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“Are you ready?”
It is a warm and sunny day in beautiful Mor Dhona, when G’raha Tia realizes that he may or may not have some very extreme self-preservation issues he needs to work through and rectify, nigh almost immediately .
Though one would be forgiven to think that perhaps such a realization should have sooner come to him at a time long before this, perhaps when he was still on the First, and he still went by the name of the Crystal Exarch. When he was on the verge of death, not once, but twice —having nearly sacrificed his life in the name of duty, both for his love and for the world at large.
Perhaps he should’ve registered it more at a time even when he’d been naught but simply G’raha himself, a brash and foolish young man aligned under the Students of Baldesion, who’d come to the land of Eorzea on what was simply meant to be a simple research mission; only to eventually seal himself away in a tower, in the hopes of eventually chasing the future—the destiny—that he was so surely promised.
Granted, he wasn’t necessarily wrong to take that road, in that particular regard.
But it did give someone due cause to wonder why it was so seemingly easy for him to throw his life away, just like that.
Though perhaps he was getting away with himself. For while it was true that these were all so much more severe examples, it was also true his current predicament was nowhere near as world ending. However, considering his current opponent… that could also just be a statement that was quite simply utterly untrue.
Either way, after having tested fate one too many times, you’d think he would know better by now.
Far better at least, than challenging the Warrior of Light herself to battle.
Where he faces her now, in a no-holds-barred, no limits, no rules duel; to a contest of wills unrestricted and unrestrained—thinking it would make for ‘good training’, of all things—!
Twelves above, he should have known better, not to test her.
He should have known well before this, but of course it would only sink in in the middle of battle. When the thrill and the rush of pure adrenaline comes upon him, and he realizes the Warrior of Light hunts him for sport.
He has to remind himself, even as the thrum of levin simmers down the length of his spine, that he had outright asked for this.
Of course, inexplicably, that only adds to his enthusiasm for it all the same.
He really needed to get that sorted out, stat.
As he dashes over to the side and very narrowly avoids the full volley of fire that comes hurtling fast towards him; ducking down between crystals, swiveling back and forth on his feet as he feels the swell of heat that’d been left in its place, that singes at the edges of his braid despite his quick footwork—prompting the sound of laughter that almost immediately barks out of him, loud and throaty and full.
In truth, despite the danger, he’ll sooner admit —that he’s never felt more alive in his life.
“Ah, so you are quick on your feet at least. Though I thought you’d wanted a fight , G’raha Tia. You didn’t ask for a simple test of endurance, last I checked.” Lei Lei calls down to him, her slate blue eyes alight in a flicker of mirth, even as she waves her staff and another wave of fire rains down in a scorching blaze. One he very narrowly avoids once again, jumping back just before it coalesces into a simmering inferno.
“No, I didn’t.” He concedes through a rasping gasp. “Though truth be told my love, I don’t think it’d be half as much fun if I did.” He calls back, the words uttered between a rush of amusement and sheer adrenaline, as a flurry of heat-seeking missiles come around his back, no doubt intending to burn his arse to a crisp if he so much as stopped running; which would be nice, he’d admit, if only so he could get a spell in to properly counter her.
Of course, in order to do that, he needed to be able to breathe .
And Lei Lei, of course, was not wont to take it easy on him.
So he would need to step up, as promised. And make this a challenge for her, as intended.
So G’raha gathers a blast of aether in his hands, a summoning of blue sparks that flutter within his grasp for all of a single moment, just before he sends it towards her with a shout—a compressed flurry of ice to counter her endless barrage of fire, spiraling in on her from all sides with the intent to explode into a dozen more upon contact. It is meant as nothing more than a distraction, of course. Nothing more than a bid to buy himself some time, if only to get on more even footing with her, but with the thrill of adrenaline running like fire through his veins, it distracts him enough so he isn’t able to see if it even hits his target or not.
He hears it collide with something , at least. Something that causes an upswell of magic to arise, as it implodes from somewhere behind the rock he’s situated by, just before a mass of fog manifests in the middle of it. And though the lingering silence that follows in its wake feels profound, he’s not quite prideful enough to think he’d taken her out in one blow.
