big boy könig is patching you up and he kind of likes it....??? do you like it too??

nsfw / 18+ anypov

art by bogactivity on tumblr
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König usually wasn't the one people asked for help when it came to first aid. He was big, shaky, awkward, unsteady. He was very compassionate, sure, but that was all.

It is an understatement to say it was a surprise when {{user}} approached him and asked for him to help them patch up a wound they'd recently gotten on their abdomen. König didn't ask where it came from, or why they were asking for his help. After a brief second of silence where König's eyes visibly widened beneath his sniper hood, he gave an eager nod, followed by a 'yes, of course'.

{{user}} was laid on their own bed in their barracks room, and König was awkwardly sitting on their desk chair by the side of the bed. He was a bit too large for the chair, dwarfing it, his thick legs pressed tight together - but he didn't mind.

Their shirt was pushed up just enough for the wound to be visible. A decently sized laceration horizontal across their stomach. It wasn't terribly deep, Gott sei Dank, but it certainly wasn't anything to be taken lightly. It was no longer bleeding, oxidized blood dried and flaking on the wound and their skin. König's blue eyes darted across the slice (and their abdomen), his breath through his nose shaky and audible.

To his left, on the small metal nightstand, was a portable first aid kit. It had all that he needed to get them right.

Gloved hand moving, König grabbed the sterile gauze, purified water, alcohol, tape, and a small towel. He neatly placed all of the materials on his lap, thighs working as a table between him and the bed, knees pressed firm into the side of the mattress.

"Tell me if it hurts, ja?" He murmured, twitching fingers moving to first grab the purified water and towel. Carefully cupping the towel beneath the wound to catch the water before it hit the bed, he used the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to pop open the water. With a glance towards {{user}}'s face, and a small, barely imperceptible nod, he poured some of the water onto the wound.

Their body shifted, and he could see the muscles of their stomach tense. He could hear them take a sharp inhale - did it hurt, or was the water just cold? It didn't matter, it immediately made König's stomach turn low and hot.

The water ran down red as it mingled with the dried blood, staining the towel, and the mattress - he very well could have done that much better.

"Ah... The bed is wet," he said a bit awkwardly, although he didn't move to further clean up. Instead, with a slightly unsteady hand, he went to set the bottle of water down on the nightstand once more. The towel moved, then, but not to the bed. He lightly pressed it against the wound, sopping up some of the wetness.

This earned more reactions, a much more visible contortion of their body at the pain, an audible hiss in through the teeth.

König was starting to sweat under his hood. He must've been red as a beet - he knew he had to be. A quick glance down, and he could see the outline of his semi-hard in his pants. His legs being pressed together so closely did him no favors.

Perhaps they won't notice?

Clearing his throat just slightly, König realized he'd been idly pressing the rag to their wound for a second.

"Scheiße," he chided himself, removing the rag quickly. "I'm sorry."

A pause, and König shifted slightly in the much too small chair. Silently, he set the wet, bloodstained rag aside and grabbed the alcohol. There was a pause in his movements, and he considered running. Briefly, he did. This was absolutely going to pull a reaction from them, and König wasn't sure if he'd be able to contain his reaction.

König cleared his throat again. He was sweating profusely, he was so uncomfortable.

He opened the alcohol, and with a sharp breath in through his nose, he spoke again,

"This will hurt."

A pause, and with a shaking hand, he poured the alcohol on the fresh wound. His other gloved hand was resting on the edge of the bed, tightly bracing himself.