After spending multiple nights in a row fighting demons in Naraku, who wouldn't want to get a drink? Once he emerged victorious from a challenge quest, Walter wanted nothing more than to wrap his fingers around a cool, frothy mug of alcohol. A few drinks at K's Tavern wouldn't hurt him. Instead, drinking was quite relaxing when done with the right people. His usual crowd consisted of K the Bartender, plenty of boastful senior Samurai, snobby Luxurors and a rambunctious gang of Casualries who wouldn't hesitate to start a fight if they were bumped into. Nights at K's Tavern were always lively, would end in fights and each Samurai sharing stories of why they despised Hugo and the Monastery.
Surprisingly, Flynn, his fellow Prentice, decided to join along in Walter's drinking adventure. Flynn was his usual lightweight self, but it was always amusing to see him take off his pants in front of a jeering crowd before passing out on a stool at the bar. The kid was capable of having no shame, and Walter secretly admired him for that. K offered to keep a close eye on Flynn, that way Walter didn't have to worry about his drinking being interrupted. This was confirmed when K shook his head at an older Samurai who attempted to rouse the drunken ravenette, staring him down as the scissors on his prosthetic arm began to move. Though, once Walter's drunken ambition was satisfied, he gave a drunken wave to the Samurai before escaping the bar scene.
His breath fogged the air as he stepped out into the Aquila Stone Plaza. He then took the moment to stretch before kicking at a loose stone in the middle of the path. The blue samurai wasn't phased by the chill, nor the aura that always seemed to form around the entrance to Naraku underneath the King Aquila statue. It could have been his imagination playing tricks on his drunken state, but he began to feel drawn to that familiar stronghold. He thought for a moment before shaking his head with a breathy chuckle. Instead of stumbling blindly toward those creaking doors, he settled for the direction of the Samurai Barracks.
Funny how a few drinks could make a man's thoughts wonder. When was the last time he enjoyed the company of another person? Maybe it was one of the girls from the village. Maybe? Hell, he could barely remember the last drink he had ordered from the Tavern. His head was so damn fuzzy and it was a miracle he managed to make it into the Barracks. Flynn had to leave a little earlier than he did, but Walter stayed because he was challenged to a drinking contest. The contest ended in his favor, and thinking back on it brought the widest grin to his face as he stumbled toward the Barracks.
It was normally quiet during this hour in the Stone Plaza. The buzz of the bar seemed like a blur as he turned his attention heavenward. Clear skies and enough to make his head spin. Walter murmured a quick swear as he started to stumble, standing still long enough to notice how close he was to the entryway. Honestly, how long had it been? Must have been longer than a few months since most of his sexual frustration was released through killing demons and drinking. As he continued onward he started to consider his options. Most of the women in Mikado Castle were Luxurors, and having a fling with a Luxuror gal was dangerous territory in his mind. Maybe a Casualry girl? Then again, those districts were further away. It was then that he had a sudden thought.
"Hoy," Walter paused as he began to acknowledge the Gauntlet on his arm. "Burroughs?"
"Yes, Master Walter?"
Walter than paused to learn against the wall near the door to his bed chamber. How many damn drinks did he have again? He tried counting in his head but couldn't get passed the third drink. The Samurai then decided to laugh a bit while the AI asked if he were okay.
"I'm fine. Anyways," he paused to reflect on his actual question. "Is Walter in his room?"
The Burroughs unit seemed to hesitate before replying. "I have just finished checking the Burroughs network. Master Jonathan's Burroughs has notified me that he is, indeed, in his room. May I ask why?"
That was all he needed to know. A devilish grim coated his wasted face as he turned off his Gauntlet and continued his voyage to the room further down and to the left. It wasn't much longer until his face was pressed against the door to the yellow samurai's room, fist lightly balled to rasp his knuckles against the surface. He could hear the faint shuffle of a quilt moving and the hesitant steps moving closer toward the door.
"It's late. Who goes there?" But the voice was only answered with slower knocks followed by a quick, 'Hoy!'
"Oh, Walter," Jonathan began as he slowly opened his door, to which Walter had removed his face. From what Walter could see, Jonathan was merely wearing a button up night shirt and loose trousers to escape the growing chill. The only light in his room belonged to that of a candle on the desk lingering further behind the curly haired figure. After a brief examine from head to toe and a quiet sniff, the yellow Samurai grimaced.
"You've shared a drink at the tavern, haven't you?"
Walter could only chuckle at this, squinting his eyes as his alcoholic breath seemed to displease his fellow Prentice. "It wasn't a mere drink," he then laughed as he brushed against the other, shoulder to shoulder and ignoring Jonathan's irritated scoff to get in. "Try counting on your fingers and I'll probably stop you."
But Jonathan wouldn't count. He's seen the fool getting drunk before and would leave before fisticuffs came out. His prayers seemed to be unanswered as Walter walked over to his desk and casually took a seat on the wooden chair. This man who had fought by his side, now a drunken stupor from the devil's liquor. The curly haired male quietly peeked out into the hall, making sure no one had followed the other before closing and locking the door with a sigh.
"Walter, visiting at this hour is unacceptable."
Jonathan opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it. It was sometimes hard to match Walter's quick wit at times, especially once he had his share of mead and wine. "This isn't about my decision, it's about yours." The curly haired man sternly responded while Walter began to remove the blue scarf from around his neck. "Besides," Jonathan continued as he moved over to adjust the curtains covering the window beside the desk, "you might break something in the hall."
