Aspen Fahey is a non-binary aspiring community witch and failed witchfluencer living in downtown Toronto. When their aunt dies and leaves them her house and witching practice on beautiful, idyllic Vancouver Island, their life unexpectedly turns into a Lifetime movie: early thirties enby leaves the big city (including their toxic partner and the job they hate) to move to a beautiful small town, has meet cute with beautiful stranger before running into The One That Got Away.

- - - -

Part 1: Inheritance
Chapter 1

Good morning, Pamela.

Aspen stared blankly at their computer as they considered and discarded several possible responses to the new support ticket. Feeling decidedly undercaffeinated for this level of stupidity, they took a large swig of their coffee, grimacing when they discovered it contained cold remnants of coffee from yesterday. “Ugh. Gross,” they grumbled, questioning every life decision that had led them to accept a magical support job at HexaTech – the largest magical services provider in Canada.

Back when they’d done their witch apprenticeship, they’d had big dreams of doing community work and using their magical talents to make a difference, not knowing that the public sector in Ontario was both massively underfunded and next-to-impossible to enter. Gig work had sucked because they often spent more time networking and looking for clients than they did working. They’d tried to make a name as a witchfluencer™ (and had even had some modest success) but even though it felt like success was always just around the corner, witching as a stable career remained perpetually out of reach.

Unfortunately, since running away to a start a new life as a swamp witch wasn’t an option, they were going to have to find a way to respond to this latest ticket while keeping the implied ‘you fucking idiot’ from being too obvious in their response.

Good morning Pamela.
Despite the name, cursed memes are not actual curses. Someone sending you a cursed meme does not mean that you have been cursed.
Hope that helps.

~Aspen Fahey

They hit send before they could add anything they’d regret later and headed to the kitchen. Tariq was there, dutifully emptying the coffee pot of its last few dregs. Unsurprisingly, the previous person had left just enough to spare themselves the responsibility of putting on a new pot.

“Morning, Tariq,” they said, sighing grumpily as they opened the coffee maker.

Tariq looked up from rinsing the pot. “Not a good morning, I take it?”

“S. H. I. T,” Aspen said with a bright corporate smile. “So happy it’s Thursday!”

“That bad?”

“Pamela.”

Tariq chuckled. “You’ll have to tell me about it over lunch.” He paused and looked a bit guilty. “Look, I have to make a quick phone call, do you mind…?”

“Babysitting the coffee? No prob. Go do the thing, friendo.”

“Amazing, thanks, pal.” Tariq ducked out of the kitchen and into the nearby stairwell that provided the closest thing to privacy on this floor.

As leaving the coffee unattended would be a mistake (in the cutthroat world of corporate magical services, coffee was an ‘every witch for themselves’ kind of situation), Aspen leaned against the counter and pulled out their phone and saw that their sister, Becks, had sent a photo of herself and her wife with their two dogs out for their morning walk.

Becks
Try to get SOME sunlight today, siblet.

Smiling affectionately, Aspen opened their camera, turned it to forward facing, and considered their look – which was appropriately ‘business magical’. Medium-long lavender hair hung over storm-grey eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner – tastefully winged – and set off by dark purple lipstick. Their (appropriately conservative) dress (it has pockets!) was navy blue with silver stars, worn over black tights and galaxy-print boots (flats. At 6’2”, Aspen always felt self-conscious in heels).

They fussed a few stray hairs into place before raising their mug - “I survived another meeting that should have been an email” - in an ironic salute and sending a return selfie.

Aspen
You know that sunlight would ruin the professional pallor I strive to maintain. ;p
(Also, don’t call me siblet.)

Aspen was pleased when they immediately saw three dancing dots.

Becks
ASPEN.

Aspen
Don’t start, Becks. We can’t all be the picture of disgusting lesbian domestic bliss.

Becks
Rude. I know you don’t mean it because there’s no way you could call these faces disgusting.
(and how else am I supposed to lord my status as eldest over you? in a way that's gender neutral, no less?)

Aspen smiled at the closeup photo that followed of Harley and Ivy, their two golden retrievers, giving the camera big doggie grins.

Aspen
(Ugh. Fine.)
I mean, it is a little disgusting that you’re so successful and financially stable. We’re
millennials, aren’t we supposed to be unhappy and poor forever?

Becks
You wouldn’t have to live in a shoe box if you’d come out to Alberta.

Aspen
LISTEN.
William’s new job is going so well we might splurge and get an entire closet.
But we don’t want to go too crazy.
Also I refuse to live anywhere it can snow in June.

Becks
You’re a terrible Canadian.

Aspen
So I hear.
Sorry.

Behind them, the coffee maker gurgled as it finished its cycle. Aspen poured coffee for themself and Tariq and did their best not to glare at the two coworkers who ‘just happened’ to come into the kitchen as soon as the coffee was finished. Vultures.

Aspen
Caffeine has been acquired, so it’s back to being a good little worker bee for me.
Give Rachel my love.

Becks
<3 <3

Aspen ran into Tariq exiting the stairwell as they trudged back to their desk. “My savior!” he exclaimed, gingerly accepting the hot mug.

✯ ✯ ✯

The rest of the day dragged with the usual mix of boredom and stupidity. After closing out a few more support requests, Aspen found themself enlisting Tariq and a few others to chase imps around the executive boardroom when a ward meant to repel demonic influence ended up summoning it instead. When that was finished, it took Aspen and Tariq nearly another hour of poring over the baseboards with hand-held UV lights to discover where two of the ward’s spell sigils had been scuffed – probably by the cleaners. And after that, Aspen spent half an hour trying to explain basic spreadsheet functions to Angelo, their incompetent manbaby of a boss, before they finally gave up and formatted the spreadsheet for him.

Finally, at 4:50, Aspen packed their laptop up early and slunk out of the office and into the wet, grey slush that was downtown Toronto in late February. The streets were jammed with people and cars all trying to escape downtown, and Aspen ended up getting a soaker when they stepped into a puddle trying to avoid a kamikaze electric scooter. Then it was only seven stops on an overcrowded subway, a transfer through heaving crowds, and six more stops on another equally overcrowded train. Three blocks on foot to reach their disappointing postage stamp of an apartment, finally stumbling through their door at six, only to find the apartment dark and empty.

Dammit.

Sure enough, there was a message from William, sent eleven minutes ago.

Working overtime. Eat without me.

Aspen resisted the urge to call Becks to complain, as that would inevitably lead to one of Becks’ lectures about William.

