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Chapter Text

The church truly had no place in power if they actually trusted an outsider barely older than the students she was supposed to teach. Something was wrong with that woman. Something, or someone, was pulling the strings. It would be best to cut her loose and mitigate any damage that she could cause in the events to come. Alas, despite his best efforts, the uneducated and uncivilized woman managed to capture Lady Edelgards gaze.

There had been a handful of people that had captured the future emperor's attention throughout the years. A clever stable boy who took care of her horse and taught her how to play cards. A noblewoman who stood up to her Uncle when anyone else would tremble. Most of them, like the woman, were mere passing interests that went as soon as they came. Some, like the stable boy, were more intriguing until they showed their true colors. Those who had hidden agendas were visited by her “shadow”, her loyal vassal who had served her since she was a child. Hubert prided himself on his ability to intimidate those deemed unworthy of his lady's precious time. This "professor" would be no different.

After weeks of studying her and her routine, the perfect moment came to deliver his warning. The professor was at the training grounds setting up for the next day's lesson. At the moment she was assembling a combat dummy. Hubert made his move: he approached with whisper-quiet steps and stopped just behind her.

"Hello, Professor. You seem to be in good health," he smirked, his hands clasped behind his back. Unalarmed, she turned back to him with her expression unreadable as ever. "I am, yes. And yourself?" She asked, voice monotone and unsettling. Byleth turned her back to him and continued to affix the straw body to the wooden frame of the dummy.

His smirk faded. "Of course.” Under his breath, he murmured, “Doesn't seem intimidated."
That made her turn back to look at him, and he realized he may have been speaking a hair too loud.

"Something wrong?" The professor asked, brushing the straw off her coat. If you could call it that. It was little more than a cape with useless sleeves. In fact, her entire outfit was illogical for combat and inappropriate for a teacher. For a so-called ‘mercenary’ she certainly dressed like a whore.

That aside, he shook his head, "No, not at all.”
Folding his arm across his chest he held his chin in contemplation. "It's just that I find myself a little concerned for your well-being. You see, Lady Edelgard has taken something of an interest in you." A dangerous smile crossed his face.

She stared at him passively, then hummed and mimicked his body language. “I suppose she has, hasn’t she?”

His tone was threatening, even if his words were not. At this point, most people would be trembling, but this woman refused to budge. It was infuriating. Hubert bristled, "Don't be flippant.” With a sneer he stepped closer to her - their height different made it quite easy to loom over her. There was no falter in her gaze towards him, but she did step back so she could maintain eye contact without having to crane her neck up.

“There is something you need to understand about the role I play here.” He explained, stepping even closer until he was well within her personal space. With narrowed eyes, he glowered down at her. “One of my many duties is to determine potential advantages and potential threats to Her Highness. If you prove yourself useful to Lady Edelgard, then all will be well. If you pose a threat…” He furrowed his brow, ”I shall have to dispose of you."

For a moment there was a quirk of a smile on her lips, but as soon as the microexpression came, it was gone again. “Dispose of me?” She asked, her eyes fixed on his. Unflinching, almost challenging. With a low voice laced with venom, she warned, “I would consider your next words carefully, Hubert.”

This woman had no idea who he was, did she? Of course not. The so-called “educator” was only just now learning of the church, so the reputation of his house and their role in the Empire would be completely foreign to her. Yet another reason that she couldn't be trusted. Who was this person who was so ignorant of the world around her? What was hiding behind those dark blue eyes?

“Oh, but I have considered them, Professor.” The title left him like a growl, his hands falling to his side. “This is no joke. While I may be a student here, I am her servant first and foremost. Therefore, if an... untimely demise is not to your liking, you would do well to demonstrate your utility with all haste.” With confidence, he reached up and rested his hand on her shoulder. Not squeezing, not moving. Just a warning, something to remind her that she was not in control.

Her eyes traveled down to his hand, then back up to his face. The muscles in her shoulders were taut even though she looked calm. With a dark chuckle, he smoothed his thumb over her shoulder. “I should warn you that I am far less compromising than Lady Edelgard. Do not be at ease merely because you stand in her good graces for the time being.”

Without hesitation, she replied, “I’m not worried.”

A smile twisted on his face as an abrupt laugh escaped him. He withdrew his hand. “Ha! Such confidence. I'm beginning to see why you caught her eye…” Musing, he once again crossed his arms across his chest, lilting his head up so he could look down at her properly.

“My family, House Vestra, has been sworn to House Hresvelg for generations. Since the dawn of the Empire, we have worked to protect the emperor by any means necessary—both in the open and in the shadows.” He smirked, then reached up and took her chin in his hand, tilting her head up, “If you incur our wrath, you will see just what I me-”

The words died on his lips as she grabbed his arm tightly. For a half-second, his expression blanched. She pivoted away from him and with strength he had not been prepared for she yanked him over her shoulder and threw him onto his back. Hubert hit the floor with a loud and unceremonious thump. The wind was knocked clear out of him and he found himself staring up at the ceiling. Entering his vision he saw Byleth looking down at him. But before he could get his bearings she was on top of him with her hand on his throat. The pupils of his yellow-green eyes were blown, staring at her in surprise.

"You forget your place, Hubert Von Vestra." She spoke, her fingers slightly squeezing into his neck. “We may be close in age, but I am your teacher and you will show me respect.”

Snarling, he grabbed her arm and tried to pull her wrist away but failed miserably. The muscles of her arm were hard as a rock. Up close he could now see their definition. He drew his legs up onto his heels, kicking as he struggled to wrench from her grasp. Her grasp kept him firmly pinned to the ground.

It was getting hard to breathe. Red in the face, he gasped against her hold on him, his grip on her arm weakening. How could someone so small so easily overpower him? For the first time in a very long time, he felt fear. Behind his ribcage, his heart beat wildly as he tried to gather himself. While he could still breathe it wasn’t enough, the lack of oxygen was making him dizzy.

Unaffected, she continued from where she left off. “Your esteemed lineage means nothing to me. Politicians may quake under your gaze but mercenaries have no fear of people like you. People who slink and scheme in the dark like rats. This poor attempt at intimidation has only proven how inexperienced you are and it is exactly why I am your teacher.”

Byleth leaned down, her dark blue, emotionless eyes boring into his. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing under her palm. “Threaten me again,” She whispered“ and I will show you why they call me Ashen Demon. That, Hubert, is a lesson you do not want to learn.“ His breath caught in his throat, a shiver traveled down the length of his spine.

When she stood she released her hold on his throat. With a gasp, he felt the cool air flood his lungs. Hubert sat up, his head heavy as the room blurred around him. Still dizzy his hand brushed over bruised indentations where her fingers had been around his neck. Silently she watched him, a subtle smile on her face as she looked down his body. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, his teeth bared as he struggled to find the words to properly convey his fury. “How dare you, you ...you…” He followed her gaze, looking down at what she was now staring at with intense curiosity. To his horror, his trousers were tented.

“Hm. What does this reaction say about you, I wonder?" She stepped on his chest and pressed her foot down to force him to lay back onto the ground. There was a slight but very smug smile on her lips as she dug the heel of her boot into his sternum. His hips bucked slightly and he drew a sharp intake of breath, cursing himself. He felt his face flush red - ears burning with humiliation. With a grunt, he grabbed her ankle and pulled, but like her arms, she was not going to be moved by his increasingly pathetic attempts. Instead, he did what he did best and glared at her. If other people glared daggers he was glaring swords.

“Get. Off. Me.” He commanded.

"Now, now, that's no way to talk to your professor. Try again.” She chided, looking down at him with her arms crossed under her bust. From the ground, he could see the details in her lace tights that hid those deceptively strong thighs. Why he found himself staring at them he couldn’t fathom.

What was important was getting out of this situation as quickly as possible - lest someone walk in and see them there. Not to mention that in this position she could easily do some serious damage to him. From between gritted teeth, he growled. "Let me go, Professor.”

