( By the end of the battle Dimitri isn't the only one dripping red. The weekend's training mission had been hard-fought: in truth, it's possible they weren't entirely ready to take on such opponents in such difficult terrain, but in the end they'd managed to use the forest to their own advantage just as well as the bandits they'd been tracking.
More effectively, in the end, for all that flaxen-haired healer girl had been put through her paces keeping them all standing.
It's a close enough brush with death that Yuri finds himself feeling especially energised after the fight. Sure, there's that bone-deep tiredness that'll likely set in later on, but for the time being he'd be willing to bet the ordeal was a trial sent to him by the Goddess to remind him he's lucky to be alive. Sometimes he works out the post-battle euphoria with the nearest stranger, and sometimes he'll shoot Balthus a hot look as he heads along Chrysalis Row to their shared dormitory, but tonight ... )
Hey — wait a minute there, Your Highness.
( Tonight, Yuri has an altogether different idea for who to take to his bed.
He jogs towards Dimitri, blood-stained and slightly wild-eyed even as Garreg Mach looms before them. After the business with the chalice Yuri had resolved to keep half an eye on the Prince of Farghus — there was something about the way he fought, the way he killed, that Yuri found particularly intriguing. Even more intriguing was the way he'd behave afterwards — compressing himself back into place behind his mask of nobility — but still, his eyes belie his urges if you know what you're looking for.
Yuri is one such person who knows what he's looking for.
It's something he might use to his advantage if he can harness the young prince properly. Bedding him should be easy enough, but making Dimitri want more ... encouraging him to view Yuri as the only person with whom he can act upon his darker urges ...
Well. If he plays his cards right, being able to blackmail the King of Faerghus down the line could prove itself pretty beneficial to his various causes. When he catches up to the prince Yuri brushes a lock of hair back behind his ear to expose the side of his throat as he speaks: )
Good job out there today — and I mean that House Leader to House Leader. I'm pretty sure Balthus would have been a gonner if you hadn't taken out the guys in the bushes.
( Forgive him, Balthus — but you did kind of charge head-first into a six-man trap. Yuri chuckles lightly, though, apparently unconcerned by the idea of his closest friend in mortal peril, before slanting a gently suggestive smile towards Dimitri. )
If you've got a minute later on, you should swing by Abyss. There's something I'd like to show you — providing you're feeling suitably open-minded.
( A beat. )
Ask for me by name, yeah? My goons know who to bring to me.
[It was a training mission, Dimitri is telling himself with every step he takes, the words like a mantra forced through gritted teeth in his mind. It was necessary. They were brigands and bandits. The church condoned it. The professor ordered it. It was a training mission.
When he does well on missions like these — when he fights with all the strength and power he has in him — it means he's kept people safe. He's kept his loved ones alive. It means he's avoided another tragedy. It means he won't have to see someone else's head sever from their shoulders every time he closes his eyes.
It was necessary. They were brigands and bandits. The church condoned it.
The bloodlust in his veins will have quieted by the time they reach Garreg Mach again. It always does. He always manages to draw it back in and bottle it up, no matter how out of hand he'd let it get on the battlefield. The stench of blood always leaves his nostrils eventually. He stops craving. He's not the mindless boar that Felix always calls him. He's not, he's not, he's not.
The professor ordered it. It was a training mission. It was necessary.
He is the heir of the throne of Faerghus, the last direct descendant in the Blaiddyd bloodline. He must be better than this. He must keep control of himself. If he just goes through the motions — if he takes all the right actions — he just has to observe all the right forms until it passes. Until someday he really is the noble he's supposed to be.
Goddess, he's trying so hard to be what he's supposed to be —
But then suddenly someone's talking to him, the voice like a fishhook dragging him out of the depths of his thoughts, and when he looks in the direction of the sound, he's still a little wild-eyed at first, before the familiarity of conversation reminds him of his manners.]
O-Oh. Ah — Yuri, forgive me, I didn't hear you approach.
[The stimulation of a friendly face helps, a little, with keeping him engaged and out of the reach of the whispering voices that threaten to drag him down into the tempest of their demands. Conversation is habitual, and lordly manners are practically a reflex. It'll help to ground him, to talk with Yuri. It'll help him to make the transition back from the howls of battle to the calm decorum of the monastery.]
Please, it was nothing. Your Wolves are a great asset to the Blue Lions in battle; if anything, I should be the one extending my own thanks.
[He lets out a slow breath, watching the way Yuri's fingers skim around his ear, how they drag carelessly down the column of his neck where his uniform and armor don't obscure it. His own collar fits tightly; all of a sudden he's aware of its press against his Adam's apple, the way the stiffness of it feels a little like a leash.
Maybe it would be better, he thinks suddenly, if he were to put off his return to Garreg Mach a little while longer. Abyss is...rougher. More informal. Perhaps it'd be better to idle a while there, on the pretext of a meeting with another House Leader, to let his blood cool before subjecting himself again to the scrutinizing holiness of the Lady Rhea — and the professor.]
Your offer is an intriguing one, I'll admit. But surely there's no need for any "goons". Or is this less of a social call than you're suggesting?
( So, then. This might work after all. Yuri notes the artificially slow way Dimitri releases his breath, feels the weight of his gaze following the line of his throat, but doesn't acknowledge it beyond offering a playful little wink. It shouldn't seem particularly suspicious: Yuri's behaviour is no more or less flirtatious than he'd be at the best of times, but then Dimitri hasn't had a great deal of exposure to the Trickster thus far.
Poor guy. )
Actually, it's probably more of a social call than an individual such as yourself is used to — but you're just gonna have to wait and see what I mean by that.
( He teases, before giving him a gentle nudge with his elbow. )
... What I will say is that you seem like the kind of guy who could use a little company after a fight. No need to unwind on your own if you don't have to.
( Still, Yuri can't help himself from peppering the conversation with little clues, if only to pique Dimitri's interest and leave him to wind himself up as he tries to figure out what he might mean. This might be a business play on Yuri's end, to be sure, but there's no reason he can't enjoy himself while he does it. )
Come after six, yeah? I'll be waiting.
( Yuri flicks his fingers in an easy 'goodbye' before letting himself hang back for his Wolves — although it isn't until they're back in the depths of Abyss that he tugs Balthus aside to reveal the plan he's set in motion. If this works, he could have the future King of Faerghus eating from the palm of his hand; Dimitri is almost desperately generous, and tries so hard to be as kind and accommodating as can be, which means that twist of darkness Yuri's seen flickering behind those unfocused blue eyes ...
It's a weakness, and it's only a matter of time before someone else realises they can exploit it. Might as well be him, right? For the betterment of the people of Abyss — and not some horrid scheme from a pathetic noble trying to beg more power and privileges?
The rest of his afternoon is spent bathing and beautifying himself. It's a ritual Hapi and Coco will have seen enough times to at least have some idea of what's going on; they aren't stupid, but there's also no reason to bring them in on a scheme that could cause them harm. He'd exclude Balthus, too, were the nature of their relationship not somewhat different — which is how the Undefeated King of Anal finds himself helping Yuri to stretch himself open and soften up his hole as they bicker over who gets the bedroom for the night.
In the end, Yuri gives up the dorm and pays off the Seer for use of her chambers — funds that he's tempted to tell Balthus will be added to his debt (for all he has no real intention of doing so). By the time six o'clock rolls around Yuri is slicked up, sweetly scented, and set up with a pot of chamomile tea, which he idly checks on as he waits for Dimitri to make his appearance. )
[The worst part about it is, at first pass he misses the flirting in favor of just being stunned at the prospect of being invited to spend time with someone companionably. He's used to formalities brought on by his rank, invitations extended to him either because there's an ulterior motive or because it wouldn't be proper to leave out the future king, regardless of whether anyone really wants him there or not. And so many of his friendships — if he can call them that to begin with — can sometimes feel so horribly one-sided, all deference and tact no matter how much he begs to be treated like anyone else.
He doesn't begrudge them the formality, of course. He doesn't care about Dedue any less just because he's never been able to convince him to use his name. He's fond of Ashe no matter how much he's the prince first and a fellow Lion second in the little archer's eyes. Everyone is kind to him, in their ways, and he appreciates it like he's supposed to, but —
But that hangs so heavy over all of it. Supposed to. All of them, behaving as they're supposed to.
That's why it stuns him that for those few seconds, Yuri doesn't. He naturally positions them as equals, even when he's using the right words and observing the right forms — he says your Highness like it's a term of affection instead of a title, he asserts himself as a House Leader in his own right just as Dimitri is head of his, he refers to him as a guy like you like he knows him, like what he is matters just as much as who he is.
And that's why he's just crazy enough to go. Because Yuri invites him for a social call and makes it sound like it really will be social. Because he asks if Dimitri wants company and he
and he
oh goddess he doesn't want to be alone with his responsibilities and ghosts right now.
