[When Byleth closes the door, leaving them swathed only in shadow, a faint nervousness tinges every cognizant thought. He becomes overly aware of where she stands — moving closer to him — and his heart once more thuds hard in his chest, not knowing what to expect. Or perhaps because he does know what to expect.
Much of his overthinking, however, goes flying out of his mind when she completely closes that space and kisses him. There’s no time to question it, no time to ask what she expects from him tonight, only the heated press of her lips against his own.
He can’t help but lean into it — returning it with a fervor that echoes their first. Just like Dimitri cannot help the noise of satisfaction he makes from the back of his throat, an arm reaching out to loop around her waist.]
[this kind of stimulation is new and byleth finds herself enjoying it, a spark of enthusiasm coursing through her as she feels dimitri draw her closer, an arm around her waist — in the noise that he makes, draining her of the air in her lungs like it's not her own to begin with.]
[her face heats up, her hands on his neck and cheek, her kisses earnest and hungry. she breathes against his skin, slowly finding room beyond his collarbone to put her hands on. on his arms, as she pushes him back towards the bed.]
—sit.
[byleth commands, voice low, her eyes opening to meet his own heated gaze.]
[One arm remains looped around her middle while the other begins to trail from her shoulder to the side of her face, leaning in further to indulge himself in the kiss. It would be easy enough to lose himself in this one moment, to be happy enough with just this alone (his heart still feels like it may explode) but suddenly Byleth’s hands are at his forearms—
And pushing him back, sending his balance gently backwards and giving him no choice but to sit on the bed. The mattress jostles a little under his sudden weight.
His voice is a bit breathless.]
Byleth... [He meets her gaze, a smoldering thing. Dimitri feels like he is to await a command, not unlike on the battlefield— or rather, perhaps a little different.]
[she gathers him for context clues, dimitri for once not really expressing more other than her name. there's usually a question asking for her input or an offer of advice—something. but now, this is different. this is new.]
[fumbling lightly with what to do next, she manages to appear to keep her cool and walk over to him and stand between his legs, her hands lifting to cup his face and rest just under his ears.]
...I don't know what I'm doing.
[better to admit this before they push anything too far with the expectation that one or the other would know what to work with.]
But I know that I want to do this with you. [she mutters, nodding. she isn't so ignorant or dumb as to what kind of things people like sylvain get up to.] Would it be okay?
[His breath stills when she stands before him, reaching down to cup his face in her hands. He tilts his head up on instinct, always seeking that touch — her hands, always so warm, a source of comfort even in… uncertainty.
Because despite everything, he has to chuckle. Light, a twisted-up in wryness, but not without fondness.]
Of course. [Of course it would be okay. There is no one else that he would wish to learn how to share his adoration with.] I do not know what I am doing either, my love. You will find that you are in good company.
[she nods again, smiling at him — her nails faint on his skin as she leans in again and kisses him, soft and gentle this time. perhaps she can, from this point onwards, avoid speaking to dimitri altogether and communicate instead with kisses? that might be something. perhaps not entirely conducive to holding a conversation.]
[when byleth pulls away, byleth pushes him to scoot more onto the middle of the bed while she, too, takes a seat close to him — so close that she's pretty much sitting on his lap as she seeks for another kiss.]
[it's a slow one again; her cheeks flushed, eyes closed, a tentative hand pressing onto his side and sliding downwards until it rests at his hipbone.]
[He wishes he knew how to do more, how to feel confident enough to take the lead, but his inexperience is as he says — he doesn’t know what he’s doing, only able to work on instinct and whatever guidance she might happen to give. He does move closer to the middle of the bed when urged, his first inclination to make room for her, but Byleth is suddenly so close next to him she might as well be on his lap, and his breath hitches again.
She kisses him, and he seeks her lips with equal fervency, a hand leaning back into the mattress and unsure what to do with his other. Dimitri knows that he wants to feel her, though, as much as he can, that she should be as close as possible— so he reaches out behind her, looping his arm around and shifting her weight (easy to do with his strength) so she is in his lap, practically straddling him.
When he breaks that kiss again, looking up at her, his eye is searching and his cheeks are already so flushed. That headache from before? Fading, replaced by a different kind of pulse throughout his body.]
You can... [It seems that a little verbal communication will be necessary.] You can tell me what it is you want me to do. What you think you like.
