Work Text:
‘…you might have pronounced your part of the summoning wrong?!’ Kayneth repeated, only barely managing to refrain from shouting because it was Sola he was talking to. If it was anybody else, they might have already found themselves drowning in a pit of lava by now for that simple mistake.
‘It seems so, master, when I fought with Saber with my noble phantasm, it felt like I was running low on my mana supply.’
‘AND YOU DIDN’T BOTHER TELLING ME SOONER IDIOT?!’
Lancer winced, as he should have, hanging his head in a somehow insufficient gesture of submission.
‘I apologise master. I have full trust in your abilities and I knew it was impossible your incantation was wrong.’
‘It was perfect. It also had me as the priority provider of the mana, didn’t it?!’ Kayneth turned to Sola with bitterness in his voice. For once, she stayed completely silent, jaw set, as she watched him pace around their hotel room.
‘Which line?’
‘The… 13th…?’ he let out a load pained groan.
‘I’ll have to make an entirely new set of incantations just so he’d stop relying on your mana.’
‘It won’t pose a challenge to your magical genius.’ Sola said sweetly, choosing the moment to approach him and lay one hand on his shoulder.
Kayneth didn’t even seem to react to the praise. He collapsed onto a chair and hastily scribbled down his altered summoning spell. He stared at it for a while, lost in thought, before he let out another groan, leaning his forehead on one of his hands as if his head might fall down any second.
‘I’ll have to start with a mana transfer.’
Sola froze. She looked over to Lancer, who was still standing there fully materialised.
‘Leave it to me, I caused this and I’ll-‘
‘He’s already feeding off your mana Sola, what do you think that would change?!’
‘Then think of something else!’ she bit back angrily.
‘I don’t exactly happen to have a Philosopher’s stone on me! I’d normally start the summoning all over again but Grail doesn’t allow that.’
‘Is that what you’re going with?!’
‘It is my only option right now, our only option if we want to have a fighting chance.’
‘Then, I'll be leaving.’ with a face devoid of any emotion, Sola stood up, pushing away from the table.
Frowning, Kayneth watched her as she put on her boots and coat, not bothering to look him in the eye. He hated letting her go, especially with the Holy Grail War going on, but it was absurd to make her stay in such a situation. She left the apartment, the door slamming behind her.
Lancer looked at him questioningly.
'What happens now, master?' he asked, still holding his spears.
'Did the Holy Grail not implant any information about it into you?'
'Yes, it did.'
Even with that answer, he still stood there, looking at him hesitantly. The fact that his master didn't make a single move from where he was seated only added to those insecurities.
'Here...?' he asked, eyes darting around the room.
'Of course not!' Kayneth said sharply, reluctantly getting up. His voice came out clear, but his expression betrayed his anxiousness. It wasn't as if he hasn't connected to his familiars before, but that was through blood only. With other mages or even beings such as Heroic spirits, the conditions were entirely different. Still, he felt ashamed that he'd be put off by something that was still a part of the magi teachings, no matter how obsolete and... crude it seemed to him.
Walking slow, he opened the doors to the bedroom. It was a spacious room with one king-sized bed, two bedside tables and a big wardrobe just opposite them. The room where he's slept with his wife ever since they left London.
Frowning, he sat down on the edge of the bed. He could already feel his skin crawling with disgust at what he was supposed to do.
Lancer walked around the room as if he was a burglar who just broke in, surveying the shelves and rummaging through the drawers.
Kayneth glared at him, opening his mouth to complain about the breach of his privacy before the spirit turned to face him, showing him the small white container in his hands.
'It's hand cream.' he said, matter-of fact.
'I know.' the mage sighed, trying not to remember the last occasion when he saw Sola massaging it into her hands. It smelled something like coconuts.
He did consider sharing mana by blood from a deep cut. Still, it was too valuable, he couldn't afford to lose a single drop, not when he had six other masters to fight. He found himself sighing again.
'Are you alright, master?' lancer asked, his deep voice worried.
