Work Text:
fate is inevitable, Ororon is very aware of that. it didn't make the pain sting any less, and it didn't make the loss feel any less heartbreaking.
celebrations, drinks, and laughter. all things he wished he could participate in with earnest. but the emptiness in his chest made every attempt feel insincere. He can't laugh without the tears stinging at his eyes, or enjoy his drink without the looming threat of his composure slipping.
So he slips away from the crowds, back to his little place, away from the noise. Away from the happiness that he simply can't endure.
Everyone gained something today, whether it's freedom from the relentless war, or honor from the fights. Except him.
He undresses, still holding on to any strength he has. A warm shower, and a moment to collect himself is in need.
He avoids his room, there is no point in going there yet. He knows he has to sooner or later, but for now it's easier to slip into the tub and let the warm water relax his muscles than to make any decisions.
He doesn't do much, The water makes the tears hurt less.
Ororon stalls as much as possible, his skin pruning, the water getting colder, and his breathing quickens.
He doesn't know if it's the guilt, or the loss that hurts more.
He knows that what Capitano did was for the greater good, and he deserves to rest. Even if it's at the expense of being left behind.
But it doesn't stop the thoughts, the wishes that he didn't from swirling in the back of his head.
He gets out of the tub and lets the now cold-water drain.
The more he dwells on these thoughts the more they take root. And he knows its best to not entertain them.
He dries his hair, the steam subsiding, and he looks the same, there is no physical indicator that he could blame for the pain he was in.
It would hurt less if he had been injured in battle.
He pushed himself to open the bedroom door, the sooner he faces it the faster he can find a way to settle back into a new normal. A normal that he doesn't know yet.
He tries to ignore the coat hanging on the side of his bedpost, Capitano left it there the last time he visited, the last time he would ever visit.
Rolling on the bed, facing away from the side the coat is on.
The bed feels awfully big, and as much as he curls, he can't get over the memories of being squished against a much bigger body just a couple of nights ago. The bed then felt too small, like there wasn't enough space for them both.
Unlike now.
His ears droop, his throat tightening. He knows if he just cries it out it will be better. But crying feels like acceptance and he is not ready for that yet.
His eyes close, and his breathing calms, sleep is easy to come by.
—
Capitano is not the most talkative person, but the low grunts he makes when Ororon manages to take almost half of his cock down his throat are music to the little bat's ears.
It's exciting, and dangerously addictive.
Ororon makes it his mission to hear as much of the older’s voice.
And he succeeds on multiple occasions,
The first time he manages to take the captain fully inside him, Ororon’s mind is too hazy but the deep moan that he gets from other is seared into his subconscious.
He could have died happy at that moment, if only he did.
The time he managed the convince the captain to pull his mask up, just enough to kiss him, drown in his voice as the older takes him apart, fucks him senseless and as good as that felt, feeling the vibrations through the feverish kisses was better.
And the last time, when his pleas were finally heard, and Capitano finally indulged him. Taking off all of his clothes and allowing the bat to ogle at him like his life depended on memorising every inch of his skin.
Colored eyes, and a warm expression that made Ororon lose all sense of rationality.
Every quiet moan was accompanied by a blissful expression that radiated pleasure and warmth.
If he had any doubts, at that moment Ororon knew he was far too deep, too in love, too used the gentle pampering that the captain offered him.
Every kiss felt honest, and every little action affirmed his affection.
Everything with the captain felt good.
—
Ororon stirs, he should have known his dreams won't be an escape, the memories flooded his brain, every interaction, every gentle look Capitano gave him in private, every bit of pleasure they shared.
His eyes flutter open, his body warm, and it smells awfully like the captain is right next to him.
He is wrapped in the coat, bundled up and safe.
His cheeks are wet, and he is painfully hard.
The scent is strong and he halfheartedly thinks that's the most comfort he would get.
Soon the scent will dissipate, leaving nothing to remind him of the captain.
His hand makes its way down to his length, and the little spark makes him tense.
Ororon strokes himself, but it doesn't feel enough, his hand slips lower, rubbing his empty hole. It's the sleep mixed with the strong scent that makes his head empty enough to indulge himself. It's not too difficult to think of the captain's large hands on his waist, icy blue eyes looking at him with pure lust, and soft words of praise.
Hands ghosting over his length, and kisses peppered all over his back.
It wasn't the same, but the weight of the coat on him was just enough to push him over the edge.
The relief is fleeting, and his tears fall in fat thick droplets over his face.
He curls into himself, wrapping the coat around as tightly as he could. There was no changing it, no fixing it. And it was for the best. For the greater good.
Sleep eventually takes him over, the soft hiccupping evens out and he is lulled into memories he wishes he could forget.
He wonders how it would have played out if things ended differently, would he stay here? Would he take him with him? Or would he leave him behind?
—
Ororons ears flicker as he wakes up, his face squished against the older’s chest.
Capitano was already awake, but unmoving. Ororon knows that it's to keep him asleep for as much as possible, the hand thumping gently on his thigh is evidence enough.
His body was pleasantly sore, but the gentle heat radiating from the captain was enticing still, and Ororon was spoiled if anything.
He climbs atop the man, blue eyes locked into his.
Capitano’s hands move to hold his waist and Ororon’s ears perk up.
They still have time, he could squeeze a little more from the older before he has to leave for the day.
Ororon leans down and kisses around capitano’s face, the hardened skin, forcibly decayed by the curse, still very pleasant under his lips.
“Morning.”
Capitano doesn't respond but one of his hands moves to cup the flesh of his ass, and he knows the captain is having a good morning as well.
The kiss is lazy but satisfying, and the growing hardon against his thigh is a sign that Capitano also concluded that they have enough time for a bit of morning sex.
