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Dimitri took another swig from his third mug of ale of the night, letting the warm liquid course down his throat. It left a pleasant feeling in its wake, which is more than he could say for the taste.
Judging by the amounts the others had already consumed, the taste did not seem to pose a problem to the company at large.
In truth, here in this warmly lit hall with his friends surrounding him, all more or less hearty and hale after banishing the Empire from the streets of Derdriu, Dimitri almost felt happy again.
Some of the credit for this went to the man beside him at the table. Claude von Riegan, lately made Duke, was host of the night’s festivities, after all. Lively conversation spilled from his lips as easily as the drink flowed from the casks. The boy Dimitri had known, had roomed next to, had grown into a charismatic leader in his own right.
More than could be said for Dimitri.
The voices and thoughts that tormented him had not yet surfaced tonight. Instead, his mind and body buzzed lightly with alcohol, just enough to dull the senses. Unwise, perhaps. But there were no more enemies to fight tonight except those within.
Someone nearby must have said something jovial or crude—Sylvain, perhaps—which made Claude laugh. Dimitri looked at him again, his eye drawn from the blooming color of his drink-flushed face, down to the hair on his exposed chest, kept in check with a single button of his shirt.
It was brazen. Crass. How anyone could focus in such close proximity to this man, Dimitri did not know.
Not that Dimitri could judge. The shabby clothes and armor he’d worn through over the years would shame the poorest street urchin. At least Claude’s clothes were clean and suited his station.
And he smelled divine. Intoxicating, really.
It made a feeling curl in the pit of Dimitri’s stomach that he hadn’t experienced in years.
He felt Claude’s eyes on him and turned away quickly.
The night had dwindled into the wee hours. Dimitri knew he should retire soon while his sanity was intact. Many of the other soldiers, hailing from both Kingdom and Alliance troops, had already trickled out through the manor halls of House Riegan, though many of his friends remained. Dimitri found he had no desire to be alone for the present, so he stayed.
After a time, Claude laid a hand on his shoulder and bent forward so his lips were level with Dimitri’s ear.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
He stood before Dimitri could answer. Dimitri watched him as he bid goodnight to each member of the remaining company and made his way expertly toward the door without breaking his stride.
His desire sparked yet another dormant sensation within him: curiosity. Dimitri swallowed the last sip of his drink and rose to follow.
Claude was waiting in the hall when Dimitri arrived. “There you are. I was beginning to think you changed your mind.”
He spoke so casually of a decision Dimitri did not remember making aloud. Claude had clearly expected him to follow, however.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked as they began walking.
Claude grinned. “To bed, of course. Did you really think I’d let you get away so easily?”
Dimitri stopped in his tracks, sure he had misheard. Claude sighed and turned back.
“Don’t tell me the Prince of Faerghus has taken a vow of celibacy,” he teased, voice low. “Or was I misreading you all night?”
Heat flooded Dimitri’s head, elevating the light buzz to a stronger pounding. “No,” he murmured. “You were not.”
Claude drew closer until he was inches away, searching him with a long look. His smile returned.
“Excellent. This way, Your Princeliness.”
And he grabbed Dimitri’s hand and pulled him along the deserted hallway.
They passed a few guards and other revelers, ducked through a few passageways that had Dimitri hunching over while Claude tugged him through. Finally, they reached a wider, well-lit foyer through which lay the Duke’s quarters. Claude glanced quickly to either side before pushing through the carved doors.
As soon as the door thudded shut behind them, Dimitri found his back pressed against it with Claude’s arm bracketing him to one side and his breath dusting Dimitri’s face.
“Stop me if this isn’t what you want,” he said, pulling Dimitri’s face down to his own.
Claude’s mouth was warm and soft, guiding open Dimitri’s lips with gentle tugs. The heady sensation of their breaths combining caused Dimitri to inhale deeply and fill his head with Claude’s cologne.
It was exactly what Dimitri wanted, and the last thing he deserved.
Not for the first time, he wished he could banish the ghosts in his mind, their voices even now deriding him for his choices. The familiar shame welled up in response, but there was no point in trying to shut that out. Dimitri accepted it, let it enshroud him like a second cloak until its presence dulled and blended with the rest, sinking into his very skin.
