazed from the venom, would have realized that he was, for some reason, wetter than the holy oil allowed for. That Seteth's fingers slid more easily against his walls, lightly scratching to make him shiver, that he was in fact dripping to the carpet below, his ass inches over the desk so that Seteth could fuck him properly.
But he didn't notice, and he wouldn't, not now. Not for several hours.
His gasp transformed into a quiet, keening cry halfway through, and he threw back his head, clipping it against the desk's other edge, the swirl of his hair spread out over a disarray of now completely unusable papers like a dark halo. As Seteth began to push his dick further, slow and careful, Linhardt's slender chest heaved with exertion, and only when Seteth gave him a moment to breathe did Linhardt finally tell him.
"The gift... it was there from day one, Father. I never teased, you just refused it." His voice was shaky as he let his cheek turn heavily to the other side, resting his head. "And it's not a punishment... if you want it."
Seteth had never allowed himself to really look. He'd known, weeks ago, that if he did... he would be ensnared. Now, he was too far gone to save himself. So he may as well admire Linhardt for the beauty he was. The flush of his face, his perfectly porcelain skin, the splayed dark silk around his head and across his shoulders, the enchanting blue of his mischievous eyes... and of course this damn uniform .
"Why have you been so persistent?" He asked it even as he pushed in deeper, as if trying to distract himself from the overwhelming pleasure of that glorious wet heat around his cock. It had been so long, so long …
Instead of answering, Linhardt hissed at the pressure and groaned, lifting his back from the desk in a circular arc, the sweater and blouse inching up to reveal yet more skin, his upper chest and arms really the only hidden parts of him now. His stomach was just as smooth and unscarred as the rest of him. He clutched the desk, making a visible, auditory attempt to regulate his panting but it hardly worked. Instead he just moaned hazily, "B-big..."
If only Linhardt knew how big Seteth truly was.
Seteth watched the creeping up of Linhardt's loose sweater, the pale plane of perfect skin that grew between the skirt waistband and the sweater hem. If he had completely lost control, he might have snapped his hips forward to plunge himself inside entirely, but harlot was already overwhelmed with how much he'd taken.
"Have you done this before?" Seteth asked, almost too softly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Which one would be worse, after all? With just a couple more inches, eased inside at a painstaking pace, he rested fully inside Linhardt's body—at lleast, as much as he had to offer in this partially human state. He was trying to control his breathing, to keep himself from being completely overwhelmed by the sensations and the urge to mate .
All the magic in the world couldn't make Seteth warm-blooded; but Linhardt was too doped up to care right now other than it felt strange to have something cold inside him. And of course he'd done this before, did Seteth think him stupid enough to try seducing him without any experience?
He shivered involuntarily, trying to catch his breath from panting. If Seteth were in his true form, 'his harlot' would be breathing frost.
"Yeah. Just... big." He waved lazily at Seteth with a floppy hand to indicate that he was fine, just needed a moment to adjust. But he shivered again, and every twitch and squirm of Linhardt's reminded Seteth oh so acutely that he was speared on his dick, that Linhardt's movements would move him. He was surrounded by the heat of a human being once more.
Humans always felt so different from other dragons in a way that Seteth found thrilling. Dragons were mostly cold, drier, tougher inside. Their warmth came from the fire at their core, so one could only feel it deep inside the well of their chests. Humans — Linhardt was warm and wet from the very first touch, surrounding him with a pleasure that was almost overwhelming. Not that he wanted it to stop.
But he had to be still. He knew that his size was a lot to adjust to for any human, and Linhardt was... slim... young… small. He felt the shiver through the young man's body and couldn't catch himself before he moaned. But he could tell the boy was cold. Instinctively, Seteth leaned down, until they were pressed together chest to chest. He looked closer at Linhardt's lovely face, took his student's chin between his fingers, and kissed him.
It was in leaning forward that Seteth realized what Linhardt's adorable sweater hid; yes, Linhardt was young and slim, tall, but small in every other way that mattered (especially his damned waist, so perfectly tapered).
