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What is brought by the wind will be taken by the wind again, Claude had told him, right as always.
Dimitri knows it all too well. Claude has the presence of a spring breeze capable of warming hearts. But just like a breeze, he comes and goes as he pleases. He’s chosen to accompany him this battle even when Dimitri argued initially, saying it was just a minor skirmish Dimitri could handle alone. Claude had no need to bring his entire Almyran regalia along.
Claude had simply put a gloved finger to Dimitri’s mouth. “We haven’t been able to fight alongside each other since you came for me at Derdriu. It’s the perfect time to demonstrate my assets,” he finished with a wink.
Goddess, did he have assets. Dimitri’s helpless crush on him from their academy days had yet to fade.
Claude’s graceful as ever when he dismounts from his wyvern with a flip and shoots an arrow directly into a soldier. Or even when he switches to an axe and skillfully clobbers the one behind him.
Dimitri isn’t the type to become distracted in battle. Really. But he can’t help but notice it’s the first time he’s seen Claude in the Barbarossa outfit so close. It suits him so well, it’s infuriating. Gold had always been a fitting color for Claude, and this class design just capitalizes on it. The black weaved into the patterns makes for an even nicer contrast. Not to mention…
Well, Dimitri has an eye. And when it’s not making sure no enemies are in his immediate vicinity, it can’t help but return to the dip in Claude’s chest. It’s not even that deep, and the red quiver belt covers it some, but that only makes him want to see more of what lay beneath. It’s just…natural curiosity. Claude would understand.
No! He wouldn’t! He’s the (far too attractive) sovereign of a neighboring nation! Dimitri wills his wandering thoughts back to stillness. But they return in a flurry at a shout from Claude, Dimitri’s head whirling back to see. In the confusion, a lucky shot had cut through that very dip to expose Claude’s chest further. Another had even poked a hole in his pants, leaving part of his thigh open as well.
Even without the hint of round pecs commanding guilty attention, Dimitri would be unable to take his eye off Claude, especially with what happens next.
In spite of his seemingly dire position, Claude’s shocked visage soon morphs into a smile. It’s different from his usual smiles, which tend to be tight-lipped and too small to reach his eyes. This is more of a grin, an open display of confidence and composure that grows bigger as he’s engulfed in a royal blue light, similar to Dimitri’s color. It’s most concentrated under his stomach, where the shape of a moon glows. The light pulses at the same, slow rate he twirls his arrow before the unfortunate target. A cold front seems to have replaced the warm wind from before.
Claude is about to pounce.
“Disappear. Now.”
That burst of light and arrow shot later, Claude seems back to his unruffled demeanor. Dimitri wonders if he’s simply imagining it. The tears around his chest and thigh are still there, though, and they stoke embers within him.
Dimitri feels like a hunter in his own right around Claude. It isn’t only because they’re lion and deer, nature’s chaser and escaper. This sort of competition runs deeper than that. The cocky grin or shocked expression from before weren’t deer-like in the slightest. They play in his mind’s eye repeatedly, causing to wonder at the faces Claude could pull if he was in complete control…or truly cornered.
Claude hardly failed to catch Dimitri’s attention even when they met again at Gronder. He had his task to complete first and foremost, but he still acknowledged him as Claude instead of a face merely blended in with the others.
They’re on a battlefield again, yet all he Can seem to do is acknowledge him this time. Not the soldiers who crumpled at his feet the moment he seized their necks or swung his lance, or even the ones Claude felled by his arrows. Only Claude.
“It is done.” Dimitri tosses the lance he took from the last soldier he defeated.
When it’s only them on the field, everything seems still. Their eyes meet, azure and verdant, as if compelled by a wayward wind. It all becomes clear.
Claude knows. Of course he does, even after these five years and then some. Hard to hide his desire when he wasn’t even trying, especially from the man who plans several steps ahead. The one worthy of the name “Master Tactician” simply crooks his finger and strides immediately away. It’s no wonder he can command an entire army without a single word.
He’s led into a semi-secluded area full of trees, though it isn’t isolated completely. Claude’s nowhere in sight, but Dimitri is riled up as it is and closes his eye to calm himself. It only enhances the image of Claude in his mind, the scent of fresh pine that was definitely not from a tree. So close and so far at once. The whizzing of an arrow alerts him enough to catch it in his hand and crush it easily. He had to reach a bit for that, knowing Claude hadn’t actually been aiming for him.
