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you, by the campfire

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The mornings in the Stormterror's Lair are about as cold as Dragonspine at midday. So, like, unreasonably cold. Bennett is firmly of the opinion that there simply is no good reason for a place to be this cold outside of winter... though to be fair, he couldn't complain too much. Not when he had woken to the unmistakable weight of Razor's coat, to the earthy scent that clung to all of Razor's things, to the warmth of Razor lounging peacefully in the hollow of his sleep-curved body. 

"Morning bud," Bennett yawns, blinking at the sight of goosebumps along Razor's arm. "Why'd you go and give me your jacket? It's too cold for that."

"When sleeping, body cold. Need heat," Razor says. "If awake, you walk. Stay warm. If asleep, you freeze."

He's right, of course, but it doesn't make Bennett feel any better about leaving Razor out in the cold like that. With a huff, Razor adds, "I give you because I want. I choose. Don't be mad."

Phrased like that, Bennett can't help but accept it. But he still makes his protest known, bonking his head against the sharp jut of Razor's hip. "You need to stay warm, too," he stubbornly insists, tugging it off to throw around Razor's shoulders as he gets up. "I'll make breakfast today. I've still got some sausage from Good Hunter. It's really good! We can fry it up with some eggs and cook cabbage in the fat."

Razor eagerly nods at the promise of sausage, sidling up next to Bennett to warm up and watch as Bennett stokes the fire. But soon after the fire comes to life, Razor starts nodding off, curling in around the closest source of heat - that is, Bennett.

It's kind of nice, actually, with the fire warming his front and Razor warming his side. Cozy. It adds to the dreaminess of an early morning away from home, where everything is still pale and cobwebby with mist. 

For once, the eggs turn out alright, albeit a little runny - though Razor admits he likes it best that way. It's a shame Bennett hadn't thought to bring bread, too, because apparently, for all that Miss Lisa had taught this boy what she could about being a upstanding human being, she had completely neglected to show Razor the joys of bread dipped in the gooey yolk of a fried egg. "Next time," Bennett vows. "Next time, I'll bring bread and you'll see. It's so good."

"Mmph," Razor says, nodding eagerly along. Bennett can always trust him to be pretty enthusiastic about, y'know, expanding his culinary horizons, after all. 

It gets a little warmer as they pick up camp, the air full of that invigorating, cold-mountain smell, and Bennett can't help but feel a little excited. They'll make it into the great basin of the Stormterror's Lair - old Mondstadt, with all its history, all its carefully guarded treasure...!! - before the day is up, as long as nothing too crazy happens. 

Their trek out of the canyon is about the same as yesterday - hilichurls all over the place, treacherous stone steps (his poor shins!), and wind so sharp it bites - but ultimately, it's a good time. It's by no means easy, but with Razor at his back, Bennett coasts through in one piece.

It's exhilarating, being able to actually push himself, being able to stretch his adventuring muscles a little. Doing D- and C- level quests on his own just isn't the same, and when this mission is over... he knows he'll definitely miss doing the kind of stuff you'd need teams for.

They finally reach the opening of the canyon around midday, and when they do, Bennett can't help but rush up to the cliff's edge, peering over the ruined walls to just.... stare.

The Stormterror's Lair is beautiful. 

Despite its terrible history, despite the complete ruin of the old city before them... it's incredible. Bennett's never quite seen anything like it, the way half-ruined mechanisms and ancient, complex machinery lay dormant all across the land; the way the entire basin practically vibrates with elemental energy, drawing slimes and hilichurls and crystal formations to the area; the way nature had stubbornly reclaimed everything it touched, growing lush between the cracks of stone.

"Wow," Razor says, coming to a stop behind him, wind whipping his hair back as he looks down at the terrible glory of the Stormterror's Lair.

"Yeah. Wow, " Bennett echoes, unable to tear his eyes away from Razor, despite the excitement glittering in his chest. With a contented sigh, Razor tilts his chin up, letting his eyes slip shut as he enjoys the brisk morning wind, and oh. 

If Bennett had one of those nifty Kameras, he’d want to take a picture. Instead, he sidles closer, until they’re shoulder-to-shoulder, tilting his own chin up and closing his eyes, feeling the wind on his face and in his hair right alongside Razor. 

They linger there just a little while longer, before Razor turns to Bennett, nudging Bennett with his elbow, a nonverbal, do you want to get moving?

They'd been pushing themselves pretty hard all day, and despite the excitement bursting from his lungs, as a responsible adventure team leader, Bennett feels obligated to ask, "You wanna take a break now, or...?"

Razor takes one look at Bennett and grins, an amused, toothy grin that gets Bennett's heart thumping in his chest with a little more than just a hunger for adventure. "Let's go," he says, bright-eyed and wind-ruddy, and Bennett swears he's in love.

 

--

 

The place is crawling all over with slimes and hilichurl camps, but unlike the canyons, as long as Bennett and Razor tread carefully, they can avoid notice pretty easily. The scholar who'd put up the commission had drawn a map marking off the area where Bennett was to search for and take rubbings of the ancient scripts carved into the stone pillars, and for all that Bennett sorely wanted to explore everything, for all that he wanted to get his hands on all of the mechanisms and fiddle around, he had a job to do.

With a wistful sigh, Bennett keeps his feet on the right track, even if his eyes take in everything they can see, mentally cataloguing it to visit on some impossible future trip.

Maybe Razor notices, because as Bennett nearly clotheslines himself against the edge of a fallen bridge, he says, "You want... come back? Later, after job is done."

Bennett blinks, laughing sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck. "Was I that obvious?"  he asks, looking up at Razor.

Maybe Bennett's just seeing what he wants to see, but Razor stares back at him with warm, fond eyes as he nods.

"I'd love to, but it's so much trouble just getting here... You'd need a good, solid adventuring party to make headway out here, and even then, the place is crawling with danger..." Bennett says, feeling a little foolish. It sucks that he'll only ever get this opportunity once, and it's wasted on a stupid B-rank commission.

"It's okay. No danger; I protect you," Razor smiles, hipchecking Bennett. "We go together."

"Yeah?" Bennett grins, something wobbly and sweet filling him up from his toes to his ears. "You really wanna come with me?"

Razor nods. "I come with you. It’s fun. You ask, I go."

“Okay,” Bennett says, a little breathless with yearning, a little breathless with hope. “Yeah, let’s do it. I - I bet we could find some good treasure chests out here. Just you ‘n me, yeah?”

Razor nods. “You ‘n me.”

 

--

 

Of course, given Bennett’s luck, they do run into a band of hilichurls a couple times, and Bennett nearly gets blown away by an anemo samachurl’s tornados. But they make it out (relatively) unscathed, in part thanks to Bennett’s elemental burst. Bennett gets to see Razor’s lupical again, too, but they’re too busy to really hang out with it before it poofs. It’s kind of a shame; it had been… really, really cool just getting to say hi that one time.

