A/N: This is a less explicit version of the story that I have posted on Ao3 (same username there- InfiniteSeahorse). I'd like to think I left something to the imagination here, but it's pretty clear that the second half of this story is about Ravio masturbating.
Ravio drummed his fingers impatiently on the sturdy wooden table he was sitting behind and heaved a sigh into the empty central space of the house he had remodeled into his shop. It had been four days since he last had a customer and, despite the signs he had posted about the realm, he wasn't sure how much attention his fledgling business was going to attract. He was committed to his new venture, however slow the going, and if he could just relax and get used to his new role as a merchant, he'd feel even better about coming to Hyrule in the first place.
He almost couldn't believe his good luck on the day he discovered his blond-haired doppelgänger passed out in the road as he was walking by, and then to find out that he had taken the guy to his very own house to recover, well, that couldn't have been a coincidence. Ravio was certain he was going to be put out on his merry way once the guy woke up, but to his surprise, his luck held out and Mr. Hero, as he'd taken to calling that generous soul, had let him stay in the house, rent free! Yes, life in this new land was turning out to be better than he expected, better than his meager planning accounted for, and it was only a matter of time until he was living large, rolling in rupees while the Hero of Hyrule solved two kingdoms' worth of problems...
He sighed again and looked around the room, his eyes resting briefly on each item presented for sale. Visions of rupees danced in front of his eyes as he imagined a steady stream of customers filing in and out of his shop, renting out his entire inventory, and leaving him with a fat sack of cash. Many different customers melded in his imagination into just one, a courageous young man recently come into riches by way of lucrative dungeon exploring, in desperate need of his wares, and so, so thankful that Ravio had put a one-stop shop in the most convenient place available.
It was awkward for Ravio to admit that Mr. Hero was a handsome man as well as a courageous one, given their uncanny resemblance to each other, but he had come to the conclusion not long after their first meeting that there was something attractive and compelling about him… and as it was a thought he came back to often, he was starting to suspect that he was not admiring him simply as a role model, either. Though only Ravio knew that their facial features were nearly identical, it was easy to see even from a distance that their bodies were shaped similarly. Fortunately, they had some physical differences as well, which helped lessen the feeling he had of staring into a mirror whenever he looked at the Hylian. Take their eye color for instance. Whereas Link's eyes were a calm greyish-blue, Ravio sported a pair of startlingly bright green irises. Yuga, that slimy, underhanded creep of a royal advisor, had often compared their hue to the most common and worthless rupees, but Ravio maintained that one, or two in the case of eyes, was better than none.
It was not in his nature to look at himself. Most of his life he had gone without a mirror, leaving it up to his mother (while she was still alive) to tell him when he needed to wash his face or brush his hair. Later, in the castle, it was nearly impossible to walk down a hallway or stand in a room without catching one's reflection in an ornately framed mirror installed under Yuga's orders, and as a result, he got into the habit of looking down at the ground as he walked. It never seemed to matter how neat his clothing was or how often he checked his appearance though, as Yuga always had a disparaging remark ready for him.
It was a relief when he came across the bunny hood at a second-hand merchant's stall in Thieves' Town. There was comfort in knowing that he could see others but not be truly seen himself. No one would be able tell just by looking at him what he was thinking and feeling anymore. No matter how hard he tried, he was terrible at hiding his emotions. It had endeared Princess Hilda to him, sure, but it was a liability he could do without.
Things like hair color and eye color were fine to compare and contrast, but Ravio felt uncomfortable thinking about the differences between his and Mr. Hero's personalities. Of course, it made a distressing amount of sense that those differences would run so deep, but it still hurt his spirit to realize that he was lacking what the other man possessed in abundance. It was obvious from what he'd noticed that Mr. Hero was superior in every way, from temperament to Triforce. That's why his nickname was Mr. Hero, after all.
Dust motes danced in the light of the single window by the front door. Ravio's leg bounced unconsciously, its vibrations carrying through the table to rattle the bombs in their bag sitting on its surface. The muffled clacking startled him. How long had he been sitting still, ruminating? How was it possible? It wasn't like him to remain in one place for long, as he preferred being in motion no matter what else he was doing. Pacing the room, dancing with Sheerow, or simply rocking on his heels as he stood by a table all felt more natural than sitting while he waited for customers to arrive. He felt...calm...wasn't the word. Living life constantly on edge was extremely wearing on the body and soul, and it would take more than living in a quiet house for a few weeks before he felt at ease. But something inside him had unkinked, relaxing slightly, and he felt more rested, grounded in a way that he couldn't quite place, and it translated into a new acceptance of his butt on the stool and his place as a speck in the world.
