❧ oh but you taste exquisite

[reposing]

[The Adrestian Empire's victory seems to be looming on the horizon. There will still be losses on both sides inevitably, but the tide of the war appears to be obvious to most. Yet, there is that lingering concern of whoever is slaughtering their troops out in Faerghus. Not simply killing, but maiming out of pleasure, leaving a bloodstained battlefield.

And so it is that the latest small army is investigating out by House Rowe's territory from the latest encounter.

This time, they arrive with a man in tow, a thick metal collar around his throat and arms bound in chains. He's led along as if he were an animal to be paraded around.

C'mon. Sniff him out.

A deep, beastly growl escapes the man, but he tips his chin up, sniffing the air.]

Comments

[distaster]

[He had thought, truly and earnestly, that arousal was beyond him now. In a war-torn world without Byleth, haunted by ghosts and reeking of filth and corpses, pleasure had become something relegated only to distant memories with no place in his bloodsoaked world. Killing had become the closest thing he felt to it; the pounding lust and boiling arousal were the same, but always only things that resulted in savage satisfaction, not...

Not this.

Not Adrian's long tongue dragging across the metalwork that protects his chest, not the way it dips methodically into ridges and creases like he's determined to collect every last drop of it. Not the sounds he makes as he works, so faint as to almost be inaudible. Not the sight of him sinking to his knees like he's eager to suck more than just the blood from Dimitri's fingers.

They're so close to the cathedral. This place should be holy, and he knows full well he is anything but.]

More still?

[He doesn't mean to sound as hoarse as he does. But Adrian shows no signs of stopping, and even bids him to move his legs as though he intends to continue his careful work further down, and he thinks wildly that he should stop Adrian, that it would be wrong to let him take this so far, that letting anyone lick the boots he wears feels like it must be some sort of blasphemy —

But goddess, he's had no interest in sex in so long that he'd almost forgotten how it feels to be this hard, and he can't make himself take his gaze off of Adrian for even a second as he pants, ragged and harsh.]

Don't stop — don't stop — I want to watch —