Archive of Our Own ^beta

Byleth tilted his head to the side in front of the mirror, studying the dark, clear bite mark outlined on the side of his neck. A few lighter reddish marks surrounded it, trailing a little distance up and further down towards his collarbone—places where Dimitri had begun to sink in his teeth but released his hold before really committing to it—but this one was starkly defined in deep, rich purple against the paler backdrop of his skin. Byleth ran a finger over it and focused on the sensation. It ached slightly and even stung a bit where Dimitri’s slightly overlong canines had just barely broken the skin, but the pain was more interesting than unpleasant. He only noticed it at all when he touched it, and it wasn’t as if he had to touch it. Unless he wanted to.

Byleth didn’t hear him get out of bed, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dimitri’s reflection approaching behind him. He was watching with something between fascination and concern as Byleth gently pressed down on the bite mark, released it, and pressed down on it again.

“Is that… mine?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Byleth met his eye with a slightly raised eyebrow. He almost said something sarcastic about some other many-toothed monster sneaking in and ravaging him in the approximately thirty seconds they’d been apart the night before, but the face Dimitri was making meant he would need to be gentler than that in his teasing.

“No one else has put their mouth on me lately,” he said evenly. “What do you think?”

Dimitri blushed, his pupil growing wide as it fixed itself on the mark. Abruptly, he shook his head and found Byleth’s eye again, shamefaced.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize I was… I didn’t mean to cause such… such a…” His eye dragged itself back toward it. “…Does it hurt? Do you need me to heal…?”

“No,” said Byleth. Apparently he needed to be direct today. “I like it.”

Dimitri’s breath hitched and his face reddened by several shades. Byleth smiled.

“It’s okay. You can admit you like it too.”

“I—” He looked startled for a moment, but then shook his head and bit his lip, fighting back a smile of his own. His eye kept flicking down to the mark and back up as if he was trying to pretend he didn’t want to stare. “…If you truly aren’t hurt, then… then I suppose I can, ah, admit to feeling some kind of, of pride in having… having marked you this way. If only because you… like it.”

“I’ll feel it and think of you,” said Byleth quietly.

Dimitri shivered, rested a hand on Byleth’s hip, and leaned in close to his ear. “I hope you do.”

Byleth rested his hand over Dimitri’s and twisted their fingers together, then leaned his head back, sighed, and narrowed his eyes at his own reflection. “But what do you think? Should I wear a high collar today to keep it hidden, or should I leave it alone?”

“What—” Dimitri choked. His fingers tensed under Byleth’s. “Leave—in public?”

“Sure.”

“But you’re the Archbishop,” said Dimitri in a tone of disbelief. “You’re not really considering appearing to the faithful with a—with my teeth etched on your skin.”

Byleth shrugged. “I’m publicly engaged to you. If people honestly think we locked the door to my quarters last night to make chaste but soulful eye contact, I fail to see how that’s our fault.”

“I—that—yes, fair point,” he conceded. “But my reputation is… still a work in progress for many. What does it suggest about the so-called Savior King if his beloved turns up bitten and bruised whenever they spend the night together?”

“It’s nothing against him if his beloved likes it,” Byleth countered, somewhere between reassuring and teasing, and squeezed his hand. “Would it help if I gave you one to match?”

Dimitri’s face, which had almost faded back down to a normal shade of pink, flared newly red, and his hand tightened suddenly on Byleth’s hip.

“Sorry,” said Byleth, not feeling particularly sorry. “I see your point. I’ll cover it if you really want me to.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?” Byleth raised an eyebrow at Dimitri, who was staring at the mark again.

“…Would you really do that?”

“Of course. If you’d rather keep it between us, then I’ll wear my highest collars until it fades. No one will know it’s there at all.”

“N-no—I meant—”

Byleth almost laughed. “Oh. I gave you an idea.”

“…You are very good at giving me ideas.”