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As the month of the Verdant Rain Moon smiled down on Fódlan and Garreg Mach’s flora and cobbles, rays of sunshine ricocheted off of fat raindrops all along the stone right into Sylvain’s squinting eyes while he scowled down the between the classrooms and the dining hall. Compared to the tepid summers in cold Faerghus, the summer heat in Garreg Mach’s mountainous setting served no mercy. No one was around to see his fair features twist into a snarl, his eyebrows furrowed in dismay at the moisture in the air. The unrelenting heat along with the unbearable humidity that rolled in like steam from the sauna’s coals had Sylvain at his wit’s end. To make matters worse, the professor had sent him to tend to the horses with Ingrid, who did little but lecture him sternly about his womanizing ways. Whatever , he thought as he ruffled the hair plastered to the nape of his neck to un-stick the loose strands.
The dim dining hall provided refuge from the heat outside. Even while the sun was setting, she glowered at Sylvain like she could read his thoughts, parse through his sins, and deliver judgment on the spot. He closed the door quickly -- the sun really felt like it was no less than 7 inches away from the back of Sylvain’s head. He unclenched his jaw, un-furrowed his eyebrows, and untwisted his scowl until he felt his usual soft gaze and upturned lips return to his face. He flashed a cheeky smile at a table of blushing Black Eagle girls gracefully while he floated towards the head chef to get dinner. A warm dinner sounded less than pleasant while his clothes were starting to osmose into his skin from the sheer amount of sweat he had perspired but a meal sounded appetizing after his day of training and husbandry.
Training had been harder than usual. Sylvain knew his way around a lance and he was ever better as the weeks went on -- Professor Byleth’s lectures were more than satisfactory and his friendly competition with Ingrid on the battlefield meant that he was steadily improving. He was well on his way to being able to take and pass some of the intermediate exams, but Sylvain was just...distracted. Felix almost fileted him in the training room because Sylvain was so preoccupied with the wide expanse of porcelain skin visible at Felix’s neck, the ropes of muscle that climbed its way along it, the sweat that rolled down the curve of his collarbone. The urge to lean forward and lick that tempting drop overcame him. Felix had almost looked at surprised as he was, but Felix turned his sword so the flat side of it only knocked Sylvain unceremoniously onto his ass on the dusty ground. Terse as always, he said nothing, but Felix definitely could tell something was up. Sylvain’s mouth was so dry he could not even form a quick quip to diffuse the situation.
On another day, Sylvain practiced brawling with Dedue who had offered to train with him, saying something about how “only the disciplined and well trained can protect His Highness properly.” While they got in appropriate stances, Sylvain’s focus wandered to the Dedue’s broad, bare chest, Duscan complexion swarthy in the candlelight. Everything about Dedue was so imposing that Sylvain could hardly imagine beating him in a fight -- they grappled but Sylvain only moved on muscle memory, deep in his own thoughts and observations. Something seemed to crackle in his very core, like tinder before a large fire. Then, the back of his head was on the cool ground while Dedue folded him in a straight armbar, firm bicep against Sylvain’s half-hard dick in his training clothes. Dedue remained stoic and Sylvain knew he wouldn’t say anything, but embarrassment creeped into his cheeks while Dedue disengaged. Sylvain just laid on the ground with the realization that he may be attracted to men, alone in the training room, while the sun rose again over the monastery.
It wasn’t like the Church of Seiros disapproved of same-sex relations -- he was pretty sure a couple of the faculty members harbored attraction for the same sex themselves -- but he couldn’t imagine that he himself might be that way. House Gautier wasn’t too keen on homosexuals themselves and Sylvain couldn’t help but feel pity when he saw Linhardt’s tiny form yawn in the courtyard. His father might scoff and say, “My son is no faggot,” but Sylvain couldn’t deny that he was indeed laying in a training room with a boner because he thought Dedue’s chest and biceps forcing him into a submission position was exhilarating and arousing.
It also wasn’t as if Sylvain himself felt like his bisexuality was repulsive. He just didn’t see where it would go. He chased skirts because it was such an easy thing to do -- the expectations for him would never sneak up and strangle him if all he was expected to do was flirt with strangers and drink tea with giggling beauties. Sylvain liked women -- their lovely shapes and soft forms made his heart and body warm and comfortable. Men, on the other hand, seemed like anchors in Sylvain’s crashing world -- their trained bodies and their firm sensibilities brought Sylvain’s mind peace and body fire. Still, though, it seemed pointless to reflect on. Even some of the gay faculty members were already married and would provide heirs for their family name. He would be expected to do the same for House Gautier, but the thought made Sylvain’s stomach drop a bit. His stomach also growled.
