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There is something unnerving about the way Vestea continues to stare at him. The way those eyes just stare right into his soul.
There is no way he can explain himself out of this one. Vestea can be a little on the innocent side, but they are nowhere near dense enough to ignore what"s right in front of their fucking eyes.
Thinking, thinking, and thinking—Vestea is likely thinking of the ways they can expose Bettel"s ass to Vesper. Hopefully, it won"t lead to his expulsion from the guild. Obviously, he is never going to hear the end of this from Magni, and Vesper…
God, dear sweet Vesper is going to see him as an absolute freak.
“Man, I really screwed the pooch on this one.” And yet, even when things go horrifically wrong, Bettel can’t help but find something arousing about it. Must be the various expressions of disgust that he’s imagining Vesper will make when he learns the truth. “That’s a new one.”
Still doesn’t make it any less hot.
No, but seriously—he really can’t afford to let this happen. He needs Vesper to accept him, and this is just going to ruin all of his hard work so far. And sure, it’s going to suck—but Magni is the type of guy who is willing to bail anyone out of a pickle with a memory-altering potion.
For a price, of course.
Money isn’t an issue for Bettel, but the real price he’ll have to pay is whatever is left of his dignity. Because Magni is going to milk the ever-loving fuck out of his faux pas to roast him for the rest of his existence.
Shockingly enough, Bettel’s unpredictable luck pulls the fuck through for him when Vestea chooses not to scold him. Instead, the little teacup gives him a thumbs-up.
“What the actual fuck.”
Bettel is at a loss for words, unable to comprehend the sudden closeness that Vestea exhibits towards him. He continues sharing his meals with the teacup, still baffled by their surprisingly accepting attitude. “Dude, I literally snuck into his room to steal his underwear—what the fuck.”
Vestea has nothing to say to that, preferring to share a personal list of Vesper’s likes and dislikes with him—which, by the way, fuckin’ yoink.
“You still owe me an explanation.” Bettel’s brain refuses to move on from this, regardless of the massive bullet he just dodged. “Hey—are you ignoring me?”
Vestea is far too engrossed in whatever it is that they’re writing down in their little notebook to even give Bettel a response. It’s a complicated chart of some sort, with writing that Bettel can’t read due how small it is. Vestea catches him staring and quickly snaps their notebook shut.
“Well, geez—no need for that attitude.” And just like clockwork, Vestea shows their feral side by chomping down on his finger when he pokes at them. “Aww, how cuuuute. That actually didn’t hurt.”
He really should stop testing his luck. Though, it’s rather hard to keep a clear head when he’s on cloud-fucking-nine from rolling around in Vesper’s bed. He does his best to keep the place clean, with guidance from Vestea. Can’t leave any traces of his escapades—there’s only so much that Vestea can do to bail him out, after all.
Which is why he does his best to make the most of what he has access to, each time he buries his face into Vesper’s pillow. His shorts feel painfully tight, but he refrains from touching himself. He’ll have his fun soon enough. Right now, he’s far too content with just breathing in Vesper’s comforting scent. He brings the pillow closer to his body, pretending that it’s Vesper as he wraps his arms tightly around it.
He"d love nothing more than to feel Vesper’s body against his, so that he can confirm their physical differences for himself. The thought alone makes his body burn with desire, urging him to roll his hips against the pillow. He nearly gets lost in the sensation, rutting his hips a few more times until his head clears itself—just enough that he’s able to remember the box of condoms that Vestea had left out for him. No doubt, it’s the same box of condoms that they had all received when they had moved into the building that Magni had bought for them to live together.
Magni always knows when to take advantage of an opening, especially when it benefits him the most. Beyond just seeing everyone’s flustered expression and confusion, he has made it quite clear that he’s down for a good time with any of them.
To this day, Bettel still doesn’t know if anyone has taken Magni’s offer. And he’d prefer to keep it that way, lest Magni ask about his own sex life and find out that he’s used up all his condoms to make balloon animals in a drunken haze. No—he’s not ready to drop that story on anyone just yet.
One day—just not anytime this week. Maybe around Vesper, so he can hear that addicting laugh of his…
“Vesper…” Gods, the things he would do to that man with a box of condoms…does Vesper even like using condoms? “Shit!!”
Oh geez, it’s dangerous thinking like this when he’s already so hot and bothered. He can’t afford to make a mess in Vesper’s bed, as tempting as it is to stain the scholar’s pillow with his cum. No, that’ll have to wait until after he’s figured out how to use the new washing machine.
