Disclaimer: Crimson Spell is copyright Ayano Yamane, Tokuma Shoten Publishing, and Kitty Media. No infringement or disrespect of the intellectual property rights held by the owners of existing copyrights in Crimson Spell or its derivative works is intended by this non-profit, noncommercial amateur fan fiction..
Description: Everyone knows that it's wrong to do anything lewd to an unconscious person. Spoilers for chapters 3 and 4.
Overdoing It a Little
Even though Valdrigr believed the rabbit's – no, he should call him Rulca – assurances that the magical potion they'd prepared would save Halvir, he still couldn't bring himself to do much else than sit and watch the sorcerer for any sign of improvement.
Not that there was much else to do. The ra – Rulca had said that the ruins were too dangerous for a non-magical person to explore, and at any rate Vald was pretty sure that, even after years of being around the court magicians back home, he wouldn't recognize a magical artifact if it bit him. Which he was pretty sure some of them could do, if they wanted. (Like that talking wine bottle in Halvir's cottage, for example ...) Other than exploring, he supposed that he could have gone out hunting to replenish their food supplies, but for now the steady stream of only slightly magical canned and potted foods that Rulca was retrieving from somewhere in the ruins was doing nicely. There would be time later, after Halvir recovered, to clear out the local wildlife.
So he sat. Which in itself wasn't bad, but since he was used to action – riding, sword-fighting, hunting dragons – and since he had nothing to read, and Rulca didn't play cards, and he wasn't even that fond of cards himself, all that was left to do as he sat was think, and that was dangerous, because all there was to think about was how it had felt when he'd transferred the medicine from his mouth to the unconscious Halvir's. It was bad enough that he'd noticed, even under the stressful circumstances, how pleasant the other man's lips had felt, firm and only slightly yielding, but even worse was that the feel of Halvir's mouth had seemed – familiar.
Which it absolutely shouldn't have been, because certainly as a Prince of Alsvieth he'd never kissed a man, and he'd only kissed a few girls here and there, mostly at the Harvest Festival, and he should really concentrate on that instead of continuing to marvel at how much better Halvir's lips felt than any girl's, and stop wondering what Halvir's kisses would be like if he wasn't unconscious.
Which, he still was.
It was the Prince's custom to bathe on rising, and so that morning he went down to the river (feeling not nearly as well-rested as he had since journeying with Halvir the past few weeks: it must be the strain of worrying about the sorcerer's condition that was making him feel so restless and fatigued) and stripped and took a swim.
Refreshing, it was. So refreshing, in fact, that he decided that perhaps a nice sponge-bath would help Halvir recover more quickly. After all, weren't poisons removed from the body through sweat? It seemed reasonable to assume that it probably wasn't a good idea to leave those lying about on a sick man's skin.
Vald worked quietly, dipping a piece cut from an old blanket into a bucket of sun-warmed river water, gently wiping Halvir's brow, his face, his neck; then opening the sorcerer's robe to expose his chest and shoulders. Valdrigr was surprised at how unsurprised he was to find the Halvir so well-built; most of the court magicians had been middle aged, and time had not been kind to the well-fed among them. As he washed Halvir's chest – really, the man had the pectorals of a wrestler – Valdrigr once again felt like he'd seen this sight before. He stopped washing, and put a hand on the pale abdomen, his fingertips restless until he slid them up, sternly forcing himself to take the middle course – really, it was lewd to even think about touching an unconscious person's nipples! – up the chest to the breastbone, then across the collarbone, and from there up to curl his hand around the side of Halvir's neck.
From there, it was just a small motion to lean over and press his ear against the sorcerer's chest, to see if his heartbeat sounded familiar too. It did. Which just added to the day's tally of distressing.
"Really, this is nonsense," Vald muttered to himself, and sat up, and swished the piece of cloth in the bucket, only now the water was cold, and so he picked it up to go get more warm water from a sunny spot upstream.
It had seemed a good idea to wash Havi at dawn, to remove any sweat that might have been accumulated during the night, and again at mid-morning, when all the good spots in the stream had received sunlight for a few hours, but when Vald brought in the bucket for the third time, just after noon – for everyone knows that noon is the hottest time of day, when sick people are the sweatiest – Rulca popped out of rabbit form, pointed at the door, and ordered him to go wash the horses instead.
All in all, it was beginning to seem as though it would be a good idea to acquire a deck of cards.
~ The end ~
Written for Kink Bingo round 3, card 1, kink 2,1: washing/cleaning
AN: Not much to say, but I admit to having an irrational need to explain why there's a panel in the manga with Vald saying he's off to "change" the water after the chest incident. :p
(01) 28 August 2010