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A skillful thief knows to steal enough to be set for a lifetime. Ban, unfortunately for him, is beyond skillful. He is a master, seasoned by enough hunts to realize the chase is part of the game as much as the prize.
Skillful thieves need to get lucky only once. Ban needs to hit the jackpot night after night, and his only boon is that he has a perfect hunting field. Every night 'The Boar Hat' fills up with customers: Holy Knights of every rank and size that come to get drunk and chat up the Seven Deadly Sins. Ban simply needs to don his skintight red suit or strip down to his apron, and some pathetic loser will be kissing his thighs by the end of the night.
Target's already in place. Howzer has been keeping a table for himself the past few hours, even as the other customers started moving out to other entertainment. Meliodas himself had crashed out in bed, sleep-mumbling about his beautiful Elizabeth, and the hunt is finally open.
Ban drops onto a chair like a bird of prey, his sinewy frame dangling over the green-haired knight, and he pats him on the back just as Howzer has finished chugging another mug of ale. One jolt goes through them, and Ban moans, head tossed back because he can devour him in one bite.
He is a rare taste. The past few nights, he had been hitting the tavern, trying to get Diane's attention on him, and it has left him with quite a beer gut to his name. Ban does not mind snatching muscles night after night, stripping prideful knights of their honored abs and perfect calves, but sometimes he needs to change the menu. Howzer is the perfect change.
The knight flinches back where Ban slapped him, and he turns his flushed face to the hot red Sin. "'xucse me!" he mumbles, and his hand goes to the bag of gold on a belt under his prominent waist. It takes some effort to reach around his swollen orb of a gut. "Overstayed again, didn't I?"
"Don't blame ya," Ban responds in a singsong voice. His hand moves down on Howzer's shoulder, over his bicep, and his fingers ghost him there like a teasing flame. "It's hard to get our lady knight's attention."
Only one bastard managed it, and one day Ban might mercifully slip that to Howzer. But tonight he is a shameless player.
"Though, I might be able to help ya with your problems tonight. Rub your back, you rub mine."
Not the noblest trick in the book, but if it ain't broke, it doesn't need fixing. And - Ban thinks while he has an infatuated knight licking the inside of his legs, muscles fluttering in sync with the guy's thirsty laps - it absolutely works. If Howzer wants someone big and strong to play it hard with him, Ban's got no problem playing the role for the night.
Poor sap does not even feel it when Ban grabs the back of his head and pushes his head lower; just licks again, faster because Ban's muscles bubble up closer to his face, and Ban does not even need to suck his strength away; each thrust of Howzer carries the same jolts, same sparks that inflate his thighs, and then wash over his body.
Ban's got his pants down, but the jacket stays up. He had half a mind to pack all the buttons and let his pecs tear them down once the growth started rolling, but now his babes have all the room to grow. Each time Howzer moans, they spread out like balloons taking in power, and the red leather of his suit is cracking to hold them in. He has to get his knight to play with them, too, later in the night, once his legs are done taking most of the growth. Ban throws his ass back, arching like a snake in heat, and his tits surge out, far enough to be hanging over Howzer's head if not for the shelf of a gut underneath.
Howzer has packed more lard than he would ever admit. Each pound of muscle Ban steals comes with at least two pounds of chub, attached as a bonus to the deal. If he keeps up, Howzer's head will push into Ban's blossoming belly pretty soon, and just the thought makes Ban grip Howzer's shoulders to drink him faster. His biceps lead the show, stretching the red leather so much it can't even be skintight anymore, just a shapeless husk of fabric that will shred with the next motion.
A smirk comes to Ban's face.
"Hey, Howzer," he pulls his head up to let the knight see him; his tongue is still lapping the air, running on instinct, and Ban does not ask his question. Instead, he tugs, and the jacket rips off his back, rips along his sleeves. His upper body is bare, mountainous, and Howzer blinks before jumping on Ban.
He is so light now, and Ban is too heavy - he cannot push him back, but he will try, and Ban savors every little touch that pushes more muscle into his body.