"Hey, Sheerow, do you wanna-" he turned to where his bird buddy usually perched, but the area was bare. "Huh, flew the coop, eh? Too good to work retail with your best friend, I see how it is." He gestured toward the open window, fingers mimicking the fluttering of wings. "Or maybe you had important bird business to attend to. I understand. I also have important...people...business to attend to, and it takes all my time and energy to..." He burst into laughter. "I'm only talking to myself and even I know I'm full of crap!" People business, sure, business he'd like to conduct with one particular person. He shook his head. There he went again. All his thoughts led back to Mr. Hero. Eventually it was all he thought about. An obsession, he supposed, but for good reason. Link was The Hero! Ravio had found him, maybe a little later than he planned to, and he was helping him right the world's wrongs! When Ravio had first teased a smile from Link's usually non-expressive face, he had replayed the scene in his mind for days until it had lost all meaning. Every word he said, even if it was just a grunt (and it was usually just a grunt), every moment of eye contact they shared, every minute they spent together in the shop was catalogued in Ravio's brain, ready to be reviewed and embellished upon in his more idle moments. Much of his time was comprised of idle moments.
He pushed himself away from the table and stood, stretching his back as a yawn filled his lungs. It must be nap time! That would explain why he had been sitting for so long, he was tired and was just now noticing it. Just a short nap was all he needed to replenish his energy, definitely no longer than an hour, it would never do to be snoring on the floor when a customer came strolling in through the door. A customer, fair of face, with wide blue eyes that gave away nothing. A customer who didn't talk much, but he didn't have to, Ravio could talk for the both of them. A customer...no. No more customers, only sleep. Halting his train of thought, he picked up an old quilt he had liberated from the back of a wardrobe, wrapped himself in it, and laid down on the plush rug in the middle of the floor. Though the quilt was musty from its period of disuse, it bothered him not a bit, and he swaddled cozily in the faint smell of someone else's family. He fell asleep nearly instantly.
Twenty minutes later Ravio awoke in his usual manner, immediately thrown into consciousness and biting back a scream. The time away from his homeland hadn't altered or quieted his deep fears, and he wondered if that would ever change. As he reacquainted himself with his surroundings, he discovered one thing that had changed, after all. A warm, unmistakeable sensation was asserting its presence from under several layers of his clothing, and a few thoughts ran through his mind as he caught up to what was happening below his belt. Amusement battled with irritation at his erection's bad timing, but the largest part of him welcomed his arousal. Back in Lorule, once he knew he couldn't stick around to see Princess Hilda's plan come to fruition, he had been a nervous wreck for what felt like an eternity, fixated solely on his survival and the details of his escape before he took the plunge and went through with his own plan. He couldn't recall the last time he felt properly excited, and it had been even longer since the last time he could appreciate it or do something about it. It was another signal that he had done the right thing, that his life was heading toward normalcy.
Stretching luxuriously in his quilted wrapper, he tensed the muscles in his legs, hoping to get the blood flowing elsewhere. After a few fruitless tries, he gave up. It simply wasn't working, and as he wasn't keen to waltz around the shop with an extra pointer showing off the merchandise, he would have to take a more hands-on approach.
Glancing around the house to assess its security, he gathered up the quilt, shuffled over to the door, and cracked it open to hang a sign on the handle that read:
~Closed~
~Sorry for the Inconvenience~
"This will have to do until I get a lock installed," he said to himself. Hyrule was such a peaceful kingdom, a land of plenty where neighbors did not steal from one another, and as he had no plans to ever leave his shop unattended, he had never considered the necessity of a lock before today.
Clutching the quilt tightly around his shoulders, he walked back through the room until he was behind a sales table and out of direct view of the front of the shop. He shrugged off the quilt as he sat down and leaned his weight against the crate that elevated the tabletop, then he kicked off his boots, rolled his robe up around his waist, and yanked at the drawstring holding his trousers up. Removing all his clothing was unnecessary, and taking off his bunny hood was not an option to entertain. If, by some chance, someone did happen to walk in and catch him by surprise, his secret would remain safe. Instead, he slipped his hands beneath his waistband and pushed his trousers and undershorts slowly off his hips, down his thighs, and past his knees, then finally he freed his ankles and removed his feet from the bunched up fabric. Giving his lower half some freedom made up for the enforced claustrophobia around his head, and he sighed happily, giving his toes a little wiggle in the still air.
