Chapter Text
Two words describe the pair of tits he sees laying on the fence: Gargantuan; leaking. Farmer Byleth’s dear bovine centaur is overdue for a milking session. His pecs has swelled tremendously extending as far the bucentaur’s own reach with nipples so erect they would require all Byleth’s hand to grip each one. The silver chain of the nipple piercings it pulled taunt to its upmost limit and anymore Byleth belives it would snap. The way he leans his arms on the fence squishes those pecs and forms a massive valley of a cleavage. White leaks from the reddened nipples and drips down the volume and the sapphires that dangle from his piercings. With how engorged and full his chest is in such a fleeting time Byleth wonders if his bucentaur is pregnant again.
Dimitri doesn’t say a word but his eye expresses his desperation and need. To milk him until he’s sore and dry. Byleth pinches each nipple, feeling how they secrete milk, bringing one to his mouth and licks. A moan from the cow and he leans onto Byleth. A lick here and there, a tug on the piercing, then a bite into the supple muscle swollen from milk. He alternates between sucking the hypersensitive nipples and biting the pale skin around, painting the canvas with his mouth and toying with the metal. Lapping up the cream spewing from the pec like a man deprived of water, not allowing it to drip far any longer. The other pec he presses a thumb to the teat, idlingly massaging it while the honied and rich milk fills his mouth. Dimitri always tastes so delicious. The prefect amount of sweet with a frothy creamy texture. It mixes with the saltiness of his sweat and Byleth’s trousers are becoming damp from his own aching need. The milk flows abundantly; the most divine nectar. He switches his dedication and takes in his mouth the entire solid and swollen nipple from the other pec, sucking and fondling the pec with one hand while the other tugs on the pierced nipple wanting of his mouth.
Each thirsty siphon and roll of the enflamed nipple makes the bovine moan louder. His gentle sucks become stronger, hollowing his cheeks and tugging on the rosy nubs. Hands vigorously massage and grope, twisting and pulling on the other nipple. He doesn't allow his cow a soupçon of mercy with the intensity he pumps him. White streams between his fingers and from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. He continuously swallows, feeling his stomach becoming full of milk. Nimble ministrations become more passionate and the moans grow louder.
“Beloved, I-“ Dimitri gasps and arches his back. Byleth hears a loud snap of wood and the milk gushes like a geyser in his hand and down his throat. He chokes on the milk and feels his cow’s body shudder and twitch from the overwhelming pleasure that ripped through him. His limit is reached and he pulls off the nipple, coughing and hacking, nearly drowning from the milk. Before long he regains his composure and witnesses what’s become of his bovine. Flushed and panting, deep marks already forming on his skin with bright red tender nipples. The fence is broken; snapped like a twig under Dimitri’s strength. The grass beneath him is covered with his thick and abundant seed, and his monstrous cock leaking and eager for more. But Byleth won’t be giving his cock attention today nor will his holes receive any too. He will make his cow come repeatedly from his chest alone.
The blond looks down to him with a half-lidded eye, a lustful haze in the lone celestite. Byleth reaches up and grabs one of the long and heavy curled bull horns, pulling him to the farmer’s level. He kisses the bovinetaur, occupying his mouth with his tongue and pretending to allow him to taste his own sweet milk. Sadly, he cannot taste a thing, no matter how sweet or pungent. Dimitri leans into the kiss, pressing his leaking chest against Byleth; his kisses becoming hungrier by the minute and wanting to devour. Byleth pulls back, his cow whimpering at the lost of contact and attempting to chase after his lips. The teal-haired man maneuvers to step on a part of the broken fence and mounts his back, hefting himself up the cow whose back is as tall as Byleth’s shoulder, using Dimitri’s human-half as leverage. He seats himself right at the crook where the two kinds mix, grinding his hard and clothed cock against him. Arms wrap tightly around the blond’s torso, pressing himself firmly and flatting his chest against the bovine’s back. He must stretch himself, but he’s able to reach around Dimitri’s broad back and grope a heavy pec in each hand. He cups and squeezes it, finding his way to hook his fingers around the rigid nipples and small-hooped piercings. He can’t see anything that’s he’s doing, flat against the muscular wall of a back, nevertheless he doesn’t need to see when he feels the river of warmth running between his fingers. Byleth lightly bites the flesh of his back and recommences to milk his tits. Mild at first, kneading and rolling the hardened nipples with his dexterous digits, letting the milk jet forward, pressing into the pec itself. Starting at the edge of the areola, moving to the tips, and pulling as much as he can with his arm span, then coming back and massaging the immense muscle of the pec, pressing it as flat as he can. He changes the way his fingers squeeze and strokes the flesh with the motion, alternating between slow and gentle to harsh and scratching him with his nails. Dimitri moans like a harlot and the way his voice hitches and body shivers tells Byleth what reaches him exactly right. All this milk gushing and not down his throat feels like a waste, but he already drank likely four liters or so and he has a small stockpile in the cellar. He simply produces such a quantity Byleth cannot consume entirely, taking hours to drain him dry when overdue. Like his seed his milk is also nigh endless.
Dimitri lays his hands over Byleth’s wrists, softly holding onto them and allowing Byleth to guide him without change in his attention. A shaky and loose grasp, as though he wants to cling on with all his might but refrains from doing so; hesitate and almost afraid.
“What is it, babygirl?” Byleth asks into his sweat glistened skin.
“Harsher, please. More than enough to bruise until I’m dry,” Dimitri begs.
He complies. His touches are a force, jabbing and dragging and bending and twisting the nipple and pec like he is trying to sap out the milk like wringing a cloth. That’s the right amount if the moans are anything to tell. The milk cascades immeasurably, gushing down his front and clinging to Byleth’s skin and running down his elbows. He begins to rut against Dimitri’s back, finding the angle that feels the best for his aching cock. His thighs and arms have grown tired and numb from the position and reaching so far, but he won’t let up yet. Not anytime soon. He pushes harder against Dimitri, pursing his own desire as he milks the cow for all he has. A spur of the moment, Byleth releases his tits and with both hands pulls down on the nipple chain. It snaps and Dimitri comes; he feels it thunder through his body and milk explodes from his chest, falling to his knees, nearly toppling over to his side with Byleth still mounted. An orgasm from only his chest being milked that is so vibrant that it made his legs weak to stand? A modest man most days but at this moment he is vainglorious; a swelling sense of pride from how he brought his beloved bovine prince to such heights of pleasure. And he isn’t done yet.
Milking him through his orgasm, Byleth doesn’t let up his rutting. He glances over to see protruding out from underneath Dimitri is his weeping and begging colossal bull cock; throbbing and jolting wildly as he continues to cum on the grass. The mixture of Dimitri’s sweet milk, salty skin, and mild cum is a heady scent that he adores. Byleth feels the tipping point near, and plunges over. He comes in his trousers, soaking them and his underclothes. A mess he will regret tomorrow morning when he washes his clothes. But that is tomorrow and this is today. Or rather, it was today. He didn’t notice that sun is already setting.
Byleth, very hesitantly, takes one hand off a pec and frees himself of the cloth, smearing his seed across Dimitri’s back. Next ascension of pleasure he will stain his back with himself. He returns his come-soaked hand to Dimitri’s nipple, pressing it inward and pinching. He resumes finding the motions that make him sing the sweetest, rutting his sensitive cock and chasing after both of their raptures long into the night until the milk runs dry. The bucentaur falls asleep on his side and Byleth nestled with his face between the bruised and bitten and sore pecs as daybreak peers over the mountains. A shame he broke the piercing's chain. Byleth will buy him another the next time he goes into the city, should he be able to pull himself away from Dimitri's tits.