[sitting like this, on him, byleth is suddenly hyper-aware of the kind of intimacy they are mustering up the courage to fumble into. she hasn't really thought much about it—about what she thinks she would like, or what it is she would want her partner to do. her green eyes stare questioningly at dimitri's own, as if trying to communicate this very sentiment.]
[perhaps she should just tackle this like a strategy for battle.]
Do what you feel is right. [somewhat unhelpful...] Eventually, we'll have to remove our clothes, so... we could start there. [quickly, she offers:] You can touch me however you want.
Reach out confidently.
[she reaches out, as if in demonstration, putting her hands around his head and carefully pulling up the threads of the eyepatch up.]
I trust you. [she nods] What is mine is yours.
[this is more of a confidence boost than an actual map for what to do, but byleth is certain it will help out. her trust in dimitri basically speaks that they will meet each other halfway, were there anything they did or didn't want.]
[that is to say— it bears repeating—] Touch me however you want.
[It’s strange. She presents to him something like a roadmap — a very vague roadmap, sure — but knowing that he possesses her trust, so much that he might do “what feels right” and touch her however he pleases, is reassuring. It’s the kind of guidance that Byleth always gives him, in and out of the battlefield. General instruction, but an inherent confidence that he may take matters into his own hands if deemed necessary.
None of this is necessity (though his body might be disagree later), but in the midst of an intimacy that remains foreign to him, Dimitri appreciates the advice to act confidently. To be given everything, and to expect the same in return.
He nods, even as she removes his eyepatch, revealing the scarring across his right eye and an iris gone a paler blue in its uselessness.]
It's… unflattering, I know.
[His eye, he means, believing it to be a particularly ugly feature. But Dimitri isn’t concerned about her seeing it so openly (trust, as she said), and his ease of sliding his hands beneath her shirt almost immediately is proof of that. His fingertips are calloused against her skin, his tough never one that knew delicacy, and they run up along her torso and sides, feeling planes of muscle that had all been hidden to him before.]
[she shakes her head at his words, pressing a kiss on his cheek just under where the scar ends. his hands move under her shirt, and her breath hitches at the sensation. she's never been touched by a man in this manner before, and it's thrilling. tilting her head to the side, byleth puts her hands on his forearms and follow them towards her shirt, grabbing at the edge of it and slowly pulling it up—without preamble and without much warning, her eyes closed as she shakes her hair into place.]
[her coat falls from her shoulders in the same movement, and, needless to say, dimitri is met with byleth's bare chest.]
[scars mar her skin, her muscles on her biceps and torso tight; no one is perfect, and her skin can be just as unflattering as his own scar. her flush spreads from her face to her shoulders, but it doesn't deter her from taking hold of one of his hand to rest on her breast.]
[His hands had begun a slow journey upwards, their end destination her upper chest— But then Byleth but removes her shirt, bearing all for him to see, and Dimitri’s own heart goes haywire, sending blood careening through his body to make his flush all the more prevalent. She moves his hand to rest on her breast, and he— Goddess, logically he knew that it would come to this, but it is more than he ever imagined in the breath of a moment. If he had ever quietly fantasized about touching her in this way — thoughts that were quickly tamped down out of propriety and perhaps a bit of shame, in his younger years — then they have suddenly become reality, and it’s almost comedic that he doesn’t know what to do.
Do what you feel is right, she had said, and all he can do is submit to his body’s instincts, his want for her that had been growing for some time now. Dimitri lets out a shuddering breath and cups her breast with his hand, rolling a calloused thumb over her nipple. His other lingers at her torso, tracing past long-healed scars, where the skin has gone paler than the rest. Scars earned together, in a way.]
I am not. [Ah, he cannot accept that kind of praise so easily. But for her—] But you are, beautiful in every way.
[He leans forward, knowing only that he wants to place his lips somewhere on her body, on these new and unexplored territories. They brush over her chest, and he tilts his head lower to place eager and sloppy kisses on her unattended breast, working his way slowly down to its center. His own body, meanwhile, feels like it’s been set aflame, a growing heat that can only be sated by her. By all of her, he’s starting to believe.]
[it's a learning experience for the both of them, and while dimitri lavishes her like she was a goddess (too close to home—), she can't help feeling irreparably mortal under his touch. her breathing quickens as he zeroes his focus onto her, soft sighs of enjoyment at the touch that he employs upon her skin, upon her breasts.]
Dimitri...
