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Sept 25 (Foreplay, Food / Breathplay)
It starts out innocently enough, like so many things with Dimitri do.
"Is it really that good?" Dimitri asks, after he's curiously watched Claude direct some of his Almyran cooks on how to work alongside the ones inside Fhirdiad castle and they've both retreated to one of their usual private rooms for a break. They have a couple of different favorites in the castle, all depending on who else is there or what things they have planned for the day. This evening, it's a quiet little study room where the sunlight filters in warmly through a series of high windows. Lovely natural light, without the risk of someone spotting them when they dare to kiss, or hold one another close.
Claude smiles as he pours the Almyran tea for them, steam caressing his face as it wafts up from their cups. Early on in his visits, when the more formal negotiation aspects between Fodlan and Almyra had finished, Dimitri had expressed an interest in Claude bringing over more of the cuisine that Almyra has to offer. It has nothing to do with the taste, they both know that.
However, a lack of taste means that Dimitri has had to learn to appreciate other aspects of eating, when he cares to take in anything about them at all instead of a simple mandatory process like breathing. Most of the time, that comes down to texture - Claude suspects that's why Dimitri enjoys cheeses so much, or dishes that heavily employ them. Other times, it involves scent, which isn't enough to entirely replace taste but definitely helps him swallow things down easier. For that, Claude has noted that he often relies on fragrant teas with meals that he might not otherwise care to have in his mouth.
And when it comes to fragrance, especially pleasant ones, Claude is proud to say that Almyran meals often can't be beat in that regard. It's their use of herbs, and spices, most of which aren't the kind of things which could have been found in Fodlan before the treaties with Almyra. That which was found was often prevalent in Leicester territories; they never made it so deep into Fodlan as to make landing in what was once the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Everything he's gotten Dimitri to sample so far has been completely new to his lover, and the heat in some dishes in particular seems to have made him react more than he possibly has in years. It's been nice for both of them, honestly - Dimitri able to find something to enjoy in food again, and Claude able to make him happy.
Tonight, he's arranged a very special dish, although it's not guaranteed to come after dinner. "It's incredible," he promises Dimitri, setting the teapot back in its place on a small magical heater that will keep the remainder of the tea at a perfect temperature. "I don't think you've ever had anything like it before."
"Nothing you've given me so far has been like anything I've ever had before," Dimitri points out, and the way he smiles at Claude makes his heart flutter in his chest. Honestly, it should be illegal what Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd's smile does to him. So many years of misery and trauma make that smile shine like a full moon in a dark night sky. "Although honestly, when you first told me how the name translates in Fodlish, I thought of the flavored ice we have here in Fhirdiad and some other northern towns... And you've always complained about that."
"That's because you unbelievable people up here insist on eating flavored ice in the dead of winter," Claude tells his best beloved sincerely, heaving out a sigh. "I'm already freezing to death during your winters, I don't need to hasten the process..." Dimitri chuckles a little bit of his tea, taking a deep breath of it before having a sip. Claude savors the look of contentment on his face as much as Dimitri savors the smell. "Besides, it's completely different. You'll see."
And Dimitri does see when they finally have small bowls of ice cream for themselves, in the very same room only lit by a warm fireplace instead of the sun. It's a completely different texture compared to flavored ice, smoother and creamier before it melts into a lovely gooey mess on the tongue. Claude laughs at the startled noise Dimitri makes at the first spoonful. None of the flavors are anything fancy, just what would keep the best on the trip to Fhirdiad. Fortunately for Claude, that had included some of his favorties - pistachios, rosewater, and saffron, of course.
On paper, it's to introduce some of Almyra's ingredients across the border, and encourage trade, or interest some farmers in making the move closer to places where those plants grow. Get the blood of economy flowing throughout Fodlan, along with seeing what plants can be welcomed across borders without completely wrecking the local ecosystems. It's a lot of work, although thankfully work that can be delegated to the right people with the knowledge and care. And all of that is true. Claude won't ever let his personal feelings get in the way of chasing his dream, of opening the borders in both lands and hearts alike.
However, sometimes he can attach his personal feelings to his dreams... and bastani is his favorite, with all of his favorite things mixed in together. Being able to share that with Dimitri, even if he can't do it fully - seeing the way he happily crunches down on the pistachios, his soft sighs when the ice cream melts on his tongue, the delighted noises he makes when he finds chunks of cream in his latest bite.... Claude couldn't be happier.
Well, he'll be happier whenever Dimitri's taste makes a return, since he's fairly certain it's a trauma response of some sort. For now, well, at least Claude can enjoy the taste, and he makes soft moans and purrs of his own as he savors the complex combination that makes this his favorite dessert. He doesn't realize it's anything strange until a few bites in, when he glances over to see how Dimitri is working on his own bowl.
As with most food that Dimitri eats, even that which he "likes" (for a given value of that), he's already halfway through, but that's not the notable thing. Dimitri's attention is focused completely on him, like an arrow notched at a practice target. The second Claude's gaze meets his, he gives a jerk, as if realizing his issue. "Oh- I apologize. I was staring."
"Staring isn't the rudest thing you've done to me," Claude says slyly, and grins around his spoon when Dimitri goes pink. "But go on, then. What's on your mind?"
Dimitri takes a moment, as he often does, trying to get his words to come out correctly or in the order he wants them to. Honestly, it would be alright if he didn't... Claude knows that he has to think so very carefully as the king of what is now a new country, made by winding three together, and a lot is riding on him. A lot is riding on both of them. Yet in private, when they're away from the eyes of so many people who would judge them, they can be as honest or clumsy together as they like. It's something Claude has to constantly remind himself of, too.
"You really.... seemed to have a reaction to the taste," Dimitri finally says, which is certainly a way of putting it. "You looked as though you were enjoying every spoonful so much... So, well." He brushes back some of his hair, messing up the careful style he'd done it up in for a proper (and public) meeting with another country's king. "I was wondering.... could I feed some of it to you?"
All he does is finish that sentence, and the twist in Dimitri's mouth is a dead giveaway that he feels he's said something strange. Claude doesn't let him have a chance to walk it back, however. He twists his spoon around, offering the handle over to Dimitri across the table. "Of course," he says, smiling. "I'd love it if you did, Mitya."
