Chapter Text
Lorenz sipped gingerly from his cup of Angelica tea with practiced etiquette, Ferdinand sitting across the garden table watching his face with unhidden intrigue.
“Your verdict, Lorenz?” Ferdinand asked when the other noble finished the cup, carefully sitting the fragile cup upon the most exquisite plate the Empire’s wealthiest could buy.
“Masterfully brewed and served, my friend,” Lorenz commended, an elegant smile gracing his lips as the taste of Ferdinand’s brew lingered in the back of his throat. “I can always count on you to produce the most delicious tea this side of Enbarr.”
The redheaded Black Eagle blushed at the praise. “You flatter me! I always look forward to our weekly tea parties; I couldn’t ask for more refined, noble company.”
“Hear, hear,” Lorenz agreed, taking a moment to bring his own carefully brewed selection over to the table from a smaller side stand. “For this week, I decided to craft a delightful blend of Bergamot. By all means, have the first sip and tell me what you think.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Ferdinand waited ever so patiently for Lorenz to fill his cup, and with a hearty smile brought it to his lips. However, the moment the tea seemed to make contact with his tongue, Ferdinand’s eyes shot open and he nearly fell backwards out of his chair, the cup clattering onto the table. “Goddess, what on earth is that vile thing?”
Lorenz was about to rise in outrage at the complete disregard for decorum, but his nostrils got a whiff of whatever Ferdinand had been talking about emanating from the cup. He tried not to gag; it smelled of pepper, a gargantuan dose of black pepper.
Someone had sabotaged his tea! And it was hardly a mystery to figure out who had done such a vile thing.
“Claude!”
Across the monastery, away from the ruined tea party between nobles, Lysithea thumbed her way through the library, scanning book after book in search of one that would offer a solution to her double Crest problem.
While the mages who had experimented on her had told her bearing two Crests would greatly reduce her lifespan, she wasn’t willing to just roll over and die young without at least trying to discover a workaround.
“Where was that tome Linhardt had mentioned?” she mumbled to herself, running her hands along the spines of the books as she walked the length of the library. “Crests and Their Origins…”
Lysithea spent a few more minutes carefully examining the selection before she finally spotted the title she’d been looking for, nestled up on a high shelf seven rows up from the floor.
No problem. The library had ladders for just such an occasion, and Lysithea headed for the one she knew was the lightest, to spare her any trouble in actually trying to move the thing.
However, on grabbing hold of the ladder to pick it up, the young mage found herself spinning in place, the ladder rotating in a perfect circle thanks to someone having nailed a long spike down into one of the legs.
This meant only one leg came up when she tried to lift it, and the resulting momentum left Lysithea hanging on to the rungs of the ladder for dear life as she span around and around, only able to wait for the centripetal force to finally come to an end.
No question as to who would be devious enough to pull this kind of stunt.
“Claude!”
In the training grounds, Caspar was going to town on of the training dummies, swinging the heaviest training axe he could lift as an endurance test.
“Take that! And that!” he shouted with every strike, feeling a satisfying burn in his forearms as he attacked the dummy from every angle. It wasn’t exactly the same thing as training against a real opponent, but Raphael was busy making a market run for the Golden Deer House and Petra was having a sword-focused lesson with professor Manuela.
With his two preferred training partners busy, Caspar was left to work on his muscles with his own devices.
“And now one more for good measure!” He swung as hard as he could, and was rewarded for his efforts with the dummy’s head nearly smashing in on itself from the force of the axe coming in. If this had been a real fight, and he’d been wielding a real axe, he would’ve totally decapitated his enemy.
Grinning at his strength, Caspar pushed the beaten dummy to the side, letting the axe fall to the ground as he fetched a new one from the side of the room. Content with his axe training, he switched to his hand to hand routine, doing a few more stretches and pumps before he stood facing the new dummy.
“Okay, Mister Big Shot! You wanna prey on the weak and helpless? Well, now you gotta deal with me!” Shouting in excitement, he lunged at the dummy and delivered a wicked punch right to the center mass.