He will admit though, that the sound of laughter that echoes from that same spot is enough to make his skin prickle in response.
And perhaps in ways not entirely due to fear .
Concerning.
“Interesting—a fair attempt, I’ll admit. Though barely an attempt at all, if I should know you by your strengths. You must stop taking it easy on me, Raha.” Lei Lei teases from somewhere close by, as the words issue forth as something of an invitation, but one that only serves to make his blood run heated in response. “ I’m certainly not .”
Oh, gods.
“And I would almost, most certainly assure you of the same.” He responds to her breathlessly, even as her voice alone is enough to make gooseflesh arise on the back of his neck, as he turns his head to look for her, but all he sees is the mist. “However, I think I may have overestimated my strengths—and perhaps my very real capacity to fend you off.”
And he hears her laugh again at that, but this time, it lingers somewhere much, much closer. And he can’t see a damn thing, but he could swear he felt her walking around him, slinking through the fog, and that combined with the tingle of anticipation that echoed down his spine was enough to make his heart race.
Though the amusement and delight sprinkled in her words are enough to set his very heart and soul aflame, though it is enough to make his anticipation rise just that much further… still, he clutches his staff tighter. Still, he readies himself to try and be one more step ahead.
He lives for this moment, after all. For the way she speaks to him, for the way his heart beats faster, harder, and sharper, in response to her mere presence .
He waits just long enough to sense her moving through the fog. Just long enough to hear the sound of a delicate whisper as it comes uttered against the back of his ear. As he shudders and waits, breathless in anticipation of her response… “Come now, my love, we’ve but barely started. Don’t tell me you’re already giving up.”
He wouldn’t dare.
“Please!” He announces, “I was just warming up!” He slams his staff into the ground and it explodes into a whirlwind of aether on contact, sending the fog away in a gust of air, a mix of white and black magic that surrounds his frame and sends everything around him falling back. He sees a flash of movement in the corner of his eyes, and when he turns, he finds her there, standing but a few fulms away, withstanding the full force of his spell with naught but a shield at play. Electricity hums in the strands of her dark blue locks as she grins, her expression entirely amused and radiant, and in the flicker of lightning and magic and heat, all that G’raha can think of at that moment is that her smile has at once too much teeth.
He needs to put some more distance between them, now .
He only has enough sense left in him to surge himself to another spot at the edge of the cliff and dash down the slope, just before a flash of levin strikes the spot where he’d been standing, with a burst just implosive enough to send even the Giga’s themselves running fast for the hills.
The sizzle of fire that comes zipping after him tells him he wasn’t as smooth with his escape after all.
He ducks down, and even as the flare smashes the crystal by his head into naught but a collection of shrapnel, he can’t help but find it exciting, exhilarating all the same.
He sends another flurry of his own back with a cry, and it is the pair's ensuing laughter that echoes across the fields of crystal that day, that tells the rest of the Toll that no, it is not the force of the Twelve themselves nor the Garlean’s coming down upon them with the force of canons and steel. Just a couple of adventurers, with simply too much energy and wild magic to spare.
The engagement lasts for as long as one might expect between two incredibly skilled mages, but eventually though, it all comes to a head. When his spells do nothing to fend her off but he can feel himself wearing down by the hour, growing frustrated at the fact that it was taking him so long to gain any semblance of an upper hand. He’d sworn he’d try to make this more of a challenge for her and had waited until he was properly recovered enough to do so; resting, recovering, and training as much as he was able. But clearly, it was not enough. He’d been too complacent instead.
And so was it in fact a terrible idea, having thought he’d stood any semblance of a chance against her?
Perhaps. But in truth, with her, it never is.
At least, he cannot yet bring himself to regret it.
He will, however, have much reason to rue over this if he cannot so much give her even half the challenge she no doubt expected him to provide. That faint flicker of satisfaction that she longed for, that which his own heart sung for with every fiber of its being, for he would not sooner forgive himself if he were to fail —
He’d swear he would be the last person to disappoint her in this.
He just needed one good hit, and to stop being so bloody distracted— !