The likelihood of anyone coming soon to rent a weapon was slim, and Mr. Hero rarely even came home to sleep or eat a meal. If nothing had happened in four days, what were the odds of anything happening now? The sign hanging on the door gave him extra reassurance. He could afford to take his time.
With his left hand he fluffed up the dark hair at his groin and spent some time twirling bits of it around his index finger to define the curls. Once he had tired of his restyling effort, his fingers crept lower, sure of their intention and ready to begin.
Ravio stuck his free hand up under his hood to twist his fingers into a lock of hair. The feel of his silken strands diverted his attention, reminding him of Mr. Hero's similarly styled gorgeous blond tresses. He cast about in his mind for something else to think about, a person, a scenario, a seductively carved bas-relief on the side of a temple he once visited, anything, but all that came to him was how the shape of Mr. Hero's lips changed when he perused the weapons display. Sometimes he bit his lower lip, the flash of teeth always catching Ravio's attention, and other times he stuck it out, silently pouting at…Ravio wasn't sure exactly, he never said why. It certainly couldn't be the extremely reasonable advertised prices that caused him to frown. Maybe the weight of the world was weighing heavily on his shoulders in those moments. Mr. Hero tended to linger over the magic rods each time he came into the shop, the glimmer of otherworldly power reflecting temptingly in his searching eyes, but ultimately he would select a different, more applicable tool to help him in his quest. Occasionally running a careful finger over an item, or so deep in thought that the tip of his tongue poked out the side of his mouth, from toes to ears, Link was always fascinating to watch as he made his choice. What Ravio wouldn't give to be on the receiving end of that discerning touch, to be taken from a pile of unwanted things and to be used...and there they were, laid bare like his anatomy, his true feelings toward the adventurer. Did he really want to think about his roommate that way? The tingling sensation running under his skin told him it was inevitable, because the more he pushed the thoughts away, the stronger and more insistently they came back. Well then, so be it. He would have to deal with this fixation like he was doing with the current situation. Thoroughly. Completely.
Aside from their superficial cosmetic differences, how physically identical were they? One of the first things he noticed about Mr. Hero was that they would be within an inch of each other in height— if Ravio removed his bulky hood with the ears that added inches to his slim frame. Knowing he wouldn't have to bend down or reach up to meet Mr. Hero's face if they kissed turned the simple reality of standing near his customer into a new temptation. Ravio took some time to imagine how those lips would change and feel as they pressed against his own, which led to thoughts of... He looked down at his fist and felt himself throb at the thought that their sizes might be similar in that regard. Would he ever see the evidence? He wanted to so badly, and as he allowed himself the possibility of wanting, an exhilarating variety of images bloomed in his mind, pushing away all other thoughts. Here was Mr. Hero laid out in all his golden glory on the rug beneath Ravio. There he was, bent over one of the tables, aching for Ravio's touch the way Ravio was beginning to accept that he wanted Mr. Hero's. The bed had been put back where it belonged, and they were putting it to good use, tangled together under the sheets. On a table again, face to face now, Ravio's buried himself deeply in—
He faltered. As tempting as those scenarios were, they weren't quite what he had in mind. Ravishing the hero sounded so, so delightful, but as he turned the thoughts over in his mind, he concluded that it was a fantasy (or, more hopefully, a reality) for another day. What excited him even more was the prospect of accepting some imagined attentions, and he knew just where he'd like Mr. Hero's attention to focus. He breathed deeply, his exhalations filling the enclosed space of his hood, and began anew.
While his knees moved back and forth a little with the rhythm of his movements, his imagination took control. How did the adventurer come to be between the merchant's legs? Maybe it didn't matter, or maybe... his idea coalesced over a few strokes...it was a matter of paying off a debt. A rash of bad luck could lead to an empty wallet, but fortunately Ravio was willing to accept alternate forms of payment, especially when it came from his favorite customer. What was most important was that he was licking his way up Ravio's thigh, and it was just this side of distracting. "Mr. Hero," he murmured, "please use your teeth. It tickles too much otherwise." He raked his nails along the inside of his leg and shivered.