But at least he only has to make it until six. It'll give him time to calm down, somewhat, and to go through his usual methodical process of cleaning and putting away his armor, of rinsing off the sweat and stench of battle. He should eat something, really, even though he'll derive no pleasure from it. And if it's a social call, then a gift is probably in order — a pair of riding boots, perhaps. Or maybe he's got an owl feather around somewhere that would do. Or —
Well, at least he's got plenty to keep him occupied until the appointed hour.
He sneaks down into Abyss at a little after six, determined not to be formally punctual while still respecting the hour, and sure enough, there are plenty of goons around that he can ask for directions. On the other hand, there's also Balthus, who he'll feel considerably less foolish approaching, and his comrade-in-arms flashes him a boisterous grin and a clap on the shoulder before pointing him in the right direction and heading off himself for a drink at the Wilted Rose.
He seems pleased with himself. Dimitri idly wonders why.
But it's a short walk to his destination, an alcove done up in rich blue drapery that's a little too close to Faerghus blue for Dimitri's attempts at commoner comfort, and when he pokes his head in, he's relieved to find Yuri already there and waiting, but not impatiently so.]
Hello.
["Hello". He's such an idiot. Swallowing back a flash of self-consciousness, he steps inside and holds out a box containing a rather humble but utilitarian whetstone — Yuri uses a sword in battle, it's practical, it's friendly — as his peace offering.]
( Yuri replies, an easy smirk on his lips as he rises to greet him. A flicker of surprise crosses his features when Dimitri offers him that small box; it hadn't occurred to him that in putting them on even footing he might see fit to treat him like he'd treat a peer, but then he supposes the guy tries so hard to be proper he'd probably have brought a gift even if Yuri had been a servant. )
A gift? C'mon — you're spoiling me, Your Highness.
( He teases, taking the box from Dimitri as he gestures for him to join him in taking a seat. If anything the gift makes this feel a little more like the transactions of his past in Enbarr: sure, the nobles he entertained would pay him well for his services, but many of them would also shower him with gifts and jewellery in order to maintain the pretence of some kind of secret relationship. Yuri rarely kept those little trinkets — he'd sell them on and use the money buy food and supplies for the other street kids — but that, he supposes, is what made them truly valuable.
The whetstone, on the other hand, isn't worth very much at all. Unlike his clients, Dimitri isn't attempting to trick himself into believing some kind of lie, nor is he trying to buy his affections due to misplaced jealousy. Instead he's given Yuri something that he'll be able to make good use of: something to make him more efficient, more deadly, and a better soldier on the battlefield.
Yuri smiles as he fingers the stone, before setting the box aside and lifting those violet eyes to the prince. )
Thank you, Dimitri.
(Dimitri. His name, not his title.
Yuri pours them each a cup of tea, one fine hand resting lightly atop the teapot's lid to keep it in place as he pours, before setting it down again and adding a generous dollop of honey to his own. )
I'm afraid all I've got to offer you in return is tea ...
( Yuri drops a playful wink in his direction, before lifting his own cup to his lips to take a careful sip. )
For the time being, in any case.
( A moment of silence stretches between them as Yuri observes Dimitri from over the rim of his cup. He really is incredibly handsome — he'll grow into a fine man someday, if he lives that long — and amusement touches the corners of his lips as he sets his tea back down on the saucer. )
So. You're probably wondering what it is I wanted to show you, huh? Truth be told it's actually more of an ... experience, than anything else. And before you ask — don't let the surroundings give you any wild ideas.
( A chuckle. )
I'm no more a seer than Balthus or Sylvain.
( Yuri cocks his head just so, the softening balm on his lips glinting in the low light as he smiles. )
Go ahead and correct me if I'm wrong, but ... it seems to me that fighting winds you up with a little extra energy, huh? Energy that you might not have a proper outlet for after the fact.
[Dimitri. He's too composed to shiver visibly at the sound of his own name lilting in Yuri's teasing voice, but it sends a thrill shooting down his spine nevertheless. Why had he never thought to reach out to Yuri before now, on his own terms, he wonders? In retrospect, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world — who better to understand his own circumstances than another house leader? Who better to seek out as an equal? Certainly there are no politics plaguing the Ashen Wolves the way that the other three houses are tainted by their own regions' intrigues. Perhaps there really is a friendship here for him, and has been for a while, only he'd been too blind to reach out and take it.
Between that and the tea, he relaxes a little; when he reaches for his cup and the scent of chamomile reaches his nose, his lingering tension eases all the more. Oh, it's his favorite. Could it be that Yuri somehow knew? Perhaps he'd been talking to the professor, or...
Or, no, that's insane. Maybe it's just a lucky guess. Whatever it is, he's grateful for it.]
This is my favorite, actually. The smell is nostalgic.
[Nostalgic enough that he can almost remember what things taste like. Regardless, he has a few moments before conversation begins, and he takes his time to relish them, closing his eyes to properly appreciate the aroma of the tea before sipping lightly at it and letting the heat wash over his tongue.
It's a good thing, too. Because when Yuri mentions a little extra energy, he almost tenses right back up again for fear that he's been found out, a caged animal come under scrutiny — but at the very least he's got the tea to help keep himself calm, and his throat wet, and his voice even.]
I think that's how any soldier feels. Most men feel the rush of battle; it's a large part of what keeps them alive in such a dangerous situation. I doubt it's unusual to think that such a rush wouldn't merely disappear the instant a battle concludes.
[But.]
Thus far you've offered me an outlet and companionship. If you're leading up to the suggestion that we train together, you didn't need to go to all this formality, I assure you.
( Dimitri's (incorrect) assumption gets one of those easy smiles from Yuri: )
Train with you? Please — you'd have me flat on my back in seconds.
( Which isn't necessarily true — Dimitri has the strength, certainly, but Yuri is all speed and accuracy — but he's never been one to boast about his strengths in the same way that some of the other students might. In Yuri's experience it can be pretty beneficial to be underestimated; there's nothing quite like seeing your opponent realise they've made a terrible mistake.
With Dimitri's free hand resting on the table it's easy for Yuri to reach out and touch the prince's armoured wrist; he might not feel the warmth of his skin against his fingertips, but the weight of the gesture is symbolic enough that it hardly matters. Dark lashes slide low as Yuri lets the side of his boot slide against the curve of Dimitri's ankle: )
What I'm offering is an outlet, companionship ... but of the more intimate variety.
( He smiles, but there's nothing mocking or teasing in his expression this time. The last thing he wants is for Dimitri to misunderstand, or to think he's being strung along for a joke. )
With the right person you'll find it can be just as satisfying as training — even more so, more often than not.
[Oh. He's not being invited to train, he's being propositioned. That makes considerably more sense.
...
Wait.
There's a gap in time between the conclusion and the appreciation of what he's just concluded, not unlike the way that lightning flashes before it's chased by a roll of thunder. He makes the connection between all the little inviting things Yuri does — the softening of his eyes to show off the painted lids, the brush of his fingertips, the nudge of his boot in such a way that puts his leg against Dimitri's beneath the table — and recognizes a come-on for what it is. It's just...it doesn't quite land, at first, that he's being...propositioned.
Sex. With him. And this all originated fresh off the battlefield, when Yuri made the conscious choice to tempt him down into Abyss with secrets and promises, dangling an enigma in front of his eyes until Yuri could get him alone and touch his wrist and offer —
Sex.
It's not just that it's a brazen offer, in and of itself. It's that the prospect of sex at all is something that's always been so wrapped up in duty and noble obligation, finding a suitable bride and siring heirs for the continuance of his line, that very little of it actually sounds particularly enticing. To say nothing of how the topic has been tainted by Sylvain's antics, or his own misgivings, or the associations he has between his own wide palm and the shame of getting lost in the smell of blood in the air — or worse, the professor's affectionate gaze.
He swallows hard.]
How differently things work in Abyss. Is that your...post-battle custom?
[He's being so careful with his words that two things immediately become apparent: he's trying very hard not to offend Yuri with all the diplomacy he's been raised in since birth, and he has absolutely no idea what's happening to him right now.]
You could do better. Surely. I doubt I'm anyone's..."right person".
( Yuri exhales a soft breath that might sound a little like a chuckle of Dimitri's listening for it, although it's at least apparent that the prince isn't exactly being laughed at. Laughed ... beside. That's nicer, right? )
Forgive me, Dimitri — but it's not exactly unique to us down here. A lot of people find a quick tumble to be the best way to clear your head.
( His smile curves a little wider. )
And hey, the "right person" might not mean what you'd think in matters like this. Status, propriety, even how well you get along in class ... when you're fucking for the sake of fucking, none of that really matters.
( A beat. Yuri doesn't move his hand from Dimitri's, but instead lets the pads stroke over the back of the finely-wrought metal. )
You see? It's not about me being able to do better.
( Mischief touches his smile. )
It's about me thinking that bedding you might help you — and me — feel good for a while.