He came to his senses again in the dining hall. Maybe the summer temperatures were getting to him -- his mind felt hazy and he tried to focus on his meal, which had gotten cold. All he craved was to go to sleep, so that the ocean’s waves might sweep him into the arctic depths back home in Faerghus in his dreams. He tasted nothing and drank plain water with his meal, alone. Felix also sat alone a few meters away, presumably because he didn’t want to sit near Dimitri, but he shot Sylvain a strange look while he slowly spooned more food into his mouth, as if Sylvain had metamorphosed right there at the table. Sylvain felt like some kind of wild beast, so it would have been no surprise if Felix had called him one, but Felix scooted down the table to sit opposite of Sylvain.
“You look terrible.”
Sylvain grinned sloppily. “You don’t pull your punches, do you, Felix?”
“Why would I? You could have died sparring the other day.”
Sylvain dropped his smile. “I know. Thanks for reacting in my stead.”
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Liar. Dedue said the same thing happened when you sparred.”
Fuck. “Dedue’s just…a tough opponent. I can excel with a lance but not with grappling.”
“Whatever. Come to terms with yourself however you need to, but don’t let it make you worse at fighting.”
As if his social battery died, Felix rose and left swiftly. Sylvain supposed that was Felix’s way of displaying concern and telling Sylvain he knows he likes men, and he appreciated it, but it only left him feeling somewhat inadequate.
Sylvain finished his meal but still tasted none of it, and ambled dazedly back in the direction of the dorms. He looked at the moon’s reflection in the water from the stairs overlooking the dock. The protrusion of the dock into the water seemed unnatural but also like something that simply belonged there, as if the Goddess toyed with humanity’s interests so as to erect something like a dock just for fun. The moon shone high in the shimmering sky and low in the inky black waters. Sylvain’s head spun in the duality, and he felt like a drunkard in the throes of night. He stumbled to the right to go into the dormitory hallway, but a cold hand came down on his shoulder.
“Sylvain, I’ve been looking for you.” Dimitri.
“Hey, Dimitri. Did you need something?” Sylvain slipped on his cheerful voice, though he probably looked like hell.
“I did. Do you mind if we chat for a bit in my room?”
“Sure, ok,” Sylvain agreed, but internally groaned. All he wanted to do was strip into his birthday suit and lay on his bed.
The two of them walked wordlessly into the dorms. Dimitri was probably expecting Sylvain to make idle conversation, but he really didn’t have it in him tonight. The cicadas chirping sounded like banshees screaming in his ears and the humidity felt like it was truly melting his brain after such a long day. Maybe they formed a balance -- if his brain melted, would it come out of his ears? Or would the pressure from the sounds around him keep his smooth brain in place? Could he still wield a lance? How did those cicadas get up into the monastery anyw-
“....vain? Sylvain!” Dimitri’s voice broke his spiral.
“Yes?”
“Are you alright? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. The heat is getting to me though,” Sylvain grinned and added a short laugh for good measure. Dimitri’s icy blue eyes bore into his soul like the sun seemed to earlier. Despite all of the layers he had on, he felt bare under Dimitri’s scrutiny, and his palms became clammy as if the sticky moisture from outside on his hands wasn’t already enough. He felt like he was naked, all his desires and impulses scrawled on his damp skin, all his shame laid out to be observed and manipulated. He was standing there in the hallway with Dimitri but he felt like he was sinking into the earth all at once, but he tried to keep that feeling off his face.
“Let’s talk inside, maybe,” Dimitry offered. Sylvain nodded earnestly.
Dimitri held the door open for him and closed it behind him when Sylvain was inside. Sylvain stood awkwardly in the middle of the room but settled on sitting on the chair backwards with his legs on either side of the back of the chair, hands holding the top of the chair casually. Dimitri sat properly on the bed with his legs just parted, cape discarded on the blanket. How Dimitri wore that thing all day in this weather was beyond Sylvain.
“I’ve been hearing from others that you’ve been having a hard time sparring.”
“I’ve been distracted, I suppose,” Sylvain laughed nervously.
“So I’ve been told.” Dimitri gave him a hard stare and Sylvain’s eyes traced the blond bangs that fell over his forehead. His pristine skin was matte and looked cool like marble. He put the statues of the saints to shame.
“Yeah, well, I’ll try not to do that.” Sylvain put his hands up in joking surrender but Dimitri did not falter.
“Sylvain, do you find men attractive?” Dimitri said it with such clarity and without hesitation. Sylvain put his hands down on his knees and looked straight at Dimitri, though his mind begged for him to look away. His eyes held Sylvain’s attention like a spell might while he stood up. Sylvain tore his gaze away to instead look at Dimitri’s boots. He looked purposefully down while Dimitri approached until Dimitri stood right in front of him and lifted Sylvain’s chin with one cool index finger, craning Sylvain’s neck up so he was looking at Dimitri again.