Dimitri pauses, stares at him... and then he smiles back, carefully accepting the spoon so that he doesn't bend it. He scoots his chair closer, just like Claude does for his, and then they just.... pause for a second, laughing quietly with one another. Once upon a time, neither of them could have imagined their lives being so comfortable like this. The war had been a factor, of course, something that had been their focus one way or another... but there were other reasons, too, that Claude thought he couldn't have this kind of life.
Someone who loves him, and smiles at him like he's a star, and gingerly feeds him ice cream just to hear the noises of happiness he makes.
Lost in the moment, Claude doesn't really think too hard about his actions, just follows through on automatic instinct. That's fine and all, normally... but sometimes it's not the most refined of processes. He doesn't even realize that he's taken in the latest bit a bit sloppily until Dimitri makes a small noise, and Claude blinks. There's a cool sensation against one cheek, dripping a sticky trail from the corner of his mouth. Well, that's what he gets for enjoying himself a little too much. He opens his mouth, expecting Dimitri to fuss around for a napkin while he licks what he can reach -
Calloused fingers suddenly press along both sides of his jaw, exerting just enough pressure to get his attention, to make him stop. Claude does. His eyes flicker upwards, and... Dimitri wasn't always this close, was he? Not even a foot away, now, and Claude's whole body goes still. He doesn't even think about it. At this point, when he sees the way Dimitri's eye goes dark and focused, when he feels that spine-tingling level of strength press against his body... Claude can't do anything else. He simply goes still.
And when Claude goes still, that pulls a reaction from Dimitri in turn. He presses closer, setting Claude's heart off in a series of eager thuds, and his fingers shift. It seems like such a little thing, at first. Just the subtle slide of his fingers. It's almost a surprise when they follow the dip of flesh that goes to his jaw, dig into that sticky wet spot where ice cream starts to pool against Dimitri's fingertip. Claude curls his own hand tightly against the tabletop, eyelashes fluttering. This is a surprise... but not one he'll refuse.
Especially not when Dimitri begins to dig and push his finger a little more, guiding the ice cream back into Claude's mouth. Claude scrapes his nails against the tablecloth as one calloused finger grinds against the corner of his mouth, bumps against his teeth. Dimitri still doesn't say anything, just watches. What he wants... Well. Claude can make quite the educated guess there. As he feels Dimitri's finger press deeper inside, Claude dares to arch his tongue up against it, meet it halfway with a probing tip, an arch against it as it slides further in.
That seems to be enough to snap Dimitri out of it, for just a moment, and his own breath catches as he takes in the sight before him. Time stands still, and starts again when he lets out a slow breath. "Claude," he murmurs, watching the saliva gathering along the corner of his mouth. "Could I....?"
What he wants to do isn't entirely clear, not exactly... But there, too, is a place that Claude can make an educated guess at. It's a place he doesn't mind visiting, and, anyway, he knows he'll be safe. Not only because it's Dimitri, his Dimitri who would put himself to his knees and worship Claude like a god if only he ever asked, although that's certainly a factor, yes. But it's because this isn't the first time their attractions to one another have sparked... And, like with so many embers, there's just a little bit of heat to remind them to stay careful, each time.
Just not so careful that the heat isn't a tantalizing threat.
Dimitri presses his finger just a little deeper in, and a second presses against Claude's lip. He doesn't swallow, doesn't dare to without permission, just sits there with his eyelids fluttering as the melted ice cream teases at his mouth. Whatever sight he makes, it utterly entrances Dimitri as he slides his finger against Claude's tongue. Soon, its fellow joins it, pushing into Claude's mouth as well, pinning his tongue inbetween them while the taste of rosewater washes over everything. Dimitri rubs it in, literally, grinding the liquid in against his tongue in a way that feels almost.... sensual.
"Swallow," he murmurs quietly, and, under that piercing stare, Claude can't refuse. He obeys, throat bobbing while his tongue arches up helplessly where Dimitri keeps it otherwise in place. The way the ice cream slides down his throat... It's far too cold for what he usually swallows from Dimitri, but something about the scenario, the sticky slide of it...
Claude swallows down everything he possibly can. When Dimitri eases his fingers up, lets them simply rest in Claude's mouth instead of pinching the tip of his tongue, he begins to slowly suck on them. Dimitri said 'swallow'... And he knows better than to think he means anything less than every single drop. So he cleans as best he can, the spoon that was once in his fingers long forgotten as he closes his lips tightly around Dimitri's digits, and grinds his tongue up into those rough fingers.
Once everything has been made pristine - for a given value of that, with saliva involved - Dimitri nudges Claude's mouth wide open. There isn't really anything particularly obscene in just opening his mouth... Fingers in his mouth aside. Honestly it should probably feel a little silly. It doesn't. It feels anything but, with Dimitri's fingers keeping it held open as they press down on his tongue, and the way he tilts his head to the side as he peers into him to check just for himself how well Claude has listened to him.
The answer, like every time, is perfectly. Dimitri drags his fingers out from Claude's mouth, slides them against the flat of his tongue. "Again?" he murmurs, which should be an order, but is more of a faint question, and some of that razor focus ebbs away a little as he looks right into Claude's eyes instead of his mouth.
It's such a sweet thing, seeing his care after Claude has experienced how wonderfully rough Dimitri can get with him. It's like spice with dessert - something one wouldn't normally think of but which can be perfect in just the right balance. Claude's lips curve faintly at the end, just a little bit, because he can't help himself. Who couldn't love a man like this? Who couldn't be attracted? Certainly not him... and that's why he only opens his mouth even more, tongue slipping out past his bottom lip in waiting desire.
That's the only answer Dimitri needs before he dips his fingers back into Claude's bowl. Really, he should be feeling at least a little disgust, because he may be a mess in his room but not the way he eats... Except that's the thing about Dimitri. He makes every filthy, disgusting thing feel so good, and why they always end up such a sweaty mess in whatever bed they can get to first. Tonight isn't the kind of night where they need a bed, however.
