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Claude had phrased his suspicions as delicately as he could. As a member of the Almayran court, and an avid reader- including the more questionable flavors of smut- he understood the signs, as absurd as they were.
The evidence: Dimitri had barged into the middle of a strategy meeting, flushed and panting.
Claude had privately perked up at the emergence of a personal emergency, and, sensing a Situation, he had dismissed his team. Hilda had leapt at the opportunity, cheerfully departing without any pretense of resistance. Lorenz had been harder to sell. Claude was the youngest candidate for senate in Leicester history, and he was going to need every edge to win the hearts and minds of the voters. Claude would normally have to devote a good quarter of an hour to argue Lorenz down, but one look at Dimitri’s slipping composure, and Lorenz graciously exited to give Claude and Dimitri some privacy.
Once alone, Dimitri slumped against the wall, hair hanging over his face. He reported in a hoarse voice that throughout the day, he’d felt more and more feverish, irritable, and...- here, Dimitri hesitated, overcome by a fit of shyness. He yanked at his tie, ripping it free and loosening his collar. Claude would not allow himself to be distracted by the hollow of his throat. (But he did notice. Very biteable, in his opinion). Dimitri saw him looking and flicked his fingers downward in an abortive little ‘look for yourself’. Claude’s interest sharpened as he followed Dimitri’s vague gesture below his belt.
The bulge in Dimitri’s pants was unmistakable. And massive.
And so, Claude’s diagnosis: “It sounds like sex pollen.”
Definitely some sort of an aphrodisiac, at least.
However, his straightforward prognosis didn’t do much to soothe Dimitri.
Instead Dimitri began working himself into a tizzy. “What?‘Sex pollen’? Claude that’s ridiculous-” Dimitri interrupted himself with a sneeze, eyes watering. The flush on his face had been steadily traveling to his neck and chest as they talked.
Claude stepped closer, taking Dimitri’s clammy hand and rubbing over his knuckles. “Easy there, Dimitri.” Aphrodisiacs were more accessible in climates warmer than Faerghus, and Claude somehow doubted Dimitri had ever picked up a raunchy romance novel. Dimitri wouldn’t know what to expect. The good news was that attacks with aphrodisiacs weren’t fatal. Usually. They were disruptive or, at worst, publicly humiliating. But... just in case, Claude would keep an eye on Dimitri.
Aside from Dimitri’s general state of disarray, Claude had caught another interesting detail. “No ring today?” Claude asked wryly, not quite smiling.
“I-” Dimitri shrank back, the weight of his shame bowing his head. “I couldn’t go to her for this. I wouldn’t presume.”
Whatever that non sequitur meant, Claude filed it away to examine later. “I’m flattered you came to me first,” he simpered mockingly. He dared to rest his other hand over Dimitri’s chest, over his heart.
Dimitri continued to avoid eye contact. “You always take care of me.” Claude felt Dimitri’s heart pounding.
Claude cleared his throat, chastened by Dimitri's honesty. For the scion of a powerful family, Dimitri was always too earnest by half. It was hard not to be charmed by the artlessness of it. “I do what I can,” Claude murmured, a little more genuine himself.
Dimitri was slated to inherit the corporation that single-handedly supported Faerghus' commerce, military, and governance. Dimitri also happened to have a bleeding heart. Claude’s platform was built on an unconventional platform of opening up borders and emphasizing trade over military conflict. So powerful people who could be swayed by a shiny vision of the future, people like Dimitri? They were the ideal potential allies. Dimitri especially was the perfect match for Claude. If he could cement Dimitri’s public support, Claude would be publicly connected to Fargheus- rounding out his relations in the Old Empire and the Almyran Court.
However, their well-documented public sponsorship had begun to spill over into their private life. It was a risky move, one that Claude had lost sleep over. But somehow, he’d been suckered into some kind of affair of sorts.
Claude took a slow breath to steady himself. He needed to focus before tending to Dimitri’s hard-on. Whoever dosed Dimitri probably meant to derail Dimitri’s calendar- whatever meetings or appearances he had scheduled. Since Dimitri’s success was tied to Claude’s success, Claude could help him out, professionally speaking.
Then he could help him out less professionally.