Seteth could feel himself, feel the bulge of himself buried in his student, his harlot, through his stomach. He was that big in comparison.
Linhardt opened his mouth instinctively, eyes a little wide with surprise as he accepted Seteth's cool tongue and met it with his own more cautiously. It was overwhelming to be kissed by the Priest; his tongue felt longer, thicker... more prehensile than anyone else he'd ever kissed. But it was that strangeness that made it so unbelievably good that he was choking out a steady stream of moans now, feeling a bit of warmth from the man's neck and chest near his.
Fangs . He absolutely had fangs.
Oh. Oh, that's... Whatever word he couldn't find for how intensely that new understanding affected Linhardt, his mind did not grasp it before thoughts slipped away entirely. Linhardt's body was adjusting to his intrusion, both his core and his mouth. The reptilian nature beneath the priest's long-held disguise was unfurling under his skin, reaching to claim a new mate.
His hands were turning into claws even as they pushed at the human's clothes, finally banished the sweater and the shirt beneath it. Craving the contact of human skin against his own chest as said torso began to harden with long, smooth scales. His own clothes were stretched and then torn as his frame grew, changed. Even his cock within Linhardt's precious heat morphed, lengthened, thickened.
Linhardt did not mind his clothes being removed (although he had to quickly loosen the bow at his neck before Seteth tore it or strangled him) and was a little smug about the skirt being left on since it had been what tempted Seteth in the first place. They returned to kissing more feverishly, and he explored with more naked curiosity, seeking the points of sharp teeth, the slight fork in Seteth's tongue.
Only, as Seteth began to grow, so did Linhardt in a sense. At first, he thought the added pressure was because Seteth had moved; he'd heard the ripping of cloth (odd) and assumed Seteth was undressing more messily, given his face obscured his vision entirely. But that pressure became pain and he gasped without breath as he realized—
The priest was growing somehow.
He suddenly thrashed beneath him; he would have been scared had the venom not sedated him, but instead he was just worried that if Seteth wrecked him so quickly, they'd have to stop, and he didn't want to stop. He tried to speak, but Seteth went on devouring him, hardly refusing him breath, and finally Linhardt's eyes rolled back in his head, delirious from the growing pressure of his stomach.
He'd never come so hard, and Seteth hadn't even moved yet. He could feel Linhardt spasming and twitching beneath him, around him, his little body tightening as Seteth distantly felt a warmth spattered across his stomach.
Seteth grinned. It was rare for him to smile at anyone but his daughter, but he did now. He felt a satisfaction that had been lost on him for a long time, knowing that he could bring a mate he had chosen such overwhelming pleasure this way, by taking his truer form.
He waited for Linhardt's body to adjust to the size, growing within him until it stretched him to his limit. The sensation of his harlot coming to his orgasm around his massive cock was one Seteth had to enjoy whilst remaining still. The growl from his throat had an inhuman clicking to it now.
Once the student's body had relaxed entirely in post-orgasmic bliss, Seteth finally began to move. He held Linhardt's hips and moved only an inch at a time, watching the bulge in his abdomen with slitted, hungry eyes.
Linhardt trembled and shook after his orgasm, feeling like he was so spitted on the priest's purely unnatural cock that even the slightest movement might hurt. He had barely begun understanding what was happening to Seteth. The venom, so it seemed, was exiting his system much more quickly than it should. That or he was just excellent at keeping his wits about him.
Seteth was something inhuman. Something potentially dangerous. He was not afraid anymore. He was fascinated . He could feel more than size, he could feel a distinct curvature, thick ridges pulling at his fraying nerves with each shallow thrust.
"F-Father," he gasped, breathless as the man began actually moving with that massive piece of his. It hurt, but it did feel amazing too, and he was too transfixed by the scales around Seteth's face and neck, the horns that had begun to emerge from above his temples, curling over his pointed ears and tipped towards the back of his head. Linhardt winced, stupefied again more by the sudden size of the man than the sedating venom. He reached up with a shaking hand and touched the man's face, tracing the scales around his cheekbone. "What exactly... are you?"
