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Claude watched the stars above Derdriu, glass of chilled white wine in hand and the sounds of the new year’s party in full swing behind him. He was in no mood for merriment, and the cacophony of the party had been too much; not that he disliked these parties, but smiling and chatting with every lord and lady from every corner of Fodlan until his jaw ached was hardly a good time. It had been difficult to find an unoccupied balcony at this time of night, as several had been taken over by clandestine lovers or political allies or both, but he’d been able to use his regal standing to scare off a pair of adolescents before they got too involved in groping each other. No one would dare bother the king having a sulk, and sulk he did.
Usually after this long of an absence, Byleth would come find him and pull him back into the festivities. But he also he knew Byleth wouldn’t come looking for him, not today. That stupid fight. He tapped the toe of his boot against the balustrade, feeling bitter about it as he sipped his wine. Behind him, he knew she was still in there, alone, playing her part of the calm, gracious goddess queen of Fodlan, talking to Seteth about church politics, laughing at the Gonerils’ banter, smiling as Margrave Edmund explained his position on port taxes.
It was a fake smile. He knew that; he’d taught her himself how to smile like she cared. But when their eyes met, he could see something inside her freeze, and she looked at him with a cooler look than he had seen in a long while. And it hurt. The smile was just icing on the cake.
Footsteps; he hurried to neaten himself and put on the easy smile of the King of Almyra. “Claude, there you are.” He paused in his tidying; it was only Marianne. She came to stand beside him on the balcony, and she set another glass of wine in front of him. “You’ve been gone awhile.”
“I guess I got lost in thought.” True enough.
“Because you’re fighting with Byleth?” Thank the gods it was dark; no one needed to see him blush, not even Marianne. “You haven’t said ten words to each other the whole party.”
He sighed. “Everyone noticed, I bet.”
“Probably.” She patted his arm when he sighed again; there was comfort the way she smiled at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Claude glanced behind him; Marianne had shut the doors behind her, giving them some privacy. “I said something rather unkind before the party.” She patted his arm again and then picked up her wine glass to gaze out over the courtyard and listen. “It was a stupid thing to say, and I regretted it the moment it was said, but she just walked out without a word.”
“You can always apologize for anything, Byleth loves you, even if you are an idiot sometimes.”
“You’re starting to sound like Hilda,” he teased with a laugh, and Marianne giggled. Then Claude grew serious again, and sighed. “I know I should, but we can’t have it out tonight in front of everyone.” It was bad enough they had argued in private, but he couldn’t bear the thought of everyone seeing her cry because of him.
“True.” Marianne tapped her nails against glass, creating a pleasant chiming sound. “I’ll talk to Judith and Lorenz, they can clear your schedules for tomorrow.” She patted his arm again, and glanced back at the party. “Byleth is busy with Alois. If you’re quick, you can make it back to your rooms. I’ll tell anyone who asks you weren’t feeling well.”
“Thanks, Marianne.” Claude peeked into the room, and with a few deft strides, he crossed the ballroom with minimal delay. Other than the ballroom, the palace was mostly still and quiet, and he met no one on his way to the apartment. He thought about Marianne’s words; it would take more than a few pretty sentences to make her forgive him, but perhaps he could find something else to sway that stubborn woman. Time for a scheme.
Byleth woke up alone. It had been a strange fitful night of sleep; she knew she had tossed and turned after stumbling to her empty bed, husband nowhere to be found. Without him as an anchor, the weight of his body and arms clinging she thrashed about, unmoored in her sleeping. They hadn’t slept apart since he’d come back from Almyra, and she’d gotten used to his warmth and comfort. Sleeping alone is a lot colder than I remember. Still, she was angry with him, even if that had dulled into resentfulness; a foreign feeling for her, some new sort of emotion she had not yet experienced.
Her damask robe was laid out beside the bed with a note perched on it. Judith cancelled all your appointments and meetings today. Why not have a relaxing morning? That absolute scamp. In her pettiness she almost didn’t shrug it on, but it was her favorite and it fit so well, so she did with a sigh, catching the scent of lavender and lilac; he had dabbed a bit of perfume on the inside of the collar, and she took another deep breath of the smell.
Breakfast waited in the sitting room at a table set for one; again, all her favorites. Still no husband in sight even if his deft touch was everywhere on the scene. She poured hot water from the kettle to the teapot, already prepared with almond tea leaves in its belly, and she sat down to enjoy this strange apology from Claude. She found another note under the teapot when she lifted it. After breakfast, wouldn’t a bath be nice? As if on cue, she heard the taps open and the sounds of water rushing in the other room. Was he watching her? “This is elaborate, even for you.” No answer. “I still might not forgive you.”
The water stopped just as she finished eating, either by coincidence or some sneaky man with a flair for the dramatic was still watching her. But how? Peepholes in their rooms unnerved her at the thought of someone watching them in their most intimate moments.