A low whistle. “Wow. The way you fight really is like a windstorm.” So Claude was looking at him in the same way. As if he needs more goading.
“Careful,” Dimitri grunts. “You might get swept away from the bridge.”
Despite his half-hearted warning, this is when Claude reveals himself, swooping in from above with a flourish. Once he places his hands on Dimitri’s shoulder, it’s all Dimitri can do not to shove him into the tree right in front. But he remains stock-still for Claude’s next move.
Claude makes a move as if he’s about to bolt and retreat. Dimitri would be ready for it, his muscles tensing for pursuit.
Instead, Claude only gives him that cocky smile and leans up. He makes no complaints when Dimitri relents and wraps arms around his waist, hand fisting into the patterned fabric before stilling. And clenching again. Verdant eyes flash with mirth. “It might just be what we’re hoping for.”
That’s his critical hit for Dimitri.
He was far too impatient now that his prey was willingly in his grasp, immediately burying his head in Claude’s chest. Even as he tries to hold back, it’s all too tempting to bite the red belt that stands in his way. Claude must sense his dilemma, for he laughs and tugs off the quiver, tossing it to the side. This time he moves to face the tree, back to Dimitri. It seems he wouldn’t make it that simple. But he adapts by squeezing Claude’s chest through the fabric and reveling in his sigh. Remembering the battle, and how nameless soldiers had the privilege of seeing Claude in even the slightest state of undress, Dimitri digs his fingers into the fabric and tears it further open.
Easy access. Dimitri finds the nipple that had caught his eye easily enough, dragging his thumb over it back and forth before he pinches it between cold metal.
Claude’s low groan makes Dimitri want to eat him alive. He settles then for sucking bruises wherever he can reach on his neck, still tugging at his nipples intermittently.
“If you already know what I want,” Dimitri rumbles in between bites, a storm on the horizon, “it’s only fair you bring me up to speed for you.”
He wants to hear Claude say it. He aches to hear it in Claude’s huskier voice that he wants what Dimitri will do to him, and that only. His heartfelt wish right then is for the man so good at misdirecting to beg that he’s ready and willing without any room for interpretation.
As soon as he decides that, he tugs Claude’s pants just so they reveal his rear and pauses when he feels wetness.
“Were you…planning for this?” It’s not yet verbal confirmation, but this discovery is worth a thousand words on its own. It makes his heart beat faster, sends more blood surging downwards as he starts to knead and spread Claude without even thinking.
His partner hums in pleasure. “Well, I assumed you’d be big…” Typical Claude, not giving a proper answer. It’s equally maddening and enticing. “It’s something you have to do in stages, you know? I’m not quite there yet.”
“I’ll finish the job, then,” Dimitri promises. If his voice is lower than usual, it’s only Claude’s shudder that gives him any indication.
With no patience to take off his gauntlets, Dimitri simply drops to his knees behind Claude and sets to work immediately. The first swipe of his tongue against Claude’s hole does in fact prove he’s been telling the truth. Claude’s also just seems more honest in these kinds of situations, his gasp sharp in the quiet air. Dimitri can barely hear the creak of tree bark as Claude scrabbles for purchase. He in turns responds by grasping Claude’s hips tighter to keep him in place and certainly leaving welts.
Claude’s cape is grand and gold, falling over Dimitri and covering his head. Yet their deed remains no illusion, not with Claude’s whimpers permeating the silence as Dimitri’s tongue breaches him over and over. If anything, they increase in volume when Dimitri lets go of his hip and uses that hand to skim over his clothes, right over his cock. Claude’s penchant for loose pants meant nothing with how the cloth clung tight and damp to him now.
It’s all too tempting to take Claude into hand and work him over until he spills right then and there, but Dimitri can only ignore his own throbbing problem for so long. When he stands again, he catches a glimpse of the scratches on Claude’s hand and straightens them both up.
“Dimitri, wh—“ Claude’s outburst is soon muffled against white fur.
“You’re an archer,” he rasps. “It wouldn’t do for you to have your hands injured. This will be more comfortable for you to hold.” There’s a promise laden in his words again as he grinds against Claude’s ass in impatient circles. He wonders, despite his initiation, if he could goad Claude into pleading for it.