Under the purple hood, his mouth hung open slightly, as if the weight of his lips was too much to overcome without conscious thought, and he drew his tongue over his teeth. He was suddenly aware of how smoothly his hot wet tongue slipped over his plump lips, and whispered, "Taste me, Mr. Hero, I'm ready for you." He added saliva to the fluids that were already coating his skin, and pumped his hand with increasing urgency. "What was that? It's hard to understand you when your mouth is full." He stilled his movements, taking a moment to calm down a little, then continued, speaking aloud, "Oh. You'd rather use your hand. I admit, I am a little disappointed, but I'll allow it, as this is your first time using this form of repayment. If you find yourself rupeeless again, I'll need your complete cooperation."
It was easy to imagine the other man's hands in place of his own, the skin rougher but no less gentle with its movements as he pumped and stroked and squeezed. "Oh," he gasped, "oh, Mr. Hero, how did you know, ah, that's just what I like..." Alternating between a soft caress and a firmer motion, he maintained a satisfying tempo with both hands as he dove into his fantasy.
"You've racked up quite a debt, Mr. Hero," he continued. "I understand the nature of the emergency, but I don't know if one session will be enough to clear it all, oh, unless you keep doing that...yes...You're so good at this, you're good at everything you do...truly, Hyrule is blessed with you as its hero, you're perfect, you're perfect...perfect!" As he rambled, he could almost feel the Hylian's hands on his body, thrilling his overheated skin, urging him to spread his legs wider.
"Yes, yes, mmm, just like that, haaa," he mumbled, beginning to slur his words as his attention drained from the flimsy narrative he was creating and focused instead on the building tension and pleasure coiling down below. "Do you see this, hero? Do you see what you are doing to me?" he spoke without thinking. The noises and bits of sentences he was spitting out did not surprise him, as he was chatty as a matter of course, but what about Link? Would he talk back, motivated by Ravio's commentary? At the very least, he'd have to make some sort of noise, he didn't seem like the silent type. Ravio thought back to the time he watched Mr. Hero practice his swordsmanship on the scarecrow in the front garden, and he twisted those shouts and grunts of effort into cries of pleasure, affirmation, and encouragement. His throat was tightening with effort and desire, and he choked out, "This could have been a simple transaction, but based on the noises you're making, I think you're enjoying this just as much as I am!"
With his pulse pounding in his ears and shortened breaths muffled by his hood, Ravio realized he wouldn't need any more time to himself after all, he could feel his entire body tightening like a bow string, primed for a few more strokes to send him over the edge.
Faster, faster now, no time to think, he was lost in the pleasure coursing through his body and the knowledge that if he kept it up a little longer, he'd be, he'd be... He moaned involuntarily, the sound spilling from his lips as he imagined the final look of satisfaction on Mr. Hero's face. The toes on one of his feet curled, gripping the quilt, while his other toes splayed against the edge of the rug. Panting a little as he relaxed, he looked down at the aftermath and breathed out a laugh. With no real foresight on his part, he had managed to aim upwards and toward his chest, right into his scarf. "At least that'll be easy to clean!" he said as he carefully unwound the knitted accessory from his neck, giving his nether regions a cursory swipe before balling the fabric up and throwing it in the nearest corner, where it joined a growing pile of discarded towels and soiled items of clothing. He'd have to do the laundry tomorrow, he realized.
There were still several hours left of daylight, plenty of time to make a sale, though now Ravio was seriously considering just leaving the sign on the door up until his usual closing time (promptly at sunset— he couldn't stand the thought of the door opening to the darkness of the world at night) and succumbing to the urge to take another, much longer, nap.
Reality came rushing back for good when he thought about how long it had been since he last saw Sheerow. His feathered assistant was never gone for long, and when he came back he'd most likely be carrying the rental weapons he'd taken from Mr. Hero. If that happened, the adventurer usually followed a few minutes to hours later, depending on the state of his wallet. Ravio suddenly hoped for an empty wallet and full bottles of fairies, because no matter what his fantasies told him otherwise, he really didn't know what he would do if Mr. Hero came into the shop now. Or within the next week, really. There was no mask ever made, or amount of clothing layered to conceal, that could hide the awkwardness that he knew he would be radiating before he had the time to mentally process his feelings. He got dressed anyway, hurriedly jamming his feet into his boots while keeping one eye on the window Sheerow used as an entryway. A thin tendril of resolution rose in his chest as he made his way to the front of the shop. His job wouldn't end today just because he wanted it to. Ravio wouldn't take the coward's way out this time.
