Chapter 0 - undressing

Byleth is an adult, and has been capable of taking care of herself for a long time. Longer than she’s been an adult, even, but that’s a given, with the way she has been raised. His Byleth is strong and capable, but still, Jeralt finds himself wanting to take care of her from time to time, because no matter what, she will always be his little girl, and nothing is going to change that. Not even the fact that they have crossed the line far beyond a relationship between father and daughter- or perhaps that only makes him want to take care of her even more.

Jeralt always does what he can to take care of those that he loves.

Tonight, a rare night where they have no one to interrupt them, no chance of being caught and as much time as they can take for themselves to enjoy that fact, he finds himself overcome with the need to care for her. He thinks it’s because she has looked a little tired lately, something that he’s sure only he can tell, and a rare look on her either way. Byleth does not much express herself outwardly, and when she does, the signs are very small, and they are signs that only her father has learned to pick up on, due to their closeness and probably her willingness to only let him in.

It has only been since she began expressing her attraction to him, anyway. Before that, she was simply unreadable and beautiful, and he was a monster for looking at her like a curiosity or looking at her like a beautiful stranger, when she was his daughter then as much as she is now. He’s still a monster now, for how far he has let this go, but sometimes, when he remembers that Byleth only lets him in now, because they are lovers, he feels a bit less like a monster, and sometimes, feels as though she might be the one in control.

At the very least, he knows that he would do anything for her, and if she were to request that they stop, then that would be all he needed to hear. But that is not what happens tonight, because tonight she seems a little tired, and tonight he wants to make sure that his little girl is well taken care of. He feels oddly tender, and when they have settled in for the night, he sets to undressing her.

Typically, if one of them tries to undress the other, it is frantic, because they’re so overcome with lust that they don’t have the patience to wait for the other to start, but once they realize the inefficiency of this, they return to undressing themselves, just to make sure that it is done as quickly as possible, so that there is nothing left to separate the two of them. Tonight, it is nothing like that, because efficiency doesn’t matter to him at all.

In fact, he would say that it doesn’t even matter if they fuck tonight at all, but he knows that that is where this is going to end no matter how pure his intentions are going into this. It’s far better to simply say that he doesn’t care if it takes a while to get to that point, because right now, he is taking care of her, and tending to needs other than her carnal ones. Just as a father should, he thinks, as he begins to help her out of her clothes, slowly and gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I can do it,” she says in a quiet voice, but she doesn’t try to squirm away or do anything to indicate that she is made uncomfortable by this attention. She lets him continue, not even seeming impatient at the slow pace he takes, which further confirms his suspicion that she is feeling tired. If she were more energetic, she might have him pinned by now, her face blank as ever even as she began to have her way with him. Byleth is such an enigma that it is no small wonder that he is able to understand her at all.

“I know you can, baby,” he murmurs, “but how about you just let me do it for you? Let your dad take care of you for a little while, hm?”

“Alright,” she replies, visibly relaxing under his touch now that she has fully agreed to this. Earlier today, he watched those arms as she swung her sword with expert precision. Those same arms that hang limp at her sides now were used to kill man after man, as they charged another hired group. She never questions what side they are on, never questions if they are in the right or in the wrong; she swings her sword and she does her work, and she is pleased if she is able to settle in for the night with her father.

She is pleased as long as they are together. For all her complexities, for how difficult she is to understand, there is only one thing that he knows for sure, and that is that she loves him, and that she loves him so much that he fills every role in her life. He is her father and her protector, her closest friend and her lover, and though this may be because he is all she truly has, he likes to think that he knows her well enough to know that she would not choose any other life.

So he takes care of her, because he is everything to her, helping her out of her shorts, out of her tights, stripping her down slowly so that she can be more comfortable. She is so beautiful that he can hardly stand to look at her sometimes; she looks so much like her mother that he has a hard time looking away, but when he looks at her, he only sees the passing resemblance that reminds him that she is the result of his first love. The two of them are not the same, but it only makes sense to him that his second love would have resulted from the first.