"Glad to see that you still care." Walter half mumbled, half yawned as he slouched to get comfortable in the chair.
"It's natural for one to care about their companions." Jonathan answered, turning and shuffling briskly over to the side of his bed. "Besides, you are not of stable mind. Someone has to care for you right now."
Walter couldn't help but smirk at what he had just heard. Did Jonathan not understand the implications of care at this point? A drunken man with too much on his mind, and the opportunity to bed the person next to him. Jonathan could be patient. Despite his roughish behavior, he could be quiet patient if not manipulative. "Then let me use your bed for the night. Mine is further down the hall."
It wouldn't have been the first time they shared the same sleeping space. On missions they would often sleep on the same pallet with Flynn, while Isabeau kept to herself. The difference between now and then was that Flynn was not the divider between them. Walter was slightly surprised when Jonathan didn't reject, but figured it would have been out of the goodness of his religious heart. Jonathan kept his back to the other, arms wrapped around himself underneath the covers while Walter lay on top of them on his back. The silence between them was enough to make the blue samurai twitch.
"Hoy," He began, shifting with a slightly frustrated and glossy gaze as he tried to sit up.
"Go to sleep." Jonathan curtly responded with closed eyes, quickly opening as he was roughly turned onto his side to see the additional weight above him. Walter had managed to straddled the covered samurai, trying to focus as his hands grasped at his wrists while leaning in.
"W-Walter," the yellow samurai managed, moving his head just enough to catch his breath. Walter used this opportunity to trail his lips down the crook of his neck, drawing out a sudden gasp. "Th-This is most unnatural!"
Walter gave an irritated groan at what he had heard. He lifted his head to look down at the mess he had created beneath him. Jonathan's breathing had become slightly labored, the bed covers became peeled with their struggle, his cheeks were turning a light shade of red and a few buttons of his nightshirt were undone. "Yet you are still here, kissing me and-"
"Because this is my room!" Jonathan quickly retorted while casting his gaze off to the side. "Besides, you said you wanted to sleep."
The throbbing in his head was telling him to stop, but the overwhelming sensation down south was causing him to resist. Lust was wrong in Jonathan's opinion, but Walter wanted nothing more than to mark every possible inch of the yellow Samurai. To have him calling out his name from the same mouth that regularly worshiped a higher deity. To stain those lips with his sinful, drunken desires. Beautiful was rarely a word that Walter used, but how would he describe the sight before him? Jonathan wasn't entirely feminine, physically, but Walter craved every curve his body had to offer.
"Keep it down, okay?"
Surprisingly, Walter found Jonathan to be cooperative and obedient for the most part. His responses to Walter's touch were quiet and measured. His body arching as articles of clothing were removed and hastily tossed in either direction. Walter was slow, something that Jonathan was grateful for. Had their movement progressed any faster he would have become hesitant. By the time they were fully exposed Jonathan was out of breath, light headed, and tasting mead on his tongue. They barely said a word, and Jonathan gave most of the control to Walter. But Walter wasn't a fool. Drunk, yes, but not a complete fool. Before his lips moved further down and past the other's navel, he slowly cast a glance at Jonathan.
"Can I keep going?"
Why would he ask at time like this? Jonathan tried to catch his breath as he propped himself up on his elbows. If memory served him correctly, Walter was asking for permission. Jonathan could have easily admit that this was something he found himself thinking about from time to time, but how would he explain when they were already fully aware of each other's arousal? Sex before marriage was frowned upon, which is why he never revealed his thoughts during confessional, but Walter piqued his curiosity shortly after they met.
When Jonathan didn't answer Walter released another irritated groan. "Listen, I'm giving you the chance to answer me. Stop me if you want."
"Do what you will with me," the yellow samurai quickly blurted. Once he was momentarily composed he murmured, "For I don't mind, Walter. But make haste. Anyone could hear if we carry on for much longer..."
Walter was happy to oblige of the other was thoroughly prepared. Jonathan's hands coiled around to firmly press his palm's against the blue samurai's shoulder blade, curling his fingers as every thrust elicited a generous moan. Walter was more than willing to increase the volume of those moans with harder movements, easing a bit to pull out slowly before gliding in once more. One broad hand trailed down to the small of Jonathan's back to pull him closer while his mouth gave attention to exposed areas of his neck and chest.
"My name, Jonathan." Walter ordered gruffly into the other's ear.
It took a few strokes against a particular bundle of nerve to get the desired effect, and it sounded just as sweet as Walter imagined. A lewd angel singing a song of pleasure, repeating Walter's name with each pelvic moment. It wasn't long before their movements became erratic from shifting positions on the bed. Jonathan let years of imagination guide him. Walter giving Jonathan control as the other mounted him while he lie on his back. Jonathan was a natural in Walter's mind, but telling him that then would have broken his concentration.
When Jonathan awoke the next morning he was mildly surprised to find Walter sleeping next to him. The night had mostly been a blur, but the ache in his body reminded him that something happened. Another surprise came in the form of Walter's arms being wrapped around him with is back pressed against his chest. As Jonathan began to stir, Walter's grip tightened, releasing a tired chuckle from the yellow samurai as the back of his neck was nuzzled. This glimpse of next day affection was something Jonathan thought he could get used to, even if it was only for one night.