It takes a while to get to the spot marked off on Bennett’s map, and even longer to locate the buildings and make rubbings of the carvings, but somehow, they manage to finish, with just enough time to find and set up camp underneath the awnings of a relatively intact building. The sturdy walls and the partially-broken roof keep the worst of the wind out, thank the Seven, but given the holes everywhere, the place is drafty as all hell. Sure, they can’t do much about the natural chill of the stone, but knowing how quickly the wind-chill can bring down the temperature, Bennett makes sure to properly set up the tarp as well, to block out as much as they can.

Their dinner is quick and simple; just some meat they’d stolen from the hilichurls that’d attacked them along with the last of the potatoes. Bennett had been a little wary, of course, but there’s no use in wasting perfectly good meat.

Really, they probably ought to have decided to take turns taking watch, but it’s cold enough out that Bennett doubts anyone would want to be snooping, hilichurl or not. Given how quickly dusk fell, they hadn't gathered enough fuel to last them all night anyways; it was inevitable that they'd simply have to curl up together for warmth. It seemed like a good enough plan; it's not as if Razor had any compunctions about physical contact. If anything, the guy always seemed to seek it out. Fischl had told Bennett about it once - wolves were actually very affectionate, so, y'know, it made sense.

The only issue here was, y'know, Bennett and his overactive imagination. Over the course of the night, they had naturally settled into a comfortable position. Bennett refuses to call it spooning, but, well...

Razor’s nose is cold against his neck, but his breath is warm enough to send goosebumps up Bennett’s spine. He realizes that this is, uh, bad. Probably. But… but Razor looks so comfortable, tucked up against Bennet, and he’s warm and - and it feels nice, to have Razor’s arm slung around his waist, tugging him closer, so that they can share body heat. After all, Bennett had brought them out here, and Bennett had gotten the blanket lost, and Bennett had taken so long to find the wall carvings, so it’s - it’s fine. It’s the least he could do, to let Razor cuddle close, to let him share the heat.

But…

Well, it’s - the thing is, Razor doesn’t exactly sit still when he sleeps. He nuzzles in as close as he can get, and then tries to nuzzle in even closer, and with Razor’s jacket slung over them both, all that stands between Bennett’s back and the soft skin of Razor’s stomach is that flimsy keffiyeh. Bennet knows Miss Lisa’s tried her damnedest to keep clothes on this boy, and he really, really appreciates it, but - well, he sort of wishes she’d tried just a little harder, because - because it’s really distracting. Knowing that if Bennett so much as nudges his elbow back a little, he’d be touching bare skin.

Granted, it's nothing he hasn't done before, it's just that right now, like this, it feels… intimate. Like something they’d do if they were, y’know, a little more than just friends.

It’s not like he can pull away - every time he tries to put a little space between himself and his pal, Razor growls, low and possessive, all deep in his throat and everything, and it makes Bennet go all sorts of weird. And to make things worse, he always tugs Bennett back with a vengeance, nosing against Bennet’s neck until Bennet squirms, and then they start the cycle all over again. 

It's maddening is what it is, doubly so when Razor's hair keeps tickling Bennett's skin, and Razor is making these soft, contented little whuffling sounds, and his hand's sort of found the gap in Bennett's shirt. Bennett doesn’t really get ticklish there, but his guts keep doing this weird flippy thing every time Razor so much as shifts. There's only so much of this a guy can take!

"Razor - Razor, buddy," Bennett whispers, one of his hands coming down to try and pry Razor's hand off of his stomach.

"Mnnh," Razor hums, so close that Bennett can feel his lips parting against the skin of Bennet's neck. It's - it's almost like a kiss, and that flippy thing in Bennett's guts decides to go into overdrive.

"Razor, please," Bennett gasps, as Razor's hand tightens against him.

"No. No move," Razor mumbles in his sleep. " Mine. "

"Oh," Bennett breathes, as his cheeks start heating out of more than just embarrassment, now. "Oh, no."

It's just his luck that - that this might happen to him. After all, aside from the Dads, no one's ever chosen to stay by Bennett's side for so long, even after enduring the brunt of Bennett's bad luck day after day. To think that - that he might ruin everything just because of a little cuddling almost makes Bennett want to cry.

"Razor, you need to let go. I've - I've got to go to the bathroom," Bennett whispers, acutely aware, now, of everywhere they touch. He'd feel guilty, maybe, about lying to Razor like this, but, well - what else is he supposed to say?

"No bathroom. Warm," Razor says, his breath blowing warm and wet against Bennett's neck. Bennett can't help the way he shivers, his entire body breaking out in goosebumps. "You shake. I share heat."

"That's not really how it works!" Bennett says, his voice rising to a squeak as Razor scoots up Bennett's body, pressing them together from neck to knee, and, uh - oh.

Bennett... isn't the only one that's - uh. Affected.

"Uh. Razor? Buddy?" Bennett chokes out, going stock-still against him, even as Razor hums and gets himself comfortable. "Are you...?"

"Sleep," Razor says as firmly as he can when his voice is all breathy and sleep-soaked. Bennett pointedly does not fixate on that. Just like how he doesn't fixate on the warm line of heat prodding his backside. Not at all. "You stay; I protect you."

"No, no, no, that's not the issue here!" Bennett says, his voice cracking as Razor kneads at his stomach a little more. With a frantic desperation, Bennett hisses, "Razor, are you hard? "

"Hmmmrgh..." Razor grumbles, resigning himself to dealing with Bennett's odd human sensibilities. "What is hard mean?"

Bennett swallows, embarrassment threatening to swallow him whole as he says, "You know. It's what happens when you're uh. turned on, and stuff." And then, in afterthought, he adds, "Uh. If you're turned on that means... uh. You're ready to - you want to... mate. Like. Have babies and stuff."

"Oh," Razor says, going quiet for a long, mortifying moment. "I am a boy. You are a boy. No babies."

"No, no, no," Bennett groans, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Like. It's when your, y'know, your p-penis is - when it gets hard. So that you can - uh. So that you can have s-sex."

Razor makes a disgruntled sound and asks, “What is penis?"

"Archons strike me down," Bennett groans, as he shuffles around so that they're face to face. "Okay, Razor. So, um. It's this thing, right here," Bennett says, reaching down to grab his own junk over his shorts. "Sometimes, it gets hard, and when it does, you have to either wait for it to go down, or you uh. You t-touch it."

"Oh," Razor says, his eyes lingering on Bennett's hand. There’s something strange about his voice as he says, "I know that. I touch, feels good. You want me to touch?"

Bennett hardly has the time to even be embarrassed about the fact that he has the incontrovertible knowledge that 1. Razor knows how to masturbate, and 2. Bennett will inevitably be imagining Razor masturbating sometime in the very near future, because Razor is already leaning in, reaching for Bennett's -

"Nonononono," Bennett stammers, scrambling back, out from the cover of Razor's jacket, his cheeks flaming. "You can't just touch someone's - "

Razor scowls and reluctantly sits up, levelling Bennett with a flat stare. Bennett wants to bury himself under a rock and die. "It’s cold. Why you run?" Razor asks, curling his arms around his torso, to preserve heat. "Come back. You’re scared. I won’t touch."