[his lips and tongue feel warm against her breast, sending an electric sensation spiraling down, she light shift of her legs but a reaction to the sensation.]
[her hands hold onto his shoulders, tugging the cloak (bae) away. the heat between them is growing, and she wants to see dimitri bare before her, without any layers to keep himself separate from the rest. she tugs at his shirt, a small squeak escaping her as she clamps down her lips to keep herself from moaning out in pleasure at whatever goddess's work he is doing onto her.]
Mmn. [—is the only sounds he makes at first, his mouth preoccupied by her skin, his tongue passing across her nipple. She tugs at his cloak, and he shifts, allowing it to be shrugged off with relative ease, without needing to interrupt his ministrations against her skin.
When she moves her legs, only slightly, it’s still enough to present a small amount of friction to his groin (already he can feel the space in his trousers running too tight, Goddess, how is she able to make him react in this way?) and Dimitri hums pleasurably again. It elicits a small squeak from Byleth, a noise he never knew he could garner from her — it makes him wonder what else he may discover tonight.
Still, Dimitri isn’t so cruel as to deny her his own exposure. He pulls away, feeling his shirt tug upwards, detaching himself from her just enough to remove the article of clothing by pulling it over his head. Blond strands of hair go askew after he does, and he lets it drop over the side of the bed.
His skin, perhaps unsurprisingly, is heavily scarred by those five years of wandering. Some old and healed pale, some fresher and still a sheen to their texture. Sword cuts, the starburst of an arrowhead being torn out of his muscle. Places where lances had just missed vital parts of his body. A history written against his skin, and an ugly one, he would say, to match the scar plastered angrily across his eye.]
[she thinks it's good that dimitri sounds more confident — moves more confidently — as he removes his shirt and presents himself scarred and anything but, objectively, perfect. the years byleth had been asleep are traced on his skin, a thing she had never seen before until now. some of the scars are deeper than others, on his shoulder, on his chest, cutting onto his ribs. her hands cover all these ridges on his skin before she's sitting up on her knees and sitting right on his lap, feeling the generous pressure of his trousers against her underwear and sending new sparks of arousal through her.]
[swallowing thickly, she breathes out, a hand on his cheek and the other pushing down, between them, pressing into him.]
This— [softly, as she moves her hips, her hand a tight hold. she presses a kiss to his lips, raw and needy.] Do I do this to you?
[A sharp intake of breath as her hand travels down between his legs, interrupted by her kiss. He groans a little into her mouth, a far more embarrassing sound if he cared one whit — her touch is electric, and thus far it’s only a pressure against his arousal and a devious friction of her hips moving against him.]
Y-yes... [He manages, and without thinking, both hands move to her hips to press her closer.] You do. So easily.
[dimitri might not really consider what his actions do; the hold to her hips not only presses their sexes closer, but pulls byleth to press her breasts onto his chest. her hand relinquishes her hold on him in favor of resting over his shoulders, a smile at his efforts soon turning into nervous giggling, her expression mirthful despite how they are, effectively, fumbling about this.]
[it's playful when she tilts his chin up to look at her, a peck to his lips.]
[there's no reason for her to be anything but blunt.]
[Ah, well— despite the shared arousal between them, drawing her so close with her chest pressed against him is a little embarrassing in its overeagerness. (But still not something Dimitri would ever complain about.)
Seeing her smile, hearing Byleth’s laugh, is its own reward, though, so he doesn’t regret the fact that he’s fumbling through this. He loves the sound of it — just as he said and those years ago, that her smile was a brilliant and breathtaking thing. She catches his awkward chuckle with her lips.]
Maybe you’re right.
[Would it be easier? Who knows, really. But an arm goes around her middle again, and Dimitri lays on his side, taking her with him, a playful spark in his eyes. In a comment filled with self-awareness:]
[and off to their sides they go, their legs tangling in the process and byleth allowing her hands to rest over his face and chest. a smile is returned for his, her fingers touching skin as if to learn what contours his bones have allowed.]
We don't have to be. It's just us.
[she means that — past the titles that they both will have to bear and what they mean to their people, here, within these walls, it's just byleth and dimitri. scarred and helpless and young lovers learning the ropes together.]
[byleth pushes forward and kisses him, a simple gesture to try and bring back that feeling, of want and desire; a quiet prayer while one of her hands ease down his side, barely digging under the band of his pants, moving towards gathering momentum.]