And was rewarded for his efforts with an explosion. Specifically, an explosion of what tasted like tomato. The dummy burst from the blow, red juice popping outwards, splattering all over Caspar’s front and utterly ruining his uniform.
No amount of washing was gonna get those red stains out, thanks to whoever had decided to booby trap the training dummy.
Three guesses? He only needed one.
“Claude!”
Claude couldn’t help laughing to himself as he made his way to the Golden Deer classroom, shaking his head at the memory of Lorenz, Lysithea, and Caspar all storming up to him in a huff right after class. Lorenz’s lips were puckered tighter than a vault, Lysithea’s hair was sticking out in all directions from the trip she’d been taken on, and Caspar’s skin was literally tinted red thanks to the tomato trap he’d set.
Sure, he knew all those schemes would go off at some point, but what were the odds they’d all get triggered on the same day, within an hour of each other?
The heir to house Riegan laughed again as he recalled his “apology” to each of them, promising he’d do his best to ensure they didn’t get caught up in another one of his devious little plots. He didn’t actually say it wouldn’t happen. Just that he’d do his best.
Not his fault he had flaws and couldn’t guarantee it.
Speaking of again, the reason he was on his way to the Golden Deer classroom; he’d been plotting out some sneaky advantages he could give the Golden Deer for the upcoming Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and one idea he particularly liked was a clever application of emetic poison.
Nothing dangerous, of course. Just something that would loosen their bowels and make them forfeit the match as they ran for the outhouses as quickly as their legs would carry them.
Sure, wasn’t exactly the most honorable way of winning a battle, but it was effective! In a real war, nobody would die if that strategy proved successful. Clean and efficient, exactly how Claude liked it.
The classroom was deserted when he got there, and he headed for his desk. He remembered putting the poison there before getting distracted by Byleth coming in with his hands full of maps, and the professor had chosen Claude’s desk to lay them out, leaving the poison to vanish under the parchment while Byleth started the lesson on terrain and the consequences it could have on a battlefield.
Not exactly the most convenient place he could’ve picked, but the professor was handsome enough where Claude was willing to let him get away with it without trying to get him back.
Besides, Claude was pretty convinced that if one of his schemes ever did end up catching the professor in the crosshairs, Byleth would string him up upside down outside the dining hall and let everyone in the three houses throw vegetables at him.
There was something about the way the professor held himself that just unnerved Claude, ever so slightly. Like he was always just one affront away from snapping into that “Ashen Demon” mode that had left him with such a terrifying reputation as a mercenary.
Claude made it to his desk, and raised an eyebrow at not seeing the vial anywhere. Okay, maybe it was under the table. He crouched down, scanning underneath not only his desk, but every desk in the room. No such luck.
Okay, time to problem solve. It was on the desk when the maps were laid out, so if it didn’t roll under one of the tables or stay on top of the desk, someone must have picked it up. But who could have done that?
Claude’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the classroom door shutting behind him. “Looking for this?”
The house leader span on his feel, his charismatic grin springing onto his face as natural as he breathed. Byleth stood there at the other end of the room, one hand held aloft, clutching the missing poison vial gently between his fingers.
“Teach, you’re a lifesaver!” Claude said, mentally kicking himself for getting into this situation. “I just came in looking for that! It’s some of my cologne, I picked it up at the market the other day and was wondering-“
Byleth’s penetrating stare didn’t budge an inch. “It’s awfully pungent for cologne, Claude,” the professor said. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Maneula’s infirmary laxatives ended up, would you? They vanished a few days ago, and she’s been looking for them.”
Crap. “Can’t say I have, Teach,” Claude bluffed, still maintaining his easygoing smile. “Yeah, that cologne is really strong! Helps impress the ladies, though.”
Byleth set the vial down on the desk closest to the door, strong powerful strides taking him from the exit of the classroom to right in front of Claude in just a few steps. This close, Claude could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow, his lies coming very close to tumbling down.
