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The void of darkness has been sealed, Unei and Doga able to achieve what their originals first longed for after many years of trying: Xande's covenant was no more. And yet... there was still something left.
G'raha turned left and right on his sleeping mat, heavy thoughts making it impossible for his mind and body to turn to the comfort of sleep. Soon, once the researchers of Saint Coinach’s Find completed their final records, he would seal the crystal tower.
What he hid from his other companions of NOAH: He'd seal the tower with himself inside.
With Unei and Doga's blood unlocking the royal Allagan power that rested inside him and thus, giving him the power to control the Crystal Tower, the true meaning of the words of his forebearers hit him.
G'raha would finally make the ancient dreams of Allag and his ancestors come true.
And yet...
It hurts him to lie to the others like this after the time and resources they had spent on researching the Crystal Tower. Together. As NOAH.
And it hurt even more as the Miqo'te's thoughts went to a certain Hyur. Meteor.
He... he, who had done the most dangerous and tiring tasks of them all. Eliminating deadly threats in the tower, besting Xande, and the Cloud of Darkness.
G'raha's heart beats loudly in his chest as he remembers the excitement he felt while traversing through the World of Darkness with the adventurer, seeing him fight without a hint of fear in his eyes, and just being near him.
Warrior of Light, eikon-slayer, ender of the black wolf... As many mysteries as names coursed around him.
G'raha would've expected that person to be… well, how do you expect a literal hero like them to be? Of great build? With a hardened look that could strike fear in anyone? Or perhaps blinded by the love of the people and multitudes of riches getting to their head?
No, he was nothing like that.
Over the span of a few weeks during their journey surrounding the Crystal Tower, he has gotten to properly know the man behind the grand titles.
Meteor is down-to-earth, kind, and ever helpful when he’s called for aid, no matter how trivial the task may be. His humour and jokes are beyond awful but somehow they still manage to make G’raha crack a smile. He always carries a charm in form of a chocobo with himself he has lovingly dubbed ‘Buddy’, the same as his Grand Company mount. A most strange yet also endearing knack in G’raha’s sight.
The Miqo’te’s face reddened as he snapped out of his thoughts. When did his feelings for the man start to change from friendly admiration to a serious crush?
His mind recalled the first time he felt this strange feeling in his heart.
One day at the Saint Coinach's Find the Miqo'te had tried to re-enact a certain skilled shot with his bow he had seen the Hyur do back when he had lain eyes on the man from the shadows as he went collecting the different element-enhanced aethersands.
He didn’t understand why Rammbroes wouldn’t allow him to accompany him. Of course he wasn’t slayer of three primals or the one who ended the dangerous presence of the Garlean empire, but still! He was just as capable of helping! Technically speaking he didn’t even have the authority to tell him so!
He realised after a short while how lacking his skill as an Archer was in comparison to the other man as he kept missing the target more times than hitting it.
He was not losing his temper about this, no. An archer is all about control and calmness, his instructors had said and he kept telling himself in his mind…
…as he missed the target again…
…and again…
…and yet again…
His hands were shaking slightly and his tail at some point had begun to swish wildly from one side to the other as he silently cursed under his breath. Where and how did he learn to master such powerful skills and be talented in multiple vocations?
He was ready to simply give up and forget about when he turned around and spotted a very familiar face leaning on some barrels and grinning. “Training not going well?”
G'raha’s tail stiffened immediately as Meteor caught him in the act and he fumbled for the right words but was cut off by the adventurer instead. “I was just jesting with you!”, he quickly exclaimed with raised hands before pointing to the bow in his hands. “What were you trying to do?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, I was just ... trying to shoot my arrows...like you.” G'raha's voice wavered at the end, realising how much of a fool he made of himself without noticing the presence of the other the whole time.
“In that case you were quite successful in your endeavour because it reminds me of when I first joined the Archer’s guild!”, the Hyur chuckled at his own joke before catching himself when he saw G’raha folding his arms. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Really. Let me help you.”
G’raha was unsure at first, but Meteor gave him an encouraging look. “If I make one more joke I’ll let you use me as target practice instead,” he said with a smile and the Miqo’te couldn’t help but smile too.
Meteor showed him different exercises to properly stretch his body and fingers, while asking, “Do you have any sort of pain in your neck, back or shoulder when you’re training?”