Even if he'd complained about Aspen's inconsistent contributions to their shared finances during the years their witch career failed to launch, they wouldn't have been able to chase their dream at all without his support. Which meant that Aspen felt obligated to defend William when Becks started tearing into him, even though they both knew that things with William weren’t great and hadn’t been great for a long time.
Aspen and William had met at a protest ten years ago, when Aspen had been finishing their second year of classwork for their apprenticeship and William had been in the first year of his undergraduate degree. Aspen had been captivated by William’s passion for magical law and his eloquence about the need for laws reflecting the magical traditions of Canada’s sizeable immigrant population. They’d started dating shortly after and were living together a year later.

William was also a big part of why Aspen had taken the job at HexaTech in the first place. Even though he’d never said anything, they’d felt obligated to do more to pull their weight as their witching career continued to falter and bills from law school continued to accrue interest. Giving up their dream to work at HexaTech was a sacrifice Aspen still felt keenly, but it felt like William didn’t even notice Aspen’s unhappiness. He was still absorbed in the triumph of getting a permanent offer from the firm he’d articled with. Worse, in two years since he'd passed the Bar, he’d slowly been transforming into the soulless management dickheads that Aspen hated at work. Getting ahead in his career had become the most important thing in his life, with Aspen a very distant second.

Leaving them stuck in a city of three million people and somehow still profoundly alone.

Aspen was trapped. Even if they could find a place, they couldn’t make rent on their own. And as much as they hated Toronto, they weren’t keen on the transphobia that would come with moving to Alberta or some other similarly rural province where it was still possible for millennials to afford decent housing. Their only other option would be to admit defeat and move back to live with their mum in the nearby Rust Belt suburb of Oshawa.

Hard pass.

Aspen’s stomach growled, asserting that William was a problem for Not-Now Aspen, whereas Now Aspen still needed to solve the problem of food.

They stared blankly at the contents of the fridge for a least a minute before giving up and pulling out a few slices of processed cheese. “Depression meal it is,” they sighed, putting on a kettle of water for ramen.

✯ ✯ ✯

At two o’clock the next afternoon, Aspen’s phone vibrated insistently across their desk. The call was from Becks, which was concerning, as she was just as much of a phone-hating millennial stereotype as they were. With trepidation, Aspen answered the call.

“Hey, Becks,” they said quietly. “Give me a second to get somewhere I can talk.”

“No prob,” Becks said, sounding decidedly off.

“Okay,” they said once they’d slunk into the dubious safety of the stairwell. “You wouldn’t call first unless it was an emergency, so what’s going on?”

“Aspen…” Becks sounded like she’d been crying. “Aunt Marcy’s dead.”

The words hit like a hammer to the center of their chest. “I. What? How?”

“Aneurysm. This morning. No warning, no nothing. Just. Gone.” There was a long moment of shocked silence during which Becks sniffled. “Mom’s a mess, so I’m calling everyone.”

Aspen stared at the wall, trying to connect with the sadness they should be feeling about the sudden death of their favorite aunt, the witch – and only other magic practitioner in the family – who had encouraged Aspen’s interest in magic, given them their first lessons (and later career advice), and was now gone. But all they felt was numb.

“Thanks for doing that,” they finally managed.

“Mom is executor, apparently. She said she’s going to fly out tomorrow to start making arrangements and that she could pay for your ticket if you wanted to fly out with her.” Becks tactfully didn’t mention William, which saved Aspen from saying that they’d check if he could come – they already knew that William wasn’t going to take any time off for something as trivial as a dead aunt. “I’ll come out and help as soon as I can, since. You know.”

“It’s the only way to keep her from doing literally everything by herself? Yeah. I remember.” They blinked, trying to think through what felt like a brain full of mud. “Uh, tell mum not to book a red-eye. This whole thing is awful enough without getting up at three in the morning to get to Pearson, you know? Tell her I give her permission to not get the absolute cheapest flight.”

Becks laughed weakly. “Sure thing. I’ll get her to message you with details.”

There was another moment of uncomfortable silence before Aspen cleared their throat. “I should let you make those other calls,” they said softly.

“Yeah.”

“Love you, Becks.”

“Love you too, Aspen”

Aspen hung up, then stared at the wall for several minutes trying to figure out what to do next.

Why couldn’t they cry? Aunt Marcy had been the first family member Aspen had come out to, and one of the only ones (besides mum and Becks) who had quickly started using their new name and pronouns without any need for correction or explanation. Not to mention that without Aunt Marcy, they might never have worked up the nerve to deal with their gender feelings on their own.

They were in shock. Obviously.

Okay. So what next?

Go home. Early Twenties Aspen would have worked the rest of the day before going home, unwilling to let personal problems affect their work performance, but thankfully Thirties Aspen had more self-respect.

They drifted back to their desk, feeling distantly confused that their coworkers didn’t stop and stare as they passed. Surely a tragedy of this magnitude would have left some visible sign? And yet, their passage went unobserved and unremarked.

It took only a moment to pack up their laptop and grab their purse. On the way out, they stopped by Tariq’s desk, knocking quietly on top of the cubicle divider to get his attention.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m not feeling well,” Aspen answered quietly. “So I’m going home.”

“Oof. That sucks – I hope you feel better soon. Any work stuff that needs taking care of?”

“Maybe? Like. It definitely won’t happen, since month-end is Monday and he never turns these in on time, but if Angelo decides he wants to do the month-end report early can you fill it out for him? The template is in the shared Reports directory, you’ll just have to pull the numbers out of his email.” Aspen grimaced. “Sorry, I know it’s a pain in the ass…”

Tariq grinned and shook his head. “Seriously, don’t sweat it. Like you said, it won’t happen, so go home and get some rest.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. See you Monday.”

Aspen nodded guiltily, then made their escape.

The feeling of floating detachment persisted long enough for Aspen to trudge past the gleaming, sharp-edged monuments to finance that surrounded Bay Street station, board the subway, and ride the several stops to their transfer. However, they could feel the terrible grief starting to claw its way into their chest as they exited at Bloor-Yonge to change lines. They did their best to keep that awful feeling at bay as they navigated the crowds, but the tears escaped anyway – hot and painful and humiliating.

When the train arrived, Aspen slumped into one of the few available seats, feeling that if they had to be That Weirdo Crying On The Train, better sitting than looming over people and possibly crying on them. They turned toward the window, letting their hair hang forward to obscure their face as the tears kept coming, their shoulders shaking with the effort of remaining silent.

