Day 29 - Public Sex - Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Manuela had, perhaps, gone too far in a few places.

She was no stranger to getting into trouble. Part of being a performer - an especially huge part of being one as prominent as she had once been - was stage presence. Not in the literal, performance aspect of it. After all, singing was like anything else in that it was far harder to create than it was to recite. But you couldn’t perform to large venues the way you performed to small ones, and vise-versa. In a grand hall, you could strut about the stage and cast your voice right up to the ceiling. On smaller stages you needed a level of nuance. You needed almost to perform a kind of intimacy. Looking at the audience, but not at any specific member. Each needed to think that they had been personally looked at, spoken to, sang toward. Then, when they came backstage, most of your work had already been done. The connection was imagined if it wasn’t felt.

As a result, she was a rather pathetic, habitual flirt. It was more muscle memory than it was intent. Buttering somebody up or cooling them down were different approaches that wound up looking the same. Laughing a little too loudly here, a brush on the arm there.

You couldn’t do that as a teacher. That got you into tremendous amounts of trouble if you did it to your students. In a way, she was both used to an unequal dynamic of power, but also completely victimized by it. She knew how to be an illusory equal. How to be distant, untouchable, but simultaneously warm and exciting. On the other hand, it was much harder to be stern. Or to be platonic. To love and hate were both easy, emotional experiences. To simply like somebody, to admire them without ulterior motives, it turned out was quite hard.

In that way, having Byleth around was perhaps more of a boon to her than she had expected. And certainly more of one than it had been to Lady Rhea or Hanneman. Byleth was both young and wise. His age placed him in the grey territory between boy and man. Too hot-blooded and eager for her flirting to come across as manipulative, but old enough for it to work without getting her into trouble. He laughed, blushed, changed the subject, or flirted back in a way that others wouldn’t. She was fairly sure - emphasis on the fairly - that he understood it was simply the way she conducted herself.

But she couldn’t stop conducting, that was the problem. Like a sibling trying to provoke another, Hanneman and Rhea could deflate her or discourage her by simply turning the other way. Back when she made the jump from performer to teacher, she got intimately comfortable with her flirting being ignored. As soon as somebody actually responded, as soon as Jeralt’s son responded by trying to one-up her, in his own immature way, it had fed some rotten, insatiable part of her. It almost became involuntary. Perhaps it had simply been too long since somebody paid her proper attention? Perhaps it simply felt like too long since the attention hadn’t felt wholly chaste. Perhaps she also found the kid sorta cute. There were any number of reasons for bad behavior.

She took a nervous sip from the featureless white bottle that the clerk had given her on the way in. The fruity, acrid liquid burned her tongue. Normally, she wasn’t much for sake. Wine was a far nicer, far more constant friend. And she could get it far cheaper at the monastery. But there was a difference of etiquette between carrying around a wine bottle and trying to sneak one into places with you. The clerk ran the springs, she got to dictate the drink. And Manuela had gotten nervous enough, despite herself, that a drink was needed.

Setting the bottle back on the tray that floated beside her in the water, Manuela slunk down a bit more into the water, nearly bringing it up to her chin. She was alone in a small pond of steaming, soapy water, but she didn’t feel alone. Through a thin bamboo screen behind her, she could hear the voices of an elderly man and woman talking casually. From the way they were talking they both were married, but to other people. It was downright scandalous. Through another thin screen in front of her, she could hear a couple of teenage girls chattering. And further on, dozens of other voices that became indistinct. She had some dignity, she wasn’t going to have her meeting in the public springs with several other people there to watch. But that didn’t mean she could suddenly pretend that she hadn’t invited a man half her own age to meet her alone in the springs.

The springs had a reputation, see. They were close enough to the monastery that most people going to one stopped at the other. At the same time, they had a very strict rule against any kind of intimacy in the springs themselves. But that was about as enforced as a rule requiring that the nails in horseshoes be uniform down to the millimeter. You either went to the springs alone, with your friends, or with somebody. Currently, she was alone.