Claude, as it turned out, was an excellent distraction. He kissed without inhibition, and the brush of his lips followed by the scratch of his beard formed an exquisite contrast better than anything Dimitri could remember tasting. Desire roared through him in that same terrifying way that bloodlust often did, consuming his thoughts until only one goal remained. As Claude’s arm wound around his neck, he wrapped his own around the small of Claude’s back, arching Claude into his body. It wasn’t enough.
When they stopped to breathe properly, Dimitri could see Claude’s chest rising and falling. He let his eye follow the pattern of dark hair down as far as he could see, all the way back up to the stubble lining his chin, the dark waves spilling over Claude’s forehead and into those bright, sharp eyes.
Claude was so, so beautiful.
“Dimitri.”
It was the way he said it, calmly, factually. Speaking his name into existence. Dimitri’s stomach fluttered in spite of himself.
He followed Claude into the bedroom proper.
If asked, Dimitri would not be able to describe the setting of Duke Riegan’s rooms. Not the layout, the decorations, the size. The sconces were dim, curtains drawn, and what remained visible barely filtered through the blurry haze of his head. As soon as they passed through to where Claude ostensibly slept, Claude grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bed, which flickered in the light of a nearby fireplace.
Claude let go, and Dimitri suddenly found himself nervous. As if Claude could tell how desperately he wanted to be touched, how long it had been since such affection had been granted him, and was distancing himself from such desperation.
“Not grand enough for a prince?” Claude asked, leaning against the bedspread.
Dimitri stared dumbly for a moment and then frowned. “You are toying with me.”
“Just making sure you’re still here.”
Claude unbuttoned the last of his shirt and untucked it from his sash so it hung fully open. Before he could shrug it off entirely, Dimitri said, “Wait.”
He stepped forward and asked, “May I?”
Claude nodded. Swallowing, Dimitri slid his hand along Claude’s shoulder, letting his thumb trace his collarbone as his fingers pushed aside the shirt’s collar. He kept his touch light down Claude’s arm as it slipped free of the sleeve, fingertips tingling as they met Claude’s wrist.
He repeated the motions with Claude’s other arm until the shirt fell to the floor. Claude’s lips parted with an infinitesimal breath. Dimitri stared at that tantalizing space, at the pulse jumping in Claude’s neck.
A ray of guilt burned through the fog of his desire, followed quickly by its cousin self loathing, playing their usual refrain of his unworthiness, his uselessness outside of his sole purpose. Dimitri closed his eye and clenched his jaw shut. Surely this was too good to be true. If he opened them, he would awaken in his tent outside the city.
“Everything OK?”
Claude’s voice was a caress in itself. Dimitri took a shaky breath and met his gaze. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said.
Seconds passed as Claude considered him. “Is that according to you, or someone else?”
Dimitri didn’t know how to answer that. A corner of Claude’s mouth lifted, but his eyes held their cool focus.
“Last time I checked, you were the leading authority around here.”
This wasn’t necessarily true; they were in Claude’s house for one. Awareness of Claude’s proximity floated into him atop the scent of that cologne. He couldn’t bring his feet to move away, had no wish to. He wanted to touch all of Claude’s skin that he could see and all that he couldn’t. An indulgence he couldn’t be trusted with.
“I shouldn’t—I’ve done nothing to deserve…” Your attention. These feelings.
A flicker of surprise, then Claude shrugged. The motion rippled through his body, as if Dimitri could see the muscles relaxing one by one. A surrender to encourage surrender.
“Deserve what, this? Neither have I. I didn’t even deserve rescuing, yet you came for me anyway.” His mouth curved further. “And you will again tonight if I have anything to say about it.”
Dimitri snorted, and his surprise at the sound drew another ungainly laugh out of him. He then made the mistake of looking at Claude again, whose face wore relief mixed with genuine pleasure. If he’d meant to put Dimitri at ease, he had succeeded.
“Truth is, I owe you my life, as do so many others here,” said Claude. He traced a finger along the hem of Dimitri’s cloak near the open clasp, nudging it slowly outward.
“And this is your expression of gratitude?”
It was Claude’s turn to laugh. They were so close, it raised goosebumps on his neck. “Oh, not at all. This I’m doing for completely selfish reasons.”
The cloak had slipped entirely off one shoulder without Dimitri noticing. Momentum soon pulled the whole thing to the floor with a soft thump. He heard the crackling of a log in the fireplace behind him. Still, Dimitri waited, unsure. This wasn’t a dance he knew well.