Next room; no husband. The bath was the right temperature, scented again with lavender and steaming hot. Everything waited for her, right down to a pitcher of cool water to drink and the book she was currently reading set on a table, just within reach of her from the tub. Well, no use wasting a perfectly good bath. Byleth slipped off the robe and sunk into the water, wondering how he managed to disappear from the room without her seeing; of course he would know every secret passage of their rooms. Brat. He had to know how difficult it was to sulk while soaking, her knotted muscles loosening of their own accord.
Book picked up, she carefully cracked it open to where a ribbon marked her place. In the crease another note was wedged to keep it from falling into the hot water. The view from the balcony should be lovely today. Would he be there, finally showing his face after all this elaborate scheming? Well, if he was, he would have to wait until she was good and ready. Or at least until the water was cool.
There were no clothes laid out, so she shrugged her robe back on after drying herself and padded onto the balcony. Sure, she could have refused to be led around their apartment by her invisible husband, but he knew her too well, and her curiosity won over her hurt feelings. And Derdriu was pretty today despite the drizzle of rain making everything gleam. She enjoyed the courtyard below, watching rain drip from the trees to dampen the flowerbeds below, just beginning to bud and bloom.
She watched the scene until she felt good and ready to acknowledge the box on a table under the balcony awning, nothing more than plain wood. Byleth opened it and licked her lips at the sight of a little golden key nestled in suede; she didn’t need a note to know where her husband waited, and she pocketed it. Balcony doors shut firmly behind her, she opened the front door and glanced at the guard there. “No one is to enter these rooms unless called for,” she instructed.
An inclined head. “The king has already requested the same. He said you were to be resting today.” Claude really does think of everything. A nod, and she shut the door, locking it for good measure. Byleth carefully tied the robe more firmly around her waist, considering if she should make him wait. But then her fingers reached for the key in her pocket; no, she didn’t want to wait another moment.
What a lovely sight greeted her as she slipped into their bedroom. There at the head of the bed was her husband, stark naked and lounging against cushions, wearing nothing but a silk blindfold and a pair of golden cuffs on his wrists linked by a delicate chain, and he had his hands in his lap, discreetly covering his cock. A smile when she entered; even quiet as she tried to be, of course he heard everything. “Hello, dearest.”
She walked around the bed, and he followed her with his head, following her sounds and the scent of lavender, no doubt. Byleth sat on the edge of the bed, tracing the lines of his strong limbs, the trail of dark hair up his stomach that then splashed across his chest. “What would you have done if I was still too angry to follow your directions, I wonder.” Key fished from her pocket, she laid it on the bedside table.
“I would have been quite hungry and thirsty after awhile.” He laughed. “I did prepare to only be caught by you, of course. We’ve traumatized enough servants already.”
Byleth reached and traced a finger down from the hollow in his collarbone to his navel, delighting in the way he shivered. This was quite the acceptable apology, but she still wanted him to say it. “You said a terrible thing yesterday,” she whispered.
Even the sound of his tongue wetting his lips made her ache; gods, this man. “I know, I’m sorry. It should have never even been a thought.” He lifted his hands just enough for her to get the briefest sight of his cock, already half-hard. “Let me make it up to you.” His voice deepened as he, too, dropped the last of his guard. “I know you want me to.”
Oh, oh, this man. Byleth shimmied closer to him on the bed, still wrapped in her robe. He gave his hands willingly as she pulled on the chain, lifting his arms over his head and attached to the hook hidden in the headboard. “Is that all right?” He nodded after he relaxed his arms, letting them hang by the cuffs; now he was really at her mercy.
She settled beside him, stretching out languidly as she considered her husband. He breathed slow and steady, but Byleth knew he was forcing himself to seem so calm as they lay there, her eyes roving over his beautiful body and as she decided what to do with this gift, laid bare just for her. At last, she reached, caressing a long scar on one of his thighs, something from before they met. His mouth parted and a soft gasp came from it. Yes. They both needed this to be languid and tender, to rebuild that fracture in their intimacy, no matter how much she wanted to absolutely consume him.
But still, she would tease him a little, and so she wandered to his other thigh, just brushing against his cock to make him gasp a little louder, squirm just a bit as her wrist touched him as she caressed his leg with unhurried strokes. “Never knew that was something you turned you on so much.”
Already he was half-panting; yes, he needed gentleness, too. “You know that’s not why, dearest.” She laughed, and bent to kiss his open mouth, chasing his tongue with her own, groaning at the feel of his own moan stifled by her mouth. Byleth danced a hand up, up, up, pausing to pinch a nipple to elicit another moan. And then back down, and she traced her fingers over his body in an aimless way, delighted in the way he shivered and twisted when she touched a particularly sensitive spot. It made her clench with every quiver of his body, and soon Byleth found herself pushing against her husband rhythmically, her mound pressed against his hip.
Claude noticed, and he grinned. “I bet I could eat you out even blindfolded.” He was getting impatient, already hard and dribbling down the shaft of his cock. That low voice again, and this time he spoke in his mother tongue. “You should let me.”