She didn't move; she just stared him down in an expression that said "Try that again.". Rage curled in his gut, along with another emotion he could not yet quantify. The minute he had the opportunity he would kill this woman. Strike her down with his blade, or burn her alive with a magic spell. Desperate to leave, he hissed, “...Please, let me go. Professor.” He spat out the title.

With a satisfied hum, she removed her foot and stepped away from him. As he scrambled to his feet, sweat on his brow, she chuckled. "Do you get this aroused when your lady orders you around, or am I special?”

A series of expletives weighed heavily on his mind, and he nearly delivered them - but when the sound of footsteps coming up the stone stairs met his ear he clamped his mouth shut. Right now he had an embarrassing, physiological reaction that was about to make him the object of much gossip. The great Hubert von Vestra, caught with an erection while speaking to the professor alone. Inside he felt like dying.

The sea of turmoil that drowned his thoughts was interrupted. Suddenly the professor was shoving two empty burlap bags into his arms.

“Take this down to the stables, I used them to bring straw up here earlier. And..” She smacked the back of his shoulder, knocking him forward. “Don’t forget to take care of your little... problem, Hubert.”

Face red, he shot her an angry look over his shoulder, but nevertheless, folded the burlap over his arm and used it to effectively hide his condition. Though he was loath to admit it, he was thankful for her quick thinking. Especially when he passed by Caspar who was coming in as he was on his way out of the room. The devastation of having Caspar see him like that may have actually killed him. If that didn’t do the job, he would have had to do it himself. His heart was still pounding, blood rushing through his veins as he tried to devise the next plan of action. Next time, he vowed, he would not be the one humiliated. It would be her panting underneath him.

He frowned, pausing halfway down the stairs. What was he thinking about, exactly? The question puzzled him until he heard Lady Edelgard call for him. With a sigh, he steeled himself for the conversation he would have to have to explain why he was gone.

Chapter Text

One month had passed since their previous encounter.

After being thrown around like a piece of luggage, Hubert needed time to lick his proverbial wounds. In order to be better prepared for their next encounter, he would need to observe from afar - from the shadows. So he attempted to put as much distance between them as possible.

That proved quite difficult, considering he was in her class.

It also did not help at all that Byleth seemed to be determined to get closer to him. At every opportunity she attempted to strike up a conversation with Hubert, even going as far as to invite him to lunch. Even more concerning, she also started to give him gifts. Some were rather thoughtful - Like imported coffee beans (how had she known he liked that roast?) and a rare board game that he had never played before. The other gifts were inexplicable.

For instance, golden apples.

His least favorite fruit.

Every other day he would be approached by her holding one of the damn things with a slight smile on her face. Not only did they taste disgustingly sweet, she also made a point to wait and watch him eat it.

At first, he refused. He wasn't some animal in an exhibit for her to gawk at. But Byleth would not be denied. The professor would stare him down until he acquiesced to her strange demand. With great reluctance and a glare in her direction, he would take a bite. Hubert loathed the feeling of juice running down his chin. The aftermath was always so sticky. Not to mention, the way she looked at him as he bit into the fruit sent shivers down his spine. The expression could only be described as ‘hungry’. It permeated his subconscious and conjured feelings he'd never considered before.

Hubert started to see her in his dreams.

At first, it was innocuous. A familiar face in a crowd, a reflection in the water. The contexts of the dream would be long gone, but her presence would linger with him long after he awoke. As the scenarios started to escalate, they became much more memorable.

The latestdream nightmare haunted him.

It started in a dark, cool dungeon with his hands and feet chained to the wall with heavy iron shackles. Considering the plans that would soon come to pass, the possibility of him being captured someday was entirely possible. However, in this dream, it was not the Knights of Serios who had taken him hostage. Nor was it Alliance soldiers or the Kingdom’s guards.

It was the work of someone far more dangerous.

Footsteps coming down from the top of a tall, spiraling staircase signaled their arrival. Each step rang in his ears like a funeral bell. Hubert’s blood ran cold as his captor entered his sight. It was Byleth - a twisted facsimile of her. This Byleth had black hair and brilliant red eyes that glowed like embers. Her clothes were stained, her sword still dripping with fresh blood.

This was the Ashen Demon.

Fear had no meaning until those eyes fell on him. With his hands and feet bound, he had nowhere to run. All he could do was watch as this being- this evil creature - drew closer and closer to him.

If he turned away, she’d take his chin in her hand and force him to meet her eyes. She’d run her thumb over his lower lip and once again he could see that hunger. Every time she touched him he felt his mind grow hazy. The Ashen Demon tangled her fingers in his hair and with a sharp pull she tilted his head back and pressed her lips to his exposed neck. Her mouth parted. Hubert felt the drag of sharp canines against his throat. Desire would swell in his chest, a low moan escaped him as her other hand journeyed over his body. Each wicked caress caused his heart to race. An Intoxicating scent surrounded him and drew him deeper into her control.

His body ached for something, and in his delirium, he begged for more.

Then before he could get any relief… he awoke.

That morning as he sat up in bed, his sheets soaked with sweat, Hubert cursed his traitorous brain for concocting such depravity. The frustration rivaled his humiliation for having such a salacious dream about his enemy. Surely, this was the result of some spell that she had cast on him when he was unaware. As soon as she was taken care of, the spell would be broken and he could sleep soundly. The nightmares would finally cease.

After the weeks of resigning himself to situations of forced bonding, an opportunity to get his revenge arrived. That night as he looked down from his window, he managed to catch his dear professor walking the grounds.

Alone.

Hubert slipped his favorite dagger into the hidden sheathe that was sewn into his sleeve. He left his quarters with maiming on the mind.

The night air was cool and crisp. In his pursuit he admired the way that the moonlight fell over the monastery. While he looked forward to dismantling the church, he had to admit that Garreg Mach was a splendid work of architecture.

It did not take long for him to catch up to her. For whatever reason he found her wandering the town residential area outside of the monastery. Being as it was quite late, there was no one around.

A perfect stage for his plan to play out.

After a few minutes of stalking her from afar, he made his advance, For a brief moment, he lost sight of her as she rounded a corner. He mentally prepared himself and he followed. But before he could finally catch her unaware she stopped suddenly. Quickly, Hubert stepped into an alleyway just before she turned around. He held his breath.

There were no more footsteps.

Caught.

Silently cursing himself, he stepped out of the shadows and approached her.

With a bitter smile on his face, he sighed and brushed his hair back, “It seems I am discovered. I suppose that means assassination is out of the question. At least for now.”

The professor was less than amused. In the dim glow of the city lanterns, he could see suspicion cloud over her gaze - rightfully so, given his intentions.

Hands on her hips like a disapproving mother, she challenged him. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Merely keeping an eye on you, for the moment. Nothing to be concerned over.”

Already so confrontational. So unlike her behavior around the monastery, where other people could observe her. This one was a snake in the grass for certain. Cold-blooded, slippery, and unreadable. Edelgard would thank him later for taking care of this problem. Of course, for the time being, he would let her believe that the professor merely had a run-in with a ruffian on the street.

Hubert had to admit, it had been difficult to even get this far.

“It’s rather late out, Professor. A girl like you could find herself facing all sorts of trouble on a night like this.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What was that?” Her words were venomous. With time he was beginning to notice cracks in her armor, the small indications of her true feelings that she kept locked away for whatever reason.

He dismissed her question with a hand wave and stepped closer. This time he would take care not to give her any lingering touches. Tonight he wouldn’t be the one being thrown around.

The air between them was thick with tension as he continued to question her. “What are you doing out so late, Professor? Waiting for someone...perhaps an informant? There are rumors of an enemy among us, after all.”

That so-called “enemy” was, of course, the future emperor, Hubert himself, and the Death Knight. But she didn't need to know that just yet.

After a long pause, Byleth’s small smile caught him off guard. She tutted and shook her head in disbelief.

“I can see you still have much to learn. Did I not tell you to treat your superiors with more respect?” Her arms crossed over her chest

Superior?