Seteth watched for signs of pain. It was inevitable, given his size and shape, but the part of him that was driven to claim his mate was also driven to take care of him. One set of his fingers were light on Linhardt's stomach, following the bulge that slowly receded from it and then grew again when he pushed in.
"I am Nabatean," he answered with a breath that almost held the rattle of a hiss. There was no point trying to keep it a secret now.
I don't want to anymore. The deep voice in his mind was his own, but deeper and from a time of his life long past. He is mine, and in time, I will be his.
Nabatean. Linhardt had seen that word before, only once in an old book, or rather an old journal. But he couldn't recall the contents right now. Not when Seteth's movements were so rough yet his face was curiously sentimental. "N-Nabatean…"
He cried out because at this point, Seteth was so large, there was no avoiding the milking of Linhardt's prostate—something no other young man their age would be able to reach (or even know was there). Since all biology and anatomy texts were banned, Linhardt himself didn't know about it. All he knew was that this was the best damned fucking he'd ever had in his life.
Seteth's trained instinct had him glancing at the door when Linhardt cried out, but more powerful instincts enjoyed every sound he dragged out of his new lover too much to stifle them. The endearment that had been seeping into his heart over the weeks for the spirited little genius beneath him was too difficult to resist now.
Linhardt reached up with his other hand now, no longer bracing himself on the desk (which made their bucking all the more wild and rough) and one hand touched Seteth's horn curiously while the other slipped warmly around his back. Seteth had brought their bodies together, leaned over to keep Linhardt warm, and so he could get his arm around ably to feel the knobbly spikes that appeared to grow from the priest's spine.
Resistance would be especially impossible for Seteth with the young man reaching for the emerging parts of his body that would terrify most. He tipped his head a bit into Linhardt's hand on his horn, watching his eyes. The hand moving down his back felt so warm , so dexterous. He ran his own fingers through Linhardt's hair, satisfying a curiosity that he'd ignored so long, so dark and soft.
Linhardt clung to Seteth as the pain quickly washed away from him, and he was reduced to a whining, whimpering mess, bringing up one slender thigh to wrap his leg around Seteth's hip and hitch there, long lashes fluttering with every movement. The Nabatean’s thrusts began to drag more easily, faster, drew pleasure out of his new mate longer, better , and a smirk that was almost smug pulled at Seteth's lips.
Linhardt didn't really know what tempted him to tease Seteth more, but the desire was there. "Father," he said more clearly now, this time in Seteth's curiously pointed ear, whispering hotly. "Holy Father, will you show me the Goddess's light?"
After all, Seteth clearly had a thing for this sacrilege.
The smugness didn't last long at all with the things Linhardt leaned up to whisper in his ear. A shudder of sheer arousal racked Seteth down to his core, and without even thinking, he jolted his hips forward. A groan limped from his chest, and he began to shove in earnest, rewarding and punishing the harlot for his erotic heresy.
"I shall," he huffed. "I will bless you from within until you would swear yourself to serve, if only for more of my blessing."
Linhardt didn't bother much with either the Goddess or with heresy. They weren't scientifically interesting and were both of them impossible to prove. But in the interest of healing his classmates in battle (and he was rather good at it to begin with), he knew a lot of the scripture. It had to be learned and committed to memory for Faith to become manifest into magic.
But when Seteth said such things... Oh, he couldn't bear not to coax more out of him. He knew the man (lizard? demon?) was devout, that he would bring the Goddess even into his sin—the sin of fucking a student. A minor. On his desk no less, in the school uniform, completely without shame. At least for now.
He could hardly form many words now, trying to stifle the urge to wail but biting his lip with near savagery. It was a good thing he was so overwhelmed that he didn't realize his lip was bleeding—he couldn't stand blood. That would have to be dealt with later. He didn't let go of the great horned beast as he rutted against him, opening Linhardt up far more than he had believed possible, dragging pleasure from the core of him when he thought he had already felt too much to feel anything else.
