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“There – come on, baby, come up here…”
Dimitri grits his teeth in frustration. He squeezes the pillow over his head tighter to his ears, praying to the goddess that she grant him some reprieve from the noise next door. Sylvain is as shameless as ever, bringing another girl back to his room when he knows that the rest of the dormitory is trying to sleep. That Dimitri is unfortunate enough to be in the room next to him must surely be some form of divine punishment, but perhaps if he prays hard enough…
“Mm… yeah, just like that…”
It’s no good. Dimitri throws the pillow and covers off himself in frustration. He grits his teeth even harder and slides out of bed, hastily pulling on the first shirt he can get a hold of – the button-up he wears under his uniform, which he has no patience to close up for this – so that he is not completely bare-chested when he storms over to Sylvain’s room.
It’s a short walk. Only a few footsteps, which Dimitri, bare-footed, cannot even hear over the sound of Sylvain moaning and shuffling about on his bed. Dimitri clicks his tongue and raises his fist, ready to knock on Sylvain’s door and give him an earful for keeping everyone up so late. Again .
But he stops just short.
The door is open. Not by much – just a small crack – but it is enough to make the voices in the room heard, and enough to give Dimitri a glimpse into the room itself. A perfect, tiny sliver of space, allowing him a perfect view of the bed and Sylvain’s naked body, and of…
Dimitri’s heart rockets up to his throat.
Sylvain is not with a woman.
It takes a moment for that fact to register, and another past that for it to sink in. Dimitri has to do a double-take, at first: the slim, slender figure sitting atop Sylvain’s naked body and swaying makes him think first of illustrations he’d caught accidental glimpses of in his uncle’s study, and second of the women on the corners of Fhridiad’s city streets, bending over lasciviously and batting their full, dark lashes at him. That purple hair, however – the colour of climbing nightshade – and the flat, beautiful chest over which that hair falls means there is only one person Sylvain could possibly be sleeping with.
“I see that tongue of yours is good for more than just flattery after all,” Yuri says, gasping as his hips rock atop Sylvain’s face. “You know how to use it here, too.”
A small, deep moan rises from Sylvain, though he makes no move to answer Yuri’s mockery. It’s just as well – distracted as he is, he can’t hear the way Dimitri’s breath catches, nor can he see him clap a hand over his mouth and flatten himself to the wall.
He takes a moment to ground himself against that wall, curling his fingers against the wood to see if it is real. It is – which means that what he had seen is real, too. That he truly had seen Sylvain – that he’d seen Sylvain and Yuri…
Dimitri had always suspected as much from Sylvain. He’d never spoken of harboring any attraction to men before this, but Dimitri had wondered, once or twice, if the looks he’d thrown at some of their classmates had meant anything. If the way he and Claude spoke to each other over their weekly board games was more than just clever teasing. If the late nights they spent in each others’ rooms were for more than just midnight chats.
Yuri, though…
There was less suspicion when it came to him, and far more hope. Dimitri had always found the man attractive, even that first time he had ventured down into Abyss. Every time after that, the attraction had only increased: night after night, he would lie in bed and recall the first time he had gone down there alone, when Yuri had found him, thrown an arm over his shoulders, and pressed his lips right up to his ear to ask what a little lion cub like him was doing all by his lonesome.
Even now, that recollection makes him shiver – but it makes him burn, too, to think that Sylvain is the recipient of that voice now. That he is the one hearing that sweet, sultry purr in his ears.
Dimitri turns back to the door, crouching slightly in the hope that it will make him smaller. It seems unlikely either of them will see him through the door, since Yuri is facing away from it and blocking Sylvain’s view – but all the same, he wants to be as careful as possible.
Nevermind that the smart thing to do would be to leave. Nevermind him telling himself that this is none of his business – that he should return to his room and try to sleep, or that he should forget about sleep altogether and go to the training grounds instead. It would not be the first time he risked a lecture from Dedue.