“I know about the tea. And the ladder. And the training dummy,” the professor said, crossing his arms across his chest. His coat seemed to furl around his body as he spoke, and Claude couldn’t help noticing that Byleth’s arms were so tense he could practically see the veins through the sleeves.
“Harmless pranks, professor. Like I said, sometimes you gotta make your own fun around here.”
“Gotta make my own fun? For once, Claude, I agree with you.”
Claude tried to smile again, but there was a new gleam behind the professor’s eye, one that genuinely rattled him. “Umm… yeah… listen, I’m gonna go, I have a thing I gotta-“
As he spoke, Claude tried to weasel his way past the professor, but faster than he’d been expecting, Byleth reached out and grabbed at his wrist, spinning on his heel to end up behind Claude. Claude’s arm went right with the motion, and before he could resist properly, the professor had grabbed him by the other wrist as well, both of them getting lashed together by a roll of rope Byleth had apparently been keeping in his sleeve.
“Hey, what’s-!” Claude tried to protest, but before he could say more, Byleth had him up against the wall, his knee pressed into the house leader’s stomach, his hands painfully tied together behind his back. The cold stone wall sent shivers down Claude’s spine as the professor regarded him with a predatory expression, and on flexing his wrists to try and escape the bindings, the rope only bit deeper against his skin.
“Teach…” Claude whispered, genuine fear creeping into his system. He was pinned, his usual dexterity failing him, and even if he could get out of his bindings, there was no way he could hope to outfight the professor when he had this kind of advantage.
Byleth’s cold eyes stared right back into his, not saying anything for a moment. “If you want it to stop… say “Chamomile”, and I’ll stop. No questions asked.”
What? Claude’s mind whiffed at the statement, too scared and confused to properly register what had just been said? However, he suddenly caught on to the meaning when Byleth reached up and literally tore the front of his shirt in half, exposing his chiseled, tan chest.
“Fuck, Teach,” Claude mumbled as Byleth immediately pinched his brown nipples tight in his fingers, tweaking both of them. “I didn’t know you were into this kinda thing. You… you could’ve just asked.”
“This isn’t quite what you think, Claude,” the professor corrected him, one hand continuing to knead at Claude’s now fully erect nipples while the other pulled his shirt and cape completely off. The cold stone wall pressed all the way into his bare back, and Claude felt himself go weak in the knees as Byleth bit down on his neck, the sensitive skin tasting of warm, scared sweat. “You’ve been causing issues for everyone with those little schemes of yours: it’s about time you faced some consequences for them.”
“This is supposed to be a punishment?” Claude asked, his signature grin managing to come back at least partially as Byleth’s hands began to trail up and down his abs. He wasn’t quite as muscular as say Dimitri, but the muscles were well defined, and the professor seemed very enamored with the happy trail of black hair that ran from his navel down into his pants. “Hate to break it to you, but this isn’t exactly the first time I’ve been tied up, Teach. You’re gonna have to do something wild to make me- ack!”
Claude’s boastful pride got knocked down, literally, when Byleth delivered a kick to his knee. It wasn’t a strong blow, and it didn’t hurt, but it landed in just the right place to knock Claude down onto his knees, Byleth catching his chin as he fell to force him to look up.
“Wrong tone to take with me,” the professor warned him.
Was it stupid to rile up Byleth when he was in such a precarious position? Absolutely.
Was it also really hot seeing the professor so commanding? Fuck yeah.
“Sure I didn’t slip some aphrodisiac into your cup when you weren’t looking, Teach?” Claude said, mischief written all over his face. “Tell you what; untie my hands and I’ll show you exactly what I can- achgk-!”
Byleth cut off his offer by sticking two of his fingers into Claude’s throat while his mouth was open, the heir to House Riegan immediately feeling his air supply get cut off as the invading digits pressed all the way on his tongue.
The professor’s face still didn’t budge an inch, utterly devoid of emotion, even as Claude choked on his fingers, the boy being unused to having his mouth so deeply penetrated without warning.
The inside of his mouth was warm and wet, something Byleth took advantage of by spreading his fingers out, a gagging sound emitting from Claude at the force. Not letting up, the professor started thumping his hand up and down, the movement forcing his fingers deeper and deeper into Claude’s throat while all the boy could do was kneel and let it happen.