Ororon breaks away, Capitano wasn't fully hard yet but he knows it won't take long inside him to get there.
He lines himself against the length and slowly dips, his hole still comfortably loose, enough to allow him to skip any preparations.
He was still sore, the stretch uncomfortable, but once his ass sits flush against the captain's thighs, the pleasure outweighs the soreness.
The first few thrusts are lazy, Ororon still dozed off and weak. Which is how it always is.
He gets both worked up and then loses steam, and Capitano ends up doing the majority of the work.
It doesn't bother the older though, as he always seems content with fucking Ororon until the younger taps out.
Ororon gives up, slumping against the older and letting him take the lead.
Capitano flips him under and onto his face, the manhandling is enough to get Ororon moaning softly.
A shame he can’t see the captain's face, but the groan that hears is enough to keep his mind occupied.
The full weight of the older is on him, and it's difficult to breathe, but it's comforting and Ororon wouldn't have it any other way.
Every thrust pushes the air out of his lungs, and the spark that flies through his spine to his head makes him hazy.
There is no need to think much when he is pinned under the captain, just enjoying the intimacy is enough.
The whines and moans that slip his mouth don't really register in his brain, but the low grunts he hears edge him, if only the captain was generous with his voice as he is with everything else.
It doesn't take long for the bat to come undone, legs shaking and whatever voice he lets out ears him a gentle ear rub.
The pleasure is blinding, and it teeters deliciously on the edge of overstimulation, but the captain doesn't stop, and Ororon doesn't want him to. Even when his body pulls away, the firm hands on his hips keep him place. And it feels like he is stuck in an eternal purgatory where it's too good to tap out but too much for him to handle.
Capitano doesn't torture him for long, it's only a couple of minutes before he stills, and Ororon feels the cock in him pulse, the hot jets of cum filling him up.
Capitano pulls out of him slowly, but it's not slow enough to keep his fried nerves from firing.
Gentle kisses wipe his tears away, and Ororon reaches out to squish his face against the older’s.
They were connected a second ago, but Ororon's neediness knows no bounds. He needs to get as much of the older before he has to get up to shower and get dressed.
Ororon can afford to be late, the captain cannot.
Eventually Capitano pulls away, and Ororon flops back onto the bed. Its cold and he is empty, and the thought of always being fucked into a blissful state of existence every morning crosses his mind.
It would be very pleasant. Just having the little moments they share become a routine, like picking his vegetables, tending to his garden, and cooking dinner.
He hears the shower turn on, and Ororon rolls off the bed, he is sweaty, sticky and he doesn't know just how much cum is in him, and the soreness in his ass will make sure sitting is uncomfortable for the rest of the day.
Capitano is out of the shower, and Ororon wobbles to take his turn under the hot water, Capitano has been using his soap and there is a soft scent of familiarity on him.
The hot water relaxes his muscles and Ororon scrubs his body clean, sex is nice, smelling like it isn't.
By the time he gets out, Capitano is almost fully dressed, Ororon gets a couple kisses in before the older puts his mask on.
He dries his hair and the captain leaves, the door closing shut makes his lips curl down.
—
The next time Ororon opens his eyes, it's almost midday. He makes his way out of the bundle of coat and sheets, a quick shower is in order but his feet drag, he doesn't want to see his reflection, see the puffy eyes from the tears, and the expression he has on.
He gets in the shower anyway.
He gets dressed and heads out, the eerie silence is a little overwhelming, but he knows that most ended up celebrating late into the night, so it's to be expected. He tends to the garden, following his routine, pick what needs to be picked, clean what needs to be cleaned, and cook something that will hopefully last a couple of days.
By the time he is done, the night has fallen again, though he doesn't feel any sleep coming to him.
He knows he shouldn't but his feet move, and he ends up near the throne again, it takes him a while to get there, and he keeps thinking that he should turn back but none of that slows his pace down.
He ends up sitting in front of the throne, cheek resting on the captain’s thigh. Eyes locked on the mask.
The fabric is cold under his face, and he wonders if he speaks, would he hear him? Or is he somewhere else? He knows he isn't dead, but is this any different? Is he resting? Ororon hopes so.
He doesn't know how long he stays there, but a rustle of feet pulls him back from his thoughts.
Just close enough to see a red and black figure, he gets close but doesn't cross the steps.
Ororon gets up, the agent is looking his way, and he is holding something with both hands.
The bat gets closer, and sure enough, the agent has two bottles of sorts.
He is close enough now, and Ororon doesn't know if he should say anything, his throat is tight and his lips are quivering.
“We cleared some of our camps.”
The agent extends the bottles, they are perfume.
One is new and unopened, the other is half used and has its cap missing.
Before Ororon can ask what they are, the agent leaves.
He is confused for a second, but a little spritz from the open bottle, and the tears he was holding back fall freely.
It smells so much like him.
The bottles are unmarked, there is no way of knowing what perfume it is.
But it has a soft scent of flowers underneath a layer of smoke.
It's like someone burned flowers with fragrant wood.
He gets too preoccupied with perfume to register how odd that interaction was.
He knew that their little interactions were not the most secretive, not when Capitano was leaving his place every other night.
Kindness is always appreciated, and he doesn't know who the agent is, but this gesture of condolences makes his heart flutter.
He will eventually forget his voice, his touch, and the gentle words of encouragement as time goes on. Such is the nature of time. But he will never forget what he smelled like, and that's enough.
Ororon walks back to the throne, offering a little spray of the perfume to the middle of the captain's chest, the fur most likely absorbing most of it.
He sits again, his face squished to the cold fabric, with his eyes closed, the smell travels around him, and it feels like he is there again.
That's enough.