G’raha rolled his neck and shoulders, searching for any sign of discomfort. “Apart from the usual sore muscles afterwards, nay…. Although….”
“Yes?”
“My wrists have been feeling uncomfortable as of lately.” He said while turning and flexing his wrist a little.
“Both of them? Hmm... Can you aim an arrow at the target? Just so I can see how you hold your bow,” the other asked and G'raha complied, readying an arrow.
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the man move and jumped when he felt hands settle on his, almost releasing the arrow by accident. “Quite skittish, are we?” Meteor huffed from behind him, his breath tickling G’raha’s ears. The man’s chest pressed flush into his back. He tried not to think about it too much.
Meteor shifted the other’s fingers one by one until they were in the correct position. They were bigger than his and calloused from the experience of numerous battles. The roughness didn’t feel unpleasant though. “There, that should do it. The little finger and thumb do not hold the bow string and are in a relaxed position. Same thing goes for the bow grip: hold it relaxed, but steady. Don’t clench them too much, it just makes your arm shake which in turn makes the bow move.”
His hands trailed up his arms -- G’raha hoped he didn’t notice the shudder that followed in the wake of the feather-light touches-- and settled on his shoulders. “Other than that, your posture is good, albeit a bit tense.” The man leaned over the side to look at the other directly, a big smile on his face. “Mayhap a massage will do you well?” He pressed into G’raha’s shoulders for good measure, which in turn earned him a surprised squeal.
“Ah, please- that’s not necessary—”
“I’ve been told multiple times that I have very gifted hands—”
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you!”
“You’ll feel like a whole new pers—”
“Meteor!”
At the shout of a deep voice the Hyur immediately ceased with his scuffle and turned to the direction of the call. Rammbroes came into sight with an alarmed look on his face. “Thank Twelve you’re here…” he began, slightly out of breath. Meteor gave him a confused look.
” ‘Tis good to see you too, Rammbroes. Is aught amiss?”
“Aye. You need to come to the Crystal Tower this instant!” His eyes went to G'raha. “I know what you’re thinking, and my answer is still no.”
“But I—!” G’raha tried to object but Rammbroes has already turned to the Warrior of Light. “I’ll tell you the details on the way, it’s urgent!”
The warrior didn’t miss the flash of jealousy across G’raha’s face and gently nudged him. “Next time I’m here we’ll train together some more, okay?” The other nodded simply, his mouth a thin line before adding: “Pray stay safe.”
Meteor nodded and turned to follow Rammbroes, giving G’raha one last wave before leaving out of sight.
G’raha took a moment to gather himself, anger but also….something else making his heart throb and head swim.
He didn’t understand that feeling until much later, when they made it out of the World of Darkness alive. After the hectic events, everyone from NOAH agreed to a break for rest at the Saint Coinach’s Find before starting with the last preparations on sealing the Crystal Tower and made their way for the exit.
Save for G’raha, who stood away from the group, his gaze focused on the oncoming sunset, the hues of red and orange painting a beautiful scene in the distance. His ears flickered as he heard familiar steps come near.
“What a sight… You don’t get to see the sun go down from the top of the Crystal Tower every day.” Meteor comments beside him. G’raha looked to the other man, at the satisfied smile on his lips. “The perfect way to round it off, isn’t it?” He glances at the Miqo’te, who jerks his gaze back to the sun as their eyes met.
“I-Indeed…” he curses himself inwardly at the stutter. “‘This seems to be the end of our journey then…” he mutters, more to himself than the other.
“Where a door closes, another one opens.” Meteor said, not noticing G’raha’s implications. “What are you going to do next?”
“I…” G’raha hesitates. “…I don’t know, to be honest.” He lies.
“Why not accompany me then, for the time being?”
G’raha’s head whips around to regard Meteor directly. “What?”
“I mean, why not? That way, I can continue helping you with your training.”
G’raha just stares at him, red eyes wide open.
“It’s also more fun that way! Travelling to new places, making new memories, meeting new people—Ah, I could introduce you to Minfilia and perhaps you could become part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, she’d surely appreciate your wisdom about the Allagan history! Besides, everyone has a partner they always work together with - well, except for me… I must admit I’ve actually tried to talk to my minions more than once when I felt particularly lonely on my travels…” he continues rambling on, oblivious to how G’raha’s expression changes from disbelief to upset.
