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Before Mercedes.
After Mercedes.
It’s stupid, how easily she can divide up her time.
Before Mercedes, those hundreds and thousands of years’ worth of mindless sex and hellish ecstasy where Byleth had nothing to worry about but her next lay. After Mercedes, where she has to think about stupid things like feelings and guilt and desire for something other than her own pleasure. Worry for something—someone—other than herself.
But as upset as those stupid things make Byleth feel, she can’t really imagine what it’d be like if she just up and left Mercedes. In theory, it’d be easy! It’s not like she’s by Mercedes’ side all the time. But in reality, she can’t shake the woman from her mind.
And it’s not like she hasn’t tried! Rebound after rebound—none of them have managed to dislodge Mercedes’ firm grasp on the demon. It doesn’t matter what they look like, what they feel like beneath her touch; all of them somehow morph into Mercedes’ soft, nurturing figure, and all of them gently chastise Byleth for hurting her so badly.
Even the man beneath her right now can’t distract her, and to Byleth’s disgust, he seems to have noticed it.
“Something on your mind?” he gasps as Byleth furiously grinds down on his dick. “I mean, I don’t really know you, but you look like—”
“Shut up,” Byleth growls, doubling her efforts and quickening the gyration of her hips. She’s not there for a conversation, after all. She’s there to fill a quota, nothing more. To her delight and her simple satisfaction, the night’s prey decides to do exactly as instructed and snaps his mouth shut. Byleth smirks at the blush that rises high onto his already ruddy cheeks; it’s almost like he’s into it. And since she’s significantly invested in getting the encounter over, Byleth figures that she can work with that.
It doesn’t take too long for him to come—crying some other man’s name into the night air when he does—but once he falls back onto his bed with nothing but mindless ecstasy and exhaustion to his name, Byleth slides off of him. He twitches beneath her in a fit of overstimulation, his nerves clearly spent, but Byleth searches her soul deeply, decides she doesn’t give a damn about his aftercare, and with a flick of her hand, opens up the portal that will take her back home.
“You should be honest with, uh, whatever his name is,” she comments off-handedly to him as she combs her fingers through her thick, sex-tousled hair in an attempt to tame it. “Who knows, maybe you won’t fuck it up.”
“And ruin it?” the man mumbles, one arm haphazardly tossed over his face. If she looks closely, Byleth can almost imagine that she sees a stray tear winding its way down his cheek. “He’s my best friend.”
“There’s more than one way to ruin a good thing.” Out of nowhere, her fingers come across a tangle, and as if to punish herself for speaking up, she tugs on it with a ferocity that makes tears of pain well up in her eyes. “Believe me. I know all about it.”
The man tries to say something else, she thinks, but having done her good deed for the day, Byleth saunters into her portal and lets it wick her away.
As she hurtles through the expanse of space and time, Byleth resents her method of transport. There’s nothing for her to do, nobody for her to distract herself with, and she’s left alone with her thoughts, with the absolute disgust for herself that’s been fueling her for the past month. Staying away from Mercedes and fucking other random people are the only ways she knows how to punish herself. Sure, her whole thing might be finding sexual pleasure in the pain, but every time she remembers the hurt, aching light that she’d seen in Mercedes’ eyes when they’d parted ways, it instantly kills off any arousal that Byleth might have managed to work herself up into.
Out of nowhere, Byleth feels a jerk on her magic, and with a frown, she knows that the portal’s exit has been adjusted. There shouldn’t be any reason for her portal to be adjusted—she’s just going to Hell, after all—and she can’t think of anyone she’s given summoning instructions to. Not recently, anyway.
All she can do is wait until she reaches her destination, which to her relief, takes barely a few seconds more.
Byleth steps out of the portal with a cool, unaffected confidence and a long, lazy blink. No matter who’s called her, she’s sure that their time together is going to end the same way—with sex—and that certainty is comforting.