"I'm - I'm not scared! " Bennett cries out, indignant. "It's just - in Mondstadt, you're not supposed to touch people like that! It's - it's really, really rude! It's not allowed, unless they let you."

"Oh," Razor says a little glibly. "I... let you touch? So you let me touch."

"No - that's! That's for... for when you like someone!" Bennett says, feeling a little hysterical as he stares at Razor’s confused frown.

"I like you. I let you touch," Razor says, as if, as if that's completely reasonable. And then, with a frown, he asks, "You… don’t like me?"

Bennett’s stomach drops, seeing the sad slump in his shoulders. "No! I - I really like you, Razor! I think you're - you're really cool, and really strong, and... and really awesome!"

But Razor’s face falls further. "But you don’t let me touch."

He looks so disappointed, Bennett doesn’t know what to do. It’s not - it’s not right! Even if, even if he wants to, Razor just - he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get what it would mean, and that’d be... really unfair to him.

Bennett knows this. He knows this, but -

He’s so pretty. He really, really is. And he’s so good and kind, and Bennett likes him so much, which is why he knows he really shouldn’t - 

“Friends aren't supposed to do stuff like that. It makes things… weird. And I don’t want to make things weird, y’know, between us,” Bennett says with an awkward laugh, trying to force down the thing in his gut that’s screaming at him not to let this chance go to waste. “It’s supposed to be something you only do with - uh - with your mate.

Razor frowns, still confused, as he edges closer on his hands and knees. Bennett can’t help the way he swallows hard, staring down at Razor as he breaches Bennett’s space, all but crawling into his lap. “Then be my mate,” Razor says, as if - as if it’s that simple. As if anyone could even want Bennett for - for that. “I can’t make babies… but I am good mate. I am strong. I protect you. I hunt good, cook good.”

Razor’s face is so close, Bennett’s eyes go a little fuzzy trying to focus on him. His brain also goes a little fuzzy, because, well, it’s kind of hard to follow the thread of Razor’s words, when his voice is rough, and his cheeks are flushed, and his body just radiates heat. When he stares up at Bennett with those big, pretty, pleading eyes and that soft, sweet ‘o’ of his mouth. “S-sorry, I don’t think I underst - “ Bennett starts, and then -

And then - 

Razor bites him. On the sensitive edge of his jaw. It’s not very hard - not enough to hurt - but surprising enough that Bennett yelps, jerking away. But Razor is too fast, settling his weight on top of Bennett and holding him down so that he can - so that he can lick the bite.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, Razor, buddy, that’s,” Bennett gasps, trying to push Razor away before things get really bad, but Razor won’t budge. Like this, trapped underneath Razor with, with his cock pressed all up against Razor’s front, Bennett can’t help the way his limbs go weak and helpless, the way his body starts moving without his permission.

“Bennett… be my mate?” Razor says, his voice all low and rumbly, and oh, oh, he’s - there’s got to be a better word for humping, because it is, like, a super unsexy way to put it, but the fact of the matter is, Bennett’s got a lapful of the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, and that pretty boy is currently - he’s - rocking down against Bennett, slow and careful, almost like he’s hoping Bennett won’t notice if he goes slow enough. But how can Bennett not notice, when the hot line of Razor’s cock keeps dragging back and forth between Bennett’s legs? Bennett is so into it, it hurts.

“Bennett,” Razor prompts again, nosing down Bennett’s neck a little and - and biting again.

Bennett can’t help it, the way his hips jerk up, the way he lets out the most embarrassing sound.

“Bennett... you want? Please? We make no babies, but,” Razor says, all low and raspy and - and fuck. “I want. I want Bennett. I like Bennett. I make Bennett feel good.”

“I - we shouldn’t, that’s - “ Bennett babbles, but he can hardly piece together a proper argument, when Razor is staring down at him like that. “Friends don’t do that.”

Razor curls over Bennett, so close Bennett can feel his ragged breath fanning against his face, so close their noses touch. “Lupical… is not friends. Lupical is pack. Is different,” Razor says, his hips still moving in that maddening grind. “In pack, wolves find mate, care long time. Protect, bring food. I do for you.”

“Are you - “ Bennett gapes, unable to help the whine that slips out as his hips rock up to meet him. “Is this - do you like me? Really? Like, like like ?

Razor leans in and nuzzles his nose against Bennett’s cheek, slipping his eyes shut as he - as he makes a soft, contented sound. Like a purr, if boys could purr. “I like you. I always like you. You are lupical,” he says, and when he licks Bennett again, Bennett can’t help the quiet, incredulous laughter bubbling out of his chest.

It’s a few long seconds of this, before Razor pulls away with a huff and asks, “Why you laugh?”

“No, I just - “ Bennett gasps, trying to catch his breath as he shakes his head. “I guess it’s just my luck that the first person that confesses to me does it by biting me.”

Razor frowns. “I bite you, means I like you. Is that… bad?”

“Oh. No, no, I - I like everything you do,” Bennett assures him, bringing a hand up to smooth Razor’s wild hair back. “It’s just - we do it different, in Mondstadt. When two people, um. When two people become mates, they kiss each other.”

Razor’s frown just deepens, even as he leans into Bennett’s touch. “I not know kiss. Show me.”

Bennett gulps - “Well, I - I mean, I don’t - I’ve never, uh, done it myself, but - “ With shaking hands, Bennett cups Razor’s face and pulls him closer. Presses their lips awkwardly together. Pulls away. “It’s uh. Sort of like that.”

Razor’s brows are still pulled into a frown, as he says, “Again?”

“W-we don’t have to do it again if you don’t like it,” Bennett hurriedly assures him, but Razor’s already leaning in, trying to mimic what Bennett had done.

Given Bennett’s luck, it mostly results in an awkward clack of teeth and a bitten lip, but Razor stubbornly keeps at it until Bennett is squirming, making soft sounds against his mouth. They get a little louder, when Razor thinks to, ah, join traditions, so to speak, and nip Bennett’s bottom lip.

He wasn’t exactly lying when he said that he liked everything Razor did to him. Even the biting. Doubly so when he - when he licks it better afterward.

Bennett is hyper-aware of everywhere they touch, every way they touch, his skin fizzing over with pleasure every time Razor drags his tongue over Bennett’s lips. Bennett can’t help it, that he can’t stop squirming underneath Razor, opening his mouth up to let him in. It feels - he’s never quite done this before, and for all that it’s a little embarrassing to be kissing someone like this…

It feels good. Strange, and a little wet, but good.