“I guess you could also go to Gridania and join the Archer’s guild-- although…” the man’s eyebrows knitted together. “There’s this guy. Silvairre, he's called. Keeps his quiver up his arse, if you know what I mean. I reckon you'd be fine, since you're a Seeker and all but still..."
Meteor turned to G’raha as he didn’t get the usual huff he’d hoped for. “G’raha…?”
The Miqo’te’s head hung low, his hair casting a shadow over his eyes.
“I…You—” he didn’t know how to begin. “You’re actually not playing tricks with me this time?” he nearly whispered, clearly flabbergasted. No way he was serious.
“I—Gods, G’raha, no!” Meteor exclaimed. “I’d love to have you travel with me!”
G’raha’s fiddling hands still. ‘Love…I think I understand now.’ He feels heat unwillingly flame up to his cheeks.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to search for a different travelling partner.” G’raha said and at once he feels as if the words have taken all the energy in his body. “I will probably have to return to Sharlayan after this is over.”
“Oh…” Meteor’s expression went grim. “So that’s why you’re upset.”
The Miqo’te chose to stay quiet.
A deep silence stretched out between them, both deep in thought. Bit by bit he felt something inside him bubbling up, red, hot and bitter.
For fate to turn against him like this now of all times… What kind of sick, twisted joke-
A hand encloses his own and G’raha startles out of his inner tumult, anger blown away in an instant.
Meteor utters a quick apology, mistaking his surprise for pain as he turns the hand to a different angle with utmost care, afraid to hurt his friend more, examining a couple of small cuts G’raha hadn’t noticed reopening. He wants to pull his hand away out of the gentle grasp but…
As always when Meteor was too close to him for his own good the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest set in, rendering him helpless against his own will.
‘Just pull your hand away, won’t you!’ He curses himself and his weak heart but found himself nevertheless unable to do it.
“These look bad…no wonder they hurt. Small wounds like these on the hand can turn rather nasty if you don’t tend to them.” His voice is full of concern as he reached into the pouch at his hip with one hand, the other still holding G’raha’s, who anxiously wonders if his face matches the colour of his hair and eyes. “Ah, where is it now…” The Hyur murmurs to himself, rummaging in the bag, not noticing G’raha taking the rare opportunity to observe his face and etch every small detail he could find into his mind, admiring the way the red glow of the sun that slowly sank before them cast soft hues on his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the crinkles of his eyes…
His grey eyes lit up for a moment before he halted and clicked his tongue, muttering “Wrong item...” with an almost boyish pout.
A tongue darts out between chapped lips to wet them and G’raha, eyes transfixed to the motion, mimics it unconsciously before he realizes what he’s doing and stops himself. Luckily, the other man didn’t seem to have taken notice. How can one man, this man, the Warrior of Light for all the Gods‘ sakes, have such a sharp mind in moments of battle and yet be so ignorant to being one‘s object of desire?
“You needn’t—” A flustered G’raha tries to interject but the other man has already pulled out a potion with a triumphant shout. “There it is!” G’raha bit the inside of his cheek, lest the Hyur notice his lips curling up.
Instead of simply letting go of the Archer’s hand - it’s not like he was bleeding all over the place - to have both of his own hands free to use, he unfastens the cork of the potion with his teeth, the droplets of blue liquid threatening to spill onto the man’s armor. He doen’t seem to care much about as he spits the cork out to the side and turns the bottle fully upside down, soaking G’raha’s hand with its contents unnecessarily generously. The cuts heal with a glow and shimmer at once, broken skin rebuilding itself to its original state without even the hint of a scar remaining as a reminder.
“Heh, see? Much better like this, wouldn’t you agree?“
“I guess so… a few drops would’ve sufficed just fine—“
“You know, your hand is delicate.”
“M— what?!” G’raha’s ears pricked forward. Did he hear wrong?!
“Oh, I mean, your skin feels so soft now, maybe it’s a side effect of the potion?” Meteor wondered, and with one last brush of his thumb over the knuckles of G‘raha‘s hand, let it go at last. All the while wearing that thrice-damned innocent smile as if he hasn’t just said something awkward. In retrospect though, he probably had simply meant it as a compliment…of some sort.