The ground is soft and fuzzy beneath her feet, and Byleth looks down to see that tufts of a simple cream-colored carpet sprout from beneath her toes. In the back of her mind, Byleth realizes that the color and shape of the carpet is familiar. What’s more, she faintly recognizes the faint tea stain that’s been washed out of a corner of the fabric with care. What she doesn’t realize until she tries to step off of the carpet, though, is the fact that the tea stain is no longer alone.
She doesn’t even make it off of the round carpet before her foot comes up against an invisible barrier. Brushing against it sends an electrical crackle across her skin, one that’s just intense enough to be uncomfortable without causing her any actual
“Ow!” With a hiss of frustration, Byleth hops up onto one foot and clutches her injured one in her hands. When she looks down to check that she’s not bleeding or anything, she notices that the carpet’s been covered, scrawled across with some sort of dye. And when she takes a closer look, she realizes with a growing apprehension that not only is she standing on the rug that used to be spread on the ground beneath Mercedes’ bed, the weird little scribbles that cover the rug look suspiciously similar to the markings that comprise a traditional summoning circle.
“Oh no,” she hears as she attempts to scuff the summoning circle with her foot. “Byleth, are you alright?”
Byleth looks up, her heart pounding in her ears. She knows that voice. She knows that voice intimately, and there’s no question in her mind as to who it belongs to.
“Why would you bring me here,” she growls as slowly, slowly, she turns her head to the side. And slowly, slowly, Mercedes comes into view.
She looks absolutely beautiful, Byleth notes, as she sits cross-legged on the ground beside the summoning circle, which is a weird thing for her to immediately notice. Perhaps more importantly, she looks none the worse for wear—she’s a little more gaunt than normal, and there’s not as much of that general love for humanity sparkling in her eyes as there once had been. Even so, Byleth is overcome by a brief flash of relief; maybe she shouldn’t have been so worried about Mercedes.
“Let me go,” Byleth demands, before Mercedes even has the chance to explain herself.
“No.” Mercedes folds her arms over her chest, her long-lashed eyes narrowing as she, in turn, inspects Byleth. Feeling over-exposed for perhaps the first time in her life, Byleth scowls. Unaffected, Mercedes continues, “You never came back, Byleth. I was worried about you.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Byleth plops down onto the carpet, but turns so that she doesn’t have to actually look at Mercedes. She crosses her arms over her chest and deepens her scowl. “You didn’t let me come back and sleep with you.”
“I was angry, Byleth,” Mercedes explains. “I felt betrayed, like you’d used me for sex for the sole purpose of infuriating the Goddess.”
“But that’s what I do,” Byleth protests, unsure as to what Mercedes isn’t understanding. “I just have sex.”
“Is that all, Byleth?” Byleth wrinkles her nose as she hears Mercedes chuckle off to the side. “Are you trying to tell me that you treat everyone like this? That you come back and revisit everyone you have sex with?”
Byleth opens her mouth, searching for the words, and coming up empty, snaps her mouth closed. Because as reluctant as she is to admit it, Mercedes is right. There isn’t anyone else that she’s ever gone to visit more than once. Mercedes is special like that.
The problem is, Byleth can’t narrow down on just what it is that makes Mercedes special.
“I don’t,” she eventually grumbles, because otherwise Mercedes’ expectant gaze is just going to continue boring into the side of her head.
“Then why do you keep coming back to see me?”
“I don’t know!” Byleth rises into a crouch and whips around to face Mercedes. She curls her upper lip in an animalistic snarl and snaps, “Don’t you think I would tell you if I knew, Mercedes? All I know is my chest hurts every time I think about you, and it hurts so bad that I can’t do anything!”
Mercedes falls silent for a moment. Then she tilts her head to the side and, with furrowed brows, thoughtfully asks, “What do you mean, your chest hurts?”