But that was also the million-dollar question. When Byleth showed up, was he going to do so as a friend, or as a ‘somebody?’ Hopefully, considering the age difference (and her increasingly loud second thoughts), he’d sit down and be willing to hear out that she had simply gone a little too far. That inviting him out to the Garreg Mach Springs as a single woman and single man had been a mistake. That they were colleagues, friends and nothing more. They’d laugh it off, they’d tone down the flirting. Everybody would understand.

Considering that she wasn’t having great success convincing herself, she was really starting to get nervous.

Byleth wasn’t exactly some wild animal, what exactly was she afraid of? Afraid that he’d barge in through the door, dive into the spring and start ravaging her? Afraid that she wouldn’t tell him to stop, maybe? Worse, afraid that she was going to wait until the exact moment that he had finished sitting down, then pound and start ravaging him? They were both, perhaps, too hot-blooded for their own good. And she had gotten them into, literally, the single situation that was most likely to turn those tendencies into something regrettable. All of which very strongly contributed to the feeling that she was the one who had been supposed to know better. She had been the one who was supposed to be the bigger person and stop flirting before it turned into renting a private spring.

Oops!

Manuela’s hand shot out of the water and grabbed the sake bottle again, taking another large swig. She couldn’t even decide if she should put a towel on or not. It would be weird to sit in the springs with a wet towel wrapped around her body, but was it worth it to not spend the entire conversation of ‘this is a bad idea’ naked? Would it talk him into wearing his towel too? Why hadn’t she brought a bathing suit? These were all completely reasonable questions, and they were all coming up when she had the time to think better of what she was doing. As the good questions often did.

When the door slid open, her heart nearly lept into her throat. Manuela set one hand around her chest and the other over her crotch as she looked to the door. Byleth ducked in and closed the door, then nodded to her. He shrugged out of his coat and kicked off his shoes, then started to take off the rest of his uniform.

“You certainly know how to keep a girl waiting,” She couldn’t think of any other way to break the ice. It came out teasing. “If we take too long getting out, the overstay fee is coming from your purse, not mine.”

Byleth didn’t even really respond, nodding with a half-smile. She tried to convince herself that it was nerves on his part. That he was suddenly having just as many second thoughts as she was. Whether or not that was true, he kept undressing. As the broad, pale skin of his back slid free from his dark shirt, Manuela blushed and slunk back down into the water slightly. She didn’t stop watching, but she certainly felt appropriately embarrassed about the fact that she hadn’t stopped watching. She was pretty sure that put her in the clear, morally.

She watched his pants come off, grabbing the bottle with both hands and taking a nervous swig. He wasn’t making any effort to cover himself or hide behind a towel. He had long, thin legs, the same pale white as her own - or the moon. As he reached down to pull off his socks, she watched his butt flex, then took another, much larger swig. She nearly gagged on it, clearing her throat demurely to cover her watering eyes. When he had finished undressing, Byleth walked calmly into the center of the spring, dipped his head briefly under the surface, then reemerged and pushed his shaggy dark hair back from his face. He sloshed through the water and settled onto the ledge beside her, leaning back and exhaling slowly, causing his broad chest to rise and then fall. Manuela could feel herself blushing about as badly as was possible, but the heat of the water was also making his skin flush red, so she could probably get away with it. When he looked over at her, he glanced down to where her hands were covering her body.

“Ah,” She looked down herself, then lowered her arms in a way that definitely seemed too casual. “Well, are they everything you’ve been dreaming of?”

There was a dark, secluded hole at the back of the closet in her room. She wanted to curl up there until the moths took her. It had been a pipe dream to think she could suddenly figure out how to stop flirting now, of all times, but she had still hoped.

Byleth looked at her body, clearly eager, but then **** himself to close his eyes and lean back, taking another slow breath. Manuela’s eyes trailed down his taut stomach to his legs. His cock was just… sitting there. Extending out from a patch of dark hair. Resting between his thighs like… well… like a sausage on a dinner plate. There was something so casual, so close to comical about it literally just lying there. It was an inherently funny body part. She couldn’t imagine just having something dangling off of you like that. Squishy and sensitive and, ultimately, horrifyingly fragile for anybody who spent a lot of time in combat. At the same time, looking at it pretty undeniably made her feel other things. But the main thing - almost shockingly - was how little it actually prompted a response. Of course, these things had a tendency to get harder, and as they got harder, they…

He caught her looking. She played it off.