For now…
Bettel tears open a condom, quickly rolling it onto his dick with ease. As far as experience goes, he’s certainly lacking in areas. But it’s just enough that he no longer wastes any condoms with his fuckups. That’d certainly be embarrassing…
Of course, he’s since left his shame at the door, where Vestea was waiting for him to remind him not to make a mess. Not while that disaster of a laundry day was still fresh in everyone’s memories… God, Bettel still can’t believe how lucky he is.
To be able to drown in Vesper’s scent, while humping his pillow. No one around to disturb his private time as he fills one condom up right after another. Just when he thinks he’s had enough, he finds himself rolling on another condom.
“One more,” he keeps saying, even though it feels like his body is going to combust. It’s too much, and yet, not enough for him—not when the clock is still ticking. Who knows when he’ll have another chance to be alone in Vesper’s room like this?
Besides, it feels too good to stop. The way his brain feels like it’s turning to mush from the ripples of pleasure he feels coursing through his body. More, more, and more—he bites down onto the pillow to muffle some of his cries, not wanting to make too much noise. The last thing he needs is Vestea walking in on him. He might be shameless, but he’s above traumatizing Vesper’s little assistant. Not after all that they’ve done for him.
By the time he finally finishes, the box is completely empty. He stares up at the ceiling, his vision completely out of focus as his chest heaves with heavy pants. He’s never pushed himself this far before—never had a reason to, as he was the type to get it over and done with whenever he had his needs. He feels…oddly proud of himself.
“Good boy,” he can practically hear Vesper saying, his hand gently patting his head. Man, he must really miss the scholar to be hallucinating to this extent…not that he actually minds. It’s comforting, and really, only makes him feel even more impatient for his return.
He cleans up after himself, taking care to collect each used condom that he’s left on the bed. Vestea handles everything else, demanding that Bettel shower while he can still stand on his own two feet. The exhaustion doesn’t set in until literally minutes after he’s stepped out of the shower.
“Holy fuck.” Bettel has to practically hug the wall in order to get around, causing Flayon to give him a smug look when he passes by his sorry ass. “What’s with that face?”
“Just thinking about Ring Fit—you should really work on your stamina.” Oh that smug, son of a— “Next time, go easy on the workouts!!”
Flayon runs off before Bettel has a chance to even think of a comeback. Cheeky brat…
Well, it sure beats being asked any questions while his brain is still rebooting itself. Maybe he should’ve gone a little easier on himself…
…
Nah.
“Like that’ll stop me.” Bettel sees more as a challenge to himself. Because frankly, he can probably do a lot better next time. Maybe without needing to use any condoms—no, he’s getting ahead of himself. All it takes is a single look from Vestea to remind him that he won’t always be so lucky. “I’m just here to hang out.”
It’s not a lie—even if he spends most of their time together in Vesper’s bed, just burying his face into a pillow. The room smells of freshly brewed tea, likely as a result of Vestea’s natural scent. It helps cover up the smell of sweat and latex, replacing it with one that Bettel finds more familiar. It’s not the same as Vesper’s, but it’s still just as comforting.
Talk, talk, and talk—Bettel just wants to keep on talking Vestea. Talking about trivial things, since Phantom is still missing. He’s not as distraught as he should be, due to the many other distractions keeping him busy. Beyond that, he can’t help but want to use all those particular emotions on Vesper. Just so that he has an excuse to milk every last comforting word and touch out of Vesper.
Just like that day.
Yet again, Bettel can imagine Vesper’s hand patting his head. That same, gentle touch that makes his heart skip a beat…
So warm, and soothing…
“Mine…” Bettel murmurs, just seconds before his consciousness slips away from him. He never meant to fall asleep in Vesper’s bed—never meant for Vesper himself to find him like this. He shouldn’t be here, without Vesper’s explicit permission.
And yet, there he is, hugging Vesper’s pillow close to his chest like some sort of plush toy. As though he rightfully belonged there, instead of his own room.
“Did you have a nice sleepover with Vestea?” Vesper’s question barely registers itself in Bettel’s head, sleep still clouding most of his thoughts. Slowly, it starts sinks in that something is wrong, and it’s really only until Vesper starts laughing that Bettel finally wakes up.
“Oh, fuck—Vesper, I am so sorry!!” He’s not. He’s more sorry that he’s been caught, but Vesper doesn’t need to know that.