“It means, every time I’m screwing someone else, all I can think of is you,” Byleth says, her voice low and shaking with frustration. “I can’t do my job, the one thing I was ever made to do! There’s nothing else for me.” She draws out the last few words into a staccato, spitting out each word with all the anger she can muster. “Nothing.”
Suddenly ashamed of her outburst, she drops her gaze to the ground, but she still finds the energy to say, “You probably don’t know what that feels like, O Saint Mercedes.”
“Do you really think so, Byleth?” Mercedes asks, her voice quiet—like she’s been hurt by Byleth’s accusation.
Good. She’d wanted to hurt Mercedes.
But instead of feeling some sort of satisfaction, like she’d wanted, Byleth finds herself overwhelmed by an all-consuming feeling of guilt. Reluctantly, the succubus looks up towards Mercedes, and she sees that the woman’s bright blue eyes are bright and shining with tears.
“How do you think I’ve been feeling ever since that night in the church?” she asks. “Ever since I chose to follow the Goddess, I’ve tried my hardest to follow the writings of the saints. I’ve tried to not blaspheme, I’ve tried to help everyone that comes across my path, and yet all it takes to speak up against Her is—is sex with a demon. With you, Byleth. How do you think it makes me feel that a demon, the very antithesis of the Goddess, managed to—”
Mercedes’ voice chokes up, and while her chin wobbles with effort, she doesn’t drop her chin in shame. No, she meets Byleth’s eyes with a thinly veiled heartache welling up alongside her tears, and her simple smile crushes Byleth.
“Is my faith really so weak,” Mercedes whispers, “that something so simple as loving another woman—even a succubus—is enough to break it?”
Byleth sighs. “If it makes you feel any better,” she grumbles, “remember I was sent here in the first place because your faith is so fucking strong. I was sent to you specifically to corrupt you.”
Mercedes just stares at her, though, with eyes wide like an owl’s, and Byleth stares right back. Then Mercedes lifts her brows meaningfully, like there’s something she said that Byleth was supposed to pick up on, and Byleth squints as she tries to recall just what it was that Mercedes had said. Which shouldn’t be so hard as it is, but now that she’s been put on the spot, she finds herself clutching at her hair, tangling her fingers in the clumps and tugging on her horns as she tries to—
“Loving another woman?” Byleth finally hazards, testing the water. “You want to figure out this whole thing we have, because you’re in love with another woman.” That makes sense. Mercedes is just the sort of goody two-shoes that would make sure to wrap things up with a side piece before getting it on in another, better relationship.
But when she checks with Mercedes to make sure that she’s on the right track, she sees that the woman is only shaking her head.
“You really don’t understand anything, do you?” she says beneath her breath, then she meets Byleth’s eyes. Byleth feels the urge to shrivel away beneath the intensity of her gaze, but tugs on her horn again in an attempt to divert that feeling. “You think that after all that—I love someone else?” Mercedes shakes her head. “Byleth, I’m trying to tell you that I have feelings for you.”
Rolling her eyes, Byleth scoffs. Mercedes was obviously lying in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand; there was no way in Hell someone as beautiful and sumptuous as Mercedes could have feelings for a demon like herself. “Any feelings that you have for me,” she says, even as her heart flutters and Mercedes’ eyes bore deep into her own, “are purely physical. You know what a succubus does, Mercedes. What I do.”
“Things may have begun that way,” Mercedes says, “but please, hear me out.”
“Let me out first,” Byleth demands. “If you really—if you actually feel that way for me, then let me out of this circle.”
“Do I have your word?” Mercedes asks.
“You’d be stupid to trust the word of a demon.”
“I believe you’re more than the demon you say you are.” Mercedes leans forward and inspects the carpet her summoning circle has been drawn on. Still trying to understand the magnitude of what Mercedes just said, Byleth watches as she picks up a large pair of sharp fabric shears from the empty space beside her and, after testing them out a few times, reaches out and cuts through the carpet.