Her?

A scornful laugh escaped him. The gall of this woman was unbelievable.

“You were quite clear, professor. Should I encounter someone superior, I will make sure to take your advice into consideration.”

A satisfied smirk lingered on his lips as she stared him down.

When she started to walk towards him, he prepared to draw his weapon. His hand itched to scar that pretty little face of hers. However, as she approached a feeling of dread washed over him. Despite his earlier resolve, Hubert found himself backing away from her instinctively.

“Now, now, Hubert,” Byleth chided as she pressed her hand flat against his chest and pushed him back- his shoulders bumping against the solid brick of the building behind him “Why must you fight me every step of the way? I'm beginning to think you might be egging me on…” A smile teased on her lips. “Do you want me to teach you a lesson so badly?”

A familiar feeling settled in his stomach as he found himself paralyzed by her touch. A pang of something primal, some unbidden desire that he had learned to quell. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. His lips drew back as he bared his teeth, “Preposterous.”

“Is it? I don't think that's true.” She countered.

Hubert felt the weight of his dagger against his arm. It was time to strike.

Hubert prepared to--

Hubert’s breath hitched as Byleth pressed her palm between his legs. His mind blanked.

Is this really happening?

That question was quickly answered in the affirmative as he felt her grope him through his trousers. Uncurbed desire bloomed inside him, and he felt himself grow hard in her hand. The dream that had plagued him was becoming less of a dream and more of a premonition. But this would stop now. Hubert von Vestra would not be molested by some classless wench.

With practiced ease, he let his hidden blade slide from his sleeve into his hand. Quickly, Hubert raised the dagger and lunged - the metal gliding through the air ready to slice her open.

Before it met her skin she pinned his wrist against the wall and squeezed him tightly. With a shocked yelp, he released the blade from his hand, it hit the stone with a loud clang. Byleth kicked it away from them.

Then like he was a doll to be played with she twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him roughly against the wall. Arm bent and painfully contorted, he hissed in pain. The rough brick scraped his face as she pressed her body flush against his. The pressure of her knee pushing between his legs made his mouth run dry. When Hubert felt her breath against his back it sent pleasant shivers down his spine.

“My, Hubert,” she cooed, “I didn’t know you liked playing with swords. Should we adjust your training appropriately?”

“Get off me you filth!” he snarled as he tried to push back against her. It only served to demonstrate the vast difference in their strength... She didn’t move an inch. What little strength he did have was quickly being drained from him as he felt her arm snake around his waist.
His cock was heavy against her hand. He was trapped by his professor against an alley wall, in the dead of night.

Languid strokes drew soft gasps from him as she felt him up. With her knee between his legs, it was impossible to twist out of her grasp. Her hips were grinding against him from behind, and humiliation washed over him as he felt himself push back against her to chase that feeling. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt his energy leave him.

Each touch was just enough stimulation to keep him on the edge; but not enough to push him over. Precum started to soak through his trousers, and a muffled whimper escaped him as she focused her assault on the tip of his cock. Hubert was completely at her mercy.

Her breathy laugh tickled his ear. “Feeling good?”

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop himself from moaning in response. It did feel good. Very good. Parched, he licked his lips and took a sharp breath. He was so, so close.

Suddenly - her hand withdrew. Hubert’s eyes snapped open. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a halfhearted glare. It was rendered quite ineffective by the desire that clouded his gaze.

Feigning innocent, she tilted her head and looked up at him. Now he could see her face was slightly flushed, but the hungry, predatory look remained in her eyes. With another half-smile, she asked, "Do you still want this filth to let you go?”

Panting, he stared at her, his mind swimming with possible responses.

To escape was the objective, wasn’t it?

Yet his body refused to respond. The word ‘yes’ was on the tip of his tongue, but his mouth was unwilling to let him speak.

Shifting under her, he felt constricted by his clothing. Not too long ago the night was quite cool, but now an overwhelming heat was taking over him. As his reason fought against his desire, she patiently smoothed her hand over his thigh. Everywhere she touched him burned like flames against his skin. With a sinking feeling, he swallowed and worried his lip. What could he do? Right now he was completely at the professor's mercy. Heart heavy with shame he avoided her eyes as he responded through gritted teeth, “No. Please… continue.”

“Will you promise to play nice?” She asked as her hand trailed down his inner thigh.

Swallowing, he gave her a curt nod.

After a moment the grip that kept his wrist pinned behind his back began to relax. “Understand that if you act out, I will not hesitate to tear you apart.”

With that warning she let him go. The tension in his body released, his arm and shoulder sore from holding such a position. Hubert had to prop himself against the wall to avoid falling over, still feeling weak.

“On your knees, Hubert.”

With a mind clouded from desire, he obeyed.

As instructed, he kneeled on the dirty, rain damp stone. Thankfully, he couldn't hear anyone talking or walking nearby. For whatever it was that she had planned, it seemed they would be alone. For now.

Which was a good thing, he thought, as he watched Bylth unfasten her belt and unhook the front of her shorts. Before he could grasp what was happening she was standing over him, her legs spread just wide enough for her ankles to hug the sides of his thighs. Leaning slightly back, he found his hands reaching around her to squeeze the back of her thighs. Hubert’s head was level between her legs - she was nearly straddling his face. The intention was quickly becoming clear.

Byleth combed her hand through his hair as she hooked her thumb under her waistband and pulled down her shorts. To his surprise, what he had assumed were leggings were actually long stockings held up by a black garter belt. Even more surprising - his dear professor had been walking around without any underwear.

Eyes wide and face red, he swallowed and quickly turned away. Though he was not ignorant of the female sex, there was quite a difference between an anatomy textbook and what was before him. A diagram couldn’t properly compare to the real thing, obviously.

Apparently it was clear that he was overwhelmed.

Byleth started to pet him, running her fingers through his hair. Her nails dragged lightly across his scalp and soothed his fragile mind. Hubert leaned into her touch.

She tipped his head up to look at her, and he licked his lips - face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. Suddenly self-conscious, he stammered, “I have not… this is my first…” Byleth silenced him by pressing her finger against his lips.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you're a fast learner.” She punctuated her statement with a smug smirk. “Just mind your teeth, and I’ll guide you.” As she said that she tugged gently on his hair close to the back of his scalp. “Tap on my thigh if you want to stop. Understand?”

“Ah...Y-yes.” He smoothed his hand over her thigh.

"Yes, what?"

Something about the lilt in her voice, gentle but commanding, made his cock throb. With eyes clouded with want - he shuddered, "Yes, professor." His mouth, once dry, started to water.

After a steadying breath, he dipped his head between her legs. His breath ghosted over her, and he tentatively traced his tongue over her delicate anatomy. A heady aroma hit him and flooded his senses and he felt her tremble, if only slightly. It did wonders for his confidence.

Feeling bolder, he squeezed her thighs as he dared to explore her with his tongue. The taste was indescribable. And, to his surprise, not unpleasant in the least. In fact, the more he tasted, the more he craved.

Mouthing against her skin, he brushed against something small and firm. Byleth’s hips jerked slightly, and he pulled away to lick his lips. In his memory he recalled a lecture about the erogenous bundle of nerves that (according to Professor Manuela) most men ignored. When his lips brushed against it again Byleth tangled both of her hands in his hair and rocked her hips against him. Byleth purred as his tongue laved against her clit. "Mm, that's it. Right there, keep going…"

With that encouragement he swirled his tongue around her and gently sucked against her most sensitive part. A small shock- like electricity - ran down his spine when he heard her soft moan. The normally composed professor was starting to come undone. Hubert established a rhythm that kept her moans coming. He breathed deeply and pressed his face against her pussy. It was enough to coax a groan from his lips. Her powerful thighs hugged his head as his voice rumbled against her. Every so often he would switch between tracing her lips with his tongue to laving against her swollen clit. Hubert established a rhythm that kept those moans coming.

Above him, he heard Byleths breathing become heavy.