BOOM
Just as he thinks it, he very narrowly avoids the crackle of lightning that spawned in front of his face. Only just fast enough to dash sideways before it blows up the rock before him, but it is so close that he can nearly taste the thrum of ozone that glimmers on the wind. Too close, that he’d sworn he’d seen every minuscule crackle of violet implode before his eyes, before he’d managed to evade it.
But even that close call is a bit too close for comfort now.
“Are you done running yet?”
He looks back, and there she is, just barely rising above the edge of the cliff. There is a quirk of a smile on her lips, her hands are on her hips, and Twelve’s above, but even from this distance she takes his breath away. But he has no time to admire her. For if he can keep his head in place, he might just be able to pull this off without getting his arse burned for real.
Because she was right. He needed to stop running now, he needed to fight back.
It was time to step up and give her everything he’s got.
So he throws his all into it—turns on his heels and sends back a heavy force of his own. A burst of aether that spawns in the sky and storms the very cliff face she stands on, coming down with the force of a dozen meteors and hail storms both. And even as she raises her own shield to fend it off, he keeps up the barrage, striking from every corner that he can, throwing every last onze of magic he has against her.
And he does not hold back.
It eventually lasts for so long that he’s worried that it's almost too much, for him and for her both. But he doesn’t falter, not even until the last moment, when his magic begins to finally taper off in part exhaustion, in part concern—caught in a flash of worry since she has yet to seemingly retaliate… yet that momentary hesitation is all she needs to strike back.
For out of the smoke blast he catches a glimpse of a spark, the only warning he gets before a fork of lightning comes surging out; this time sharp and heavy with intent, and now it is he who must fend it off.
He very barely gets a chance to adjust, throwing up a barrier as quickly as he can, but he still feels the lightning shudder through his shield like a shockwave, a ricochet that sends a burst of energy rattling as deep as his bones, and it is nearly enough to throw him off his feet.
He withstands the full force of it, but only just. enough .
When the smoke has cleared, there is naught but dust and aether left flickering between the pair. As he struggles to catch his breath, and he finds her still standing there atop a crystal, a smirk of satisfaction on her face, though there is a clear spark of intensity in her eyes; watching him from beneath lashes just dark enough to make him shudder, enough to make a more instinctual part of him ache .
His lungs threaten to seize at the sight, and his heart shudders, but then laughter once more spills past his lips, entirely lit with an amusement as bright and radiant as her own, and it does not stop.
After everything, he is still in awe.
He tries to ignore the thrum of adrenaline that sings in his veins, that makes something mad inside him sing, and yet he still grins, through the sweat and the heat, through the headiness and exhaustion, so filled with elation at hearing how she chuckles along in turn.
The world is full of sunshine and crisp, clean, cool air, and he is facing down the strongest woman in the entire realm.
How could he not be so enthused?
“I see you’re having fun.” She muses, “Though I do think you’d offered me a challenge with this request, my love. Surely you can surprise me still, can’t you?”
Surprise her? Ah, but of course.
He bites his lower lip, rethinking his current options, and against the thrum of delirium and elation that skitters like molten lava through his blood… he eventually puffs up his chest and nods.
“If that is what you insist on, then how can I disappoint? I do recall having one more trick up my sleeve.”
As he grins at her and lays his staff against the rock beside him, he has the pleasure of watching the way her brows quirk, a curl of bemusement on her lips, and well, if a surprise was what she’d wanted—then of course:
A surprise is what she’d get.
For with her new placement atop the crystal, with no place now to jump or hide—
Well, it was the best time now to try .
And it’s experimental, as is everything with him these days, but he’d been practicing if only to get a feel for it again. Relearning how to temper his aether without the tower's wealth of reserves was one thing, but relearning how his new, old body moved was another.
Despite his new roles more designed to specifically support her, there was always a part of him that’d fall back to the one skill he’d always known. And so he conjures an aether bow in hand, molding it as quickly as he does his aetherial sword and shield, and in the next moment, with his other hand perched with a bolt that appears like a rod of pure light—
he aims.
With the versatility, swiftness, and strength that was innate to his younger frame—yet with a trick learned from the Exarch, he makes good use of his strengths and makes his arrows explode .
Lei Lei only has just enough time to realize the core of his intent, mere moments before her eyes widen and she hops away, and the space where she was standing immediately implodes.