[It won’t take much for that spark to ignite a second time, nor a third or a fourth if the circumstances require it. Byleth is addicting, and every kiss is a fresh hit to his system.
Legs entangled, Dimitri makes an effort to toe his boots off his legs with a small bit of effort. It’s a quiet invite for her hands to trail down as far as she desires, leaving no obstacle to discourage her, and his own pair linger just beneath her breasts, trailing up and over them.
He dips his head down lower, moving kisses with a hint of teeth along her neck and collarbone, murmuring—]
[the distraction to her neck and collarbone draw a pleased sigh from her, allowing herself open to the new stroke of confidence empowering dimitri's moves. she thinks his words over, but keeps quiet for now, hitching one of her legs up between his and pressing against his groin.]
[he's so idealistic.]
There will be more times like this to look forward to. [she mutters back, fumbling with the strings of his trousers, a hard task with just one hand.] It will make each time more special.
[now loose, she urges him to pull his trousers down, her hand grabbing at one of his arms and guiding him to do so.]
[That’s not fair, Byleth — when her leg hitches up to meet that spot between his own, he groans faintly, proof of how easily worked up he’s already gotten in her presence.
She’s tugging at his loosened pants, and it won’t take much to convince him to indulge her. He reaches down and pushes them away, clumsy in his motions as he removes his trousers outright, revealing his arousal — his cock, already fully hard and aching for stimulation.
As if that’s not answer enough. Lips still against her collarbone, he somehow manages—]
I cannot think of a better way to spend my night, Byleth.
[she agrees, naturally, but his response sends another set of shivers down to her loins, already slick from the careful bites and kisses and touches from dimitri. she pushes herself up on an elbow, detaching dimitri momentarily, as she sits up to process and analyze this new set of circumstances.]
[her hand rests over his navel, pushing him to lie on his back—]
[—and study... the angry-looking member that sits hard against him, twitching at the lack of stimulation. her expression is almost comedic as she intends to undertake this with the same kind of quality she would over strategies and battle plans.]
[this, in and of itself, is a kind of battle plan.]
[since that is meant to go in her, but surely there are considerations to... well, consider. byleth thinks she should have read up on this at some point before now, but hindsight is 20/20, and she'll just have to manage via trial and error. thankfully, dimitri is more than a wonderful subject for this kind of thing.]
[with little hesitation, she reaches forward with her hand and wraps her fingers against the blond's cock. it's warm in her palm, and she gives it a few, slow strokes.]
[it doesn't self-lubricate, which is good to know. that means that to ease things for the two of them, they may have to find something which makes movement easier. she really should have been more resourceful about this.]
[dimitri is forgotten, as she tugs at his member a few more times.]
[how annoying. she really should have tried to have planned this out a bit more.]
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finalflight2019-11-15 01:54 am
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Much of his overthinking, however, goes flying out of his mind when she completely closes that space and kisses him. There’s no time to question it, no time to ask what she expects from him tonight, only the heated press of her lips against his own.
He can’t help but lean into it — returning it with a fervor that echoes their first. Just like Dimitri cannot help the noise of satisfaction he makes from the back of his throat, an arm reaching out to loop around her waist.]
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[her face heats up, her hands on his neck and cheek, her kisses earnest and hungry. she breathes against his skin, slowly finding room beyond his collarbone to put her hands on. on his arms, as she pushes him back towards the bed.]
—sit.
[byleth commands, voice low, her eyes opening to meet his own heated gaze.]
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And pushing him back, sending his balance gently backwards and giving him no choice but to sit on the bed. The mattress jostles a little under his sudden weight.
His voice is a bit breathless.]
Byleth... [He meets her gaze, a smoldering thing. Dimitri feels like he is to await a command, not unlike on the battlefield— or rather, perhaps a little different.]
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[fumbling lightly with what to do next, she manages to appear to keep her cool and walk over to him and stand between his legs, her hands lifting to cup his face and rest just under his ears.]
...I don't know what I'm doing.
[better to admit this before they push anything too far with the expectation that one or the other would know what to work with.]
But I know that I want to do this with you. [she mutters, nodding. she isn't so ignorant or dumb as to what kind of things people like sylvain get up to.] Would it be okay?
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Because despite everything, he has to chuckle. Light, a twisted-up in wryness, but not without fondness.]