Claude dropped Dimitri’s hand, and started frisking Dimitri for his phone. Dimitri keened lowly as Claude thumbed his nipples through his shirt, circling leisurely. It was tempting to linger, when Dimitri arched so hungrily into his touch. Claude pinched those hardening buds to make Dimitri keen again.
Then his hands meandered down Dimitri’s front before landing on his ass. He squeezed Dimitri’s backside, humming as he found the shape of Dimitri’s phone. He slid it from Dimitri’s pants pocket and leaned nonchalantly next to Dimitri on the wall. The larger man shuffled sideways to face him, curling over him like an overgrown tree.
“Let me tell your people you’re safe, see if I can salvage your day,” he said, tilting the phone’s lock screen toward Dimitri.
Dimitri huffed, hands balling into fists, but he obeyed. It was thrilling to have Dimitri’s trust, but Claude remained impassive as he scrolled through Dimitri’s pitiful few text conversations for Dedue’s contact. He ignored Dimitri’s fidgeting as he drafted and sent a polite message informing to Dedue that Dimitri was in an emergency strategy meeting for the rest of the day. Claude assumed Dimitri was reading as he loomed over his shoulder, based on the aggrieved noises he made as Dedue replied, directly asking for Dimitri’s exact location, if Dimitri was alright.
“Claude…” Dimitri said. Whined.
Claude continued to ignore Dimitri as he reassured Dedue that Dimitri was in safe hands. Dedue tried to pry more information out of him, but Claude locked Dimitri’s phone and tossed it onto the conference table.
“That’s about as much damage control as I can manage without being your personal assistant,” Claude said. He glanced up at Dimitri, mouth curling into a crooked grin. “Or your husband.”
Dimitri gasped comically loud, gutted by Claude’s unfunny joke.
“Please,” Dimitri begged, still slumped against the wall, fists pressed against his thighs. He raised his gaze imploringly to Claude. Those fever-bright blue eyes, shining with the threat of tears, made something tighten in Claude’s gut.
He could always say he was securing Dimitri’s loyalty here. Or he could say he was creating blackmail if he ever needed it. (Claude had his private doubts Dimitri would bend to any extortion attempt).
Later. He’d think about this later.
Right now, Dimitri was squirming in his spot against the wall, waiting patiently for Claude to command him one way or another. They had a good half hour before someone came looking for them. Claude would make the most of it.
Claude put his hands on Dimitri’s hips to guide him. Dimitri went easily, pressing his shoulders against the wall and shuffling his feet apart to make a space for Claude. Claude took the offering eagerly, pressing himself between Dimitri’s open legs. He, somewhat ruefully, assumed the aphrodisiac was spurring Dimitri to be more wanton than usual.
“Hands up, Dimitri,” Claude ordered, eyes trained on Dimitri’s face.
Dimitri raised his hands as commanded, palms out, next to his head, blinking owlishly at Claude. The show of submission made Claude pulse quicken with hunger. Their height difference meant Claude couldn’t quite reach Dimitri’s lips, but he leaned up to mouth at the column of his throat, licking and kissing wetly. There was so much he wanted to do to Dimitri. Claude began undressing him, pulling open his blazer then parting his shirt wide.
He leaned back to watch. Dimitri’s pale skin was heated and blushing a delicious shade of pink. Claude couldn’t help but to touch, hands wandering appreciatively over Dimitri’s naked chest, feeling the weight of his pecs, how they heaved with Dimitri’s ragged breathing. Dimitri was so sensitive there, his nipples hardening with Claude’s ministrations. Each time Claude rubbed those delicate peaks, Dimitri bit his lips to muffle himself, in an admirable show of restraint. Throughout it all, his hands stayed flat against the wall. It was precious, but Claude wanted him to break.
“So pretty,” Claude breathed. “Let me hear you, Dima.” Dimitri groaned loudly at the use of the nickname. Claude laughed breathlessly. Of course, sentimental nickname did more to Dimitri than pawing at his tits. He squeezed Dimitri hard, feeling the plush give of his chest. Dimitri moaned with every flex of his hands, pushing into Claude’s touch. He kept one hand teasing Dimitri’s nipple, and the other dropping down to cup Dimitri’s clothed cock. Dimitri shuddered, releasing a stuttering breath through his teeth at the pressure, his hips kicking into a tentative rhythm.