[Is this how propositions are supposed to go, he thinks idly (and a little desperately). Somehow, it's hard to imagine Sylvain securing his liaisons in the same manner that Yuri is pursuing his. There's persuasion, certainly, but there's no flattery or soft, mincing words; if anything, Yuri almost comes off like a silver-tongued advisor with all his facts and figures lined up in advance, come to convince his king of the most sensible course of action.
And does that set him at ease, from the familiarity, or make him more nervous that he's actually finding himself persuaded by the rationale? A mutually beneficial outcome. Fu...fuc...having relations for the sake of having relations, and nothing more.
Yuri is, strangely, very pretty when he smiles like he's up to something.]
You're very determined, aren't you.
[He doesn't like how breathless the remark comes out, betraying just how tempted he is by the proposition already.]
I'm...still, I'm unsure it would be appropriate. F-For me. I have obligations that I must adhere to, even at the expense of my own satisfaction...
[Goddess, his resolve is fracturing, and he can feel it.]
( The thing Dimitri doesn't seem to understand is that for a whore — and a good one, at that — the proposition itself is a fluid, ever-changing thing, that will always be tailored in one way or another to suit the other person's needs. Yuri has been doing this for long enough to make an educated guess at the best way in past Dimitri's resolve: not flattery or simpering, or trying to spin it into some kind of fairy-tale between the two of them, but ...
Simple practicality. A transaction between two people for a mutually beneficial result.
Easy. )
Obligations ... that taking another boy to bed will somehow impact?
( He raises an eyebrow. )
I mean, I know my looks can be deceiving sometimes— ( at this, he winks ) but you won't find a woman's parts beneath my trousers. I can't push out a bastard claim to the throne in nine month's time and have you revealed as an irresponsible leader — or worse.
( Yuri pauses for a moment, curling his index finger against his chin for further effect: )
In fact, when you look at it like that ... you could almost say that bedding another boy is the responsible thing to do, huh?
( Finally, he leans away from Dimitri so that he can take another sip of his honeyed tea. Pushing the matter too hard would look both desperate and suspicious, and besides: leaving that kernel of thought to dig itself into the back of Dimitri's mind will do more to persuade him than words ever could. )
... Of course, it's entirely up to you. I'm happy sharing only my tea, if that's all you'll have of me, but ... the offer is open, Your Highness.
( And this time the way his lips shape his title seems almost playful — gently teasing. )
[It all seems so reasonable, laid out in that way, and there's a part of him that nags that this is precisely how swindlers and con men ply their victims into their confidence, but it's hard to see what Yuri could possibly even stand to gain except exactly what he promises. He's right that there's no possibility of an illegitimate child that could be used as leverage against him, and it's not as though the fact that he's male is really any object — it's far from unheard-of for a person's tastes to run that way, and no one really minds it unless it's getting in the way of the noble putting a crest-bearing heir into his proper wife.
Loog and Kyphon, the tales go, even — well, everyone knows they were inseparable. That bond is veritably the whole reason he even has a Fraldarius of his own to begin with, as his father did before him.
So — what harm could it even do, really? Abyss is no independent political territory of its own that he runs the risk of offending; Yuri doesn't command an army that he could raise against the Kingdom for some perceived slight. And if there even was anything to blackmail him with, well...surely it couldn't be any worse than what's said about him already, and if nothing else, at least a sex scandal would make people stop talking about his choice to make his retainer a man from Duscur. At least for a while.]
I don't want to be called "your Highness" by someone I'm...
[He bites his lip, but it's too late to take the words back. Not that, on second pass, he really wants to take them back as it is.]
I must warn you that, because of my Crest, I am not always suited to...careful work. I could hurt you. If I were to lose control, I could...
[Beneath the table, inside his trousers, his cock twitches enough to make him shiver.]
You must take every precaution. I don't want to risk hurting you.
Yuri smiles faintly, making sure not to let any self-satisfaction creep into his expression, before sliding the side of his foot up the curve of Dimitri's calf as he fingers the side of his cup. )
I wouldn't worry about that, Dimitri.
( That smile turns reassuring. )
I mean, I've seen what your Crest can do on the battlefield. I wouldn't have brought you here tonight if I didn't think I could handle it — or if I thought it made you any less suitable for this.
( There's a moment of consideration, then: )
Have you lain with another boy before?
( While it's tempting to throw out some names — Sylvain, Dedue, perhaps even Felix — Yuri knows better than to bring up a guy's companions while easing him into the idea of sex. Besides, there's a very real possibility that invoking the Faerghan nobles would give him cold feet about the whole thing, and so instead of making guesses he contents himself with unclasping his half-cloak and draping it over the back of his chair. )
Or a girl?
( Just because the guy has 'virgin' written all over him doesn't mean that's actually the case, after all, and Yuri wants to know what he's going to be dealing with. )
[Yuri's boot rubbing along his calf suddenly seems to draw all of his attention, yanking it away from the table and down to where there's pressure and the soft caress of his trouser leg's fabric, all interesting texture and sensation that shouldn't be gripping him as hard as they are, somehow.
Aware that he's close to a mistake, he tries to cover it by clearing his throat. It doesn't altogether work.]
In Faerghus it's custom for nobles to, ah. Witness the consummation of a marriage. I've been present. Occasionally.
[Also, he's friends with Sylvain, but that goes without saying, so he doesn't say it.]
I may not boast the experience of some, but I'm not ignorant. I'm aware of the differences, when it's a man.
( Yuri just nods, before rising to his feet so that he can properly close and lock the door. It isn't usual for the Seer's quarters to be closed — she makes a point of always being available to those who need help in matters they can't bring to the Goddess — but every now and then, when Yuri as a lot of money riding on a tryst and he loses a bickering match with Balthus ... )
You nobles and your customs.
( He sighs, but there's amusement sparkling in his eyes as he approaches the table again. There's a bed tucked against the other side of the room, plush with mismatched pillows and gauzy drapery that some people might find inviting. In Yuri's opinion, it's a bit much, but then his own bed is a comfortable nest of Balthus's cast-offs and worn, threadbare blankets.
He isn't really in any position to be criticising someone else's sleeping space. )
Anyway, luckily for you? Boasters don't really do it for me.
( He teases, extending a palm for Dimitri to take so that he can help him to his feet. Yuri might be older but the prince is already a good few inches taller than him — something the omega in him silently appreciates as he moves to unfasten the front of his uniform. Beneath it, Yuri wears a thin ivory shirt tucked into the high waist of his pants; it's a little sheer in the low light, and pink nipples are just visible beneath the fabric as he tosses the dark outer layer to the floor. )
Why don't you take a seat on the bed, hm?
( A hand lifts to cup Dimitri's cheek with an easy smirk. )
And I'll show you what you're getting yourself into.
Customs have their uses, I suppose, but...truthfully, I agree with you.
[And that may well be the first non-anxious thing he's said since he made his way down into Abyss. The hurdle, it seems, had been getting him past his own hangups and misgivings; once surmounted, he's far more amenable to going along with Yuri's flow and seeing where it leads him.
(He hadn't noticed the bed at first, truthfully. Now, as he's led toward it, he isn't altogether sure how he could've missed it.)
But he lets Yuri guide him, amicable almost to the point of being properly called pliant, and when he settles down on the bed, he's thankfully less rigid than he was at tea — his knees slightly spread instead of jammed tightly together, his spine relaxed, his arms resting on the tops of his legs.]
May I touch you?
[He's so polite, this future king.]
Or — no. No, of course you should lead. I'm sorry; but please direct me as you see fit.
( Yuri closes the distance between them to the point where he's within touching distance - but Dimitri probably knows better than to think this means he's going to get whatbhe wants right away. That cute polite streak of his ... Yuri can't help but want to put it to the test, just to see if there's more to the prince than the sense of propriety he's clinging on to even now. )
No touching yet.
( He confirms, his eyes on Dimitri as he pulls the shirt from where it's tucked into his trousers. A moment later sees it unfastened, peeled away, discarded, before Yuri toes his way out of his boots and stocking to leave him standing there in just his trousers. )
... I may have been a little creative with the truth, regarding what I said earlier.
( He confesses - giving a very good impression of someone who's genuinely apologetic. Yuri's fingers skim over the fastenings of his trousers before popping them open and pushing them down, revealing soft, bare hips, gently rounded, between which sits the neatly waxed vee of his pussy.
Yuri is an omega. )
Still a man's parts, but an omega man's parts.
( He says wryly, placing one hand on his hip as he cocks it to let Dimitri look his fill. )
Don't get yourself all worked up about it, though, Handsome. You're not gonna take me there.
[If he were a little more of the cunning sort, maybe Dimitri would've been able to hide the way his eyes slowly widen — not even from what's revealed when Yuri's trousers come off, but just from watching his garments peel away at all. He makes it look so elegant, moving with natural grace even when he's giving every impression of just being utilitarian about it, and as each new patch of skin is revealed, the weight of no touching yet burns a little more.