"Serve... I-I swear... Father, Father I want your blessing!" he moaned deeply, forcing quiet as his head rolled back on his shoulders, his dark hair spilling through Seteth's claws.
He was fairly certain he came again. Surely that would be all Seteth could wring from him.
In his prime, Seteth might have lasted longer. But it had been so long . So long since he had felt close to someone, since he'd been so deeply intimate, since he'd bared his true self and buried it inside the hot, pulsating body of a gorgeous mortal.
Those precious words of devotion, moaned only for him, articulated in the act of such lewd transgression, that was what pushed him over the edge. He gritted his teeth to try to muffle the sound that was emitted from his whole upper body as he came, flooding Linhardt's insides with warm, thick, and undoubtedly inhuman seed.
Linhardt's mouth opened in a silent wail. His nails dug deeply into Seteth's back and his entire body tensed tighter than a newly coiled spring. It was a good thing that Seteth was not rutting—he would have filled Linhardt's tiny body with eggs and much, much more seed. He likely wouldn't be able to handle it.
Linhardt was holding on to Seteth so tightly now that if the priest attempted to straighten up, Linhardt would have come with him. The bulge of his normally flat stomach was almost ridiculous, and there would likely have to be some intense aftercare especially for a male human. Seteth's wife, well... a woman could take so much more.
Linhardt hid his face in Seteth's neck and hardly breathed. He felt so... so strange , as if he had been doused inside with a toxin that numbed him, kept him sated and docile. But he didn't much care.
Seteth shuddered through most of his orgasm in unthinking ecstasy. There was a pleased rumbling in his chest, almost like a clicking purr, warm and comforting. His fingers pet through Linhardt's hair all along, until he realized how his student's body was filling a bit too much.
"Ah…" He gasped as he tipped his hips back, wincing and carefully pulling out before he was finished filling his new mate. His strangely thick and ridged cock sprang free of Linhardt's body just as another load of seed gushed forth, spilling over the young man's front. The sight of Linhardt covered in the evidence of their sin actually brought forth yet another load.
Linhardt gasped softly and flinched away, surprised as he was covered. Seteth was obviously not an ordinary man, and therefore, none of him was ordinary. His spend was enough that it smeared over Linhardt's bunched-up skirt, his naked belly, his thighs, his chest, and over his cheek, dripping hot down his chin. Slowly, he lifted his hand to wipe some of it off of his face and stared at it. After a pause, he brought his thumb to his lips, plump and swollen, and made a face. "...salty."
Seteth's heart pounded while he watched it happen. His mouth was dry, even after he swallowed to moisten it. His eyes slowly moved down to see that his own spend was mixed with Linhardt's, distinct with different textures and slightly different colors. He hesitated, but touched some of Linhardt's with his fingers and licked at them with his forked tongue.
"...It has tang." He stared down at Linhardt, like he was waiting. Waiting for something to change. For some indicator of what would happen next. He pet his fingers slowly down Linhardt's stomach, remembering how beautiful he had been with the shape of him.
Linhardt shivered, watching that forked tongue, remembering it in his mouth, invading him, and was suddenly wondering what that tongue would feel like on his body, in other places...
He closed his eyes, lashes kissing his soft cheeks at the touch, the evident soreness of his insides becoming somehow more and more real now that he was slowly coming to his senses. They had really fucked, right here on his desk. What happened now...? He hadn't really considered he might actually be successful.
And, as per usual, he was overlooking the biggest mystery.
What the hell was Father Seteth?
"...you just going to stand there staring?" Linhardt couldn't help his tired snark coming through, but he had to admit, having Seteth's burning gaze on him was precisely what he had wanted from the start. "This desk isn't exactly comfortable, you know."
