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crystalsexarch · 4 years

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Argy-bargy - E

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “I could...I could eat you.”

“Please do not.”

“I would not. But I could.”

Explicit. Specific male WoL Bas'ir Bahani. Takes place before ARR, when G'raha Tia and the future Warrior of Light studied together. Tonight, though, they attend a party and quickly go from making a scene to making ugly, drunken love.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV Writing Challenge

It began at a relaxed gathering of young academics and ended exactly where you’d expect.

After exams. Before the next semester. A smattering of departments coalescing in leisure with what would likely be the most decadent meal of the entire year, and all but certainly the most libatious. Bas’ir Bahani and G’raha Tia had emptied more than a few bottles by the time mouths started flapping with accusations and insults and—

“You delusional buffoon!” Bas’ir said, landing his index finger beneath Raha’s chin. The Keeper was one of those people who never slurred in his cups, even if the cups had him grounded and seeing gods. A trio of historians watched on with wary eyes. Bas’ir knew none of them by name, but even if he had...who is to say he’d have remembered? “As if arms are the only component, the only factor to weigh here! Why, you’ve not—”

Raha pulled his head away and laughed into his palm. “You think…? You think this is about arms? Ha!” He rolled his right sleeve up and flexed. “Remember, you, whence these muscles came. Archery. With archery, I would sooner prevail over...over...well, over you in any case.”

Bas'ir reared forward and shook his open palm before his eyes. “Menphina, you can’t even remember who we’re on about. This is precisely why the likes of you could never hope to overcome a true poet-lord of Allag. My ‘storybooks’ have done me well, I say.”

“Bas’ir Bahani!” Raha said, throwing his arms into the air. A few more heads turned, including an important one stationed near the back of the common room. “Bas’ir Bahani, I will lift you from the ground and toss you into beddle. Bat. Battle, that is. Then we shall see how you fare.”

Krile Baldesion approached the quarrel and tugged at Raha’s shirt. “What has gotten into you two?” she said, exchanging urgent glances with the onlookers. They looked every which way, as if denying responsibility.

Bas’ir leaned forward with his hands on his hips, swaying like the scarf that dangled at his neck. “This man...this insufferable man is decrying that noble order of Allag. Besmirching those poet-lords who came before by insinuating he—” Bas’ir jabbed the Seeker’s belly with his index. “—could best one in battle. Why, he hardly understands the—”

“You are doing any and all besmirching,” Raha said, grabbing the hand that jabbed. Its owner lurched forward onto one knee, hissing. “Your idea of combat is beyond juvenile.” Raha turned to Krile, unphased by Bas’ir’s squirming. “See how he flounders at the slightest physical inconvenience. A mockery of his own creed. I say, this much is clear to each observer.”

Krile’s eyes danced between their faces and the stabler folks watching with mild reproach. “The only thing that’s clear here is that the two of you want for supervision,” she said. Sighing mightily for one so small, she took them both by the hand and tugged. Bas’ir scrambled to a standing position. “I am making the executive decision to remove you both from this celebration.”

The pair protested—loudly and repeatedly—but ultimately followed the Lalafell out of the room, shamefully slouching as if she’d grabbed them by their ears.

Krile walked ahead of the drunken fools, who’d apparently overcome their differences at some point on their journey down the hallway.

Bas’ir had his arm around Raha. “You are so beautiful,” he said. “I could...I could eat you.”

“Please do not.”

“I would not. But I could.”

Somehow, their drunken swaying evened out, so they could amble in a relatively straight line when linked. Krile checked every now and then over her shoulder. “Do you know where you are?”

“We’re missing the party,” Bas’ir said.

“The party, I am certain, is not missing you.” Krile set her gaze forward again. “Though I am proud of you two for carrying on this far without collapsing. My room is closer to the common room, but I have a feeling I would regret leaving you there on your lonesome…”

“Ah! This is my room!” Raha said, pointing at a door not too far in the distance.