Byleth can feel the magic of the summoning circle dissipating, the ward containing her crumbling to pieces as Mercedes disrupts the components of the spell. And when that invisible wall crumbles down completely, Byleth slides onto her hands and knees and creeps forward towards the woman.
“Then why don’t you enlighten me?” she purrs. Mercedes, to her credit, doesn’t draw away in the slightest as Byleth slinks her way. “Tell me more about all these feelings you say you have for me.”
Mercedes stares at her, her expression neutral for several long, agonizing seconds until she breaks out into a smile that’s full of heartache.
“My faith wavers because I love you,” Mercedes says, leaning in so close that her breath is warm against Byleth’s skin. “I don’t know how you fail to understand that.”
Byleth’s stomach drops. Finally, she has a name to put to the way Mercedes has been tormenting her—it’s love. Even though she has that name, though, she feels so uncomfortable with the thought that she can feel anything but lust for another being that she wants nothing more than to rip the feeling out of her chest entirely and be done with the whole thing.
“Is that what this feeling is?” Byleth whispers, her voice scratchy in her throat. “Love?” The word feels foreign on her tongue, like speaking it with such reverence goes against every standard she was created to uphold. “Is that why it hurt so bad to be away from you for so long? Is that why it hurt when I hurt you?”
“Oh, Byleth.” Mercedes places a soft, chaste kiss on Byleth’s cheek, she’s so close, and a tingling feeling runs down Byleth’s spine at the sound of her name on the woman’s lips. “That’s exactly what it is.”
The kiss isn’t enough for Byleth, though—nothing chaste or pure ever has been, save for Mercedes herself—and as if by instinct, she seeks out Mercedes’ lips and claims them for her own.
She crashes into Mercedes like an avalanche, unstoppable, inevitable, and as Mercedes moans against her mouth, she knows that what she’s doing is, without a doubt, right. In contrast to the heat of their kiss, Mercedes languidly sets her arms over Byleth’s shoulders, bending them at the elbow so that she can wrap her fingers around the curves and ridges of Byleth’s horns. She tugs Byleth away then, and the dazed look in her blue eyes, the heated flush of her cheeks is nearly enough to drive the demon mad.
“Mercedes,” Byleth gasps as she searches for any shred of sense in her mind, “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” Mercedes asks, as kindly as ever.
“I don’t know how to love.” The admission is leaden upon her heart; Mercedes shakes her head.
“Everyone knows how to love, deep down inside,” she promises. “Everyone simply… does it a little bit differently.”
“Please, Mercedes,” Byleth begs, “can you show me how?”
Mercedes smiles, and Byleth decides right then and there that her smile is brighter than any sort of sun. “Of course, Byleth,” she says. “I’d like nothing more. But…” Her smile fading slightly, she glances to the side. “Maybe I should show you somewhere other than the floor of my bedroom.”
“Your bedroom, you say?” For the first time since being summoned, Byleth takes in her surroundings with a critical eye. Mercedes is right, of course—not that she’d doubted her on such a simple point—and that, thankfully, is the first easy decision Byleth has been able to make all evening. “Hold on.”
With a burst of magic and a flicker of candlelight, Byleth opens a portal. Taking a firm grasp around Mercedes’ midsection, she drags the two of them into the glowing magic, and they’re unceremoniously dumped onto Mercedes’ bed. Mercedes bursts out into laughter as her back hits the soft mattress, and Byleth takes advantage of her shock to climb upon her and straddle the human’s hips.
“Now can you show me?” Byleth asks, catching hold of Mercedes’ face between her hands and staring intently into her eyes. “I need to know, Mercedes.”
“Oh, you need to, do you?” Mercedes’ smile takes on a mischievous quality. “Why don’t you show me how badly you need it?”
“If you insist.” Running her hands up along Mercedes’ face to brush blonde hair out of her face, Byleth leans in to kiss her. Mercedes lifts her head from the pillow to deepen the connection, and her tail flicking through the air happily, Byleth finds herself pouring her whole into the kiss.
