Chapter Text
Sylvain kept his grandiose smile spread wide as he latched both of his hands behind his head, adopting a carefree lean to his stance as he shrugged helplessly at the distraught young woman in front of him.
“That’s how it is, I’m afraid,” he told her, ensuring his tone was as nonchalant as he could to make the conversation flow naturally.
The lady, was her name Clara? Claire? It at least started with a C, he was pretty sure of that. Anyway, she stared at him incredulously on the bridge that connected Garreg Mach to the village nestled away at its base.
He figured it was the best place to deliver this kind of news, so he could scurry back up to the monastery quick as you please once the bandage had been ripped away.
“So our time together meant nothing to you?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to keep it together.
The effortless, easy grin remained stuck on his face as if it had been painted on. “That’s pretty much it,” he confirmed with a nod. “Though I will say, Clara, you made some excellent muffins. Mind if I ask for the recipe real fast?”
“My name is Kendra, you jerk!”
Damn, but he’d been close! Clara, Kendra, what was the difference, really?
“So does that mean no more muffins?” he asked, as jovial as ever, and could only laugh even louder when she tried to punch him. He ducked under it without breaking a swear, and Kendra balled her fists at her sides in a huff before running off back towards the village, that trademark sound of womanly tears reaching his ears as she fled.
Welp, couldn’t be helped. Three dates was always the maximum he ever allotted someone, and while Kendra had only gotten the pleasure of two before he decided to cut the cord, you could hardly blame him for that.
If she hasn’t made the mistake of mentioning the idea of him coming to meet her parents during date number two, she definitely would’ve gotten that third one! Those muffins were definitely worth the trouble.
Sighing at his lost baked goods, Sylvain turned on his heel and made to head back up to the monastery, but paused as he made the full rotation to find someone else on the bridge, watching him.
“Professor!” Sylvain greeted the blue haired warrior with a smirk, flexing his arms out to the sides with a veneer of “Women, am I right?”
Byleth, for his part, stood as stalwart as ever, one hand locked onto his hip, his face a mask devoid of any sign of emotion whatsoever. “You are a cruel man, Sylvain.”
“Me? Nah, I did her a favor. Breaking it off now meant there wouldn’t be any time for her to develop unwanted feelings, and believe me, that would only end in tragedy for everyone.” Sylvain brushed a hand through his hair, only smirking wider at seeing the professor’s face remain unmoved. “Come on, Teach, don’t act like you’ve never broken a woman’s heart before. That stony glare, that brooding facade… women love that in a guy. If I could pull it off the way you do, I’d be fighting them off every time I stepped outside.”
Byleth rolled his eyes at the comment. “What you do in your spare time is your own business, Sylvain. Just don’t let it interfere in your studies.” With that, the professor walked past him, headed towards the village, prompting some brief confusion in the heir to House Gautier.
“Hang on, that’s it?” Sylvain asked, taken aback. “No lecture about being a better person, or looking inward about how I treat others is a reflection of how I feel about myself?”
“I’m here to teach you to be a warrior and a leader, not an ethical philanderer. So long as your antics don’t cause you to miss any of my classes, stick your cock wherever you please.”
Sylvain was briefly rendered mute by the bluntness of the statement, but recovered quickly enough. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Professor,” he said with a satirical salute and bow, before he jogged back up to the monastery with that signature Gautier swagger in his steps.
Byleth watched him go, wondering if Sylvain had been listening to what he’d just said closely. Only time would tell.
Time, as it turned out, wound up amounting to four days.
Sylvain had been out all night, with not just one but two beautifully perky young ladies, having a midnight picnic by the pond that quickly turned into a game of skinny dipping. By the time he’d finally dragged himself back to his dorm, the sun was already starting to peek up over the horizon of Garreg Mach.
No big deal. The only thing on the schedule was one of Byleth’s seminars on lance formations, and Sylvain had studied enough of those to recite every major battalion of the last two centuries in his sleep.
He fell down into his bed, utterly exhausted, and remembered to make a mental note to tell both of those ladies that he thought the other one was prettier the next time he saw each of them alone.
Then Sylvain was out, snoring away without a care in the world.
It was early afternoon when he woke up, haggard and unkempt in the uniform he’d worn on his date, so after taking a quick moment to change into a fresh set of clothes, he took off for the dining hall, his stomach rumbling.
On grabbing a serving of the hunter’s bounty that the kitchen staff had prepared, Sylvain grinned as he slid in next to Felix at the regular Blue Lion’s table. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Fraldarius.”