'Does it seem that way?! I altered the summoning just so there would be no problems with mana supply. How ridiculous.'
'I'm sure that there will be no problems afterwards, maybe it on-'
'What do you know about spells exactly?!' Kayneth interrupted him angrily. The last thing he needed in this pitiful situation would be for his familiar to try and lecture him.
'We're wasting time.' he said coldly. With a face devoid of expression, he started unbuttoning his suit. His hands were slow and his grasp weak as if his fingers were swollen. On the edge of his peripheral vision, he could see a flash as Lancer dissolved his clothes with one thought.
He sat down next to him, only making everything slower. Kayneth could feel him watching as he failed a simple everyday task. Finally, he removed his blue top coat, throwing it at a drawer.
'Master, do you-'
'No.' he cut him off again. To even think that somebody thought he'd need help with taking off his clothes was utterly humiliating.
Lancer sat still yet he occupied the space in such a gracious matter he seemed more like a king seated on a throne in his ermine coat, rather than a naked man. His self-assurance or maybe just a lack of shame in such a state was beyond remarkable.
Making sure to avoid looking his way, Kayneth went on with his task with eyes digging into the parquets. Despite the heating in the building, his bare chest felt like it was about to freeze.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally removed his last piece of clothing. There was a warm hand grabbing his forearm.
He turned around, struggling and failing to look his servant in the eye.
Only ever judging everyone based on their aptitude for magecraft and their bloodline, he found himself shocked by the actual obvious difference between them. Physically, he was simply inferior to him in every way. From the few seconds that his eyes darted in his direction, he could easily understand that.
Just a shade darker, lancer's skin was stretched over a cascade of muscles, bulging out in a perfectly symmetrical pattern. Still, there was no rigidity in them and like snake scales, they snugly fit together, making every motion a spectacle.
As a magus, Kayneth would have just scoffed at the display any other time. Physical force was unparalleled to the spiritual and any such existence relying on it was meagre and laughable.
Except that Kayneth was in no mood to laugh now. Hands hiding between his legs, he's never been more ashamed of himself. The body that's only ever gotten him blessings seemed so worthless at the moment. He never wanted more from it than to keep up with the other mages in fight. It worked just as a box for magic circuits.
With some morbid fascination similar to poking at a rotten tooth, he found his eyes returning to lancer, only to feel more and more embarrassed with himself.
'Will you lie down?' it came more as a suggestion, with a gentle tone that made Kayneth feel like a child during its first visit at the doctor's.
He felt the blood rise to his cheeks from the implication. Well, yes, he supposed it happened that way but no... he didn't want to think about that.
Wordlessly, he pulled his legs up on the bed, putting his head on the pillows. Soon enough, lancer crawled on top of him, propping himself just above Kayneth's shoulders. From directly above his face, he looked down at him with his usual sullen expression, eyebrows furrowed. With something as an apology, he pulled his knees apart to get better stability, pushing master's thighs outwards.
That... didn't feel right.
Without thinking, Kayneth looked down to check if it looks as awkward as it feels, only to find his eyes sliding down the trail of curly black hairs right to lancer's genitals.
Jerking his head to the side immediately, he swore to himself that he'll never look down again.
With that diversion, he had no chance to notice Diarmuid was leaning down until he was few centimetres from his face. However, he still had enough time to push him away before their lips even touched.
'No kissing.' he ordered angrily, glaring at his flustered servant.
Swallowing another sigh, Diarmuid took Kayneth's face in both of his hands. His master looked even more angry and confused right now. It seemed like he was about to repeat what he just said but at that moment, his head was craned back unexpectedly.
A trail of wet kisses found its way down his jawline immediately. Their faces were too close and loose strands of soft black hair tickled his cheek. He felt every exhale against the soft skin of his throat and involuntarily shivered. He gritted his teeth to make sure no sound would escape him.
Diarmuid lowered himself even more on his elbows and he felt a surge of warmth as their skin touched. Their crotches also got too close for any sense of comfort. His own was plastered against lancer’s stomach, as he noticed with a sense of alarm.
