a lion among ladies

[backstreetbard]

[ Dorothea doesn't exactly love spending time in the cathedral of Garreg Mach's campus, as stunning as the stained glass windows and flying buttresses are to behold. She hasn't put stock in the Seirosi faith since she was six years old.

In spite of that, she can still be seen there often in the days following the mission to quell the Western Church's rebellion in Gaspard territory, her hand rubbing circles in Ashe's back. She understands what it feels like to lose a parent, though she doesn't speak of it; instead, she only listens as he very gradually works his way through the shock and pain. Sometimes the only comfort is commiseration.

It's draining, though. She has to step back eventually, to try and shake off the old familiar feelings that watching another orphan in mourning dredges up in her.

Standing on the bridge that leads to the cathedral, she inhales the fresh mountain air and releases a sigh as she looks out over the scenery. A flash of blue in her peripheral vision catches her attention, though, and she's back on stage, turning to face her new house leader. ]

On your way to pray?

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[backstreetbard]

It's the last request she would have expected him to make of her, but she can't deny him anything he asks for in that tone of voice especially. It makes her whole body shiver in his arms.

"Please."

Dorothea hardly even waits for him to be the one to close the gap between them, pulling herself closer until their hungry mouths meet. She still tries to be good, letting their kiss remain (relatively) chaste until she feels his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. She moans softly as the last shreds of restraint she'd been maintaining slip away in favor of wrapping her arms around him. Her leg hikes up to drape over his thigh, not as suggestive as if she'd settled around his waist, but the message is clear: she wants him so badly that she can hardly stand it.

[hauntedking]

No more words for now. As soon as their lips meet, he groans against her lips and he's lost in her. It's hungry and needy and wanting as their bodies press together and her leg hikes against his thigh. He presses closer still, one hand against the small of her back and his own thigh pressing between her legs. It only takes him a moment to roll her onto her back and to slide on top of her, a hand braced alongside her to hold himself up-right as he leans down to continue the kiss.

Any thought of stopping has been banished by the sheer need that seems to be burning through his veins. All he think about is being closer; as close as possible until there's no space left between them, until there's no spot where he ends and she begins.

It helps that he's managed to work a knee between her legs as well.

[backstreetbard]

She might have suggested restraint, might have suggested they keep their clothes on as they'd done before, but her body is burning and even the thin nightgown she's wearing feels like too much. She's practically drowning in it, not just because of the heat from her own body but from his as well. Dimitri is like a furnace, but the warmth radiating from him makes it almost unbearable.

With trembling fingers, Dorothea tugs at the lace that holds the front of her gown together, and the bow comes undone with a soft hiss, falling open like the petals of a flower to reveal her pale skin.

[hauntedking]

Restraint has gone entirely by the wayside at this point, even for Dimitri. Whatever misgivings he might have had are now stripped away by the torrent of sheer need and arousal that goes tearing through and over him. He's breathing heavily, mouth feeling dry as she tugs open the front of her gown. The glimpse of that pale curve of her breasts makes his cock throb and the heat in his belly flare and he groans aloud.

"Dorothea..." He keeps his voice to a whisper, but it's obvious just how much want is in his tone all the same. He lifts a hand, hesitates, and then cups one of her breasts. He's trembling slightly, his touch almost too gentle as he rolls it against his hand, marveling at the heat and the feeling of her soft skin.

[backstreetbard]

Oh Goddess. The way he groans just at the sight of her skin is enough to make her squirm, to press her thighs together in the hope of creating a little friction. Compared to what he has to offer, it just isn't enough.

"Dima." Reaching up, she touches his face gently, combing through his hair with her fingers until she can cup the back of his head and pull him down. She isn't pulling his face to hers, though, but rather directing him down until his lips are a hair's breadth from the valley between her breasts. "Won't you kiss me, my darling?"

[hauntedking]

Dimitri's eyes go wide as she tugs his head down and then he very happily does as he's asked, his lips brushing against the skin of her chest, trailing a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses between her breasts. They start slow and then begin to come faster as he gains confidence and his arousal begins to crowd out other concerns. Then his lips slide to one side and he takes a nipple gently between his teeth, tongue lashing against the hardened little peak of flesh.