Bettel’s apologies come out in a garbled mishmash of words, his thoughts running faster than his mouth. Like an incomprehensible string of letters being smashed out on a keyboard. He looks like an absolute idiot, and really, he wouldn’t blame Vesper for seeing him as one. Because he is an idiot for continuously pushing his luck.
Really, he can’t keep getting away with this—because he manages yet again to avoid the consequences of his own actions. Vesper is far too amused to take offense to Bettel’s sudden presence in his bed, as a result of Vestea’s decision to sleep in the pillow right next to Bettel’s head. The little teacup remains asleep, even when Bettel continues running his mouth.
Vesper does his best to calm Bettel—a commendable effort, wasted entirely on the lost cause that is God’s fucking Blunder. Not that it stops Vesper from trying, and he somehow manages anyway. It’s just enough for Bettel to finally notice the little purple creature that’s sitting on Vesper’s shoulder.
“Ph-Phantom?!” Bettel doesn’t know whether he should feel relieved or enraged. “Where the fuck have you been?!”
“So you left without letting Bettel know, huh?” Vesper gives Phantom a few light scratches behind his ears. “I thought you were a good boy, Phantom?”
Phantom only responds by leaning into his touch, prompting Vesper to pat him on the head.
“Well, I guess you’re my good boy.” There’s something strange about Vesper’s words—the way it manages to shake Bettel to his core. “Such a good, hardworking boy…”
Bettel pulls a pillow over his lap, his face heating up noticeably with a blush. He knows that Vesper’s words are directed at Phantom. Knows that it’s not meant for him.
And yet…
That doesn’t stop Bettel from experiencing it himself, as though he were in Phantom’s place. The way Vesper pats his head and praises him with words that one would use on a dog. It’s amazing how weak Bettel is, for something that’s entirely trivial to have such an arousing effect on his body.
Maybe that’s what makes Vesper so special.
“Phantom has kept me company during these past few weeks.” Vesper remains blissfully unaware of Bettel’s current dilemma, brought on by Phantom’s strange existence. “I can’t explain how, but…I’m thankful for his presence.”
“I’m…glad.” Bettel swallows hard. “I was…worried.”
“Is that why you’ve been hanging out with Vestea?” Vesper’s smile is absolutely breathtaking. “Of course you have, otherwise I wouldn’t have found you here in my room.”
“Huh.” So that means… “I see.”
“Thank you for keeping an eye on them while I was gone.” This time, Vesper’s hand is on his head, fingers playfully tousling his hair. It’s such an affectionate gesture, with a touch that lingers far longer than Bettel was expecting.
His vision whites out for a moment, his body trembling as a wet heat spreads across his groin. He hopes Vesper doesn’t notice—doesn’t notice the mess that he’s suddenly made from his touch alone. The pillow is hiding it, but for how long?
Gods, he’s so pathetic…
“You good?” Vesper’s voice does a good job at keeping Bettel’s self-loathing at bay.
“Y-Yeah…” Bettel nods his head, acting as though nothing is wrong. Even though everything is wrong, and oh god—this is Vesper’s pillow… “Fuck!”
That is nowhere near as arousing as it should be, and yet, here Bettel is, trying to will away whatever it is that’s making his dick twitch with interest.
“If you don’t mind me asking, but…would you like to have breakfast with me?” There’s something endearing about the way Vesper tries to hide his uncertainty. How he tries to appear calm when he’s already acting so bashful from asking such a simple question. “Don’t force yourself if you don’t want to…”
“What—no!” Bettel would rather die than reject Vesper. “I would be delighted to have breakfast with you—I’m just. Confused…why me?”
“Why not?” Vesper laughs. “Normally, I’d ask Dez, but…he’s asleep. And Altare passed out on the couch as soon as we got here. Everyone else is still asleep, but…not you.”
“Not anymore.” Bettel snorts—he can’t help himself, he’s a snarky bastard, god dammit!
“Sorry.” Which is why he wants to kick himself for making Vesper feel bad.
“Nah, it’s fine—I don’t mind.” Only because it’s Vesper. And Bettel would do anything for him.
“Great! I could use the company right now.”
Anything.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit…” Bettel forces out a laugh. “I need to get dressed first.”
And hide a mess while he’s at it.
“Well, take your time. There’s no need to rush.” As soon as Vesper shuts the door, Bettel heaves out a sigh.
That was too fucking close…
“You know, we could have avoided all of this if you just woke me up.” Bettel pokes at Vestea, who is quite slow to wake up. “But that’s on me for being such a pathetic loser.”
A pathetic loser with an insane luck stat. Hot damn, he can’t keep getting away with this.
But he will.