Dedue finds her in one of the now run down hallways of the monastery. His face looks angry and Byleth can already guess the reason.
She's happy he's back. Dedue always knew better how to treat Dimitri. Now that all her efforts have only been met with silence and rejection, she had started to wonder whether she could actually do something for that stubborn blond student of hers.
She won't leave his side. She won't leave him alone. But he needs more than that. So much more. Dedue will surely be able to bring Dimitri back.
"Professor," he calls. Byleth wonders if he has come to see her in order to greet her properly. They shared some words back at the Battle of Gronder, but they are closer than mere chit chat after years without seeing the other.
But his look tells her otherwise. One she knows by heart. One he had shared with her many times before… before everything happened.
"I am sure he is waiting for you to tend to him, Dedue."
The man nods, but offers his hand to hers, bandages and antiseptic cream that only confirm her suspicions.
"Dedue," she tries, but the man refuses to put his hands down and after a minute of silence Byleth gives up. "Fine, but he won't like it."
He looks at her for a second extra, "Thank you, professor." A second later, "He's waiting in professor Manuela's room."
The infirmary. Manuela's name seems sacrilegious to be shared out in the open, but Dedue's eyes don't change and his attitude remains and Byleth knows he has also learned to separate time's past with… whatever is happening now. She thins her lips, and can only imagine the frown and snarls Dimitri will give her when she finds him. But she has also never been good at rejecting her students' requests and Dedue is her flower buddy, Dimitri's aide, a friend to both that surely knows that unruly man best -or at least the man Dimitri was before life got in the way-, so Byleth watches him go and then makes her way to Dimitri.
The walk is filled with worries Byleth has to battle to keep out of her mind. She has an excuse now -a reason- to be more annoying than before, to push harder to stay. She stops outside a second, lets her eyes wash over Dimitri's form before entering. He's on his side, with his back to the entrance. He turns his head the moment Byleth's foot crosses the arch.
"Where's Dedue?" he asks, his voice raspy and angry and contained, like all the times he had growled at her to leave him alone before. It does not scare her, it pains her, like always.
But this time she doesn't say anything. She doesn't answer, she doesn't goad him into a conversation with small talk, she doesn't keep her distance. She walks purposefully to the desk in the room, places the bandages and cream with slow movements she uses to breathe in inconspicuously, and then brings herself to Dimitri -who's following her movements like a cornered animal.
"Where's Dedue?" he repeats, with an even lower voice this time, almost menacing.
Who would have thought that having him act like that for so long before would make her able to withstand it better. She has always waited for a second, a chance, one measly moment in which his facade would fade -would fall-, an instant in which she would see the student she had so fervently loved.
The man she has come to know is nothing like that courteous young man. He's rough and burly, built like a tower, rabid like a beast and distrustful like never before. Keeps to himself as if he were a shadow, and the only reason Byleth has caught sight of him the few times she has is because she has unashamedly followed his traces, kept his ever-changing schedule memorized inside her head. She can't help the need that blossoms inside of her whenever the thought of Dimitri pops up in her head. The need to make sure he's alive. Here. Still fighting and kicking and going forward.
Even though she thinks he is doing it in all the wrong ways.
Her hands make quick work preparing the bandages and cleaning tools and she turns to Dimitri. "He asked me to help with your wounds. Strip, please."
"No."
She remains unperturbed. His rejections have never really bothered her. "We have to make sure your wound does not get infected, so if you could remove-"
"No," he snarls this time, and Byleth stares at him, bites her lip and can't really fight the frown that starts forming on her face.
"We are all tired and worked to the bone, Dimitri. Dedue can't come and he asked for my help, could you please let me do this?"
It's maybe the name of his friend that shakes him out of his trance, maybe the way she rubbed into his face how everyone is already doing the best they can. She sees the tension leaving his shoulders ever so slightly as he takes his clothes off. To anyone else it might have been just the movement of his breathing, but she knows, she has seen it before, so long ago. He's giving in. And the small seed of hope she has always held close shines, shines so bright she has to stop herself from showing it.
It is clear Rodrigue's loss has shaken him. The pain made him lash out even harder. But this time he also has Dedue. He has Dedue and her, and it seems something has finally changed. For a second or even less, the young lord turned king has shone through, and she has to grasp this opportunity.
She turns to grab the scissors in a second. And Dimitri uses that time to steal a glance at her. At his professor. At his Byleth. The longing that fills him nauseates him as well. He hates her. He hates everything. Hates every person who ever comes close only for them to go away and then come back and then go away. They will. The only thing he knows is that eventually, surely, they will go.