The swordsman sniffed at his words, cutting through a piece of venison without looking over at his friend. “You missed the seminar this morning.”
“Oh, was that today? Guess I lost track of time last night.”
Felix harrumphed at his insolence. “If I were you, Sylvain, I’d make myself scarce. You should’ve seen the professor when he came in and realized you weren’t there.”
Sylvain leaned in, now very interested. “Oooh, did I finally make Teach show an emotion other than vague indifference?”
“Don’t celebrate just yet, skirt chaser. All he did was flare his nostrils for a moment before getting on with the lecture. It was the same thing he does every time he’s about to kill someone on the battlefield.”
It was Sylvain’s turn to look incredulous now. “Seriously? You pay attention to his nostrils when we’re fighting as a class?”
Felix finally shot an irate look at his friend. “Every capable warrior knows to pay attention to allies and enemies alike on the field of battle! If you ever took your nose out of women and stuck it in a book sometime, you’d might know that.”
“Nah, I’ll keep my nose very firmly buried in women, alongside other things of mine, thank you very much. A night with two lovely ladies trumps a boring mundane lecture any day.”
“Oh, does it, Sylvain?”
That wasn’t Felix’s voice. Sylvain chuckled as he span around in his seat to find the professor standing right behind him, Felix taking the opportunity to smirk at his friend getting called out by their teacher.
“Teach, come sit down,” Sylvain offered, patting at the bench next to him. “You should try the venison they’re serving today; it’s actually edible, unlike what usually comes out-“
Byleth was having none of his nonsense. “I told you what you did in your spare time was your own personal business up until it began to interfere with your studies.”
“You did say that, yes. I don’t know what to tell you, Teach, other than sorry for having fun and losing track of my time. Tell you what; I’ll take you out to the village tonight and buy you dinner, and we’ll call it even. Sound good?”
At saying those words, Sylvain got to see what Felix had been talking about. Byleth’s nostrils flared, and yeah, it was in fact eerily similar to the face he made whenever he was about to deliver a killing blow.
“Follow me. Now,” Byleth ordered, his voice changing just slightly into a more aggressive tone.
Felix snickered as Sylvain sheepishly stood to his feet, finally using his brain and realizing that if he tried another witty remark, it would surely only make whatever came next much worse. “Try not to die,” Felix whispered as the professor marched out of the dining hall, Sylvain traipsing after him after taking a moment to throw a vulgar gesture at his friend.
“Let me guess: detention?” Sylvain asked once they were out of the dining hall and saw that the professor was taking them towards the main building of the cathedral. It had hardly been his first time confined there, thanks to his mouth always being sharper than his study habits.
“An apt choice of word,” Byleth snapped at him, prompting Sylvain to puzzle over just what exactly that was supposed to mean. His befuddlement only grew when the professor made a sharp left turn at the reception hall, instead of heading straight through to the cathedral, and made his way towards the dorms instead.
Detention had never been held there, and Sylvain couldn’t help but feel a small trickle of worry start to form on his brow when the professor stopped at a door that was familiar to both of them.
“But this is your room, Teach,” he tried to protest, now completely and utterly baffled.
“An astute observation,” Byleth replied, a sour note to his tenor. He opened the door with a single yank, and pointed inside. “Get in.”
“Umm, I don’t think this is-“
“I could always go to the archbishop, if I had to.”
Sylvain felt all the color drain out of his face at that, and quickly obeyed, darting inside the professor’s room. It didn’t matter how scary Byleth was being right now; Rhea was absolutely terrifying, even when she wasn’t trying to be, and Sylvain had absolutely no intention of ever getting on her bad side.
The professor’s room was larger than the students’ quarters, a wide bed pushed away into a corner and a large desk nestled against the rightmost wall. After shutting the door to the room and locking it behind them, Byleth moved over to the desk and pulled out the chair to the center of the room, those vibrant blue eyes remaining vapid of anything approaching proper emotion.
It really was uncanny, the way the professor seemed totally empty on the inside at moments where that really shouldn’t have been the case.
“So… what now?” Sylvain asked, doing his best to not let any of his very real nerves creep into his voice to give away how anxious he truly was.
“Strip.”
His mind backfired at that. Just one word, and yet that was all it took to render the cocky heir to the Gautier household fully astonished. “Pardon me?”
“Strip,” Byleth repeated again, his hands locked on the back of the chair so tightly it was a miracle the wood didn’t break underneath the pressure.
