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Diarmuid is on patrol, so Waver feels safer than when he's around.
It seems strange to say that, but for things like this, it's an accurate statement.
Once more, Waver scans the room. No Servants here. Just him in his pajamas, sitting on the bed. His 'grandparents' should be fast asleep, and anyway, he's not loud.
He undoes the button to his pajama pants and slides them down. Already he's slightly hard; it's been a while since he was able to do this in earnest and he's been staring at Diarmuid's backside all day. (It's difficult not to.) He takes himself in hand, closes his eyes, and loses himself to fantasy.
In his mind the hand around him is slightly calloused from years of holding a lance. It slides up and down slowly, and when Waver leans back there is a strong chest to catch him instead of air. A familiar voice murmurs in his ear. "Is this what you like, Master?"
"Y-yes..." Waver isn't sure whether he said it out loud or not. Either way, he can feel a smile against his skin, and the hand that is stroking him speeds up a fraction.
"Then please... allow me to serve you." Diarmuid/Waver slips his free hand underneath Waver's shirt, drawing out a whimper.
As much as he would like to take his time, Waver isn't quite sure when Diarmuid will return. He should have another few minutes, at least. More than enough to finish and make himself presentable. He strokes faster, letting his hips rock into the motion.
He imagines that Diarmuid would be gentle and careful with him, always listening for his voice to learn how fast or how slow he wanted it. He would whisper tender words into his ear as Waver managed to murmur his name again and again. He would-
Something wet touches the tip of Waver's length. Waver's eyes fly open and he lets out a shrill squeak.
Diarmuid, the real Diarmuid, is between his legs. At Waver's sudden start he draws back a little. "...You said my name," he says by way of explanation. "Quite a few times."
"I-I-I didn't notice that you came back," Waver manages to get out. "A-and what are you, why-?"
Diarmuid's face is red: not as much as his, of course, but red. "If you want me," he says, "I am yours."
"I've never..." Been so openly propositioned? Had sex? Been in love? Waver doesn't know. "Are you just doing this because I'm your Master?"
Diarmuid shakes his head.
Waver's voice quivers. "I've never done this. You're going to have to guide me."
"I understand, M- Waver."
The sound of his name makes Waver shiver as Diarmuid pushes his legs apart. Then wet heat encloses him, and he's done.
Mortified, Waver watches Diarmuid sit back up and wipe his mouth off. "I- I-" Giving up, he pushes Diarmuid over onto the bed and dives.
"You don't need to-"
Diarmuid's words fall on deaf ears as Waver licks a stripe all the way down his length, determined not to make an utter fool of himself during his first time. Determined to give Diarmuid at least a little back. He kisses his way back up, and when he tries to slide it smoothly into his mouth, accidentally scrapes the top with his teeth.
Diarmuid winces.
Waver draws back. "I'm sorry..." For a while, he sticks to the safety of long licks and kisses, mostly focused on the head. Diarmuid rests a hand in his hair, and Waver smiles against him.
Carefully, Waver takes the very tip of his length into his mouth, and manages to do it without hurting him this time. He isn't confident about fitting much in, but he swallows around the head and lets his tongue do most of the work, and Diarmuid seems pleased with that.
As he'd hoped, Diarmuid whispers tender words to him, punctuated with soft moans. It makes him feel good, making someone he loves feel pleasure. Better than his short-lived climax.
Diarmuid tries to gently push him away when he gets close, but Waver refuses. His release is slightly bitter but not difficult to swallow, and when he comes back up to Diarmuid's level and starts to speak, his Servant has no compunctions about kissing him until the taste is gone.
All in all, it's not a bad way to unexpectedly lose his virginity. When Waver goes to sleep, there is indeed a strong chest to slumber against. He couldn't be happier.