Once again he recalled a previous conversation he once overheard between Sylvain Gautier and Caspar regarding a romantic exploit. Some sort of special technique that now he found to be quite pertinent.

Hubert smoothed one of his hands up the curve of her toned thigh while the other delved between her legs and slowly pressed inside her. A soft gasp escaped her parted lips as he stroked her, curling his fingers inside her as if beckoning her forward. His knuckles kneaded against a spot that caused Byleth to spasm, her hands gripped his hair tighter as she moaned. He devoted his mouth to her clit as he mercilessly assaulted the special ‘spot’ inside her. Each moan was growing more intense now, echoing against the alley walls.

When he felt her spasm around his fingers - felt her thigh quake under his hand- he knew he had done his job well. Her hips trembled as he slowly withdrew his hand.
Panting, Byleth released his hair and gripped hir shoulders tightly as she let herself drop down into his lap. Her blue-green hair was damp with sweat, and she wore a tired, but blissed expression.

With his hand still slick, Hubert sucked his fingers clean, savoring her taste on his tongue. The shame he felt earlier seemed like a dream. Fascinated, she watched as each digit disappeared into his mouth, his lips and chin glistening in the moonlight.

Panting, she chuckled, “I, ha, knew you had a talented mouth...”

Suddenly she grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him into a fervent kiss. The shock was enough to push him over the edge. His hips jerked as he came, never even taking his clothes off. Somehow that didn’t matter to him. Hubert moaned into her mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the weight of her breasts against his chest. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he resigned to resting them on the curve of her waist.

---

A week later

Byleth was setting out textbooks and quills for her next class when the doors to the Black Eagle classroom swung open. Startled, she dropped the quills, feathers going everywhere. She sighed.

“Professor! What is the meaning of this?” Hubert’s tone indicated he was furious, but he looked more embarrassed than anything. Bemused, she watched as he stormed across the room toward her.

“Ah, Hubert. What is it that you’re…” the professor started to ask.

For an answer he slapped a White Heron Cup poster onto the desk in front of her. Three participants were listed for each house, and under the Black Eagles was Hubert’s name. Now things were coming together.

“You cannot be serious. Surely, Dorothea would be the best choice for this event.” Hubert spoke low, his pretty green eyes searching hers for some semblance of humor. Absolutely delighted by his reaction, she gave him a slight smile.

“It is true...Dorothea is an excellent singer, and a capable dancer,” she admitted. A look of relief washed over Hubert. Byleth let him delude himself for a moment before adding, “However, I think you have the most potential to win. You will be representing our house, Hubert.” The crushing realization of his fate made him look adorably pitiful. With a dejected sigh, he sat down at the desk and held his head in his hands.

With a chuckle, she rounded the desk and patted his back, “Aw, Hubie. Don’t be sad.” She cooed. The glare he gave her was so cute, she had to refrain from kissing him right there. It wouldn’t do to give him too much candy. She didn’t want him to grow spoiled.

Maybe just a taste. Byleth leaned down and brushed his hair back, then whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry. Your professor will give you a private dance lesson.”

Chapter Text

Pulling weeds was the last thing that Edelgard would consider doing on such a lovely, sunny day. However, it would be poor decorum to avoid a chore simply because it was unpleasant. No one should be above hard work.

Still, it was a pain to have to kneel in the courtyard and grasp at plants as the sun beat down on her brow. The fact that she had to do it with every boisterous Ferdinand von Aegir of all people just rubbed salt in the wound.

As always, the Prime Minister to-be had something to talk about at length. Today’s subject happened to be Hubert. Edelgard mentally prepared herself to suffer through a tirade the moment that they found out that her vassal had been chosen for the White Heron Cup.

“I honestly can NOT believe that Professor Byleth chose Hubert of all people! Does he even know how to dance? Honestly, Edelgard, I wish I could properly express my frustration.” He said as he expressed it quite easily. Ferdinand punctuated his bitterness by grabbing weeds by the fistfuls, angrily stuffing them in the burlap sack beside him.

Edelgard sighed and looked over at him.“I-”

“I mean really,” Ferdinand interrupted, clearly absorbed in his own world, “How can he possibly compare to someone like me? Someone who has been educated in the proper ways of the waltz since I was a child. I am graceful, elegant, poised, and a delight to behold!”

At this point Edelgard was sure that Ferdinand had started to uproot perfectly healthy grass in his flustered state. Then she heard him mumble under his breath, “Even you would be a better choice than that… that gangly creature.”

“Ferdinand.” She warned. Her tone caught his attention. When Ferdinand looked over at her, he appeared to realize how un-noble he was acting. For once, he had the decency to look at least a little apologetic.

Edelgard sighed and sat up, brushing the dirt from her hands. “It would be a lie to say that I wasn't surprised at the professor’s decision. However, I trust her to make the right choice for our house. She has yet to let us down.”

Ferdinand's shoulders dipped; he knew what she said was true. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighed as well, “Yes… As reluctant as I am to say this, I agree with you. Still...I am at a loss to her rationalization.”

There was a pause, then he added. “Although…”

“Although?” She repeated. It was rare for Ferdinand actually to think before saying something aloud.

“I must say that recently Hubert has appeared less...ghoulish.” Ferdinand mused, “Almost ...charming? At least, he is far more charming than he used to be.”

As backhanded as it was, to hear Ferdinand compliment Hubert was another rarity. However, she had to agree with him.

For a few weeks now, Edelgard had noticed changes in Hubert. His improved complexion for instance. His black locks were shinier, his face looked less gaunt, and most surprisingly - he had been eating regularly.

Since they were children, Hubert had had very little interest in food. As a result, his meals were few and far between. When he did eat, it was very little. After he reached puberty, he became quite skinny; almost alarmingly so.

All of these improvements to his health started after Hubert and the professor started to act friendly towards each other. During the day Byleth would drop by with snacks for Hubert. She’d wait patiently until he finished them, no doubt humiliating him in the process.

Sometimes Edelgard would hear a knock on Hubert's door during the night. She realized it was Byleth, and Edelagrd leaned against her bedroom wall as she listened to the professor tell Hubert to go to bed. Of course, he would always protest.

But soon as she left, Edelgard would peek outside her door and see that Hubert had snuffed out his candles for the night.

Their sudden closeness was extraordinary in and of itself. For a long time, she assumed Hubert hated the professor. He spent his days glaring at her from afar and spoke often of his distrust in her.

Something had happened between them. No matter how she asked, Hubert would tactfully avoid talking about it.

Regardless, Byleth’s concern for Hubert’s health was most welcome. Whatever she was doing, it worked. It was more than Edelgard had ever been able to accomplish.

Ferdinand’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Well. I hope his charm is enough to bring us to a win.” Several more weeds disappeared into his bag. When there was no more to be found in the courtyard, stood up.

“Done! Behold, the total number of weeds in my bag exceed yours by exactly 13, Edelgard! Once again, I am superior to you. Weeding must be one of my many hidden talents, would you not agree?.” His chest puffed out with misplaced pride.

“Congratulations,” Edelgard rolled her eyes. At least they were done for the day.

Once she bid Ferdinand goodbye, she considered meeting up with Hubert to discuss some of their plans. But when she arrived at the Officer’s Academy she found a note from Hubert on her desk. Inside it read that the Professor had asked that Hubert accompany her to the sauna.

Edelgard shrugged and pocketed the note. Perhaps another time then.

---

The Church’s decision to add a sauna to the monastery was odd, to say the least.

Not only was it a frivolous purchase, but for some reason, they had decided against having a separate sauna for men and women. Hubert wondered if the Archbishop had somehow forgotten that most of the students were teenagers in the throes of puberty. By allowing them to share the space the establishment was practically inviting inappropriate behavior.

Hubert often saw unscrupulous male students prowling outside the building - looking for some unsuspecting co-ed to invite. So, as he passed by the building on his way to the Officers Academy, he was not surprised to see Sylvain enter the sauna. It was not Hubert’s concern what the Gautier boy was up to. As long as he did not attempt to make a move on any of the Black Eagles, he was free to sow his oats wherever he pleased.