The things that came out of that man’s mouth sometimes… That he could make his heart leap faster than a chocobo at any given moment was unbelievable…and dangerous.
“G’raha, your tail…it’s completely puffed up.”
With a jump he half-turns and grabs his tail, smoothing down the hairs hastily. “’Tis getting cold here… that’s all.” Meteor hums and nods in an agreeing manner, his smile ever-present; in a way it made G’raha nervous, not being able to tell what he was smiling about.
It seems like the Hyur is about to say something but then he’s interrupted by the sound of his linkpearl ringing. “Hello?” he lifts two fingers to his ear to answer the call, before he cringes. “Gods, Cid, I’m not deaf!” he replies loudly. “Yes, we are still here. Sorry, I should’ve told you guys to start without us. Hm?”
Meteor’s smile fades, a serious expression slowly setting in instead as he continues listening. “I’ll take a blind guess and say trouble is happening, judging by the urgency in your voice?” His eyes skim to G’raha’s before looking away; a rare sigh left his lips.
“…Another primal now?” G’raha’s ears flick upon hearing the man’s quiet muttering.
”...Ah, no, I was simply thinking aloud… Minfilia tried calling me? Strange, something must be disturbing the signal on my side then. In Gridania? Very well, I’ll head there post-haste. Thank you, my friend.”
“Duty calling for its hero?” G’raha asks, although he is sure he knew the answer to it already.
“Aye. So much for spending the evening with warm food and good mead. Lucky you.” The hero lets out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. Was that a blush? Ah, no; it must’ve been the last rays of the sunset on his face playing a trick on G’raha’s eyes.
“See you… in a couple of days then?”
“Hm, I’ll make sure to find a moment to come to the camp if possible. I can’t leave my friend and student hanging, after all.”
“But surely you—hey, wait!”
G’raha calls out as aether began whirling around them. Meteor has his eyes closed in concentration, but G’raha knows he heard him -- otherwise he wouldn’t be grinning while whispering the incantation to teleport under his breath. His body levitates of the ground, dissipating into the air with a purple glow and then vanishing into nothing.
Sigh. ‘He left just like that so I can’t protest again…’ Despite this, G’raha can’t find it in himself to be mad.
How caring it had been of him to say that. And yet G’raha mustn’t forget that Meteor saw him as a friend – a friend he cares deeply for – and only that.
‘He can’t find out about this, ever,’ G’raha told himself, trying to ignore the sting the words left in his heart.
His hands snake under the blanket, both shame and lust at the same time twisting in his stomach. He prays to every single of the twelve gods to please forgive him for the debauchery he was about to fall into. Why did this have to happen now of all times?
‘No way…’ G’raha thought hazily. Was it time for his heat already? Good gods, anything but that. He wouldn’t be able to stand being near the Warrior in that state at all without going crazy, impossible. He’d have to travel to Revenant's Toll – best to go as soon as the sun rose – and hole himself up in the inn until his heat passed. This wasn’t his first heat… but it’s never felt like …this.
He’s never actively had the desire to mate, a more than strange thing for a Miqo’te. He’s spent most of the time researching Allagan history to its last detail, after all, and hasn’t been particularly interested in anyone else.
Until now.
That would mean he couldn’t see the man for a couple of days…’ ‘Tis for the best… I don’t deserve for him to look at me…’ he thought as he slowly untied his pants, lifting himself up to push them down to his thighs.
Shivers overcome him as he feels the cold hit his skin and he grips his clothed erection within his smallclothes with one hand, while the other slightly pushes up his shirt, drawing teasing circles over his stomach and lower area. G’raha lets out a shuddering sigh and lets his eyes close for the moment, focusing on the sensation of his fingers.
A vivid fantasy sprang into his mind: The warrior’s usually soft grey eyes growing wide upon catching the Miqo’te touching himself, shock turning into anger. Disgust.
The thought should frighten him, appal him. Make him stop.
Instead it just turns him on even more.
He truly was disgusting.
As he feels himself harden, his hand dips under the fabric, passing the soft patch of hair and going deeper, until…
“H-Hah!” He clamps a hand over his mouth as he lets out a sudden moan at the direct contact, fearing someone might have heard him.