Sweat dripped from Sylvain’s forehead and something stirred in his core. Dimitri looked truly royal from this angle, with his golden locks framing his lovely face and his wide frame towering over Sylvain’s seated one. His hand rested under Sylvain’s chin but Sylvain felt like he could never touch Dimitri even if he tried, even though they grew up together, even though he was right in front of him. Dimitri leaned forward towards Sylvain watering eyes, his hot breath fanning over Sylvain’s wet face.
“Sylvain, I asked you something.”
“...Huh?”
“Do you like men?”
“I...don’t know. I think so.”
“You’re allowed to find anyone attractive, Sylvain.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Sylvain couldn’t answer -- his mouth went completely dry. Dimitri closed the distance between them and kissed Sylvain’s gaping lips, sliding his confident tongue along Sylvain’s salty lips. Sylvain felt frozen in place, bound by shock and pleasure. The tinder that crackled in his soul began to catch flame. Sylvain’s hands remained on the chair, knuckles white from his tight grip, but Dimitri’s hands came to Sylvain’s wrists. He raised his hands to his hair without moving away from Sylvain’s lips. Sylvain grasped desperately for purchase while Dimitri deepened the kiss, the heir apparent slipping his tongue into Sylvain’s mouth and running the tip of it along the roof, dragging it down to swirl around Sylvain’s limp tongue, drawing life back into his mouth as he began to salivate at the stimulation. Sylvain closed his lips to suck gently on Dimitri’s lower lip while Dimitri pushed Sylvain’s jacket off of him and started to work on the buttons of Sylvain’s shirt. The white cotton had soaked through completely and Dimitri was all but peeling the clothes off of him, to Sylvain’s slight embarrassment. Dimitri broke the kiss and Sylvain panted, feeling small seated and shirtless while Dimitri stood tall in front of him.
“Stand up and come over here, Sylvain.” He obeyed and stood up from the chair and swayed a bit. Dimitri stepped toward in a flash and put a hand on his damp waist. Sylvain grabbed onto Dimitri’s arm for support, but Dimitri used the opening to dive in for another heated kiss, less composed and delicate than the previous one. Teeth clashed while Dimitri spun Sylvain around and walked him backwards into the bed. Dimitri removed his overcoat and let it fall to the ground while Sylvain breathed heavily on the bed, cock beginning to harden against his trousers. Dimitri unbuttoned his own shirt and all but threw it aside as he bent forward to undo Sylvain’s pants. Sylvain’s hand twitched as if to reach and stop him, but he watched in awe as Dimitri deftly untied his pants and Sylvain instead extended himself toward, head resting on Dimitri’s shoulder while his hands blindly fumbled with Dimitri’s pants. Dimitri had already removed Sylvain’s pants by the time he chuckled lowly and tilted back to make eye contact with Sylvain while he guided his trembling hands to undo his belt and drop his pants. Sylvain blushed and said nothing.
“Sylvain, be clear with me. What do you want?”
“...I don’t know.”
“Then we can’t continue.” Sylvain’s body seemed to react to the idea of being left hanging.
“I...want to touch you.” His mouth seemed to operate separately from his mind.
“Then touch me.” The command held authority -- his shaking hands reached out to lightly touch Dimitri’s chiseled torso, delicately tracing the outline of his abdomen, down the side of his ribs and along the swathes of muscle that stretched across his body under his skin. He rolled forward to his knees and planted his other hand on the bed to support himself while he pressed a chaste kiss to Dimitri’s stomach. Dimitri brought his hand to cup Sylvain’s cheek.
“Honesty is a virtue, Sylvain. Tell me and yourself what you truly want.”
“Then, come here,” Sylvain beckoned. Dimitri climbed over Sylvain, who fell backwards, red hair splayed against the blue bedding. He rested his forearms next to Sylvain’s head so he could grab a handful of Sylvain’s hair and rest his forehead against Sylvain’s hot forehead. He smiled softly as Sylvain’s hips bucked forward for contact as their hard cocks touched. Dimitri lowered his hips to grind into Sylvain while Sylvain’s pupils blew out, the gears in his head turning as he explored pleasure he hadn’t considered before. Sylvain threw his arms around the back of Dimitri’s head and rolled his hips forward, folding a leg around Dimitri’s lower back. He sighed deeply as their chests touched and he turned his face to press his cheek against Dimitri’s. Dimitri’s bangs stuck to his forehead while he patiently waited to hear what Sylvain had to say. In the faintest voice, not a hesitant or meek but meaningful, Sylvain asked, “Dimitri, can you quell this heat?”
“Only if you promise to tell me if it’s too much.”
“I will,” Sylvain whispered.
“I mean it -- you need to be honest with me, now more than ever before.”
“I promise, just please do something,” he trembled.
