Chapter Text
Bettel realizes, too late, that he's made a big fucking mistake.
It had made perfect sense at the time. Magni had asked Bettel to wear a maid dress and clean his lab, so it would be fair if Magni wore a maid dress and helped Bettel with his laundry, right?
Half of his mistake, Bettel reflects, is all the assumptions he's made. Namely, he'd assumed that Magni knew how to do laundry.
He does not.
Bettel leans against a crate piled high with the guild's dirty clothes, listlessly watching Magni fight for his life. They've been standing around the guild hall's laundry room for hours on hours until his vision blurs and his head swims with the lavender smell of the laundry soap. Normally he'd be happy to be stuck in a small, enclosed space with the alchemist— they've been here plenty of times, panting into each other's mouths, nearly ripping seams to try and get undressed— but it's much less fun when they're trying to do actual work.
With an absurd amount of guidance and help, Magni has at least been able to build a fire, heat water in the massive cauldron, add the right amount of soap, and stir Bettel's dirty clothes around to soak the dirt out. Alone, Bettel could have finished the whole shitshow in a half hour. Getting Magni to pay attention is impossible if there's no sex involved, and since Bettel is not going to reward him for doing nothing, half his clothes have already turned into charred wet rags.
"Don't add more soap! You added plenty earlier! It's gonna spill all over the fire!" Bettel grabs Magni's arm when he tries to dump more lavender bubbles into the cauldron. "When was the last time you did your own fucking laundry?!"
"I don't know! I throw my clothes in with Vesper's and he does it for both of us." Magni tosses the soap bottle aside and pouts his gloss-stained lips, wrapping his arms around Bettel's waist. "I didn't think you actually wanted me to wash your clothes, I'm not dressed for that."
"You're not dressed for anything. You're not fucking dressed. Full stop."
The cauldron interrupts them by hissing and spitting, nearly boiling over onto the stone tiles. Bettel thrashes out of Magni's grip long enough to grab the dipper and throw some water on the leaping flames underneath it, sending steam and sparks hissing up.
"This is why you have to—"
"My apron!" Magni whines. He licks his finger and pinches out a stray spark threatening his "clothes."
"That's your fault." Bettel looks him up and down, too tired to be surprised. Instead of his usual glove cloak and mechanical arms, Magni has on a black satin half-apron the size of Bettel's hand, a pink leather body harness, and a mesh thong that might as well not be there for all it covers. His long legs are wrapped in black lace thigh-highs and peep-toe stiletto heels— as if he needed to be any taller, Bettel thinks irritably. And because Magni doesn't know when to fucking stop when he's gone too far, he's also wearing matching pink leather wrist cuffs, linked to the harness collar by a few feet of thick steel chain.
And that's all. No top, no actual pants, showing a ridiculous amount of pretty skin glistening with sweat, marked here and there with the gold of his mechanical implants.
It makes Bettel's maid dress look like something he could wear to church.
"Where did you even get that?" he demands, pointing at the harness. "Please don't tell me you had it lying around somewhere."
"Give me a fucking break, it's custom-made. I'm the "great" Magni Dezmond, sweetheart. I have to look like it." Magni drapes his lean frame over Bettel's shoulder like a weeping willow, planting rows of sneaky kisses and a trail of rosy lipgloss marks up to his neck. "I'm just trying to give you what you deserve, right?"
His hand sneaks down Bettel's back, dipping below the waistband of his sweatpants. With superhuman effort, Bettel does not rise to the bait. Yes, obviously Magni's hot, and Bettel has eyes to appreciate it, but this is not going to end like last time, as enjoyable as last time was.
He deliberately shakes loose and steps back. "Can you just get the rest of my laundry in the water before I have to put more wood on the fire?"
Frustration flattens out the doe-eyed seduction written all over Magni's face for just a second. Bettel lets himself savor his moment of victory, but Magni switches tactics on a dime. He picks up another well-worn sleeping shirt from the dirty pile, wrinkling his nose. "Why did you wait until you ran out of clothes? This is gross."
Throwing stones from a glass house. "You don't get to say shit about being gross, I've seen how you fucking live."