Claude took one of Dimitri’s hands and placed it gingerly at his side along his ribcage. The other he guided to his waist. His touch was an offering; he’d called Dimitri the leading authority, hadn’t he?
Dimitri’s blood hummed to life within him. He dug his fingers into that skin and slowly leaned forward so his hips pushed Claude further into the bed. His hair drooped into his face as he lowered his head. Claude’s chin tilted up, drawing his eye to that clever mouth, but Dimitri passed it by in favor of dragging his lips over Claude’s neck until he found the pulse point and sucked lightly. Claude’s stuttered breath carried the softest of moans.
He drew kisses upward and along Claude’s jaw without breaking contact. Inhaling deeply as he went. Claude turned and caught him with his lips. His hand cupped Dimitri’s face, and his nails scratched gently into his hair as he pried him open.
Dimitri shut his eye and savored each kiss like a mouthful of warm tea. The fog in his head had dissipated to steam in the heat of Claude’s body against his. Claude was right, he knew. Why should he hesitate? Claude wasn’t an enemy, nor an obstacle to his ultimate goals. They weren’t beholden to each other in any way. Claude was leaving the country and had decided that Dimitri was someone worth spending his last few hours with. So far he was very convincing.
They were arranged in such a way so that Dimitri hunched over him, Claude braced upon one arm on the bed behind him while the other hand clung to Dimitri’s neck and shoulder. Each had a knee pressed between the other’s legs, and every movement had Claude hardening against him and Dimitri straining to be free of his clothes.
Claude crept backwards, luring Dimitri further onto the bed. He barely had the presence of mind to tug off his shirt and boots, not wanting to leave the orbit of Claude’s body for even a second. Claude’s touch was searing, hands sliding hot on Dimitri’s skin as he pulled him down and licked an open-mouthed kiss along his jaw. An embarrassing sound rumbled from Dimitri’s throat alongside it. Each place they touched felt like a stone tumbling loose from a mountaintop.
But where Dimitri was a held-back landslide, Claude was more like thread slowly unspooling. He had yet to lose that composure of calm, controlled pleasure. Dimitri wanted to take that thread and pull and pull and pull.
He planted his legs on either side of Claude and straddled him. The muscles in Claude’s stomach flexed, and he hooked two fingers in Dimitri’s waistband and yanked hard. Dimitri squeezed his legs to keep balance and watched Claude bite back a moan at the friction it caused.
Dimitri stared down at Claude as he caught his breath. Sweat beaded at Claude’s forehead, sticking some strands of hair to his skin. The slant of his chin was a taunt, but his eyes searched Dimitri’s face for something.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked quietly. Half defiant and half sincere.
Dimitri examined the outline of Claude’s cock through his pants and placed a gentle hand atop it. He heard a sharp inhale and glanced up to see Claude watching him intently. Without looking away, he ran a torturously slow finger up and down the length of it. Waiting for Claude’s impatience to betray him. Feeling him twitch underneath.
His own body thrummed with need, but he forced himself to slow down. He untied Claude’s sash with careful movements, letting his fingers brush casually against Claude’s hip. Once that was done, he reached for the pants and underclothes. Dragged his thumb down the path of dark hair until he felt the bedcovers tighten in Claude’s fists. He licked his lips.
When he went to push Claude’s pants out of the way, Claude moved his leg as if to pull it free; Dimitri pressed down firmly to keep it in place.
“Don’t struggle,” he warned. It came out more of a command than he intended.
Claude’s breath quickened but he stopped moving. “Or what, you’ll fuck me harder?” he said, voice on the edge of a rasp.
Dimitri groaned. He hadn’t been sure how this would play out, but now that Claude had given him a direction his cock jumped in agreement. Yes.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said hoarsely.
“What makes you think you will?” Claude slid his hands up Dimitri’s thighs and began to unfasten Dimitri’s pants. Despite having been in the middle of undressing Claude, Dimitri let him do it. He sucked in a breath as Claude curled his hand around his cock. It felt hot and tight and incredible on his skin.
What made him think it? He couldn’t trust his strength even in the gentlest situations, and looking at Claude right now Dimitri had no wish to be gentle.
“Is that what you want, then?” he asked. “For me to fuck you?”
Claude shivered. He took a long, considering look at Dimitri’s cock within his grip and bit his lip with evident hunger.
“Only if you’re up for it,” he said.