And he can't take it any more.
Her hand is cold and Dimitri winces. He wants to keep on rejecting her, on snarling and keeping her away -he never can do it quite right-, she always comes back. With her sweet voice and her soft words, wanting to know about him and his struggles and probing and asking about things he would rather keep buried.
She has come back and he hates her for it. He has already mourned her. Has already cried all of his tears searching for her.
She was gone. Completely gone.
And she took whatever softness he had with her.
Her hand cleans off the bandages on his body and he has to fight the urge to grab them and bring them to his face. To breathe her in properly. Like he hasn't done before, not since she came back.
His body tenses and he knows he should push her away, bark at her to keep away, as he has done so far. As she has done so far. But Dedue's return has made him waver, Rodrigue's death has destabilized him. He didn't care any more about his losses because he had already lost everything he held dear. He had gone on his own, alone, because if only he was to lose his life…
What did it fucking matter.
And then she found him… just like she promised so many years ago. As if nothing had ever happened. As if she hadn't disappeared and left him alone.
So utterly and completely alone…
"Just leave me alone," he breathes. A sigh, a lament he can't keep inside. A plea for her to keep her distance, because any more than this and…
She doesn't. Since she has come back, she never leaves. It's always him walking away while fuming in anger, always him keeping silent even though she makes attempts to communicate with him. Always him staring at her, shooting daggers through his eyes, and she stares back, tense, nervous, until he has to make as if she's not there. He wishes she weren't here. He wishes she had gone far away from this place, like the thoughts that betrayed him into the night. Away from here and away from him and happy with someone else. She could do it.
She's lovable and charming and if she so wanted-
She's wiping his body with a wet cloth and Dimitri bites his lips to eat the groans that want to escape him. She whispers sorry after sorry and he can't take it anymore. He doesn't raise his head, keeps his face hidden against his arm.
"If you're just going to disappear again then just stop." He means to say the words with an edge, with a hint of accusation and reproach, all in one. To put the blame on her for his pain and his suffering. But his voice comes out weak and lost and he-
Her hand touches his arm and Dimitri forces himself to remain still. He won't look at her. He won't look at her. Her touch is soft and full of care and it crumbles whatever resolve he has left.
Which is nothing.
"Dimitri." Her voice blesses his ears, full of promises he wants to hear but loathes to be given. With so much love he wants to devour just to spit right back at her feet. "I never-" she starts, and his heart is already heavy with guilt.
He knows. He knows. He has told himself the same story hundreds and thousands of times before. The only reason she would have left him. The only way she would have turned her back on him.
"I know it might not sound like the truth, but I swear I don't know what happened. I was fighting and then I woke up in the same river… just years later."
Her fingertips are trembling and she moves them down his arm, to his hand. She wants reassurance too. "Dimitri," she is so close. So close. "You know I wouldn't have left you alone like that… right?" Is she crying? "I wouldn't have-" he can smell her already, how close is she? "I didn't want to leave you, either."
She knows. She knows how he feels. Even after being apart for so long, she can still read him with ease. The times when he snarled and remained quiet, he was distant and cold, but not… hateful. He was trying to keep her and everyone away because he had lost so much. And if this is her chance to lay her feelings bare, she will do so. "I wanted to be with you, too. I never wanted to leave."
He closes his fingers around her hand but doesn't look at her. And she doesn't care. This is all she needs, just his heart showing emotion, just himself being open. Just one small gesture is enough for her and she claps her hands over his, she's trembling and she worries how much that might put Dimitri off this encounter, but she can't let go of his hand. Not this time. Not ever.
Dimitri moves his head slightly, still mostly hidden behind his shoulder. Byleth looks to the ground, her hands not letting go, and he breaks. "I also wanted to- I didn't want you to go," Byleth looks up and he hides again, "I searched for months," years, even, he would come back to the same place in hopes that she-
His voice quivers and he's scared now Byleth will realize his feelings and-
"Dimitri," she whispers, so soft, like she's caressing him, and he wishes she would-
Her arm surrounds him and though it takes him a second, he falls into their half-embrace. "I'm sorry," she says and she buries her face on the space between his neck and his shoulder, "I'm sorry."
"No." He should apologize, beg even. Why didn't he let her in before? Why couldn't he?
He knows. Because he was scared, scared to let her in just to lose her again. He's scared still, but if he's to lose people anyway, why can't he embrace her and touch her as he pleases before it happens?