When Mercedes pulls away and lets her head fall back down, she smirks at Byleth. “I do insist, actually.”
Wrinkling her nose as she scowls, Byleth sets about the task of undressing Mercedes. She’d been too preoccupied with Mercedes’ mere existence to notice what she’s been wearing. To her delight, though, there’s not a lot at all. It’s nothing more than a simple white nightgown, like Mercedes had planned on going to bed before suddenly deciding that she’d rather try her hand at summoning a demon. It’s thin, thin enough that Byleth can see the full curve of Mercedes’ chest.
With a chuckle, she pulls her hands down so that she can properly appreciate Mercedes’ breasts. “I never got why you fixated so much on worshipping that Goddess,” she says thoughtfully as she rolls Mercedes’ nipples between her forefinger and thumb. Mercedes begins to breathe heavily beneath her; Byleth shifts her position slightly and starts undoing the line of buttons that keeps her from her prize. “But now I see you, like this, and…”
Byleth licks her lips, then teases open the front of Mercedes’ nightgown. “I can see why you want to worship another woman so badly.”
Mercedes blushes. After kissing her one more time, Byleth diverts her attention back to Mercedes’ chest. She ducks her head down to take Mercedes’ breast in her mouth, sucking on it gently before swirling her tongue around the nipple.
“Byleth,” Mercedes whispers, but Byleth bites down lightly on her nipple and whatever else she planned to say is forgotten entirely. Humming in satisfaction, she sets her hand gently down on the soft, sleek expanse of Mercedes’ stomach. She teases with the opening of the nightgown before slipping her fingers beneath the fabric entirely, but as she travels down towards the apex of Mercedes’ thighs, she comes across a surprise:
Mercedes has nothing beneath her nightgown.
“Hoping for the best, were you?” Byleth asks, flicking her gaze up to meet Mercedes’. Mercedes opens her mouth, then closes it wordlessly and averts her eyes. The blush that spreads across her face then is nothing short of divine, and Byleth chuckles. “I guess I should reward you for your… foresight.”
She twirls her fingers through the coarse, curly hairs atop Mercedes’ mound, then dips down to tease her folds. Mercedes shifts her hip and brings her thighs just far apart enough for Byleth to drag one finger between her folds before bringing it up slowly, slowly, slow-ly to flick against Mercedes’ clit.
Mercedes’ whole body tenses at Byleth’s touch, her lips parting in a tiny little ‘o,’ and Byleth knows she’s hit just the right nerve. Not that it was going to be an issue for her, being a succubus and all, but there’s a new pride to be found in making Mercedes feel sublime.
She begins to move her fingers back down, but Mercedes reaches down to grab her arm. “You’ve proven your point,” she gasps as she pulls Byleth’s arm back up. “I’m supposed to be showing you how to—”
“How to love,” Byleth breathes, her mind racing. “Right.” She’d nearly forgotten while in the throes of her routine, that this was supposed to be different.
“Right,” Mercedes confirms as she nudges Byleth off of her. Byleth rolls onto the bed beside her, and watches as Mercedes sits up. “Now, how much do you know?”
“That love hurts and I don’t like it,” Byleth says immediately. Mercedes stares at her, her lips tight-pressed, then bursts into laughter.
“I can see why you would say that, dear,” she laughs as she wipes a tear from her eye. “You’ve never felt it any other way.” She hitches the hem of her nightgown up around her waist and leans in towards Byleth.
“Don’t you know?” she whispers in her ear. “Love can be oh, so sweet.”
A chill runs down Byleth’s spine at the heat of Mercedes’ breath. Grabbing hold of Mercedes’ waist, she pulls the woman on top of her. “Then let me taste it.”
Mercedes shakes her head. “Do you remember what you did the first time you came here?” she asks, and begins moving her hips with a slow, steady rhythm. Byleth squirms beneath her, lifting her hips so she can achieve some arousal through what little cloth separates her from Mercedes’ touch.
