A/N: Contains spoilers if you have not played Seteth/Flayn's paralogue.

Whenever Seteth kisses Byleth, the world stops around him as though the goddess herself intervenes just for him. Just so he can have the pleasure of savoring the taste of her lips that much longer.

The first time he kissed her was an absolute accident. At the time, he was in the midst of scolding her. About what isn't nearly so important-the main issue was that she was just so frustratingly irresponsible and undeserving of the position of "professor" that he felt he had no choice but to advise her into the... the right direction.

No matter. On that particular day when he called her into his office for a common reprimand, somehow her silent acceptance of his critique was so maddening that he just couldn't help but continue. He'd been scolding her in a heated whisper, face-as close as possible so that the students would not overhear and rumors would not be spread. A rather benign, almost weekly activity.

He'd expected, perhaps even wanted, her to react, to say something in reply... but as usual, Byleth had only faced him with simple, sparse replies and her usual flat, cool eyes no matter what he said. It was on this particular day, somewhere in the interim, that somehow still her mouth ended up pressed against his.

And thus time stopped for the first time for him.

,,,Not only that, but Byleth managed to completely shut him up, and by the time she left, he had no clue what he'd called her into the office for in the first place. His only memory of that house-nay, that day-is the gentle surprise of Byleth's soft mouth against the side of his own, and then a second, less surprising meeting of her cool lips, this time aligned with his.

What a first. It is only natural, he likes to think, that a second time would follow. It is perhaps unintended, but that first taste has left an insatiable craving, a curiosity that could not be scratched. Not unlike the one that has him craving to know why exactly Rhea is so accepting, so trusting of this stranger.

Now, as she sits in the corner of his office, Byleth watches him with the calculating eyes of a cat. They follow him as he tries his best to ignore her for the moment. Before he indulges in... in such a thing, he ought to finish these documents. Rhea would need them in two day's time and... and...

He stands and shuts his door. His voice is tight and low with restraint.

'We cannot continue these... trysts' ...is what he should say, but instead, he faces the door for a long moment before whipping his head around to pierce her with his gaze.

"I..." His voice falters with what he should say, then strengthens with what he should not. "I only have a few minutes."

"I know."

He hates the tone of self-assurance in her reply that contrasts so much with the uncertainty that fills him from head to toe. Byleth crosses his office as though it's a battlefield.

In some ways, to her, perhaps it is.

He wants to ask why, but if he does, there are so many more questions that need answers, some that he doesn't have the nerve to ask.

What would Flayn think of him if she saw him now, surrendering completely as he leaned in for a frustratingly addicting, frustratingly irresistible kiss?

It is almost certain that she would think less of him if she saw how weak he was to his physical desire for Byleth's touch. He could chalk it up to simply missing his wife, but the reality is that since her death, Flayn has become such a priority that aside from caring for his duties with Rhea, he could hardly fit much else into his heart.

Or so he thought.

What a hypocrite he is, to scold lady Rhea and yet find himself nose to nose with the very person he's warned her against trusting so severely-

His racing thoughts still with the cool touch of Byleth's lips stroking his lightly. A test, to see if he's paying attention. He isn't, and so he fails, Byleth leaning away with a mildly curious expression on her face. He is, after all, the one who stated that he had obligations...

He shakes his head dismissively to let her know it's nothing, and when she leans in a second time, his eyes flutter shut reflexively. Instead of touching against his mouth, he feels the completely unexpected sensation of a hand slowly, evenly slipping through the silky length of his hair.

Before he can react, a second hand slips up the base of his neck, fingers moving in stirring circles along his scalp.

Seteth finds himself stilling completely, just to enjoy Byleth's gentle touch. He isn't sure what this is or if he should be enjoying it as much as he does, but... he shuffles just a bit closer to give her access she needs to disarm him totally. He can't help the long, deep sigh that slips from his lips, or its reluctant but irresistible follow up of a satisfied release of breath... but a thought crosses his mind with no hesitation at all.

A hypocrite, Seteth. That you are indeed.

When her fingers pause in motion, he opens his eyes in protest, only to see a mild, telling smile on Byleth's face as if her eyes are asking him, "What will I do with you?" What she actually says is a disappointment.

"It's been a few minutes, Seteth. You have work to do."

Truly a disappointment.

He knows she's correct, and as she drops her hands, he doesn't stop her.

He does, however, take a moment to stop time the only way he knows how to: by pressing his lips flush against hers.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this oneshot, comments are greatly appreciated!