It was Bas’ir’s room. Krile rubbed her forehead. “Close enough. If I leave you here, will you stay and drink water?”

Both Miqo’te mumbled in agreement.

“Excellent.” A sinister thought painted her eyebrows. “And...and I trust you’ll get along?”

“All too well,” Bas’ir said.

Raha nodded. “Best of friends.”

Thus, Krile wrangled Bas’ir’s room key from him and opened the door. Her friends waddled in smelling absolutely toxic. She made sure they each had a full complement of Lalafell-approved beverages at the ready, helped them take their boots off, and urged them both onto the bed. Whatever happened next, she did not particularly want to be around for.

Silence, it turns out, is what happened next. A long bout of silence, spare the creaking of wood, cricket-song, and heavy breathing. The bed was large enough for both of them to spread their limbs without making contact, but sooner or later someone’s arm ended up on someone’s chest, someone’s ear flopped over another’s. And then:

“Raha…”

Bas’ir’s voice was husky and grave, so Raha answered in kind. “Yes?”

“How come...how come you’re such a right bastard?”

Raha groaned, tossed and turned himself to a kneeling position. He held a blanket like bat wings at his back. “Well, Bas’ir? Do you love me or do you not?”

The Keeper blinked and drunkenly wondered what kind of insect was trying to come up through his throat. “Yes.”

“That’s no proper answer. I’ve given you two options, old fool.”

“You’ve given me none.” This room was too tight, to say nothing of the clothes suffocating Bas’ir’s body. He ripped the scarf off, threw it who knows where. “The truth is I despissssse you.”

“Oh, is that right?” Raha’s hand moved to the first button of his shirt.

“That’s right.” Bas’ir squinted and gestured with his chin. “Well, keep going, then. Let me see that chest I loathe so completely.”

With a sneer, he unbuttoned. “So completely.”

“So utterly. Your form, your face...everything about you enrages me.” He leaned up and pulled his sweater over his head, shook out his ears. “The thought of being with you makes my heart flutter like the wings of some tiny, ugly bird.”

“Your words. Like the poetry you so admire.” The shirt fell off his shoulders. “Behold!”

“Gods! My eyes!” Bas’ir shielded himself with his forearm. His other hand fiddled at his belt, but couldn’t manage. “See, I’m shaking with rage.”

Raha lost his trousers. “Erotic rage!”

“Erotic enragement, yes, heavens!” Steadying both hands now, he unbuckled, unzipped, and shimmied his pants down to his knees. “The idea of spending my days, my life with you...how it makes me shudder.”

“Roll over, will you?” He held the band of his smallclothes down and let his cock bob free.

“Ah yes.” Bas’ir turned himself around and clawed preemptively at the pillows. “That thing you wield at the hip. How it wounds me.”

“Let me.” He clapped his hands on Bas’ir’s ass and shifted closer, cornered his tongue at his lips.

“Oh I will. Only because of all men in this world, you’re the only one who makes me feel this way.” He buried his face in the pillow. “Disgusted, of course. Since I despise you so veritably.”

“Yes, of course.” He started pressing with his finger.

“Ah ta ta ta ta! By the gods, oil me, or I’ll tell you how I really feel.”

Raha paused and thought about where he was, where he could find what he needed. The nightstand. Dick absentmindedly in hand, he shuffled over and retrieved the bottle. “Bas’ir,” he said.

The Keeper turned his head on the pillow, let himself breathe. “Yes?”

“I think I know how you really feel.” He slicked his fingers, smirking, before plunging the first digit inside. Bas’ir tensed around him with a whimper. “I just don’t think you can look me in the eye and say it.”

The Keeper tried to focus on being stretched, tried to ignore the heat beneath his eyes. “Please, I beg you. Act less sober.”

Raha’s eyes felt heavy. “Liquid courage, so they say…” He yanked the base of Bas’ir’s tail before slipping another finger inside, toying with the embarrassing idea about slipping a ring on his finger someday instead.