He's listening for another command; for a sound of pleasure. Anything to tell him he's on the right track.

[backstreetbard]

Instead of a command, she gives him first a sigh, then a whimper, then a soft moan. Her back arches, pressing herself up against him, wanting more contact. The moonlight filtering in through her window rings him in pale white, and she's certain he's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

She says his name again, a plea as much as anything. His body above her, arms braced to her sides, makes her feel so safe and loved, but the heat burning in her belly demands even more.

Running her hands over the planes of his back, she brings her knees up to make room for him to get even closer. It makes sense, too, to tug up the hem of his shirt so he's in the same state of undress as she.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri doesn't need to be told or asked again. As she tried to get his shirt off, he sat up and tugged it over his head in a rush. He might look a bit slender when he's wearing the uniform, but underneath it there's quite a bit of well-developed muscle from training and sparring. He took a moment to draw a breath, looking down at her in the pale light of the moon. She's beautiful and he said so - a low whisper meant only for her ears - and then he bent over her again to press a hungry, needy kiss against her lips.

Things were running away from him.

His hand found her breast again and squeezed, fingers toying with her nipple. Admittedly, he was a bit clumsy, but he wanted to try and make her feel good. He also settled between her legs, the ache and hardness of his arousal pressed against one of her thighs through the fabric of his trousers. The thought of being even closer to her - of being totally bare - was maddening.

"Can I - can we be even closer?"

Not exactly direct, but he wasn't skilled at the whole dirty talk thing.

[backstreetbard]

It's safe to say that they're both equally infatuated with each other, equally in awe of the other's beauty. Dorothea runs her fingers over the taut muscle of Dimitri's abdomen as he lowers himself to kiss her. His needy touches and hungry kisses are enough to drive her to distraction, but the hard length of him against her thigh is almost too much to handle.

"Yes," she says, responding to his question by reaching between them to impatiently undo the laces of his trousers, gasping softly when she succeeds and his cock springs free into her waiting hands. Oh. Oh, Goddess. He's so big. It doesn't intimidate her, though, but only serves to excite her in anticipation of the way he'll feel.

"I want you inside me, Dima."

[hauntedking]

"I - I want that, too," Dimitri admitted, voice low. He shudders as her hands free him and he sits up again - although this time it's to try and tear his trousers off. There's a bit of shuffling before he can free himself from them and then he's over her again, hands hiking up her nightgown so he can see more of her. There's a hand - gentle, careful - between her legs feeling for her sex and trying to see just how ready she is. Everything is accelerating now, moving faster and faster, and Dimitri can't bring himself to stop.

"I love you," he continues, "I love you, I love you-"

[backstreetbard]

In spite of her thin undergarments, it's plainly obvious how aroused she is--so much so that her wetness has soaked through the fabric. Dorothea lifts her hips to let the panties slide down her thighs and then tosses them onto the floor, but Dimitri is on her too quickly for her nightgown to come off and join the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her skin is flushed, damp with sweat in a room that feels like it's getting hotter and hotter every moment. Her gown is hiked up to her ribs, pooling around her on the bed. Dimitri loves her, and he wants her, and everything is going to be all right.

"I love you," she responds in kind, pulling him down against her and using a soft hand to guide him into position. "Go slowly at first, all right?"

[hauntedking]

The room feels far too closed in for them, but he can't bring himself to care much. Not when she's in front of him and he has a chance to watch her simply slide her underwear straight off, exposing herself to him completely. He stammers for a moment, trying to find the right words. They don't come easily, perhaps because his brain is short-circuiting a little. So instead he bends over her, nestling his thighs underneath her own and trying to angle her hips up to meet him. The hard, curved line of his cock slides against an inner thigh and then the slickened tip drags against the wet heat between her legs and he has to hold in a groan.

She's so close. All he has to do is angle his hips and slide home, he knows it. Another part of him is also dimly aware that he should be using some kind of protection here, but he's also far too lost in his own lust to want to stop. Not when the slickness of her feels so good against him. He bites back another moan and then - then he finally does start to roll his hips against her, the tip slowly spreading her open and then slipping inside of her. He trembles as he moves, going as slowly as he dares, feeling how she envelops him.