And — there, finally, Yuri stands bared before him, and honestly with the way Yuri leads his house and his battalions, Dimitri had sort of had him pegged as another alpha himself, so this comes as an unexpected revelation. He has to make himself swallow back the twinge of instinct that flutters in his gut, his alpha instincts stirred out of dormancy by the sight and scent of an omega's soft curves close enough to touch, close enough to lean forward and lick...
But the last thing he wants is for Yuri to consider him a brute of an alpha, himself. He's the heir to the throne of Faerghus, he knows how to control himself. He won't lose his manners. He'll behave.]
I see I'll have to be on my guard around your silver tongue.
[Speaking of tongues, he swallows again, trying not to scent or lean forward or act out.]
I understand, but perhaps I could...kiss you?
[Lord's kisses, they called it in the stories of Loog and Kyphon. The proper way for any alpha to treat an omega, putting their mouth and tongue to pleasurable use.]
( Yuri watches realisation melt over Dimitri's expression with an amused kind of patience, and later he'll fancy he could pinpoint the precise moment the alpha in him recognises what it's seeing. Visually, certainly, but Yuri isn't so far removed from his own biology that he doesn't feel the pull too — a deep, preening satisfaction of being in the presence of an alpha.
His pussy throbs. )
You'd put your mouth on me?
( Balthus does that for him — very enthusiastically, too — but he hadn't necessarily expected that Dimitri might want to do the same. Then again, if he was taught the ins and outs of alpha-omega behaviour from those old Faerghan fairy-tales ... )
I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.
( Yuri steps closer, his thighs perhaps more plump and inviting than the long cut of his uniform would suggest. Two fingers press gently beneath Dimitri's chin to coax him into looking up at him properly: )
Take your gloves off for me, hm? Then you can touch.
[It's not unheard-of for two alphas to lie together; it's that very knowledge that's kept the professor in his fantasies, even after their respective standings had been shared. Naturally there's no procreation possible, and some alphas avoid it because of the possibility of tensions running high and instincts of dominance getting out of hand, preferring to maintain their relationships instead of risking them on careless, charged liaisons. And when he'd assumed that Yuri was an alpha, that all had sort of followed — particularly the part about blowing off steam, letting one's instincts out after the heat of battle.
But this — this rouses an entirely new instinct in him. He knows it the instant Yuri's bare pussy twinges, knows it on an instinctual level he can't even begin to try to describe. He knows it because he's genetically programmed to be attuned to it, a biological imperative to assert strength and claim and mate.
And that rattles him a little. It's hard enough keeping his own demons in check, without the added recklessness of having a lovely soft omega standing in front of him, inviting him, tempting him toward choices he's supposed to know better than to indulge.]
Oh — yes. Yes, the gloves, of course.
[It's a distraction, a point to focus on, but it doesn't last him for long. He releases the fastenings and begins to tug his gauntlets off, neatly setting them aside, but his involuntary reactions are already threatening to bubble up and expose themselves.
When he finally looks back, his hands bared and his gloves tucked away, he can't hold himself back anymore. Not entirely. Not enough.
Deep, deep in the back of his throat, he rumbles a faint and interested purr. In its way, it's the aural equivalent of a wink or a nod thrown across a crowded room, an attention-seeking noise keyed to solicit a reaction. It's a sound he's never made before; he's never had reason to. It's not a noise that alphas make at other alphas.
He can't look away — and couldn't, even without the fingers beneath his chin. Helpless to stop himself, it spills out again — rich and thick and deep, hello, have you noticed me? you should.]
( Yuri knows that sound — but Seiros, is it ever sweeter when it's coming form Dimitri. In truth he's a little surprised by how much that rumble effects him — there have been plenty of instances in which an alpha has tried to get his attention and he's brushed it off with easy disinterest — and yet there's something about the openness of his gaze, the rich sound of the purr ...
He's noticed him. The whole reason they're even here is because Yuri has noticed him — and that soft sound stirs at those omega urges he goes to lengths to hide behind closed doors. In truth he doesn't mind the people he has sex with knowing what he is — he certainly isn't ashamed it, much as certain echelons of society might sometimes prefer him to be — but more than anything else?
It's not good business to be outed as an omega when you're running an underground gang. Better to keep it to moments like this, when Yuri can put himself on his hands and knees and present to an alpha without having to worry about appearances.
His own purr is pitched a little higher than Dimitri's. It's a soft, inviting response of yes, I've noticed you, and I've chosen you, and Yuri exhales softly through his mouth as he begins to pick up the thick warmth of the prince's scent. For all he's working hard to remain in control here there's nothing quite like the aroma of a wanting alpha, and Yuri swallows hard as his hands skim up his torso to cup the just-barely soft flesh surrounding hard, pink nipples. )
D'you want to see?
( He doesn't wait for an answer. Yuri slides onto the bed and shifts so he's laying back against the decorative pillows, his thighs parted and a knee bent to coax Dimitri's attention to the hot pink slit between his legs. It's plump and soft, slightly damp with arousal as his body reacts to his proximity to Dimitri, and it's waxed smooth but for a pretty strip of violet hair. )
Just being around you makes me feel good, you know.
( He murmurs — and honestly, too, before letting another purr roll between them as he opens his legs a little wider. )
[Oh. Oh, what a lovely sound, the proper answer to the call-and-response he'd unthinkingly initiated. His alpha instincts are pleased, approving of the result his overture had drawn in return. No need to posture or go out of his way to prove why interest in him should be an inevitability, and while there are some alphas who might feel a little cheated out of the opportunity to boast and prove their mettle in that way, Dimitri's are too accustomed to restraint, too pleased at the prospect of acceptance.
Dimitri knows that Yuri is in front of him, unclothed, experienced well beyond his own measure. The alpha in him sees it the opposite way, perceiving only a lithe and supple omega signaling its own desires, waiting for him to do as both their natures direct.
He tries to remind himself that it's Dimitri who needs to keep the upper hand, here. It's Dimitri who has a reputation to protect. Dimitri who has to walk back out of this encounter and go about the rest of his life.
The alpha has no such concerns. It merely wants what it's already decided it's entitled to.]
Seeing doesn't even come close to what I want.
[It's like someone else said it, someone else with a dark and gravelly voice, rich with desire.]
I...m-my apologies. I'm keeping you waiting.
[He slides a little closer along the mattress, edging near enough that he can reach out with his bare hand and curve it behind Yuri's raised knee, slowly and almost respectfully leaning in to touch a kiss to the inside of his thigh.
He needs to go slowly, he reminds himself. Slowly and carefully, and stay in control.]
Your scent is very pretty.
[He risks another kiss, then another, slowly working his way up Yuri's leg toward the tantalizing heat waiting for him.]
Yuri has caught glimpses of that version of Dimitri as he's cut a path through the battlefield; he's seen the wildfire in his eyes, the depth of his need for blood, and he feels his clit jump in response to that rough tone that fills the space between them.
The omega in him laments the moment Dimitri's sense of propriety kicks in a moment later and squashes that part of himself back down — but it's too late for him to try to get away with it. His pussy is wet, slick and glossy from the low rumble of Dimitri's words, and Yuri has to let his eyes slide shut for a moment or two so that he can gather himself again. )
... Mm. You think so? Constance makes me a tonic that helps make it less strong ... y'know, keeping up with appearances, that whole thing.
( There's a reason Dimitri had pegged Yuri as an alpha, after all, and he's needed a little help in making sure that's how he's perceived. It isn't surprising that the prince can detect his true scent now — he's laying in front of him with his legs spread, for Serios' sake — but it'd be even prettier if Yuri weren't going to all the effort of keeping it as muted as possible.
The line of kisses winding its way up Yuri's thigh makes it hard to focus on such things. His teeth skim over a plump lower lip as he props himself up on a bent elbow: )
A Lord's kiss from the prince of Faerghus ...
( Dimitri isn't the only one who's up on his raunchy lore. A playful smile touches Yuri's lips as he strokes his fingers through gold-spun hair with his free hand: )
You're gonna make me the envy of every omega this side of Sreng.
That would involve admitting to them that you're an omega, first.
[He edges closer with another kiss, closer still, taking his time but also carefully working up his nerve; what he's about to do, he's going to attempt based purely on instinct and the stories he's heard all his life, and one or two in-person demonstrations viewed from far away and behind the tasteful obstruction of a gauzy curtain. Perhaps he has no talents, and Yuri's talk of envy is premature; still, both sides of him want to try, the prince to live up to the legend they're spinning out between them, and the alpha out of simpler pressing desire to claim the omega before him in whatever way he can.
But all Yuri's reactions are positive ones, and help his confidence along. It feels nice to have his hair caressed, to be close enough to catch his scent from behind the blockers. It's a pity he won't be able to taste him, defective alpha that he is. He already looks so wet and inviting.