Then only a few seconds later Hubert saw Byleth. With her bathing supplies in one hand and her smallclothes folded over the other, she walked up the steps towards the sauna.

Dread settled in his chest.

After quickly scrawling a note to Edelgard on parchment, Hubert bolted across the monastery grounds and retrieved his showering necessities. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was overreacting. Sylvain was strong, but from personal experience, he knew that the professor was more than capable of defending herself.

But then the thought that she may return his advances crossed his mind.

He ran as fast as he could to intervene before either possibility could come to fruition.

---

As he suspected, by the time Hubert stepped into the steam room Sylvain was already making his move. The Gautier boy was sitting next to Byleth; his arm rested on the back of the bench, precariously close to her shoulders. Sylvain was whispering something in her ear.

Hubert’s fists clenched at his sides.

When he entered, they both looked up. Byleth gave him a small wave, and to Sylvain's dismay she invited him to join them. The look of disappointment on his face was delightful.

Hubert took a seat on the other side of Byleth, glaring at Sylvain with murderous intent. Intimidated, the redhead removed his arm from where it rested behind Byleth and scooted away from her.

Feeling triumphant, Hubert crossed his arms over his chest.

It was a brief moment of contentment.

Hubert found it difficult to even pretend to be engaged in their conversation. As always, Sylvain was whining about his romantic misadventures. Every so often Byleth would (rightfully) admonish him for his behavior.

That struck Hubert as particularly ironic. Byleth was not exactly the best example of a person who had healthy relationships.

If you could call whatever they had a relationship, that is.

When the room began to cool Byleth stood up and walked across the room to pour water over to the heated stones. Hubert caught Sylvain wolfishly staring at her rear.

With a throat clear, Hubert got Sylvain’s attention. Sylvain frowned, then mouthed, “What?”

Hubert pointed to Byleth and shook his head. Rage flared in his chest when Sylvain had the nerve to roll his eyes at him.

But when Hubert raised his hand as it started to glow with magical energy- suddenly Sylvain had something important to do elsewhere. Hubert waved him goodbye.

As soon as the door closed, the tension melted from his shoulders.

It was then that Hubert realized that now they were alone. There had been no other incidents since the night that they had their… interaction. Hubert nearly thought it to be a dream - a fantasy that had gone too far. But he knew that wasn't the case. He remembered it all vividly.

Her taste, her touch, the sound of her voice. Many nights had been spent recalling how the Ashen Demon bent him to her will. Lost in his thoughts, Hubert was startled when she spoke.

“Thank you.” As if sensing his confusion, she clarified, “I saw you heading in the opposite direction when I walked over here. Did you change your plans because you were worried I’d be eaten up?” Byleth’s eyes glinted with mischievous intent.

Scoffing, he shook his head, “You have an active imagination. I simply was dropping by the classroom before coming here. I had no idea Sylvain was here.”

It was a poor lie, but he would stick to that story. To his relief, she let the matter go and changed the subject. “Are you nervous about the competition?”

“Yes, you could say that. Though it is normal for someone inexperienced and unqualified to be nervous in this situation.” The decision to choose him of all people would never cease to confuse him. Even a dog would be a better candidate.

She chuckled and shook her head, “I think you sell yourself short. The way you carry yourself on the battlefield is elegant and precise. With some practice, I think you will do very well.”

Again, another smile.

Byleth had undoubtedly become more emotive once Sylvain left. Hubert tried not to overthink the meaning behind that fact.

“Yes, well.” He tried not to roll his eyes, just to prove he was better than Gautier. “Practice certainly would be beneficial. When were you planning on assisting me with that?” Though he dreaded participating, he would do his best for the good of the house. A dancer would be a great asset in the months to come.

“You have a point.” Byleth admitted, “Would you like to start tomorrow?”

“That sounds feasible.” he nodded running through his schedule in his mind. “I’m available after ten tomorrow morning, outside of my lessons, of course.”

Byleth cast a diminutive smile in his direction, “It's a date, then.”

When his face turns red, he blames it on the steam.

They sat there in comfortable silence. She leaned back on the bench and stretched her arms up over her head. Sweat had begun to bead on her skin - and her clothes were damp from the steam. Her tank top clung to her chest in all the right ways.

Disgusted with himself, Hubert averted his eyes and focused all of his attention on his feet.

Suddenly he felt her hand upon his thigh. It caused a shiver to run through his entire body.

“You have lovely legs, did you know that?” Byleth asked, and Hubert wondered if he had heard her correctly. His legs were not ugly, nor were they particularly beautiful.

“Assuming your question isn't rhetorical…” He frowned, “I don't pay attention to such things. Nor do I plan on starting now.”

Surprisingly, his flippant attitude didn’t dissuade her. “Well, it's true. Slender, attractive, not to mention long.” Again, her words were tinged with mischievous energy.

“Your eyesight must be failing you.” He smirked. Somehow Hubert had a feeling about where this conversation was leading.

“I suppose beauty is subjective. “ Byleth glanced down at his legs, looking over his calves. Then she added, “Though, I am surprised you don’t shave your legs.”

Huh.

That caught him off guard.

“What, did you perhaps think I was smooth all over? Like a young boy?” He asked mockingly, as he continued to stare down at the floor.

“Not necessarily.” His heart leaped in his chest as she leaned over and cupped his face in her hand. She forced him to turn his head to look at her. “I just assumed you preferred a clean cut. Like you do on your face.” She ran her thumb over his lower lip.

He swallowed.

There was no avoiding her eyes now. And once again, he saw hunger reflected back at him.

Though he tried to conceal his nervousness, his voice gave it away. “I ..I hardly have the time to go to that extreme. Even if I did, it would be a waste since I seldom leave my legs bare.”

Nodding, she brushed his hair back behind his ear. Perspiration gathered on his brow.

“True. Though, you will have to once you win the White Heron Cup.” She smirked, “Compared to what you wear now, the dancer uniform would leave you quite exposed.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to him. While the male dancer uniform was more modest than it was for the women it did show off more leg than he cared for. Really, such an outfit belonged on stage at the opera house, not the battlefield.

It was not his job to decide such things, however.

Then Byleth’s hand traveled higher up his thigh.

“I find shaved legs very attractive on a man.” Her voice dipped low and seductive. As she leaned closer Hubert felt her breasts press against his arm. Transfixed, Hubert’s eyes traveled down to her lips.

Knowing he would come to regret it, he mumbled begrudgingly, “I suppose...Since it would grow back, perhaps..” He trailed off, his face red.

In response Byleth just smiled.

---

It was a bad idea.

Besides the fact that they were doing this at the monastery, there are no doors in the shower area outside of the steam room. All that separated them from any unsuspecting visitor was a flimsy curtain pulled over the shower stall.

More than that, Hubert knows that this woman is dangerous. Each dalliance would only complicate things for the Empire in the future. There was no telling what her true intentions were. Perhaps she wanted intel on their plans, and one she discovered his weakness, she decided to exploit him. Or worse, she would use him to get to Edelgard.

Despite his suspicions, Hubert constantly found himself doing whatever she asked of him.

The cramped shower stall was clearly not built for two people in mind.

Hubert leaned against the shower wall as Byleth sat upon a small stool by his feet. Beside her was a bucket full of warm water as well as her bathing supplies.

She used a sponge to wet his skin, then lathered soap over his leg, starting with the right. He shivered as her fingers glided over his calf muscle - and again when her fingers brushed the bend of his knee. “You’re so sensitive,” she chuckled. Hubert huffed but didn’t argue with her.

When she produced a straight edge razor from her things, Hubert’s eyes widened. It’s similar to the one he owned, but there was a rose etched into the handle. It must have been a gift.

After taking a few experimental strokes over his thigh, she started to shave him. Beginning just below his knee she used the sharp blade to scrape the hair off. Every so often, she would wet the blade and lather more soap onto his skin.