"Betsy, babygirl, no, no, no, listen. I have a delicately-balanced workspace that may occasionally seem disorganized in the eyes of a certain demon-possessed party clown. This," Magni says, balling up the rest of the clothing and pitching it into the vat of hot water, "is a health hazard."
"Fine. Whatever. You're the maid here. Have fun." Bettel gives up on seeing any of his clothes ever again. He tries to sidle towards the laundry room door, but Magni sees where he's going and snaps his fingers. A rope of charmed purple light wraps around his waist, reeling him back towards the alchemist like a fish on a hook. In seconds, Magni has him pinned against the rough stone bricks, face to face with him. He's wearing a thick floral perfume that mingles with the chemical-mint smell of his breath, making Bettel's head swim and his pulse quicken in several different places.
This is familiar. And dangerous.
"Smooth," Bettel says sarcastically. "Which one of your bad romance animes is that one from?"
"You can't leave me all alone in here!" Magni whines. His wrist chains rattle through the ring on his collar as he pulls at Bettel's shirt like a lonely kitten. "Without my master? You can't abandon me like this, I'll do anything to make you stay—"
"Magni. I am OUT of CLEAN CLOTHES. I do NOT need to get my dick wet." Bettel awkwardly tries to lower his hands, but letting them hang by his sides feels weird and Magni is standing too close for him to cross his arms. Something tells him it'd be okay for him to rest his hands on Magni's slim waist, wrapped very nicely by the harness buckles and at the perfect height for holding, so he does.
Fuck it. It was going to happen anyway.
Magni shudders in his hands, leaning into him with a hungry little sigh. "Master, that door doesn't lock... anyone could walk in and see us..."
"Stop acting like you care about getting seen, it's ruining my immersion." Bettel glances at the laundry room door, just to be safe. The door really doesn't lock, and he does care if they're seen, but Magni's exhibitionist tendencies are well-known and carefully avoided around the rest of the guild. "If someone walks in, they're gonna see you wearing five pieces of string and a collar and run for their lives."
"What if they don't?" Magni's bare leg hooks around Bettel's waist, pressing their bodies even closer together. He's overwhelmingly warm, almost feverish. "I'm just a helpless little maid, you know. Any of them could open that door and have their way with me-"
Bettel's dick, disobedient at the best of times, decides that's worth paying attention to. Goddammit. There's a live fire in the room and he should be watching his clothes to try and salvage what's left, but Magni's mouth is on his neck again, sucking slow, teasing marks into his skin one by one, all softness and perfumed warmth on his aching body.
Whatever. One kiss won't kill either of them. They've spent the last few months fucking in every remote corner of the guild hall anyway. He works a finger beneath the leather harness collar, tugging Magni's face towards his.
And just like that, he's doomed. Again. That drowning feeling of kissing Magni threatens to sweep Bettel under as clever fingers tangle in his hair and slip beneath his sweaty t-shirt, wandering absently across his back and down to his waist. He's not even embarrassed. Magni's tongue brushes his mouth and Bettel lets him deepen the kiss, catching his plush, sugar-glossed lower lip between his teeth.
It's a strangely familiar taste.
"Is that dead magmite flavor?" Bettel croaks.
Magni stops kissing him and gives him a concerned side-eye. "Are you actually this bad at dirty talk? I thought it was a bit this whole time."
"Please answer the fucking question."
"Fine! Some of them fell in the blender while I was trying to mix the gloss. Accidents happen. Move on."
Magni is the worst person he knows, and he could get away with saying it to his face, but his usual overthinking brain decides to interfere. He has all the time in the world to yell at Magni for being a freak, while actual carefree makeout sessions are much rarer. The harness gives him plenty of convenient handholds with which to grab Magni and shut him up with his lips.
Even though Bettel can feel him smirking into the kiss, knowing this was what he wanted all along, he melts anyway. Fuck winning or losing their stupid game. Bettel could do this forever— just relax here in Magni's arms, surrounded by the smell of his perfume, savoring the taste of his lips and the way his nails dig into Bettel's shoulders when their tongues tangle. He feels his way along the harness straps, running down Magni's spine to circle the ports where his extra arms would plug in. The seam between metal and flesh, from soft, yielding human skin to polished gold feels pleasantly odd under his fingertips. It must feel just as nice for Magni too because he arches his back into the touch like a cat getting scratched, glowing gold eyes half-shut.