Tonight is for his finely made shirt, resplendent in Almyran designs, being plucked open. Tonight is for pale ice cream sliding down his chin, splattering across his chest before Dimitri can catch it. Tonight is for those warm fingers, intermingled with the chill of ice cream as they slide inside of his already sopping wet mouth....
Claude is wholly unsurprised when Dimitri drags sticky fingers out of his mouth to finally dive in for a ravenous kiss as though he were the dessert instead.
"Did you miss me that much?" he purrs, Dimitri's mouth sliding against the side of his neck. He's trying to be smooth, attractive, appealing to Dimitri - so it kind of ruins the image he was going for when Dimitri suddenly hauls him up. Claude gives a startled squeak-yelp of a noise, clinging hard. That earns a sulky glare, he should think. A pity that Dimitri just grins at him, except not really. Claude, to his great misfortune, is a sucker for those bright boyish grins Dimitri makes.
They almost never show up anywhere else except when they're together, after all.
Dimitri hauls him over to the sitting couch that rests in this little corner of the castle, this little room no one will think to find them in for at least quite some time. Together, they bounce against it upon impact. "I always miss you," Dimitri says, spreading Claude against the couch, where his dark curls practically unfurl against the pretty royal blue fabric of the armrest. He tucks his hair behind one ear as he leans down, keeping it out of the way for both his own purposes and Claude's view of where he kisses. Just soft little fluttering things, at first, before his tongue presses flat against his skin. "Every day when you are gone, I long for your touch..."
One of these days, he's going to die from the things Dimitri says to him. Claude swears it, he really will. Whether it's that bone-deep earnest romance, or that domineering desire... It's overwhelming in the best way. He blindly reaches back with one hand, nails digging into the upholstery. "What do you think about, then?" he asks, gasping as Dimitri's teeth graze one nipple. "Do you think about all the ways you want me...?"
Another slow drag from the flat of Dimitri's tongue, scooping up what's left of the ice cream that's stuck to his skin. "Everything," Dimitri murmurs against Claude's ribs, nipping at soft flesh when his licking doesn't quite remove the ice cream. He squirms, but Dimitri's grasp is like steel. There's no escaping it. "I dreamed of taking you the second I could get you away from people, right in whatever empty hall I could reach first..."
"Oh." Claude moans, guiding his free hand downwards until he can tangle it in Dimitri's hair. What an image that would be - the king of a visiting nation being taken and ravished by Fodlan's ruler, their Savior king, their wild boar king, right there where just anyone could stumble onto it. It makes his cock twitch in his pants even before Dimitri's hands settle upon his cloth belt. Eager and almost clumsy fingers work at the ties that keep it in place, until with an arch of his hips and a tug of Dimtiri's grip it goes fluttering to the ground. "Tell me more, Mitya."
More of his filthy daydreams will have to wait, for just a second. Dimitri's mouth is preoccupied with something, and that something would be leaving a trail of marks all along his stomach and sides, down to his hips. "You look so beautiful like this," he breathes, the air from his lips tickling at the slight trail of hair that leads down between his legs and disappears behind his pants. Pants that won't stay on for much longer. "All spread out in my castle, beneath my body, under my hands. I don't know how I can ever hold back with you, Claude... Whether that's taking you in public, or lavishing attention to your body, worshipping it as though you were a god I'd pledged myself to. You're so beautiful as to be one..."
Uh oh. Oh no. Claude squirms, not only to help Dimitri slide his pants off of his hips, but because those words. They get him every time, these sincere declarations of love, of adoration, until he's left hiding his face against one arm. "Oh, Mitya," he whispers, as his feet catch the waistband of his pants only momentarily before they join his belt there on the floor. No one has ever, in his entire life, spoken to him with such love as Dimitri does, every time they meet.
So while he'd like to say that the throbbing erection between his legs is from their earlier antics with the ice cream, well... Who knows what the truth really is. There's only the truth of reality right there atop him as Dimitri reaches down, fingers trailing up the hard length of him. It's the hand he didn't use to feed Claude, so it's perfectly dry and thus utterly careful as it feels along him. Claude shivers again, one rough pad swiping across his leaking tip. "Beautiful," Dimitri repeats in almost reverent tones, before he ducks his head down and adds his tongue to the equation.
Funny, how once upon a time Claude had needed to teach Dimitri the fine art of oral, and how scandalized his lover had been at every end result. Like somehow having the giving party swallow come was some great scandal, or rude act. He'd only fussed further when Claude had told him the alternatives, spitting it out or letting it splatter against his face.
Now? Now he gets to watch as Dimitri sinks down along his cock with eager hunger, having quickly become skilled with no taste to get in the way as hesitation. Claude still wants to see a day when he can feed his lover foods and know he's really enjoying it... but he has to admit that, in a situation like this, with Dimitri's tongue lathing against his arousal, it's almost a sort of advantage.
Claude was already turned on as it was. Soon enough, he's left a writhing mess against the couch cushions as Dimitri gladly drives him up the wall. His fingers scratch against the armrest, tangle in Dimitri's hair, and Claude can't even think on if he'll be heard or not as he starts moaning and whining with every suck and lick. In a more rational state, he knows there would be no need to worry. Dimitri always ensures they have time together far away from the usual hustle of the castle, or where someone could easily track him down for nonsense that doesn't really need his attention.
But he's not really thinking. He's lost in the sensation of Dimitri's tongue, on the arousal curling in his stomach as easily as the taste of rosewater and pistachios does on his tongue. It catches him completely by surprise when Dimitri's mouth pops off of his cock with a lewd sound. He starts to make a noise of protest, a soft whine, but the cushions dip beneath him, Dimitri adjusting himself, and then... there are fingers folding gently around his throat.
Dimitri's hand fits so easily like this... Claude's cock twitches. Aches. He focuses hazy eyes up at Dimitri as the other man looms over him, lips still spit slick and shiny from where he had been working so diligently down below on Claude. "Hush," Dimitri murmurs, shades of black mixing in with that adoring look of his. "You're going to get attention like this, Claude... You don't want that, do you?"
And his grasp tightens, just enough to make it harder for him to take in air. Claude bucks his hips up desperately, nails dragging down against the armrest. "Will you keep me quiet?" he gurgles, smiling up at his lover while his head lolls in that strong grip.