It helps that Razor slowly rocks their hips together in a languid grind; Bennett finds it kind of hard to mind Razor’s enthusiastic tongue, when he’s got the perfect pressure of Razor’s weight on his dick.

“Bennett,” Razor growls between kisses, between each rock of his hips. “Bennett. I want - I want touch. You touch me?”

Oh, ” Bennett groans, hands clutching at Razor’s sides, unable to decide whether to stop Razor or to urge him on. “You sure? You really want me to - "

"I want," Razor says, fierce and, and hungry. Like a predator. Like a wolf. "I want you."

"But - but, I - what if I - "

But Razor won't have any of that. With a quiet sound of frustration, he pulls away, grabbing one of Bennett's hands where they're frozen against Razors sides, and dragging it down between them, where -

Where -

Razor makes a soft, animal sound, hips stuttering up into Bennett's touch. Encouraging.

Benentt is so hard it hurts.

He can’t believe he gets to see this - gets to see the way Razor’s eyes flutter closed, the way he goes all sweet and trembling, the way his mouth drops open as he holds Bennett’s hand against him.

He doesn’t ask for anything more than that, doesn’t ask for Bennett to reach inside and stroke him  - he simply holds Bennett there, rocking into his touch, like he’s scared Bennett would stop the moment he lets go. Not that he ever could, not when Razor looks like that at just the barest touch.

 “Oh. Wow,” Bennett breathes, like an idiot, as he gives Razor’s cock a little squeeze through the thick canvas of his pants. “Oh, wow.

 It's so warm. Bennett had no idea that it could - that it would be like this. He's touched himself before, of course, but it somehow feels... different, when it's someone else he's touching. When it's Razor he's touching.

Razor whines under his breath, fingers twitching where they’re clinging against Bennett’s hand. The other hand’s found its way back under Bennett’s shirt, the warmth of his palm sweeping across his stomach to settle at the sharp jut of his hip. His fingertips settle just beneath the hem of Bennett’s shorts. "Bennett," Razor murmurs, mouth sweet around the shape of his name. "Bennett. Feels good."

"Yeah?" Bennett chokes out, still entranced by the pink of Razor's mouth, by the flutter of his pretty, pale eyelashes with every curious grope.

"Yeah," Razor says, breathless. "I want - no clothes. Let me no clothes?"

It's kind of mortifying the way Bennett's voice pitches up as he says, "Yeah? Yeah, sure, bud, that's - anything you want," but to be fair, he's kind of out of his depth here. Razor stares down at Bennett, as if to make sure that Bennett won't run off like a startled rabbit the moment Razor gets off of him -- which, fair, though Bennett's legs are jelly right now. He could hardly move even if he wanted to. 

Razor begins by taking off his keffiyeh, tossing it over where he'd left his jacket. It's - it's honestly really pretty. Bennett's no poet, but if he were, he'd probably have a lot of really nice words to say about it. As it stands, he mostly just thinks that the way Razor's muscles move under his skin is really, really neat.

His dick also thinks that the way Razor's muscles move under his skin is really, really neat.

Razor is still wary when he rolls onto his feet to tug his pants off - where he would normally just kick them off, he instead just carefully takes them off one leg at a time, keeping Bennett's hips bracketed between his socked feet, as if it'd stop him if Bennett really wanted to take off. Bennett really shouldn't have feelings about that, but well, it isn't exactly an easy feat to keep the swoopy thing in his stomach contained. He just… likes Razor so much.

And now - 

Well, now he’s got Razor flushed and naked before him, looking like something out of a dream. Bennett is - hrm, tentative, as he touches Razor, as he slides his hand down Razor’s side, a long arc from Razor’s ribs down to the crook of his knee and back up again. Pointedly avoiding eye contact with - with Razor’s - 

It’s just - it’s a little overwhelming, okay! Sure, Bennett’s thought of this, but like, it’d only been a thought until very, very recently! In his dreams he’d always been so smooth and sure of himself, but right now, faced with the very real prospect of screwing things up, it’s hard not to freeze up.

"Bennett?" Razor murmurs, nudging a little closer, staring down at Bennett with those pretty red eyes. 

"Yeah, sorry, I just - " Bennett squeaks, squeezing Razor's hip as he tries to muster up the courage to just - to reach out and - 

"You're so pretty," Bennett blurts out instead.

Razor blinks down at Bennett, confusion written across his features, and Bennett sort of wants to curl into a ball and die. "Sorry, sorry. I know it sounds... kind of stupid; boys don't really like being called pretty, and - "

"You too," Razor murmurs, cupping Bennett's face with one hand. "You are pretty."

"Oh," Bennett breathes. Razor stares down at him with that intense, searching stare of his, and Bennett is - he can’t help but feel - he’s just so - “I like you. Um. A lot.”

Razor blinks at Bennett, before his mouth tugs into a toothy little smile. “I am same. I like you,” Razor says, as he leans in and nudges Bennett’s cheek with his nose, as he nips Bennett’s jaw again - gentler, this time. One of Razor’s hands takes hold of Bennett’s, gently guiding him to wrap around Razor’s cock. “You touch?” Razor asks, his voice gone soft and a little breathy against Bennett’s ear.

“Okay,” Bennett says, a shiver rolling down his spine. “Just, uh, let me know how you like it?”

“Mm,” Razor hums, as he mouths at Bennett’s neck. It’s, it’s really distracting, the way Razor licks and nips at the sensitive skin there, at the rabbit-quick pulse, enough so that Razor has to nudge his hips into Bennett’s hands again for him to remember that, oh, yeah, this is a thing that’s happening. Razor is letting him touch his dick, and if Bennett wants this to happen again, he ought to do something about it.

It’s weird, touching someone else’s dick. Really, it’s not like it’s anything new - Bennett knows what a dick feels like, how smooth the skin, how hard it can get and how hot it is in his hand, but the fact that it’s Razor’s dick is - wow. Kind of incredible. It’s like everything he’s known about this sort of thing’s just - up and gone. Flitted right out of his head, to make room for the overwhelming desire to do this right. To learn how to make Razor feel good.

It’s kind of hard, doing the sort of thing he usually does but in reverse, not that Razor is complaining. On top of him, Bennett can feel Razor slowly relaxing, his body melting into Bennett’s touch until it’s all Razor can do to keep from dropping all of his weight onto Bennett. “Feels… feels good,” Razor groans, his hips stuttering into the touch.

Bennett wishes he could see the way Razor looked, to check if his eyes had that glossy, hazy look to them, if his cheeks were still that pretty shade of pink. But he supposes it’s enough, that he can feel Razor’s muscles tensing and relaxing against him, that he can feel Razor’s hot breath, wet against his neck. “Bennett, I want - give me more?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Bennett breathes, tightening his grip a little as he tries to speed up. The angle’s terrible on his wrist, but Razor doesn’t seem to mind, the ragged edge of his breath picking up into soft, helpless little sounds. Bennett’s not sure when it happened, but Razor’s cock had started dripping precome, easing the slide of Bennett’s hand against the feverish skin, making obscene, wet sounds that have Bennett shivering underneath him.