"Good?" Bettel murmurs.
"If you stop, I'll kill you."
"C'mon, you'd never hurt me."
Magni opens his eyes fully. "Don't push it... master."
It must have hurt him to say that, even though they both know who's in control here. Bettel kisses him more gently, pulling away to get a better look at him, running his fingers through the uneven ends of Magni's blond hair. The outfit isn't doing much for him. Magni is at his best when he's not destroying Bettel's entire wardrobe with the magic of pure incompetence. But it's still Magni, who Bettel loves and appreciates very much, and he's still gorgeous, even when he's gross and sweaty from standing around a raging fireplace for hours and wearing something that a stripper would reject for being too revealing.
"We should get out of here," Bettel finally says. He knows he's admitting defeat and doesn't care. "You're taking me shopping for new clothes later. And out to dinner."
"Deal." Magni's breathing is quick and shallow, filling Bettel's senses with the smell of mint. He's flushed as pink as his harness from his forehead to his chest, and Bettel is sure he looks just as wrecked himself. "Anything you want."
They could just ditch the whole thing here. Everything he owns is beyond repair already. But Bettel eyes the burnt mess in the cauldron, and common decency wins out over selfishness. "I'll make you a deal. Finish the laundry and we'll take it back to my room."
"My room," Magni insists.
"We did it in your room last time. I'd rather fuck on an actual bed than a pile of your nasty lab clothes."
"Funny how I don't remember you complaining."
"I was distracted by someone's fingers up my ass—"
Footsteps echo through the hallway outside the laundry room. Bettel shuts up and holds his breath, praying that his voice doesn't carry through the door, but whoever it is passes by without stopping. With a long sigh of relief, he turns back to Magni.
He's already on his knees.
"You just said that door doesn't lock!"
"Shit, did I?" The alchemist grins, licking his lips. "Guess you'll have to be quiet."
Bettel fixes his eyes on the ceiling and breathes in, out, in, out. Free blowjob. Almost makes up for teaching a stupid laundry crash course. Magni yanks at the laces of Bettel's sweats, almost snapping the frayed strings in his hurry, but Bettel manages to save his last pair of intact pants and gets the knots undone himself.
"Shhh," Magni whispers against his inner thigh. He nips at the delicate skin through the fabric, pinching slightly between sharp teeth, and a rush of warmth floods Bettel's whole body. "This is all for you, baby."
Bettel decides he was wrong about earlier. Magni's perfect. Everything about him is perfect, and this perfect creature is kneeling in front of him and about to suck his dick. His gold eyes are dazed, a little unfocused as he works Bettel's pants down and playfully mouths at his cock through his underwear, looking up at him for approval through his long lashes. His breath is even hotter than his skin and Bettel has no idea when he got fully hard, but he's about to rip straight through his remaining clothes if Magni doesn't hurry the fuck up.
"Holy shit," he gasps. "More. Please."
"That's what I thought."
He takes the waistband of Bettel's briefs in his teeth and pulls it down, freeing his dick from the tight fabric. It's times like this when Bettel is reminded that the alchemist really does care about his pleasure, loves watching him fall apart whether he's giving or receiving. Soft, sticky kisses and touches trail up his shaft, turning into slow licks when he reaches the head. It's not the "hurry up" Bettel's hoping for, but Magni nuzzles down to the base, swirling his tongue around the head to lick up precome, and Bettel's hips jerk involuntarily. He shuts his eyes, as if it'll help him stop shivering.
Soft fingers twine through his. Bettel squeezes the hand instinctively, thinking he's looking for more contact, but Magni pulls at him until he looks down. He tilts his head, smiling, and Bettel understands.
Use me? Please?
Gods. Those eyes are almost obscene. Magni could ask him for anything, batting glossy lashes over that intense, glowing gaze, and he wouldn't be able to resist. He doesn't usually take charge when they fuck, since Magni has a lot of ideas about sex and the determination to make them happen, but if he's asking, Bettel can oblige.