Getting off the subway and into their apartment was another series of small humiliations. Running into someone sprinting for the train, strange looks from people on the street, uncomfortable awkward silence in the elevator. By the time they were turning the key in the lock, Aspen was desperate for a few hours’ peace in an empty apartment so they could really fall apart before William came home.

It was a rude surprise to discover, instead, that William was home already, still wearing the too-expensive slacks and tailored shirt he’d worn to work that morning, his short blond hair still immaculately coiffed. Even worse, he had a podcast on – something with two insufferably pedantic men whose names Aspen’s brain deleted every time they heard them – while he cooked loudly with every light in their tiny apartment on.

“You’re home. Why are you home?” they blurted out.

William didn’t look up from cooking as he tipped a cutting board of chopped vegetables into the large stir fry pan. “Making you a nice dinner,” he said, pouring in some sauce and mixing everything together. “I know I’ve been doing a lot of overtime lately, and I wanted to make it up to you.”

“Oh.”

Somehow this made Aspen feel even worse.

William shot Aspen a smile, an expression that quickly turned to concern as he took a second longer look and apparently didn’t like what he saw. “Hey,” he said quietly, blue eyes darkening with concern as he moved the pan off the burner and turned off the stove. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”

This wasn’t what they’d wanted. They hated being a mess in front of William, which is why they’d wanted time to fall apart alone before he got home. Instead, William was guiding them to the couch, his hand warm on their back, and there was nothing in the universe that could stop them from absolutely losing their shit.

“Babe. Babe, talk to me,” he urged softly.

“Aunt Marcy died,” Aspen choked out. “She had an aneurysm in her kitchen this morning. She’s gone.”

Speaking what had happened shattered the last of their control, releasing horrible wracking sobs that were all the more violent for having been suppressed. And even though they hadn’t wanted it to happen this way, it wasn’t terrible when William wrapped them in his strong arms and held them without saying anything further. They clung to his shirt, burying their face in his shoulder, and cried until there were no more tears to cry.

Finally, Aspen pulled away and went to the bathroom to clean up, grimacing at the haggard-looking red-eyed lunatic that goggled back at them from the mirror.

“What now?” William asked, leaning on the doorway.

“Mum is executor on the estate. They were always really close and Aunt Marcy never married or had kids. I’ll be flying out to BC to help her with planning and arrangements, and Becks will be joining us as soon as she can.”

Aspen had left the question of William’s involvement unspoken, not wanting to put pressure on him, but he heard it anyway. “Things are too busy at work for me to take more than a day, and it takes most of a day just to get out there.” He sighed gustily. “I can fly out for the funeral if it’s on a weekend,” William said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Aspen felt stung by the complete lack of apology but did their best to swallow their disappointment. It felt stupid to be disappointed about something they’d known would happen. “I understand,” they lied, scrubbing their face with a cold washcloth as much to hide their expression as to avoid seeing his reaction.

“What do you want right now?” William asked softly. Aspen was surprised at the surge of anger they felt when they recognized what they’d come to think of as his Performative Ally Voice – which they couldn’t ever remember being directed at them before.

Aspen had to clench their teeth against the first several replies that almost escaped their mouth. They wanted some show of genuine emotion, not some manipulative parroting of Positive Masculinity TokTik. They wanted him to take time off work and fly out with them. They wanted him to be willing to accept literally any level of personal inconvenience to support them and their family.

Finally, when they were sure they had their voice under control, “space.”

William’s smile was both picture-perfect and completely insincere. “No problem. I’ve got some errands that need running, I can do those now.” He returned to the kitchen long enough to put a lid on the stir fry and check that the stove was off, then grabbed his keys. “Be back in about an hour,” he said before closing the door.

Mechanically, Aspen went around the apartment and turned off all the lights, then staggered to the bedroom to collapse onto the bed, feeling crushed by the enormity of how completely and agonizingly terrible their life had become. They were trapped in a dead-end job they hated, working for a company that chewed people up and spit them out. Just like they were trapped in a broken relationship with a man they no longer loved and barely even recognized anymore. And now Aunt Marcy, the woman who had introduced them to their love of witchcraft and supported them through every step of their journey, was gone.

✯ ✯ ✯

Aspen’s heart was in their mouth as they walked down the ferry ramp at the Victoria terminal to meet their Aunt Marcy, who had invited them out early for Christmas before the rest of the family showed up. Traveling a week before Christmas was unpleasant enough without the added stress of getting deadnamed and misgendered (they hadn’t yet found the energy to tackle the monumental task of updating any of their documentation), which had left them feeling nervous about how cool their Boomer aunt would be about respecting their new name and pronouns.

As it turned out, they needn’t have worried.

“Aspen! Sweetheart! You made it!” Aunt Marcy pulled them into a crushing hug before holding them at arm’s length. “You look good,” she pronounced.

Aspen couldn’t help frowning at their old clothes and running their fingers through their short brown hair – which was currently in the “complete bullshit” stage of growing out. “Uh. Thanks.”

Aunt Marcy took their suitcase and tossed it into the trunk of her car with her usual brisk efficiency. “Come on, then. I know you just got here, but we’re on a bit of a schedule,” she said cryptically.

Aspen assumed that she had just made reservations somewhere for a late lunch. They absolutely were not expecting to be dragged in for a fitting appointment at a wig shop. Or the appointment to get their makeup done that came after that. Or then getting dragged to four different stores at the mall to try on clothes.

Which is how they had ended up standing in a fitting room trying not to cry at the person who looked back at them. Still tall, yes, but elegantly tall - with long lavender hair, impeccable silver and purple eyeshadow with matching purple lipstick, and a simple long-sleeved black dress. It felt like such a fucking trans stereotype to say that they felt like they were seeing themself for the first time but. Well.

There they were.

“Everything okay in there, sweetheart?”

“Just. Just give me a sec,” Aspen said, blinking rapidly to clear their eyes, not wanting to ruin their makeup.

They had to fight down tears again at the way their aunt’s face lit up when they stepped out of the dressing room. “You look marvelous, darling! How do you feel?”

“Like… me?” Aspen twirled and laughed at the way the skirt flared out around them. “I just wish my feet weren’t so damned big, because everything else is perfect.”

“Hold that thought,” Aunt Marcy said, eyes twinkling, before rummaging in her bag and pulling out a pair of dressy black flats and handing them over. “I got your mother to tell me your shoe size and ordered these online.”

Aspen gave their aunt a stunned look as they accepted the shoes, which fit perfectly. “I can’t… you… when you said you wanted to help me with my magic, I had no idea…,” they flapped their hands, too overwhelmed to know how to finish that sentence.