Claude can't refuse any of Dimitri's demands. Dimitri can't refuse any of Claude's requests. His fellow king leans down, still holding him by the throat, and slots their lips together as though there was never any possibility of otherwise.
Every single one of Dimitri's kisses are perfect: the soft ones full of worship like Claude is the only person in the universe, those wild rough kisses that flash hints of teeth, the quick kisses they exchange in empty hallways and moonlit gardens with no one's eyes on them. This is one of those demanding kisses, domineering, but not wild, and Claude moves his hands from the couch, from Dimitri's hair, to desperately grip at his lover's shoulders. Dimitri's hand... That stays right where it is, tightening bit by bit, a steel vice.
Tears prick at his eyes. His heart flutters in his chest, even though he knows he's not in any danger. His lungs begin to burn. Claude relishes in the feeling, no matter how close to danger it is, no matter how much his body yells at him. He writhes underneath Dimitri, under the palm of his hand. Is he tearing at those fine royal blue clothes of his? Claude has no idea, and doesn't care. All he cares about is the heat of Dimitri's mouth, stealing all the air from his mouth that his lungs are desperately trying to keep. Steals, and blocks, and stops... until there's nothing left, Claude's lips gaping helplessly as he tries to draw breath.
It shouldn't get him off, it really shouldn't. It does anyway, arousal straining in the warm air of the little library nook with nothing to show for it. The darkness that is creeping at the edge of his vision, the haze of his mind, Dimitri still so close... And it all comes rushing back to him, literally, as Dimitri's fingers loosen around his neck. Claude blinks tears from his eyes, throat ragged as he gasps in air again and again.
The relief lasts only a short moment. Dimitri's fingers don't close in again, but his lips do, a deep kiss that robs Claude of every little breath he's managed to make. He doesn't mind, far from it. Spreading his legs wide, he hauls himself closer to Dimitri with trembling hands. Like this, as their kiss deepens with saliva starting to crawl from the corners of his mouth, Claude can almost feel himself graze Dimitri. It's just the tip of his cock, traces of his arousal smearing against that fine silky fabric...
Before Claude can rut against it, tumble into a selfish and shameless pursuit of pleasure, Dimitri's grip forces him down against the couch again. Keeping Claude utterly in place with a single hand alone, Dimitri drags his tongue along his lips. Even if he can't taste one of many results of their passion... He seems to savor it regardless, just like he savors the way Claude looks pinned in place. "You're going to make us filthy, Claude," he says, same soft and heavy voice as he's been using almost this entire time.
"Not as filthy as I want us to be," Claude says, the words a playful rasp dragging out of his throat. The same throat that Dimitri is still holding so neatly. Claude wonders if he'll leave behind bruises, if he'll have to wear a scarf for this latest visit into Fhirdiad. His lips quirk up in a grin. "Do you have anything prepared for this, Mitya...?"
And that's when the spell breaks. No longer is Dimitri the imposing and aggressive beast above him. Instead, he blinks, and his one eye looks so caught off guard with his lips parted in slow realization. Then the embarrassed blush follows shortly after, turning his skin an adorable crimson. "I forgot the oil in my room," he whispers, mortified. "I was going to whisk you there after dinner, but I became an utter animal. Claude, I am so sorry."
Gods, he loves Dimitri so much, and Claude bursts out laughing, only to fall into a fit of coughing. With the state his throat is in, it needs far gentler treatment than that. That sends Dimitri immediately into a frenzy. Before Claude knows it, he's being tugged upright against the couch, all their clothing is being gathered up to be awkwardly folded and shoved aside, and Dimitri is hovering over by the table they were eating at only a few moments beforehand.
Another soft distressed noise. "Oh no, the ice cream is melting-! Claude, stop laughing, you're going to hurt your throat more."
How is he supposed to stop, exactly? Head lolling against the couch, Claude closes his eyes with a wide grin. "The ice cream will be fine if you give it to me like it is, Dimitri. It probably hasn't melted too badly after so short a time, although your fingers earlier probably didn't help."
Dimitri wears bald-faced shame like a champ, bowl of ice cream cradled gently in both his hands as he returns to Claude. At least he doesn't apologize again, tempting though it must no doubt be. Dimitri feels as though he needs to apologize for his continued existence sometimes; that he's holding back is a good sign of progress in Claude's book. It's a good sign of how stable he is. "Here, have this. The cold and liquid should help your throat, I would think."
It probably will, honestly, and Claude accepts the bowl gladly... although not before he winks up at Dimitri. "I hear nice hot cream straight from the source helps a sore throat too..." All Dimitri does is give him a flat look, and Claude laughs again before he hastily gets a scoop of ice cream to eat. He can't be too naughty, after all. He is wondering just what they'll do about the little problem still firm between his legs...
And that's a question that soon gets an immediate answer as, instead of retrieving his own bowl, Dimitri sinks down onto his knees. When Claude bursts out laughing again, almost choking on his latest spoonful, Dimitri pouts. "I - it would be rude to have gotten you so worked up, and then leave you with such a problem! Just - eat your ice cream and I will help - soothe this."
Soothe this. He's going to soothe Claude's hard and aroused cock. His heart swells, mostly with laughter, but with a little warm fondness too. Dimitri is the only one who puts things this way, who only slips into the really filthy talk when he's too worked up to hold himself back. Claude never minds it when they get to that point... but there's something sweet about this, too. Sweet enough to match the ice cream he lets sink onto his tongue again. Wiggling into place, Claude smiles around his spoon down at Dimitri.
"Just try not to be so good that I choke on my spoon," he tells Dimitri playfully, allowing his legs to be moved and adjusted until they're slung over Dimitri's broad shoulders.
"Oh, I would never say I'm that good," Dimitri demures, pressing a kiss against the inside of Claude's thigh.
As he sinks another spoonful of sweetness past his lips, Claude watches Dimitri sink down onto something he seems to find just as delicious. A low moan rumbles through the back of his throat. "I would say you're far better," he murmurs, and feels the way Dimitri smiles around his cock.