The wrist chains. They're probably not just there for decoration. Bettel grabs them and twists them around his hand, forcing Magni's wrists up to his collar, and uses them to hold Magni's head still, fucking into his throat. The angle isn't quite right and the alchemist gags a little as the full length pushes against the back of his mouth, but he relaxes quickly and takes it like a champ, adjusting himself until Bettel's cock slides easily down his throat.
A cry almost makes it past his clenched teeth when Magni swallows around him, but he turns it into a moan at the last minute. The sound startles him. He barely recognizes his own voice. Bettel muffles himself with his free hand, glancing at the laundry room door in terror. He knows, deep down, that this is going to end in disaster. Everything does for him, but damn, the road to disaster feels fucking fantastic.
Gods, his day just keeps getting better. Fire hotter than the air in the tiny room starts to throb in his gut, setting off flashes of light in his closed eyes. Bettel breathes deeply, unable to hold back every moan. He's so close, if Magni just holds still for him a little longer—
Something bitter makes his nose burn and start to run. He sniffs hard, picking up an edge of extra-foul smoke in the air.
"Something's burning," he gasps.
Magni sighs in disappointment as he wipes spit off his chin with the back of his hand. "There's a fire in this room. You made me build it, remember?"
"No dumbass, like my last few pieces of clothes are burning."
"Huh?"
Bettel drops the chains, maneuvers Magni off of him, and yanks his pants back up, ignoring his complaints. The fire has settled down into a bed of golden coals, but there's a thin thread of smoke drifting up from the cauldron. It's another one of Bettel's shirts, dried out and smoldering a few inches out of the water.
"Ah, shit." Bettel tries to stir it again, but the water is mostly congealed soap scum and nothing moves. "We should've rinsed and hung everything up ages ago."
"I'll do it," Magni insists. A high-pitched hum rings out, just out of the range of Bettel's hearing, and it makes his ears itch. Pink light flickers weakly between Magni's hands, getting stronger by the second.
"No, put that away. No magic. We're doing it by hand."
"Too slow. Come on. Watch this."
"NO—"
Bettel isn't good enough with magic to recognize the next spell, but he knows Magni well enough to run for cover. Several gallons of scalding hot soapy water slop out of the cauldron and fall directly on the remains of the fire, sending a mushroom cloud of steam and ashes roaring up.
The air turns completely white. Bettel tries to breathe, but he gets a mouthful of ash instead. He yanks the neck of his t-shirt over his face, coughing, spitting, and wiping soapy lavender residue away from his eyes. The disaster is hidden in the smoke cloud, but knowing Magni's terrible excuse for control over his own powers, all of his clothes have just been destroyed for the second time.
Magni owes him new ones when they're done. At the rate they're going, Bettel decides, he'll be cashing in favors for the rest of his life. It might not be a bad thing.
Another spell hisses to life in the form of a sharp gust of enchanted wind. The thick smoke cloud blows out of the room, clearing the air, but it nearly rips the unlocked door straight off its hinges. It slams against the outside wall with a bang that shakes the guild hall from roof to foundations.
Bettel's mouth falls open.
"The fuck was that?" Axel bellows from a few rooms over.
"Nothing!" Magni squeaks. "Everything is fine! Going great!"
"You sure? Smells like smoke!"
"I'm just—"
"AYO POPS, MAGNI'S BURNING DOWN THE LAUNDRY ROOM AGAIN!"
"What?" Vesper calls. "Dez, get out of there, you never do your own laundry. I'll help you clean up, give me a second."
Bettel covers his face and wonders if the floor could do him the courtesy of opening up a nice deep sinkhole underneath his boots. He turns to say something to Magni about keeping his stupid mouth shut once in a while, but the alchemist is already scuttling away. All Bettel sees is a flash of blond hair before he disappears into the cleaning supply closet.
Typical Magni. Leaving him high and dry when crisis hits.
Bettel gauges the distance between himself and the door, but it's too far for him to reach in time. The ring of Vesper's bootheels on the stone floor is deafening. From the sound of it, he has three seconds to throw together a convincing argument.
A familiar blue hand laced with corruption scars suddenly slams the door shut. Bettel's heart skips several beats.
"Everything's under control, they just had a little trouble with wet firewood," Shinri says smoothly from the outside hallway. "I think we should leave them alone for now and trust that they have it under control."