How was he even supposed to look Sola in the eye after this?! Guilt was already piling in his stomach together with that nauseating feeling that he was doing something horribly wrong at the moment.
Lancer didn't seem to think of anything like that. He closed his teeth around his jawline, teasingly. Something new sparkled in his dark eyes, making them look sharper and more alive. It did seem like he was enjoying all this, for some unfathomable reason.
He started licking at his neck and slowly worked his way from the soft skin under the chin down to Kayneth's adam's apple, turning to the side to press against the carotid. He heard something that could have been a muffled complaint.
Lancer stopped for a moment.
Kayneth still refused to meet his gaze, gritting his teeth. He felt those dark eyes surveying him and it made him both scared and aroused. Head turned to the side to hide his red face, he unwittingly exposed a long stripe of his white neck.
Diarmuid followed that line with a great interest as it arched down to his collarbone. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile as he whispered against his ear teasingly.
'You and lady Sola did not get along very much recently, did you?'
Kayneth jerked away at the feeling of his hot breath against his inner ear. For a while, he was surprised that his servant had noticed Sola's change of behaviour in the last few days, before realising that it was a joke on his sex life.
He scoffed, offended that he'd talk like this about such a serious manner as that of preserving magi bloodlines.
As if that was all the response needed, lancer leaned in again. He took a hold of one of Kayneth's arms, placing it on his shoulder blade. Getting the hint, the second arm got out of the way by itself. His master still seemed to be trying and failing to maintain a neutral expression.
Judging by his grin, Diarmuid could see through him easily. He placed one hand on his chin, lifting it up to get their faces even closer. Their noses touched. He felt another shiver run through the body underneath him.
Kayneth looked at him now, blue eyes wide with panic. He wanted to force his head deeper into the pillow, but the hand kept him from escaping.
Lancer opened his mouth and slowly licked his upper lip. The body under him stiffened with shock. A single whimper escaped his master before he pressed his lips together into a thin taut line. He held his breath, not even daring to wink.
He looked a lot like a terrified rabbit, playing dead. It was such a ridiculous reaction that Diarmuid had to chuckle which turned out to be the breaking point.
'Stop making fun of me!' Kayneth shouted, pushing him away violently.
'First with Sola and now... S-stop... stop humiliating me like this...' this time, it sounded more like a plea.
'I didn't mean anything like that, master.' lancer said softly, frowning.
'You're behav-... I don't know what I'm supposed to do any more.' he complained quietly. The fact that he got treated like a skin disease when he used to have the reputation of a great lover hurt his pride quite a lot.
'Am I supposed to know that...?' his master responded grudgingly and let out a tired sigh.
'I'll be the shame of my family… and Sola…'
Diarmuid's eyes widened with surprise.
'Is that how it's looked upon today?' he asked, sullen. The grail didn't seem to consider that information necessary.
'I don't think it's shameful. It's vital that you do this to keep fighting in the Holy grail war. It'd be more shameful to just give up at this point.'
Instead of the fervent disagreement which lancer expected, Kayneth just closed his eyes. It seemed that his insecurity had made him grateful for any affirmation he could get.
'Let's get this over with...' he said simply, but it seemed to have taken a lot of his resolve.
Diarmuid only nodded.
‘Should I turn off the lights?’ he asked carefully.
Kayneth’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t think of that.
‘Yes.’ came the immediate reply.
The room had no windows, so it only took a single touch of the switch and its entirety got engulfed in darkness.
Lancer turned his eyes back to the bed. He saw well in the dark and his spear could hit the target even at midnight, but it didn’t seem a good idea to mention it right now. He made a point of returning slowly, as if he was still finding his way around in the dark.
He climbed back on the bed, careful not to startle the other man.
It seemed that the darkness calmed him down and his heartbeat slowed down. However, it quickly spiked back up when lancer reached between his legs. He could see the shock on his face, but his master decided not to protest, biting his lip. He did say he wanted it to end quickly.