Of course. [Of course it would be okay. There is no one else that he would wish to learn how to share his adoration with.] I do not know what I am doing either, my love. You will find that you are in good company.
[He exhales, breathless and anticipatory.]
But I wish to learn. With you.
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[when byleth pulls away, byleth pushes him to scoot more onto the middle of the bed while she, too, takes a seat close to him — so close that she's pretty much sitting on his lap as she seeks for another kiss.]
[it's a slow one again; her cheeks flushed, eyes closed, a tentative hand pressing onto his side and sliding downwards until it rests at his hipbone.]
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She kisses him, and he seeks her lips with equal fervency, a hand leaning back into the mattress and unsure what to do with his other. Dimitri knows that he wants to feel her, though, as much as he can, that she should be as close as possible— so he reaches out behind her, looping his arm around and shifting her weight (easy to do with his strength) so she is in his lap, practically straddling him.
When he breaks that kiss again, looking up at her, his eye is searching and his cheeks are already so flushed. That headache from before? Fading, replaced by a different kind of pulse throughout his body.]
You can... [It seems that a little verbal communication will be necessary.] You can tell me what it is you want me to do. What you think you like.
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[sitting like this, on him, byleth is suddenly hyper-aware of the kind of intimacy they are mustering up the courage to fumble into. she hasn't really thought much about it—about what she thinks she would like, or what it is she would want her partner to do. her green eyes stare questioningly at dimitri's own, as if trying to communicate this very sentiment.]
[perhaps she should just tackle this like a strategy for battle.]
Do what you feel is right. [somewhat unhelpful...] Eventually, we'll have to remove our clothes, so... we could start there. [quickly, she offers:] You can touch me however you want.
Reach out confidently.
[she reaches out, as if in demonstration, putting her hands around his head and carefully pulling up the threads of the eyepatch up.]
I trust you. [she nods] What is mine is yours.
[this is more of a confidence boost than an actual map for what to do, but byleth is certain it will help out. her trust in dimitri basically speaks that they will meet each other halfway, were there anything they did or didn't want.]
[that is to say— it bears repeating—] Touch me however you want.
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None of this is necessity (though his body might be disagree later), but in the midst of an intimacy that remains foreign to him, Dimitri appreciates the advice to act confidently. To be given everything, and to expect the same in return.
He nods, even as she removes his eyepatch, revealing the scarring across his right eye and an iris gone a paler blue in its uselessness.]
It's… unflattering, I know.
[His eye, he means, believing it to be a particularly ugly feature. But Dimitri isn’t concerned about her seeing it so openly (trust, as she said), and his ease of sliding his hands beneath her shirt almost immediately is proof of that. His fingertips are calloused against her skin, his tough never one that knew delicacy, and they run up along her torso and sides, feeling planes of muscle that had all been hidden to him before.]
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[her coat falls from her shoulders in the same movement, and, needless to say, dimitri is met with byleth's bare chest.]
[scars mar her skin, her muscles on her biceps and torso tight; no one is perfect, and her skin can be just as unflattering as his own scar. her flush spreads from her face to her shoulders, but it doesn't deter her from taking hold of one of his hand to rest on her breast.]
You're perfect, Dimitri.
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Do what you feel is right, she had said, and all he can do is submit to his body’s instincts, his want for her that had been growing for some time now. Dimitri lets out a shuddering breath and cups her breast with his hand, rolling a calloused thumb over her nipple. His other lingers at her torso, tracing past long-healed scars, where the skin has gone paler than the rest. Scars earned together, in a way.]
I am not. [Ah, he cannot accept that kind of praise so easily. But for her—] But you are, beautiful in every way.
[He leans forward, knowing only that he wants to place his lips somewhere on her body, on these new and unexplored territories. They brush over her chest, and he tilts his head lower to place eager and sloppy kisses on her unattended breast, working his way slowly down to its center. His own body, meanwhile, feels like it’s been set aflame, a growing heat that can only be sated by her. By all of her, he’s starting to believe.]
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Dimitri...
[his lips and tongue feel warm against her breast, sending an electric sensation spiraling down, she light shift of her legs but a reaction to the sensation.]
[her hands hold onto his shoulders, tugging the cloak (bae) away. the heat between them is growing, and she wants to see dimitri bare before her, without any layers to keep himself separate from the rest. she tugs at his shirt, a small squeak escaping her as she clamps down her lips to keep herself from moaning out in pleasure at whatever goddess's work he is doing onto her.]