Seteth raised an unimpressed eyebrow, almost on instinct. But there was a certain part of him that was soothed, relieved that Linhardt still sounded exactly like himself, after so much had changed between them in such a short amount of time. He could even admit to himself by now that he felt some fondness in his chest for that bratty behavior. For him.
The priest was rarely anything less than decisive. It was strange, for those few moments, hovering in the state of what now . But there was really only one option, wasn't there? Seteth shifted his position so that he could lift Linhardt in a bridal hold close to his chest. So close, Linhardt might see that the lines around his mouth were softer. Almost a smile.
Linhardt gasped as soon as he was picked up and moved. His whole body hummed with a persistent ache and he could unfortunately feel all of it now that he wasn't being so pleasantly fucked. He clung to Seteth, sighing with relief when at least laid on something softer. His back was crossed with the red imprints of papers and quills.
Seteth carried him to a door that very few people ever saw the other side of, past which was Seteth's private bedroom. There was a small wash chamber attached to it as well, through a small archway. His room wasn't large, but it was very well lit; sunlight poured over the bed from windows that were nearly as tall as the whole wall behind it. Seteth laid Linhardt on the firm mattress and one of his hands lingered over Linhardt's chest.
"Did you plan this far ahead?"
"Of course not," Linhardt murmured, panting a little bit again. "I don't plan things. Did you?"
Seteth huffed a soft sound through his nose. He wasn't surprised. "I didn't plan for you at all," he answered, but despite the emphasis, there was a softness in his eyes that belied his fondness. "Wait here."
He arranged himself for the moment so he could leave the room. In his office alone, he focused for several minutes to restore his human disguise... Then he left a notice on his door that he was not in the office. He returned, locking his bedroom door behind him as well. His eyes raked over Linhardt, still looking completely delectable sprawled on his bed. Maybe even more so. But he went to the wash chamber and began to run a warm bath, and only then did he returne to the bedchamber and begin to remove his clothes.
Underneath them was a physique few would expect from the priest's shapeless dressings. Shapely muscles formed over him with good, productive use. A moderate spread of green hair across his chest, in a thinning line down his carved abdomen. And everywhere , scars.
Linhardt very nearly fell asleep while Seteth was away doing... something. He was trying to recall where he'd buried the book that held the secret word 'Nabatean' but he was just so exhausted now.
When the man returned and began to strip, Linhardt was actually surprised to see him looking normal, having grown used to the horns and scales.
He watched him with sleepy eyes, admiring his muscle from afar. He hadn't thought he would be interested in that but here they were. And so many scars, too many for a priest surely...?
When Seteth sat down on the edge of the bed next to Linhardt, he finally reached for the skirt to pull it down, slowly. He resisted the impulse at first, but after some hesitation, he leaned down. His hair fell enough to brush Linhardt's hips and stomach as he brushed his nose and lips against the bulge that still remained in the boy's navel.
Another little whine, soft and tired, issued from him at the tickle of Seteth's hair and beard. His body was still holding a nearly obscene amount of Seteth's unnatural releases, and even the light pressure on his stomach made him dizzy.
"Y-you liked being called 'Father', hm?"
Seteth shivered just hearing the word again from Linhardt's lips. He pressed a soft kiss there and then straightened again.
"You made quite an effort to get where you are now. It would be a disservice to us both if I were to hold back now."
He slowly pulled off the rest of Linhardt's uniform, the knee-high socks and dark shoes all that remained now. Then he slowly picked Linhardt up again, like he weighed as much as a cat, and carried him to the warm bath. He had already added healing salts and herbs to the water, and it smelled almost like eucalyptus.
"You can take your nap once you're clean. You will be very sore without a hot soak." Instead of leaving the room though, he knelt behind Linhardt's head and began undoing the ribbon in his hair.
Linhardt was genuinely surprised that the man wasn't pacing in holy penitence. And no one had washed his hair since he was young enough to need it; he'd forgotten how good it could feel. He winced the moment his skin hit the water, feeling the salts though the sting quickly calmed.
He was quiet for a while. He'd need to clean himself out... in a minute, though. Too tired.