He could hear the lid of the hand cream popping off and struggled to keep his legs from shaking where they were plastered to the hot skin of his servant. His teeth chattered from cold and anxiety and he felt almost relieved when he felt another chest touch his own, warming him.
‘I’m sorry, master.’ Diarmuid uttered with all honestly and he could clearly hear the sadness in his voice. He just shook his head in dismissal, unaware of the fact that his servants could see him all the same.
Soon enough, he could feel a cold slippery finger between his legs push through the ring of his muscles. His breath hitched at the unfamiliar sensation of things in places where they weren’t meant to be and he heard Diarmuid mutter something reassuring that turned out to be useless since he couldn’t make out the words.
The string of kisses recommenced back at his collarbone where it ended, as if nothing had happened. Kayneth obediently put his hands back up on his servant’s shoulder blades, just because he had no idea what to do with them, and tried to calm himself down with kneading the muscles.
The finger inside him moved and that queer out of place sensation returned. Diarmuid watched his face in the dark, quietly amusing himself with how his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend that unnatural state. One corner of his mouth kept arching slightly up and down, as if undecided if the feeling was welcome or not.
He earned himself the most shocked and dismayed expression when he brushed past his nipples, as if he’d just committed a sacrilege. The situation changed as he progressed however, and he could feel his master warming up beneath his touches.
When he started licking at his chest he even leaned back with a sigh, surrendering to the new sensations with an air of resignation. One of his hands found Diarmuid’s thick mane of hair and started playing with the loose strands. He’d finally calmed down.
Kayneth was still unsure what to feel about the whole arrangement, as he started to struggle with feeling as disgusted about it as he should be. Even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he liked the touches, slow, praising, almost loving. The kind he’d imagined he’d shower Sola with until she as much as laughed in his face on their wedding night.
He felt his chest expand with feeling and brushed the wide expanse of his servants back as an effort to repay some of the kindness. The heat continued to pool down his loins.
The entry of the second finger went almost unnoticed but Kayneth gave him a look of pure disbelief at the third. He did not think that anything could fit there but the fervent negotiations of his servant seemed rather effective. He still didn’t understand how the man didn’t feel the slightest bit put off by his task.
Somewhere in the depth, a finger brushed a nerve and Kayneth gave a startled gasp, one of his legs jerked.
‘Everything alright?’ Diarmuid asked just in case, seeing his eyes widen in surprise, but expecting precisely that kind of reaction.
Kayneth gave a few quick nods before realising that they were in a pitch-black dark room.
‘Alright.’ he managed, voice unsteady.
‘I’m glad.’ came the honest reply. He’d swear that he could hear Diarmuid smiling. Once again, he was quite surprised to find out that his servant amused himself well with him, and a wave of almost ridiculous gratitude washed over him.
He realised that if he had his way, he’d now have rider instead of him and that thought straight up disgusted him now.
Diarmuid kept brushing over the spot, too accurately for it to be accidental and Kayneth’s head arched back reflexively and few sighs escaped through his gritted teeth. He couldn’t believe it could possibly be this pleasant.
Just when started enjoying it, the fingers withdrew and he glared at the spot where lancer’s face should be. He made a complaint, voice suddenly loud and commanding.
‘What are you doing?!’
‘I’m “getting on with it”, master.’ Diarmuid replied, amused.
‘Oh.’ Kayneth managed, feeling positively idiotic about the fact that he entirely forgotten what was it that they were supposed to be doing to transfer the mana.
Few kisses on his jaw cut him off from that state, however.
His brain now busied himself with imagining what it’d be like, trying to count the possible pleasure obtained, and he bit his lips. His growing curiosity made him impatient.
‘What are you waiting for then?’ he asked, shifting on the bed. His hands busied himself exploring the back of his servant again, as if he needed to memorise every inch of his skin but to his dismay he felt the other man shifting away from him.
‘Just a moment, master.’ Diarmuid finally replied, non-informative.
Kayneth didn’t take well to orders. He blindly reached for him in the dark, sitting up. His fingers finally hit another warm body and he tried to pull him closer to him impatiently. He could hear lancer fiddling with the lid on the cream again and he brushed his fingers against the patch of skin he discovered which turned out to be his knee.