His heart hammers against his chest in rhythm with the throbs of his dick in his grip as he stills, and listens, his ears straining for alert voices.
When he is sure that nobody heard him, he slowly begins stroking himself with a tight grip, keeping his mouth shut with his hand to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. His dick is harder than ever before and feels pleasantly warm against his cold hand. It’s been so long, way too long, since he let himself indulge in this…
Meteor slowly steps closer to G’raha, his glare boring into him. G’raha curls inward, holding his hand up in defense. “Meteor…please- forgive me—”
“You say you’re sorry but just look at you. Cock. Fully. Hard.” G'raha cringes at the punctuation of the crass words. “Go on, lie down and continue. I dare you to.” The warrior urges him on.
G'raha breaths a shallow “What?” before feeling a weight on his left shoulder. The Hyur presses against his shoulder with his boot, shoving the other down to until he was lying flat. “You heard me right. Touch yourself, for me.”
Scared as he is, he can’t help but obey anyway.
G'raha can’t bear to look at Meteor, who is looming over his prone figure like a tower while watching him intently, as his hand goes back down to his erection. His heart feels like it could burst through his chest at any moment.
It is quiet in the tent save for G'raha's strained moans as he resumed stroking himself.
Meteor huffs. “That’s how you like it, eh? Feels far better when the friend you’re getting off to is right there and watching you, doesn’t it?”
G'raha whimpers, both embarrassed and aroused by the words, but doesn’t say anything.
The man leans his weight on his foot placed on G’raha's shoulder, digging into it with the heel of the boot. “I asked you something.” He hisses and G'raha yelps.
“Ahh-! Yes, yes, it does!” Meteor took the pressure off the boot, a smile as unsettling as innocent curling around his lips. “That’s a good cat.” He praises him with a mocking voice, watching as G'raha's ears press flat against his head at the insult.
And yet he can’t stop himself from softly moaning out the Warrior’s name against his hand, inwardly begging for more.
G'raha quickly feels the tingling heat in his stomach grow stronger. He’s going to release soon.
He is more than just embarrassed thinking about how the daydream of his friend humiliating him derives from some messed up part in his mind and is going to be the cause for his fast-oncoming orgasm.
His friend, the very first person he ever fell in love with. The person who he wants to travel with. Who he wants to be loved by.
Who he wants to breed with and call his mate.
With a low moan he rolls onto his side, burying his face in the soft pillow. “Meteor…” he whines in a needy voice. He wants him. He wants him so much.
Twelve, he is so close now. Just a bit more…
“Are you going to come soon, cat? I can it see it in your face, the way you started biting your lower lip.” Jeers the voice of Meteor above him, applying just a bit of weight on G'raha's shoulder, reminding him to answer.
“Yes... I am...” he groans, his legs slightly shaking.
The Hyur crosses his arm at that. “Don’t you think you should ask me for permission first?” G’raha’s hand ceases touching himself immediately as if he had been slapped on the wrist – the words stung like one - and the guilt from the very beginning comes back once more.
“After all,…” he bends down. “…You’re jerking off to me.”
‘Anything but that!’ Every fiber in his body wants to scream but instead he resortes to biting his tongue. He’s right. How disgustingly selfish of him.
He hates himself for how much he secretly wants his permission, as demeaning as it is. “Ah...”
“Yes? What is it, dear friend?” Meteor’s honeyed voice almost sounds affectionate. Loving.
Of course, G’raha knows that he is being delusional and it‘s simply another mock at him. He also knows that he should stop yearning for any kind of validation; he doesn’t deserve sweet words and praise.
“Is there something you want to ask?” Meteor continues. G’raha could imagine all too well the gleeful grin he would be wearing right now.
He visibly struggles to do it. He thought getting caught by Meteor was the worst thing that could happen to him but this was an absolute low. Never has he felt as horribly embarrassed in his whole life as now.
“M-may I, uh, come... please?” As soon as the words leave his mouth his face scrunches up, the words leaving a distasteful feeling in his mouth, even making his tail puff up.