"Dorothea..."

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea's hands fist into the blankets on either side of her and she bites her lip to hold in the sound she makes when he pushes his hips forward. It's a stretch, but not a painful one--she gives way to him until he's buried to the hilt.

"Dimitri!"

It's a bit of a strangled whisper--Dorothea is well aware that the entire student body (and some of the faculty) could be alerted to their nocturnal activities if she loses control of her volume. She wishes she could, though. She would shout his name loud enough for the Goddess to hear from the Blue Sea Star if she could, because only divine intervention could move someone like him to love her the way he does.

Stillness falls in the room for a moment as she catches her breath, allowing her to acclimate to the feeling of him. After a few seconds, she grinds up against him, urging him to move.

[hauntedking]

Dimitri doesn't have words; not right now, anyway. He's lost in her, breath gasping free of him as he tries to hold himself in check. It's hard though. Incredibly hard. She is warm and wet and she is so close. He can feel himself threatening to unravel with just this. But he stills and waits for her, face buried in against her throat so he can kiss her skin and mute his own ragged breathing. And it's only when she grinds against him (and he shudders) that he begins to move. It's stuttering and slow as he tries to keep himself controlled, but it's so hard when every motion in and out threatens to overwhelm him. It's perfect in so many different ways. The bed creaks under them as he begins to find a rhythm and he chases that high; that pleasure.

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea loses track of time completely once Dimitri really sets a rhythm for them. Nothing exists but their bodies, this primal dance as old as nature itself. The church would condemn them for this, surely, but Dorothea could never accept that what they're doing is wrong--not when they love each other so much.

Each thrust sends sparks up her spine, every kiss makes her skin burn with pleasure. This isn't her first time, but it feels different than any time she's ever done it before. Is that the difference that love makes?

Her legs wrap around his waist, muscles drawing taut in a way that digs her heels into the small of his back. She's let go of the blanket to hold onto him instead, her nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

[hauntedking]

It is Dimitri's first time, however. So the pleasure feels incredible to him; so much different from the furtive self-pleasure he's taken before. Every part of him feels electric. He wants to touch her as much as he can. He wants to be as close as he can. He kisses her again and then again. He's burning up and all he wants to do is go faster and faster still.

He should think about consequences.

He doesn't.

"Dorothea-" Her name emerges as a hoarse cry, muffled by his face being buried against her shoulder and he drives as deep as he can and he's overwhelmed by pleasure. There's a long, low moan, shuddering as he fills her.

[backstreetbard]

Dimitri climaxes before she does, but she follows on his heels; the way he holds and kisses her, the heat of him spilling himself in her, how the base of his cock hits her at just the right angle when he bears down on her, his heartbeat thundering inside and around her--it washes over her in shivering waves. The sound of her voice is held back by a hand pressed to her mouth, but the sound gives way to soft panting as she catches her breath.

She holds him tight even in the afterglow, but her grip goes slack as she relaxes. In the back of her mind she knows that the morning will be tricky. For now, she just traces soft little patterns on his back with her fingertips.

"I love you, Dima. Thank you for... sharing yourself with me. It feels so special."

[hauntedking]

Dimitri isn't thinking about the morning; he's lost in the moment, feeling as if he's floating along iwth her. He wraps his arms around her and plants another kiss, feeling drained and content and warm.

"I love you, too, Dorothea. Words... can't describe it," He murmurs, "This... this was so good."

[backstreetbard]

"It was. It was wonderful." She falls silent for a moment before moving to lift his chin so their eyes meet. Her voice is soft and full of emotion.

"I'm yours, now and forever--body, heart, and soul. I don't care that you're a prince, or that you have a crest. The way you've treated me since we've been together... you make me feel like I... I'm a worthwhile person. You don't know what that means to me." Dorothea has to pause for a moment to blink away welling tears, though one does streak down her face. She kisses him again.

"Every day when I wake up, you're the first thing I think about, and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. You're the world to me, Dima."

[hauntedking]

Dimitri is feeling emotional himself. It's a complicated bundle of excitement, happiness, relief, and a bit of dread. Anxiety about the future. He pushes that aside to kiss her again and murmur a reply.