Seteth took his time. He used a cup and a sponge to wet Linhardt's hair without dunking him. His fingers massaged soap into the boy's scalp. If he was honest, he enjoyed this part. The nurturing after mating. It had been so long since he had indulged in something like this, and just how much he was enjoying it felt sinful itself...
"What is a Nabataen, Father?" Linhardt asked innocently, now knowing he could ply the man with that word. Wondered if he was the real kind of daddy type who would comb his hair and tie his shoes for him. Oh, Linhardt might enjoy that... "I think at this point, you owe me, letting yourself fall into temptation and whatnot." Not that it hadn't been Linhardt's idea.
Seteth might have resisted answering despite the epithet, if not for the follow-up. He tensed a bit and began rinsing Linhardt's hair.
How could I have done this? Temptation or not, I am the adult, and it was my responsibility to resist. Can even the Goddess forgive me?
He did owe Linhardt an explanation for what the boy had seen.
"An ancient race of sentient reptilians. Powerful, immortal creatures of magic. It would not be entirely remiss to compare them to dragons."
Linhardt listened in quiet awe. He wouldn't believe it if he hadn't just witnessed it, would even go so far as to think Seteth was making a bad joke. But he'd felt the horns, the venom, the scales...
Yet he just said with a little breath, "That explains your cold skin." He had so many questions, so many things to explore and study and scrutinize and he didn't know which had to come first. He was so tired. "Well, I have to admit, when I came in here to seduce you, I wasn't expecting that." His voice was flat and emotionless as usual, as if Seteth had commented on the weather.
Seteth used his fingers on either side of Linhardt's jaw to tip his head back, washing through his hair line. "No, I imagine you weren't," he murmured. His voice was slow, low... remorseful. He sighed through his nose and carefully wrung out Lin's long hair before he let them rest.
He moved to the side of the tub then, soaping the sponge to start washing more of him. Now knowing that this was something he could only experience once... Goddess forgive him, he wanted to make it last.
"I should not have allowed you to seduce me, Linhardt," he murmured quietly. His eyes were on his hands as he spoke. "I... cannot apologize enough to you."
Linhardt hummed thoughtfully, his head tilted back on the bath, his eyes closed. "No, I suppose you shouldn't have. Not as an educator, nor a priest. But there's no need to apologize; I am far from upset. It was my goal, after all, so for me this was a success. And next time, I will know better what you like and what I need."
He said it so casually. Seteth's hands froze. Next time . As if there would be a next time. The priest frowned at his student. His student. He should not have taken on this aftercare himself. He should have taken Linhardt back to his own quarters, to care for himself. He shouldn't be encouraging Linhardt to think that this would go on.
"There will not be a next time." His tone wasn't cruel, but it was firm.
Linhardt didn't open his eyes or change his calm expression; it was as though Seteth hadn't actually said anything, except he answered, "Oh, yes there will be. That was amazing . I'm probably very fucked up now and I hurt in places I didn't know existed, but I'm also a healer, I can take care of myself. Besides, pretty obvious you need it too."
Seteth couldn't help the way that the praise made him feel... good . He had thought that he'd left Linhardt with more pain than the ecstasy might have made worth while, but apparently not. The priest sighed and held himself back from saying ' I will take care of you'. Instead it was, "I will make sure you are taken care of tonight. And then I will recommit to my vows." He started washing again, slowly.
Linhardt sighed, long and deep as he turned to fix the priest in his calculating gaze. "What in the world for? You can still be committed to the Goddess and have amazing sex. And I really don't want to put any effort into blackmailing you, so please don't make me do it."
Seteth's got his own face wet when he pinched the bridge of his nose at first. He had no doubt that it would be quite difficult to make Linhardt understand the why in his commitment. Why he couldn't give in to temptation, not from anyone.
But then that word. Blackmail . Linhardt didn't seem the type, but could he really risk it? His eyes were sharp on Linhardt, and his frown was hard.
