Byleth's Dance Class

Byleth stepped into Bernadetta’s room, fully intent on hearing Edelgard out, but the moment she stepped over the threshold, her senses, honed by years on the battlefield, clearly picked up on the music coming from the next room.

All her life, Byleth had followed orders. Defend that merchant, kill those bandits, hold this point and so on. Jeralt had said she’d had a choice, but as Byleth had viewed Rhea as the only viable employer around, even her appointment as a professor was an order. Byleth had no emotions for things, no desire; even the rush of battle was but a fleeting feeling that barely moved her. The first beat of the music carried orders too, but it also carried a feeling which it planted in her and was quickly blossoming.

Byleth recognized both the orders and feelings as foreign, but the feelings were so new and intense that she was quickly being overwhelmed. She could hear a voice, rising in volume, in the back of her mind telling her to stop and go back, but it felt like the music simply got louder in response. Byleth had the impression that music had butt-slammed the voice out of the way.

(Buh-bye, baby! Byleth’s booty is joining the bounce house!) She could almost hear her own voice say in a bubbly, melodic titter.

With the sudden change, Byleth’s mind raced, trying to reconcile the music’s orders with her previous orders to avoid contradictions. As the music bubbled inside her, she focused for a second on the two girls before her, bringing the fact that she was a teacher to the forefront of her mind. She had to keep that in mind; she was a professor with a responsibility towards her students.

Byleth stood before the two girls and started gently rocking her hips to the music. She didn’t know any moves that would go with the sound, but rather entrusted her body movement to it. Byleth’s hands moved over her thighs to her pelvis, her fingers brushed her stomach and up to her chest as she swayed to the music.

“P-professor, what are you doing?” Edelgard watched on in shock. She and Bernadetta had shifted their positions to be on their knees on Bernadetta’s bed, back to back, shimmying and bumping butts to the beat. Edelgard struggled with her burgeoning emotions, growing increasingly flustered by Byleth’s dance and fighting off a vague sense of annoyance that she was losing to Bernadetta in some way.

“I’m your professor.” Byleth responded in a neutral tone, though Edelgard would have sworn that her voice had a more breathy, husky quality to it. Byleth rolled her hips in a slow, more exaggerated way to match the slowing tempo of the music. “I can teach you the proper form.”

On those words, Bernadetta and Edelgard moved in sync to sit on their knees on the bed, facing Byleth. They shook and swayed to the music, but didn’t move from their sitting postures with the hands on their thighs, their gaze entrapped by Byleth’s moves. Byleth had her arms behind her head, her eyes closed with a serene expression as she rolled her hips, showing off how each part of her body was moving for the two girls. Despite being fully clothed, the motion of her hips combined with how her clothes hugged her body and the slight hint of skin somehow made her all the more enticing. She turned to the side, showing off her flexible movement. She looked over at her two students with half-closed eyes and motioned for Bernadetta.

“Oh? Is it Bernie’s time to shine?” Bernadetta practically leapt off the bed and stumbled clumsily into Byleth’s arms.

Edlegard felt a pang of disappointment that Byleth hadn’t chosen her, a flash of jealousy that Byleth had wanted Bernadetta and internally raged that these feelings weren’t really hers. She grit her teeth and swallowed back the lewd encouragement that she was sure had been building in her throat.

Bernadetta should have been terrified being so close, body to body with someone else. She had actually attempted to bolt a couple of times already, but the urge had been drowned out by the music coming from next door. She felt comfortable and safe, moving to the music, the professor’s hands moving to her hips, stomach and butt guiding her swaying.

“That’s good, just like that.” the professor’s breathy voice drifted into Bernadetta’s ear. Bernadetta shook with delight at the compliment.

Bernadetta was becoming increasingly intoxicated by the professor’s scent, her mind and thoughts becoming increasingly airy even as the heavy beat of the music pulsed through her body. How sweet the professor’s scent was, tumbled around in Bernadetta’s mind.

Some carnivorous plants have sweet scents too. It’s so they can attract food. A thought that floated up in Bernadetta’s mind. I wish I were a carnivorous plant with a sweet smell… (Then all the snacks would come to Bernie! Num num!)

Bernadetta had frequently wished for things like this so that she could remain in hiding, but the feelings that came with the afterthought caused her face to flush with heat. She wished very much to remain warm and safe in the professor’s hands, enveloped in her scent.

Edelgard squirmed and shimmied in place wrestling with various feelings. She was jealous that her (darling) professor was paying so much attention to Bernadetta, the music compelled her to get up and shake her body to the beat but her professor was teaching so she had to pay attention. And internally she screamed at this ludicrous situation and those false feelings. Edelgard cupped her breasts and started rolling her hips as best she could from her sitting position, in imitation of the moves her professor had been doing before.

This was all that accursed music’s fault. She was the (booty queen) future empress of the Adrestian empire, not some (naughty schoolgirl) afraid of (hungering for) punishment from her teacher. And surely her Crest also had some influence here, she was certain. The crest was responsible for her attraction to the professor she hypothesised, so why would it not also be responsible for these lewd desires focused on the professor. Edelgard was not (hawt for teacher) and she most certainly did not want her head squeezed between the professor’s (juicy thicc) thighs.