“I fucked you,” Byleth says, her voice filled with confidence.
“Yes, you did,” Mercedes says, “and it felt very nice.” Byleth narrows her eyes, suddenly feeling patronized.
“What are you getting at?”
“I’m getting at…” Mercedes purses her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I was hoping you could pull out that magic—”
Finally, Byleth understands her partner’s desire, whether by way of her inherent magic or not, and she grins. “You want my dick,” she says, and Mercedes’ eyes light up.
“Yes,” she confirms, and finally, Byleth has a purpose once again.
Her hands firmly on Mercedes’ hips, Byleth lines her clit up against the softness of Mercedes’ core. There’s something exhilarating about experimenting with Mercedes—as worried as she is about messing up and incurring some sort of wrath on Mercedes’ part, she knows that Mercedes is horny enough that she can probably get away with more than anyone else would expect.
With a curl of her lips, Mercedes reaches down to the point where their skin connects; her fingers brush up against the bump of Byleth’s clit, and as she teases with the nerves there, Byleth breathes in deeply and nudges her magic through her body. Her clit begins to swell beneath Mercedes’ fingertips, filling up against Mercedes’ folds until, with a gentle guidance on Byleth’s part, Byleth’s length enters Mercedes.
The sensation of filling Mercedes is one that she’s missed over the course of their separation, and as she lifts her hips to bury herself to the hilt within Mercedes, Byleth lets her head fall back with a delighted sigh of fulfillment, of relief. She glances up to Mercedes through half-lidded eyes to watch her partner shift around her, trying to acclimate to the new length and girth inside her.
“Tell me what you want, Byleth,” Mercedes purrs contentedly. Byleth licks her lips as the sparks of arousal light her nerves on fire, as Mercedes plucks at what little fabric covers Byleth’s chest and gyrates down against her. Mercedes smiles as her movement elicits a desperate growl from Byleth.
“I want to fill you up.”
Her answer comes out in a gasp as, somehow, Mercedes finds just the tiniest bit more purchase. Every last bit of air is squeezed out of Byleth’s lungs as Mercedes squeaks in surprise, as Mercedes’ lips rest against the base of Byleths’ dick.
Once she catches her breath, Byleth laughs. “Well, that’s that,” she chuckles dryly. “My job here is done.”
Mercedes’ blue eyes widen, and she frowns indignantly. “That’s not what you meant and we both know it,” she scolds Byleth with a little wrinkle of her nose. Byleth snorts, but as if to prove her point, Mercedes wriggles her hips experimentally.
“Are you sure?” Byleth starts to ask, but Mercedes slowly, slowly lifts up off of Byleth’s dick. The ease with which she’s able to move up along Byleth makes the words crumble to dust in her mouth.
Mercedes begins to lower herself back down then, pacing herself so slowly that Byleth wants to reach out and dig her nails into Mercedes’ skin to drag her back down. But she pushes that blazing instinct back down, and she redirects her focus towards the fabric of her lover’s nightgown. She feels herself twitch inside Mercedes as she’s enveloped once more; she slices through the hem of Mercedes’ nightgown with a summoned, sharpened talon.
It’s her favorite part of having sex with Mercedes. It’s like the woman has some sort of aversion to stripping down by herself or something. While it’s extra effort on Byleth’s part, of course, there’s nothing that can really compare to the timely reveal of Mercedes’ voluptuous breasts. There’s something just so aesthetically perfect about the curve of her chest, the brown areolae, the hardening nipples that just beg to be toyed with.
She’s lost track of how many nightgowns she’s ruined this way, though, and judging by the faint scowl that passes across Mercedes’ face, they’re starting to add up.
“I’m going to have to start making you fix my nightgowns,” Mercedes muses as she steadily slides up and down on Byleth, her eyes narrowed even as her lips threaten to part with a smile.