Dimitri was. If he even made it that far; Claude had begun pumping him with long gliding strokes that made his breath stutter in his chest.
With effort, he wrenched himself from Claude’s grasp and pinned down Claude’s hips with both hands. He watched the movement of Claude’s chest as he grazed his lips along the valley of skin that led from hip to inner thigh. He pushed the clothes down with him as he went, freed Claude’s cock from containment, and let the warmth of his breath dust the tip. Claude tried to jerk his hips up but Dimitri held him firm. When he lifted his head, Claude’s gaze caught him like a hand to his throat.
Once the clothes were out of the way, Dimitri drank his fill of the view. He had thought Claude beautiful as a boy, but this was something else entirely. Where Dimitri still felt lanky and thin, too stretched out over his bones, Claude had filled out into smooth, taut lines of muscle. Thin scars at his elbow and down one calf marred the otherwise even brown of his skin, except for a rising flush that crept up the line of his throat and splashed over his unfairly handsome cheekbones. The sight of it made Dimitri’s mouth water.
He might have imagined a flash of hesitation, or even shyness, in the lift of Claude’s eyebrows, but when he looked again Claude had already donned the smile he wore like armor.
“Come here,” he said.
Dimitri crawled over him in two long strides. He ran his hands up that chest he’d stared at all evening, pushing Claude further down into the bed. He put his lips to that smile and kissed it hard until Claude was gasping for breath beneath him. Claude’s hands found Dimitri’s pants and shoved them down out of the way. He bucked his hips up into Dimitri, who growled and sunk his weight into Claude, arms trembling beneath him.
They kissed like this, mouths and chests and cocks pressing feverishly together, Claude’s hands roving all over him, until Dimitri thought he might burst. He drew back with some relief as Claude broke the kiss and rolled over the few feet to retrieve something from his nightstand.
“Here,” Claude said. His mouth looked ravaged, hair a disheveled mess, and Dimitri could practically see his own thumbprints at Claude’s collarbone. He handed Dimitri a small bottle of oil and lay back among the pillows.
Dimitri unstoppered it somewhat clumsily and let it drip over his fingers. He knew the steps here, though he’d never performed them all in sequence. He could only hope that the urgency of his own need would keep him from over-focusing on the details and making a complete fool of himself.
First one finger, and then two, and then—with a quick appraising glance at himself—a third for good measure. Claude took them all so smoothly with the oil’s help, ripples of pleasure cascading up his stomach through his chest, it made Dimitri’s throat run dry. He used the remainder to slick himself from base to tip, shuddering at the feel of it. Then he lifted one of Claude’s legs beneath his thigh and brought their bodies together.
He cast one final, uncertain glance at his own cock and then at Claude as his tip brushed the entrance. Claude groaned.
“You’re sure about this?” Dimitri couldn’t help the catch in his voice, but it was now or never. He could only restrain himself for so long.
“Don’t you dare back out on me now,” Claude said, need straining every line of his body. The leg still supporting his weight shook. “You won’t—break me, your princeliness.”
“My name,” Dimitri gritted out, remembering the shape of it in Claude’s mouth from earlier. “Use my name.”
Something molten dripped from Claude’s eyes and pooled in the curve of his smile. He laid a hand on the back of Dimitri’s neck and coaxed him downwards so he could burrow his fingers into Dimitri’s hair.
“Dimitri,” he whispered against Dimitri’s lips.
Dimitri couldn’t help it; he pushed his way in, inch by glorious inch, both of them breathing heavily, until Claude’s body enveloped the whole of him.
All of Dimitri’s blood surged toward a single point.
“Goddess,” he gasped.
“Fuck,” said Claude, sounding wrecked.
He shifted his legs higher to hook them around Dimitri’s hips, and the motion caused heat to flare like lightning through Dimitri. He pulled out partway and shoved back in, feeling Claude’s responding moan shiver through them both. Forget the pleasant buzz from his drink earlier—desire now had him completely lightheaded.
With Claude wrapped so tightly around him, Dimitri was free to grip the edge of the headboard for better purchase. He thrust slowly in again, and then faster, each one opening the chasm of wanting deeper and wider. Dimitri wondered if it was possible for it to swallow him whole. He’d never been allowed to want something like this; satisfaction in bed was not considered necessary for one in his position, particularly if one’s partner couldn’t provide an heir.