So he moves at last, lips parting faintly as he does finally bring them to touch Yuri's slit in a perfect imitation of a kiss — pressure first, then a tip of his chin and a brush of his tongue, then again and deeper before the first one has even really concluded, the flat of his tongue parting the slick folds as it drags past them, slow and winding wet itself.]
( There's a tremulous quality to the sigh that leaves Yuri when Dimitri finally puts his mouth on him; the sweet pressure of lips that tilts into to something more as he explores the idea of a real, true kiss. His thigh twitches as he does his best to keep his hips still for the young prince: he's new to this, he reminds himself, and there's a darkness to this alpha that Balthus doesn't share ...
It could make him unpredictable, and pushing too hard during such a moment could have frustrating consequences. )
... Just like that.
( He praises him, unable to keep the syrup-softness from his voice as his omega nature begins to truly take hold. It's always like this when he fucks an alpha: Yuri can play at being in charge until lips, cock, or fingers find his pussy, at which point he slowly begins to unravel until he's a keening mess of want.
The fact that it's happening a little more quickly than usual? Well. That passes him by entirely.
Yuri sinks back against the pillows as he bends his knees to frame Dimitri's head between this thighs. It always feels so good to give in to this part of himself — to let an alpha worship the petal-soft folds that make him different — and he tilts his hips up towards him in offering as he resists squirming against the sheets. Violet eyeshadow catches the light his eyes slip closed for a moment, another of those tender purrs rumbling up from the very back of his throat. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FOR DIMITRI.
( By the end of the battle Dimitri isn't the only one dripping red. The weekend's training mission had been hard-fought: in truth, it's possible they weren't entirely ready to take on such opponents in such difficult terrain, but in the end they'd managed to use the forest to their own advantage just as well as the bandits they'd been tracking.
More effectively, in the end, for all that flaxen-haired healer girl had been put through her paces keeping them all standing.
It's a close enough brush with death that Yuri finds himself feeling especially energised after the fight. Sure, there's that bone-deep tiredness that'll likely set in later on, but for the time being he'd be willing to bet the ordeal was a trial sent to him by the Goddess to remind him he's lucky to be alive. Sometimes he works out the post-battle euphoria with the nearest stranger, and sometimes he'll shoot Balthus a hot look as he heads along Chrysalis Row to their shared dormitory, but tonight ... )
Hey — wait a minute there, Your Highness.
( Tonight, Yuri has an altogether different idea for who to take to his bed.
He jogs towards Dimitri, blood-stained and slightly wild-eyed even as Garreg Mach looms before them. After the business with the chalice Yuri had resolved to keep half an eye on the Prince of Farghus — there was something about the way he fought, the way he killed, that Yuri found particularly intriguing. Even more intriguing was the way he'd behave afterwards — compressing himself back into place behind his mask of nobility — but still, his eyes belie his urges if you know what you're looking for.
Yuri is one such person who knows what he's looking for.
It's something he might use to his advantage if he can harness the young prince properly. Bedding him should be easy enough, but making Dimitri want more ... encouraging him to view Yuri as the only person with whom he can act upon his darker urges ...
Well. If he plays his cards right, being able to blackmail the King of Faerghus down the line could prove itself pretty beneficial to his various causes. When he catches up to the prince Yuri brushes a lock of hair back behind his ear to expose the side of his throat as he speaks: )
Good job out there today — and I mean that House Leader to House Leader. I'm pretty sure Balthus would have been a gonner if you hadn't taken out the guys in the bushes.
( Forgive him, Balthus — but you did kind of charge head-first into a six-man trap. Yuri chuckles lightly, though, apparently unconcerned by the idea of his closest friend in mortal peril, before slanting a gently suggestive smile towards Dimitri. )
If you've got a minute later on, you should swing by Abyss. There's something I'd like to show you — providing you're feeling suitably open-minded.
( A beat. )
Ask for me by name, yeah? My goons know who to bring to me.
no subject
When he does well on missions like these — when he fights with all the strength and power he has in him — it means he's kept people safe. He's kept his loved ones alive. It means he's avoided another tragedy. It means he won't have to see someone else's head sever from their shoulders every time he closes his eyes.
It was necessary. They were brigands and bandits. The church condoned it.
The bloodlust in his veins will have quieted by the time they reach Garreg Mach again. It always does. He always manages to draw it back in and bottle it up, no matter how out of hand he'd let it get on the battlefield. The stench of blood always leaves his nostrils eventually. He stops craving. He's not the mindless boar that Felix always calls him. He's not, he's not, he's not.
The professor ordered it. It was a training mission. It was necessary.
He is the heir of the throne of Faerghus, the last direct descendant in the Blaiddyd bloodline. He must be better than this. He must keep control of himself. If he just goes through the motions — if he takes all the right actions — he just has to observe all the right forms until it passes. Until someday he really is the noble he's supposed to be.
Goddess, he's trying so hard to be what he's supposed to be —
But then suddenly someone's talking to him, the voice like a fishhook dragging him out of the depths of his thoughts, and when he looks in the direction of the sound, he's still a little wild-eyed at first, before the familiarity of conversation reminds him of his manners.]
O-Oh. Ah — Yuri, forgive me, I didn't hear you approach.
[The stimulation of a friendly face helps, a little, with keeping him engaged and out of the reach of the whispering voices that threaten to drag him down into the tempest of their demands. Conversation is habitual, and lordly manners are practically a reflex. It'll help to ground him, to talk with Yuri. It'll help him to make the transition back from the howls of battle to the calm decorum of the monastery.]
Please, it was nothing. Your Wolves are a great asset to the Blue Lions in battle; if anything, I should be the one extending my own thanks.
[He lets out a slow breath, watching the way Yuri's fingers skim around his ear, how they drag carelessly down the column of his neck where his uniform and armor don't obscure it. His own collar fits tightly; all of a sudden he's aware of its press against his Adam's apple, the way the stiffness of it feels a little like a leash.
Maybe it would be better, he thinks suddenly, if he were to put off his return to Garreg Mach a little while longer. Abyss is...rougher. More informal. Perhaps it'd be better to idle a while there, on the pretext of a meeting with another House Leader, to let his blood cool before subjecting himself again to the scrutinizing holiness of the Lady Rhea — and the professor.]
Your offer is an intriguing one, I'll admit. But surely there's no need for any "goons". Or is this less of a social call than you're suggesting?
no subject
( So, then. This might work after all. Yuri notes the artificially slow way Dimitri releases his breath, feels the weight of his gaze following the line of his throat, but doesn't acknowledge it beyond offering a playful little wink. It shouldn't seem particularly suspicious: Yuri's behaviour is no more or less flirtatious than he'd be at the best of times, but then Dimitri hasn't had a great deal of exposure to the Trickster thus far.
Poor guy. )
Actually, it's probably more of a social call than an individual such as yourself is used to — but you're just gonna have to wait and see what I mean by that.
( He teases, before giving him a gentle nudge with his elbow. )
... What I will say is that you seem like the kind of guy who could use a little company after a fight. No need to unwind on your own if you don't have to.
( Still, Yuri can't help himself from peppering the conversation with little clues, if only to pique Dimitri's interest and leave him to wind himself up as he tries to figure out what he might mean. This might be a business play on Yuri's end, to be sure, but there's no reason he can't enjoy himself while he does it. )
Come after six, yeah? I'll be waiting.
( Yuri flicks his fingers in an easy 'goodbye' before letting himself hang back for his Wolves — although it isn't until they're back in the depths of Abyss that he tugs Balthus aside to reveal the plan he's set in motion. If this works, he could have the future King of Faerghus eating from the palm of his hand; Dimitri is almost desperately generous, and tries so hard to be as kind and accommodating as can be, which means that twist of darkness Yuri's seen flickering behind those unfocused blue eyes ...
It's a weakness, and it's only a matter of time before someone else realises they can exploit it. Might as well be him, right? For the betterment of the people of Abyss — and not some horrid scheme from a pathetic noble trying to beg more power and privileges?
The rest of his afternoon is spent bathing and beautifying himself. It's a ritual Hapi and Coco will have seen enough times to at least have some idea of what's going on; they aren't stupid, but there's also no reason to bring them in on a scheme that could cause them harm. He'd exclude Balthus, too, were the nature of their relationship not somewhat different — which is how the Undefeated King of Anal finds himself helping Yuri to stretch himself open and soften up his hole as they bicker over who gets the bedroom for the night.
In the end, Yuri gives up the dorm and pays off the Seer for use of her chambers — funds that he's tempted to tell Balthus will be added to his debt (for all he has no real intention of doing so). By the time six o'clock rolls around Yuri is slicked up, sweetly scented, and set up with a pot of chamomile tea, which he idly checks on as he waits for Dimitri to make his appearance. )
no subject
He doesn't begrudge them the formality, of course. He doesn't care about Dedue any less just because he's never been able to convince him to use his name. He's fond of Ashe no matter how much he's the prince first and a fellow Lion second in the little archer's eyes. Everyone is kind to him, in their ways, and he appreciates it like he's supposed to, but —
But that hangs so heavy over all of it. Supposed to. All of them, behaving as they're supposed to.