He could feel rather than see lancer’s hands moving between his legs and he made a point of avoiding that area. Instead, he trailed his hands up his arms to his chest, curious. He traversed the wide expanse of skin, only touching him with the tips of his fingers as if he couldn’t decide if he wasn’t committing some new offense against his ancestors.
He was pretty sure that his servant was silently laughing at him in the dark until he heard a quiet groan escape him. Apparently, he was too busy with himself to mock him, which was for the better. He almost wished the lights were on for this, and he couldn’t seem to chase that ridiculous thought out of his head.
Still…
He found his hands sliding down lancer’s body until his fingers found his pubic hair and Diarmuid’s hands suddenly stopped. A kiss landed on his forehead as an encouragement and for a split second Kayneth wondered just how exactly his servant found where his head was in the dark without headbutting him at least a few times and suddenly it didn’t matter because his hand brushed his penis.
In his defence, he didn’t immediately jerk his hand away, well, at least not all the way. And he really should have expected that thing to be there because he was kind of looking for it except he really shouldn’t be touching it.
He reached out again, anxious, feeling like a child feeling around for worms and brains in one of the secret boxes on Halloween party. He brushed his hand against him again, intentionally this time. He was hard… and kind of thick and either his hand was moving too slow or he was long. He had no idea what to do with that information. He actually had no idea why he was doing any of this.
Diarmuid suddenly let out a content sigh and Kayneth swore his cheeks couldn’t get hotter. He could feel the blush spreading down his neck. Apparently, his servant didn’t think it’d be best not to startle him with those sounds in the future, quite the opposite. When he stroked him, just because his hands were already there, he let out a quiet moan that had Kayneth shaking.
He understood the idea behind the positive reinforcement but this was a little too much. He was so aroused it hurt. His hands were now also coated in hand cream, he noted with disgust and wiped them on lancer’s thigh.
Diarmuid didn’t seem to mind that much and kissed his face again. Before he realised it, he was being pushed backwards onto the bed.
Lancer snaked his arms under his knees and pulled them onto his hips. The bed dipped as he propped himself on one hand somewhere next to Kayneth’s stomach. The second hand closed around his hip.
Kayneth’s heart started hammering in his chest and he could hear the blood fuzzing in the little veins in his ears. So this was all it came down to.
Diarmuid pushed against him slowly but steadily and eased his way inside.
Kayneth could feel how it pulled on his insides, stretching him open in a way that was considerably different from the fingers and almost unpleasant. A disappointment, really.
After what felt like ages, Lancer finally seemed to run out of things to shove inside because he leaned over him-and Kayneth could feel him shift inside him too-and kissed his neck. In what he assumed to be a kind and appreciative gesture, his master slid his fingers back into his hair before he realised that they were still greasy from hand cream but his servant either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He could feel him breathing hard against his neck between the kisses and came to the slow realisation that he didn’t even have the capacity to process that now, when he had to spend all of this willpower on not moving.
That made him twitch where he was plastered against Lancer’s hot stomach.
After a while, however, he ran out of patience for what initially seemed to be like an act of self-sacrifice on the part of his servant, and rolled his hips experimentally, just to see how that felt. He could still feel the pull and it was more bearable when it didn’t shift inside him, but he was too pleased with Lancer’s startled gasp.
‘Sh-should I move?’ he asked uncertainly and Kayneth rolled his eyes at him with a groan.
‘Yes, you should.’ he replied curtly.
Diarmuid nodded and his hair tickled the thin skin on his neck and chest. His hold on his hip tightened and he pulled himself out slowly, before hurrying back in.
Kayneth made a face, not particularly liking how his insides shifted around the intruder.
‘Is this alright?’ Diarmuid asked, apparently never tired of being too careful.
‘As alright as it seems to get.’ His master observed. He was wrong.