Dimitri held his eye open, determined not to blink while he could instead watch the hot flush suffusing Claude’s face travel down to his chest, Claude’s eyes darkening to black in the dim light. The room had warmed significantly, from the fire or perhaps just from the heat of Claude panting into his neck, of skin grazing hot skin.
Claude’s hair teased his face, and Dimitri leaned down to bury his nose in it while biting softly at Claude’s ear. He shifted his grip for balance.
Wood splintered beneath it.
The sound pierced through and hit upon frames of memory within him: his hands, gauntleted, wrapped around other things—cold steel, rough-hewn wooden spears, the throat of an enemy soldier. Bones snapping amid the stench of blood and burnt flesh. Screams reverberated in his skull.
Dimitri stilled as the world shook around him. His lungs felt squeezed beneath a tightening rib cage, and he grit his teeth so hard he thought his jaw might break.
“Dimitri?” A muffled voice tried to surface from within the soup of his brain.
“Dimitri.” Warm hands cupped his face. Claude’s hands. Claude’s voice.
“Stay with me, stay right here with me,” Claude murmured the words as his thumbs traced Dimitri’s cheekbones.
The sensations swirled amid the turbulence of his mind. Other voices made themselves known: why even bother? You can’t even do this right, said one which might have been his own.
Dimitri’s chest heaved with shallow breaths; he inhaled slower and deeper as the fear ebbed, filling his lungs with the scent of body heat and cologne and a woody incense smell that lingered somewhere in the room. He’d be damned twice over before squandering this chance.
He cracked open his eye.
“There you are,” said Claude, almost tender. “Do you want to—”
He cut off with a gasp as Dimitri closed a hand around his cock.
Seeing Claude trapped beneath him had brought the stubborn force of his arousal careening back into his body. He took his time stroking with a loose grip, sweeping his thumb over the wetness leaking from the slit, reveling in the way Claude’s hands slid into Dimitri’s hair as his breath escaped him.
“I’m sorry about the bed,” Dimitri said.
Claude sucked Dimitri’s bottom lip between his teeth and made a noise of impatience. “Apologize later.”
Dimitri deepened the kiss, letting it spill over to the sweat-damp edge of Claude’s beard. Wondering whether the taste of it could ever match the twin sensations of touch and smell that flooded him. Then Claude clenched around him and he forgot everything else.
His other hand abandoned the headboard in favor of holding Claude’s narrow hips for dear life. Following Claude’s lead, his sounds of pleasure on the cusp of pain, Dimitri fucked as hard as he dared. He felt the oncoming rush of his release and tried desperately to stall it, until Claude stiffened underneath him and came in waves between Dimitri’s fingers. Dimitri’s last line of defense snapped—he buried himself as far as he could inside Claude, who kissed him through it, his lips moving in tandem with each rough jerk of Dimitri’s hips.
They were both panting when it was over. Claude’s legs loosened but didn’t relinquish their hold around him. Dimitri detached from the kiss and slid his hands around to Claude’s ass, holding him in place while he caught his breath.
Eventually they pulled apart. Dimitri rolled onto his back. Every part of him ached in some manner. He doubted he’d ever felt so sated before. Not that he would say as much to Claude, who stretched languidly beside him. Who knew what dangerous smile would unfurl in response.
As the afterglow dissipated, Dimitri felt lost at sea, or at least on an unfamiliar shoreline, somewhere on the border of intimacy and careful distance. Slowly, he tucked himself back into his clothing, wiping his hand on the bedcover, tugging on his shirt, adjusting his eyepatch which had gone askew. Claude, with nowhere to go, simply cleaned himself off with his shirt and watched Dimitri in silence. The part of Dimitri that wasn’t fully wrung out lingered longingly on Claude’s mouth.
He exhaled and tore his gaze away. He would have to return downstairs soon. Dedue was surely waiting for him.
Claude propped himself up on an elbow.
“I’d ask if you’ll miss me,” he said, “but judging by your face I already know the answer.”
Dimitri, who had been staring unfocused at the opposite wall, turned his head to look at him. It didn’t matter what he thought. He had a purpose, and he would do all he could to fulfill it. Not to mention Claude’s own ambitions were leading him to places Dimitri could not follow. There was no room for anything else.
And yet. “I will,” he said, into the quiet.
Claude hummed, leaning back into the pillows. And they lay there together, briefly, in the dying firelight, joined in the knowledge that it had to be enough.