"If you're sure," Vesper says. "That's, uh, kind of a lot of smoke, right..."
"Open some windows, it'll clear. I'll help you."
"Sounds good. Thanks." The scholar turns around and walks away. Bettel squeezes his eyes shut and offers a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening.
"You okay?" Shinri whispers suddenly through the crack between the door and the frame. "Bettel, I'm not coming in, but I know you're in there with him."
"Just lost fifty years off my life," Bettel whimpers. "I owe you for that one."
"Yeah, you do." The ronin's smile is audible in his voice. "Axel's still around, so don't leave and keep it quiet. I won't be able to cover for you again."
He follows Vesper down the hallway and his footsteps fade out in the distance. Bettel puts his ear to the wall, listening hard until everything is still and silent again.
"Coast is clear," Bettel whispers as loud as he dares. "Saved by Shinri."
"Shinri is the fucking best," Magni mumbles. He emerges from the supply closet, covered in ash and breathing into his cupped hands. "We should do something for him. Threesome with him sometime. I don't know."
"Wha—" Bettel can't tell if he heard that right. The emotional rollercoaster of his day has taken too many turns for him to care anymore. "You know, fine. We'll talk about it later."
He looks around the ruins of the laundry room, wondering why his feet suddenly feel so damp. Curiosity turns to dawning horror as the smoke clears enough for him to see.
The good part is that his clothes were, at some point, rinsed in the pool of clean water next to the cauldron.
The bad part is that they're now hanging on the rack while dripping wet, charred in places, and steaming furiously. The floor is swamped three inches deep from corner to corner, filling the small room with clouds of steam, and disgusting patches of scummy ash stick to Bettel's shoes when he tries to shuffle to drier ground. Apparently, no one has ever told Magni that clothes need to be wrung out before getting hung to dry.
"You are a fucking trainwreck!" Bettel finally wheezes.
"It's done! Who cares?" Magni pulls at his own chains in frustration. "You're fucking up my mood."
"They're not gonna be dry for a month!" Bettel sees the look on Magni's face and grabs his wrists as another spell bursts to life in midair, sending out waves of shimmering heat. "No magic! Do not get fire anywhere near my clothes. Holy shit, just leave it alone. Gods. You... I. I. I can't. I just can't."
He fans a little more steam up through the chimney, praying that the rest of Tempus has either gone suddenly deaf or is on a long vacation. If Altare tries to come in and investigate, it won't be as easy to shake him off. Bettel tries to tiptoe away from the dirty water seeping into his socks, but his boot heel hits a smooth spot on the tiles, skidding sideways as his legs shoot out from under him.
Everything around him seems to slow down. Bettel's face gets closer and closer to the flagstones. It's very fitting that he'd find a way to eat shit and die two seconds after Shinri saved his ass from getting caught mid-quickie. He shuts his eyes, bracing himself to see inside the Hollow Tree.
He never hits the ground. Instead, he's pulled against a solid, scantily-clad chest and dragged back to his feet. Magni is grinning down at him like a cat with a canary, holding him steady as he regains his balance.
"What would you do without me?" the alchemist asks smugly. "Don't answer that, I already know."
"Go to hell," Bettel grumbles. He grabs Magni's arm in a death grip as he walks him toward the supply closet and pulls him inside. It's cramped, no bigger than a few feet across with a pile of the guild's dirty linens taking up most of the floor, but at least it's dry.
"We're not doing it in here. What the fuck."
"What?" Magni rubs up against him again, pulling Bettel's arms around his waist. "You wanted privacy, I got us some privacy."
They can't get out, even if it's to head to an actual room with an actual bed. Bettel remembers Shinri's warning about Axel still lurking around. Things could be worse, he reminds himself. It's practically his personal mantra by now.
"Lay down," Magni whispers against his mouth, teasing him with berry-flavored kisses and a hand crawling down his thigh. "I'll do everything for you, don't worry..."
"Dude, these are gross."
"They're already dirty, who gives a shit?" The alchemist ditches his fake seductive voice, kicks the linens into a flat heap, and yanks Bettel towards him, almost knocking him over again. "Stop complaining or I'll hold you down."