The man chuckles; it is such a beautiful sound to the Miqo’te that makes his heart jump every time, even now. “Hmm, I’m not sure… didn’t seem very earnest to me.” He pretends to seriously ponder over it. “Do it again and put some more... enthusiasm into it.” Another chuckle from him and again, G'raha’s heart leapt and dropped low simultaneously. Oh, how sickeningly and disgustingly sweet this cruelty was. Well, it’s what he deserves, after all.
After a long moment of inner conflict, he gathers up enough courage to ask again. “I beg of you, will you please allow me to come?” he surprisingly manages to say without stuttering and adds with heat on his face, “I need it. And I need you.”
The weight on his shoulder eases and G’raha instinctively rolls it to get some feeling back into it. Meteor gives a long hum; he seems pleased. “You need me, hmm?”
“Yes, please...” he immediately answers without thinking.
“Will you listen to what I say?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Meteor presses with a hint of edge in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Are you lying?”
“No!” he fervently shakes his head.
“Good, then look at me and listen.”
G’raha’s eyes flutter open. Even though it is dark in the tent he can still make out Meteor’s satisfied grin and glinting eyes. Like a predator watching his prey. A shiver, hot and cold at the same time, runs down his spine. Yes, he was his prey.
“Stroke yourself. Slow.”
His erection, red and hard and leaking with pre-cum from the tip twitches as he closes his hand around it, almost as if it was happy about getting attention again. “Meteor…” he breathes out as he begins stroking himself. “Please, I- hah- can't anymore.” He tries to beg but the man simply smiles at his whining.
“Keep going.”
G’raha answers with a groan through clenched teeth but doesn’t dare disobey. He wants to keep seeing that oh so beautiful and dazzling smile that makes him look as warm as the sun itself and shows his small dimple and—
“What are you thinking about, G'raha?” The purr with which his name has been called sends a jolt straight to his dick and elicits a choked moan from G'raha, catching him out of his thoughts. He said my name, he finally said my name, is his first thought before realizing that it must’ve been a trick.
And it was working, gods be damned.
He tries not to look too embarrassed at his own foolishness (but given the way Meteor’s eyes crinkle in amusement at him it’s obvious he knows) and instead bites his own tongue, hard, harder, not stopping even when he tastes iron. The newfound pain helps. He concentrates on the sensation of his sharp canines and blood filling his mouth and pain instead of his erection.
“Are you thinking about me by any chance, G'raha?” Of course he is. He knew lying won’t get him anywhere, not like this, not with Meteor staring him down while he‘s masturbating. So he nods in defeat.
“Do tell me then.”
G’raha swallows, his throat bobbing noticeably. His tongue hurts when he speaks and the aftertaste of blood and saliva left in his mouth makes his insides curl but he ignores it. “I was thinking how… cute your smile is.” Good gods, someone just end him already.
“Heh…” With a huff Meteor squats down, his head resting on his hand. G'raha's eyes only briefly dart down to his lower section before snapping back up. “How innocent, coming from a pervert like you. Don’t turn your eyes away like you don’t actually enjoy hearing it.” G'raha could practically feel Meteor's eyes raking over his body, slowly taking in his messy state and surely taking delight in the way he shyly twists under that gaze. “Tell me more.” He says casually as if they were having a normal conversation, his eyes landing on G'raha's erection. When the Miqo’te tries to move his knee up to hide it a strong hand wraps around his ankle.
“No.” Meteor shoots him a glare and he pulls with slight force. G’raha doesn’t offer any resistance and his leg slumps down again with a soft thud. When Meteor lets go it leaves tingles behind on his over-sensitive skin. For a moment he considers doing it again – he really wants to feel his hand again – but decides against it; he is being too selfish now.
Meteor is still looking at him, expecting an answer.
“Your smile… and your eyes are really… beautiful…”
“Mhm, go on.”
“…Everything about you is beautiful…”
“Good, good, keep going.”
“Ah—When you laugh I feel so happy, so blessed…Or when you tell one of your bad jokes to lighten the mood…”
“Go faster.”
“And you help me, train me, spend so much time with me, even though—” he bit his lip. “Even though all of Eorzea needs you as their Warrior…”
“You’re almost there…faster.”
“I—I really want to travel by your side at all times, become as strong as you...get closer to you...”
“Just that?”
“I want to feel your lips, your hands...hah... your warmth...on me...” his pumps grow erratic, control slipping from him.
“Why?”