“Teach, I’m confident this isn’t following any sort of protocol-“
“That or I go to Rhea. Your choice, Sylvain.”
Sylvain froze, considering his options. Face the terrifying archbishop of the Church of Seiros, who would surely disapprove of both him missing class and his constant heartbreaking, or do as the professor told him.
In the end, who was he more scared of?”
That wasn’t even a question.
Moving slowly, Sylvain carefully reached up to undo the buttons on the coat that was a part of the school uniform, trying to read something, anything, behind Byleth’s eyes as he followed instructions.
The professor didn’t so much as blink, and Sylvain swallowed down the last of his nerves as he pulled the coat off his shoulders. “You can toss it all to the floor,” Byleth said, finally releasing his grip on the back of the chair as the redhead began to undo the strings on his shirt as well.
Sylvain had no idea what was going on, but he kept following the professor’s orders, peeling the shirt off his torso and letting it too fall to the floor. His abs, toned to a rock-hard muscle as a result of years of martial training, and his chest, big and meaty, had impressed dozens of women over the years, and Sylvain himself was quite haughty when it came to his physique.
But now, with the professor watching him undress like this… he felt exposed. Vulnerable.
With deft hands, Sylvain undid the ties of his boots and kicked them away, his pants coming off a moment later, leaving him in just a thin black layer of underclothes that trailed from right beneath his waist down to his ankles.
He paused, hoping that was the end of it, but Byleth’s voice cut right through his wishes. “All of it, Sylvain.”
It wasn’t exactly the first time Sylvain had been naked in front of another man before; he’d grown up with squires, stable boys, boy cousins. You saw things, and it was just a fact of life. But the idea of being naked in front of his teacher, in his teacher’s room, with the door locked?
Not exactly the same thing.
But his fear of Rhea overcame any misgivings he might have had about that. With a sigh, he pulled his final layer down his legs and off, his manhood hanging down between his legs, a small crest of red hair circling his groin.
He wasn’t exactly the most well endowed guy in the world, but it was serviceable; just under eight inches in length, and while his cock was rather slender, he’d never heard any complaints about that when it was being put to use.
“Now sit,” Byleth instructed, tapping the back of the chair with his hand. Sylvain didn’t bother protesting, settling down into the wooden piece of furniture, the bark cold against his bare skin. “Let your arms hang down to the sides.”
He complied again, and once his arms were down, Byleth grabbed his right one tightly, pinning it to the leg on that side. “Now hold still,” the professor grunted, and Sylvain felt a wave of nerves slam into his stomach as he felt the sudden burn of rope being looped around his arm, binding it right to the chair’s leg as Byleth knotted it several times.
Once he was sure the tie was good and would hold, he grabbed Sylvain’s second arm and did the same thing on the left side, tying the limb down to the chair’s other leg with enough force where Sylvain couldn’t work any leverage into his limbs.
It was quite the setup; with both his arms tied tight in the back, Sylvain couldn’t find the center of gravity he needed to stand up. His legs were free, but they couldn’t push up to a rise due to the angle his body had been forced into.
Once the knot work was done, Byleth stepped off to the side and headed for the desk, opening up a drawer and pulling out a vial of a clear, viscuous liquid Sylvain didn’t recognize. Pulling off his gloves, the professor undid the lid and dipped his fingers into the jar, and as he did so, a pungent, unfamiliar odor slammed into Sylvain’s senses.
“Goddess, what is that?” he asked, suddenly feeling light headed as the smell started to cloud over his head. It was like he’d been dunked inside a tub of warm, soapy water, and wasn’t allowed to resurface so long as the smell continued to creep into his nose.
“A mixture of Southern fruits, lavender, chamomile, and a few secret ingredients you don’t need to worry about,” Byleth said, ensuring his hands were coated in the substance before he returned it to its place in the drawer.
That accomplished, he walked behind where Sylvain was tied to the chair, out of sight, and Sylvain found himself in a position he had never imagined in his wildest dreams.
“Teach, you made your point,” Sylvain said, just a tad quicker than he’d intended. He couldn’t see Byleth behind him, and that fierce odor was starting to make him feel fuzzy. “I won’t miss a lecture again, you have my word.”
“I’ve seen what your word means, Sylvain. Frankly, it’s not worth squat. So I’m going to get your attention another way.”
Before he could ask what Byleth meant by that, the professor leaned down and stroked his hands up Sylvain’s neck, that oily liquid lubricating his otherwise strong and nimble fingers.