The sex they had was ugly. Clumsy. For all their precise verbal dances, the drink helped them forget the steps to lovemaking and gave them opportunity to learn them all over again, this time in the wrong order. Hands ended up in strange places. Legs flopped everywhere. More clothes came off. They flipped each other and gave up words for growls and grunts. Bas’ir managed to come eventually, stroking himself when Raha rolled his hips against him fast enough. He shook and helplessly sullied his chest, the bed, his friend. It wasn’t a particularly good orgasm—alcohol always numbed him—but it lasted for a long time. Not long enough for his companion, however, who fucked him ever faster before finally collapsing onto his wet chest, cackling.

I can’t come!” Raha said. “ Gods, I can’t come!”

Bas’ir threw his head back and yelled. “You have to, or I’m going to explode!”

“I swear I can’t!” He spoke through fits of laughter, rubbing nose over sternum, missing the mess by luck alone. “I’ve tried everything...I’m...I’m going to die like this...”

“My poor, miserable creature. My poor quivering coil of love. Lust. Of lust.”

“Help me, won’t you?” Raha looked like a lost animal. “You must have a secret somewhere.”

It turns out he had several, but he thought one particular treatment would do in their place. The Keeper groaned and pushed his lover back, shuddering when Raha's dick slipped out. “I will try my best. Because of how I feel about you.”

“Yes.” Raha flattened himself upon the bed and tensed his legs. “Show me how you feel.”

Blushing, Bas’ir positioned himself over the throbbing point at Raha’s thighs and lowered himself upon it. It still felt good. Always would, he figured, to let his favorite person fill him. Once he’d taken everything in, he started moving. Though it burned his thighs, the reaction was immediate. The Seeker was all songs and hisses, gasps and groans. Every now and then he’d raise his head in a frenzy, like he was trying not to come, and then he’d stare drunkenly at Bas’ir’s hard work before flopping back onto the bed and pressing his hips up.

Bas’ir wanted so badly to deliver. Whatever it took. He could not give this man the truth, but he knew how to be useful. That must have been the reason—the only reason—he leaned forward and took Raha’s ear between his teeth. “What do you want to hear from me?” He kept riding. His dick, by now half-hard again, rubbed against Raha’s formidable abdomen.

“The truth,” Raha said. “Once, at least. We’re drunk. I could very well forget.”

“Hmm.” He trailed from his ear to his neck and sucked. “This truth is unforgettable.” Then he bit.

Raha clasped his arms around the Keeper and held him hard, fucked him harder, before finally uncoiling inside. Beat by beat, pent up energy poured inside. It was a happy feeling, a feeling of relief for both of them. And it was a lot. Before Raha even pulled out, Bas’ir’s prize was dripping from his ass onto the covers.

Yes, Bas'ir was thankful Krile had taken them to his room instead of stowing them in hers.

But he was even more thankful he hadn’t had to say it.

"I have never come while drunk before," Raha said, sweeping his hands over Bas'ir's back. "You are a man of many talents."

The comment took the Keeper by surprise. He blinked and blinked, until he remembered Raha would be able to feel the nervous lashes on his chest. "Cleaning up will...be less than ideal."

"You will be okay." He held tighter. Held in a wholesome way with a wholesome smile on his face. The lust had been sucked out of him. The drunkenness had not. "You will be okay, Bas'ir."

"Hmm. Er..." Why wouldn't his heartbeat just shut. Up. Could hardly think with it blaring throughout his drunken body. Alcohol amplified each hit, but it couldn't drown out his affection. Not entirely. Nothing could. Never would. "You...you too?"

"I mean it." Straining, his pulled his head up and kissed the tip of Bas'ir's ear. "You're going to be okay."

Notes:

#g'raha tia #ffxivwrite2020 #ff14 fanfic #ffxiv fanfic #mywriting #have mercy

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