They don't sneak away to Dimitri's room until much later.... and only after Claude is able to return the favor.
"Is it really that good?" Dimitri asks, after he's curiously watched Claude direct some of his Almyran cooks on how to work alongside the ones inside Fhirdiad castle and they've both retreated to one of their usual private rooms for a break. They have a couple of different favorites in the castle, all depending on who else is there or what things they have planned for the day. This evening, it's a quiet little study room where the sunlight filters in warmly through a series of high windows. Lovely natural light, without the risk of someone spotting them when they dare to kiss, or hold one another close.
Claude smiles as he pours the Almyran tea for them, steam caressing his face as it wafts up from their cups. Early on in his visits, when the more formal negotiation aspects between Fodlan and Almyra had finished, Dimitri had expressed an interest in Claude bringing over more of the cuisine that Almyra has to offer. It has nothing to do with the taste, they both know that.
However, a lack of taste means that Dimitri has had to learn to appreciate other aspects of eating, when he cares to take in anything about them at all instead of a simple mandatory process like breathing. Most of the time, that comes down to texture - Claude suspects that's why Dimitri enjoys cheeses so much, or dishes that heavily employ them. Other times, it involves scent, which isn't enough to entirely replace taste but definitely helps him swallow things down easier. For that, Claude has noted that he often relies on fragrant teas with meals that he might not otherwise care to have in his mouth.
And when it comes to fragrance, especially pleasant ones, Claude is proud to say that Almyran meals often can't be beat in that regard. It's their use of herbs, and spices, most of which aren't the kind of things which could have been found in Fodlan before the treaties with Almyra. That which was found was often prevalent in Leicester territories; they never made it so deep into Fodlan as to make landing in what was once the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Everything he's gotten Dimitri to sample so far has been completely new to his lover, and the heat in some dishes in particular seems to have made him react more than he possibly has in years. It's been nice for both of them, honestly - Dimitri able to find something to enjoy in food again, and Claude able to make him happy.
Tonight, he's arranged a very special dish, although it's not guaranteed to come after dinner. "It's incredible," he promises Dimitri, setting the teapot back in its place on a small magical heater that will keep the remainder of the tea at a perfect temperature. "I don't think you've ever had anything like it before."
"Nothing you've given me so far has been like anything I've ever had before," Dimitri points out, and the way he smiles at Claude makes his heart flutter in his chest. Honestly, it should be illegal what Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd's smile does to him. So many years of misery and trauma make that smile shine like a full moon in a dark night sky. "Although honestly, when you first told me how the name translates in Fodlish, I thought of the flavored ice we have here in Fhirdiad and some other northern towns... And you've always complained about that."
"That's because you unbelievable people up here insist on eating flavored ice in the dead of winter," Claude tells his best beloved sincerely, heaving out a sigh. "I'm already freezing to death during your winters, I don't need to hasten the process..." Dimitri chuckles a little bit of his tea, taking a deep breath of it before having a sip. Claude savors the look of contentment on his face as much as Dimitri savors the smell. "Besides, it's completely different. You'll see."
And Dimitri does see when they finally have small bowls of ice cream for themselves, in the very same room only lit by a warm fireplace instead of the sun. It's a completely different texture compared to flavored ice, smoother and creamier before it melts into a lovely gooey mess on the tongue. Claude laughs at the startled noise Dimitri makes at the first spoonful. None of the flavors are anything fancy, just what would keep the best on the trip to Fhirdiad. Fortunately for Claude, that had included some of his favorties - pistachios, rosewater, and saffron, of course.
On paper, it's to introduce some of Almyra's ingredients across the border, and encourage trade, or interest some farmers in making the move closer to places where those plants grow. Get the blood of economy flowing throughout Fodlan, along with seeing what plants can be welcomed across borders without completely wrecking the local ecosystems. It's a lot of work, although thankfully work that can be delegated to the right people with the knowledge and care. And all of that is true. Claude won't ever let his personal feelings get in the way of chasing his dream, of opening the borders in both lands and hearts alike.
However, sometimes he can attach his personal feelings to his dreams... and bastani is his favorite, with all of his favorite things mixed in together. Being able to share that with Dimitri, even if he can't do it fully - seeing the way he happily crunches down on the pistachios, his soft sighs when the ice cream melts on his tongue, the delighted noises he makes when he finds chunks of cream in his latest bite.... Claude couldn't be happier.
Well, he'll be happier whenever Dimitri's taste makes a return, since he's fairly certain it's a trauma response of some sort. For now, well, at least Claude can enjoy the taste, and he makes soft moans and purrs of his own as he savors the complex combination that makes this his favorite dessert. He doesn't realize it's anything strange until a few bites in, when he glances over to see how Dimitri is working on his own bowl.
As with most food that Dimitri eats, even that which he "likes" (for a given value of that), he's already halfway through, but that's not the notable thing. Dimitri's attention is focused completely on him, like an arrow notched at a practice target. The second Claude's gaze meets his, he gives a jerk, as if realizing his issue. "Oh- I apologize. I was staring."
"Staring isn't the rudest thing you've done to me," Claude says slyly, and grins around his spoon when Dimitri goes pink. "But go on, then. What's on your mind?"
Dimitri takes a moment, as he often does, trying to get his words to come out correctly or in the order he wants them to. Honestly, it would be alright if he didn't... Claude knows that he has to think so very carefully as the king of what is now a new country, made by winding three together, and a lot is riding on him. A lot is riding on both of them. Yet in private, when they're away from the eyes of so many people who would judge them, they can be as honest or clumsy together as they like. It's something Claude has to constantly remind himself of, too.
"You really.... seemed to have a reaction to the taste," Dimitri finally says, which is certainly a way of putting it. "You looked as though you were enjoying every spoonful so much... So, well." He brushes back some of his hair, messing up the careful style he'd done it up in for a proper (and public) meeting with another country's king. "I was wondering.... could I feed some of it to you?"
All he does is finish that sentence, and the twist in Dimitri's mouth is a dead giveaway that he feels he's said something strange. Claude doesn't let him have a chance to walk it back, however. He twists his spoon around, offering the handle over to Dimitri across the table. "Of course," he says, smiling. "I'd love it if you did, Mitya."