Against him, Razor trembles, burying his face into Bennett’s neck as if he could somehow get even closer if he tried. Every so often, when Bennett’s thumb circles the head, Razor makes this soft, whimpering sound, his hands clutching tight against Bennett’s shirt like it’s the only thing keeping Razor from oblivion.

He didn’t know Razor could sound like this, all soft and small and, and cute. In his dreams, Razor had always been so - so cool, and steady, unflappable in the way he always is. But here, in his arms, Razor looks like how Bennett feels - young, unsure, and wanting. 

“Bennett,” Razor gasps, “Bennett, I’m - “

“It’s okay. Come on,” Bennett murmurs, pressing a kiss to Razor’s fluffy hair. “Come on, Razor, do it.”

Razor jerks in Bennett’s hand, his teeth finding purchase against the meat of Bennett’s shoulder, and - 

Mmh! ” Razor’s whimper is stifled under the give of Bennett’s flesh, and it hurts, it hurts, but Razor has gone sharp and still in his arms, his body tight like he’s holding back the lightning in his blood as he spills into Bennett’s hand and on his stomach and shirt.

Bennett feels his heart thump-thump-thumping in his chest, hard like he’d been the one that’d just come. He knows what Razor feels like when he comes, knows what he sounds like when he comes. He’s never going to not know this, and it’s - wow. Wow. Holy shit.

Completely unaware of Bennett’s sudden and life-changing revelations, Razor goes limp against Bennett, licking at the deep, red crescents he'd left in Bennett's shoulder as if in apology. "Sorry," Razor says quietly, pressing a gentle little kiss to the sure-to-bruise flesh. "I hurt you."

"It's okay; I don't mind," Bennett says, adjusting Razor in his arms so that he falls a little more comfortably. There's really no point in trying to avoid the drips of cum - at the very least, Razor could just wash off without much trouble, being naked and all. Bennett'll have to do a little laundry, but the one good thing about Stormterror's Lair is that there's water, like, everywhere.

Pressed together like this, Bennett can almost ignore the aching want between his legs. It's nice, cuddling up a little, having Razor warm and content in his arms. They could probably just doze off like this, if Razor isn’t interested in returning the favor; sure, they'd have to get up eventually to fetch Razor's clothes, because the windchill in the Stormterror's Lair sure is something else, but for now, it's easy to forget all the other pressing matters and just catch their breath, and maybe if Benett’s lucky, Razor will want to kiss him some more and - 

“Bennett,” Razor prompts, sticking a finger between the laces of Bennett’s shirt and idly playing with them. “Bennett, you too?” When he lifts his head from Bennett’s chest, his cheeks are rosy and flushed with satisfaction, his eyes bright and his hair wild from - from everything they’d done thus far.

“Wh - you want - you want me to - “ Bennett stammers, his mind going blank. Razor nods, staring at him expectantly. “Oh.”

Bennett feels - he's not quite sure how to put it in words. He feels hot all over again, his limbs prickling over like a fever chill, only, like, in a good way. There's the boy of his dreams sitting in his lap, staring down at him with that intense gaze, asking, demanding for Bennett to, to let him reciprocate, to let him do the sorts of things Bennett's been wanting for ages, but could never find the courage to ask for.

"You... don't want to?" Razor asks, looking, now, a little unsure.

"No! No, I want to, I just - really? You want to?" Bennett asks, shivering under Razor's touch. "Are you sure?"

Quietly, Razor nods.

"Okay. Yeah, okay. Alright," Bennett says, butterflies fluttering restlessly in his stomach as he - as he grabs the hem of his shirt and tugs it over his head.

Of course, given the fact that his luck is terrible, one of the ornaments gets caught in his hair and he's awkwardly stuck with his arms trapped in his shirt, and he feels absolutely stupid for thinking things could keep going so smoothly, and -

Carefully, Razor tugs him free, a soft, shy smile on his face as he stares down at Bennett with those gorgeous, gleaming eyes. "Bennett... I touch?"

Bennett swallows hard, stomach tensing as he nods, not quite trusting himself to speak. Slowly, gently, Razor runs his hands down Bennett's sides, tracing the same careful paths over his scars the way he had done just a few days ago. When he gets to the one high up on Bennett's side, Bennett can't help but jerk underneath him, his breath coming out in a single huff. "Sorry, sorry, I'm ticklish," Bennett laughs, biting his lip as Razor continues tracing lines down Bennett's chest, down, down, down, until -

Bennett gasps, eyes fluttering shut as his hips twitch upward, seeking Razor's touch. Razor hands stop there, at Bennett's waistband, a question written on his face.

"What's - what's wrong?" Bennett asks, finally opening his eyes. It's, it's - well, he definitely doesn't regret it, seeing Razor like this, flushed and gorgeous on top of him, but - 

"Here, too? I can touch?" Razor practically whispers, his thumb edging just under Bennett's waistband.

"Yeah," Bennett says, his voice gone all whispery and quiet to match. "Yeah, sure. Please. Here, let me just - "

He lifts his hips a little, just enough to push his shorts down, just enough that his dick can spring free. It's - it's a little embarrassing to be laid bare like this, to have someone asking to touch him, to make him feel good. 

"Oh..." Razor breathes, painfully careful as he takes Bennett's cock in hand. "Wow."

Bennett jolts at the touch, the entirety of his awareness focused on that one point of contact. He’s barely been touched, but already, Bennett is winded, panting like he’s run from Starsnatch to Dragonspine. "That's, that's good, Razor. Can you - a little tighter?"

Razor absently nods, giving Bennett's cock a curious stroke. It feels - different, from when Bennett touches himself. There’s no real way to put it; it feels good, for all that Razor is clumsy and unpracticed. “Razor - Razor, kiss me?” Bennett whispers, feeling, suddenly, a little vulnerable, a little small, despite the heady sort of pleasure soaking into his bones.

“Mn,” Razor hums, a sound that thrums against Bennett’s chest as he leans in to lick against the seam of Bennett’s lips, already skipping two, three steps ahead. Bennett opens for him, letting Razor have what he wants, because - because the fact that he wants Bennett at all, in any capacity, is enough for him. 

Between the tongue licking against his and the hand around his cock, Bennett can hardly pull together his focus - his entire awareness is spread all over, across every point of contact, across every inch of prickling skin. All he knows is Razor’s hair, tickling goosebumps to the surface of his skin; Razor’s breath, fanning against Bennett’s face; Razor’s weight, solid and comforting as it half-pins him to the ground.

Bennett can’t help the pathetic, needy little whine that slips from his throat, can’t help the jerk of his hips as Razor nips at his bottom lip, as he presses wet, biting kisses down his chin, as he nips against Bennett’s adam’s apple, tilting Bennett's chin up so he can suck indulgently on the little knob of cartilage and skin. It’s, its weird, in a good way - definitely in a good way, if the restless shift of his hips, the little blurt of precome spilling from his dick is anything to go off of - and before Bennett can savor the feeling, Razor is already moving steadily down, like an animal claiming territory for its own.