"Oh, come on, there's no need to make that face," Linhardt complained. "Look, I won't tell and I'll make it worth your while. I'd ask if the reason you didn't want to was because I was unsatisfactory, but I think we both know that isn't it. You never could keep your eyes off me."
Seeth’s sigh was short and tight. "I am a priest, a teacher, and an adult . You are a minor , and my student ." But it wasn't as though Linhardt didn't know any of that, and pointing out the obvious would do nothing to dissuade him. "Why are you willing to go to such lengths for this? Why did you push so hard to begin with? What are you after, Linhardt?"
Linhardt rolled his eyes. He'd expected to hear all of that. He expected pleading even, but he'd hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Isn't it obvious? You're hot and you're a challenge. Those were the only two reasons at first. Now I have..." He considered. "Five, I think. Hot, challenge, dragon, there's the whole blasphemy thing by way of corrupting a devoted priest, and..." He trailed off with a little smile.
Hot . Seteth was aware that his appearance appealed to certain people. Fine. Challenge . It was not surprising that Linhardt found that appealing. Dragon . Well, of course that would give the curious student another reason to dive deeper. Blasphemy . Hm.
He raised an eyebrow. Linhardt was really going to make him prompt for the next one. "And?"
Linhardt shook his head. "Mm, I'm still working on that one. I'll let you know if it proves true with time."
Self-discipline kept Seteth from rolling his eyes at the way he teased the information.
Linhardt pulled away from Seteth slowly, not wanting to splash the water everywhere as he sat up, getting to his knees. He was exhausted, but maybe just a tad more temptation to seal the deal...
"Sorry," he muttered, turning to look over his shoulder. "But there's so much..."
Without warning, he braced himself on the side of the wooden tub and reached between his thighs. Now being fully wet, there was an obscenely inappropriate noise as he pressed his fingers back inside of himself. He was so fucking sensitive right now that he didn't even have to fake a little moan as he tried to coax the impossible amount of fluid free from his body.
Seteth had pulled his hands back to make room for the student as he sat up, and now... his mouth went dry again. The red marks were faded from Linhardt's skin mostly, leaving his back a blemish-free, pale, slender expanse from his curtain of long hair to his narrow waist. His eyes followed the boy's hand, and the sound made his insides stir again.
The priest forced his eyes back up to Linhardt's face. Harlot . And yet there was still the dragon inside of him that felt satisfied with his claim. "You are enjoying this." It was an accusation, but not one with any bite to it.
Linhardt answered breathlessly, eyes hooded with a sleepy desire, "Of c-course I am... but I'm too tired to simply do something for entertainment purposes. I need to... to be empty..."
He bit his lip as he dug deeper, wincing a little as he added a third finger. A thick, pearly liquid began to seep down his thighs and mix with the water. He was making soft little noises again, gasps and moans and whimpers as he carefully fucked up into himself to rid his body of anything foreign. Seteth swallowed.
Goddess, help me.
Seemingly, once Seteth's restraint was broken, it was very difficult to restore, at least with regards to this particular temptation. There was a distinct possibility that Linhardt did not even know just how irresistible he was to Seteth in particular, with his sarcastic wit, his challenging nature, his soft beauty, his sheer audacity …
Seteth sat forward and pulled Linhardt's hand away from his hole with firm fingers. Then he replaced them with his own. He fondled inside Linhardt's loosened, sensitive hole and intently watched his expression while it made him moan and sigh and whimper. Then he kissed him again so he could taste those noises too.
Linhardt did not protest or seem surprised by any of it, not until Seteth was kissing him. Was it just Linhardt or was there something longing in this kiss and not just lustful? Perhaps that fifth thing was correct after all.
He leaned against the man's chest instead of the tub, feeling the fine hair beneath his palms, not to mention the years of hard-built muscle. While it was not enough to get either of them hard again, he even rocked his hips against the man's thick, calloused fingers, moaning right past Seteth's lips.