Lancer shifted his hips a little as he dove in again and brushed against the spot he was so fond of abusing earlier. Kayneth dug his nails into his shoulder as his spine arched up almost on reflex, and as he tensed up around him Diarmuid let out a long moan, almost pained. He wasn’t going to hold out long like this, but maybe that was for the better.
Kaybeth let out a short startled sound that had nothing to do with the fact that his servant was buried inside him to the hilt. He could feel his magic circuits activating without any direct command and as they widened with the flow of his mana the skin all over his body started tingling.
‘Master.’ Diarmuid breathed out. He could see the little blue veins under his master’s white skin, like a net covering up his entire body with thick knots around his shoulder where his magic crest was. In the darkness of the room, he watched them shining softly as they came alive. Soon enough, he felt the mana flow into him through every patch of skin that came in contact with his body. It felt hot and tingly, almost like he’d become a component of an electric circuit. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but the sensation was overbearing and distracting.
He could see Kayneth’s chest heaving up and down, sweat running down his neck as he marvelled at that aspect of magic he hadn’t discovered up until then. His eyes were shining too, a soft blue. He looked more like a ghost than lancer ever did, like some ethereal being.
Diarmuid leaned to kiss his mouth before he remembered that he was forbidden to and at least placed a row of hot open mouthed kisses to the soft skin underneath his jaw. Kayneth started to squirm underneath him, hot and pliant. He sucked at his neck as he started to thrust into him again and the soft quiet noises he earned just spurred him on.
He picked up the pace and the shadows danced on his taut body as he muscles worked on the familiar rhythm, bathed in the blue glow. The rest of the room stayed dark and silent, except for their laboured breathing and their moans, gradually increasing in volume.
Kayneth seemed already used to all the sensations, savouring them, chasing after his extasy with wild abandon. Diarmuid’s head shook back and forth as his thrusts turned quicker, and he could actually see the soft lines his face now, his red open mouth and his golden eyes with thick black eyelashes. Acting on a sudden urge he pulled him close and pressed a kiss on his cheek. And then on his brow, his forehead, hot and frantic. He was gorgeous, he’s never seen anybody so beautiful in his life.
Diarmuid gave him a look of delighted surprise. His hot breath against his face and neck made him shiver, even though the rest of his body felt feverish. The waves of pleasure rippled through them, sudden and violent. The final one swept them both and threw them back on the shore, out of breath and disoriented.
Lancer stayed leaning over his master as he came down from his high and his eyes refocused on what was in front of him. He was overcharged with mana and some of it flowed back into his master, but the mesmerising light started to dim again.
Kayneth lay on his back, his blonde hair tousled with strands of it plastered to his sweaty forehead and around his closed eyes, unable to catch his breath but incredibly content.
The mana transfer stopped and the room returned back to its darkness, except it seemed way blacker than before.
Lancer pulled out hesitantly and fell back on the bed, right next to his master. Neither one of them said anything for what felt like minutes.
‘I’m sorry that I put you through all of this trouble master. Thank you.’ Diarmuid finally breathed out, gingerly touching the arm of the man lying next to him, He knew that they were back to their original roles now, and it hurt him a little.
Kayneth didn’t reply but lancer could feel him move. He leaned over him and his hands found the sides of his face. He kissed his mouth without a single word, long and gentle and Diarmuid melted to the touch. When they withdrew he raised one hand to his master’s face, tracing the lines of his nose and jaw lovingly.
Kayneth cleared his throat.
‘Didn’t exactly do any good.’ He complained exactly like he used to before, voice hard and cold.
‘What am I supposed to do when the mana transfer doesn’t work.’
‘But master…’ Diarmuid objected, positively horrified.
‘It does work, I can-‘
‘It’s entirely your fault. You’re forcing me to repeat this while ordeal.’ This time, he could hear Kayneth smiling as he kept up the act.
Lancer’s eyes widened at the realisation and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face.
‘I am incredibly sorry, master. I’ll make sure not to make the same mistake the second time.’ He played along, grinning all the while. He rolled Kayneth over on his back and kissed him again, on the lips.