His mouth is hungry against Bennett’s skin, tongue tasting anything of Bennett’s it can get to, lips and teeth worrying quickly-fading marks onto Bennett’s collarbones, his chest, his -

“Oh, fuck, ” Bennett gasps, thighs twitching, aching to clamp shut around Razor’s wrist as Razor gently nips one of Bennett’s nipples. He didn’t - he hadn’t known that those were sensitive. Hadn’t known how it would feel, for someone to gently pinch it between their teeth, to tug at it until there are tears welling up in his eyes and soothe it with a hot tongue afterward. He hadn’t known that it would send that hot zing of pleasure-pain right down to his cock, that it would squeeze another drip of precome right out of him.

“You like…?” Razor murmurs, breath tickling against the spit-wet skin on his chest.

“That’s, um,” Bennett groans, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, to hide all those awful, embarrassing sounds until this is over. Unable to get his words together, he nods, hoping that’s enough to satisfy. But the moment Razor sees him slap a hand over his mouth, he gets this look on his face, before hooking his free hand into the crook of Bennett’s elbow and tugging it away.

“No,” Razor says, voice gentle, but firm. “Let me hear.”

Bennett swallows hard, hips shifting restlessly, as Razor slows down, setting a maddening pace with his hand that has Bennett squirming with want. Heat and embarrassment both twist in his gut, flowing up, up, up until it pools in his chest, his neck, his cheeks.

His cock drips again, that tight, too-big-for-your-skin feeling nearly overwhelming in the dim light of the evening. He’s close, and he knows it, and maybe Razor knows it, because he lingers, staring down at Bennett as if searching for something.

In the face of Razor’s intense stare, Bennett wants to hide, wants to cover his face, wants to curl up in a ball because he’s never - no one’s ever seen him like this, and it’s, it’s embarrassing, when Razor looks at him like he wants to memorize every little thing Bennett does. 

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t quite notice until it’s too late - before he can stop him, Razor’s tucking his hair back behind his ear, leaning down not to resume his path down Bennett’s chest, but instead, to -

Bennett jolts underneath Razor, pinned down by nothing more than Razor’s hand on his hip as Razor curiously licks a stripe up the side of Bennett’s cock. Bennett has never been more embarrassed in his life. “R-Razor, you shouldn’t - “ he chokes out, squirming, as Razor stops stroking him, instead using that hand to hold Bennett’s cock still. “T-that’s dirty, that’s - fuck!

Razor gives Bennett a dry look from where he’s got his head pillowed against Bennett’s trembling thigh. “It’s clean. You wash before bed,” he says reproachfully.

Bennett shakes his head, unable to string two words together let alone an argument as to why Razor shouldn’t - shouldn’t put his mouth there. It’s not like Bennett’s a prude or anything - he’s, he’s overheard adventurers talking about stuff like this. He’s seen it in dirty books, dreamt about it. But still, faced with the reality of, of putting his cock in someone’s mouth is - it’s still kind of. Embarrassing.

But Razor doesn’t seem to notice - or rather, he doesn’t seem to care, because after carefully scrutinizing Bennett’s face for any sign of true protest and finding none, he dives right back in, licking messy trails up and down Bennett’s cock. “Oh, oh, fuck, Razor,” Bennett groans, one of his hands instinctually finding purchase on Razor’s wild mane. “That’s - Archons above, Razor, that’s so - “

Razor glances up at him as he licks, as he leaves sucking little kisses against the underside of Bennett’s cock, and gods, he’s so pretty like this. He looks so good sucking cock, and Bennett feels like he shouldn’t - that he ought not think of Razor like this, but how can he not? When Razor’s eyes are half-lidded and his cheeks are flushed and he’s staring at Bennett like he wants to eat him, how can he not think that Razor is the prettiest thing in the world?

“Bennett,” Razor murmurs, his voice gone all low and rumbly, setting off something danger-sharp and heady in Bennett’s lizard hind-brain. “Is good?”

Bennett’s already nodding, before he can even get his words out. “It’s good, Razor, it’s so good, but, are you sure you want to - “

“I want to,” Razor says stubbornly. “You taste good.”

He says it without an ounce of shame, and Bennett is so turned on he could die. “Okay, buddy. Whatever you say; you can do whatever you want with me.”

Razor blinks at Bennett, once, twice, before grinning up at him. “Okay. You… show me? How I make you feel good.”

“Um. Okay,” Bennett says, all at once overwhelmed by the fact that Razor is theoretically giving him carte blanche to do what he liked, tempered by the sheer mortification of - of asking for it. There are plenty of things Bennett would like to do with Razor, but the number of things he’s willing to admit is - well.

“Maybe? Could you… put it inside?” Bennett asks, voice small, unsure.

Razor glances down at Bennett’s cock, staring at it like it’s a puzzle to be solved, before finally, curiously, wrapping his lips around the tip. It isn’t much, objectively, but at the same time - when Razor swallows back his drool, it feels - 

It’s so -

"Oh, Razor," Bennett groans, hips shifting restlessly in an attempt not to thrust up into the hot, wet heat of Razor's mouth. "Oh, buddy, that's - keep doing that. Please."

Encouraged, Razor gently sucks around the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing obscenely as he does as told. He’s - god, he’s pretty like this. He looks the way he does in Bennett’s dreams, red eyes gleaming with that fierce determination, staring up at Bennett as he waits to be told what to do.

Bennett feels like he's burning up, like his chest is all full of hot air and there's no way to really let it out. Bonelessly, he drops back against the ground, tipping his head back and breathing out slowly, as if it'd do anything to relieve the pressure building up inside of him. It's so much. Bennett feels so good he could die.

He’d thought all the other adventurers were making it up; he couldn’t understand why anyone would go skirt chasing when there was treasure to be found, but - well -

Now that he knows, now that he knows what it’s like, he can sort of understand. It’s only just the tip, and yet, Bennett feels entirely undone. He can't stop himself from restlessly running his fingers through Razor's hair; he’s got to focus on something, or else he might just come on the spot. With a contented hum, Razor slips his eyes shut, leaning into the touch. It’d be cute, if he didn’t have Bennett’s cock in his mouth.

Bennett knows that Razor probably has no real concept of how to give a blowjob, idly sucking on the head just like Bennett had asked him to, and it’s - it’s really good, of course. But Bennett can't help but be curious. He's 19 years old by the Dads' best estimate; of course he'd be curious about - about what it might feel like. To get his dick wet, to put it all inside.

He doesn't quite realize he's doing it until Razor is making a soft, curious sound around Bennett's cock as Bennett slowly, carefully guides him down a little further by the hair. Once Bennett realizes what he’s doing, of course he lets go, of course he apologizes, but the second he takes his hands off, Razor makes a petulant sound, glancing up at Bennett like he’d wronged him.

