nowa struggling to contain his repressed thoughts as he thinks about how he had invited bettel over to his scholar's chambers in a spontaenous burst of courage, regretting it late at night when bettel never shows, feeling his heart sink with horror...

he starts drinking the embarrassment away and gets up to go personally apologize to bettel for making him uncomfortable, but as he opens his door, he finds bettel sheepishly explaining he's exhausted from his trip to the city with magni for supplies. nowa smiles and goes into full caretaker mode, brushing off the dirt from bettel's clothes, folding his robes, hanging his stuff... he offers bettel a drink and asks him to recount his recent guild escapades. nowa pours him drink after drink, taking sips of his own as he sits in the chair adjacent bettel's loveseat, eyeing his figure down like a starved animal, eyes lidded with lust over the rim of his glass as he stares at bettel's lips and down the exposed skin on his chest, the creasing of his shorts and the subconscious sway of his legs moving with the stories he tells.

he gingerly rises from his seat and falls to his knees before bettel's boots, rubbing out the mud specks with the side of his gloved palm. bettel looks slightly confused, stopping his story with a jolt but not making any further move or sound as he's hammered and entranced by nowa's rhythmic cleaning motions. the rubbing turns into a massage, from foot to inner calf, with nowa justifying the act as his way of showing appreciation for his hard work today. the 7, 8, 9... definitely even more drinks he's fed bettel have completely swallowed his ability to think straight. small noises of positive feedback slip his lips and he strips his own boots from his legs.

nowa gets startled and then worried for the sudden acceptance of his treatment towards bettel, scared they're both too drunk to think for themselves. is this consent? yes. this is his consent. right? bettel knew what he was getting himself into, surely. but it's not fair to him. he never got a say, he was too kind and didn't want to say no to a free drink. but bettel's no pushover, he knows how to wriggle his way out of any situation he knows is dangerous... but—

his deafening thoughts are crushed by the wrap of bettel's legs around his neck to pull his head in towards him, and in the time his thoughts were occupied, bettel had already slipped down the waist of his shorts and drunkenly started himself off with a couple pathetic, uncoordinated tugs. well, he definitely wants it. he accepts he may regret this later, and the mortifying realization that he buttered up his guildmate for such depraved, selfish motives is brushed away with the tip of bettel's exposed dick on his lips.