It was tempting, and Byleth almost accepted, but remembered herself; this was her apology, and she would do what she liked. “No, I don’t think so. I have a better idea.” She moved away a little, Claude whining at the loss of contact, stopped by a moan as she returned, now having stripped off her robe and settled beside him, their skin pressed close. She hooked a foot around his knee to anchor herself, and then pushed two of her fingers into his mouth. He sucked, obedient in a way he never could bring himself to be in public, and when they were slick with his saliva, she reached own between her legs and began to fondle her clit. It was a bit awkward to keep her mound pressed against his hip to make him feel her touching herself, but gods was it worth it to see his mouth fall open, a guttural moan escaping.
Byleth gasped, forehead pressed against his shoulder as she worked herself, pinching her clit. Her hair was starting to stick to her neck as sweat beaded over her skin, groaning against her husband when she felt that sudden sharp rush of relief of orgasm swell and break. She quivered and stilled, and then curled up beside him, breathing heavily. “It would have been better if you used my mouth,” he murmured after she moved her hand and draped it over his chest. She glared, but then laughed when she remembered he still wore the blindfold. “There’s at least two more in there, I know you.”
She made a noise of assent. “At least one really good one.” Her eyes trailed down to his cock and its glistening head. Her hand followed, and he cursed as she gripped his shaft, working precome down the whole length. “I’m going to ride you now,” she whispered in his ear. “I haven’t decided if you’ve been good enough to watch.”
He laughed, even if it was choked as he bit back a moan when her hands fondled his balls. “It will be torture enough to watch you ride my cock without being able to touch.”
Byleth removed her hand from his cock and caressed the underside of his arms, still hanging from the cuffs and chain. “You’re still all right?” He nodded, and she gave him one last soft kiss before she pulled the blindfold from his eyes. She needed to see his gaze, too, she realized; to make sure he was really comfortable in the restraints, but there was nothing but unbridled adoration in the deep forest of his eyes, so Byleth kissed him once more before shifting, moving so she could settle on his thighs, his length resting against her stomach almost idly. “Have I told you that you have a pretty cock?”
He laughed, cut short as she teased a hand through his public hair. “I’m glad you approve. What would you have done if it had been ugly?”
A sniff, as if she was considering. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing we fucked before we got married.” Claude laughed again, and she smiled, enjoying the moment. “Any requests?”
That look he gave her was more than hungry; that was a man left on a desert island to die, parched and starving, now saved and offered the finest meal in all the land. “You are already everything I could ask for.” How could something so sweetly said go straight to her cunt, she wondered.
Byleth reared up, grasped her husband’s cock, and slowly drew him inside. They shuddered, moaning, limbs shaking; Claude’s hips jerked, pushing his cock deeper, and Byleth moaned softly as her hips met his at last. Quickly they found a good, slow rhythm as she rode him, his thick cock pulsing inside her, pressing against that particularly delicious spot deep in her pussy, her clit rubbing against him with each thrust.
She stopped at one point, pressing down hard and trapping his hips so he couldn’t move. Claude moaned, his eyes hooded with lust as Byleth smirked and began to caress her own breasts for him as he watched. Curses tumbled from his lips, tongue darting out again and again as she whined, tugging on her nipples. “Let me, gods, Byleth, let me suck,” he was babbling, his voice breathy and deep as he stared. “I want to touch you so badly.” She leaned forward, hovering over his body, her hands on either side of his head, breasts in his face. A nose nuzzled, and then his mouth found her nipple, tongue rolling around it. Byleth moaned, louder and needier than she intended, more than she understood herself to be, and picked up her thrusts yet again with renewed fervor.
She came quickly and violently with Claude’s mouth still on her breast and his cock buried deep, his own groan muffled by her flesh. Her whole body quivered, shuddering as she continued to ride despite her pussy tightening around his cock. Two, three thrusts and he cried out her name, and she could feel him coming inside, hot and so deep inside. She whimpered at the sensation, collapsing onto his chest, their bodies still enmeshed.
He smiled into her hair, kissing. “Dearest.” A handful of breaths, and Byleth slowly peeled away from her husband, her beloved. She reached up and lifted the chain from its hook; the metal was cool against her back as Claude slipped his arms around her. She reached for the key, and he let her unlock the cuffs from his wrists and examine them for any marks; nothing, that was good. “We were rather gentle this time, so not surprising.”
“Yes, we were.” She snuggled closer, running her hands over his chest, swirling his chest hair. Everything was almost all right with the world again. “Do you need anything?” She was thirsty, and would get some water soon, but his needs were first.
Another kiss. “No, my love.” Their eyes met, and he smiled, looking a little sheepish. “I really am sorry for what I said. It was stupid and unkind, and you deserve better than me losing my temper.”
“I know.” She kissed his nose, his eyelids, the corners of his mouth. “I love you.” Claude pulled her closer, the heaviness of his arm draped around her waist a comfort, the warmth of his body against hers soothing all the ache she felt. “Tell me you love me, too.”
“I love you.” A peck in her hair. “I love you.” Another on her temple. “I’ll learn Srengi and Brigid and Dagda, too, if you want.” She giggled, and curled closer until her ear was against his chest so she could listen to the sounds of his heartbeat, his breath, his stomach and guts, all the sounds of a man who loved her with more fervor than several centuries could hope to contain.