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He sits on one of the small desks, in this so-called classroom, one leg crossed over the other and dangling free. Hunched over, his elbow rests on his knee, and his chin is propped up against his knuckled fist. His free hand moves over the letters someone had carved into the wood. Perched from where he is, just behind him, to his left, Yuri is easily able to follow the chalk in Byleth’s hand. It’s actually somewhat impressive how he always manages to write completely straight, undeterred by the lack of guiding lines on the board. His script is neat and flowing, easily legible. There’s a mesmerizing quality to each deliberate stroke, the way his letters come together. Byleth pauses, and the chalk does as well, hovering mere millimeters away from the board.
He looks to the left, slightly, at the book open in his other hand. Yuri’s eyes move from the words to the profile of Byleth’s face; pale green hair falling over brighter green eyes. His gaze moves to the round neckline of the tan short sleeve shirt, billowed and overlarge, tucked into tight, dark, high-waisted trousers. It’s rather a treat. One could be forgiven for not noticing exactly how much leg Byleth is. His usual uniform does him no favors. His frame is not without width, but it’s a natural and easy strength. His wrists are slender and gorgeous, and there’s a small birthmark on his collarbone. All these things that hardly anyone gets to see, but here he stands. Of all places, in Abyss, preparing the morning lesson for the children.
And there, Yuri sits, and studies him.
“You’re down here so often, someone might get the impression that you actually love Abyss,” Yuri says, jaw pushing against his fist with each word. Byleth’s eyes immediately move from the page, to him, and he closes the book, slides it onto the desk closest to him. He steps out of Yuri’s way, so he can see the entirety of the board. As he writes, flecks of chalk fall steadily downward, worn down by Byleth’s writing.
I do love Abyss. He writes it as neatly as all the rest, and underlines do. Then, he steps back, looks at Yuri, and taps the chalk against the board to ensure he reads it. Yuri tilts his head slightly, and smiles acknowledgement.
“Or maybe you’re coming here for a different reason?” Easily, Yuri slips from his perch. He walks forward towards him, and plucks the chalk from his grasp. He begins to turn it over and over again, pinched between his finger and his thumb, as he looks up at Byleth. Still turning the chalk, he raises his hand to touch the knuckle of his index finger against his bottom lip. “Perhaps it’s not teaching, or Abyss that you love. Maybe you love me instead?” Byleth, ever silent, simply blinks at his question.
If he weren’t so close, he might never have seen it. That barely perceivable knot between Byleth’s brows, hidden behind choppy cut bangs. Without realizing, Yuri holds his breath, as though the very act of it might drown out the sound of Byleth’s words. Instead, Byleth steals the chalk back from him. Yuri bites back the sigh of disappointment, and as he watches the first stroke, some strange fear seizes him. His hand shoots out faster than he means it to, wrapping around Byleth’s wrist, stopping him. “I changed my mind. That’s not a question I think I want answered right now,” he says, that perfectly acted smile still gracing his lips.
Yuri pulls Byleth’s hand towards him, and sets the chalk aside. He turns their hands so that, and keeps hold of his wrist. With his other hand, he lets lazy fingertips drift touch over the intersecting lines of Byleth’s palm. “I think half the reason the kids come to your lessons, and pay attention as well as you do, is that they’re waiting to hear you speak,” he says. His gaze flicks from his palm to his face, and Yuri looks at him through dark lashes, his own lavender locks a nuisance at his temple. It’s impossible to tell what he might be thinking, impossible to tell what he wants.
It’s easier than he expected. Yuri swipes a leg out from under him, turns Byleth’s hand, his arm. Still holding his arm, he pushes him over a desk. “No? Nothing yet?” Byleth, bent over the desk, wisps of hair swirling around his head, looks at him over his shoulder, and shrugs. Yuri looks left and right, spots a coil of rope within reaching distance. One of the perks of Abyss: everything’s a scrapheap. Keeping Byleth pinned, although he isn’t exactly fighting, Yuri ties his hands together behind his back. Around and around his wrists, not loose but not so tight that it hurts him. Just enough to leave a mark if he struggles. Standing on his toes, Yuri puts a hand on the flat of Byleth’s back, and leans over to whisper by his ear. “I’ll let you go if you tell me something nice.”
Byleth straightens up and stands with surprising ease, so much so that Yuri takes a few steps back. Byleth follows, keeps the distance between them minimal, until the back of Yuri’s thighs bump against a desk. Stiff but for a moment, he lets his shoulders fall as he eases himself to lean against the desk, his fingers curling around the edges of it. He smirks up at him. “Are you trying to frighten me into letting you go?” Byleth shakes his head. “Then? You know the terms,” he says. Yuri’s eyes widen as Byleth leans forward, down slightly, and he thinks his lips might be heading for his – until they move past him, by his ear.
The seconds seem to drag into hours as Byleth draws near. Yuri can hear the steady sound of his breathing, feel the very life of him. His breath hitches when he hears Byleth lick his lips, take a heavy inhale. He expects words. Byleth’s tongue flicks out, finds skin, teeth biting gently against his lobe. A harder bite, a slight tug. A softer nibble once again. Another flick of his tongue, and he traces his way back up the shell of his ear. A cool exhale and it’s enough for gooseflesh to appear, the hairs on his arms rising. One of Yuri’s hands moves from the desk to rest against Byleth’s chest, and this time when Byleth moves, his lips find their proper partner.
They both seek the upper hand here. Yuri drags his tongue against Byleth’s lips as he wraps his fist in his shirt. He pulls his bottom lip between his own teeth, forces Byleth to open his mouth to him. Byleth is forceful in return, savoring the sweetness of Yuri’s lipstick. He pushes it further, wedges a leg between Yuri’s. He places a small amount of pressure against him with his thigh as he ensures there’s hardly any space between them. Yuri’s kept his eyes closed, but opens them now, finds Byleth already looking at him. There’s an unexpected hunger in his eyes, so much so that a small tremor runs down Yuri’s spine.