"I," he leans into her, "I should be the one apologizing, I-"
Byleth hugs him tighter and it's her obvious need to feel him closer, the way she trembles while clinging to him that makes him break free from her embrace, that makes him stop hiding and face her. His body turned to her, her arms on his hands. She's there, like always, bright-eyed, beautiful and strong. His Byleth.
She looks so perfect, with her surprise on her face, her worry still etched into her body. She's worried he might put up his wall again. He half wants to, the idea that she might reject him still a nagging worry at the back of his head. Her eyes scan him and rest a second longer on his bare chest and that's enough to let him entertain the idea that maybe she desires him in the same way he does.
"I thought you died," his confession breaks his voice, even though he doesn't want it to. Her whole face falls and she tries to come to him again, embrace him in a hug he desperately needs, but he keeps her away still.
If she keeps on coming closer, she must know what he wants from her. She is his mentor and professor, sure, but he no longer wishes to only be seen as her student and subordinate.
He brings her closer bit by bit, relishing in the way her pulse quickens, in the way her cheeks blush. She might… she might want this too.
"I mourned you," he confesses and though he doesn't want to put his professor under distress, knowing that she feels so much for his pain is… exhilarating.
He buries his face on her chest, and it doesn't get lost on him that this is a wish of his that has finally been granted. He lets go of her hands and he feels his heart on his ears, as he wonders what she will finally do.
Push him away and keep her distance? Bring him in further? Pat his back in a polite gesture?
She buries herself on his hair and breaths him in as her arms circle him. "I'm sorry," she says for the umpteenth time and he answers with his arms around her back, pushing her to him even closer. He knows he's crying when he hears her shushing voice, low and soft. And he knows he needs her when he clings to her.
"Don't leave me again," a plea he never wanted to share. Such a burden. "Don't leave me again, please." A cry he wants answered but can't help but feel the fear of rejection creeping around.
Byleth shakes her head vigorously, "I won't," her mouth is close to his neck, so close to his skin. "I will never leave you, Dimitri." She stops herself and puts distance between them, "And, uh, I know what happened before, but, Dimitri, I swear, I would have never left-"
Dimitri stands up, his full height in front of Byleth. He towers over her, his hair falling in curtains around his face, keeping her in focus. "So you won't leave me now?"
His precious, innocent, lovely Byleth gulps down first before speaking the truth in a low and quivering voice he hopes comes from excitement, "Unless Sothis pulls up another one of her tricks… it's the only way I would ever leave you."
Is it a confession? He hopes it is. He wants it to be one. He doubles over, slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, her cheeks grow redder the closer he gets. Can he kiss her?
"May I-?" Taste you? He wants to say, but the word brings him out of his trance and the realization that he may have said that out loud, that his mind is filled with words and actions that he can't bring himself to share make him hesitate and blush profusely.
And Byleth catches onto his hesitation, a small smile blooming onto her face. She frees her hands and brings them to his cheeks. Her fingers are cold to the touch and she drags them gingerly down his face. "May I- may I kiss you?"
He doesn't know if he nods or not, if he whispers a yes or not, but the next moment he feels her breath on his face and whatever he did, he did good. Her lips on his are the softest, most delicious thing he has ever felt and he knows one thing and one thing only.
He wants more.
He chases after her and he catches himself only when he has to breathe. Byleth is trapped under him, a table beneath her, her lips red and her breath labored. He tries to give her space, "I'm sorry, profe- Byleth."
But she catches him mid-way, her eyes caught on his face, her hand bringing him closer. "Don't- don't go."
His own temperature rises and he feels his chest raising and falling, too fast, too strained. He catches her eyes and he doubles over before he can think it through. He waits close to her, his lips trembling in anticipation, his nose drowning in her smell.
She smells so damn good.
It's her, gods, it's her who brings him down the remaining distance towards her lips and he devours her. His mind is muffled but even then he can hear her sweet moans slipping out, the way she tries to stifle them enough to make him want to hear her screams.
He presses and drags his hands over her body and it's her own hands covering her mouth that contain her mewls from leaking into the hallways. The thought of somebody else listening to this gives him a second of clarity where he stands and looks at her, worried. She misinterprets him. And her hands reach for his arms, and her body follows his and her face says it all. He kisses her again, but this time he can think.
"We should move to a more private area."
