nealuchi | your truth is still the same

Title: your truth is still the same
Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses
Character(s): Byleth, Seteth
Pairing(s): Seteth/Byleth
Genre: Fluff/Smut
Word Count: 530
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers
Summary: Seteth’s always thinking about the possible dangers to her, even when that means denying something he wants too.

That’s why Byleth springs it on him when he can’t think about anything else but her.
Notes:

When Byleth first met her now-husband, she knew him as Seteth, and she continues to call him that.

That he’s trusted her with his identity as Saint Cichol means the world to her, but it doesn’t change who he is. Simply because he’s much older than she originally thought and used to go by a different name doesn’t make him a different person; he’s still the man she fell in love with.

She thinks of asking him if he’d prefer her to call him that in private, but knowing him, he’d probably say that it was a bad habit to fall into. If word ever got out about his identity, they’d risk a church schism that neither of them want to deal with, if not something worse. Seteth’s always thinking about the possible dangers to her safety, even when that means denying something he wants too.

That’s why she springs it on him when he can’t think about anything else but her.

Moonlight slips through the window and falls on Seteth’s face and chest. The pattern of light shifts every time he pushes deeper inside of her. He’s beautiful, and so very gentle.

The name comes out as a sigh between their slow kisses: “Cichol.” She doesn’t even realize she’s said anything strange until he freezes.

“…Did you call me…?”

“Cichol,” she repeats, louder this time. His breathing quickens. “I need you, Cichol.”

When he moves again, the rhythm is faster, his hands tighter on her hips. “Again,” he says.

It comes out as a moan this time as the new pace sends renewed heat flooding through her. “Cichol-”

“Again.” His voice is ragged, his eyes blown wide.

“Cichol, please-” He rocks harder into her, and every thrust is punctuated by a gasp of Cichol, Cichol, Cichol. Her voice wears raw and her thighs ache and even if it didn’t feel so unbelievably good, it would be worth it just to be able to undo her husband so completely.

She’s not usually loud when she comes. Tonight is an exception. Seteth shudders - at the sound of her crying out his name, at the feeling of her squeezing around him, both - and follows her into bliss.

For a minute, all they do is lie there. Seteth’s body is warm against hers, and even though she knows in a moment he’ll insist on getting them both cleaned up, she wants to bask in his embrace a moment longer.

When he pulls back, the first thing he says isn’t ‘you’re a mess’ but, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He’s staring at the lingering bruise marks on her hips.

“I loved it.” She’s absolutely not letting him apologize for some of the best sex they’ve had. “I’m going to have to call you Cichol much more often, if that’s your reaction.”

“…if it’s in private, I’ll accept it,” he says. “Despite the risk… I couldn’t tell you no after you enjoyed yourself so much.”

“I think you enjoyed it even more than I did,” she says, sitting up and giving him a lopsided smile.

Seteth looks away. The tips of his ears are pink. “I’m as surprised as you are.”