The blast radius is large, and the storm of arrows that follow sends her leaping across the smattering of crystals, dashing across the fallen debris without cease—the metal hull she leaps off of rattling with the force of his every shot.
She’s caught out in the open with no place to hide and there is no end to the volley of arrows that swing from his grasp as he shoots with the dexterity of a practiced hunter. Every blast prompts an explosion, and even amidst the rising smoke, he doesn’t lose sight of her.
Sometimes his shots get too close to her for his comfort, but he has enough faith in her to know she’d at least be able to shield herself from it. Every shot is one made too quick, at a speed that was too swift for her to counter. It’s only enough that she shields them off, though she’s fast on her feet and her long ears are enough to catch nearly every warning, so throwing her off guard is near impossible.
But that’s fine because all he needed to do was wear her down.
And in a battle of spells and magic, there was no question on who would come out on top. Lei Lei was a grand master of magic, and he could never hope to beat her in raw power. But she’d said no rules.
He should have known she wouldn’t stick to them either.
And he thinks he has her on the run, he thinks he’s caught her off guard enough that he can lay the finishing blows—but then her long ears perk in a way that has him immediately on edge, and then her eyes turn to him, bright and with due intent—she changes course, dashes forward and charges directly towards him.
It’s sudden enough that it catches him unawares, and so he fumbles his next shot. So distracted not by the sparks that glow alight in her hands but by the ones that glimmer in her eyes. Bright and slate blue and bristling with magic, she surges towards him with a flash of aether, a glimmer of aetherial green that surrounds her, and even as he lets his final shot fly, he doesn’t have enough time to move .
He’d forgotten who his opponent was.
She knocks him down, catching him across his waist as he goes with a yelp; a loud huff of air, and they fall together .
Crashing through the thicket behind him, it cushions them as they topple down into a clump of leaves and verdant greenery, and though the ground itself feels hard on his frame, he doesn’t have much cause to worry about it, for he can barely hear his own grunts over the sound of his heart beating like mad. There’s a quick tussle for the advantage as she tries to pin him down, but his head is swimming so extensively from the rush that she just might forgive him when he doesn’t give it his all.
Eventually, she manages to keep him still, her hands pressed hard into his shoulders—his bow in hand having long dissipated into thin air, and she leans in with a grin, and with a teasing lilt in her voice that makes his lovestruck heart keen—she whispers, soft and low and entirely too alluring:
“Behave.”
Oh.
And oh gods, but something within him surges awake at that. His eyes widen, his breath catches, and a feeling lurid and obscene snaps alight from the depths, dark and simmering in a flare of heat that he cannot bring himself to deny. He finds himself riveted as every aspect of her feels magnified at that very moment, from the intensity of her exquisite beauty to the pure temptation of her touch. The whisper of need teases at his senses and draws his attention to the strength of her frame as she holds him down, his mind fixated on the supple curves that press against him; that which makes a more fervent part of him ache as he looks at her with something like desire glimmering in his eyes.
And this close, he cannot but drown in the overwhelming swell of it. As he makes a sound that echoes as something desperate and pleading and she leans down to brush her lips against his, the touch itself sweet and delicate, lingering in ways that feel temptatious as sin, and despite the very brief, very fragile nature of it—he melts.
It is the softest, lightest kiss, but it draws him spellbound in its entirety.
“Lei Lei…”
Her spoken name breathed against her lips, the words laced with something ardent and desperate and wanting, and though she does not draw any ilm closer, he could feel the way a smile stretched across her lips still; the way his heart beat rapidly out of turn making something inside him roil with a fury, a growing frenzy that was sinking into his frame, that was liable to draw him mad with want.
Her response, when it finally comes, is damning.
“Do you concede?”
No, no—oh, but how could he not?
And he barely hears her over the rush of desire that runs unbridled in his mind, as his eyes dilate, his ears cant forward, drawn to her with every aspect of his heart and soul attuned to her being . When she looks at him with that wicked glint glimmering in her eyes and all he knows is overwhelmed by every aspect of her presence—for there is electricity in the air and in every whisper of her every breath, and seeing the way she simply looks at him is enough to make something relentless in him surge forth.
She tempts him with her very existence.
And G’raha is a willing captive in every way.