This whole act was a scintillating combination of lewd and nurturing, almost romantic even. If Seteth could be honest with himself about it, he might be nervous about getting addicted to this. There was something so alluring about how Linhardt could be soft and sexy all at once.
The priest kissed as slowly as his fingers moved, deep and sensual both with Linhardt's mouth and his body. He slowly forgot to think about how this was meant to merely be cleaning his student. When he could stop thinking entirely, all the reasons why this shouldn't be happening stopped mattering.
Linhardt found himself wondering when the last time Seteth had done this was. He couldn't be a virgin, not with being some centuries-old dragon, he couldn't believe that. But he wasn't thinking too hard about it, because the slow and tender way Seteth moved both hand and lips against him felt like a sin so sweet, it ate at the corners of his mind.
He leaned against him until he could bear it no more and slumped against the man's chest, needing him for support. A wave of intense fatigue suddenly struck him, more powerful than any he'd ever had. Their vigorous activity had caught up with him and he couldn't even hold himself up anymore. But he was clean at least, and pulled his lips away, panting for breath.
"Y-you are very good at this, Father Seteth."
Seteth's own mind was hazy and slow to return to itself, slow enough that he smiled with Linhardt slumping against him. He instinctively wrapped an arm around his shoulders, supporting him so he didn't slide down into the tub. Being complimented by Linhardt, after all the exchanges between them, made the priest feel... Well, feel a way that was unexpected, at least. He wasn't used to compliments that didn't have anything to do with how he carried out his duties. He slowly extracted his fingers and naturally stroked his palms up Lin's cheeks, to rest on his lower back.
He hummed agreeably. "You have done well to endure as much as you have today." He placed his hands on the backs of Linhardt's upper thighs, and even though they were wet, the Nabatean could get a grip to lift him with.
Slowly, and with careful balance, he retrieved a couple towels and carried Lin to the bed chamber. He positioned himself behind Linhardt on the bed and gently toweled his hair. He longed to brush it.
I should not be indulging in this vice. I owe the Goddess years of penance already.
As Seteth carried and dried him off, Linhardt surrendered to the weight of his limbs. Seteth was strong and could bear his weight (and slight it was indeed). He dozed even in the half-minute it took to be carried to the bed, soft cheek against the man's shoulder.
Seteth combed through Linhardt's hair with his fingers and then let him down onto the bed. He was still naked himself, and looking at Linhardt's soft, relaxed face on his pillows... it was difficult to think of him as a minor, a student, certainly not a harlot. Here, he looked like... like a lover, in the most domestic sense, which happened to be the way that sank the deepest into Seteth's heart.
All the while that the man combed his hair, Linhardt swayed in silence until he was allowed to yield to the softness of Seteth's own bed.
"Rest here," he said, and his voice was quiet. A strand of Linhardt's hair fell across his eyes, and the priest couldn't help himself. He reached up with gentle fingers and brushed it behind his ear.
He looked petite and feylike curled up there; vulnerable, fragile, docile. Seteth had almost forgotten what it was like to view humanity this way; it had been so long since he'd allowed some of his true form to shine through and the sheer gap in power between himself and a man made him feel the need to be yet more gentle.
As he brushed Linhardt's hair away, the pale, moonlike face turned towards him sweetly, eyes still closed, cheek brushing his hand.
Seteth's heart thudded in his chest. He had chosen this room years ago for the beauty of the sky in the windows. He had never considered how the sun may cast its beauty into his room as well, painting a certain muse in his bed with soft light and delicate shadows. He hardly breathed.
It had been a long time since he had felt something like this. Not just lust, possessiveness, not even the nurturing. Not even just the spark of true interest he felt in his chest. There was also the rush of creative inspiration. He was flushed with feelings and thoughts and impulses and even hopes that culminated into a story in his mind. It had been so many years since he had written something new.
As Linhardt slept, Seteth smiled at him. Thank you, he thought in the young man's direction.
And then he made himself leave. He had so much praying to do, after all. Penance to offer. Questions to ask. Even thanks to offer Her as well.