Dimitri understood. He pulled away and took a vial of oil from his nightstand drawer. He poured some of it on his fingers and let some drip onto his hard cock. Sylvain watched with avid fascination -- the oil highlighted the veins that ran down the underside and gave the vibrant red color a healthy glow in the weak light. Dimitri used his dry hand to fold Sylvain’s leg so his cock came to rest against his stomach and his entrance was easier to reach. Then he turned to lean on his elbow and reached his oiled fingers around to brush against the tight ring of muscles. Sylvain looked up at Dimitri with mild wonder and Dimitri looked down at him with composure in his face and warmth in his eyes. He slipped his index finger, in and Sylvain squirmed a bit but his face displayed only awe. Dimitri continued to search for signs of discomfort or displeasure -- Sylvain recognized the expression on his face.
“This feels nice,” Sylvain confirmed, and Dimitri smiled in recognition. He added another finger, twisting his finger as he thrust in slowly in and out, inching deeper until he was to his knuckle. Sylvain gasped slightly when Dimitri brushed over a specific bundle of nerves -- he recognized what he did and Dimitri pushed toward intently until Sylvain’s vision went white. His cock leaked against his pale belly and his back arched gracefully off the bed. Dimitri eased in a third finger, curling his fingers so as to stretch Sylvain out a bit. He slipped his fingers out and stroked himself, and Sylvain watched his fingers wrap around his own cock with a blissed out look.
“Are you going to…”
“Do you want me to?” Dimitri asked sharply.
“Yes,” Sylvain stated resolutely, with a clear voice even with his eyes out of focus and hair in disarray. He looked like the image of pleasure and satisfaction.
“Try to relax,” Dimitri eased Sylvain’s legs wider open and lined himself up with Sylvain’s slicked opening. He pressed the tip against him and Sylvain seemed to register that the experience would be new and possibly unpleasant. Sylvain brought his hands up to touch Dimitri’s face, to pull him closer and rest his forehead against his again. Dimitri pushed forward, stretching his hole further while he got the tip in. Sylvain sighed to try to relax himself, but the stretch was a bit intense. If he wasn’t already sweating, he might have begun to in that moment. Dimitri continued to inch forward, slowly and with his eyes screwed shut in focus. Sylvain slid his hands down to grasp at Dimitri’s back, hands slipping and scratching at his sweat-slick skin.
“Tell me when to move. I know it takes a white to adj-”
“Good Goddess, please move now,” Sylvain exhaled.
“Are you certain? You need to-”
“Dimitri, I’m telling you what I want,” Sylvain huffed, rolling his hips to punctuate. Dimitri began to thrust forward, drawing himself nearly all the way out before snapping his hips completely forward. Sylvain nearly screamed, muffled only by Dimitri smashing his lips against Sylvain’s parted ones. Their tongues wrestled for dominance while Sylvain’s legs crept around Dimitri’s waist to pull him in closer. He rolled his hips, cock dragging languidly against Sylvain’s walls. He pressed sloppy, open-mouth kisses down Sylvain’s slack jaw and down his neck onto his chest, running his tongue in a circle around a pert nipple and kissing his way back up. He tugged at Sylvain’s hair to get his attention and Sylvain’s eyes rolled back. Dimitri spoke directly into his ear.
“You look good like this, Sylvain. For someone so spirited and carefree, you are quite submissive.”
“For you, I suppose,” Sylvain drawled.
Dimitri slammed forward, hitting that same spot as before. This time, Sylvain moaned loudly without constraint, panting heavily as Dimitri continued to drive into that same spot. His cock weeped with pre-cum, which begin to pool along with all their mixed sweat against his torso. Dimitri brought a hand down to Sylvain’s cock as if he had forgotten about it.
“I’m close and I’d like us to finish together.”
“Hah, sounds good,” Sylvain slurred.
Dimitri brushed his finger against the spot under the head of Sylvain’s hard cock and began to stroke with purpose, in rhythm with his own thrusts. Sylvain was seeing stars, his mind throwing caution to the wind. He felt a familiar coil deep within his lower body, carnal pleasure accumulating. Dimitri’s hips stuttered and Sylvain began to scratch red divets into his back. As if by surprise, Sylvain came in between their bodies, painting both of their chests with his seed. Dimitri slumped forward, hips stopping altogether as he spilled into Sylvain, garbled praises poured from his mouth.
Dimitri rolled off of Sylvain, settling into the small bed with little space. Going to the baths wasn’t going to be an option but it wasn’t on either of their minds. They fell asleep as they were. It wasn’t until later that they woke up and cleaned up in the dead of night, well before dawn, and settled into their own rooms amiably.
While Sylvain was back to his normal self by morning, Felix was considerably more irritated, shooting Sylvain a pointed look while telling Mercedes about how “strange noises” kept him awake. Sylvain only smirked in response.