He blushes as he realizes that this openly indicates he wants to keep doing this and go even further. He's being conceited, how dare he believe that Byleth would want for more to happen? She's not pent-up and burning with the desire he feels. If anything, he should give her the opportunity to say no, "If- if you would accept to keep on-"
Her breasts push against his chest and her arms circle his neck, "You-your room or mine?"
He can't see her face, but the sliver of skin he catches is burning red and he- his blood sings. "Mine, please." His voice is low and growly and it surprises him. He sounds needy.
He sure as hell feels like it.
Byleth nods against his chest and though they have just decided to move from here, neither moves. Her skin and her body feel too good for Dimitri to let her go, so he waits.
It's Byleth that puts distance between them, only for her to whisper that she still needs to dress his wound before leaving. Their faces are red as she moves her hands over his body, everything is different, and as if a testament to it, Byleth lays a feather kiss on Dimitri's shoulder once she's done. He doesn't move immediately and Byleth worries he may have changed his mind.
That maybe he realizes this whole thing is just his loneliness speaking.
He turns and looks at her with fire in his eyes, with lust, and Byleth can't help the relieved breath that escapes her as he brings her face to his, his hand on her neck. It's chaste compared to the ones he gave her before, and it's full of promise.
"Let us go," he growls.
She doesn't know if the heavens have decided to give them privacy or if Dimitri's senses are honed so much he can move like this. Evading everything and everyone. Maybe that's why she had such a hard time locating him. The thought makes her snort and Dimitri turns to her at the sound, his hand squeezing hers. The corner of his mouth rises and Byleth wants to cry, she wants to hug him right here, but he still moves with intention so she follows. Even in the dorms they meet no one. She blushes, she won't need to bite her hand as much.
The moment Dimitri closes the door to his previous room. To the room that holds so many memories of his student days -so many happy memories-, he turns and Byleth stands there, with her hand grabbing her opposite arm, looking unsure-
No, nervous.
He approaches her and he feels himself straining against his pants. He doesn't know if she notices, but the thought leaves his mind the moment he touches her. She stands on her tiptoes and brings his face to hers, and now it's her who initiates their kiss.
He moans and he grabs her body, her hips full, he brings her closer to him. He wishes for her to feel him. His erection, his desire. He wishes to lay her on his bed and stare at her body, naked and wanting. When she falls to his bed he discards his cape in haste, covering her body the moment after.
When is he supposed to take her clothes off? When is he supposed to take his own clothes off? He wonders for a second, but then her hands find his chest and travel down and he can't remember much.
It's excruciatingly slow, he feels, the way time passes as her hands linger above his pelvis and tease his groin. He leaves her lips, if only to beg at least for her to touch him. But her eyes twinkle and she smiles and he knows she did this on purpose. She cups him and the groan that leaves him is loud, her own eyes growing big in surprise. He can only wonder how louder will he get when she decides to grace him with her touch, skin on skin.
"Can I?" She starts, and her hands tug at his clothes.
Yes.
Yes, she can.
He doesn't answer though, not with words at least. He sits on his heels, and begins to take off his clothes one by one. They fly wherever and her laugh at his haste only makes his blood run faster to his groin. He's unfastening his pants when he wonders if those should come off after. He pauses and looks at Byleth in hopes to find an encouraging nod or something along those lines. But he finds her skin, creamy and soft and she's also taking her own clothes.
He pounces on her and she shrieks as he begins peppering kisses along her chest, her bra still on. Her arms are stuck on her shirt and her eyes look at him with mirth.
He feels like an animal.
But then she wiggles. "Help me out of this," her breathing low and lewd and he takes her shirt from her in a trance. Her hands disappear behind her back and then her bra unhooks, her breasts immediately looking bigger now free of restraints.
And gods… how many times did he fantasize this same scenario when he was a student?
Even when he was looking for her, even after she found him.
He has always desired her.
Her arm covers her chest even after taking her bra, her own face now flushed red, the color reaching her chest. He wants to bite her.
So he does. She yelps as he nips her skin but now both her arms are on his shoulders, and he can finally look at her naked underneath him. There's no damn way she doesn't see his erection now. Or feel it. Because he's sure he's going to become undone soon just because of the friction between their bodies. A small part of his brain is ashamed of this, but then he reins in on himself, whatever, he doesn't care. Even if this whole affair came down to him spilling himself inside his pants.
It would still be the best memory he could ever ask for.
Her moans fill the room and Dimitri feels pride inside his chest. Because he did that. He barely knows what it is he did, but his mouth is doing something right over her chest, and that's all that matters. "Dimitri." His name had never sounded so sweet. "Touch me."
