Promt: 8: 'Do you want me to run a warm bath for you? We can use your favourite bubble bar.’ For dpd link I think that'd be cute.
Link trembled in Sidon’s arms, muscles taut and burning. He sucked in a soft, ragged breath, scrunching himself into a tighter ball. He didn’t feel right with Sidon touching him like this. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve Sidon.Link pressed his face into his arm, squeezing his eye shut as another sob rolled through him. He felt weak. The dull, buzzing pain on his skin seemed somehow to permeate down to his bones, blurring and smearing with the hot, electric panic coursing through his mind. He’d gotten himself whipped into one of his moods again, so caught up in making Sidon see, making him understand how absolutely and wholly good he was, and how horrible Link was in comparison. He’d run out of comparisons at some point, and he’d panicked when Sidon started reassuring him, telling him they were equals and that he himself was no better than him or anyone. But he was wrong! He was so, so wrong; Sidon was flawless. Sidon was perfect in every sense of the word, so radiant and shining he made the sun, the stars themselves seem dim and dull; so benevolent and holy he seemed some sort of reverent deity bound to the Earth. Sidon was perfect. Sidon was amazing. Sidon was flawless. Sidon was a god. Link didn’t deserve Sidon’s precious, glorious affection. He was nothing but a mutt to him; a cur that had been thrown one bone one time by a benevolent god and hadn’t left its side ever since. Sidon didn’t deserve to have him leeching and clinging to him for the rest of his life. Link was nothing but garbage; the rotting refuse of the lowest of the lowliest creatures. He was evil and wicked and twisted and hideous and did not deserve even to exist within the same realm as Sidon.
But Sidon wouldn’t let him think this. Sidon, the accursed, beautiful man. As soon as Link stopped he started negating everything he’d said, unknowingly crumbling the very pedestal upon which he lived in Link’s mind; the same pedestal that held up his frameworks and scaffolding. Link had panicked, tumbling and tripping over his words as he tried desperately to show Sidon how good he was in his eyes, how perfect, how reverent, how absolutely holy he was. His words became messy as his thinking jumbled and twisted over itself, locking up and seemingly coating his tongue in lead. It had almost brought tears to his eyes. Sidon needed to know. He needed to know how good he was. He just needed to. If he didn’t, who knew what would have happened? If he thought them as equals, how would he ever tolerate the mistakes Link made? How would he ever accept his shortcomings?
Link’s panic and worry had folded in and in and in on itself, twisting and rolling and flexing until it reached critical mass and ripped through Link like a bullet. He’d fallen apart, crumbling to his knees and begging Sidon to understand, please just understand. He was not good. He was not pure. He was not perfect. He was flawed, irreparably so. He was nothing. He was dirt to an angel. He was a sinner in the presence of a god. They were not equals, never had been, never could be. It was simply impossible. Link had begged Sidon to understand this, pleaded at his feet for him to please understand, please acknowledge it, please recognize it. Sidon hadn’t said anything. He’d watched Link, shivering, sobbing, lamenting mess that he was, and gingerly touched him after a moment or two. Link had flinched. He’d coaxed Link off the ground, cradling him secure and warm in his strong holy arms, and sat on the bed with him, letting Link curl into his chest and sob all he wanted.
Eventually, Link had burned himself out, frantic, obsessive passion replaced by a sick, scraped out hollow feeling, like he was simply the fragile shell left over. He shivered, pressing into Sidon for warmth and stability. He felt like he might fall to pieces at any slight jarring. Weakly, something in the back of his mind told him to struggle against Sidon; try to push from his grasp so he wouldn’t be holding filth. But he was simply too spent, too broken.
Link felt gentle lips press against the top of his head. He trembled, closing his eyes and whimpering softly.
“I’m sorry,” Link gasped, voice hoarse from sobbing and fragile.
Sidon said nothing, only shaking his head a bit. He lifted a hand, bringing it up to brush back the hair on his forehead. Link exhaled softly as Sidon brushed his lips over his hot forehead.
“My pearl…” he murmured. He pressed another kiss to his head, firmer and sweeter. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”
Link’s heart turned with panic in his chest. He suspected he meant alright to mean something other than what he thought, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He shifted, suddenly stirred with panic and anxiety. “I’m–” Link started, voice fearful and small. Sidon shushed him, holding him tighter and gently rubbing his cold, goosepimpled arms.