And though he still finds himself at war with that same want, holding fast to the knowledge that they were still in competition and that he could not yet give in—oh, but he cannot help the whimper that spills out of him when she draws her hand down his chest. When it grazes down further to drift against the front of his breeches and brushes so gently against the swell of his aching cock— oh . Oh .
She knows.
She knows, and he cannot bring himself to be even remotely embarrassed by it, only able to purse his lips and shake his head, his voice coming out raspy and reedy in its absolute breathlessness—
“No.” he makes to bite out, “I won’t—” but he only has enough in him to speak the words on the edge of a whine .
Oh, but this was terrible .
But he won’t back down, he won’t. Not even when Lei Lei erupts into a titter of laughter, nuzzling herself into the space between his jaw and clavicle, drawing her supple lips against the tattoos etched across his flesh right there.
“You are a curious man, G’raha Tia.” She murmurs with every semblance of endearment in her voice; a fondness that makes every part of him downright preen even as she moves down to press a kiss against his racing pulse. His scarf appeared to have come off during their tussle, and so it’d left the entirety of his neck vulnerable to her wandering lips. And wander they do, as they brush and they graze so gently across his skin, as she makes her mark in the smattering of kisses she leaves there.
As she blows a whisper of air against his flesh, and a full-bodied shiver overtakes him, a strangled sound that spills from him and feels like it resounds from somewhere deep within. And he knows better than to give in—knows better than to break; yet still, something within him runs weak at the sound of amusement that escapes her.
Gods, but he wants to kiss her; so, so badly. He wants to wrap himself around her, until he doesn’t know where he ends and she begins.
Oh, but she would use that knowledge against him, wouldn’t she?
How she uses it against him even now.
As she draws her tongue against him again, and he feels every ilm of himself respond in kind; a shudder that courses through him, that makes his entire being pulse with a thrum of heat as even his tail lashes out—
Oh, but he was weak.
“Curious,” she continues with another kiss, “but so, so endearing. Surely you’d want to yield sooner though, if only so we might take this elsewhere? Somewhere perhaps a bit more…” she trails off, with another glide of her fingers against him, her touch temptatious and ruinous in every single way— “ comfortable, yes ?”
Gods, if she only knew. The way his body ached and begged for her, it was taking all he had in him not to give in.
Yet though she may be the Warrior of Light, he is not so easily cowed.
At least, he would not go down without a fight.
So he steels himself with a steady breath, draws strength into his limbs, and bucks his hips up against her, and with a twist of his frame, he swiftly reverses them both, clamors atop her, and takes charge.
Surging forth through the rush of desire that courses through him as she falls back, startled and yet entirely entertained. He holds himself over her and pins her down with his frame, his body still thrumming with every onze of adrenaline and heat, the sensation amplified and coursing through his blood unlike anything else—
Until when he too leans into her, and his voice is laced with the notes of challenge, with pure impertinence and desire etched across the vestiges of every single word.
“Not until you yield first.”
And so he pleads of her a mercy with this demand—to quell a desire that sweeps and swells within the boundary of his very soul. It swells within him in waves, as he restrains himself in the hope that she will simply give him what she needs—and yet considering how her lips simply curl in response, lacquered lips stretching into a smile, her expression teasing and oh so amused— “Oh? And would you demand that of me?”
She leans in. “ Or shall you make me? ”
And G’raha thinks it's permission enough for him to take it for himself.
So he does. In a fervent kiss as he snaps his head down to slot his lips against hers, the full of it deep and desperate, wanton and pleading all at once, already craving for all that he can take. The heat of it catches as her mouth parts beneath his own, the intensity of it sparking like wildfire between their lips.
As in that moment, he charges forth and takes control.
It is everything he wants and more.
The heat of it sizzles through his veins in a flood that feels as exhilarating as when their spells had been fierce and flying. The flinging heat of condensed power crashing and imploding had been replaced with hunger and fervor, a ravenous desire that would leave one wanting and starved. That passion and frenzy would echo here and now, in the lust and delirium that spawns in the midst of this feverish kiss.
In the tremors of love that shudder in the depths of his own heart.