“Well, then.” Claude’s grip tightens with one hand on the cloak as he reaches around to slick Dimitri’s cock with the other. He knew in the past Claude had oil with him for his bowstring among other homemade concoctions, but it still comes as a pleasant surprise. When did he have the time to warm that up? The corner of Claude’s smirk is all too clear when he returns both of his hands to the cloak.
“Blow me away, Tempest King.”
There’s simply no way he could refuse what his wind carried over.
Without further ado, he eases himself in. Slowly as he can, despite his body screaming at him otherwise to bury himself in that warmth. Even the slight resistance makes it better for them both as he rocks back and forth along the way, pulling cries from Claude’s mouth with each movement. When Dimitri’s in to the hilt, he splays his hand along Claude’s abdomen, right where he knows his crest glows.
Again, Claude doesn’t need words to command him. When he pushes back against Dimitri, Dimitri can only follow before pressing forward again. It’s another form of competition between them sparked anew. Dimitri no longer knows who’s really controlling the flow, but it matters not. The only things that do matter are the way Claude’s hips jump with every thrust, the clench of Claude’s walls against how his cock drags, the way Claude’s breaths stutter and start each second.
When he lifts Claude up slightly and drives in, the change in angle makes Claude tighten around him. It’s only a few thrusts more before Claude clamps down and cries out into the cloak, his pinnacle reached. All he can seem to do is try and catch his breath as Dimitri continues.
His prey seems sated for the time being. It should temper Dimitri, but instead it forces him faster, considering they both seemed to love to push limits with each other. Perhaps it was the post-battle, post-hunt adrenaline coursing through him, but Dimitri felt that familiar power well up in him until it reached its crest.
His crest.
Claude’s moan is guttural when Dimitri slams into him harder than before. For a moment, he stills and fills Claude with all he can muster. It’s twice as much with his body in temporary overdrive, in amount and force. Dimitri’s body shakes through it, shakes Claude with all his rutting and makes his cries of “Dimitri, Dimitri” fluctuate all the more.
It’s fortunate Claude’s respective crest is a healing one compared to his offensive specialty. They really were a match. It isn’t long before he speaks again. “That’s the first I’ve heard of anyone activating their crest during this sort of thing.”
Dimitri’s strangely both proud and mortified at the change in tone. It was him that made Claude even more breathless than he did after the battle.
“Was it because of these garments?” The cat-like grin on Claude’s face is palpable from tone alone.
Dimitri’s unable to resist a glance at the subtle prompting. Whatever sullen, slightly flustered response he’s about to give is nullified at the treat for his eye. Claude’s clothing would have looked perfectly fine if it weren’t for the dark stain of his own release at the front of his pants. Or the rips exposing his chest and waist. Or…well, the worst of it is Dimitri’s release trickling down his thighs, but that is an easier fix when he puts his pants on properly.
It’s a testament to how deep Claude’s pulled him in that Dimitri’s embarrassment is minimal, something else burning over it. When he sweeps Claude into his cloak and onto his back it’s purely to hide him from prying eyes, be they human or animal. This sort of sight was for him and him only.
“Send your wyvern back after she gathers what’s left, she could use a break.” Just like her owner, he doesn’t say, but Claude rises up to the challenge regardless.
Claude’s voice is tinged both low and hoarse, nearly irresistible as he wraps his arms around Dimitri’s shoulder. Taking advantage of seeming disadvantages as usual. “And what about you? Are you up to the task of me riding you all the way back? How do you know you won’t want another round later? Withdrawing already?”
“That’s not what I said at all,” Dimitri growls, raking nails into Claude’s thighs and feeling vindictive at his resulting gasp. He’s decided: If Claude thought that was potent in itself, he would be in for a shock when they were together in priv—
“I imagine you’ll have some other fun surprise for me waiting, then.” Claude squeezes his shoulders. “Like I said, just don’t be too hard on me, Your Kingliness.” In their current position, Claude can only lean forward enough to press a laughing kiss to the corner of Dimitri’s mouth.
Just like that, Dimitri’s rough demeanor blows away from hunting wolf to content puppy. He wants to curse himself for blushing despite all they’ve done, but there’s no regret in the way either of them hold onto each other.