There was no more backtalk; the only sound Claude could manage was desperate gagging and hassling for air as Byleth violated his mouth, taking care to only give him just enough breathing room to keep him from passing out. It didn’t take long for Claude to have tears in his eyes, his race turning purple, tongue desperately wrapping around Byleth’s digits to gain some traction in the movement.
Once Byleth had figured his fingers were properly wetted down, he finally withdrew them from the boy’s throat, Claude gasping for air as he was freed from the torment.
“Damn, Teach, you-!” he tried to say, but the fingers came right back in, harder and faster this time, Byleth pushing down into him so deep it was a miracle Claude didn’t faint right then and there. His bare chest started to strain at the pressure being built up in his throat, and Byleth hammered it in deeper by starting to circle his fingers in a clockwise motion, Claude’s head helplessly following the momentum around and around and around.
He pulled them free again, and waited.
Claude shivered as he took another breath, his entire body weak from the lack of oxygen as well as the building arousal at being used like this. He didn’t have to ask; he knew exactly what Byleth was doing. But he was Claude von Riegan; he didn’t surrender so easily.
“I-!”
This time it was three fingers that shot into him, and Claude did genuinely almost pass out, his saliva starting to run down his chin and his chest due to Byleth forcefully keeping his mouth open.
Yet again Byleth showed no mercy, spreading his fingers out to stroke and press at the walls of Claude’s mouth, warm wet pleasure getting poked and smoothed and prodded as deeply as could be managed.
Claude felt his head go dizzy, the lack of air mixing with the now throbbing hardness tenting into his pants. He kept following Byleth’s motions, going up and down and side to side as those fingers penetrated him, actually feeling his throat widen to accept them after a while.
It felt good. Better than good, even.
With every powerful jam, Byleth threw in a pleasurable graze of a finger, a tingling erotic touch that had Claude so weak it was a miracle he didn’t release right there in his clothes.
He had a way out if he needed it. “Chamomile.” The professor didn’t have to give him a lifeline, but he had.
And it was that little show of care, combined with the teasing, gagging force, that did him in.
The next time Byleth pulled his fingers from his throat, Claude didn’t speak. He left his mouth hanging open, just in case the professor wanted to violate him again, but his tongue was still.
Byleth leaned in close, those cold blue eyes so alluring now. “Anything to say?”
Claude carefully shook his head no, before lowering his head down to his chest. He waited, patiently, for more.
“That’s what I thought.”
Byleth stood back up to his full height and walked behind Claude, pushing them both out away from the wall towards the middle of the room where they had more space. Once there, the professor pushed Claude all the way down, his shoulders just inches from the floor, and used that position to remove the boy’s pants and underclothes.
Claude shivered as his naked body was exposed in such a demeaning way, ass up in the air, cock hard and leaking pointed down at the ground. His manhood was impressive; thick, juicy, and almost a full ten inches long at its full length, black hairs tangling around his balls and the base of his shaft.
The professor kept him down with one sturdy hand placed on his back, the other finger beginning to massage and circle around Claude’a hole, a tempting, tantalizing tease that had the house leader shaking in anticipation.
He’d never actually been penetrated like that before, and Byleth seemed to be aware of this, since he stoked Claude’s cheeks with genuine care as he teased him, finally readying one of his slick wet fingers with a drumming from the other hand.
“If it’s too much… you know what to say,” the professor reminded him, Claude nodding his assent.
From there, the finger slipped in.
Claude grunted at the unfamiliar sensation, Byleth pausing the moment the tip entered, gently wiggling it around to let Claude get used to the sensation. It felt odd, but Claude trusted the professor, and after getting a moment to catch his breath, Byleth pushed in deeper.
If his arms weren’t bound behind his back, Claude would’ve collapsed onto his face from the feeling that erupted out of his body as Byleth prodded along further. Soft, sensitive skin tightened around the professor’s finger, but smooth, calm, gentle caresses relaxed the hole, allowing Byleth to sink further into him.