“You would have gotten here on your own. I just helped you get here a little faster.”

Aspen beamed. “It would have taken me months… maybe years to have the nerve to do all this on my own.”

“I know.” Aunt Marcy winked. “Merry Christmas.”

✯ ✯ ✯

Aspen didn’t realize they had fallen asleep until they woke up to William returning and promptly turning on all the lights and his damned podcast before he resumed cooking. Muzzily, they picked up their phone to text Aunt Marcy about the day they were having, then dropped it when they remembered that she was gone. For a moment, it felt like their lungs were full of broken glass.
When the moment passed, they started a group chat with their mum and sister.

Crashed for a bit but I’m awake now. What’s the story on flights?

✯ ✯ ✯

Flying out wasn’t as terrible as Aspen had expected, but previous history with Pearson – Canada’s largest and busiest airport - set the bar pretty low. By mutual agreement, Aspen and their mum avoided all topics related to Aunt Marcy while they were traveling. Becks didn’t roll into the TravelBNB they’d rented in Victoria – none of them were up to dealing with Aunt Marcy’s empty house just yet – until late Sunday night, after catching the last ferry of the night to the Island.

Which is how Aspen found themself awake at the unholy hour of 6:30AM Monday morning (the Ontarians were still on Eastern time), blearily drinking coffee and trying to ignore their anxiety about William not having texted since they left as the three of them settled in to make funeral arrangements.

“So. As you know, your aunt made me executor on her will.” Their mum looked decidedly guilty as she shuffled awkwardly through a thick file folder of papers. “And. Uh. There are some things we need to talk about.”

Becks looked up from her laptop and raised an eyebrow. “Spit it out, Mum.”

“Well.” Aspen shared a sardonic look with Becks as Mum delayed by taking a large sip of coffee. “The main asset was the house, which Marcy has left to… Aspen. With some conditions. Sorry, Rebecca.”

For a moment, Aspen felt as if the room had suddenly tipped sideways.

Their shock must not have shown, because Becks just snorted and rolled her eyes at their mother. “Why are you apologizing, Mum? I already have a house, in a different province no less. What am I going to do with a second house? Obviously, Aspen should take the house if they want it.” Both women turned to look at Aspen. “Do you want it?”

Yes? Obviously.

“What are the conditions?” Aspen asked weakly. As their mum flipped through the folder, Aspen’s phone lit up with an unwelcome number. “Oh hell. It’s my dumbass boss. Give me two minutes? If I don’t take this now, things will be a lot worse later. Sorry.”

Their mum waved her assent and continued to look through the folder while Becks shrugged and returned to writing the first draft of the obituary.

“Good morning, Angelo. What’s going on?”

“I’ve sent three texts and two emails,” Angelo huffed, clearly already In A Mood. “Why haven’t you answered?”

Aspen rolled their eyes and invoked their best Being Polite To Idiots voice. “Time zones. I sent an email Friday evening that I would be in BC this week because my aunt died.”

“But what about the month-end report?” Angelo asked, sounding aggrieved.

“Tariq told me he’d asked about it on Friday.”

“And I told him that I’d get you the numbers this morning.” Translation: at 12:30, and Aspen would have been expected to skip lunch to get it in before the 1pm deadline. “So who’s going to finish the report?”

“I don’t know, but I am taking the five days of unpaid bereavement leave allowed by company policy after giving the required notice in writing. So I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”

Angelo grumbled some insincere condolences and hung up.

Aspen rolled their eyes again. “Okay, I have to square away a thing really quick, or my boss will keep being a man-baby about it.”

“You’re not seriously going to help him, are you?” Becks called after them as they went to the bedroom to retrieve their laptop.

“Oh hell no.” Aspen sat back down, logged into their laptop, and made a disgusted noise at the three emails and five Stack messages from Angelo. “I’m sending him an email summarizing our conversation and copying HR.”

“Can we get back to the house now?” Mum asked pointedly once they were done, arching an eyebrow over the top of her bifocals.

“Oh. Um. Yes?”

“So according to Marcy’s lawyer…” their mum started reading directly from a print-out of an email. “Marcy has left the house to Aspen on the condition that they relocate to Parksville full-time and open a witching practice within sixty days. Because of the family relation and because she registered Aspen as her apprentice with the BC College of Witches before they turned eighteen, a simplified process exists to transfer her witching practice to Aspen, as long they’ve kept up their certification with the Ontario College of Witches.” Mum looked up from the email to give Aspen an inquiring look. “You have kept up your certification, haven’t you?”

Aspen blinked. “Yeah, I have to for my job.”

“Good.” Mum looked back down and started to read from the email again. “Once the transfer has been processed, you’ll be paid a salary by the BC College of Witches according to several options. Your Aunt had opted for population-based compensation over fee-for-service, but you can change that later if you like. This compensation only covers service to residents and local businesses, so you can and are encouraged to charge tourists or other non-residents, at your discretion.

“If you decide not to accept, the house is to be sold and funds used toward living accommodations for a new witch to be selected by the BC College of Witches.”

“So the free house comes with a job I’m utterly unqualified for,” Becks joked. “Can’t imagine why Aunt Marcy didn’t leave it to me.”
Mum ignored Becks and gave Aspen a piercing look. “Do you want to accept?”

Again, Aspen felt the strange lurch of their entire world shifting sideways. Forty-eight hours ago, they’d had the worst day of their entire life, and now they were being presented with the solution to literally all their problems. Or at least everything except…

“Maybe?” Aspen took a gulp of their coffee in a futile attempt to avoid eye contact with Becks, who was watching them judgmentally over the rim of her mug.

“Did you want to go call your partner and talk about that?” Mum asked a little too casually.

The prospect of having that conversation before tackling any of the million decisions they’d be making that day seemed impossibly daunting. What happened if (when) everything went wrong and they still had decisions about obituary, burial arrangements, and funeral to make?

“William’s always very busy at work,” Aspen lied. “I’ll call him when he's done for the day.”

“Yes. Well.” Their mum sniffed, her expression ostensibly neutral but still managing to convey disapproval. “Thankfully that’s earlier here.”

Aspen hadn’t realized just how many decisions had to be made in planning a funeral. They’d been in their last year of high school when their father had died after a brief battle with pancreatic cancer, and their only memory of the funeral planning was of their mother refusing to let anyone help, to the point that she nearly worked herself into a state of nervous collapse.