"From this day on, I don't want there to be a day where you're not in my life Dorothea. And I will make sure of it - that I promise you."

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea nods, her smile radiant. This is everything she's ever wanted but never dared hope for.

"I can't wait for my future with you, my love." She kisses him back yet again, then urges him to roll over so she can curl up on his chest. They're both sticky with sweat, and her room smells like sex, but she's too tired and warm to care. Maybe now they can finally get some sleep.

[hauntedking]

"Neither can I," he replies, voice low. He knows he'll need to get up and leave at some point, but right now he doesn't want to. So instead he just settles in a little closer and wraps himself around her, as if by holding her close her can push back against the coming dawn.

[backstreetbard]

She dozes for a while before waking them both before the sun even starts to turn the sky a pre-dawn pink. They both have to wash up, and she swaps out her sheets before heading to the infirmary.

She's there on time when class starts, though there's a pinched affect in her smile. She doesn't complain, just slides into the seat next to his with a posture that dares anyone to tell her she doesn't belong there.

And so the month passes: Dimitri joins Dorothea in her bed more and more often, learning each other'sbodies in more and more intimate ways, and every morning she drinks a tea to prevent them from continuing the Blaiddyd bloodline just yet. Her birthday comes and goes, and even though Byleth invites her to a quiet tea time, she doesn't tell anyone else--it seems gauche to celebrate when Flayn is still missing.

The fight in the catacombs below the monastery is an especially vicious one. Dorothea knows her limits, but she would kill Jeritza for laying hands on Manuela if she could. Flayn is recovered alive, much to most everyone's pleased surprise, along with another student Dorothea had never seen before. It seemed she'd been a student who was believed to have run away the previous year.

The arrival of the Wyvern Moon is celebrated with a fishing tournament to help cheer Flayn up after her ordeal, but Dorothea doesn't partake--she actually hates fish, she informs Dimitri as they stand at the far end of the pond, close to the greenhouse.

Of course, the highlight of the month is the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, won handily by the Blue Lion class with Byleth leading the way. Dorothea manages to pull Dimitri away for a private celebration of their own once all their classmates are busy enough with food and drinks that they might not be terribly missed.

The peace doesn't last long, unfortunately.

With the Red Wolf Moon comes disaster--rumors of illness in Remire Village, or even dark magic causing the people to run amok. It's a disturbing scene of smoke and fire and bloodshed, made that much worse when Dorothea sees the look in Dimitri's eyes as he takes in the scene. She grabs his wrist and squeezes tight.

"Stay with me, Dima."

[hauntedking]

Dimitri loses himself with Dorothea over the next few months. It's intense and intimate everything he wants. He lovers her, dearly, and despite the guilt that still tugs at him for indulging as he does, he cannot find it in himself to think that this is wrong. Not when it makes him - and her - so very happy. And especially when it provides a distraction from everything else. Even when his ghosts begin to whisper again and there's more fighting. More blood. Things start to get out of control and he can feel himself slipping, bit by bit, as everything starts to fall apart.

But she's there. They have one another.

Remire Village awakens something dark in him; something he'd buried from Duscur. He can feel anger starting to bubble up. Horror. A desire to do something to stop this, to punish the people responsible. He's not even aware that he's clenching his jaw. Then Dorothea touches his wrist and he turns on her with a low noise - something angry.

"This cannot be allowed to continue-!"

[backstreetbard]

"No, it can't," she agrees, shrinking back just a step when he rounds on her, "but you won't be able to help anyone if you lose control of yourself."

She can't deny that he's frightening her a little with that dark look in his eyes. She knows he's been struggling, and she's done her best to comfort him, but she's never seen him look as haunted as he does now.

There isn't time to talk more, though--Captain Jeralt starts barking out orders and the Professor leaps into action, dividing the class into groups to best tackle the chaos around them: cavaliers and lancers in the front to cut through the infected individuals in the hopes of reaching those still left to be saved, mages and healers in the back, and armored units to guard them from harm. It's a rescue mission, ultimately, but in the midst of the fighting appears the... librarian?

Except he isn't the librarian at all. Just what on earth is going on here?