That's why it stuns him that for those few seconds, Yuri doesn't. He naturally positions them as equals, even when he's using the right words and observing the right forms — he says your Highness like it's a term of affection instead of a title, he asserts himself as a House Leader in his own right just as Dimitri is head of his, he refers to him as a guy like you like he knows him, like what he is matters just as much as who he is.
And that's why he's just crazy enough to go. Because Yuri invites him for a social call and makes it sound like it really will be social. Because he asks if Dimitri wants company and he
and he
oh goddess he doesn't want to be alone with his responsibilities and ghosts right now.
But at least he only has to make it until six. It'll give him time to calm down, somewhat, and to go through his usual methodical process of cleaning and putting away his armor, of rinsing off the sweat and stench of battle. He should eat something, really, even though he'll derive no pleasure from it. And if it's a social call, then a gift is probably in order — a pair of riding boots, perhaps. Or maybe he's got an owl feather around somewhere that would do. Or —
Well, at least he's got plenty to keep him occupied until the appointed hour.
He sneaks down into Abyss at a little after six, determined not to be formally punctual while still respecting the hour, and sure enough, there are plenty of goons around that he can ask for directions. On the other hand, there's also Balthus, who he'll feel considerably less foolish approaching, and his comrade-in-arms flashes him a boisterous grin and a clap on the shoulder before pointing him in the right direction and heading off himself for a drink at the Wilted Rose.
He seems pleased with himself. Dimitri idly wonders why.
But it's a short walk to his destination, an alcove done up in rich blue drapery that's a little too close to Faerghus blue for Dimitri's attempts at commoner comfort, and when he pokes his head in, he's relieved to find Yuri already there and waiting, but not impatiently so.]
Hello.
["Hello". He's such an idiot. Swallowing back a flash of self-consciousness, he steps inside and holds out a box containing a rather humble but utilitarian whetstone — Yuri uses a sword in battle, it's practical, it's friendly — as his peace offering.]
I hope this is "after six" enough to suffice.
no subject
I'd say it's perfect timing.
( Yuri replies, an easy smirk on his lips as he rises to greet him. A flicker of surprise crosses his features when Dimitri offers him that small box; it hadn't occurred to him that in putting them on even footing he might see fit to treat him like he'd treat a peer, but then he supposes the guy tries so hard to be proper he'd probably have brought a gift even if Yuri had been a servant. )
A gift? C'mon — you're spoiling me, Your Highness.
( He teases, taking the box from Dimitri as he gestures for him to join him in taking a seat. If anything the gift makes this feel a little more like the transactions of his past in Enbarr: sure, the nobles he entertained would pay him well for his services, but many of them would also shower him with gifts and jewellery in order to maintain the pretence of some kind of secret relationship. Yuri rarely kept those little trinkets — he'd sell them on and use the money buy food and supplies for the other street kids — but that, he supposes, is what made them truly valuable.
The whetstone, on the other hand, isn't worth very much at all. Unlike his clients, Dimitri isn't attempting to trick himself into believing some kind of lie, nor is he trying to buy his affections due to misplaced jealousy. Instead he's given Yuri something that he'll be able to make good use of: something to make him more efficient, more deadly, and a better soldier on the battlefield.
Yuri smiles as he fingers the stone, before setting the box aside and lifting those violet eyes to the prince. )
Thank you, Dimitri.
( Dimitri. His name, not his title.
Yuri pours them each a cup of tea, one fine hand resting lightly atop the teapot's lid to keep it in place as he pours, before setting it down again and adding a generous dollop of honey to his own. )
I'm afraid all I've got to offer you in return is tea ...
( Yuri drops a playful wink in his direction, before lifting his own cup to his lips to take a careful sip. )
For the time being, in any case.
( A moment of silence stretches between them as Yuri observes Dimitri from over the rim of his cup. He really is incredibly handsome — he'll grow into a fine man someday, if he lives that long — and amusement touches the corners of his lips as he sets his tea back down on the saucer. )
So. You're probably wondering what it is I wanted to show you, huh? Truth be told it's actually more of an ... experience, than anything else. And before you ask — don't let the surroundings give you any wild ideas.
( A chuckle. )
I'm no more a seer than Balthus or Sylvain.
( Yuri cocks his head just so, the softening balm on his lips glinting in the low light as he smiles. )
Go ahead and correct me if I'm wrong, but ... it seems to me that fighting winds you up with a little extra energy, huh? Energy that you might not have a proper outlet for after the fact.
no subject
Between that and the tea, he relaxes a little; when he reaches for his cup and the scent of chamomile reaches his nose, his lingering tension eases all the more. Oh, it's his favorite. Could it be that Yuri somehow knew? Perhaps he'd been talking to the professor, or...
Or, no, that's insane. Maybe it's just a lucky guess. Whatever it is, he's grateful for it.]
This is my favorite, actually. The smell is nostalgic.
[Nostalgic enough that he can almost remember what things taste like. Regardless, he has a few moments before conversation begins, and he takes his time to relish them, closing his eyes to properly appreciate the aroma of the tea before sipping lightly at it and letting the heat wash over his tongue.
It's a good thing, too. Because when Yuri mentions a little extra energy, he almost tenses right back up again for fear that he's been found out, a caged animal come under scrutiny — but at the very least he's got the tea to help keep himself calm, and his throat wet, and his voice even.]
I think that's how any soldier feels. Most men feel the rush of battle; it's a large part of what keeps them alive in such a dangerous situation. I doubt it's unusual to think that such a rush wouldn't merely disappear the instant a battle concludes.
[But.]
Thus far you've offered me an outlet and companionship. If you're leading up to the suggestion that we train together, you didn't need to go to all this formality, I assure you.
no subject
( Dimitri's (incorrect) assumption gets one of those easy smiles from Yuri: )
Train with you? Please — you'd have me flat on my back in seconds.
( Which isn't necessarily true — Dimitri has the strength, certainly, but Yuri is all speed and accuracy — but he's never been one to boast about his strengths in the same way that some of the other students might. In Yuri's experience it can be pretty beneficial to be underestimated; there's nothing quite like seeing your opponent realise they've made a terrible mistake.
With Dimitri's free hand resting on the table it's easy for Yuri to reach out and touch the prince's armoured wrist; he might not feel the warmth of his skin against his fingertips, but the weight of the gesture is symbolic enough that it hardly matters. Dark lashes slide low as Yuri lets the side of his boot slide against the curve of Dimitri's ankle: )
What I'm offering is an outlet, companionship ... but of the more intimate variety.
( He smiles, but there's nothing mocking or teasing in his expression this time. The last thing he wants is for Dimitri to misunderstand, or to think he's being strung along for a joke. )
With the right person you'll find it can be just as satisfying as training — even more so, more often than not.
no subject
...
Wait.
There's a gap in time between the conclusion and the appreciation of what he's just concluded, not unlike the way that lightning flashes before it's chased by a roll of thunder. He makes the connection between all the little inviting things Yuri does — the softening of his eyes to show off the painted lids, the brush of his fingertips, the nudge of his boot in such a way that puts his leg against Dimitri's beneath the table — and recognizes a come-on for what it is. It's just...it doesn't quite land, at first, that he's being...propositioned.
Sex. With him. And this all originated fresh off the battlefield, when Yuri made the conscious choice to tempt him down into Abyss with secrets and promises, dangling an enigma in front of his eyes until Yuri could get him alone and touch his wrist and offer —
Sex.
It's not just that it's a brazen offer, in and of itself. It's that the prospect of sex at all is something that's always been so wrapped up in duty and noble obligation, finding a suitable bride and siring heirs for the continuance of his line, that very little of it actually sounds particularly enticing. To say nothing of how the topic has been tainted by Sylvain's antics, or his own misgivings, or the associations he has between his own wide palm and the shame of getting lost in the smell of blood in the air — or worse, the professor's affectionate gaze.
He swallows hard.]
How differently things work in Abyss. Is that your...post-battle custom?
[He's being so careful with his words that two things immediately become apparent: he's trying very hard not to offend Yuri with all the diplomacy he's been raised in since birth, and he has absolutely no idea what's happening to him right now.]
You could do better. Surely. I doubt I'm anyone's..."right person".
no subject
... An Abyssian post-battle custom?
( Yuri exhales a soft breath that might sound a little like a chuckle of Dimitri's listening for it, although it's at least apparent that the prince isn't exactly being laughed at. Laughed ... beside. That's nicer, right? )
Forgive me, Dimitri — but it's not exactly unique to us down here. A lot of people find a quick tumble to be the best way to clear your head.