It makes sense to him, but he also knows that it makes no real sense at all, and that he is nothing short of a monster for feeling this way to begin with. That sort of thing never matters in the moment, anyway, and how could he hope to dwell on the taboo of it all when he has someone as beautiful as Byleth standing before him? He wants to say that he would dare anyone to not be swept away by her mere appearance, but then he would have to think about other men looking at her, and that would just make him preemptively angry.

The men in his company think that he is just an overprotective father. If only they knew just how far his love really went!
Now that he has her entirely undressed, he doesn’t much care about stripping himself. It seems like a waste of time, and he would undress first but then it would feel strange in a way that he can’t quite describe. This is beyond the point where he can try to make sense of it, and he knows that losing himself in his thoughts is no real excuse to keep her waiting.

For as quiet and as composed and as patient as his daughter is, he knows that he is the only one she allows herself to be impatient for. She was never much of a child, at least not in behavior, but now, she can allow herself to be a little bratty, and a little demanding, because she knows that her father is going to take care of her. Strange that it took them crossing this line for that to occur, but they are both far past the point of complaining about it.

He decides not to bother with himself, spending all his time on her instead. Jeralt kisses her, pulling her close to him and letting his hands wander, moving in time with each whimper that he manages to draw out from her. Byleth moans as he pulls his mouth back from hers and begins to lower himself, pulling her with him so that they can sit back, with her on his lap.

Now that he can properly hold her, he can really let his hands roam, over every inch of her freshly exposed skin. By now, he should be used to seeing her like this, but he hasn’t gotten used to it yet, and is beginning to doubt that he ever well. It was the same way before, and he supposes that is just how he is, or maybe that’s just how they are, with that quality to them that no one can explain. Or, at the very least, he can’t explain it, but he’s getting too lost in his own thoughts again.

Byleth is quiet, save for her soft moans, as he kisses over her skin, down the side of her neck and then down the front of her, kisses along her chest, leaning down so he can trail his lips across her stomach. He moves back up to linger on each of her nipples, spending a fair amount of time on each, until she is breathless with impatience, still not putting any of it to words, but still managing to communicate it to him perfectly, in the way she shifts and almost looks as though she might be on the verge of pouting, when he looks up at her while sucking delicately.

If she’s getting too impatient, then he knows just the trick, pulling back again so that he can move once more. Byleth only looks confused for the moment after he stops, catching onto his intentions as soon as he shifts to lay back, holding onto her to keep her steady as he pulls her down with him. Soon enough, he is laying down completely, so that he can pull Byleth over his face, keeping a gentle hold on her hips all the while.

She comes to rest just above his lips, and he leans up the rest of the way to meet her there, wasting no time in pressing his tongue inside of her, eager to hear the way she cries out for him. Even if she were to try to keep up her stoic face, when he takes care of her like this, she never stands a chance, and his only complaint about doing this for her is that he can’t properly see her each and every reaction. But he can still hear her, as she gives in to the moans and the whimpers, as she no longer bothers to hide those reactions, and that is enough for him.

After all, he’s seen her face as it shifts and contorts in pleasure enough times to imagine it, vivid in his mind as he closes his eyes, and if it changes a bit, if it distorts a little until it is not quite Byleth in his fantasies, he can quickly return to his thoughts to his daughter. The trouble with memories is that they can blend into one another in whatever way they choose, but Jeralt does not let that bother him. Regardless of what- or who - is on his mind, that doesn’t change that he is with Byleth in the moment, and that he loves her.

He loves her so much that he can hardly stand it sometimes, and that is why he has let himself sink so low as to cross these boundaries with her. She is more than just his child, and if that makes him a monster, then so be it. He is happy now, and so is she, and what a miracle it is to be able to make someone like Byleth so happy that he can easily tell.

What a miracle it is to be able to make someone like Byleth cry out for him, writhing on top of him as he eats her out, trembling and losing all control in the moment that she comes. To be able to do something like that for her, one would have to have a special bond with her. It seems only right that that is reserved for her father. 

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