Enjoy!
...
M'ort sighed as he relaxed, the hot water washing away the aches and pains of yet another bout in the hell hole other adventurers had affectionately called 'World of Darkness'. It seemed a fair enough run to him... when other adventurers pulled their weight. Sadly though, time and experience had taught him that that was not always the case. This had been one of those times.
Would it have killed the man tanking the other party to pay attention? He chuckled to himself, well it did kill him so he had to give the man points. Thank the twelve for the white mage pulling the raid back from the brink. A good healer was rare to find, and it seemed they had uncovered buried treasure that battle.
His musings were pulled from his head when he noticed a bloodied figure standing beside him. He blinked, and tucked his hair behind his ear. "G'ray," he nodded, taking in the younger man's dour expression, "is everything alright?"
G'ray seemed tired, the markings around his eyes only serving to highlight the darkened circles beneath them. "I suppose, is Ihma anywhere?"
"She's out, something about Broken Goddess bullying her into another hunt."
"She hates those." The silver haired mi'quote frowned.
"I know but you know how persuasive Broken can be."
"I know how nagging she can be." M'ort was sure he could see the trace of a smile on the younger man's lips. "Well how about Nerys? Aki? Alyss?"
M'ort shook his head.
"Twelve dammit, any healers around?"
"There's no one here but me...G'ray, what's the matter?"
The young man gave an aggravated sigh. "The matter is that I have bruises in places I blush to mention, my armour is battered and I'm fairly certain my sword will break if I even so much as think about cutting butter."
M'ort could empathise. "Take off your armour and get in here. Relax a little, I'm sure we'll find a healer if we just wait it out."
G'ray smirked. "I suppose if I'm going to find one of them, it's going to be in a hot tub." The smile was short lived however, as the man raised his arm to unhook his breastplate. His breath hitched and his arm dropped. He looked to the blue-haired mi'quote... with what M'ort was sure was a blush across his cheeks... "Well... this is awkward."
"Injured arm?"
"Can't unstrap my armour."
"Well I'll help you." M'ort stood, the cold air a stark difference to the warm of the water.
"Um... it's ok. I'll just sit upstairs. Sorry for disturbing you."
"Don't be ridiculous. What's the problem?"
The increasing intensity of G'ray's blush and his lowered gaze told M'ort all he needed to know. "Why are you embarrassed? The amount of times I've had to..."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Well that seems like a sound reason." The monk chuckled, stepping out of the tub. "But grow up, we're both men, we both have bodies, I'm sure you'll survive the ordeal of me helping you with your armour."
"If it's all the same to you..."
"G'ray." The blue haired mi'quote admonished. He may only have been a few years older, but he had mastered a certain stern tone. He supposed he had picked it up from Ihma. "Let me help." Without waiting for an answer M'ort's bruised knuckles found the straps of G'rays armour and got to work. Within minutes the breastplate clattered to the floor and the silver haired mi'quote sighed with relief. "Now for the trousers."
G'rays already tinted cheeks turned scarlet. "M'ort..."
"You'll rust your damn armour if you sit in a hot tub with those on." He didn't wait for excuses and dislodged the heavy belt that surrounded G'rays hips.
"M'ort I can get the rest. It's only the right arm that's out of action. If you could help with the greaves though..."
M'ort smiled. It was good to see the younger man at ease, but he couldn't help but grimace at the dark bruises and deep cuts that covered the man's toned torso.
Once the armour was removed, M'ort guided him gently to the tub. It was a mixture of pain and relief that crossed the paladin's face as he sat down, it took G'ray a few minutes to truly relax into the soothing water.
"So what happened?" The monk queried.
"Steps of Faith happened."
"Ah."
"It's wasn't so bad... except an idiot hit me with the damn cannon instead of the dragon. Hence this..." He turned awkwardly to reveal a dark, mottled, and bloodied bruise that took up most of his back.
M'ort couldn't hide the grimace. "I did wonder about that." He pulled the light scarf from his neck and pushed it into the water. "Come here, I'll clean it out."
"M'ort..."
"G'ray." The monk countered, in a tone that clearly told the young paladin that he wasn't asking.
As he set to work, M'ort couldn't help but notice the strong tone of G'ray's back. The man winced occasionally, but managed not to curse, the only indication of any pain the sharp hisses as breath rattled between his teeth. Yet as the monk continued with his work, his attention was drawn to a particularly dark spot. He cleansed the cloth and applied it gently. Not gently enough, however, as the young paladin's body jolted in agony, and he could not hide his pain.
"Senpai, not there please." He choked back the tears.
"You'll face down a dragon but not a wash cloth?"
"This is different."
"Should I find you something to bite down on?" M'ort teased playfully, reapplying the fabric with more pressure than before.
The curses came thick and fast, it took a few moments for G'ray to accept the pain and relax slightly. "You are cruel to me, Senpai."
"You'd rather Zallen was doing it?"
"He'd be kissing it better, not torturing me."
"Are kisses what you want?"
The younger mi'quote's hesitance to answer made M'ort take pause. He had touched a nerve, he could tell that much, and not just in the man's back. "I'm sorry G'ray, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."
"I already felt uncomfortable. There must be fifty shades of bruises on my body."
"Fifty shades of grey."
"Cute..."
"I try."
"Like that time you used Last Bastion for..."
"I thought someone might die!" He defended, though it was impossible to hide the smirk from his laughing companion.
"Oh really?" G'ray chuckled.
"Want me to poke your back harder?"
"I believe there was mention of kissing?"
It was M'ort's turn to feel a strange heat behind his cheeks as the other man twisted to face him. Being bashful wasn't something the monk was used to, but there was something about the way the paladin looked at him that made him feel...
He leaned closer, his head slightly tilted. He felt G'ray's breath as their faces inched ever closer... their lips touched...
There was a light, and suddenly their moment was stolen, as fleeting as secret kisses. Now that the population of the room had increased by four.
"Twelve's sake, Thorn..."
"Fu." Ihma corrected, playfully punching Broken's arm.
"Actually it's Dai, now." The Hyur smirked, throwing his arm warmly around his fiancée's shoulders.
"You change your name so often you're giving me an identity crisis." The white haired healer grumbled. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of their companions. "G'ray! What happened?"
"Nothing..." The paladin answered, a furious blush sweeping across his cheeks, doing his best to distance himself from his blue-haired companion.
"You manifest bruises at will now then? Most people wait to get beaten up." Ahri chuckled.
"Oh. Steps of Faith happened."
"Then why are you blushing?"
"Well nothing happened yet."