‘because I fell in love with you,’ G'raha dearly wants to say but the words die in his mouth. Too much. He can't admit it. Not even in his fantasies.
“Meteor... I like you… please.”
“Go on, Raha.”
With a muffled cry into his pillow he finally reaches his orgasm, so strong it’s unlike anything he ever felt before. In his aftershock his dick pulses in rhythm with his heartbeat, sending small tremors of pleasure through his already sensitive body and making him whimper. He curls inward, dizzy and heaving for air for a solid minute. Slowly opening his eyes, he stares at the darkness, his mind trying to piece itself together.
He looked around himself. He was alone in the tent.
“It was just my imagination...” G'raha whispers into the darkness. But Gods, had it felt dreadfully real for a self-indulging fantasy...
His eyes trail down to his erection (of course he was still hard, ugh...). He has completely sullied himself. His hand is covered in thick strands of sperm and he can faintly make out the fluid glistening on his heaving stomach in the dark. ‘Even the blanket…’ he dully notices but uses it anyway to wipe his hand and stomach before kicking it off. He could clean it the next day.
Besides, he gladly welcomes the cold air now. His body feels more than scorching hot, as if he is sick with fever, another uncomfortable side-effect of a heat. With a groan he pulls his tunic over his head, almost tearing the fabric in his hurry and throws it without a second glance to the side, then proceeds to also pull his pants, together with his underclothes, completely off, leaving him fully nude. It’s better but not enough at the same time. Were he in an inn now he could simply open the window and lie on the cold floor to cool down… He crawls to the opening of his tent, reaching over it with shaky fingers before slumping back, brushing strands of hair from his sweaty forehead with a heavy sigh. ‘Still shut, good. And it’ll have to stay like that for the time being…’
Another sigh escapes him, his eyes wandering around the few details he could make out in the dark… His clothes, the stained blanket, his bag...
“…maybe a potion will help a little bit?” his hushed voice comes out in a croak as he speaks and she wallows at the sudden itch in his throat.
Yeah, a potion sounded more than nice right now.
With every brush of his sensitive cock, no matter how faint, against his thighs as he crawls back to where he had lain and where his bag is, a shudder courses through him that draws a gasp from him. He resists the urge to rub his thighs together and reaches inside the bag.
Memories of him and Meteor, standing together on top of the Crystal Tower after their victory over the Cloud of Darkness fills him as he pulls one vial out of his travelling bag and sets it against his lips.
The sun going down in front of them, the soft shades of red illuminating Meteor as he looked at him with worry in his eyes, the way his hand had felt on his own one as he tended to his injury…
The way Meteor’s hand had felt on his…
G’raha downs the light blue liquid in one go before burying his face in his pillow, his tail lashing around wildly. He could feel the immediate healing effect of the potion, a cooling sensation that soothed his irritated throat, but…
A needy moan escapes him as his thighs rubbed together on their own, stimulating his erection, which was already dripping with pre-cum. The fever-like heat is still there.
G’raha’s hand, which had fisted itself in his pillow with a deathly grip, releases and reaches over to the bag again, reaching for another potion (maybe one, or two, or three more would help…) when he stops, a rough texture against the tip of his fingers.
It was a glove. A surprise gift Meteor made just for him to prevent future injuries.
He pulls it out and slips it on, fastening the strap with his other hand before skimming over the material with light touches, admiring the details.
It was a perfect fit, nowhere too loose or too tight for his comfort, a sign of true craftsmanship. He still wondered how Meteor got his measurements down to the last inch without ever, well, measuring it.
The man had laughed it off, only saying it hadn’t been too hard, leaving G’raha with a dumbfounded expression as he wore it for the first time. What do you mean with that!?
It may have been a simple, small deed done like any other for Meteor but for G’raha it held great meaning. A gift he’ll treasure with him in the tower.
He laces his hands together, allowing himself for this moment to imagine they were his and Meteor’s.
The sight rekindles something in him; an idea and fantasy that adds flutters to the pooling heat in his lower parts.
Biting his lip, he lets his hand – the gloved one – travel down, coarse fingers dancing over sensitive skin, from chest, to stomach and navel, over the bits of red pubic hair before stopping, his dick barely out of reach, throbbing with strong desire to be touched.