“You’ve got a great body, kid,” She leaned back and sighed, taking a slow breath to mimic him. It was too easy to flirt. “What I wouldn’t give to be your age again.”

“Time has been kind to you,” Byleth responded, just as casual as she was pretending to be.

“That’s sweet, but you haven’t been around long enough to say so,” Manuela cupped her breasts and jiggled them slightly. “I can assure you, these are lower than they used to be.”

“They seem heavy,” Byleth still managed to sound so damn casual, despite the situation. She had to keep telling herself that he was probably just as nervous as she was.

“Are they the first you’ve seen, or are you volunteering to hold them?” She looked him in the eye and he glanced away just slightly. That made her internally sigh in relief. At the same time, she scooted a little closer to him.

“They’re the biggest I’ve seen,” Byleth responded. He still didn’t sound nervous, but he certainly didn’t sound quite so casual.

“Bigger is better, right?” She scooted in again until their arms were nearly touching. If he wanted to, he could easily have put his hand on her far shoulder and pulled her toward him. She would have liked him to. “And here I thought you liked me for my singing.”

“Bigger is…” Byleth swallowed heavily. “Bigger.”

“Oh sure,” She reached out and traced a line along his wiry, defined arm. “Just like big muscles. Not much fun unless you know how to use them, right?”

Byleth flushed enough that she could see it through the heat, and Manuela screamed internally. She was not, in fact, the bigger person. She was not the adult in the room. She was not the voice of reason. What she was going to do was spend a truly excessive amount of time in the church tomorrow begging forgiveness for being the worst kind of person. And the next day, and the day after. It was going to be up to him to stop this, assuming he had any intent or interest in that. Even a ‘maybe’ on his end was going to wind up with both of them getting charged for cleaning the springs. If she had ever intended to actually disarm the situation, that ship had sailed a long time ago.

She reached over and grabbed a small towel from beside the spring and dipped it into the water. Bringing it back up, Manuela reached over and dabbed at an imaginary spot on Byleth’s cheek. He moved to pull away, but she grabbed his face with her other hand gently. Brushing his wet hair with her fingers, she kept dabbing at him.

“Hold still,” She commanded playfully. “If we’re going to take a bath together, we might as well be clean.”

He grabbed both of her wrists with hands substantially more powerful than her own, and for a second Manuela nearly became so feral that she would have needed to be euthanized. Byleth let go of her after a second and she took in a - hopefully not visibly - shaky breath. She could feel a little eager turning deep in her stomach. She turned her back to him and handed him back the cloth.

“Now come on,” She flicked the towel at him and it slapped wetly into his chest. “It’s been ages since somebody washed my back.”

“Washed your back?” Byleth repeated teasingly.

“Yes, washed my back.” Manuela smiled. “That’s what the towel is for, but you could certainly use your hands if you’d prefer.”

Despite being the one suggesting it, Manuela nearly jumped when she felt Byleth’s hands on her shoulders. He squeezed her skin very lightly, in a sort of faux-massage, and rubbed down from her shoulders to between her shoulder blades. The feeling very quickly shifted from surprise to melting. She closed her eyes and let out a little shuddering sigh. As his hands moved lower, they shifted more toward either side. Until his hands were brushing more or less against the sides of her stomach and top of her hips. Her heart was thumping loudly very close to what felt like the top of her throat. With all of her willpower, with every fragment of her mind, she was willing Byleth to be the bigger person. She was begging to any god that would listen for him to realize what they were doing was wrong and that he should stop doing it.

His hands reached around and brushed her stomach very lightly, moving up to the base of her ribcage and against the bottom of her breasts. The movements were slow, as much asking permission as waiting to be turned away. Instantly, the whole of Manuela’s willpower shifted the other way. If he chickened out now, she was going to throw every single object in arm’s reach at his head.