Sylvain’s words died on his tongue, and the only sound that came out of his lips was a low pitched grunt of bliss as Byleth worked his hands down his neck and to his shoulders, the professor beginning to massage and crack at the muscle brimming underneath the skin.
“Fuck, Teach,” Sylvain slurred out, his mind starting to slow into a puddle as the smell of the lube wafted deeper into his head. Byleth didn’t say a word, letting his hands do the talking as he creased over the tied boy’s upper arms and shoulders, the muscles first tightening and relaxing at the slow, methodical, sensual pace.
But that was only the warm up. Leaning down over Sylvain, who now had his head laying back over the chair, eyes rolled back as a result of both the aroma and the touch, Byleth stroked his hands down his chest, those meaty pecs bouncing under his fingers.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t neglected your physical conditioning,” Byleth noted, taking a nipple between his middle and ring finger and tweaking it clockwise. The effort earned him an appreciate whine from Sylvain, who was now looking up at him helplessly. “Oh, your nipples are sensitive? Good to know.”
Sensitive and erect, as it turned out. Both of Sylvain’s nipples were standing out on his chest, and Byleth wasted no time in pinching at them both, hard. Sylvain’s hips spasmed at the sudden stimulation, and his cock began to swell up between his legs, rising higher and higher as Byleth poked and prodded and tormented his chest.
Sylvain’s eyes bugged out wide at feeling his erection pulse out to that level, and raised his head to see his cock stiffen even harder as Byleth ran his hands down further, that warm, pungent lubricant ensuring the touch slipped right on over his abs. Byleth remained as implacable as ever, one hand continuing to pinch at a nipple while his other slid down to outline the full scale of the boy’s groin.
“Teach-“ Sylvain sputtered, Byleth shutting him up by grabbing one of his pecs and squeezing it hard enough to bruise. The redhead whimpered and throbbed in his chair, and his cock finished shooting all the way, standing tall against his abs as pre cum began to leak perilously from the tip.
Good. That was exactly what Byleth needed to hammer his point home.
While Sylvain remained listless for a moment, the professor quickly shifted, slinking out from behind his bound student to stand directly in front of him, bending over to make full eye contact.
Eye contact that was returned when Byleth grabbed his cock with two fingers at the tip, bringing Sylvain right back into reality with a sharp needy whine.
Probably the first time Sylvain had ever whined for anybody.
“Teach?” Sylvain asked, his eyes cloudy from both the pleasure and the effect the lube itself was having on him.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, this has only just begun.”
Sylvain’s gaze crossed into itself as Byleth began running his thumb up over the crest of the boy’s cock, tracing a thin line up and down the head while his other fingers kept it standing up hard and thick. As he did so, Sylvain’s abs began to contract and twist with his breathes, and the student tried to thrust his hips upwards into the touch for more friction.
Not happening.
Byleth’s touch vanished as quickly as it had started, and Sylvain actually gasped as the pleasure took a pause.
“If I want you to move, I’ll tell you to move. Otherwise, hold still,” Byleth rebuked him.
Sylvain stared at him, cheeks flushed, body red with pleasure. Then he nodded.
The touch returned, and this time, Byleth used both hands, working his palms against the full length of Sylvain’s dick, getting rewarded for his efforts with another flood of pre cum that began trickling out onto the floor.
“Fuck,” the redhead moaned, his head lolling backwards as Byleth worked him over. His balls were swollen, clearly full to bursting, and the professor showed no mercy, digging a finger into the tip and opening it wide as he used his other hand to pin the boy’s waist down against the chair.
Sylvain’s legs shook from the pleasure, his mouth opening against his will as Byleth finally gave him a proper full handed stroke from base to head. The professor pumped him to a steady, militant rhythm, almost like a heartbeat, and every time he reached the head of the cock, his other hand pinched one of the boy’s nipples, every cry of pleasure only provoking another volley of pre cum.
By now the effect of the lube was undeniable; Sylvain was practically feral at his point, drooling onto his chest from his gaped open mouth, only able to helplessly nod his head every time Byleth throbbed his cock harder and harder into his hand. Byleth remained as passive as ever in the face, keeping a close eye on the boy’s facial expressions and body reactions, measuring when he’d need to go into the next stage.
At this rate, it wouldn’t take long. Sylvain’s mind was mush, completely emptied out courtesy of the herbs and the force being exerted on his helpless, naked body. Byleth took note of the stream of pre cum smearing itself onto his hand, and as soon as he felt another rush of force work its way down into the base of the student’s dick, he pulled his hand away.