Aspen was under no illusion that their mother, who was taking the role of executor very seriously, would yield control of any of the most important decisions. Instead, Aspen and their sister simply concentrated on the myriad of small, tedious tasks that needed doing – such as writing the obituary and putting together photos for a slide show at the funeral home – before their mother had time to stress about them not getting done.

They found the appointment to peruse the funeral home’s showroom of coffin and urn options (which they had no real opinions about) particularly surreal, and Becks clearly felt the same way. At one point while their mother was dithering between two nearly identical urns that would hold their aunt’s “cremains”, Becks and Aspen walked over to boggle at the most “deluxe” coffin on display, which was larger than the last car Aspen had owned.

“Unbelievable,” Aspen muttered. “If this was in Toronto, someone would be trying to charge a thousand bucks a month in rent for it.”
Becks grinned and assumed her best imitation of the pose from the car salesman meme as she slapped the top of the coffin. “This bad boy can fit so many corpses in it.”

It was a terrible joke, but the inappropriate setting made it ten times funnier. The two siblings ended up crying from trying and failing to laugh quietly, and Aspen couldn’t help but be relieved when mum threw them both out into the waiting room.

“Remember how Dad would always get us in trouble by telling us jokes in church?” Becks asked with a grin as she flopped into a monstrous armchair upholstered in a hideous pastel floral print.

“And how Mum always got mad at us for laughing, and not at Dad for telling jokes in the first place?” Aspen grinned and sat next to their sister. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“Right? Dad was always such a shit-disturber. It never seemed fair that we got in trouble and he didn’t.”

“Maybe Mum just knew it was pointless to try to get him to stop.”

“Maybe.” Becks sighed.

There were several moments of morose silence as they both contemplated their surroundings. “It's not fair,” Aspen finally said in a small voice.

“Yeah.” Becks sniffled and reached for one of the omnipresent boxes of tissues.

✯ ✯ ✯

Aspen and Becks forced their mother to take a break for lunch before diving back into planning for the funeral and visitation decisions that had to be made that day, since it seemed that pretty much everyone in the family was arriving on the Island either today or tomorrow.

“Can you blame them?” Becks had quipped. “It’s an ironclad excuse to take off work and escape winter before tourist season starts.”

Still, it seemed like they made about three million calls that afternoon getting everyone in their large family on the same page – an exercise made even more irritating given that their aunts and uncles would only respond to phone calls, the Millennial cousins would answer literally anything but a phone call, and the youngest cousins would only answer to Snaptalk.

By the end of the day, Aspen was so overwhelmed and exhausted that they crawled into their bed at the TravelBNB as soon as they were finished with dinner, in a futile attempt to beat back the migraine that was boring into their eye sockets.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Becks asked sweetly from the doorway.

Aspen refused to rise to the bait. “No. Absolutely not. I am not making any more decisions today. I will call him tomorrow.”

Becks gave them an inscrutable look. “Noted,” was all she said.

✯ ✯ ✯

Aspen slept terribly and woke already feeling anxious – a feeling exacerbated by the fact that William hadn’t so much as asked them if they had arrived safely, let alone asked how things were going. Or even messaged at all.

Becks barred their entry to the kitchen, where she and Mum had started folding programs, her expression severe as she handed Aspen a large mug of freshly brewed coffee. “Call. Him.”

Any protest Aspen wanted to make was cut off by the equally severe look their mother gave them. “Okay fine,” they huffed before going back upstairs.

The phone only rang twice before William picked up. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“Hey.” Aspen’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. They took a sip of coffee to steady themself, forgetting that it was fresh, and immediately burned their tongue. “Fuck that’s hot.”

William chuckled. “You called to tell me your coffee was hot?”

“No. Obviously.” Aspen sighed. “We need to talk about something that came up in my aunt’s will.” There was a pause during which William could have said something and didn't. Ordinarily, Aspen would have approached the situation with more delicacy, but the sound of William typing in the background and his refusal to even try to carry his half of the conversation annoyed them into being direct. “Aunt Marcy left me her house. There’s some paperwork hoops to jump through, but I can have it if I relocate to BC within two months and open my own witching practice. Otherwise, it’s getting sold and the money will go to the BC College of Witches.”

“Wow.” There was a brief pause, but the sound of typing continued. “Unfortunately, the firm doesn’t have a BC office, so relocating isn’t an option. I’d have to job hunt and start over at a new firm.”

It was exactly what they’d known he would say, so why did they feel so upset?

“I’m aware of that.” Aspen clamped down on a surge of anger and did not give in to the urge to ask how much progress toward partner he could have made in two years of working at his current firm. “I get it.” They didn’t. “But I need you to take this seriously, because this is a house that comes with the job I’ve always wanted – being a real community witch and really helping people. No strings attached, no having to worry about networking or side-hustles or making rent.”

Finally, the sound of typing stopped. “Wait. You want to take it?” William’s voice was disapproving. “You already have a job. You have seniority in your department and your boss is a moron. If you wanted, you could be running your team within six months.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Why throw away a career that’s about to take off just to go live in the middle of nowhere to, what, reprise your failed attempt at being a witchfluencer by being even more basic and cottagecore than last time?

Aspen was briefly shocked into silence, unable to believe that he was being so callous when they were talking about a chance to live their dream, the thing that they had been trying and failing to make happen for years. And then, with a sudden, painful shift in perspective – like a dislocated joint snapping back into place – they could believe it. They’d known for a long time that William had changed into someone they no longer loved or even wanted to spend time with, they just hadn’t been able to face it.

“Well, I’m going to take it,” Aspen said firmly. “I’m not walking away from my dream job and a free house to go back to a job that I hate and never wanted in the first place.”

“What about me?” William asked peevishly. “You can’t seriously expect to make a long-distance relationship work across three time zones.”

For a moment Aspen couldn’t breathe. It took them a few tries to find their voice. “I don’t.”

There was a long uncomfortable silence. “You don’t what?” William finally asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Aspen took a deep breath to steady themself against the pit of churning misery in their stomach. “Look. We’ve been on different paths for a long time, and this is just the thing that’s finally making us deal with the fact that we want fundamentally different things from life.”

Another pause. “What are you saying?”

Of course he was going to make them be the one to actually say it. “That I think it’s best if we… That I think we should break up.”

“I don’t agree.”

“This isn’t—”

“You’re not making any sense, Aspen,” William continued, cutting them off. “You’re obviously upset about your aunt’s death and shouldn’t be making any major life decisions while you’re still in shock.”