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When she moves her legs, only slightly, it’s still enough to present a small amount of friction to his groin (already he can feel the space in his trousers running too tight, Goddess, how is she able to make him react in this way?) and Dimitri hums pleasurably again. It elicits a small squeak from Byleth, a noise he never knew he could garner from her — it makes him wonder what else he may discover tonight.
Still, Dimitri isn’t so cruel as to deny her his own exposure. He pulls away, feeling his shirt tug upwards, detaching himself from her just enough to remove the article of clothing by pulling it over his head. Blond strands of hair go askew after he does, and he lets it drop over the side of the bed.
His skin, perhaps unsurprisingly, is heavily scarred by those five years of wandering. Some old and healed pale, some fresher and still a sheen to their texture. Sword cuts, the starburst of an arrowhead being torn out of his muscle. Places where lances had just missed vital parts of his body. A history written against his skin, and an ugly one, he would say, to match the scar plastered angrily across his eye.]
I would like for you to touch me, too.
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[swallowing thickly, she breathes out, a hand on his cheek and the other pushing down, between them, pressing into him.]
This— [softly, as she moves her hips, her hand a tight hold. she presses a kiss to his lips, raw and needy.] Do I do this to you?
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Y-yes... [He manages, and without thinking, both hands move to her hips to press her closer.] You do. So easily.
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[it's playful when she tilts his chin up to look at her, a peck to his lips.]
[there's no reason for her to be anything but blunt.]
Should we lie down? It might be easier that way.
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Seeing her smile, hearing Byleth’s laugh, is its own reward, though, so he doesn’t regret the fact that he’s fumbling through this. He loves the sound of it — just as he said and those years ago, that her smile was a brilliant and breathtaking thing. She catches his awkward chuckle with her lips.]
Maybe you’re right.
[Would it be easier? Who knows, really. But an arm goes around her middle again, and Dimitri lays on his side, taking her with him, a playful spark in his eyes. In a comment filled with self-awareness:]
We are not terribly elegant, are we.
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We don't have to be. It's just us.
[she means that — past the titles that they both will have to bear and what they mean to their people, here, within these walls, it's just byleth and dimitri. scarred and helpless and young lovers learning the ropes together.]
[byleth pushes forward and kisses him, a simple gesture to try and bring back that feeling, of want and desire; a quiet prayer while one of her hands ease down his side, barely digging under the band of his pants, moving towards gathering momentum.]
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Legs entangled, Dimitri makes an effort to toe his boots off his legs with a small bit of effort. It’s a quiet invite for her hands to trail down as far as she desires, leaving no obstacle to discourage her, and his own pair linger just beneath her breasts, trailing up and over them.
He dips his head down lower, moving kisses with a hint of teeth along her neck and collarbone, murmuring—]
Were it only like this forever.
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[he's so idealistic.]
There will be more times like this to look forward to. [she mutters back, fumbling with the strings of his trousers, a hard task with just one hand.] It will make each time more special.
[now loose, she urges him to pull his trousers down, her hand grabbing at one of his arms and guiding him to do so.]
Are you doing alright?
[propriety.....and all that]
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She’s tugging at his loosened pants, and it won’t take much to convince him to indulge her. He reaches down and pushes them away, clumsy in his motions as he removes his trousers outright, revealing his arousal — his cock, already fully hard and aching for stimulation.
As if that’s not answer enough. Lips still against her collarbone, he somehow manages—]
I cannot think of a better way to spend my night, Byleth.
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[her hand rests over his navel, pushing him to lie on his back—]
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[this, in and of itself, is a kind of battle plan.]
[since that is meant to go in her, but surely there are considerations to... well, consider. byleth thinks she should have read up on this at some point before now, but hindsight is 20/20, and she'll just have to manage via trial and error. thankfully, dimitri is more than a wonderful subject for this kind of thing.]
[with little hesitation, she reaches forward with her hand and wraps her fingers against the blond's cock. it's warm in her palm, and she gives it a few, slow strokes.]
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[it doesn't self-lubricate, which is good to know. that means that to ease things for the two of them, they may have to find something which makes movement easier. she really should have been more resourceful about this.]
[dimitri is forgotten, as she tugs at his member a few more times.]
[how annoying. she really should have tried to have planned this out a bit more.]
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I will use my spit.
[—...]
screams @ byleth
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