Slowly, reluctantly, Razor pulls off, sucking hard as he goes so that Bennett chokes out a startled sound. When he comes off, it’s with a pornographic pop. His lips are slick and pink from the effort, and Bennett is so turned on, he can hardly stand to look at him.

“Why you stop?” Razor asks, staring reproachfully at Bennett as he catches his breath.

“I didn’t mean to - I shouldn’t… push you down like that. It’s… rude,” Bennett mumbles, embarrassment turning him shy.

Razor squints at him, trying to parse out what Bennett actually means, before he says, “You push me down, you like?”

He doesn’t wait for Bennett to deny it, he just grabs Bennett’s hand and buries it firmly in his hair. “You push me down, okay?” Razor says, brokering no argument.

Bennett’s dick throbs quite inappropriately at that. “I - “ Bennett starts, but one glance at Razor’s serious glare has Bennett swallowing back his inhibitions. “Okay.”

Razor watches him as he lowers his head again, mouth parting easily around Bennett’s cock. For a long moment, Razor stays there, eyes on Bennett’s face, mouth wrapped prettily around the tip. Waiting for Bennett to - to push him down. 

“Okay,” Bennett chokes out, feeling stupider with every word out, but he can’t stop babbling. If he does, he’ll have to face the reality of - of what Razor’s doing. Of what Razor’s asking for. “Okay, I’ll. I’ll push you down. Here we go.”

He says, at least, but it’s hard to bring himself to do so. Carefully, as carefully as he can bear, he nudges Razor down. Just a little bit.

It’s not enough to satisfy, evidently, because Razor takes things into his own hands, pushing further down Bennett’s cock until his breathing starts to get a little rough, a little wet. With a frustrated huff, Razor pulls back up, sucking in a few breaths, before plunging back in. 

"Be - be careful, okay?" Bennett says, unable to help the way his breath goes all breathy and weak, the way his body trembles with the effort of staying still. "Don't choke."

"Mm," Razor hums around Bennett's cock, slowly working it deeper into his mouth.

Ohh, ” Bennett groans, spreading his legs a little more, letting Razor shoulder his way closer. For all that Bennett had tried - is trying - he’s not so much moving Razor as he is clinging onto Razor’s hair and holding on for dear life.

Around him, Razor hums, low and satisfied as he loops his arms under Bennett’s thighs, tugging him closer, swallowing harshly around Bennett’s cock. 

“Razor, that’s so - you’re so good,” Bennett babbles, as Razor picks out a pace, slow and devastating. Bennett feels cored out, hollow and buoyant and waiting to be filled with whatever Razor wants to give him. He can’t stop squirming, can’t possibly stay still like this, not when Razor’s mouth is so hot and wet, not when he’s so eager to take Bennett to the base.

It’s so - Razor’s so loud, so messy, like he can’t be bothered to try and stay quiet when he’s chasing Bennett’s pleasure so doggedly. It’d be mortifying, maybe, but Bennett’s so gone, he can’t think past the heat, the tightness burbling up from his core.

He’s been close for a while, but he hadn’t expected it to - to sneak up on him like this. He’s - he’s overwhelmed; his skin feels too small for the sheer bigness of everything he’s feeling right now, threatening to spill over any second now. “Buddy, please,” Bennett groans, hips stuttering every time Razor pulls back. “Please, just - just a little faster, I’m so close, I’m so - “

Razor growls, deep in his throat, and Bennett can feel it all the way down his cock. With a huff, Razor hefts Bennett’s legs up higher, tossing them over his shoulders as he goes to town, and it all happens so fast, he can’t - he’s -

Razor makes a choked sound as Bennett spills and spills and spills , but he stubbornly keeps going, swallowing everything Bennett gives him. Everything feels like so much, the sharp, fever-bright pleasure of orgasm magnified by a thousand with Razor’s mouth all hot and wet around him, drinking him down until Bennett can hardly think, let alone speak. 

It’s good. It’s so good it hurts, and Bennett’s never quite come like this before, and he’s not quite sure how he’ll ever manage with just his hand, now that he knows that this is what it feels like. 

When Razor pulls off, it’s with a kind of gross sound, all wet and throaty and thick, and Bennett’s still coming down from the high that he doesn’t quite remember to apologize until well after Razor’s crawled up and flopped against Bennett’s chest. “Oh gods. Oh fuck. Archons above, Razor, are you alright? I’m so sorry, I should’ve warned you, I - “

Bennett’s worried babbling is cut to a halt when Razor plaps a hand right against Bennett’s mouth. “Talk too much,” he says, voice still thick from - from sucking Bennett’s cock, from choking down Bennett’s cum. 

Bennett is so mortified he could die.

“I’m sorry,” he says, muffled behind Razor’s hand.

“Don’t sorry,” Razor grumbles, worming his face into Bennett’s neck. “I like. You feel good, I feel good. Fun.”

“Archons above,” Bennett groans, burying his face into Razor’s hair.

They stay like that a few moments longer, before Bennett realizes the goosebumps raising on Razor’s skin, the unpleasant wetness on his own skin. “Maybe we ought to - y’know, wipe up and get our clothes back on. It’s cold.”

“Mm,” Razor yawns, curling closer. “Cold.”

Bennett lets him linger a little while longer, until Razor starts shivering. At that, well, someone’s got to be the bigger man. With a huff, Bennett paws at Razor until he shoves off with a grumpy whine. “Come on, buddy, let’s go,” Bennett sighs, making his way over to wake up their cookfire. At the very least, he can warm up the water a little, before they wipe off.

Razor is reluctant to get up, which, cute, so as soon as Bennett’s got his pants back on, he trots over to where they’d left Razor’s jacket and slings it over Razor’s shoulders. “Stay here, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

“Mn,” Razor yawns, curling into the jacket like a child. It’s cute. Bennett can’t help but ruffle Razor’s hair as he hops down the steps to fetch some water.

By the time he’s back, Razor’s nodding off a little closer to the fire, still shirtless, but at the very least, he’s got his pants up. Bennett can’t help the sheer affection welling up in his chest, seeing Razor so defenseless, so content.

It doesn’t take long to get the water warm to the touch, and in an effort to spare Razor a few more minutes of sleep, Bennett decides to wipe himself off, first. He’d gotten the worst of it, being, y’know, on bottom and all, and in the time it’d taken to fetch the water, everything had gone all tacky and gross. It’s honestly a bit of a relief to wash off, though he knows Razor isn’t fussy enough to share the sentiment.

Razor, for the most part, was clean, save for his stomach and, admittedly, his face, and when Bennett comes over to wipe him down, he wrinkles his nose like a fussy child. It's so cute Bennett can't help but laugh, smooshing his cheeks with one of his hands the way the Dads used to and properly wipe his face.

