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Swear to all the gods and goddesses above, below and in the middle, those who had withdrawn their influence and retreated to their separate universes, perished with the old world, or were roaming the Chaldean hall still, those who had fought for or against humanity, those who had stood by and watched—
That was a bit lengthy, he mused.
Right, let’s rephrase it.
Swear on his honor as the last Master of humankind, Fujimaru Ritsuka did not intend to eavesdrop.
He was only passing by when he happened to catch it because the walls in Chaldea weren’t exactly soundproof.
Budget, budget, sang the Chaldean hymn.
“Sir Bedivere, please!”
Ritsuka stopped on his track. Huh? That voice just now sounded suspiciously like Tristan’s, didn’t it?
He back-walked a few short steps to have a look at the small metal plaque above the door. The embossed numbers helped confirm that it was indeed Bedivere and Tristan’s room, or “love nest”, as Mordred had lovingly referred at one point.
So, that must have been Tristan’s voice since neither occupant of this room had a habit of inviting others into their humble abode, unlike certain Servants whose names Ritsuka refused to list.
The realization had the young Chaldean Master plough his brows infinitesimally. Tristan was usually quiet — likely snoozing, according to his fellow Round Table knights’ helpful input; when the red knight did speak, his voice was mostly soft and even, with the exquisitely right amount of drowsiness injected to be sensual, according to Musashi’s not-so-helpful input that one time she had paid Chaldea an unexpected visit. Never had Ritsuka heard him like just now — generally whiny, with an exasperatedly impatient undertone (the Master surprised himself for coming up with that description).
That, coupled with Bedivere’s name tossed in his sentence, had Ritsuka‘s curiosity piqued.
Swear on his honor as the last Master of humankind, he did not intend to eavesdrop. His body, however, seemed to have a different idea, for when his feet moved, Ritsuka found himself significantly closer to the door than he had been before.
“It’s very unlike you to be so indecisive.”
Tristan’s tone, half accusatory, half taunting, caused Ritsuka to nearly jump out of his skin; for a split second he thought he was being addressed by his Servant behind the door, caught with his ear millimeters from the polished wooden surface.
“It’s not being indecisive, it’s being cautious!”
Here came the silver knight‘s rebuke.
“What’s to be cautious for?” Tristan’s voice went up a notch and Ritsuka could hear his pout, despite having never seen such an expression on the red knight’s handsome face. There were certain things those two only shared with each other, Gawain had mentioned in passing, taking a break from their farming sessions. Closest chums of the Round Table, he had added in the end.
“I can’t just thrust it in like that!”
Ritsuka almost bit his tongue, not due to Bedivere’s raised voice, which was in itself a rarest thing, but due to what had just come out of his mouth, loud and clear. What in the name of Tiamat were they doing?
Tristan’s light chuckles rang like those tiny silver bells Jeanne Alter Lily and Jack were so fond of. “Oh come on, Sir Bedivere,” he said, and there was rustling of fabric, like someone was moving on the bed. “We are Knights of the Round Table. We’ve fought through countless battles against men and beasts. I am much confident a little penetration won’t destroy me.”
Ritsuka hastily peeled himself off the door, feeling the skin of his face burning as if currents of molten lava were running beneath it. Now he had an inkling of what they might be doing and...... not that he was averse to their relationship taking a further step or something, quite the opposite actually, he was rather happy for them; after all these two had always been very close, particularly joined at the hip when they weren’t called on separate missions. It was just... well, it was a lot to process; knowing that they would eventually get together was one thing; seeing — hearing — it happen in such peculiar circumstance was another.
Meanwhile, their conversation went on, seemingly unperturbed by their Master’s unannounced presence outside the door.
“It would hurt and-and even bleed if I just put it in. We have to be careful.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Sir Bedivere, I’ve had my fair share of pains and blood. Besides, what are you going to do to prepare me?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a real while since I did it. Maybe I should warm it up a little. That way it’ll go in easier. Or, or we need to find something to smooth the way in.”
Oh dear.