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you wore things with buttons,” Byleth retorts. She reaches up to cup Mercedes’ breasts in the palms of her hands, but as always, they seem to spill out through her fingers. “Or just walked around naked.”
“That’s not just something people do—” Mercedes’ breath hitches as Byleth flicks her thumb over a nipple and licks her lips; to Byleth’s delight, the rhythm that she’s managed to build up falters as well.
Of course, Byleth immediately takes advantage of the disruption. With one hand, she squeezes Mercedes’ breast. She drops the other low, however, and with a roll of her shoulders, reaches for the sensitive diadem at the center of Mercedes’ spread thighs. Surprised, Mercedes jolts as Byleth brushes up against her; she clenches around Byleth with a high-pitched whimper. Any thought of a rhythmic pace seems to leave her mind completely as Byleth grazes the tip of her nail against the nub of her clit. All she can do is buck her hips forward automatically, her slick lubricating her frantic, hurried track up and down along Byleth.
She’s close, Byleth can tell. The blissful expression on her face, the way every muscle in her body tries to tense up, the swell of her chest as she inhales exhales and yet somehow still forgets to breathe—
At that moment, Mercedes is the most beautiful thing in her eyes. It’s a complete contrast to the dispassionate response that the man from earlier that night had left her with. Honestly, even thinking about that stupid lay fills Byleth’s chest with rage. To think that she’d tried to numb the pain of Mercedes’ absence in her heart by going out and having sex with every single person who would have her!
Except for Mercedes.
Mercedes had done something to her. Byleth can’t remember when it’d started, not exactly. Had it been her first encounter with the woman? Her second? Either way, Mercedes had managed to bring something to life inside of her, sparking what humanity that had lived inside of her all along. Demons wouldn’t exist if not for humans, for their vices, their endless wants and desires and needs to be more than human, somehow.
Demons are supposed to tempt them with the power to fulfill those very needs.
And yet, somehow, Mercedes is the one tempting Byleth with the possibility of humanity itself.
There’s no way to cross that bridge, though. There’s no soul for Byleth to sell in exchange for humanity. Vaguely, she remembers her original goal of somehow corrupting Mercedes, of defiling her in the eyes of her Goddess. But since the very beginning, Mercedes has been wholly at ease with herself, comfortable with her spirituality and sexuality alike. Byleth can only imagine what that must be like. She’s never had that choice to make.
Her only existence has ever been to serve, whether her master be the King of Demons or humanity itself.
And yet… what if that devotion were directed elsewhere?
The idea strikes the demon like a gong, the chord resonating inside the cavity of her chest and reverberating with the strength of a thousand drums. Her eyes widening, Byleth reaches up towards Mercedes. She caresses the side of her partner’s face with a reverence so sincere that she can hardly believe that she’s the one being so affectionate.
Mercedes glances down at Byleth’s touch, her lips slightly parted and her chest heaving with her effort. “What?”
Something about the way Mercedes looks at her, blue eyes shining, sends a chill running through Byleth’s entire body. From the base of her skull to the tip of her tail, she tingles. The seed that she’d received from the nights’ earlier partner churns uncomfortably inside her; the tightness and warmth of Mercedes around her dick a constant reminder of what she has to offer. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s not magic this time, but after taking so much from Mercedes, it’s only right that she gives this time in turn.
“Flip over,” she growls, pushing herself up onto her elbows. But to her surprise, Mercedes shakes her head. Sweat glistens on her cheeks. “Why not?”
“I like being on top,” she purrs, even as she grinds down on Byleth again. “I like it when you’re under me and I get to do whatever I want. And besides—” She traces some indistinguishable shape on Byleth’s stomach, “aren’t I supposed to be showing you what love is?"
"That’s just it,” Byleth says, uncomfortable and feeling fit to burst with the seed roiling within her. She feels overwhelmed, both from Mercedes’ ministrations and the realization that had only just dawned upon her. “Let me worship you.”