“That’s it,” Claude encouraged. Dimitri closed his eyes in ecstasy, grinding against Claude’s hand while Claude plucked at his chest. A constant stream of ah, ah, ah! filled the empty room as Dimitri’s control unraveled. He was close, Claude could tell. He just needed a bit more.
Claude licked his palm then dipped his hand into Dimitri’s slacks, finding the heavy heat of Dimitri’s cock, wet and dripping into his briefs. Claude gripped his dick, thumbing at the weeping head, marveling how far gone Dimitri was with a little sweet talking and some groping. Dimitri whimpered somewhere above him, angling his hips in a desperate bid for friction.
Claude kept him wanting, tracing the glans and spreading pre over the head. The space between them became hot and humid. Dimitri’s expression became pained as he panted and sweated, his hips twitching, trying to wait for Claude to stroke him properly. Trying to be good.
Claude continued to tease him, driving Dimitri to madness. Dimitri bore it sweetly as he could, but he was clearly getting agitated with the combination of the aphrodisiac in his system and Claude’s cruel teasing. A release would cool the fire in his veins, satisfy the hunger in his loins. He cracked open one limpid blue eye, staring meaningfully at Claude. Claude smiled beatifically back, and still didn’t give him what he wanted.
Finally, after wordlessly angling his hips to ask for more, after riding the edge of denial and pleasure so long, Dimitri found his voice. “Please. Please- Claude, please help me," he begged, haggard and wild.
Claude’s lashes lowered, a feeling of smug satisfaction flooding his gut. “Good boy,” he crooned. Then he gave Dimitri what he wanted. He took Dimitri in hand, grip snug, and jerked him off. Quick, steady, twisting his hand over the tip. Just how he liked it.
Dimtri’s eyes snapped open, his hands flew to scrabble at Claude’s shoulders, bruising, his entire body bowing over Claude as he cried out, pressing his forehead into Claude’s hair. Claude felt Dimitri’s cock pulse in his hand, felt cum spurt and drench Dimitri’s briefs as he came. There was definitely more than usual. Claude huffed as Dimitri sobbed hoarsely, stroking Dimitri through the dredges of his orgasm, adjusting his weight as more and more of Dimitri’s weight sagged onto him.
Once Dimitri began to wriggle in discomfort, Claude drew his hand from his pants. Dimitri didn’t do much more besides nuzzle against the side of Claude’s head, occasionally hiccuping with emotion, officially spent for the day. Claude wrapped his clean hand around his back and began directing them as best he could toward the conference table. It’d be impossible to fit into one of the chairs, since Dimitri was so large, but Claude seated himself on the table itself, coaxing Dimitri into his lap.
Dimitri sighed heavily as he slowly adjusted himself, doing his best to make himself smaller. Dimitri’s lower half wasn’t even on Claude’s lap. It was apparently more important to Dimitri to press his face into Claude’s neck. Claude smiled, petting down Dimitri’s back. Then he made a face, and subtly wiped his dirty hand on one of the brochures littering the tabletop.It seemed an age ago, he’d been hashing out his campaign trial, talking strategy. Then Dimitri came in and upended all his careful plans.
Ah, well, best laid plans and all. If nothing else, Claude could adapt. And this wouldn’t be the worst crisis life had thrown at him.
They stayed like that, curled into each other while listening to Dimitri’s breathing even out and deepen.
“Good boy, Dima," Claude said softly. He brushed a lock of blonde hair behind Dimitri's ear, unbearably fond. "You did so well.”
Dimitri hummed contentedly in reply, his breath tickling against Claude’s neck.
After a while, Dimitri started shifting. Claude assumed it was the uncomfortable problem of cum drying tacky, but when he turned his head, he saw it rising to attention. Dimitri was clearly readying for another round or two. It’d only been a precious few minutes since Dimitri had creamed in his underwear. Dimitri caught him looking and had the gall to look sheepish.
Oh. Right, Claude thought, a little numbly. The sex pollen.
They weren't done just yet.