[ He can see what Sylvain is trying to do- he's done it so many times before, after all, and for a moment, he feels a sinking sadness in his chest.
He can demand that much because he's their king. Would they be so conceding, were he not?
Even someone like Sylvain would...
The atmosphere around them feels far too tense, despite it, and he doesn't like it. To the point where he can hear the kittens purring in their box now, sated by their toys, and Sylvain's breaths, even-
Comforting. ]
... then don't treat me as though I were your king when we're here, Sylvain. I'm king of nothing here. And you're...
[ He trails off, finally stepping forward to reach out and move his hand over Sylvain's upper arm. The rest of him moves until he can move both arms around him, lowering his head to rest against the side of Sylvain's, the scent of his body all but palpable. ]
Why is it always my desire? Why can't I give you something you want?
[ This is far too much kindness for someone who has yet to do all he can to repent. He clutches Sylvain closer, as though afraid he'll just pull away again.
[It's hard to say if they would be or not. He can't speak for the others, but... he, at least, likely would be. As often as he sets distance between them, Dimitri is still one of his only friends, and that's far more important to him than rank or status or even the fact that Dimitri is their king.
That does not change the fact, though, that Dimitri could still demand more of him than, perhaps, he may be comfortable with. What that might be, he doesn't know, but it's still a part of life.
That insistence does bring a quirk of a smile to his face. He'd made the same assertion back at the Monastery, to mixed effect. But... he's right. Here, at least, the only reason to hold on to propriety is... habit.
Even so, he very nearly steps away when Dimitri places his hand on his arm. When he wraps him close. When he rests his head against his. He doesn't pull away, but he does bring his hands up between them and places them on Dimitri's chest.
He can feel his heartbeat. His breathing. It's striking, after seeing him encased in heavy armor, shut away from the world, for so long.
He's held closer still, and he drops his head down to rest on Dimitri's shoulder, fingers curling in that shirt.]
You can't, because I'm... terrible. And more selfish than you deserve to be burdened with.
[He's playing with fire, and he knows it. Bright and hot and burning, threatening to get away from him, like when he'd first learned to cast, when little hands couldn't contain magefire.
But Dimitri asked for honesty. It's the least he can do to give it for once.]
Bluntly? I want as much of you as you're willing to give me.
[ He can feel the distance Sylvain is still trying to keep between them, and it makes that feeling in his chest grow intense, even as he becomes far too aware of Sylvain's hands against his.
(These hands that held not just me, but the others who came to you for warmth, Sylvain. Are you going to let them grow cold now?)
It's hard enough for Dimitri, who's gone so long without such closeness and touch for these years, where the scars of his trauma have seared through him to make everything feel like it can never offer him any comfort- to reach out like this. To open himself to the comfort that he ought to take.
That he's selfishly taken, and will hold, from Byleth.
And this... ]
Then I'm giving it to you.
[ He says, a little sharply, before pulling his head back to look firmly into Sylvain's eyes. Their faces are hardly far, enough for him to feel Sylvain's breaths on his face. ]
Whatever I am now, I wouldn't be without the Professor, but what I was allowed to be- as myself, beyond the madness and before, was because I had all of you. And especially—
[ His own hand moves up to Sylvain's chest, the both of them very nearly the same height, yet enough for Dimitri to still stand a little taller-
And that's when he moves, doing the only thing he can to speak in a language Sylvain will comprehend, after how he's twisted himself. Dimitri's hand rises to the back of his head, fingers threading in the strands, before he pulls him closer, and presses their mouths together.
It's not a lustful kiss- nor is it one to entice. It's simple, longing, and comforting.
As though telling Sylvain that he would give him even more than this, only because it was him. He lets it linger, feeling his face burn, before he breaks it, but doesn't move too far back. ]
Because I've always had you, Sylvain. Don't you dare try and presume that you mean any less to me.
[He's always been cold. He was born in it, raised in it, shelled himself in ice even now. What warmth he gives to others is incidental. Selfish, or so he led himself to believe. Taking, and taking twice over, with little emotional attachment.
But that was never really true when it came to those he actually held dear, was it? Dimitri and Felix and Ingrid were allowed in, before he walled himself away. Byleth and Mercedes and, later, Dorothea saw right through him, but unlike others, they didn't let him push back, push them away.
Even so... it's too much. He should push away - as if he could even do such a thing, now, with Dimitri holding him tight - should leave, should pretend he'd never opened up, never said something so stupid.
The sharpness in Dimitri's voice roots him in place, makes him pull his head back as well to look at him - really, truly look at him.
There's intensity in his gaze, and sincerity, and though he still wants to protest - that he'd done so little, that he should have been there, should have given him more, everything, that he's terrible, that he doesn't deserve what he's asking of him... - he can't. He's awful. Worthless. Less than worthless, here, where his crest doesn't matter, but even so, Dimitri sees something of value in him. He won't - can't - cast that aside.
