Work Text:
Banzoin Hakka considers himself a relatively strong-willed person. A gentle person even, with significant restraint, refined by the burdens of his past, the tengu, and even the resulting mild corruption. However, the situation he's found himself in now is honestly straining at his limits.
"You be a good boy this time, okay? You drink your water!"
"Ah... o-of course," Bettel gasped out between heavy breaths, compliantly letting himself get maneuvered down onto the mattress and yelping as the sensitive skin of his back hit the sheets.
Hakka leans over him, unwrapping his friend's scarf hastily while trying not to let his eyes roam up and down his figure hungrily - but oh lord, was Betsy a sight for sore eyes.
His skin, usually so pale as to be ghostly, now flushed a gentle pink. His uniquely mismatched eyes, normally so vibrant, were almost pure black where the pupils were blown so wide.
He needed to be slow and gentle, so he tilted his face down and pressed a light kiss to Bettel's forehead, making sure to exude his most calming scent. He tried to make sure everything about him urged that he was safe and trustworthy, that he was not a threat. His lips barely brushed against him, but it made the older male whine in that high pitched, pathetic-cute kinda way that he couldn't resist.
Hakka could almost feel the heat growing inside Bettel, and he wanted to kiss him properly - to cup his cheek and lock their lips together... but he knew that was something he would hate himself for. To take advantage of a heat like that... it would be unforgivable. He knew he was immensely privileged to be considered so trustworthy in the first place.
As he helped dear Betsy get more comfortable and worked to remove his heeled boots from long, sweat-slick thighs (Oh Gods above Hakka, you can do this! Just DON'T STARE) the door to the room swung open and through it marched Flayon, his arms full of... ah. Hakka's face flushed even further.
"Hey Hakka! Thanks for getting him comfortable," the redhead greeted as he placed the bundle of items on the edge of the bed, sorting through them carefully. Bottled water, towels, tissues, a small bottle of lube, and an open box with some barely concealed 'toys'.
"I can take over from here, you've gotta be pretty uncomfortable at this point, right?"
The pilot had an undertone he wasn't sure he liked. Flayon could be very perceptive when he wanted to be. He wondered if Flayon knew he was daydreaming about biting Bettel's neck the entire time.
Hakka lookes back down at him. He's so out of it, his mismatched eyes glazed over and clutching the pillow in his arms like a lifeline. Flayon pauses his fussing with the towels and reaches over, brushing some of his hair out of his face. As if activated by it, Bettel's eyes seem to regain focus and he nuzzles into the touch, humming happily.
He hadn't... made any such content sounds with Hakka.
Feeling a pathetic kind of emptiness run over him like a bucket of water, he turns to leave. He doesn't need to say anything else; needn't risk his heart exiting his throat. But even still, he stammers out a goodbye before exiting in a hurry.