Technically, it's a step up from doing it on the floor. Bettel lets himself get pushed down on his back, pulling some extra sheets under his head as a pillow. Magni crawls over him and yanks his pants down, straddling his hips in just the right position for his cock to rub up against the nicely toned globes of his bare ass.
The slight drag of his mesh excuse for underwear sends an incredible chill down Bettel's spine. Between the interrupted blowjob and the adrenaline of almost getting found, any kind of friction has him on edge. This is exactly what he needs. Someone else doing all the work, not letting him overthink like usual. He grabs two nice handfuls of ass and squeezes hard, savoring the feel of firm muscle and silky thigh.
"You need prep?" Bettel gasps.
Magni shrugs and casually pushes his underwear aside, guiding Bettel's hand a little lower. "I was hoping you'd notice."
He has a buttplug in. Naturally. It's not that wide, but it's bigger than anything Bettel thinks he could take himself. He traces the polished knob at the plug's end, pressing it in a little deeper to tease him. No wonder Magni's been so horny and distracted all day. His whole body burns thinking about Magni fighting his own arousal every time it nudged up against his prostate. It wouldn't have been enough to get him to come, and he'd deliberately chained his hands too high to touch himself.
"Take it out," Magni says breathlessly. His hips move slightly as Bettel shifts from rubbing the plug's end to running his fingers around his stretched, puffy asshole. "I... might need a little more help."
"Shit. I don't have lube. What do you want to do—"
Magni digs around in the dirty sheets and pulls out a little glass jar of lube.
"Seriously?" Bettel hisses.
The look Magni gives him could blight crops and kill livestock. "Fuck off, you already know I didn't come here to wash your fucking clothes."
"You're actually the nastiest bitch on the planet." Bettel unzips his boots, yanks his shirt over his head, and throws his clothes aside. "Let's do this before I change my mind."
"Hypocrite," Magni scoffs.
"Hoe."
"Cry about it. I know you love me."
The supply closet door does lock, sparing Bettel's remaining sanity. Magni turns the key and drops it on the shelf before unhooking his chains from his collar, giving his hands a little more room to move. Bettel lounges lazily with his hands behind his head, watching the weak candlelight gleam off his hair and trace gold lines across his face and lips. Laundry or no laundry, the view is fucking nice. He's nicely built but not bulky, all subtle muscle and perky ass with just the right amount of bounce.
"Plug," Magni whines. "Out. Now."
"Fine. Yeah." Bettel dips three fingers into the greasy lotion and strokes around Magni's hole, trying to help out as much as possible. Getting serviced like this always makes him feel guilty. He's sure he deserves some pampering after the day he's had, but Magni is fucking hot and can pull anyone he wants with a smile and a wink. Bettel is... just Bettel. Good for a laugh, but not a lay. The wildest things in his bed most nights are dust bunnies.
And he's overthinking again. Great. He forces his brain back to the task at hand and eases the plug out of him, moving slowly to spread more lube around.
The toy falls into his hand, glimmering in the light. It's bright gold and too heavy for its size. Bettel stares at it suspiciously.
"Is this—"
"Philosopher's Stone, dummy. Base metals into gold, remember?"
He's the worst. Vile, rotten, bitchy, obnoxious motherfucker who fucking uses solid gold sex toys because he can. Bettel almost starts laughing out of sheer frustration as he tosses the plug safely into the sheets next to them and tries to make a mental note of retrieving it when they're done. If they let it end up in someone else's laundry by accident, they're both done for. Knowing his luck, it probably will.
"Do something," Magni insists. He grinds his hips shamelessly, and all of Bettel's complaints disappear again. As payback for last week, Bettel sinks three fingers into him and gets rewarded with a hungry whimper when Magni squirms and lets out a whine that goes straight to his dick. He doesn't touch him for long; his dick is demanding other things, and whatever Magni wants can wait.
"Doesn't feel so good when it's you, does it?" Bettel pulls away, massaging traces of leftover lube into Magni's inner thighs, and grins when the blissed-out look on his face turns murderous. "Your turn to beg."
"You wish."
Magni raises himself up on his knees for a second, repositions himself, and sinks down on Bettel's cock in one quick motion, bottoming out until his ass is flush against Bettel's hips.