“I’m not, though!” Aspen felt a surge of cold fury as William actually scoffed, but continued speaking, refusing to let him cut them off again. “I mean, obviously I’m a bit in shock, but that’s not the point. My feelings deserve to be part of this equation, even if you don’t agree with them.”

“Can’t you just come home and talk this through with me?” William asked, his tone long-suffering. “You owe me that much.”

“Owe you?” Aspen sputtered. “For what exactly?”

“For the years that I carried you and let you live with me while you were making a go of the witch thing.”
Aspen felt as if they’d been dipped in molten lead. Carried them? Let them live with him? The witch thing? What about the years that they had taken care of William during law school? Or that final semester, when they helped him pay rent so he could quit his job to prepare for the Bar? What about the fact that it had been William’s idea that they move in together? That he’d been insistent that it didn’t make sense to pay rent on separate apartments? What about the fact that Aspen had told him it was their dream to be a professional witch the first time they’d met?

“Aspen.”

“No. I don’t owe you anything, and I especially don’t owe you this.”

“Aspen.”

“Goodbye, William. We’re done.”

“Wait—”

“Best of luck in your career,” they snapped, indulging in a cheap parting shot before they hung up.

The enormity of what they’d done hit them right after. They’d just blown up their entire life.

Knowing that their mum wouldn’t see or respond for a while, Aspen embraced the millennial stereotype for texting as a method of avoidance and sent their mum a short text.

I’ll take the house.
Please don’t ask me to talk about it.

- - - - - -

Thanks for Reading!

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Otherwise, follow here for chapters 4 and 5, coming the first week of July :)

Author's note: My WoL is a non-binary viera.

----

3.0 - AFTER THE VAULT

Count Edmont retired with his sons to mourn privately, but there was no escape to be found from his grief, or mine, within these walls - I couldn't stop hearing the clatter of Count Edmont's cane as it fell to the floor, and him with it.

He had begged me to keep my counsel, and so I held back the words that I longed to speak, that I needed to speak, of the moment when Heurchefant had given his life for mine with his customarily effortless gallantry. We'd clasped hands as friends one last time as his life's blood spilled out onto the stone walkway, and that dear, brave fool had been so relieved to see me unharmed that he'd even admonished me to smile before the spark of life left his eyes and his hand went slack in mine.

Alphinaud and Tataru withdrew to their rooms to mourn appropriately in private. I, on the other hand, threw on a coat against the chill Ishgardian night and went out to stalk the city.

Gods be damned, how many times was I going to have to live this nightmare? How many times would I have to watch good people try, and sometimes succeed, to throw their lives away to save mine?

Ul'Dahn greed had forced me to seek refuge in Ishgard after a scheme that had cost my friends and I nearly everything. Of all that had sacrificed themselves to allow me to escape that farce of a banquet, only Thancred had yet been found. General Raubahn, who had fought to allow our escape, had not only lost an arm, but had been imprisoned and tortured as well. That the charges against the Scions had been dismissed changed nothing - Ilberd and his traitorous lieutenants had vanished, and those in the Syndicate that had funded his coup wouldn't even get a slap on the wrist for their part in a debacle that had nearly claimed the Sultana's life. All because Raubahn had had the poor taste to murder the grasping snake who orchestrated the coup in the first place, which had been a far more merciful death than the miserable bastard had deserved.

And now here I was, watching it all play out again.

Knowing that we would inevitably expose the truth at the heart of the Dragonsong War, the Holy See had barely waited a week after our arrival to charge Alphinaud and Tataru with heresy. When that hadn't been sufficient to scare us off, they'd imprisoned and tortured Ser Aymeric, murdered Heurchefant, then just left as he lay bleeding to death.

Was there no true justice in the world?

Was this to be my fate until the end of my days - striving to aid those in need, only to have those I loved persecuted by the vampires who benefited from the current social order?

I wanted to scream. Wanted to go to the Forgotten Knight, get astoundingly drunk, and start a bar fight with a bunch of pampered nobles. But that would only make things more difficult for the Count - of whose house I was still a ward. So I prowled the Brume hoping that someone would try to mug me, but of course no one was foolish enough to make the attempt.

I walked until I could no longer feel my fingers or toes, and my face burned with the cold. Finally, not knowing where else to go, my feet carried me to the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly.

Lucia was sitting in her usual place outside Ser Aymeric's office, looking even more grim-faced than usual. "Master Merouc."

"I'm here to see Ser Aymeric."

I'd expected to be told that Ser Aymeric was resting, but Lucia surprised me by nodding. "He's left orders that you're to be allowed to see him. Come."

She stood and led me up the stairs to a private room in the Infirmary, then bowed and left.

Despite the late hour, Ser Aymeric was reading. He looked up as I entered, marked the page he was on, and set the book down on the window ledge. At his gesture, I closed the door behind me and trudged woodenly forward to collapse into the chair at his bedside.

"You should be resting," Aymeric chided gently. "You look as terrible as I feel."

I knew the comment was meant as a jest, but rage and grief bubbled up in me. "He was the only person willing to be our friend when we needed one," I said, feeling as though I was tearing the words out of my flesh. "After that farce of a banquet and those trumped-up charges, everyone turned their back on us."

Even you. I didn't say the words, but Aymeric flinched as he heard them anyway.

"Heurchefant didn't have to stick his neck out for us," I added. "He risked his reputation, which was already tarnished by being a bastard, to ensure our safety. It would have been easier for him to do nothing, But he did."

Aymeric said nothing, just watched me with dark blue eyes full of compassion. Watched and listened, and Gods help me, but I didn't have it in me to be Hydaelyn's Chosen just then.

"Heurchefant was one of the only truly good men I have ever known. People mocked him for being a bastard who somehow still believed in heroes, but he never struggled with right and wrong. Whereas I... I am called Warrior of Light, despite the darkness that I wrestle with each day, because I am strong.

"But strength isn't goodness. I don't know that I'll ever be able to cross Ul'Dah's gates without wanting to sink a knife in that snake Lolorito's throat for what he's cost me and mine. But Heurchefant... he would have..." My throat grew too thick for speech, so I sat and trembled with the effort required to keep my control, only for Aymeric to weaken it with his next words.

"My friend," he said softly.

The echo of what Heurchefant had always called me was too much for me to bear. I looked away to hide the tears I couldn't stop from falling, yet I stubbornly kept my voice even as I replied. "My grief is nothing compared to that of his family. Of his brothers in arms."

"Grief isn't a competition," Aymeric said gently.