And yet he cannot move. It is a strange mixture of emotions that root Dimitri’s feet in place in front of Sylvain’s door, which draws his hand down to the straining appendage between his legs. Dimitri does not even notice himself taking hold of his cock through his sleep pants until it is already in his hands, jumping at the touch and sending shocks of pleasure all throughout his body.
This is wrong, he thinks. It is wrong to watch his friend in such an intimate moment. It is even more wrong for him to be jealous – to wish it was him on the bed, lying flat against it, his hands on the ample curve of Yuri’s rear, digging his fingers in and rocking the man’s hips to guide his cock into his mouth…
“Oh…” Dimitri lets out the tiniest sigh, unable to control himself, and immediately bites his lip. His hand stills on his cock, squeezing at the head, as if that will retroactively stop anyone from having heard him – but nothing changes in the scene before him, nor does anyone else leave their room to see what the commotion is. He is safe, for now.
He presses himself closer to the door. Dimitri closes one eye to get a better look through the crack and watches as Yuri moans and sways above Sylvain. He lifts himself up, rolls his hips back, and sighs with unbridled passion as Sylvain chases after him, mouth open and tongue stuck out in search of what it wants. He’s soaking wet, from lips to chin, every inch of him glistening with – with Yuri’s…
Oh.
Sylvain’s hand slips between Yuri’s legs. He drags two fingers along the seam of his cunt, soaking them before pushing him past pink, swollen labia. Dimitri swallows, his one-eyed gaze fixed on where those fingers disappear, and imagines that those fingers are his, instead, pressing inside Yuri, feeling him up both inside and out…
“Tight, aren’t you?” Sylvain asks, grinning sloppily up at his nighttime companion. Yuri scoffs, even as he rocks his hips back to take Sylvain in deeper.
“Because someone’s not doing his job,” he says. Against his will, and with no logic behind the rise of his emotions whatsoever, a flash of anger ignites within Dimitri. If he were in Sylvain’s place, he would not neglect Yuri in the slightest. He would give him everything he wanted, would worship him with his tongue, slip it between his folds and suck reverently on all his most sensitive spots…
Sylvain laughs. He pushes his fingers in deeper, right to the knuckle, and Yuri’s lips part around a moan. “You’re the one who pulled away, baby. I could eat you out all night if you’d just let me,” Sylvain says.
“I thought the idea was to fuck me?”
“It is.”
“Then get a move on, Gautier.”
Sylvain laughs. He draws his fingers halfway out of Yuri, unknowingly showing off the way they glisten. Dimitri licks his lips at the sight, and his heartbeat grows faster and faster, beating like drums in his ears. Deafening. His world narrows entirely to that slit in the doorframe, to the way Sylvain pushes his fingers back inside Yuri, to the way Yuri tosses his head back and moans, leaning back with one palm against the bed and pushing his hips insistently toward Sylvain.
In the same moment, Sylvain’s free hand settles on the small of Yuri’s back to drag him forward, and he opens his mouth to receive him. Dimitri cannot see the way Sylvain’s tongue peeks out to taste him, but he can imagine it well enough. It is what he would do, after all.
Sylvain buries his face between Yuri’s legs. Yuri rocks his hips. Sylvain is almost completely gone from Dimitri’s sight now, but he makes his presence known all the same with low grunts and deep, dragged-out moans. It’s hard to tell how he must be feeling – is he ecstatic at the chance to eat out a man so beautiful, to grant pleasure to someone so strong of will, so noble of heart? – but the way his cock twitches, tall and proud and neglected between his legs, makes Dimitri burn with envy.