And oh, how it consumes him. Overtaking his mind until he is left insatiably starved. He chases the taste of her with a fascination that lingers profound, every ilm of him made unbound by the pleasure of how she responds and reciprocates in kind.
Her legs arch upwards to hitch around his hips and grind hard against him, and he cannot help the growl that bubbles forth from him as he ruts into her, desperate for every glorious sound that spills from her lips. The way she plays havoc on his senses with every lush sound that escapes her, that makes him greedy and insatiable for more, more , more!
It melts like pure warmth and ecstasy in the heat of the summer sun, the way the rush of it swells like a building inferno, entwining them together in ways that go beyond that of mere lust. Delirium plays a large part in it too, he is sure, as he feels like a warm cat soaking in the rays of sunshine, like a pure fathomless bliss was found in the sweet decadent taste of her on his tongue.
He cannot get enough.
G’raha indulges in a medley of his senses at that very moment, as he tastes bitter tea along with the sweet bread she’d had from this morning. He tastes the dark succulence of a most indescribable flavor, the exquisite richness that he knows to be uniquely hers. He feels the tingles of lightning arching through his blood as she draws herself against him, the heat of lust fluttering like liquid fire against his skin. He smells the scent of ozone, the feel and warmth of plush, supple curves pressed against him. He feels as though he has the whole world in his grasp, his every dream and desire made existent and real, and it is the easiest thing to melt into the pleasure of experiencing this feeling along with her. To kiss and ravage her and have the weight of his fill.
He is so, so in love with her, he hopes she understands.
He hopes she knows.
And oh, how he’d wanted to challenge her like this, to feel that feverishness of control run unbound through his veins. Oh, how he’d wanted to kiss her all this while, to lose himself mind and body to her, because in the end, she would ever and always be his goal.
He tries his best to take charge of the kiss, claiming dominance as his tongue maps out the heat and taste of her with his mouth, but gods, she does not let up. She gives back as good as he can, her nails clawing at his skin, drawing him closer together, his tail winding around her leg, begging and pleading for every ilm of touch, and it is so overwhelming—at once it is everything, and at once almost entirely not enough.
He wants more. He needs more.
He needs her.
And yet he continues his onslaught, bidding her to give in as he continues without cease. As he rakes his hand down her spine and grinds himself down between her thighs. As he kisses her and aims to overwhelm her, and it is competitive, electric, hot, and effusive, and though he is nothing if not weak for the woman in his arms, he is also entirely unwilling to lose, especially where it matters most.
But there is a thrum of satisfaction that courses through him when in the end she gasps, and she leans back to take a breath, and in that small momentary break of weakness, she surrenders, if just for a moment—and so he takes the rest of her without quarter, drawing his lips against her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, her neck, and as she laughs, he relishes the triumph.
It is a long, long time before he finally pulls away.
And when he does—again, he finds her beauty inescapable. His eyes taken by the flush that had risen to her brown skin, by her blue eyes that shined bright and luminous, boundless and infinite; every ilm that would serve to take his breath away even as her lips, kiss stung and beautiful, linger with a smile soft and fond and sweet.
It is a private smile she reserves only for him, and it gives him every measure of satisfaction.
As he leans back to catch his breath, his ears flickering, twining their fingers together even as he struggles to catch his breath and speak:
“Now do you yield?” He asks, his tone dark and low, yearning and needy. His voice doesn’t feel at all like his own anymore, but damn him if that is the thrill she would invoke upon him—for he wants her more than she will ever know.
As she looks at him for a good long time, her eyes bright and intrigued, and eventually laughs and shakes her head, biting her lower lip as hums, seemingly not entirely done with him just yet. “Not quite.” She smiles, “Though I suppose I am willing to concede to a draw, provided we continue this elsewhere?”
And he knows what she means, most especially when her fingers draw against the back of his neck, twining against the length of his braid, and in answer, his eyes glimmer, with a molten heat and a pang of hunger. With a desperation that he cannot cease nor hide—
She asks to go to a place where he knows he won’t have a chance against her, but even so… he can’t help but give in.
For he melts, at once wrapped around her finger. For no matter his strength, or his attempts to beat her, this would ever be the one and only thing he could never, ever deny himself.
The pleasure and love of
her
.