“What a shame you’re all tied up,” Yuri says breathlessly, between kisses, “I wouldn’t mind being touched right now.” The only acknowledgement is Byleth’s tongue in his mouth, sucking at his lip. That leg presses harder, rubs against him slightly. His head turns, their noses bump against each other as they re-adjust, and there’s an insistence to the way Byleth’s tongue moves. As though it isn’t enough. Hazy, Yuri looks at Byleth, watches him through half-lidded eyes. His hand moves to his shoulder as Byleth’s kiss slips to the edge of his mouth, to his cheek, back to his ear.
“I don’t need my hands for that,” Byleth says, “Yuri-bird.” Yuri’s eyes widen, his face immediately flushing a deep shade of red, a full body shiver running through him. His mouth is right by his ear. His voice is low, hoarse, unused. Deep, whispered, barely audible and yet the words ring and echo inside of Yuri. Byleth’s eyes never leave his as he goes to his knees, looks up at Yuri, hands still tied behind his back. His nose finds the edge of Yuri’s tunic, moves it up, until he finds the soft flesh of his belly. He licks just below his navel, at the soft wisps of hair which he follows downwards.
Yuri’s hands once again wrap around the edge of the desk, fingertips pressing hard against the wood enough that his knuckles turn white. Byleth is still looking up at him, making sure he’s watching. His teeth tug against the edge of his trousers, his tongue pressing against the button until it pops free. Still biting at the lip of his trousers, he pulls them back, down, and then moves forward once again. Byleth breathes against the cotton of his undergarments, against where Yuri’s cock strains. He had been half hard while they were kissing, but the sound of his voice made him instantly stiffen, ready, wanting just as much as Byleth.
Yuri resists the urge to shift his hips forward as Byleth presses his face against his cock. He drags his tongue along the fabric, against him, sucking slightly at the tip. Then he’s moving again, up, to the hem of his undergarments. The flash of teeth, dragging them downwards, over his cock, until it’s finally freed. Byleth leans back where he kneels, looking at it, up at him, and opens his mouth. His tongue is resting against his bottom lip, and that’s what finds him first. Yuri groans at that first lick against the underside of his cock, all the way from base to tip. At the head of him, Byleth swallows him whole.
Yuri’s unable to stop the guttural groan from escaping him. His carefully positioned posture breaks so that he leans over Byleth, one hand now grasping at the back of his head. His hand fumbles until he finds a fistful of Byleth’s hair. Byleth’s nose once again presses against that space underneath his naval, the sound of him sucking at his cock vulgar and satisfying. It’s not that he hasn’t been fucked before, or that he hasn’t fucked, but when it’s with him, it’s different. Everything feels brighter, closer, the whole of his body prickling with pleasure.
Byleth begins to move his head back and forth, his cheeks hollow, and his tongue never once settling. He presses pressure against the sensitive spot at the underside of his head, then swirls around him. Byleth savors that first taste of sweetness, salty stickiness which begins to leak freely from his cock. Yuri’s hand squeezes in his hair, the other coming to rest at his shoulder. His face is flushed a deep red, his mouth open and panting, eyes wet as though on the brink of tears. Yuri’s unable to stop his hips from rocking, from meeting him, from fucking into his mouth.
Yuri nearly falters when he feels a touch at the v-line of his hip. Byleth’s thumb runs over the curve of it, his other hand moving up his leg. The rope lies undone over his legs. That hand on his hip is a bruising touch, moving upwards, underneath his shirt. It rises steadily over the curve of him, back down again. “By-” He’s barely able to open his eyes, barely able to focus enough to get the words out, “Byleth, I’m going to come–” Byleth moves his head back, the length of him moving from his throat, until his lips kiss the tip of his cock.
He catches Yuri’s eyes, keeps his gaze. “Please do,” he says, in a voice so low Yuri’s barely able to hear him, “I won’t spill a drop,” but hear him he does. His cock twitches at the sound of his words, until Byleth is wrapping his tongue around his head, taking him deep once again. Byleth holds him steady, one hand at the back of his thigh, and the other arm around his waist. He takes him in completely, nose brushing against belly, breath warm against skin. Yuri’s hands tighten in Byleth’s hair as he unravels, spills himself, feeling the contractions of Byleth’s throat as he swallows all he has to offer without hesitation.
Yuri’s legs half wobble, the entirety of his body dizzy with realized desire. The flush sits deep in his cheeks, flourishes at the back of his neck. He watches as Byleth swipes at the side of his mouth, then leans forward once again. His shirt is still lifted, his trousers still open and undergarments lowered. At the spot where his legs meet his hips, where soft lilac curls end, Byleth kisses smooth flesh. Then, he seals his mouth against him, sucks slightly. He comes away with a pop, leaves a love mark. Before he stands, Byleth rights his undergarments, and does the button up on his trousers.
The shirt however, he leaves. Greedy, slipping touch underneath it, fingertips finding the prickles of sweat on Yuri’s back. He leans down some to touch his forehead against Yuri’s, biting his bottom lip as he does. What a change in him. From that, to this, and if Byleth had a tail, Yuri is sure it would be wagging right now. A good boy, begging to be praised. Yuri reaches up, a hand against his cheek. Byleth closes his eyes, leans into the touch. “You are something else, you know that?” Yuri says, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. He watches Byleth’s eyes slowly open again, a certain softness in the green. He feels his heart skip a beat as the smile spreads warm across Byleth’s face.