It was strangely intimate. Despite his better judgment, Hubert trusted that she knew what she was doing. The professor would not intentionally hurt him - As long as he behaved.

Still, Hubert was thrilled at the idea that at any moment she could turn the blade on him. A single slice could cause him to bleed out if she chose the right area on his leg. Knowing her, she was equally excited by this knowledge.

Byleth’s dedication to her task was impressive; he can see her brow furrow as she concentrated on each stroke. When his right leg was done, she rinsed his leg off and glided her hand over his smooth skin. Hubert shivered. The razor had left him sensitive.

His cock stirred between his legs.

Thankfully, she doesn't take notice.

Byleth moved to sit by his left side and began to shave the other leg in kind. When her breath ghosted over his thigh, Hubert inhaled sharply. Desire flared in his breast. He willed himself to calm down.

Once she was finished, she rinsed him thoroughly. Knelt in front of him, her hands run up both of his legs - all the way from his ankles to the slight swell of his thighs.

“As I imagined, you’ve only gotten more lovely.” She purred and pressed a kiss to his knee.

Blushing, he opened his mouth to argue...but found himself unable to speak.

Suddenly she stood up and pushed him against the shower wall—her chest flush against his stomach.

Hubert’s breath hitched as he looked down into her eyes.

A switch had been flipped. Smirking, she reached around him and turned on the showerhead. The water, cold at first, made him gasp, and soon both of their clothes were soaked to the skin. Like this, Hubert could see the shape of her nipples peek through the light brown fabric. The tank top clings to her curves like a second skin and left little to the imagination.

The case is the same for him, he suspected.

“Take off your shirt.” She ordered.

Without question, Hubert peeled it off over his head, struggling at first since the fabric was waterlogged. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pulled him down into a devouring kiss.

The surprised noise that escaped him is masked by the sound water hitting the tile. His eyes fell closed and he kissed her back. His hands fell to rest to her waist. His cock is hard - trapped between them. The friction of her body against his as she dominates his mouth drew low moans from his chest.

He’s sincerely disappointed when she pulls away. As Byleth moved down his body, she left kisses in her wake, over his neck, his collarbone, and then his chest. Each one left him craving more.

When her mouth envelopes one of his nipples, Hubert has to cover his to muffle his surprised yelp.

Her tongue rolled over his sensitive nub. Each time she sucked and lapped her tongue over his skin he felt himself burn with humiliation. Despite this, he moaned, arching his back against the wall. The sounds of her lascivious sucking are camouflaged by the running water. His hips buck when her teeth scrape against him.

Once she is satisfied, she moves the other side of his chest and bestows the same treatment on his other nipple. By the end of it, his poor nipples are flushed pink. Smirking, she flicked them with her nails. Hubert gasped and was mortified by the needy whimper that followed.

“You love this.” Byleth's voice was just loud enough to be heard over the water. He shook his head, but it's a poor argument when she pinches his swollen nubs, which elicits another wanton moan from him.

Smirking, she softly kissed his chest, “You’re so hard.”

The Professor wasn’t wrong. His cock was straining against his wet clothes and more than anything he wanted to pull his shorts off and let it breathe. But he was not instructed to, so he doesn’t.

“I imagine most men would find it difficult not to react when thrust into such a position.” he quipped, panting.

Her hands glided up his thigh, then pressed between his legs.

Hubert hissed and arched into her touch.

Then he watched in disbelief as she pulled away and started to gather her things. Without a hint of explanation, she pulled back the curtain and looked over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” She smirked, waving at him before she exited the stall.

Hubert stared ahead, his mouth slightly open. When he heard the door open and close, he sank to the floor, his chest heaving.

That bitch.

He slammed his fist into the ground and growled in frustration. Grumbling, he untied the cord of his bathing shorts and took his ‘predicament’ into his own hands.

---

Thoroughly humiliated, he walked back to his room in shame.

Outside his door, he found a small package and a note waiting for him. Inside the plain wrapping is a bottle of lotion, and the note has instructions to apply it before bed and in the morning. Hubert recognizes the handwriting as Byleth. The paper is crumpled and tossed in the trash.

That night Huber’s legs feel strange against the smooth fabric of his bedclothes. It feels like he could slide right out of them if he moved too quickly.

Knowing it would be ill-advised to ignore her instructions, he rolled his pants up and moisturized his legs. The lotion felt good on his skin; cool and refreshing. It smelled faintly of cucumbers.

Before he went to bed, he thought about what happened. His face burned red, with anger and desire equally.

Though he suspected he might never be granted the opportunity, he finds himself craving her heat. He imagined her breasts against his bare skin and the drag of her nails on his back.

How tight she would feel around his cock.

For the second time that day, he took himself in his hand. Hubert leaned up against his headboard as he started to stroke away from his frustration. After a moment, he reached over and grabbed the bottle of lotion on his nightstand. He squirted a generous amount in his palm, then wrapped his fingers around his cock once more.

The sensation is infinitely more pleasant.

His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes and imagined that it was her hand that brought him closer and closer to the edge. A low moan resounded in his chest; he covered his mouth as his hips jerked into his fist. Soon his hand dripped with his spent.

A hollow feeling fell over him.

Panting, he looked up at the ceiling of his room.

Not since he was a pubescent boy had he masturbated twice in one day. It left him feeling exhausted.

Groaning, Hubert closed his eyes as sleep settled in his bones. This woman would surely be the death of him.

Chapter Text

The sound of rain against his window woke Hubert from his restless slumber. The old bed creaked in protest as Hubert sat up and stretched his long, aching limbs. Somehow he had managed to wake up more exhausted than ever. 

The day's schedule played back in his mind as he slipped out of bed. When his toes touched the cool hardwood, he felt a rush of cool air dance over his bare legs, sending shivers up the length of his spine. The sensation triggered the memories to come flooding back, and with them came a renewed sense of frustration. 

Anger settled in the pit of his stomach as he got dressed. 

If she wanted to toy with him, he would give her no quarter. He vowed to never again entertain her sick fetishes or accept her bribes. And if she thought for even a second that he would come to her aid in the sauna then she was sorely mistaken. 

He stared at himself in the mirror and attempted to make himself look better than he felt. Straightened up his collar, brushed his hair back. It held for a moment before falling back into his face. Sighing, he brushed his bangs to the side. 

While he wished that he could avoid spending any time alone with her, the White Heron Cup was quickly approaching. To have a dancer would give them a distinct advantage over the other houses. So although he loathed to admit it...her guidance would be helpful. There was little other choice but to attend her lessons a bit longer. 

The first part of the morning was spent doing his routine; He attended to whatever Lady Edelgard requested of him. Once he was dismissed, he completed his part of the weekly chores, stable duty with Ferdinand of all people. He had to take a long shower after that. 

A grim expression set in Hubert’s features when the clock struck a quarter till-ten. The rain was still in full force as he quickly traveled across the monastery. By the time he arrived, he looked like a wet, angry cat. 

Due to the inclement weather, Seteth had permitted them to practice in one of the unused conference rooms. When he arrived, he found that the suits of armor and desks had all been pushed to the room’s outer edges, leaving them with more than enough space.

He took off his waterlogged boots and hung up his uniform jacket. It appeared that he was the first to arrive. 

Of course, she's late, he thought. By this point, he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it seemed to be her goal in life to make this more difficult. It probably thrilled her to keep him waiting like an obedient dog.

The clock ticked on. 

By the time he heard footsteps approach, he was no longer dripping wet -- just damp. 

Hubert intended to ask why she was permitted to be late while all of her students were expected to be early for class. Then he would get right to the point and confront her for her transgression in the shower. An apology was in order before they went any further.

However, when Byleth appeared in the entryway, he found himself experiencing a momentary loss for words. 

Instead of her usual clothes, Byleth was wearing a black, military-style academy uniform. It was styled similarly to his own, but with silver aiguillettes instead of gold. It certainly was a change from her everyday outfit, certainly more practical at least.  Well, except for the short, pleated skirt, that is. That and the 4-inch heels she sported. What sort of mercenary would wear such ridiculous footwear? 