Teasing himself further, his hand instead goes to the inside of his thighs, jumping at the contact before parting open for him to caress, squeeze and rub all over.
It was so much easier this time. That voice of guilt was still present in his head but now it was small, tucked away in a corner, simple to ignore and allowing G’raha to indulge in his animalistic urges without shame; even when it hissed that he’ll regret it by next morning.
With a breathy moan he finally wraps his hand around himself, his thumb rubbing over the slit in circular motions to draw forth more pre-cum and coat the tip of himself with it. He wasn’t going to last long.
But… what if, just maybe, the man did return his feelings? It was a laughably slim possibility but the thought made his heart pound nevertheless and his hand began jerking him off with fast strokes.
Maybe he’d caress him with soft kisses to his neck, cheek, forehead, mouth and bring him to release with his hand around his erection, not stopping with his jerking and pumping until he was reduced to nothing but a mess, oversensitive and at the point of hurting, whilst showering him with sweet praises only meant for his ears (“Good boy. My adorable Raha.”).
“Good gods…” he swallows, his breathing growing uneven and shallow with the strokes of his hand turning even faster to the point it loses its proper rhythm and gets jittery.
It doesn’t take him long before his second orgasm crashes over him with full force.
„Ah—Nghh— C-coming..!“ Graha’s tail fluffs up and the muscles in his body go taut as he climaxes, strands of white covering his hand anew, before everything in him goes slack. “Mhmm, hah…so good…” Still hard within his closed hand, he pumps himself slowly, relishing in the lewd sounds in his ears and the sensation of the leathered glove together with his cum that acted as lubrication on his aching cock, all the while drooling and panting needily, chasing after that feeling, guilt entirely forgotten and no longer cared about.
Gods, how much he wanted that man… To hells with that guilt!
Not deeming it enough, he stops touching himself to turn and change into a kneeling position. Next he grabs his pillow, positioning it so it was propped between his legs perfectly.
He gives one experimental thrust and a gasp escapes him. “Just like that, ya— yes!” He begins fucking the soft fabric of the pillow in slow, deep thrusts.
He wants nothing more than to breed and be bred.
How nice, how wonderful it’d be if he could do that – and more - with Meteor… With a wildly thrashing tail he lost himself as many times before on this night to his vivid imagination.
His naked body, adorned with scars as proof of hard-fought wins over men and beasts… A cock, slightly bigger in girth than his and adorned with dark brown hair, inside him, as they lay with their arms entwined and bodies pressed together.
G’raha hisses a long-drawn “Yes!” with furrowed brows, leaning forward to allow him to rub his erection against the pillow from a different angle, sparks erupting with every roll of his hips.
Or…they could have their positions switched, with G’raha being the one to fill up the Hyur, while watching the ecstasy on his face and giving love to each of his scars…
Letting go has never felt more heavenly than in this moment. He knows this was wrong, messed up, but he is too far into it to care. It just felt too good to care.
With every thrust G’raha fels himself edging closer to yet another orgasm. Ah, if only this could last longer… He didn’t want to come yet… “‘Tis no good…ah, I can’t stop moving…” Huffing to himself, his thrusts pick up in speed. He tries redirecting his thoughts, reciting passages of ancient tomes about the Allagan Empire he’d read over and over until memorized, to preserve him from slipping over the edge too soon. Yet even though it wasn’t warm, sweaty and coarse skin he was digging his nails in he couldn’t shake off the lecherous images he saw behind his closed eyes.
He ends up coming few minutes later, a tired, albeit satisfied sigh leaving his lips upon feeling fatigue finally settle in his bones. The hazy fog in his head is vanishing and his body isn’t burning anymore.
Slumping over the pillow and curling around himself, he lets himself slowly drift more and more towards the comforting embrace of sleep, his breathing slowing with each passing minute.
But then his right hand twitches and his red eyes cracked open. Ah, he was still wearing it…
He should clean himself up. Put on his clothes so he doesn’t catch a cold. Think about what he just did.
Instead, he clenches his eyes shut. Ignorance is bliss, but for how long could he maintain that?
‘Just a few more days…’ G’raha thought, clenching his hand.
He holds onto that thought like a prayer and soon he fell asleep at last, dreaming of endless crystalline stairs glistening in the sunlight and a mop of brown hair before him.