Dimitri pauses, stares at him... and then he smiles back, carefully accepting the spoon so that he doesn't bend it. He scoots his chair closer, just like Claude does for his, and then they just.... pause for a second, laughing quietly with one another. Once upon a time, neither of them could have imagined their lives being so comfortable like this. The war had been a factor, of course, something that had been their focus one way or another... but there were other reasons, too, that Claude thought he couldn't have this kind of life.
Someone who loves him, and smiles at him like he's a star, and gingerly feeds him ice cream just to hear the noises of happiness he makes.
Lost in the moment, Claude doesn't really think too hard about his actions, just follows through on automatic instinct. That's fine and all, normally... but sometimes it's not the most refined of processes. He doesn't even realize that he's taken in the latest bit a bit sloppily until Dimitri makes a small noise, and Claude blinks. There's a cool sensation against one cheek, dripping a sticky trail from the corner of his mouth. Well, that's what he gets for enjoying himself a little too much. He opens his mouth, expecting Dimitri to fuss around for a napkin while he licks what he can reach -
Calloused fingers suddenly press along both sides of his jaw, exerting just enough pressure to get his attention, to make him stop. Claude does. His eyes flicker upwards, and... Dimitri wasn't always this close, was he? Not even a foot away, now, and Claude's whole body goes still. He doesn't even think about it. At this point, when he sees the way Dimitri's eye goes dark and focused, when he feels that spine-tingling level of strength press against his body... Claude can't do anything else. He simply goes still.
And when Claude goes still, that pulls a reaction from Dimitri in turn. He presses closer, setting Claude's heart off in a series of eager thuds, and his fingers shift. It seems like such a little thing, at first. Just the subtle slide of his fingers. It's almost a surprise when they follow the dip of flesh that goes to his jaw, dig into that sticky wet spot where ice cream starts to pool against Dimitri's fingertip. Claude curls his own hand tightly against the tabletop, eyelashes fluttering. This is a surprise... but not one he'll refuse.
Especially not when Dimitri begins to dig and push his finger a little more, guiding the ice cream back into Claude's mouth. Claude scrapes his nails against the tablecloth as one calloused finger grinds against the corner of his mouth, bumps against his teeth. Dimitri still doesn't say anything, just watches. What he wants... Well. Claude can make quite the educated guess there. As he feels Dimitri's finger press deeper inside, Claude dares to arch his tongue up against it, meet it halfway with a probing tip, an arch against it as it slides further in.
That seems to be enough to snap Dimitri out of it, for just a moment, and his own breath catches as he takes in the sight before him. Time stands still, and starts again when he lets out a slow breath. "Claude," he murmurs, watching the saliva gathering along the corner of his mouth. "Could I....?"
What he wants to do isn't entirely clear, not exactly... But there, too, is a place that Claude can make an educated guess at. It's a place he doesn't mind visiting, and, anyway, he knows he'll be safe. Not only because it's Dimitri, his Dimitri who would put himself to his knees and worship Claude like a god if only he ever asked, although that's certainly a factor, yes. But it's because this isn't the first time their attractions to one another have sparked... And, like with so many embers, there's just a little bit of heat to remind them to stay careful, each time.
Just not so careful that the heat isn't a tantalizing threat.
Dimitri presses his finger just a little deeper in, and a second presses against Claude's lip. He doesn't swallow, doesn't dare to without permission, just sits there with his eyelids fluttering as the melted ice cream teases at his mouth. Whatever sight he makes, it utterly entrances Dimitri as he slides his finger against Claude's tongue. Soon, its fellow joins it, pushing into Claude's mouth as well, pinning his tongue inbetween them while the taste of rosewater washes over everything. Dimitri rubs it in, literally, grinding the liquid in against his tongue in a way that feels almost.... sensual.
"Swallow," he murmurs quietly, and, under that piercing stare, Claude can't refuse. He obeys, throat bobbing while his tongue arches up helplessly where Dimitri keeps it otherwise in place. The way the ice cream slides down his throat... It's far too cold for what he usually swallows from Dimitri, but something about the scenario, the sticky slide of it...
Claude swallows down everything he possibly can. When Dimitri eases his fingers up, lets them simply rest in Claude's mouth instead of pinching the tip of his tongue, he begins to slowly suck on them. Dimitri said 'swallow'... And he knows better than to think he means anything less than every single drop. So he cleans as best he can, the spoon that was once in his fingers long forgotten as he closes his lips tightly around Dimitri's digits, and grinds his tongue up into those rough fingers.
Once everything has been made pristine - for a given value of that, with saliva involved - Dimitri nudges Claude's mouth wide open. There isn't really anything particularly obscene in just opening his mouth... Fingers in his mouth aside. Honestly it should probably feel a little silly. It doesn't. It feels anything but, with Dimitri's fingers keeping it held open as they press down on his tongue, and the way he tilts his head to the side as he peers into him to check just for himself how well Claude has listened to him.
The answer, like every time, is perfectly. Dimitri drags his fingers out from Claude's mouth, slides them against the flat of his tongue. "Again?" he murmurs, which should be an order, but is more of a faint question, and some of that razor focus ebbs away a little as he looks right into Claude's eyes instead of his mouth.
It's such a sweet thing, seeing his care after Claude has experienced how wonderfully rough Dimitri can get with him. It's like spice with dessert - something one wouldn't normally think of but which can be perfect in just the right balance. Claude's lips curve faintly at the end, just a little bit, because he can't help himself. Who couldn't love a man like this? Who couldn't be attracted? Certainly not him... and that's why he only opens his mouth even more, tongue slipping out past his bottom lip in waiting desire.
That's the only answer Dimitri needs before he dips his fingers back into Claude's bowl. Really, he should be feeling at least a little disgust, because he may be a mess in his room but not the way he eats... Except that's the thing about Dimitri. He makes every filthy, disgusting thing feel so good, and why they always end up such a sweaty mess in whatever bed they can get to first. Tonight isn't the kind of night where they need a bed, however.