“Shh… You’re ok. None of that, now,” Sidon cooed warmly, voice so sweet and gentle that it brought tears to Link’s eyes. He was so perfect. Even with how Link was, all the breakdowns and episodes he had, how he refused any compliment he tried to give, how quickly he could switch from suffocatingly needy and clingy to fearfully distant and afraid, he remained calm and collected and comforting, no matter what. No matter how wound up and frenzied he became, Sidon would always sooth him back to calmness; always hold him as he cried and steady him as he shook. Link loved it, the way just his voice or his touch could relax whatever he was feeling too much of like a salve. It satisfied the deep, almost primal desire he harbored of being cared for and cosseted over and coddled, but he could never truly enjoy it. It wasn’t fair to made someone like Sidon–of all people!–have to worry about his wellbeing and come running every time he had a bad day or made himself upset. He tried now to self sooth as best he could, although he lacked the fundamental skills to do much more than berate himself for being so weak and helpless, and often to convince Sidon to leave him before he was truly better. But Sidon–perfect, reverent, holy Sidon–very rarely listened to him. He would sit with him as long as it took to talk him down, and usually even longer after that to assure he was fully calm. The care Sidon showed him almost always made him tear up.
“Do you want me to run a warm bath for you?” Sidon asked gently, brushing back the hair that had fallen in front of Link’s eyes. “Perhaps that would help you calm down a bit. We can use your favorite bubble bar.”
Link pressed into Sidon’s touch, ignoring the bitter voice within him that cursed him for ever even thinking about bathing with a creature so divine as Sidon. He was simply too tired now. He needed Sidon’s affection and care. He nodded weakly.
“Alright. Can you wait here for a few minutes?”
Link nodded again, and felt his heart ache dully as Sidon let him slide from his lap and got up. Link curled himself into a tight ball, pressing his forehead to his knees and squeezing his eyes shut as bitter thoughts bombarded him. How could he let Sidon suggest something like that? How could he let a flawless creature like Sidon bathe with him? It was deplorable to even consider. Sidon had told Link many times before that he loved his body, adored it even. They’d had sex plenty of times. Sidon must’ve had seen his body dozens, if not hundreds of times over the years. But no matter what, Link always felt a brief flash of insecurity he never felt with anyone else whenever he was naked with Sidon. He knew his body was abysmal, just as he as a person was. He still flinched a bit whenever Sidon touched him, looked away when he praised and adored his body, blushed when he kissed him anywhere but his head. Sidon had told him numerous times that he loved his body, that it was perfect and beautiful. Link could never shake the feeling that he was lying.
Link started a bit when Sidon approached him, towel wrapped around his waist. The smooth, tanned skin of his strong chest made Link’s ears redden and twitch. He reached out for him feebly, brokenly, and felt his heart warm and soar when Sidon picked him up gingerly. He rested his head on his firm chest, radiating heat like an oven. Sidon was good. Sidon was flawless. Sidon was a god.
Link let Sidon help him with his clothes, too spent and hollowed inside to let his self consciousness refuse Sidon’s help. He insisted, though, on getting into the tub himself. How helpless would he seem then, needing help to get into a bath?The water was hot, but not too hot. It was comforting, like a hug from a mother, and he could tell from its silkiness and sweet redolence that Sidon had added some kind of oil or bath salt. As Link lowered himself into the water, he could already feel some of the tension in his back and legs relax. He submerged himself with a soft sigh, flexing his fingers as the bath’s warmth enveloped him in a soothing embrace. Link heard Sidon climb into the tub as well and then felt his hands gently encircle his waist, pulling him to lie back against his chest. Link let him, ignoring the part of him that screamed at him for letting Sidon touch someone as filthy and decrepit as him. He shivered as Sidon brushed his lips over his ear, humming and murmuring softly to himself. Link tipped his head back, resting it in the crook of Sidon’s shoulder so he could look back at him. Sidon smiled, patient and sweet and beautiful. Link felt his cheeks warm. He shifted, sitting up and looking away from Sidon.
“I’m sorry,” Link squeaked out, voice pinched and fearful. He didn’t know quite what he was apologizing for, but he felt a distinct urgent feeling as though he’d done something wrong.
Sidon slipped his arms around him again, turning him around so they were chest to chest. Link stared into Sidon’s molten, golden eyes, flecks of cerulean shining like jewels. They held nothing but kindness and love and adoration, even for a creature as horrendous as he. It made Link’s chest tighten and tears spring up in his eyes. Sidon lifted a hand to cup Link’s cheek, swiping away with his thumb the tear that had begun to roll down his precious cheek.
“Shh, my darling,” he murmured. “No tears now. Everything’s alright. I promise.”
Link’s chest swelled at this. He loved Sidon. He adored him. He was infatuated with him, his goodness, his perfection, his divinity. There were not, it seemed, enough words in existence to describe him. None of the ones Link had seemed to do him enough justice. Link’s heart stirred, roused by Sidon’s words, but he was too withdrawn now to erupt into frenetic praise like he usually did. Now, he simply rested his head on Sidon’s chest, pressing into his warmth and wrapping his arms around him. Sidon pressed a kiss to Link’s head, one hand gently raking his nails up and down Link’s back along his spine, the way he knew he liked, as the other played with and twirled his long, silky hair, let down from its usual ponytail for bathing. Link closed his eyes, a pleasurable chill rolling through him as he felt the last bits of his anxiety and mania slip away, expertly teased from him by the bath and Sidon. He closed his eyes, senses occupied by the sheer presence of Sidon.
He loved him so much.