At the first touch of the wet towel, Razor curls in closer to Bennett, a bare attempt at obstructing Bennett's path. But alas, between the two of them, Bennett is more awake, and therefore more willing to make sacrifices to get the job done.

With a quiet snicker, Bennett pries Razor's stubborn curl apart, pushing him away just enough to wipe down his stomach to Razor's very audible, very squirmy dismay.

"Don't be such a big baby," Bennett laughs, getting up to drop the washcloth and his shirt back into the pot to soak.

"Not baby," Razor sulks, burrowing sleepily into his jacket. He looks so grumpy, Bennett can't help but smile, smoothing back Razor's hair where it peeks out from under his little scarf-hood thing.

"You gonna let me in?" Bennett asks, voice soft and coaxing. He can't keep the smile off his face.

Razor huffs and burrows in a little harder.

"It's so cold out here," Bennett theatrically bemoans. "What if I freeze to death? I'll surely die without my good friend Razor to help keep me warm."

For a long second, Razor doesn't say anything. And then he says, "Not friend. Mate."

Despite literally everything that had just happened, Bennett can't help but thrill at the fact that he's - that Razor wants him to be - that they're mates. "Well, is my mate going to let me in? What happened to caring for each other for a long time? What happened to protecting me forever?"

That gets Razor to poke his head out, a scowl on his face. "Not baby," he says.

Bennett laughs. "Okay, okay, sure. You're not a baby. If you were, I wouldn't be able to kiss you, huh?"

Razor considers this for a moment, and then nods seriously. As if on cue, he cranes his neck a little and says, "Bennett, kiss?"

Bennett is so fucking charmed. "Okay, yeah. But only if you let me in."

There's a moment of pause, before finally, hesitantly, Razor shuffles over and opens the jacket up to Bennett. With a huff of laughter, Bennett tugs him closer, until Razor is settled comfortably on top of him, jacket and all. Slowly, carefully, Razor leans in to nuzzle against his cheek, nipping him harmlessly with his lips.

It’s soft. Intimate. Not quite like the biting from before. Bennett decides he likes it. With a grin, Bennett worms his hand up enough that he can guide Razor's face closer, and then they kiss.

And kiss.

And kiss.

 

--

 

The morning after is comfortable and sweet. Bennett had thought that maybe, he'd be a little nervous. After all, it's not like he's ever dated anyone! But Razor is easy to be with. He's straightforward about what he wants and Bennett knows he can trust Razor to be honest about what he needs.

They linger in the early morning comfort for a while, until the chill gets to being too much even for the both of them. It's with great reluctance that they get up to start the fire.

It's eggs again for breakfast and while it's not much, it's not like there's a whole lot of, y'know, edible wildlife around Stormterror's Lair. Birds, maybe, but neither Bennett nor Razor had come equipped to trap any, and it's so cold this early in the morning that neither of them especially care to brave the crisp chill of the lake to try their hand at fishing. For all that it would be amazing to explore the Lair, now that they're done with everything else... Bennett knows better than to try his luck. With great reluctance Bennett suggests they hightail it out of there and go hunting for boar around the Brightcrown Mountains. 

Before they leave the Stormterror's Lair, they carefully redistribute their packs, so that Razor's the one carrying the commission materials and Bennett's carrying the other nonessentials. It's not exactly, y'know, 100% safe with Bennett still in the area, but it's safer than if Bennett were to carry them.

The climb up is good, steady work, and by the time they're out of the Stormterror's Lair, it feels like spring has warmed over. Granted, there are hilichurls all over, and they have to sneak around a sleeping Ruin Guard, but they!! actually!! manage!! to find!! a treasure chest!! Which is the coolest thing ever! Bennett can't believe how good his luck had been this entire trip - it'd had an enhancement ore, two whole potatoes and a cabbage! By far one of the rarest chests he'd found in ages!

The route back through the Brightcrown Mountains is meandering and difficult, but Razor assures him he knows the best ways through. At the very least, Bennett can admit it's good exercise, even if Bennett's arms are gonna be jelly by the time they make it back to Mondstadt. And besides, ah. Razor makes it worth it, when they stop in the evening.

In about a day and a half, they manage to get all the way to Wolvendom, where Razor has a touching (and very yippy) reunion with his family. Bennett gets a lot of curious wolf noses in his butt, but, well, the fact that they generally like him is pretty cool. He gets the best sleep of his life that night, cuddled up with Razor in a giant pile of ultra-fluffy wolves.

Getting back is so much fun that Bennett is honestly kind of bummed by the time he and Razor make it back to Springvale. Travelling off road alongside Razor had made everything feel fresh and new, like an adventure, and seeing Springvale again... it feels like a reality check.

It’s not a long walk to Mondstadt from there, and all too soon, they're on the bridge heading into the city itself. Like always, Timmie scolds them for scaring off the pigeons - though, given the look on Razor's face, it's probably better that they had been scared off. And like always, The Knights at the gates are courteous as ever, nodding amicably at Bennett and Razor as they pass on through. He shouldn’t feel quite so bummed to be home already, but, well - all adventures come to a close one way or another.

But this one isn’t quite done yet. As they make their way through the gates, Bennett notices the way Razor's fingers carefully lace between his, the way his shoulders curl in and his eyes grow wide upon seeing all the unfamiliar people milling about.

He’s still got one more duty to attend to, at the very least.

"It's okay," Bennett assures him, squeezing his slightly clammy hand with a gentle smile. "I won't let you get lost. And if I do, you just need to howl for me, and I'll come find you."

Razor glances up at Bennett and offers him a small smile in turn. "Okay."

They don’t have very far to go, to get to the Adventurer’s guild. Katheryne is there like always, smiling and waving by the kiosk.

“Ad Astra Abyssosque, Katheryne!” Bennett calls out, waving happily at her. “We finished the commission!”

“Ad Astra Abyssosque, Bennett. I’m glad you’re back in one piece,” Katheryne smiles. And then, when she notices Razor, clinging to Bennett like a lifeline, her smile grows a fraction bigger. “I see you’ve also managed to add a new member to Benny’s Adventure Team. Shall I put him in the register?”

Bennett blinks, and then glances at Razor. “I - Do you…” he stammers, feeling a little awkward for putting Razor on the spot like this, but also... he can’t deny the appeal of seeing Razor more often. Hanging out with him, eating with him. Curling up beside him to watch the stars and enjoying the wind at his side. Knowing he’ll always be right there, by the campfire. “I mean, you don’t have to or anything, since y’know, you’re busy with your pack and all, but if you want to, y’know, keep going on adventures with me, we could... make it official, maybe?”

Razor blinks at Bennett, and then at Katheryne. Slowly, quietly, he nods.

“Really?” Bennett whispers, chest lighting up with something giddy and sweet.

Razor’s hand tightens in his, and he nods again, a bright and eager smile blooming on his face. “Yes. We go together. Always.”