The effect was immediate; Sylvain writhed, panting and squealing, as the orgasm that had been building was forced to stop in its tracks on its way to the tip of his cock. But it held back, and with another needy whine, he finally lifted his head to stare at Byleth with regret in his eyes.
“If you’re going to act like a stud horse, I’m going to treat you like a stud horse,” Byleth said, using one hand to pull Sylvain’s cock towards the floor before releasing it with a messy slap, and the erection came flying back to collide with the redhead’s abs.
Sylvain pulsed in his entire body, his arms straining helplessly against the ties in a vain effort to reach his cock and bring himself to bliss, to free himself from this predicament.
“And the thing about studs, like all horses,” Byleth continued, giving out another pull of the cock, and another resounding slap as it slammed back into his abs, “is that they need to broken.”
Pull, slap, whine.
“So, if you’re gonna act like some wild mannered stallion-“
Pull, slap, whine.
“-I’m going to break you the same way I’d break one of them.”
Pull, slap, whine.
“And once you’re finally broken-“
Pull, slap, whine.
“-I’ll let you cum.”
“Teach!” Sylvain pleaded, his entire body going into overdrive as Byleth grabbed his cock yet again, the fingers rubbing at the shaft in a triangular shape that left the poor boy unable to form coherent words.
Byleth didn’t even blink. “It’s the only way you’ll learn, Sylvain. Next time, you won’t miss one of my lectures, huh?”
Before he could respond affirmatively, Byleth was right back at it again, pumping and slapping and digging into the skin even deeper than he had before. Sylvain’s mind broke in half as he went limp, only able to lay there and take it until the professor finally decided to show mercy.
He tried to fight it, tried to resist that building urge to orgasm. Every time it got too close, Byleth would pull back, and Sylvain would catch himself wanting to beg the professor to keep going, to let him finish.
His whole body was dripping with sweat, the musk of sexual torment filling the air in league with the lube, and there was another brutal denial shortly thereafter, Sylvain trying desperately to hold on to his dignity.
He was the womanizer, the cocky heartbreaker who left women as fast as he met them.
He should have been able to take this.
But he couldn’t. The cold, precise, commanding demeanor of the professor… Sylvain liked it. He liked being bound, being controlled, being denied over and over again. No one else had ever treated him like this, had left him helpless and messy and needy over and over again.
Another close call, another denial.
His mind fractured, he couldn’t take it.
A pull. A slap. A whine.
When he finally crossed the threshold, he couldn’t say. Or even try to guess.
One minute he was writhing, pleading, begging… the next he was demure, the quiet blissful paradise of subspace upon him. Not a thought in his mind, not a single worry left.
And the professor was right there when it happened.
“Good boy,” Byleth whispered in his ear, the sweetest sound Sylvain had ever heard. The touch on his cock had changed; from a brutal, tormenting tease to a slow, passionate, caring pump.
He’d leaked so much, it was a miracle he was atill able to produce pre cum at all. Sylvain was only barely aware of anything other than that sexual satisfaction dulling his brain, Byleth’s words coming through the haze to penetrate his head all the way to the grain.
“You’re not going to miss any more of my lectures, are you?”
Sylvain shook his head.
“In fact, you’re gonna be right there in the front row, the fastidious and obedient student, aren’t you?”
Sylvain nodded.
“And if you can live up to that over the next week, I’ll put you back here in my chair, just like this, and let you have a reward for learning your lessons so well. Would you like that?”
Sylvain nodded.
“Good boy. Now, cum for me.”
It came out of nowhere, like a magic trick. The moment permission was granted, Sylvain popped like a wine cork. His cock exploded in a burst of cum, pearl-colored fluids launching up all over his chest and abs, painting himself in undeniable proof of the total buggery Byleth had subjected him to.
But the haze remained as the orgasm ceased. Soft, strong hands untied his hands from the chair, gently helped him stand to his feet, and then laid him down on the nearby bed, exhaustion pulling at him the moment his back hit the mattress.
Byleth watched, satisfied, as Sylvain drifted off the sleep, his naked, cum-covered body proof of a job well done.
He got to work cleaning the floor without any hassle, letting his thoroughly educated student recover from their lesson together.
Nothing like a good mind erasing orgasm to get a boy under your thumb the way you wanted him. And as Sylvain slept, Byleth couldn’t help but wonder.
Just who would need his corrections next?