( His smile curves a little wider. )
And hey, the "right person" might not mean what you'd think in matters like this. Status, propriety, even how well you get along in class ... when you're fucking for the sake of fucking, none of that really matters.
( A beat. Yuri doesn't move his hand from Dimitri's, but instead lets the pads stroke over the back of the finely-wrought metal. )
You see? It's not about me being able to do better.
( Mischief touches his smile. )
It's about me thinking that bedding you might help you — and me — feel good for a while.
no subject
And does that set him at ease, from the familiarity, or make him more nervous that he's actually finding himself persuaded by the rationale? A mutually beneficial outcome. Fu...fuc...having relations for the sake of having relations, and nothing more.
Yuri is, strangely, very pretty when he smiles like he's up to something.]
You're very determined, aren't you.
[He doesn't like how breathless the remark comes out, betraying just how tempted he is by the proposition already.]
I'm...still, I'm unsure it would be appropriate. F-For me. I have obligations that I must adhere to, even at the expense of my own satisfaction...
[Goddess, his resolve is fracturing, and he can feel it.]
no subject
( The thing Dimitri doesn't seem to understand is that for a whore — and a good one, at that — the proposition itself is a fluid, ever-changing thing, that will always be tailored in one way or another to suit the other person's needs. Yuri has been doing this for long enough to make an educated guess at the best way in past Dimitri's resolve: not flattery or simpering, or trying to spin it into some kind of fairy-tale between the two of them, but ...
Simple practicality. A transaction between two people for a mutually beneficial result.
Easy. )
Obligations ... that taking another boy to bed will somehow impact?
( He raises an eyebrow. )
I mean, I know my looks can be deceiving sometimes— ( at this, he winks ) but you won't find a woman's parts beneath my trousers. I can't push out a bastard claim to the throne in nine month's time and have you revealed as an irresponsible leader — or worse.
( Yuri pauses for a moment, curling his index finger against his chin for further effect: )
In fact, when you look at it like that ... you could almost say that bedding another boy is the responsible thing to do, huh?
( Finally, he leans away from Dimitri so that he can take another sip of his honeyed tea. Pushing the matter too hard would look both desperate and suspicious, and besides: leaving that kernel of thought to dig itself into the back of Dimitri's mind will do more to persuade him than words ever could. )
... Of course, it's entirely up to you. I'm happy sharing only my tea, if that's all you'll have of me, but ... the offer is open, Your Highness.
( And this time the way his lips shape his title seems almost playful — gently teasing. )
no subject
Loog and Kyphon, the tales go, even — well, everyone knows they were inseparable. That bond is veritably the whole reason he even has a Fraldarius of his own to begin with, as his father did before him.
So — what harm could it even do, really? Abyss is no independent political territory of its own that he runs the risk of offending; Yuri doesn't command an army that he could raise against the Kingdom for some perceived slight. And if there even was anything to blackmail him with, well...surely it couldn't be any worse than what's said about him already, and if nothing else, at least a sex scandal would make people stop talking about his choice to make his retainer a man from Duscur. At least for a while.]
I don't want to be called "your Highness" by someone I'm...
[He bites his lip, but it's too late to take the words back. Not that, on second pass, he really wants to take them back as it is.]
I must warn you that, because of my Crest, I am not always suited to...careful work. I could hurt you. If I were to lose control, I could...
[Beneath the table, inside his trousers, his cock twitches enough to make him shiver.]
You must take every precaution. I don't want to risk hurting you.
no subject
( ... Got him.
Yuri smiles faintly, making sure not to let any self-satisfaction creep into his expression, before sliding the side of his foot up the curve of Dimitri's calf as he fingers the side of his cup. )
I wouldn't worry about that, Dimitri.
( That smile turns reassuring. )
I mean, I've seen what your Crest can do on the battlefield. I wouldn't have brought you here tonight if I didn't think I could handle it — or if I thought it made you any less suitable for this.
( There's a moment of consideration, then: )
Have you lain with another boy before?
( While it's tempting to throw out some names — Sylvain, Dedue, perhaps even Felix — Yuri knows better than to bring up a guy's companions while easing him into the idea of sex. Besides, there's a very real possibility that invoking the Faerghan nobles would give him cold feet about the whole thing, and so instead of making guesses he contents himself with unclasping his half-cloak and draping it over the back of his chair. )
Or a girl?
( Just because the guy has 'virgin' written all over him doesn't mean that's actually the case, after all, and Yuri wants to know what he's going to be dealing with. )
no subject
[Yuri's boot rubbing along his calf suddenly seems to draw all of his attention, yanking it away from the table and down to where there's pressure and the soft caress of his trouser leg's fabric, all interesting texture and sensation that shouldn't be gripping him as hard as they are, somehow.
Aware that he's close to a mistake, he tries to cover it by clearing his throat. It doesn't altogether work.]
In Faerghus it's custom for nobles to, ah. Witness the consummation of a marriage. I've been present. Occasionally.
[Also, he's friends with Sylvain, but that goes without saying, so he doesn't say it.]
I may not boast the experience of some, but I'm not ignorant. I'm aware of the differences, when it's a man.
no subject
( Yuri just nods, before rising to his feet so that he can properly close and lock the door. It isn't usual for the Seer's quarters to be closed — she makes a point of always being available to those who need help in matters they can't bring to the Goddess — but every now and then, when Yuri as a lot of money riding on a tryst and he loses a bickering match with Balthus ... )
You nobles and your customs.
( He sighs, but there's amusement sparkling in his eyes as he approaches the table again. There's a bed tucked against the other side of the room, plush with mismatched pillows and gauzy drapery that some people might find inviting. In Yuri's opinion, it's a bit much, but then his own bed is a comfortable nest of Balthus's cast-offs and worn, threadbare blankets.
He isn't really in any position to be criticising someone else's sleeping space. )
Anyway, luckily for you? Boasters don't really do it for me.
( He teases, extending a palm for Dimitri to take so that he can help him to his feet. Yuri might be older but the prince is already a good few inches taller than him — something the omega in him silently appreciates as he moves to unfasten the front of his uniform. Beneath it, Yuri wears a thin ivory shirt tucked into the high waist of his pants; it's a little sheer in the low light, and pink nipples are just visible beneath the fabric as he tosses the dark outer layer to the floor. )
Why don't you take a seat on the bed, hm?
( A hand lifts to cup Dimitri's cheek with an easy smirk. )
And I'll show you what you're getting yourself into.
( Ba-dun-tshhh. )
no subject
[And that may well be the first non-anxious thing he's said since he made his way down into Abyss. The hurdle, it seems, had been getting him past his own hangups and misgivings; once surmounted, he's far more amenable to going along with Yuri's flow and seeing where it leads him.
(He hadn't noticed the bed at first, truthfully. Now, as he's led toward it, he isn't altogether sure how he could've missed it.)
But he lets Yuri guide him, amicable almost to the point of being properly called pliant, and when he settles down on the bed, he's thankfully less rigid than he was at tea — his knees slightly spread instead of jammed tightly together, his spine relaxed, his arms resting on the tops of his legs.]
May I touch you?
[He's so polite, this future king.]
Or — no. No, of course you should lead. I'm sorry; but please direct me as you see fit.
no subject
( Yuri closes the distance between them to the point where he's within touching distance - but Dimitri probably knows better than to think this means he's going to get whatbhe wants right away. That cute polite streak of his ... Yuri can't help but want to put it to the test, just to see if there's more to the prince than the sense of propriety he's clinging on to even now. )
No touching yet.
( He confirms, his eyes on Dimitri as he pulls the shirt from where it's tucked into his trousers. A moment later sees it unfastened, peeled away, discarded, before Yuri toes his way out of his boots and stocking to leave him standing there in just his trousers. )
... I may have been a little creative with the truth, regarding what I said earlier.
( He confesses - giving a very good impression of someone who's genuinely apologetic. Yuri's fingers skim over the fastenings of his trousers before popping them open and pushing them down, revealing soft, bare hips, gently rounded, between which sits the neatly waxed vee of his pussy.
Yuri is an omega. )
Still a man's parts, but an omega man's parts.
( He says wryly, placing one hand on his hip as he cocks it to let Dimitri look his fill. )
Don't get yourself all worked up about it, though, Handsome. You're not gonna take me there.
no subject
And — there, finally, Yuri stands bared before him, and honestly with the way Yuri leads his house and his battalions, Dimitri had sort of had him pegged as another alpha himself, so this comes as an unexpected revelation. He has to make himself swallow back the twinge of instinct that flutters in his gut, his alpha instincts stirred out of dormancy by the sight and scent of an omega's soft curves close enough to touch, close enough to lean forward and lick...
But the last thing he wants is for Yuri to consider him a brute of an alpha, himself. He's the heir to the throne of Faerghus, he knows how to control himself. He won't lose his manners. He'll behave.]