It's so good. Fuck. Too good. Magni is usually so busy trying to get his dick into Bettel that he's forgotten what it's like to be on the giving end. His head spins and his pulse roars in his head, drowning everything else out. His senses are too scrambled to let him talk or move. He's paralyzed, almost torn in half from pressure, pleasure, and heat. Magni digs painted fingernails into his chest, thighs gripping his body tightly as he shifts position, panting hard, and settles into a steady riding rhythm.
"Magni," he gasps faintly. "Fuck, you're so..."
"Door's locked," Magni says against his mouth. His teeth find Bettel's tongue, and the slight pain of the bite turns into a tingling need as their bodies work against each other. "I want to hear you."
And Bettel lets him. It's so easy to let the world funnel down to just the two of them. Magni can turn him into a melted mess in seconds, unwinding his usual ball of stress and tension into foggy awareness and no inhibitions with nothing but a few touches. He grips the sheets desperately, arching his back to meet Magni's slow strokes. Release is so close, but so out of reach-
"Slower," Bettel groans. He grips Magni's waist, digging his thumbs into the divots of his hips. As much as he wants to come, he doesn't want this to end. "Can't stand you."
"Whatever. You and the rest of Elysium." Magni leans in and kisses him again, messy and fast and wet. "I always get what I want... and I've always wanted you."
Gods, Bettel hates him and loves him. Warmth swells in his chest and bursts like a balloon, running down his spine and coating every inch of his insides. Magni has always been sneaky poison to Bettel's heart, reputation, and brain, that irresistible smile torturing him in person and in his dreams. They're too much alike: needy, insecure enough to be annoying to anyone else except each other. And that makes him perfect.
"I love you," Magni breathes, so quiet and so muffled that Bettel could have mistaken it for a moan. "I love you, always."
He doesn't last much longer. He can't. Bettel's holding Magni too tightly, and he can feel his fingers leaving bruises, but he can't let go to save his life. Shudders rack his whole body until he's finally able to let go and relax. He feels like he's been dissolved by ocean waves, everything in him floating away in different directions with no real urgency to put himself back together. Something hot splatters on his chest as Magni comes on both of their stomachs, streaking his pale skin white.
Bettel lets his eyes drift closed again. He feels floaty, at total peace, in the way that only really good sex leaves him feeling. There's a little edge of discomfort as Magni climbs off of him and the drag of his insides against Bettel's dick makes him gasp, but he gets another round of kisses for it, and that makes it worthwhile.
The door handle rattles. Bettel's formerly relaxed soul almost leaves his body.
"It's locked. I'll get the other mop from down the hall." One of the guild servants is right outside, separated from total embarrassment by two inches of door. "Mr. Syrios, this could take hours to clean up. There's a lot of dirty water starting to leak into the hall, and those foundations are wooden. If it doesn't get dry in time..."
"What the- Oh my fucking god, Magni, what did you do?!"
Axel must have decided to take matters into his own hands. Bettel tries not to scream every swear word he knows. If he bangs his head against the stone floor hard enough, he might be able to give himself a good case of amnesia.
"Yeah, if you could just get this mopped up before it starts drying- yeah. Thanks. Yeah, I know, this is why we don't fucking let him in here. No, I don't know how it happened. Sorry." The gladiator's footsteps slosh around on the wet floor as the servant starts to blot the tiles dry.
And they're starting from the wall closest to the door. Just his luck. Bettel helplessly listens to the mop splashing back and forth, wiping up the ashy swamp disaster in the laundry room.
"Are we stuck in here?" Magni hisses furiously. "You're fucking with me. How long is this going to take?"
"Don't look at me, this was your idea!" Bettel tries to squirm away from him and look under the door, but he's at the wrong angle to see out and all he has to go off is the sound of footsteps moving back and forth. "Great. Amazing. Now what?"
"Umm." Magni gives him a sidelong look that says he's planning something fun and probably dangerous. "Round two?"
Bastard. Bettel has to bury his face in the sheets to silence his laughter. He tries to shake his head, but when Magni's leg sneaks over his, he lets himself surrender to more soft kisses on his neck and warm hands on his waist.
One of these days, he'll either have to marry Magni or kill him. He still isn't sure which one.