Tonight is for his finely made shirt, resplendent in Almyran designs, being plucked open. Tonight is for pale ice cream sliding down his chin, splattering across his chest before Dimitri can catch it. Tonight is for those warm fingers, intermingled with the chill of ice cream as they slide inside of his already sopping wet mouth....
Claude is wholly unsurprised when Dimitri drags sticky fingers out of his mouth to finally dive in for a ravenous kiss as though he were the dessert instead.
"Did you miss me that much?" he purrs, Dimitri's mouth sliding against the side of his neck. He's trying to be smooth, attractive, appealing to Dimitri - so it kind of ruins the image he was going for when Dimitri suddenly hauls him up. Claude gives a startled squeak-yelp of a noise, clinging hard. That earns a sulky glare, he should think. A pity that Dimitri just grins at him, except not really. Claude, to his great misfortune, is a sucker for those bright boyish grins Dimitri makes.
They almost never show up anywhere else except when they're together, after all.
Dimitri hauls him over to the sitting couch that rests in this little corner of the castle, this little room no one will think to find them in for at least quite some time. Together, they bounce against it upon impact. "I always miss you," Dimitri says, spreading Claude against the couch, where his dark curls practically unfurl against the pretty royal blue fabric of the armrest. He tucks his hair behind one ear as he leans down, keeping it out of the way for both his own purposes and Claude's view of where he kisses. Just soft little fluttering things, at first, before his tongue presses flat against his skin. "Every day when you are gone, I long for your touch..."
One of these days, he's going to die from the things Dimitri says to him. Claude swears it, he really will. Whether it's that bone-deep earnest romance, or that domineering desire... It's overwhelming in the best way. He blindly reaches back with one hand, nails digging into the upholstery. "What do you think about, then?" he asks, gasping as Dimitri's teeth graze one nipple. "Do you think about all the ways you want me...?"
Another slow drag from the flat of Dimitri's tongue, scooping up what's left of the ice cream that's stuck to his skin. "Everything," Dimitri murmurs against Claude's ribs, nipping at soft flesh when his licking doesn't quite remove the ice cream. He squirms, but Dimitri's grasp is like steel. There's no escaping it. "I dreamed of taking you the second I could get you away from people, right in whatever empty hall I could reach first..."
"Oh." Claude moans, guiding his free hand downwards until he can tangle it in Dimitri's hair. What an image that would be - the king of a visiting nation being taken and ravished by Fodlan's ruler, their Savior king, their wild boar king, right there where just anyone could stumble onto it. It makes his cock twitch in his pants even before Dimitri's hands settle upon his cloth belt. Eager and almost clumsy fingers work at the ties that keep it in place, until with an arch of his hips and a tug of Dimtiri's grip it goes fluttering to the ground. "Tell me more, Mitya."
More of his filthy daydreams will have to wait, for just a second. Dimitri's mouth is preoccupied with something, and that something would be leaving a trail of marks all along his stomach and sides, down to his hips. "You look so beautiful like this," he breathes, the air from his lips tickling at the slight trail of hair that leads down between his legs and disappears behind his pants. Pants that won't stay on for much longer. "All spread out in my castle, beneath my body, under my hands. I don't know how I can ever hold back with you, Claude... Whether that's taking you in public, or lavishing attention to your body, worshipping it as though you were a god I'd pledged myself to. You're so beautiful as to be one..."
Uh oh. Oh no. Claude squirms, not only to help Dimitri slide his pants off of his hips, but because those words. They get him every time, these sincere declarations of love, of adoration, until he's left hiding his face against one arm. "Oh, Mitya," he whispers, as his feet catch the waistband of his pants only momentarily before they join his belt there on the floor. No one has ever, in his entire life, spoken to him with such love as Dimitri does, every time they meet.
So while he'd like to say that the throbbing erection between his legs is from their earlier antics with the ice cream, well... Who knows what the truth really is. There's only the truth of reality right there atop him as Dimitri reaches down, fingers trailing up the hard length of him. It's the hand he didn't use to feed Claude, so it's perfectly dry and thus utterly careful as it feels along him. Claude shivers again, one rough pad swiping across his leaking tip. "Beautiful," Dimitri repeats in almost reverent tones, before he ducks his head down and adds his tongue to the equation.
Funny, how once upon a time Claude had needed to teach Dimitri the fine art of oral, and how scandalized his lover had been at every end result. Like somehow having the giving party swallow come was some great scandal, or rude act. He'd only fussed further when Claude had told him the alternatives, spitting it out or letting it splatter against his face.
Now? Now he gets to watch as Dimitri sinks down along his cock with eager hunger, having quickly become skilled with no taste to get in the way as hesitation. Claude still wants to see a day when he can feed his lover foods and know he's really enjoying it... but he has to admit that, in a situation like this, with Dimitri's tongue lathing against his arousal, it's almost a sort of advantage.
Claude was already turned on as it was. Soon enough, he's left a writhing mess against the couch cushions as Dimitri gladly drives him up the wall. His fingers scratch against the armrest, tangle in Dimitri's hair, and Claude can't even think on if he'll be heard or not as he starts moaning and whining with every suck and lick. In a more rational state, he knows there would be no need to worry. Dimitri always ensures they have time together far away from the usual hustle of the castle, or where someone could easily track him down for nonsense that doesn't really need his attention.
But he's not really thinking. He's lost in the sensation of Dimitri's tongue, on the arousal curling in his stomach as easily as the taste of rosewater and pistachios does on his tongue. It catches him completely by surprise when Dimitri's mouth pops off of his cock with a lewd sound. He starts to make a noise of protest, a soft whine, but the cushions dip beneath him, Dimitri adjusting himself, and then... there are fingers folding gently around his throat.
Dimitri's hand fits so easily like this... Claude's cock twitches. Aches. He focuses hazy eyes up at Dimitri as the other man looms over him, lips still spit slick and shiny from where he had been working so diligently down below on Claude. "Hush," Dimitri murmurs, shades of black mixing in with that adoring look of his. "You're going to get attention like this, Claude... You don't want that, do you?"
And his grasp tightens, just enough to make it harder for him to take in air. Claude bucks his hips up desperately, nails dragging down against the armrest. "Will you keep me quiet?" he gurgles, smiling up at his lover while his head lolls in that strong grip.