He's never noticed before that Dimitri had grown taller than him, with how he's so often hunched in on himself under the weight of his armor and his furs and his grief. He notices now, when Dimitri draws up to his full height, when he threads fingers in his hair, when he makes him lean up into a kiss he still doesn't feel as though he deserves.
He returns it anyway, and there's an intensity in it from him in the longing in it, almost desperate. He reaches up, too, lets his hands slide over Dimitri's chest until he can drape his arms over his shoulders, around his neck, holding on, now, instead of poised to push away.
He can't even tease Dimitri for the blush on his face when he finally breaks it, because he can feel that there's one on his own cheeks as well.]
Goddess... I... Dimitri, I don't know what to say...
[Maybe that's for the best. His first impulse, even after all that, was to apologize for making Dimitri feel as though he had to do that, say that. Or for even coming between him and Byleth this much - as though he knew what would and would not be contentious. His second impulse was to insist that they stop, that Dimitri see what Byleth was comfortable with him doing, here, before they went further... and then to backpedal again, because that would be presuming they would.
But either of those would be throwing everything Dimitri had just told him, everything he'd just done, back in his face. He can't do that. He won't do that.
What he can do, what he's always done, that comes as easy as breathing, is trust him.]
[ To be absolutely fair, even he doesn't know what to say after making a move like that— only that he wanted to and he doesn't regret doing so.
Because it's Sylvain, and he'd never look away from him.
There's nothing lewd or shameful about what he did— it's not something he'd do easily, knowing how he feels for Byleth. Of course, it's not something he'd openly do with just about anyone either if he didn't have to. Especially back home, where such things are hardly going to get in their way—
When he's sure he'll be able to let Byleth know that he wants to spend his life with him until the very end.
Some part of him feels like regardless of his desire, his affection for Sylvain, for those that have supported and stood by him, will never diminish, and he responds, with his fingers moving under Sylvain's chin to tip his face up and look into his warm coloured eyes— ]
... just that you'll not hold back with whatever you feel you need from me. And... that you will be patient, as I try to understand what is within my- and the Professor's comfort.
[ A sigh rushes past, as he smiles at him. ]
Please don't ever put yourself down again, Sylvain. You've always meant more to me than you realize.
[ He uses the singular— because right now, he wants to reaffirm that between the both of them alone. ]
[There is a twinge of something like regret in him, for practically forcing Dimitri to do this, but... no. Dimitri himself was a force, especially now. There was no way he could make him do anything.
If he really was forcing him to do this, it would have only pushed him away.
Possibly for good, this time.
So that thought allows him to push away that guilt and just... listen to Dimitri. To look up into his eye when he tilts his head up, to simply... relax and let all the tenseness that wound up in him through the whole exchange melt away.]
...I'll try. It still feels strange, asking anything of you, but I know I can be patient.
[To a fault, sometimes, if this entire exchange was anything to go by.]
And I can't say I won't, but I will take solace in your words.
[It's... better than nothing, at least, he has to hope.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He can demand that much because he's their king. Would they be so conceding, were he not?
Even someone like Sylvain would...
The atmosphere around them feels far too tense, despite it, and he doesn't like it. To the point where he can hear the kittens purring in their box now, sated by their toys, and Sylvain's breaths, even-
Comforting. ]
... then don't treat me as though I were your king when we're here, Sylvain. I'm king of nothing here. And you're...
[ He trails off, finally stepping forward to reach out and move his hand over Sylvain's upper arm. The rest of him moves until he can move both arms around him, lowering his head to rest against the side of Sylvain's, the scent of his body all but palpable. ]
Why is it always my desire? Why can't I give you something you want?
[ This is far too much kindness for someone who has yet to do all he can to repent. He clutches Sylvain closer, as though afraid he'll just pull away again.
Perhaps, reminiscent of when they were younger. ]
What do you want to ask of me, Sylvain?
no subject
That does not change the fact, though, that Dimitri could still demand more of him than, perhaps, he may be comfortable with. What that might be, he doesn't know, but it's still a part of life.
That insistence does bring a quirk of a smile to his face. He'd made the same assertion back at the Monastery, to mixed effect. But... he's right. Here, at least, the only reason to hold on to propriety is... habit.
Even so, he very nearly steps away when Dimitri places his hand on his arm. When he wraps him close. When he rests his head against his. He doesn't pull away, but he does bring his hands up between them and places them on Dimitri's chest.
He can feel his heartbeat. His breathing. It's striking, after seeing him encased in heavy armor, shut away from the world, for so long.
He's held closer still, and he drops his head down to rest on Dimitri's shoulder, fingers curling in that shirt.]
You can't, because I'm... terrible. And more selfish than you deserve to be burdened with.
[He's playing with fire, and he knows it. Bright and hot and burning, threatening to get away from him, like when he'd first learned to cast, when little hands couldn't contain magefire.
But Dimitri asked for honesty. It's the least he can do to give it for once.]
Bluntly? I want as much of you as you're willing to give me.
no subject
(These hands that held not just me, but the others who came to you for warmth, Sylvain. Are you going to let them grow cold now?)