I see I'll have to be on my guard around your silver tongue.
[Speaking of tongues, he swallows again, trying not to scent or lean forward or act out.]
I understand, but perhaps I could...kiss you?
[Lord's kisses, they called it in the stories of Loog and Kyphon. The proper way for any alpha to treat an omega, putting their mouth and tongue to pleasurable use.]
no subject
( Yuri watches realisation melt over Dimitri's expression with an amused kind of patience, and later he'll fancy he could pinpoint the precise moment the alpha in him recognises what it's seeing. Visually, certainly, but Yuri isn't so far removed from his own biology that he doesn't feel the pull too — a deep, preening satisfaction of being in the presence of an alpha.
His pussy throbs. )
You'd put your mouth on me?
( Balthus does that for him — very enthusiastically, too — but he hadn't necessarily expected that Dimitri might want to do the same. Then again, if he was taught the ins and outs of alpha-omega behaviour from those old Faerghan fairy-tales ... )
I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.
( Yuri steps closer, his thighs perhaps more plump and inviting than the long cut of his uniform would suggest. Two fingers press gently beneath Dimitri's chin to coax him into looking up at him properly: )
Take your gloves off for me, hm? Then you can touch.
no subject
But this — this rouses an entirely new instinct in him. He knows it the instant Yuri's bare pussy twinges, knows it on an instinctual level he can't even begin to try to describe. He knows it because he's genetically programmed to be attuned to it, a biological imperative to assert strength and claim and mate.
And that rattles him a little. It's hard enough keeping his own demons in check, without the added recklessness of having a lovely soft omega standing in front of him, inviting him, tempting him toward choices he's supposed to know better than to indulge.]
Oh — yes. Yes, the gloves, of course.
[It's a distraction, a point to focus on, but it doesn't last him for long. He releases the fastenings and begins to tug his gauntlets off, neatly setting them aside, but his involuntary reactions are already threatening to bubble up and expose themselves.
When he finally looks back, his hands bared and his gloves tucked away, he can't hold himself back anymore. Not entirely. Not enough.
Deep, deep in the back of his throat, he rumbles a faint and interested purr. In its way, it's the aural equivalent of a wink or a nod thrown across a crowded room, an attention-seeking noise keyed to solicit a reaction. It's a sound he's never made before; he's never had reason to. It's not a noise that alphas make at other alphas.
He can't look away — and couldn't, even without the fingers beneath his chin. Helpless to stop himself, it spills out again — rich and thick and deep, hello, have you noticed me? you should.]
no subject
( Yuri knows that sound — but Seiros, is it ever sweeter when it's coming form Dimitri. In truth he's a little surprised by how much that rumble effects him — there have been plenty of instances in which an alpha has tried to get his attention and he's brushed it off with easy disinterest — and yet there's something about the openness of his gaze, the rich sound of the purr ...
He's noticed him. The whole reason they're even here is because Yuri has noticed him — and that soft sound stirs at those omega urges he goes to lengths to hide behind closed doors. In truth he doesn't mind the people he has sex with knowing what he is — he certainly isn't ashamed it, much as certain echelons of society might sometimes prefer him to be — but more than anything else?
It's not good business to be outed as an omega when you're running an underground gang. Better to keep it to moments like this, when Yuri can put himself on his hands and knees and present to an alpha without having to worry about appearances.
His own purr is pitched a little higher than Dimitri's. It's a soft, inviting response of yes, I've noticed you, and I've chosen you, and Yuri exhales softly through his mouth as he begins to pick up the thick warmth of the prince's scent. For all he's working hard to remain in control here there's nothing quite like the aroma of a wanting alpha, and Yuri swallows hard as his hands skim up his torso to cup the just-barely soft flesh surrounding hard, pink nipples. )
D'you want to see?
( He doesn't wait for an answer. Yuri slides onto the bed and shifts so he's laying back against the decorative pillows, his thighs parted and a knee bent to coax Dimitri's attention to the hot pink slit between his legs. It's plump and soft, slightly damp with arousal as his body reacts to his proximity to Dimitri, and it's waxed smooth but for a pretty strip of violet hair. )
Just being around you makes me feel good, you know.
( He murmurs — and honestly, too, before letting another purr roll between them as he opens his legs a little wider. )
Do you feel good too?
no subject
Dimitri knows that Yuri is in front of him, unclothed, experienced well beyond his own measure. The alpha in him sees it the opposite way, perceiving only a lithe and supple omega signaling its own desires, waiting for him to do as both their natures direct.
He tries to remind himself that it's Dimitri who needs to keep the upper hand, here. It's Dimitri who has a reputation to protect. Dimitri who has to walk back out of this encounter and go about the rest of his life.
The alpha has no such concerns. It merely wants what it's already decided it's entitled to.]
Seeing doesn't even come close to what I want.
[It's like someone else said it, someone else with a dark and gravelly voice, rich with desire.]
I...m-my apologies. I'm keeping you waiting.
[He slides a little closer along the mattress, edging near enough that he can reach out with his bare hand and curve it behind Yuri's raised knee, slowly and almost respectfully leaning in to touch a kiss to the inside of his thigh.
He needs to go slowly, he reminds himself. Slowly and carefully, and stay in control.]
Your scent is very pretty.
[He risks another kiss, then another, slowly working his way up Yuri's leg toward the tantalizing heat waiting for him.]
no subject
( Ah.
That voice.
Yuri has caught glimpses of that version of Dimitri as he's cut a path through the battlefield; he's seen the wildfire in his eyes, the depth of his need for blood, and he feels his clit jump in response to that rough tone that fills the space between them.
The omega in him laments the moment Dimitri's sense of propriety kicks in a moment later and squashes that part of himself back down — but it's too late for him to try to get away with it. His pussy is wet, slick and glossy from the low rumble of Dimitri's words, and Yuri has to let his eyes slide shut for a moment or two so that he can gather himself again. )
... Mm. You think so? Constance makes me a tonic that helps make it less strong ... y'know, keeping up with appearances, that whole thing.
( There's a reason Dimitri had pegged Yuri as an alpha, after all, and he's needed a little help in making sure that's how he's perceived. It isn't surprising that the prince can detect his true scent now — he's laying in front of him with his legs spread, for Serios' sake — but it'd be even prettier if Yuri weren't going to all the effort of keeping it as muted as possible.
The line of kisses winding its way up Yuri's thigh makes it hard to focus on such things. His teeth skim over a plump lower lip as he props himself up on a bent elbow: )
A Lord's kiss from the prince of Faerghus ...
( Dimitri isn't the only one who's up on his raunchy lore. A playful smile touches Yuri's lips as he strokes his fingers through gold-spun hair with his free hand: )
You're gonna make me the envy of every omega this side of Sreng.
no subject
[He edges closer with another kiss, closer still, taking his time but also carefully working up his nerve; what he's about to do, he's going to attempt based purely on instinct and the stories he's heard all his life, and one or two in-person demonstrations viewed from far away and behind the tasteful obstruction of a gauzy curtain. Perhaps he has no talents, and Yuri's talk of envy is premature; still, both sides of him want to try, the prince to live up to the legend they're spinning out between them, and the alpha out of simpler pressing desire to claim the omega before him in whatever way he can.
But all Yuri's reactions are positive ones, and help his confidence along. It feels nice to have his hair caressed, to be close enough to catch his scent from behind the blockers. It's a pity he won't be able to taste him, defective alpha that he is. He already looks so wet and inviting.
So he moves at last, lips parting faintly as he does finally bring them to touch Yuri's slit in a perfect imitation of a kiss — pressure first, then a tip of his chin and a brush of his tongue, then again and deeper before the first one has even really concluded, the flat of his tongue parting the slick folds as it drags past them, slow and winding wet itself.]
no subject
( There's a tremulous quality to the sigh that leaves Yuri when Dimitri finally puts his mouth on him; the sweet pressure of lips that tilts into to something more as he explores the idea of a real, true kiss. His thigh twitches as he does his best to keep his hips still for the young prince: he's new to this, he reminds himself, and there's a darkness to this alpha that Balthus doesn't share ...
It could make him unpredictable, and pushing too hard during such a moment could have frustrating consequences. )
... Just like that.
( He praises him, unable to keep the syrup-softness from his voice as his omega nature begins to truly take hold. It's always like this when he fucks an alpha: Yuri can play at being in charge until lips, cock, or fingers find his pussy, at which point he slowly begins to unravel until he's a keening mess of want.
The fact that it's happening a little more quickly than usual? Well. That passes him by entirely.
Yuri sinks back against the pillows as he bends his knees to frame Dimitri's head between this thighs. It always feels so good to give in to this part of himself — to let an alpha worship the petal-soft folds that make him different — and he tilts his hips up towards him in offering as he resists squirming against the sheets. Violet eyeshadow catches the light his eyes slip closed for a moment, another of those tender purrs rumbling up from the very back of his throat. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)