His hand travels down in a second and Byleth pushes against the bed. She's warm. Warmer over her sex. And if he remembers something from the time when things were different and his only problems were being surrounded by his fellow students is the information Sylvain showered him with. He had blushed fiery red and he hadn't been able to say anything back, but. Thanks, Sylvain.
Byleth squirms under him, mewling at his caresses. Their clothes come off bit by bit, in between hot kisses and touches that neither seem to find as satisfactory anymore. Always a bit more, a hand that reaches lower, a kiss that somehow grows even hotter. Their thirst is never quenched and so they drink and bite and follow their bodies.
The air cools his skin, where Byleth has left wet kisses, and his heft sits proud against her sex. They are going to do this and he doesn't know how to feel.
Byleth grabs his hand, her eyes filled with lust. "I'm ready."
Oh, he has been ready since day one. This is a dream come true. No, scratch that, this is a dream. He still can't believe this is actually happening.
Not to him.
But her touch is hot and her kisses still linger, and maybe he can't trust himself but fuck if he would ever again doubt her again. Against everything he had ever thought. She trusts him, she wants him, she -he lets himself believe- loves him.
And he loves her, too. And before he goes down this path, he wants her to know it. That this is not a spur of the moment. That this is something he has coveted- that she is someone he has coveted since the moment he spoke to her. That he knows that if she had been with him all these years, he wouldn't have fallen so low, it was her loss -the loss of someone so pivotal to his life- that brought in thoughts and feelings and memories he couldn't fight.
That he would have fought harder if she had been with him.
That he-
"I love you," he breathes.
She raises her arms and calls for him, her eyes full of unshed tears. Her kisses are soft and gentle and he can feel his heart thumping and squeezing in his chest all at once. And the words that have come out of his mouth feel so real he can't help but repeat them. "I love you." Byleth chuckles, a sound wet and full of glee he can't help but want to hear again. "I-"
"I love you," she interrupts and it's now his time to feel the tears coming. "I love you." Her mouth to his, her hands to his chest, to his back, to his sex. "I love you. I always have."
Her fingers trace his shaft and yes, he wants to move forward too. He needs the physical confirmation of their words, he needs to feel her engulfing him and all that he is. Because he is hers. He buries his moan against her neck at the same time he pushes into her and the feeling is enough to make him go still as a statue, because, oh, oh, he won't be able to stop. So he waits, and kisses every part of Byleth he gets access to, waiting for her forehead to relax, for her hands to loosen and stop her nails from digging into his skin.
Though he would love to get that reaction after a while as a result of their passion.
He waits for her, and it's Byleth who starts their movement again. As her body grows used to Dimitri's, as the tightness is no longer at the forefront of her mind, but rather the way Dimitr's skin feels, or the smell of his body -now so very close to her- and the growing plea from her own depths of wanting to feel herself full and sated and the way she knows how to achieve this is close at hand. With him.
There is a moment of anxiousness as their bodies meet one another and she realizes the noise that engulfs them. Enough for anyone outside to hear, enough for this to be known. And she knows Dimitri knows it too, the smirk that comes easy to his face is telling, the hunger washing over his face as his bed creaks and whines under them, his movements only growing sharper and more powerful.
He wants for this to happen, and it's that knowledge that lets Byleth burty herself in only the pleasure and the way her feelings rise more and more. Her hands trying to find an anchor and finding it in Dimitri's back. His mouth deliciously close to her neck, his breaths washing over her skin, his moans reaching her ears.
It's his hunger that makes her slither and squirm under him, trying to find him and match him. And it's his groans of pleasure that undo her, her muscles tensing and her voice echoing inside this room, and everything vanishes. A blissful second in which she only feels Dimitri's body against her, his warmth reaching her inside, his labored breathing drowning her own.
His body drops over her and though he moves to free her from his weight, she keeps him in place. Her mouth to his shoulder, her breathing still and her body still reeling from the spasms her orgasm has brought. "Don't go," she manages.
His body shakes with one scoff full of mirth, "I wouldn't even think about it." His body slowly pressing onto her, their skin still blissfully sensitive. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, and then after a second, "if you'll have me."
It's her turn to scoff a laugh, "Yes. Yes, stay with me."
He nuzzles into her neck and nips at her skin. Let's himself settle, "Okay."
If it's Byleth asking for it.
"Okay," whatever she needs.