Ritsuka was absolutely torn. On the one hand, he felt that he should leave right now since this was being highly intrusive; privacy was a luxury when they were all holed up in here but Ritsuka, as well as the Chaldean staff, always tried their best to give their Servants some personal space to enjoy their precious little free time. On the other hand, he probably should do something before they hurt themselves and from what he’d heard, they were well on their way to cause some accidental damage to their own bodies. Those knights, so proficient on the battlefields, didn’t know what they were doing, it seemed.
“Just do what they did in the movie we saw in the den the other—OUCH!”
Oh yeah, something happened. Ritsuka did not definitely want to know what it was.
“Told you it would hurt...”
“Senpai, what are you doing?”
The rest of Bedivere’s speech faded into background the moment Ritsuka heard a familiar voice. “Oh, hi, Mash,” he greeted, moving toward her “I’m on my way to the library.”
“I thought you were looking for Sir Bedivere and Sir Tristan since you were standing before their door. They retired to their room after meal instead of joining Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot for a Wii spar. Are they not feeling alright?”
“No, no, they are fine,” Ritsuka replied, subtly steering her away from the door. “Super fine actually. I’m in the mood to research some Mesopotamian legends. Would you like to join me?”
“I’d love to,” Mash said, beaming brightly. “In fact, I’m on my way there too.”
“Let’s go then.”
Ritsuka spared one last look at the shut door before turning on his heels, praying with all his heart that these two wouldn’t injure themselves and would end up in an embarrassing trip to Nightingale’s infirmary.
...
It was difficult not to be a little hyper-fixated on your Servant’s every movement when you, as his Master, had to monitor him closely in order to be aware of any demerit and to give opportune aid and instructions. It was extra-difficult with the knowledge that he was likely physically uncomfortable due to some ahem activity you had inadvertently eavesdropped on.
Was he alright? Should he really be up and about and making all those complicated moves? Was he experiencing any discomfort and clenching his teeth because that was the way of the knight?
On hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have brought Tristan to the battlefield, even if his particular set of skills were most apt to utilize in this type of mission. That and Ritsuka didn’t really have other alternatives.
“The enemies are all eliminated, Master.”
Diarmuid’s voice broke Ritsuka out of his trance. Beside him, Tristan strummed a triumphant note with his bow-harp.
“Excellent work, you two,” Ritsuka said. “I think we’ve gathered enough of what we need and can call it a day.”
Diarmuid turned to Tristan and gave his shoulder a pat. “Sir Tristan, can I entice you to try the unique taste of Irish beer in the cafeteria?”
“Certainly,” Tristan replied. “Is it all right if I get Sir Bedivere to come with me?”
Diarmuid grinned. “Of course, the more the merrier.”
He tilted his head and squinted a little. “I thought you look somewhat different today but different how, I couldn’t tell until now,” Diarmuid said, catching Ritsuka’s attention as he was contacting Da Vinci to report. The young Master turned around and gave Tristan a lookover. “Different how?” he parroted. Had Tristan gotten some new accessories?
“He has a little braid by his left ear, just like mine.”
Ritsuka steered his attention toward Tristan’s ear and instantly understood. He let out a soft “Oh”.
However, the tiny braid wasn’t the only surprise he got.
“Sir Bedivere made it for me this morning because I told him I wanted to show off these freshly minted piercings,” Tristan said, wearing a rare elated expression on his delicate face.
Indeed, on his left ear was a row of three gleaming stones. Their exquisite color both matched his hair and starkly contrasted his fair skin tone.
“While I’m not a fan of accessories myself,” Diarmuid said, “I have to say they really suit you. Don’t you think so, Master?”
Ritsuka nodded in agreement.
“Thank you, Master, Diarmuid. Bedivere had some reservation when I asked him to help with these, even though he himself used to have piercings, but I was adamant and eventually he caved.”
Realization dawned in Ritsuka at the same time Diarmuid asked, sounding amazed, “Sir Bedivere did?”
“He did. If you look closely at his ears, you’ll find the faint traces.”
“Was it roughly a day and a half ago?”
Tristan nodded. “It was. Are you interested in getting your ears pierced as well, Master?”
So that was what had transpired in their room. And he thought they had been...
“I’m squeamish with pains so I’ll pass,” Ritsuka said, laughing and waving his hand. “I’m surprised our Bedi knows how to do that.”