I covered my mouth too late to stop the sob that escaped, nor could I prevent the one that followed. So I folded myself nearly in half and shook with a grief so intense it felt as if I might be torn apart.

"My friend, you are right." Aymeric's voice was hesitant, but the grasp of his hand on my knee was firm. "I have wronged you most shamefully. Your innocence was plain, but I did nothing, because it would have been politically inconvenient. And yet, you not only saved my unworthy life, but you have been the instrument of Ishgard's salvation several times over. Will you allow me to offer a pittance of redress?" When I shuddered and looked up to meet his gaze, Aymeric carefully scooted over and held his arms open. "You can rage, or cry, or whatever you need, and no one but myself or Lucia, whose discretion I can and have trusted with my life, will ever be the wiser."

I knew the instant it was offered that there was no way I could say no. Both Alphinaud and Tataru were too green to truly understand a warrior's rage and grief, and I badly needed this outlet.

I nodded, awkwardly shed my coat and boots, and - after considering how I could avoid further injuring Aymeric's bruised ribs - curled up with my head in his lap. For the next... half hour? Hour? He patiently stroked my hair as I clung to his legs and alternately sobbed and ranted until the storm of grief was spent.

When I had lain trembling and silent for several minutes, Aymeric reached up to activate the linkpearl in his earring. "Lucia. Master Merouc requires water. A lot of water, and... perhaps a selection of fruit?"

I nodded wearily.

"Some fruit, then. Your discretion will, of course, be required."

Lucia herself entered not more than a minute later with the requested provisions. Too exhausted to care about how miserable I looked, I didn't stir as Aymeric directed her to set the tray on the window ledge.

"Sit up," Aymeric ordered.

Unable to muster the will to argue, I complied, even though it left me pressed awkwardly against Aymeric's side. He handed me a full glass of water, which I needed no urging to drain in its entirety.

I had another two glasses and most of a pear before I was too unpleasantly full for anything more.

"I should go," I rasped hoarsely.

Aymeric frowned, looking as if he was choosing his next words with great care. "I do not wish to be misunderstood, so I will preface this offer by saying that this is not a proposition or a seduction. But." He squeezed my shoulder gently. "If you do not wish to return to Manor Fortemps tonight, you can stay with me."

I hesitated, wanting the comfort, but not so badly that I wanted to stay if he was only offering out of a sense of obligation.

"I won't be offended if you choose to say no."

"Then. Yes. Thank you."

Since two slept considerably warmer in a small bed than one, I removed my shirt and vest before getting into bed, then made Aymeric shift to the side closest to the door, so that he wouldn't have to injure himself climbing over me if he needed to get up in the middle of the night. It took a minute to find a position that was comfortable and didn't require either of us to dangle over the edge, but finally we ended up with Aymeric on his back and me curled against his side with my head on his shoulder.

"Rest, my friend. We will face it all together in the morning."

I closed my eyes, not expecting to sleep, and feel instantly into blackness.

- - -

I woke up groggy and confused at slightly past dawn the following morning, and struggled to make sense of my surroundings.

My bare chest was pressed against a broad, muscular back, in what was very much not my bed at Manor Fortemps - which suggested I'd attempted to drown my grief by getting drunk and hooking up with some anonymous knight or mercenary. I couldn't remember having sex, but I certainly felt awful enough to have been blackout drunk when it happened, and I couldn't imagine feeling comfortable sharing such a tiny bed with anyone I hadn't fucked.

My already-hard cock stirred, registering its interest in exploring the warm body we were curled around, since we couldn't remember doing it the first time. So, since my bed mate and I had presumably fucked already and today was going to be difficult enough without adding 'sexual frustration' to my long list of very potent woes, I squeezed my bed partner's waist and kissed their shoulder. "Good morning," I murmured.

They stirred and made a sleepy noise. When I ran my hand up one powerful flank, they shifted to press back against me with a noise that might have been interest.

I groaned, rutting against them as I curled my arm around their waist, and...

Look. I'm not proud of this, all right?

I was hung over from too much weeping and desperate for a small moment of bliss before I had to take up the mantle of the Warrior of Light once more. Which isn't an excuse for what happened next - groping someone who is asleep because they weren't immediately unreceptive is inexcusable, and I know that.

But, nevertheless, it's what I did.

I reached around to grip their cock through the soft fabric of their pajama pants, and found it just as hard as mine. My bed partner moaned and bucked against my hand, and I was just about to slip that hand under the waistband of their pants when I finally woke up enough to remember where I was and who I was with.

At which point I disengaged so hurriedly that I would have fallen out of bed if I wasn't on the side right against the wall.

"I'm so, so sorry," I stammered as I tried and was not able to put any amount of distance between us.

Gods, how had we managed to sleep in this tiny bed? Aymeric was so tall, and while I was short by the standards of my own people, I was still taller than Thancred. Even after flattening myself completely against the cold stone wall, there were still so many points of contact, and my only options for escape were either climbing over Aymeric (not an option) or out a second story window (rapidly becoming an option).

Aymeric turned around and caught my wrist before I could do more than brace my elbow on the window sill, and for a wonder his expression held nothing but understanding. "Anyone would have been disoriented after the circumstances of what you have just been through. Rest assured that I am not angry, and on my honor as a Knight I will tell no one of this."

I stared at him in wide-eyed shock, but finally I managed a hoarse "thank you".

I must still have looked quite the madman - Aymeric released my wrist dubiously, as though he expected me to attempt escape through the window anyway - and there was an excruciating eternity of eye contact before he sighed. "One night of comfort does little to redress a debt that I can never repay. Would you allow me to. Ah. Provide you some... relief?"

Gods help me, my face and my cock were both on fire. "I don't want to fuck anyone who feels obligated to be with me," I snapped.

Aymeric smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I offer because I want to. Because your pain grieves me, and..." He paused and laid a hand on my knee, and when he continued his voice was warm and entreating. "Because you're beautiful."

I blinked stupidly at him. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Amusement twinkled in Aymeric's ice-blue eyes, but he kindly did not laugh. "I do. And let you think I'm harboring some wish for deathless romance, I know there is no chance of that. My heart belongs to another, and your road will eventually take you away from Ishgard, whereas my place will always be here. And... I won't be offended if you say no."

I searched his face intently, but found only sincerity. Which, once again, was enough to convince me to accept his offer. "Then... how...?"

Aymeric's gaze was soft and so full of warmth as he gazed up at me. "Lie back."