Mercedes blinks, taken aback. “What?”
“I—” Byleth grinds her sharp teeth, nips at the tip of her tongue as she tries to think. “I don’t care about any demons or Goddesses—just you! Let me prove it to you!”
Her plea tapers off in a yowl; despite her desperation to please Mercedes, she knows she’s quickly approaching her limit. Mercedes smiles kindly, her expression filled with understanding. Byleth feels a flutter of relief as Mercedes lifts herself off of Byleth’s dick. The air of the room feels cool on her wet-slicked skin in comparison to the warmth of Mercedes.
But, with a cocky smile that she must have stolen from Byleth, Mercedes lines herself up above the head of Byleth’s dick and drops right back down. Byleth hisses as Mercedes takes her into the hilt once more.
“Then prove it.” Mercedes leans in and whispers against Byleth’s cheek. Her breath is warm, sweet, as it washes across Byleth’s skin. Byleth grabs her face and aligns it with her own, crashing their lips together in a kiss of desperation. Mercedes lifts herself up on her knees slightly, bestowing onto Byleth the ability to move her hips as she pleases. That tiny allowance lets Byleth lift and lower her hips, to move in and out of Mercedes with the frenetic pace that her need and the pressure building within her dictates.
It’s her magic, she’s well aware. All the same, Byleth can’t help but feel fucking elated when Mercedes squeezes around her, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she comes. And in turn, a direct consequence of her consumption of sexual energy, Byleth comes after her. She spills into Mercedes with a deep-seated sigh of relief.
Her stolen seed splashes out of Mercedes as she finishes, as Byleth’s cock shrinks away to nothing, and as Byleth falls back onto the bed, Mercedes rolls off of her and settles down beside her.
“Did you really mean all of that?” Mercedes whispers in a heady voice, turning her head to the side and meeting Byleth’s eyes.
For a moment, Byleth is tempted to lie, to deny the feelings that pulse through her body and fill her with exhaustion. She should feel exhilarated after sex—and she does! But the energy that should fill her following consumption isn’t there.
“I did.” Slowly tearing her gaze away from Mercedes’, she stares up at the ceiling and mulls over the implications. “I… want to be with you, Mercedes. Is that too much after what I did to you?”
“It’s not.” Mercedes replies immediately. She wriggles one arm beneath Byleth, tugging her to her chest, and Byleth rolls into the embrace. Kissing, having sex—she knows all those things. She’s experienced them with a million people, maybe more. But to be hugged, that’s something entirely recent. Only with Mercedes does it ever happen.
With a sigh, she flicks her tail in the empty space behind her. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “But…there’s something else you should know.”
Mercedes hums inquisitively, the sound rumbling through her ample chest. The sound tingles against Byleth’s cheek, since she’s using Mercedes’ chest as a pillow. She can’t help but smile at the feeling.
“Well, the last time—it was magic,” she admits. “Remember?”
“What was?”
“The semen.”
“Yes,” Mercedes confirms. “I remember that.”
“But this time…”
“This time?”
“It was, uh, real.”
“So that means…” Mercedes loosens her hold on Byleth and, with her other hand, reaches down to graze her fingertips against her soft belly. Grimacing, Byleth nods.
“Uh, maybe. There’s no guarantee.” Even though there’s no guarantee, though, Byleth has a pretty bad feeling. She’s a fucking sex demon, after all. Taking men’s semen and impregnating women with it is just part of the job; it comes with the territory.
“I see.” Mercedes catches hold of Byleth’s chin and, lifting her face up, kisses her forehead gently. Byleth can’t help but blush in turn. “If that’s the case, Byleth, then I expect you to double down on worshiping me, understood?”
"You're the only person I'd ever do that for, you know," Byleth growls through the surge of embarrassment that washes over her. "I'm still a demon."
"Maybe so." Mercedes smiles. "But even so, you're mine."
Byleth decides she's okay with that.