And something else, too, though he will never admit to himself that he wants to know how that feels, as well. To wrap his lips around Sylvain’s cock, to thrust and rut against it, to feel it between his legs and pushing deep inside him…
“Fuck!” Yuri’s voice cuts through the haze of fantasy that had begun to envelop Dimitri, dragging him back before he truly has a chance to venture down that path. His voice is breathless with pleasure, his pink-painted lips curled up and parted gorgeously, just barely visible in profile from where Dimitri stands. His hand speeds up on his cock, watching those lips, listening to Yuri moan and whine and hiss between his teeth…
“There! Fuck, Sylvain, just a little more…” He grinds down mercilessly on Sylvain’s face, expression pinching and brows knitting together. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he thrusts harder, faster – one hand reaches down into Sylvain’s hair and pulls—
And then he comes, his entire body trembling as he chokes out a high, needy gasp. Even from where Dimitri stands, where he can hardly see anything at all, he can tell: he sees the way the lithe, toned muscles of Yuri’s back tense and contract, the way his hips twitch and his legs shudder against the bed. He sees, too, a small burst of liquid, splashing against Sylvain’s face as he pulls back and gasps…
“Ah—!” And then Dimitri is coming too, clapping one hand over his mouth and squeezing the other desperately over the head of his cock. He spills into his cupped hand, catching as much as he possibly can, though he’s hardly cognizant of doing so. All he can think about is the way Yuri looked as he came, the way it might feel for him to be in Sylvain’s place – to know what it might be like to taste Yuri’s cunt – or rather, to feel it against his tongue, to have Yuri grind against his face until that wetness gushes around him, instead…
The thought alone nearly pulls a second orgasm from him. Dimitri whimpers despite his best efforts to swallow down the noise. He simply can’t help himself – and when he realizes what he’s done, his eyes fly open, and he quickly looks inside the room.
Yuri is looking directly at the door.
Dimitri shrinks back, breath solidifying in his throat. It’s dark in the hall – dark enough he shouldn’t have been seen – and yet the frozen hand of fear clamps down over his heart. Had Yuri seen him? Had Yuri heard him…?
“What’s wrong?” Sylvain asks, oblivious to what’s going on in either young man’s head. He follows Yuri’s gaze toward the door, cum-wet lips curling up into a smirk.
“Whoops.” He runs his hand up Yuri’s side. “Looks like I forgot to close the door all the way.” He doesn’t sound apologetic at all.
“You clever little rat,” Yuri says, equally as nonchalant. “Am I supposed to believe you didn’t do it on purpose?”
Sylvain’s grin sharpens. “Only if I’m supposed to believe you didn’t notice until now.”
Dimitri swallows. Did that mean…?
“Touché,” Yuri says with a laugh.
“I can close it now, if you want.”
A beat passes. Dimitri swallows. Now is his only chance. If they get up now – if they move to close the door and realize he’s been there the whole time…
“Leave it,” Yuri says, keeping his eye fixed on the crack Dimitri peeks through. “Unlike you, I have nothing to lose getting caught here.”
“Ouch.”
“You’ll get over it. Now come here.”
Yuri pulls Sylvain in for a kiss. He tugs him up to meet him and seals their lips together, sighing when at last they meet. He wastes no time in opening his mouth, however – in parting his pretty lips to let Sylvain’s tongue in, and – unknowingly, perhaps – to let any unexpected voyeurs get a good look.
He pulls Sylvain forward, climbing off his chest. Sylvain follows obediently – no, eagerly; even from here, Dimitri can see the way he responds, how he moves to fill the space Yuri vacates like it’s second nature to him. He puts a hand on Yuri’s chest, fingers splaying over the scars beneath his pectorals, and pushes him down to the bed. Yuri shifts and repositions so his hair can fall over the end of the bed, and so Sylvain, now, is the one in full view of the door.
He braces himself above Yuri with a hand on either side of his head, and breaks the kiss to look down at him. Dimitri can see his smirk: it shows teeth. “Like this, baby?”
“Exactly like this. Let me get a good look at you while you fuck me.”
He tilts his head back, angling it so that he can look directly at the door. His eyes are shining with mirth and mischief, and his smile is so sharp Dimitri thinks it might pierce right through him. He is ensconced in shadows, still, and so Yuri’s eyes do not quite meet his own – but still, the fear that he’s been seen sets static to the base of Dimitri’s spine.