“Morning.” She greeted him, 

“Mm.” He nodded, though his attention was fixed on whatever she was hiding under her cape.

He cautiously reached for his sword. Was she brandishing a weapon of some kind? 

Those concerns fell to the wayside when he saw it was only a flat, plain brown box. Curious, he peeked over her shoulder when Byleth set it down on one of the desks and began to unwrap her precious cargo. 

It was, he assumed, a dancer’s ensemble. It was unheard of to dress in full when it was just practice, but then again, Byleth had very unconventional teaching methods. 

“I apologize for the wait; I had to stop by Bernadetta’s to pick this up. She helped me make some adjustments that I think will suit you well.” Byleth explained as she handed him the uniform.

Hubert felt himself go on edge, catching the hint of mischief in her words. Was he expected to dress up as well? There was a brief pause before he tentatively unfolded the garment and held it out in front of him. 

Upon closer inspection, it was clear that what he had in his hands was not combat-ready. 

Far from it. 

It lacked the protective undershirt, for one.  Instead, it left half of the wearer's chest exposed to the air, stripping the already skimpy clothing of its utility. High slits cut into the sides, held loosely together by metal clasps.  And while the shorts remained, their length had been shaved down by at least 3 inches. 

A small heart was cut into the leather collar.

"What is this?" He asked flatly.  

She stared at him silently. 

Expectantly.  

When the implications became clear, Hubert scoffed and pushed the uniform back into her arms. “Absolutely not.”

A flash of annoyance crossed her. With a furrowed brow, she nodded, firmly pushing what was basically just a dress back against his chest. 

Infuriated, Hubert refused to even touch the thing. 

He kept his arms stiff at his sides. “I am afraid you are sorely mistaken, Professor .” His lip curled, baring his teeth as the anger from the night before welled up within him.

“This is not a burlesque show, understand? I am not a-- a pawn to be used to satisfy your sick fetishes!”  Hubert fumed, his fingers digging into his palms. “Did you really think I would acquiesce to your demands after what you did to me?”

That seemed to surprise her; at least, he assumed the slight raise of her eyebrows was due to surprise. A curious look crossed her face. "What I did to you?"

Settle down, Hubert. He chided himself, taking a measured breath. His face burned as he gritted out, "Acting dumb does not suit you. You know perfectly well what I am talking about."

Again.

Again she gave him that stupidly oblivious look. Nearly a minute stretched by before she asked, "You're upset that I… made you shave your legs?"

"No.” Hubert smacked his palm against the desk beside him. “I am speaking of how you--!” 

A brilliant red blush traveled up his neck. Hubert leaned down and brought his voice down to a low whisper. “How you toyed with my body. Only to leave me alone to deal with the… the ‘aftermath,’ as it were." 

That at least seemed to jog her memory. Hubert felt the vein on his temple throb as she looked away. If it was anyone else, he would think it was out of embarrassment.  "Oh.” 

“Yes. Oh .” He parroted mockingly with his arms, crossed his chest.

She shifted from one boot to the other, considering her new words carefully. Finally, she sighed and looked up at him. Perhaps acting was in her future, judging by the almost apologetic look she was giving him. 

“That was a bit selfish of me, wasn’t it?” 

He nodded. 

Thinning her lips, she looked back down to the dress in her arms. Then she stepped closer and met his eyes. “What if I made it up to you today?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Despite his vows from earlier, he could not help but admit he was interested. He huffed, quirking his brow. "I'm listening."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a small, knowing smile. "Practice with me while wearing this, and I will pleasure you with my mouth."

Drawing a sharp breath, Hubert’s eyes traveled downward, his gaze settled on her mouth. 

Her lips were full, pink, and perfect. How many times had he wondered how they might feel around him? Until now, Byleth had never touched his sex directly, much less with her mouth. The idea made his cock twitch in interest. 

Taking a shaky breath, he leaned back against the desk as she stepped even closer to him until the toes of their boots touched. "How can I be certain that this isn't an empty promise?"

"You can't,” Byleth admitted, leaning closer until her chest pressed firmly against his. “All you can do is trust that I intend to hold to my word."

Blue eyes stared deeply into green. 

His willpower lost in favor of his cock. Growling, he snatched the garment from her and pointed to the door, “ Fine. Grant me a moment of privacy, and you shall have your way.”  

With an air of superiority, Byleth bowed her head to him and saw herself out.

---

It took a considerable amount of time and effort for Hubert to wrap his mind around how to put the damn thing on. 

Once he did, he started having second thoughts.

His silhouette was clearly visible through the sheer fabric. The cool air gave him goosebumps on his chest, arms, and legs. The dress made him feel more vulnerable than he would ever be otherwise, even if he was completely naked. 

Even the way the material caressed his legs, he walked sent shivers down his spine. 

With his face burned hot with shame, Hubert considered tearing it off. To face whatever punishment Byleth would give him for disobeying. 

But he doesn't. Instead, he foolishly opened the door and called for her.

The moment she walked in, Hubert felt her eyes travel all over his body. Her scrutinizing gaze only served to make him feel even more humiliated. That was the idea, he realized. 

As Byleth walked around him -- appraised him, he felt a familiar tug of arousal in his core. 

“This far exceeds my expectations.” She murmured as she ran her hands down the curve of his waist. Her fingertips ghost over the exposed skin of his hip and thigh. 

The longer he found himself the subject of her scrutinizing gaze, the more hot and humiliated he became. His breath stilled and burned in his chest when she pulled his skirt back and admired his backside. The shorts hugged the swell of his thigh and left very little to the imagination everywhere else. 

Why on earth is she so fascinated by me? he wondered. If it was beauty she was after, then Linhardt would be the obvious choice. Even Caspar and Ferdinand, though he loathed to admit it, were traditionally handsome. Muscular, rugged. Indeed, anyone else would be better suited for such an outrageous outfit. 

The skirt fell from her hand and swayed around his legs like airy tresses.

“Such smooth skin.”  She openly admired him and traced her finger down the deep V of his exposed back, and Hubert prepared himself for more.  

However, she doesn't go any further than that. 

Instead, she left him rigidly standing there while crossed to the other side of the room. The tension in his shoulders abated slightly. Reluctantly, he followed. 

Sitting on one of the desks is a phonograph -- an expensive import. Most likely, the very same one Seteth kept in his office. As it began to spin, Byleth lifted the needle and dropped it onto the record.

The song that plays is unfamiliar, and he suspects it was not native to Fodlan. It is a complex melody composed of zithers, flutes, and drums, led by the rhythmic sound of a tambourine. 

Finally, the lesson began in earnest, and to his surprise, Hubert realized that dancing was more complicated than he had anticipated. 

Each misstep or falter in his movements brought with it the sting of humiliation. How strange to be corrected so often when he had grown so accustomed to garnering approval from his lord. 

Again and again, he found his pride wounded. Sweat gathered at his brow as he fumbled and floundered his way across the makeshift dance floor. 

Byleth seemingly grew tired of watching him from afar and decided that a more hands-on approach was required. 

“Your movement is stilted. You need to loosen your hips, understand? Here, let me show you.” Stepping in front of him, she pulled his arms around her and guided his hands to her hips. 

The raised heel of her boots gave her enough height so that Hubert doesn’t have to bend quite so far to follow her lead. With his head resting on her shoulder, he watched as she held his hands firmly against her hips and rolled them in a smooth figure 8 shape, “Like this, see?” 

As she did so, her backside pressed back against him. Swallowing thickly, he willed away the lurid thoughts that began to take form in his mind and instead did his best to mimic her.   

With a slight smile, she nodded approvingly, “There we go. Now, pay attention to the way I move my arms.” 

While weaving her hands in smooth, fluid motions, she arched back and circled her hands over her head, repeating the movement down the length of her body. 

Each new instruction made Hubert increasingly aware of just how sensual the dance routine was.