It's hard enough for Dimitri, who's gone so long without such closeness and touch for these years, where the scars of his trauma have seared through him to make everything feel like it can never offer him any comfort- to reach out like this. To open himself to the comfort that he ought to take.
That he's selfishly taken, and will hold, from Byleth.
And this... ]
Then I'm giving it to you.
[ He says, a little sharply, before pulling his head back to look firmly into Sylvain's eyes. Their faces are hardly far, enough for him to feel Sylvain's breaths on his face. ]
Whatever I am now, I wouldn't be without the Professor, but what I was allowed to be- as myself, beyond the madness and before, was because I had all of you. And especially—
[ His own hand moves up to Sylvain's chest, the both of them very nearly the same height, yet enough for Dimitri to still stand a little taller-
And that's when he moves, doing the only thing he can to speak in a language Sylvain will comprehend, after how he's twisted himself. Dimitri's hand rises to the back of his head, fingers threading in the strands, before he pulls him closer, and presses their mouths together.
It's not a lustful kiss- nor is it one to entice. It's simple, longing, and comforting.
As though telling Sylvain that he would give him even more than this, only because it was him. He lets it linger, feeling his face burn, before he breaks it, but doesn't move too far back. ]
Because I've always had you, Sylvain. Don't you dare try and presume that you mean any less to me.
no subject
But that was never really true when it came to those he actually held dear, was it? Dimitri and Felix and Ingrid were allowed in, before he walled himself away. Byleth and Mercedes and, later, Dorothea saw right through him, but unlike others, they didn't let him push back, push them away.
Even so... it's too much. He should push away - as if he could even do such a thing, now, with Dimitri holding him tight - should leave, should pretend he'd never opened up, never said something so stupid.
The sharpness in Dimitri's voice roots him in place, makes him pull his head back as well to look at him - really, truly look at him.
There's intensity in his gaze, and sincerity, and though he still wants to protest - that he'd done so little, that he should have been there, should have given him more, everything, that he's terrible, that he doesn't deserve what he's asking of him... - he can't. He's awful. Worthless. Less than worthless, here, where his crest doesn't matter, but even so, Dimitri sees something of value in him. He won't - can't - cast that aside.
He's never noticed before that Dimitri had grown taller than him, with how he's so often hunched in on himself under the weight of his armor and his furs and his grief. He notices now, when Dimitri draws up to his full height, when he threads fingers in his hair, when he makes him lean up into a kiss he still doesn't feel as though he deserves.
He returns it anyway, and there's an intensity in it from him in the longing in it, almost desperate. He reaches up, too, lets his hands slide over Dimitri's chest until he can drape his arms over his shoulders, around his neck, holding on, now, instead of poised to push away.
He can't even tease Dimitri for the blush on his face when he finally breaks it, because he can feel that there's one on his own cheeks as well.]
Goddess... I... Dimitri, I don't know what to say...
[Maybe that's for the best. His first impulse, even after all that, was to apologize for making Dimitri feel as though he had to do that, say that. Or for even coming between him and Byleth this much - as though he knew what would and would not be contentious. His second impulse was to insist that they stop, that Dimitri see what Byleth was comfortable with him doing, here, before they went further... and then to backpedal again, because that would be presuming they would.
But either of those would be throwing everything Dimitri had just told him, everything he'd just done, back in his face. He can't do that. He won't do that.
What he can do, what he's always done, that comes as easy as breathing, is trust him.]
no subject
Because it's Sylvain, and he'd never look away from him.
There's nothing lewd or shameful about what he did— it's not something he'd do easily, knowing how he feels for Byleth. Of course, it's not something he'd openly do with just about anyone either if he didn't have to. Especially back home, where such things are hardly going to get in their way—
When he's sure he'll be able to let Byleth know that he wants to spend his life with him until the very end.
Some part of him feels like regardless of his desire, his affection for Sylvain, for those that have supported and stood by him, will never diminish, and he responds, with his fingers moving under Sylvain's chin to tip his face up and look into his warm coloured eyes— ]
... just that you'll not hold back with whatever you feel you need from me. And... that you will be patient, as I try to understand what is within my- and the Professor's comfort.
[ A sigh rushes past, as he smiles at him. ]
Please don't ever put yourself down again, Sylvain. You've always meant more to me than you realize.
[ He uses the singular— because right now, he wants to reaffirm that between the both of them alone. ]
no subject
If he really was forcing him to do this, it would have only pushed him away.
Possibly for good, this time.
So that thought allows him to push away that guilt and just... listen to Dimitri. To look up into his eye when he tilts his head up, to simply... relax and let all the tenseness that wound up in him through the whole exchange melt away.]
...I'll try. It still feels strange, asking anything of you, but I know I can be patient.
[To a fault, sometimes, if this entire exchange was anything to go by.]
And I can't say I won't, but I will take solace in your words.
[It's... better than nothing, at least, he has to hope.]