Claude closed his eyes, maintaining the breathing techniques Shamir had taught him for meditation. He felt Byleth slide in deeper, and then further… and then the professor curled his finger down, towards where his stomach was.
And he hit something that had Claude seeing stars.
“There it is,” Byleth hummed as his finger found the prostate, Claude’s eyes rolling back into his head as every cell of his body started to get flooded with a numbing, throbbing arousal. With a few more careful pokes, the professor hit the sweet spot, and Claude’s throat opened out into a noise that didn’t have a proper definition.
Goddess, and Claude didn’t even believe in the Goddess! His entire body went limp as Byleth stroked his prostate from tip to tip, drool pooling out of his open mouth onto the floor, incoherent blubbering the only thing he could do.
Not satisfied, Byleth continued working the poor boy’s prostate to the max with his finger while his other hand grabbed at his cock. Claude, currently kneeling all the way down, suddenly found his hardness getting stroked downward the same way you’d milk a cow, and that on top of Byleth’s assault on his prostate proved to be the boiling point.
“Uahahahahhhh,” Claude frothed, barely realizing he was starting to grind his ass further down onto the professor’s hand, aching for the finger to go even deeper inside him. That it did, and his prostate thanked him for it, his balls tightening hard against his cock as Byleth stroked it with force.
The first volley of cum was exactly what Byleth had been hoping for; with the prostate completely at his mercy, Claude’s orgasm was heavy on fluid, but light on the actual semen. The boy shuddered and gasped as his climax hit him, everything going even hotter against his skin as he did so.
“Damn… if this was a punishment, please tell me what to do so I can have more of it,” Claude said, looking over his shoulder with a smile. However, they weren’t done.
Byleth’s firm hold of his cock didn’t release, and in fact the finger inside him only went deeper, forcing a strangled gasp of shock out of the house leader as his cock snapped all the way back up to its full arousal.
“Wonderful thing about the prostate: you can cum over and over again when it’s been touched like this,” Byleth informed him, Claude’s eyes rolling back again as the pleasure once more swelled inside him. “After all, you’re not actually releasing any semen, just the seminal fluid. So there’s nothing that needs to recharge.”
Claude moaned in bliss as the professor stroked him even harder, even faster, than before, and before long he was painting the ground beneath him with another massive burst of cum.
And then again.
And again.
And then nine more times.
Byleth hadn’t lied. This was a punishment. Just a very special brand of one.
By the time it was finally over, Claude had been rubbed raw, on both his cock and his prostate. Byleth pulled his hands back slowly and gently once the work was done, and the moment his hands were untied, Claude collapsed onto his side, shaking.
Byleth didn’t hesitate to carefully scoop the boy up and hold him close, his coat wrapping around Claude’s naked form to let the coldness of the room blend into the warmth of their bodies being so close.
“So… that vial I found?” Byleth asked?
Claude didn’t have the heart to lie to him anymore. “Emetic poison, as an idea for helping the Golden Deer win the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.”
“Clever, and also totally against the rules.”
Claude sighed, resting his head against his teacher’s firm chest. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t.”
Byleth hummed against him. “I take it the nobles of the Leicester Alliance are a rather cutthroat bunch?”
“Spot on. Always gotta have contingency after contingency ready for dealing with them.”
“Keeping yourself alive under Fodlan politics is understandable, Claude. But these are your classmates, your friends. Don’t you think they deserve better than what you’ve been doing to them?”
Claude sighed again. “You’re right, Teach. Guess I let my paranoia get the better of me. Again.”
“I’ll make you a deal. If you can make it two weeks without another hare brained scheme causing someone to complain to me, I’ll tie you up and show you what a reward looks like compared to a punishment.”
Claude took that in, feeling a rush of pink to his cheeks as he looked at Byleth. “What if… I like being punished?”
That finally got the stony veneer to crack, Byleth chuckling at him. “Then do me a favor and tell me when you’re about to pull a scheme beforehand, so I can stop you and punish you for it.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Teach.”