Claude can't refuse any of Dimitri's demands. Dimitri can't refuse any of Claude's requests. His fellow king leans down, still holding him by the throat, and slots their lips together as though there was never any possibility of otherwise.
Every single one of Dimitri's kisses are perfect: the soft ones full of worship like Claude is the only person in the universe, those wild rough kisses that flash hints of teeth, the quick kisses they exchange in empty hallways and moonlit gardens with no one's eyes on them. This is one of those demanding kisses, domineering, but not wild, and Claude moves his hands from the couch, from Dimitri's hair, to desperately grip at his lover's shoulders. Dimitri's hand... That stays right where it is, tightening bit by bit, a steel vice.
Tears prick at his eyes. His heart flutters in his chest, even though he knows he's not in any danger. His lungs begin to burn. Claude relishes in the feeling, no matter how close to danger it is, no matter how much his body yells at him. He writhes underneath Dimitri, under the palm of his hand. Is he tearing at those fine royal blue clothes of his? Claude has no idea, and doesn't care. All he cares about is the heat of Dimitri's mouth, stealing all the air from his mouth that his lungs are desperately trying to keep. Steals, and blocks, and stops... until there's nothing left, Claude's lips gaping helplessly as he tries to draw breath.
It shouldn't get him off, it really shouldn't. It does anyway, arousal straining in the warm air of the little library nook with nothing to show for it. The darkness that is creeping at the edge of his vision, the haze of his mind, Dimitri still so close... And it all comes rushing back to him, literally, as Dimitri's fingers loosen around his neck. Claude blinks tears from his eyes, throat ragged as he gasps in air again and again.
The relief lasts only a short moment. Dimitri's fingers don't close in again, but his lips do, a deep kiss that robs Claude of every little breath he's managed to make. He doesn't mind, far from it. Spreading his legs wide, he hauls himself closer to Dimitri with trembling hands. Like this, as their kiss deepens with saliva starting to crawl from the corners of his mouth, Claude can almost feel himself graze Dimitri. It's just the tip of his cock, traces of his arousal smearing against that fine silky fabric...
Before Claude can rut against it, tumble into a selfish and shameless pursuit of pleasure, Dimitri's grip forces him down against the couch again. Keeping Claude utterly in place with a single hand alone, Dimitri drags his tongue along his lips. Even if he can't taste one of many results of their passion... He seems to savor it regardless, just like he savors the way Claude looks pinned in place. "You're going to make us filthy, Claude," he says, same soft and heavy voice as he's been using almost this entire time.
"Not as filthy as I want us to be," Claude says, the words a playful rasp dragging out of his throat. The same throat that Dimitri is still holding so neatly. Claude wonders if he'll leave behind bruises, if he'll have to wear a scarf for this latest visit into Fhirdiad. His lips quirk up in a grin. "Do you have anything prepared for this, Mitya...?"
And that's when the spell breaks. No longer is Dimitri the imposing and aggressive beast above him. Instead, he blinks, and his one eye looks so caught off guard with his lips parted in slow realization. Then the embarrassed blush follows shortly after, turning his skin an adorable crimson. "I forgot the oil in my room," he whispers, mortified. "I was going to whisk you there after dinner, but I became an utter animal. Claude, I am so sorry."
Gods, he loves Dimitri so much, and Claude bursts out laughing, only to fall into a fit of coughing. With the state his throat is in, it needs far gentler treatment than that. That sends Dimitri immediately into a frenzy. Before Claude knows it, he's being tugged upright against the couch, all their clothing is being gathered up to be awkwardly folded and shoved aside, and Dimitri is hovering over by the table they were eating at only a few moments beforehand.
Another soft distressed noise. "Oh no, the ice cream is melting-! Claude, stop laughing, you're going to hurt your throat more."
How is he supposed to stop, exactly? Head lolling against the couch, Claude closes his eyes with a wide grin. "The ice cream will be fine if you give it to me like it is, Dimitri. It probably hasn't melted too badly after so short a time, although your fingers earlier probably didn't help."
Dimitri wears bald-faced shame like a champ, bowl of ice cream cradled gently in both his hands as he returns to Claude. At least he doesn't apologize again, tempting though it must no doubt be. Dimitri feels as though he needs to apologize for his continued existence sometimes; that he's holding back is a good sign of progress in Claude's book. It's a good sign of how stable he is. "Here, have this. The cold and liquid should help your throat, I would think."
It probably will, honestly, and Claude accepts the bowl gladly... although not before he winks up at Dimitri. "I hear nice hot cream straight from the source helps a sore throat too..." All Dimitri does is give him a flat look, and Claude laughs again before he hastily gets a scoop of ice cream to eat. He can't be too naughty, after all. He is wondering just what they'll do about the little problem still firm between his legs...
And that's a question that soon gets an immediate answer as, instead of retrieving his own bowl, Dimitri sinks down onto his knees. When Claude bursts out laughing again, almost choking on his latest spoonful, Dimitri pouts. "I - it would be rude to have gotten you so worked up, and then leave you with such a problem! Just - eat your ice cream and I will help - soothe this."
Soothe this. He's going to soothe Claude's hard and aroused cock. His heart swells, mostly with laughter, but with a little warm fondness too. Dimitri is the only one who puts things this way, who only slips into the really filthy talk when he's too worked up to hold himself back. Claude never minds it when they get to that point... but there's something sweet about this, too. Sweet enough to match the ice cream he lets sink onto his tongue again. Wiggling into place, Claude smiles around his spoon down at Dimitri.
"Just try not to be so good that I choke on my spoon," he tells Dimitri playfully, allowing his legs to be moved and adjusted until they're slung over Dimitri's broad shoulders.
"Oh, I would never say I'm that good," Dimitri demures, pressing a kiss against the inside of Claude's thigh.
As he sinks another spoonful of sweetness past his lips, Claude watches Dimitri sink down onto something he seems to find just as delicious. A low moan rumbles through the back of his throat. "I would say you're far better," he murmurs, and feels the way Dimitri smiles around his cock.
They don't sneak away to Dimitri's room until much later.... and only after Claude is able to return the favor.