Byleth leaned in and pulled her a little closer, bringing Manuela very nearly into his lap. As he did, his hands came up and closed around her breasts. Manuela shuddered, sighed, and leaned back into him. She could feel the stiffness between his legs, against her butt and up against her back. There wasn’t any song she knew that properly described the way she was aching. She scooted more toward him until his rod was pressed between their bodies. Shifting a little in place against it, she could feel his heartbeat - about as fast as hers - pulsing through it. His hands started to massage her chest, finding her nipples, pinching them, pulling them, and rubbing them in a way that suggested zero percent accident. Whatever his level of experience was, he at least knew, or could sense, that those were his target. The pressure and the itch in her crotch were unbearable. She wanted to just jump up onto him and get it over with. But she also, more than anything, wanted him to be the one taking her. Where it came from didn’t matter. Be it fantasy or plausible deniability.

He leaned forward and buried his face into her neck. Manuela brought a hand down between her legs, but as she did, Byleth shifted his elbows outside of her own and squeezed her arms against her side. She whimpered to him in a way that she hoped was quiet enough to not escape the privacy screens. People were still chattering on either side, but as soon as somebody heard certain unmistakable sounds, the show would take precedence over their conversation. His hold was not so secure or so reaching that she actually wasn’t able to reach her cunt, but she let him make the suggestion. She clenched her hands into fists against his thighs. Leaning her head back, letting his breath - and his teeth - graze the nape of her neck as he kept massaging her chest.

She was getting lightheaded. Manuela opened her lips just enough to breathe through her mouth, then nearly right away a girly, **** whimper came from low in her throat. Her eyes widened and her teeth clenched together. Byleth’s hands moved from her chest, grabbed her own, and lifted them up to cover her mouth. They sat in silence for a moment. The conversations around them seemed to carry on unburdened. Slowly, his hands moved back to her chest, but he gestured for her to keep covering her mouth. She had zero intention of being the talk of the other bathers - particularly when she was seen leaving with a man half her age.

The feeling of pressure and anticipation between her legs was more than she’d thought it would be. Her nipples were tingling, sensitive as she could remember them. Feeling almost raw and overstimulated. Perhaps it had been longer since she was touched than she remembered. Hell, perhaps it had been longer since she’d touched herself than she remembered. Byleth could have probably made her cum just by brushing his fingers against her clit, but he seemed fully intent on making her cum just from this.

Which, a few seconds later, he did. Manuela clamped her hands more tightly over her mouth as her body tightened, quivering against Byleth as he pinched the skin of her neck gently between his teeth. Even as she came, she ached. The hot streaks of ecstasy and jerking bliss punctuated by a needy, neglected feeling between her legs. Her sex **** for something, anything inside of it. The feeling of his hot chest and his breath against her, his pulsing rod between her butt cheeks, only made it worse. In a few seconds, she was going to be faced with the serious choice of making a mess in the spring, or making a scene in it.

As she came shuddering and gasping back down to earth, she could hear the continued chatter of the other bathers. She’d done a good enough job of covering herself that, at least for the time being, nobody was any wiser about the spring having already been ever so slightly soiled. She took a deep breath, brushed a hand between her legs, and shuddered. Masturbating this feeling away probably wasn’t possible any more. If anything, her pussy was throbbing to match the steady pulse of Byleth’s heart through his rod.

Casually, he got up out of the spring and started to towel off.

“What are you doing?” She stood up and hissed at him.

“We’re running out of spring time, aren’t we/?” He said teasingly, tossing her a towel. “Wouldn’t want to pay any overstay fees, would we?”

She quickly followed him into the private room and closed the door behind them. It had seemed like a joke, but - perhaps to goad her - he reached for his underwear.

“Are you messing with me?” She growled, trying to still keep fairly quiet. “You’re going to get me worked up and leave?”

“Well, my teacher’s salary is only so-” Byleth started teasingly, then Manuela grabbed him by the arm and brought him down roughly to the tatami mat with her. He didn’t resist her pouncing.

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