Chapter Text
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“Why did you even do that?”
“Not even a thank you? Gee, thanks Bettel, you’re the best,” Bettel sighs, holding on to his side, as if it helps with the pain.
Why he even felt the need to protect Shinri, he’s not quite sure. Sometimes he feels like his body moves on autopilot, especially when it comes to Tempus. Even worse with Vanguard, ever since he was given the task to bring them home.
In a way, they’re his responsibility. But of all people in the guild, Shinri was the one that didn’t need saving. Of course he knew this.
They found an abandoned shed on their way back to the headquarters. Bettel sits on the table as he waits for the pain to subside. He is in complete disarray; his hat is gone, his outer garb in tatters. He shrugs it off and winces as he does so.
“I had it under control,” Shinri says, moving closer now. He’s in bad shape himself, but it doesn’t seem like he’s in as much pain as he is. Bettel looks elsewhere, aware that he is pouting. He’s too tired to dismiss it as some kind of joke, and there’s levels to his reaction right now that he isn’t comfortable indulging, so he just sulks.
“If I was a nuisance, I apologize, but I’m not going to apologize for trying to save you,” Bettel says. He hears Shinri sigh.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant,” Shinri says. “I just…”
Bettel looks up. Shinri looks guilty, standing a few feet away. He has never seen him look that small.
Maybe his honesty was too much.
“I got worried. I shouldn’t be; your skill with the whip is great, I don’t know why I—” Shinri breathes out, bracing himself. “Thank you. For saving me.”
It helps lift his mood.
“You did great timing the Records Corruption’s attack; a second more and you would have lost a limb.”
Bettel laughs weakly. “I mean, almost! Look at me.”
“Bettel, I mean it,” the ronin says seriously, and the jester finds himself unable to tear away from his gaze. “You did so well.”
Something snaps in Bettel. He suddenly turns red in the face, blush spreading to his chest and ears, and he covers his mouth, unable to look Shinri in the eye. “Hang on…” he mumbles, panicking on his seat.
The best part about Shinri is how keen he is in social interactions. The man is well-adjusted, a forever gentleman. He knows when and where to interact, and if there’s a need to.
The worst part about Shinri? He has no filter when he’s tired.
“You like it when I praise you,” Shinri realizes out loud, blinking slowly, as if it would help process the information. Bettel laughs nervously at him, as if he isn’t dying in embarrassment, but it dies down when the ronin finds his place in between his legs, hands at his knees, spreading them apart wide.
Suddenly, sitting on the table seems like a stupid idea. He’s stuck there, thighs bared for everyone and God to see, wounded and bruised. And not even in the good way; he had to be self-righteous and try to protect an experienced archer from a foreign land.
“Um. Yes. It’s pretty dumb, even for me, you know how it is, ahaha…” Bettel says. The pain on his abdomen suddenly spikes; he writhes in pain. “Oh, god. How do you guys do this on the daily?”
“We usually try to soften the blow,” Shinri says. Bettel could swear he could hear Shinri’s amusement through the statement; he couldn’t bring himself to look at the ronin, and his hands seem like a very interesting sight instead. “Bettel, we got to get you to a healer.”
“We don’t have one,” Bettel reminds him. “I mean, Vesper doesn’t count; that man just has extra knowledge from doomsday prepping.” His entire body hurts from the fatigue.
Shinri laughs at him fondly. Now his stomach hurts. “You won’t last like this.”
God, he knows; he’s somehow tired and horny at the same time. Shinri’s hands found their way to the bare area between his shorts and boots, rubbing at the inside of his thighs, kneading at the flesh that dips inwards to his crotch. “What the fuck are you even doing…”
“Helping you relax,” Shinri answers, as if nothing is out of the norm. “Feeling good?”
Bettel tries to lie. “No,” He breathes out, just an inch away from a moan. He bites his lip immediately.
“Look at me?” Shinri asks. He sighs and looks up, only to see the ronin red at the face. “This is not how I thought things would go, honestly.”
Bettel tries to process it in between the pain. “You thought about it?”
“Once or twice, when I feel like I deserved it,” Shinri mumbles, then pauses. “Okay, what is it, exactly? Just so we’re on the same page.”
Bettel tries to find the words. His brain goes with, “Just me at your beck and call, mewling like a kitten?”
“Well, you’ve always been so good,” Shinri smiles. “You try your hardest, and you’re one of the people I fully trust in the guild.” The ronin rests his head on his shoulder and breathes in deep. “You’re in pain. I should bring you to a healer.”
“Shinri, do you get stupid when you’re flustered?” Bettel asks. Shinri wheezes in response, lifting his head up again.
“Yes, that’s probably the case. Do you need me to carry you?”
“You might see my boner,” Bettel says in a panic. “I mean, please don’t look at my— oh my god…” He covers his face with his hands, makeup be damned. “Yes please, carry me please. My everything hurts.”
With one fell swoop, the archer scoops his legs and supports his back with his strong arms, as if Bettel weighs close to nothing. He truly feels pathetic like this, even more so when Shinri chuckles at him in that handsome voice of his. “You good?”
“You’re lucky your voice sounds like actual fucking sex, Shinri, or else I would have punched you with my noodle arms.”
He knows the threat is kitten-like at best, but he revels in Shinri’s dulcet chuckling and figures that’s at least a win for him.
The healer manages to bandage him up nicely, and even gives him some salves for the bruising. Given that he is half awake when given the instructions on how to use it, he relies on Shinri for most of the information.