He should leave. He knows he should. He’s already stayed too long, and he’s already risked so much – and yet the sight of Sylvain over Yuri, Yuri’s legs spread and welcoming him, nothing at all obstructing the view of Sylvain’s cock hovering above his cunt and rubbing against the large, swollen nub of Yuri’s own…
It’s too much. Dimitri cannot move. His eyes are glued to the two of them, his feet rooted in place.
“Is this a good enough look?” Sylvain murmurs, bowing his head to speak in Yuri’s ear. His voice is just loud enough for Dimitri to hear, and his eyes are turned upward, toward the door.
“Perfect,” Yuri says, directing his gaze back up at Sylvain and wrapping his arms around his neck. “Now fuck me, will you?”
And Sylvain does. He grins as he pulls back and spreads Yuri’s legs further, putting him on beautiful, obscene display. He presses the head of his cock to Yuri’s entrance, and then slowly moves in further, inch after inch slowly disappearing inside him.
Dimitri is unbearably hard.
There’s no use denying it. He’s already come once; the second time he rouses to erection is far less of a surprise, and there’s far less shame in taking hold of himself now than there had been before. He’s taken too many steps over the threshold of propriety already – what are a few more?
He begins to stroke himself slowly, curling his hand around his shaft and spreading the remnants of the cum that had clung to it. He knows it is nothing like the real thing, but he tries to imagine that the wetness is from Yuri instead – that his hand squeezing around himself is Yuri’s cunt, sucking him in deeper and deeper.
He strokes in time with Sylvain’s thrusts, imagining that he is in his place. Sylvain does not waste any time: the moment he’s sheathed himself in Yuri completely, he pulls back out again and starts to move with abandon. He takes Yuri by the ankles and wrenches them up to his shoulders, bending him nearly in half as he leans forward and takes .
He speaks to Yuri as he fucks him into the mattress. Dimitri can see Sylvain’s mouth moving, can see the way his eyes gleam as they narrow and his lips curl into a vicious smirk, but he cannot hear a single word. His blood is rushing in his ears again, so loud he can hardly comprehend anything else.
He strokes himself madly, feverishly, relentlessly, the same way Sylvain pounds into Yuri. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life, watching these two men fuck, watching the object of his secret affections clench his hands in the sheets and undulate in sheer, overwhelming bliss.
He bites down on his lip hard enough to bleed, fighting not to make any sound that will be heard over Yuri’s moans, Sylvain’s words, and the sound of their skin slapping together. DImitri moves his gaze from where the two bodies are connected, averting his gaze from Sylvain’s cock, and trains it instead on Yuri’s face—
On Yuri’s eyes, looking directly at him.
He comes, then, with a great, shuddering jerk of his body. Dimitri falls back against the wall, but he keeps his eyes trained on Yuri, even as he releases himself a second time, making a mess of his open shirt and bare chest. So overwhelming are the shockwaves of his pleasure that he almost misses it when Yuri comes for the second time too, his back arching off the bed and a low, breathless laugh escaping like birdsong from his lips.
He clamps his legs around Sylvain’s waist and pulls him close, holding him in place while his body tenses and trembles. Dimitri can’t see the gush between his legs he’s sure is there, but he imagines it well enough after, when Sylvain pulls out and comes all over Yuri’s stomach. His cock is soaking wet and glistening. Dimitri can’t help but wish his was the same.
It’s when the two of them calm down and start to catch their breaths, eyes moving from the door to each other, that Dimitri finally finds the strength to move. As if released from bondage, he lifts his feet and slowly slinks away, making as little noise as possible. He tries not to think of the last look Sylvain and Yuri give toward the door as he leaves: two matching grins amid flushed cheeks and spit-soaked lips, which quickly turn toward each other to seal together in a kiss.
Dimitri closes his dorm room door behind him softly, and makes his way towards the bed. He is spent, and exhausted, and ready to finally fall asleep.
Or he would be, if he could erase the burning afterimages of Sylvain and Yuri’s passionate embrace. Instead, all that Dimitri succumbs to is the urge to snake his hand back between his legs.