“He’s surprisingly good at it, I must say, so pain is kept to a minimum. It may sting a little when the needle goes in but after that, it’s all fine and dandy.”
Ritsuka recalled his cry of pain and the young Master’s smile stiffened. “That still counts as pain so I think I’ll pass.”
“What are those made of?” Diarmuid asked. “They look like semi-precious stones but I can’t figure out the type, being far from an expert on gemstones.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tristan replied, snapping his fingers. “Thanks for reminding me, Diarmuid.”
Ritsuka and Diarmuid exchanged a bewildered look while Tristan sauntered to the vanquished beast’s carcass, humming a cheery soft tune. He squatted down, unsheathed the sword by his hip and...... ruthlessly sliced the beast’s tummy open, all with his eyes closed.
That in itself should be a great feat.
“What are you doing, Tristan?” Ritsuka exclaimed in shock, feeling mildly sick by the squelching noise as the red knight’s hand rummaged the beast’s insides.
“Paracelsus made the stones out of these beasts’ bladder stones,” Tristan explained, pointing a drenched finger at his ear. “They’re prone to have them, so he said. I’m not sure how he did it, probably some alchemy secret he isn’t inclined to share. He asked me to bring him some next time I’m on a hunt.”
Holding up some gore-dripping unidentifiable objects in his palm, he said, “Master, may I trouble you for a bag or sorts?”
Ritsuka gulped. Declining Tristan’s offer might have been his smartest decision of the week.
...
Epilogue
Tristan sighed lengthily, feeling blissfully boneless like he had been washed ashore after a storm and was now lounging on the sun-kissed beach, the sand warm and soft like cream beneath his back.
A finger caressed the shell of his left ear, the unique coolness characterized by the metal of which it was made causing him to shiver.
He might have discovered a new kink.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Oh Sir Bedivere,” Tristan drawled, pleased with how he sounded because he could hear Bedivere’s breath hitch, “must I remind you that we are Servants? Any injury we sustain heals almost instantly as long as we have sufficient mana.”
“Right... I tend to forget it sometimes. The whole Servant thing is kind of new to me.”
Tristan started chuckling, as if recalling a private joke. Too used to his erratic behaviors, Bedivere didn’t bat an eye.
“You should see Master’s face today,” Tristan said. “He seriously thought we had been shagging all night.”
“S-Sir Tristan,” Bedivere sputtered. “Mind your words, Sir, you are an honorable knight!”
Tristan’s chuckles turned into full cackles. “Bold of you to say that when you have your cock inside me... twitching in interest. Ready for round two?”
Bedivere grunted and made to slide out of Tristan, but he had only succeeded in moving a couple millimeters when he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t move,” Tristan ordered, and Bedivere immediately froze. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, but the power it held over Bedivere was immeasurable.
“I like it there, feeling me up. It fees... empty otherwise.”
He smirked, amber eyes glowing in the dark as he saw the blush creeping up Bedivere’s neck.
“To be fair, we did shag afterwards...”
Tristan gaped, feigning shocked. “Sir Bedivere!” he exclaimed. “Who should mind his words now?”
Bedivere retaliated by biting the tender, sensitive skin below his ear, hard enough for him to feel the sting. He knew Tristan liked it when “the gentle, mild-mannered Sir Bedivere got a little rough with vindictiveness”.
As expected, Tristan let out a contented sigh.
“I’m glad he didn’t ask why the number three,” Bedivere said.
“I would have told him the truth — never would I lie to my Master — that one for each time you’d come during our very first ‘mana transfer’ session.”
“Please,” Bedivere groaned, defeated, “he’s barely eighteen.”
“And has already battled men, beasts and gods, so he can handle a few coital bits here and there, I believe.”
He raised a hand and tucked a lock of flaxen hair behind Bedivere’s ear. “Why don’t you wear a pair too? Just like the old days.”
“A pair? You don’t mean I should get a row of five on my left ear to match yours?”
Tristan’s laughter rang loud and clear in the confines of their room. It proved to be contagious, because Bedivere soon joined him.
“I don’t mind getting my hand dirty with a few more monsters’ innards.”
He paused and caressed Bedivere’s earlobe, mimicking his earlier act. “Plus, I’ll get to penetrate you five times.”
The end