“So this,” Shinri raises a small bottle in view. “Is for mornings; it’s oil to soothe the pain. There’s a certain number of drops you can only use, so make sure you—”
“Shinri, no offense, but do you know who you’re talking to,” Bettel says. Shinri answers with a soft laugh. “Hey, that wasn’t supposed to be funny…”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Shinri says, not apologetic in the slightest. “Should I just help you with it?”
Bettel nods.
“I’ll have to touch you, though.”
Bettel does not see the down side of his statement. “Is that such a bad thing? Am I gross? I’m not stinky, am I?”
Shinri takes a second, chuckling before saying, “You forgot already.”
He blushes a soft pink. There is a phantom grip at his thigh that has been his wank material ever since it happened, so forgetting is out of the question. “You marked me though,” Bettel says, showing one of his thighs. A mark blossoms where Shinri has touched him before. “I don’t think you’d let me forget, even if I tried.”
Nothing could ever prepare him to that smirk, naughty with promise. “Such a good boy for me, huh?” Bettel tries to let the whine dissipate, but a soft whimper makes itself known and he presses his legs together, already sporting a half chub. “I’ll help, but only if you know that I have ulterior motives.”
Bettel nods again. As a reward, Shinri cups his cheek and rests his thumb at his lower lip, tracing at it softly. He can feel the years of his training, calloused fingertips caressing him in the contrast of his skill, all tenderness and endearment. He does not stop himself from leaning into the touch and kissing the pad of Shinri’s thumb, eyes fluttering close to just feel.
Eventually, he relies on Shinri to take care of his wounds.
He expects (nay, hope even) for things to escalate, but Shinri, the sweet guy that he is, only keeps his touches strictly medicinal, and doesn’t linger a second too long for him to hope.
It does give him time to stay alone with his thoughts, which has never been a good thing for someone who overthinks like him. They are mostly about how he wants, always in short bursts, but it is constant and undeniable.
Shinri is kind enough to pull him from them and invites him to watch a movie. Given that he has better movie tastes, they end up in Bettel’s room, snacks at the ready.
However, when they’re sitting together like this, Bettel can see the difference in their… everything.
It even gets worse when Shinri absentmindedly rests a hand on his thigh in the middle of the movie. Bettel tries to ignore it and focus on the movie playing, and laughs when the jokes prompt it. Shinri echoes it softly, munching on his chips.
He feels like a pervert, the way he focuses on it so badly. Shinri is built so differently compared to him, all lean muscle against his lanky limbs. He bets he’s huge everywhere, and can easily bend him in half if he wanted to. God, he hopes Shinri wants to, that would be so sexy.
“You good?”
Bettel looks up at Shinri, whose eyes seemed concerned at how distracted he was. “Peachy keen! I’m!” He blinks quickly, looking around to find something worth talking about. Finding nothing, he sighs. “I’m good; just… thinking about something.”
“Wanna talk about it, champ?”
Shinri’s voice sounds like a hug, but only if it was followed by a makeout session. Bettel shakes his head no, flustered at his dumb thoughts.
“You sure? You seem pale,” the ronin says, taking a feel at his cheek. Bettel nuzzles at it unconsciously, and panics when he realizes, but Shinri is suddenly licking at his lips, already looking at him like he’s the meal of the day. “Bettel?” He says out, hesitant.
“I was thinking about how different you are,” the jester mumbles. “To me. I mean, like. Size-wise. I’m.” His back is suddenly against the couch rest with Shinri hovering over him, arms on either of his sides. “Shinri?”
“You’re making this way more difficult than it should be; I’m trying to take my time,” Shinri says. His gaze travels down to his crotch, already tenting at his boxers.
Bettel laughs at that, as if he’s not being unraveled with a bare look. “Impossible, you are absolutely disgusting. Degenerate, even.”
Shinri grins, all teeth. Bettel wants those teeth all over him, marking him for everyone. “You like it.”
“What’s with you wanting me to admit all these things, huh?” Bettel asks, amused.
“It’s sexy,” Shinri answers. “I like it.”
“Me? Sexy?” Bettel snorts in disbelief. “Damn, Shinri, what’s it like being fucking wrong? ”
Shinri laughs. “You’d be surprised.”
Bettel wishes he was; who’d be so hot for all lank and no muscle. He’s a fucking mess. “I’m not sexy.”
He is not ready when Shinri grabs his wrist and guides his hand on his own crotch, already so hard. With Bettel’s hand, Shinri frees his cock in the open and grins. “Help me?”
It’s even worse now. Shinri is decent in length but girthier in the right places, cut and veiny in arousal. Bettel thumbs at its head, precum sticky at his finger. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Just like that,” Shinri instructs, a hand over Bettel’s own as they slide down the length. “Slowly; I don’t like to rush.” He likes being told what to do, especially when Shinri follows it up with quick little affirmations. “So good,” the ronin breathes out after the rigorous pumping, grinning wide. “Look at how hard you make me. God, Bettel—”
He imagines how Shinri would have touched himself like this in his own time, maybe because of him. He blushes even further.
“Look at you,” Shinri chuckles, straining at their little tryst. “How far does your blush go?”
“I. Um. I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
“Shinri,” Bettel whined. Shinri’s dick in his hand is hot and heavy, already pulsing to his touch. He bites his lip. “What are we—”
“Bettel,” Shinri grunts out. He’s close, the jester could tell. “Let me fuck you.”
He meets his gaze then. He is surprised when he nods wordlessly, as if his body already anticipates the promise of pleasure from here on out. With a low growl and moan, Shinri cums all over Bettel’s shirt and face, hitting him on the corner of his mouth.
Bettel licks at it and smiles.
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