To Understand

Weak is not an adjective Iori ever thought he’d use for Saber. They’re the embodiment of power, a torrent wielding the sword. They cannot be weak in the same way a cascade physically cannot be weak.

Yet, standing here, short of breath, a light tremble in their limbs, they definitely look… weaker.

“I’ll be fine.” They grunt out. “It’s just poison. It’ll purge itself out.” 

He believes them; Assassin’s strike can only be less effective on another servant than on him. Logically though, they should both still tap out of the ritual for a bit, or they’ll suffer from an early death.

“No need.” Saber shakes their head, sitting up. “Just transfer some mana to me, that will speed up my recovery.”

Sounds like a good idea. There is an issue though, namely: “I don’t know how to do that.” He’s a swordsman, not a mage. He never looked into the specifics of magecraft. “Do you… eat gems?”

“What? I mean, they do look delicious, but I don’t think that’d work?” They shake their head. “Look, let me just- don’t move.”

They lean forward then. Iori doesn’t know what to expect- a tap? A push? Some incantantion of sorts?

None of that happens. Instead, Saber, softly, presses their lips against his own.

Huh.

Iori is not naive. He knows what a kiss is; has heard of it in hushed whispers, have even caught a glimpse of it in the red light district a few times. It’s not something he’s ever experienced though, and so his first thought in the face of this completely new thing is: this is nice.

Then Saber opens their mouth, and there’s tongue, warm and wet, and his thoughts change to: this is actually a bit gross.

He pulls away then. Saber doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, they dive for his hakama, pulling it down just enough to take him in their mouth.

Oh, huh. This, too, is nice. The pass of Saber’s lips, the brush of their tongue… it’s quite soothing. It’s not something he’d ever spend money on, but he can see why people are so obsessed with it.

Iori stays like this for a moment, letting Saber work on… getting mana, he supposes. Relaxing as it is though, it’s hard to not think about all the other more productive things he could be doing right now. He could be training. He could be forming a plan of attack to take on Assassin. He could be crafting gems. This is… a bit frustrating.

Maybe he could do some meditation? This seems like a fitting situation. The physical sensation would help him greatly in emptying this mind. Yes, that would be the best use of the time-

There is a wet pop as Saber suddenly lets go of him. “Okay. What am I doing wrong?”

Odd thing to ask him. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know what you’re trying to do.”

“ Very obviously, I’m trying to get you hard. This,” Saber pokes at him, “isn’t hard. So what is it? Do you like it rougher? Softer? I don’t believe it’s me. Everybody wants me. So what is it?”

From anyone else, Iori would call that statement conceited, but many people comment on how attractive Saber is on a daily basis, so yeah he’d believe that actually. The rest of the sentence though… is a bit harder to parse. “Saber. That’s a penis. Penises are meant to be soft. That’s the normal state of a penis.”

Saber quirks up an eyebrow, as if this answer was doubtful. “Not when getting your dick sucked, Iori.”

… Yes it is? He’s about to reply that getting any part of your body hardening sounds like a health issue- when it finally hits him. “Wait do you… think erotic art is accurate to real life? Saber. It’s art. It’s exaggerated. Penises do not do that.”

“Huh?” Now Saber is the one who looks confused. “I’m not- Iori, I’ve had sexual intercourse, I’m speaking from experience. I’m not-” and then a light pause. “Iori. Have your only contacts with sex… been through erotic artworks?”

“Yes.” Aside from odd jobs, selling whatever junk he finds in the streets is his primary way to make money- which includes, for some reason, quite a lot of intimate artwork. “I wish to master the way of two swords. I don’t have time or desire for anything else.”

“Oh. Ooooh, I get it now.” Saber closes their eyes, nodding to themself. “You’re impotent. This was never going to work to begin with.”

Iori shrugs. He’s only ever heard that word used as an insult, but frankly he couldn’t care less about it. If that’s what he is, then sure, fine. He’ll live.

“Very well. I intended to drink your seed, but any fluid would do. Hand me your blood.”

Now that’s a lot easier for Iori to provide. He turns around to reach out for his sword, intending to give his upper arm a cut. “We could have started with this, you know.”

“W-well, yes, but you’re already injured. No sense in making it worse.”

It’s the stutter, so out of character for Saber, that draws his attention. He looks back at them. They don’t look much different than usual, but now that he’s focusing on them- there’s a light flush to their cheeks, which he’d initially mistaken as fatigue. Their pupils are blown wide from the poison… or from something else.

Ah. “Did you want to have sexual intercourse?”

Saber huffs. “That’s not relevant right n-”

This time, Iori’s the one to lean down to kiss them. No tongue- the experience was too uncomfortable to reproduce willingly- but the pressure is enough to shut Saber up. Most importantly- after a short pause, they kiss back, confirming to him that yes, this was as much a matter of necessity as desire.

He slides a hand between Saber’s legs, making them gasp. What he finds there is deeply surprising, but well. He’s deft with his fingers, and good at picking up hints that he’s doing something right.

To surpass Saber’s sword style, he must understand them. And here, in their pants, in their moans, in that warmth leaking against his fingers- there is much to learn.