The music faded into the background as he listened to her breathing. Felt how the heat bloomed from where their bodies met. Again and again, she demanded that he experience her movement first hand. 

They switched, and he desperately tried to block out the feeling of her hands on his waist. 

The way her breasts pressed against him as he rolled his hips back against her. 

His heartbeat quickened in time to the music's tempo when she twirled across the floor and instructed him to follow suit. 

She complimented his form, and for the first time that day, he felt proud of himself. 

With her hands resting on his back, she guided him to bend over slowly, then again to draw himself back up. 

Another commendation, another bloom of warmth in his chest. 

Using one hand to lightly hold his thigh and the other splayed over his chest, she spotted him, keeping him steady as he balanced on the ball of his foot. At first, he loses his footing, but she quickly rights him up, and Hubert is reminded of her remarkable strength. Not once does she let him fall. 

This continued for over an hour. 

The vigorous exercise left him panting. Perspiration left his dress clinging to his body. As he suspected, the more she touched him, the more his body began to react. By the time the music record ended, his cock was straining uncomfortably against the tight fabric of his shorts. 

Foolishly, Hubert thought that perhaps she would ignore it.  But she would have to be completely numb to overlook the weight of his cock against her backside.  

Smirking, Byleth ground her hips back against him as she held his hands firmly on her waist. 

Gritting his teeth, he stumbled to a stop as she rocked back against him again and again. Each slide of delicious friction left the front of his dress stained with precome. Bowing his head, he caught the scent of her shampoo,  floral hints mixed with the smell of rain and sweat. A low moan rumbled in his throat as she reached back and caressed his thigh.  

“You seem tense, Hubert.” She teased. Her voice was enough to trigger another moan. His hips bucked up against her, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Please.” He begged.

“Hm? What is it that you're asking for?” 

Hubert could swear he heard the smirk in her voice.  

“My reward.” He growled, tugging impatiently at her sleeve. Surely they had practiced long enough for the day.

The lighthearted chuckle echoed in the room. "Oh, I suppose we can stop. For now." 

As she turned, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. Moaning in appreciation, he held her head in his hands as they devoured each other. It wasn’t until his legs bumped against the edge of one of the desks that he realized she had slowly walked him back across the room.  

Byleth effortlessly lifted him up onto the desk, grabbing the leather collar and pulling him down for another searing kiss. 

She held his lower lip between his teeth as she pulled away, leaving him whimpering and wanting more. When he tried to follow her, she held him back with one hand against the exposed part of his chest. 

“Stay.” She ordered. 

Hubert obeyed. 

After retrieving a chair, she set it beside the desk. Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched her kneel on the seat.  A red blush grew over his cheeks as he realized that her shoulders were now level between his legs. 

“Spread your legs.” She ordered. 

Hubert shivered and obeyed. 

The chiffon fabric pooled on the desk as she moved it out of her way. Now she could clearly see how his shorts were damp with precome, how his cock twitched as she traced her finger down his length.

“Good boy. It’s time I thanked you for your hard work.” Hooking her thumbs under the band of his shorts, she slowly peeled them off, tugging them down his thighs and legs. 

They fell forgotten to the floor as she brushed her dark teal hair back behind her ear. 

With bated breath, he watched her take him in hand, felt his mind unravel as she stroked him from base to tip. Gently pulling back his foreskin, she brushed her thumb over his exposed cockhead, watching intently as a steady stream of precome leaked over her fingers. When she swiped her tongue over his slit, Hubert’s head fell back. His moan echoed loudly against the stone walls. 

“Shh,” She warned, “Seteth might investigate if you make such delicious noises.”

His hand quickly clasped over his mouth. 

The door wasn't locked. 

She must have noticed his realization. Her breath ghosted over his cock as she chuckled and returned to stroking him slowly. 

Every time he felt he was close to coming, she gave him a squeeze around his base.

Licking her lips, she bowed her head and took him in her mouth. 

Hubert’s muffled moans filled the air as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him as she raised her head, releasing him with a soft pop. 

To his delight and shock, she smiled up at him before she swirled her tongue over his cockhead, taking care to kiss the tip before taking him into her mouth again. The heat that enveloped him was enough to drive him mad. The wet, slick drag of her lips over his soft velvet skin left him breathless and twitching.  

A small strangled noise escaped his hand when Byleth took him even further. As her head began to bob up and down on his length, he had to bite into his knuckles just to keep his voice from leaking out. 

Wanton moans resounded in his chest, and in his delirium, he watched his cock appear and disappear between her rosy lips.

Arousal continued to build and build in his loins until he was trembling, writhing under her hands that kept him from bucking up into her wonderfully hot mouth. His legs locked behind her head, and just when he was about to come -- there's a sound of a knock at the door. 

Horrified, Hubert froze, his eyes snapping open. Genuine fear settled over him. The door was not locked, he remembered. Why didn’t she lock the door?

“Professor?” Through the wood, Hubert heard Seteths voice call out for her.

Panic settled in as he looked down to see that Byleth was, for some reason, still between his legs. She had returned to stroking him again. Blue eyes looked back at him nonchalantly, then a small smile grew on her face when he bit back a moan.  Surely she wasn't seriously ready to continue? 

When the door handle started to turn, Hubert blurted out the first thing to come to his mind, “Do not come in!” The way his voice cracked pathetically made his cheeks burn. 

To his relief, the door closed immediately. Taking a shaky breath, Hubert cleared his throat. “S-she’s not here. I’m..changing.” 

What expression did Seteth wear, Hubert wondered as the other also cleared his throat to cover up the embarrassment.  “Ahem. My apologies, Hubert.” 

An unintelligible grunt of acknowledgment was all Hubert could muster as his head fell back against the desk, the tension melting from him. But just as he began to relax, Hubert felt the tip of Byleth’s finger trace down his perineum. 

His whole body jerked when she grazed over his entrance. She smirked at him when he shot her a scathing look. 

Huberts face twisted in confusion when after gathering a generous amount of precome on her fingers, Byleth slowly pressed her finger inside of him. It was all he could do not to yelp at the intrusion. While it did not hurt, it was alien and unexpected. 

Understandably, he tightened up around her, gasping as she took him back into her mouth deeper than ever before until the tip of his cock was pressed against the back of her throat. 

It was so tight, so slick, and wonderful that Hubert had nearly forgotten that Seteth was there until he spoke again. 

“Please note that the room will be needed in about 20 minutes. I would appreciate it if you’d please return everything to where it was before.”

“A-alright, I will!” Hubert fought back a moan as he lost himself in her talented mouth. At some point, she had pressed further inside him. A curled digit brushed against something that caused him to twitch and pulse in her mouth. Lights like stars flashed in the corner of his vision.

“Hubert?” Seteth said, and oh how Hubert wished that he could smack the man for continuing to prattle on. 

“Y-yes?” He hissed between his fingers, and when Byleth kneaded against that spot again with her knuckle, he knew he could no longer hold on. Clasping his hand tightly over his mouth, his back arched off the desk. The orgasm shook him to his very foundation; and his eyes rolled back as each spurt of come stained the front of his across his dress. It seemed as if it would never end. Just when it seemed to wane, Byleth massaged her finger against his prostate.  His toes curled as she relentlessly milked him dry.

In the clouded haze, Hubert faintly heard Seteth.“Take care to lock the door next time.” 

At long last, he heard the echo of Seteth’s footsteps fade down the hall. 

Weak and trembling, Hubert’s thighs fell open -- he felt boneless lying there on the desk.

In his reverie, he barely registered Byleth when she climbed onto the desk beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as he came down from the high. Gathering his spend on her fingers, she held them to his lips, and he lazily licked them clean without question. Dazed, his eyes fell half closed as he tasted himself, then closed entirely when she leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.  

Once his breathing began to slow, she hummed in approval and kissed his cheek.”Same time tomorrow?” 

Exhausted, Hubert nodded. “Yes. As long as..” He paused to laugh deliriously. “As long as we lock that blasted door.”