I did, and Aymeric found a position that allowed him to nuzzle my erection through the fabric of my trousers as he unbuttoned my fly. I groaned as I impatiently kicked them off, only for Aymeric to take hold of my wrists, pinning them to the mattress before I could pull down my drawers.

He stopped my struggling with a stern look and again, I found myself caught off guard by his generosity. Given the enormity of our responsibilities, I had assumed he meant a rushed affair - just enough to bring me to orgasm and nothing more. But the tenderness in Aymeric's eyes was something I hadn't realized I needed until it was being offered.

"Oh," I said faintly. Unaccountably, I found myself welling up as he started to mouth me through the thin fabric of my drawers.

Satisfied that I wasn't going to continue trying to rush him, Aymeric released me, and I surrendered myself to his attentions.

When he finally started to peel drawers off, I found myself blushing. "I don't want to be the only one who's naked," I said self-consciously.

Aymeric smiled at me with understanding and stripped with brisk efficiency, revealing an expanse of lightly-scarred muscles that my imaginings could never have done justice. Then he knelt beside me, giving my cock the reverence he would give a saint as he engulfed the head with his mouth.

As before, his attentions were languid and unhurried without being teasing, his free hand working just as slow and steady at his own cock as he sucked me. My climax built with such exquisite slowness that I didn't realize how close I was until I cried out and came in his mouth. Aymeric swallowed me down without complaint, only pulling off of me when I started to go soft.

His eyes were unfocused and his breathing ragged as he stroked himself faster, clearly intending to finish himself quickly, but I surprised both of us by laying my hand over his. "Allow me?"

He nodded, eyes wide, and I wrapped my hand around him, running my thumb through the moisture leaking from his tip before I began to stroke him with the same unhurried deliberateness he had used on me. Even so, it didn't take long until he was gasping and trembling as he bucked into the circle of my hand.

"Come for me," I urged quietly.

Which he did, as beautifully as he did everything else. It was simultaneously a joy to watch and a relief to observe that I could enjoy his beauty without wanting to possess it.

Afterward, I buried my face in Aymeric's neck, and he held me tightly. For a few minutes I was safe in the shelter of his arms, and utterly, utterly cherished.

Of course, it couldn't last.

"As delightful as this is, I'm afraid I have duties that must be attended to," Aymeric said, his tenor voice heavy with regret.

I sighed. Nodded. "As do I. Obviously. Murderers to catch and all that."

Aymeric smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. "My offer stands open, whenever you have need. I am here to provide..."

He hesitated, and I broke in, unable to resist the obvious pun. "Succor?"

Thankfully, even Aymeric wasn't too chivalrous to laugh at a dick joke. "That too, when time permits."

- - -

I did avail myself of Aymeric's comfort after that whenever I found myself in Ishgard and was not actively being stabbed, shot at, or preventing people from perpetrating the same on their fellow citizens. Often, we did have sex, but sometimes he just listened to me rage, or held me as I cried.

And no, it wasn't deathless romance, because I didn't love Aymeric romantically, and didn't think I ever would. It was something I needed far more than mere romance - closeness. Tenderness. And warm, human touch.

Lucia caught on fairly quickly to what was going on, but refused to acknowledge it, acting as if this was just another service I was performing for Ishgard.

- - -

4.0 - AFTER BEING DEFEATED BY ZENOS AT RHALGR'S REACH

In the end, Aymeric's prediction about our ultimate fates proved correct. I struck down both Archbishop Thordan and Nidhogg, then stood at Aymeric's side as he laid bare the true origin of the Dragonsong War before the people of Ishgard. It was a surprise only to Aymeric when they subsequently made him head of both church and state.

As Ishgard's attentions turned from war to the long, slow, tedious work of peace, escalating tensions with Garlemald meant that I was called away with increasing regularity. Finally, after the disastrous failure of the Eorzean campaign in Ala Mhigo, it was decided that a contingent of Scions would journey to Doma to aid Gosetsu and Yugiri's countrymen in their fight against the Empire, and I knew that my days of calling Ishgard home had reached an end.

It didn't seem right to leave without saying goodbye.

Lucia nodded at me solemnly as I walked in to the Congregation of Knights Most Heavenly, as though it hadn't been a month since she'd seen me.

"Is the Lord Commander busy?"

"For you, he is never too busy," she answered earnestly.

I blushed. "Thank you. For everything."

Lucia gave me a rare smile. "I'll see to it that you're not disturbed."

Rattled by her calm acceptance, I wasn't paying enough attention as I entered Aymeric's office to notice that the lamps had been turned down until the door had already latched quietly behind me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and another much longer moment to register the meaning of what I saw: Aymeric bent over his desk against the back window, coat and pants removed and bare ass upturned. Behind him was a figure that, by the white hair and knightly dress, could only be Estinien, who was in a similar state of undress. The angle prevented me from actually seeing his cock, but the way his muscular thighs moved as he slowly pressed forward, I could easily imagine how it would look as he slowly sank inside the other man.

Aymeric cried out softly as he pressed back against Estinien, who - and perhaps I wronged him by assuming that he would be a forceful and impatient lover - unexpectedly showed Aymeric the same tenderness that Aymeric had always showed me as he brushed the hair from the back of Aymeric's neck and bent to lavish it with kisses. As he started to fuck Aymeric, his hips moved with a sinuous grace I found utterly captivating.

...Gods, what was I doing here?

I had to go. This was something private, not meant for me, but... what would I tell Lucia, who had thought that Aymeric was alone? She'd want a reason for my swift departure. I froze as I attempted to resolve the dilemma, but I was so hard I could barely breathe, let alone think.

Aymeric's face was soft with pleasure in a way that I had seen it many times before, and yet very much needed to not be seeing now, which made me decide to go and stonewall Lucia if need be. The Savior of Ishgard didn't have to explain themself if they didn't want to. But it was dark, and desire made me clumsy enough to trip and fall against the door as I turned to leave.

Movement stopped, and two sets of eyes turned toward me.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, turning red up to my scalp. "Lucia said you were alone."

"Yes. Well." Aymeric coughed and glanced at the window behind his desk, which was slightly ajar. Which was Estinien all over - why use the door when there's a perfectly good window?

I should go. I should make my apologies, and leave. And yet, I found myself frozen in place as I tried to explain the unexplainable. "I didn't mean... I-I'm leaving for Doma tomorrow, and..."

Aymeric exchanged a look with Estinien that was wholly unreadable to me, but Estinien nodded and pulled out of his lover, arranging his tunic so that he was covered before he turned around. Aymeric, however, continued looking at me over his shoulder and remained as he was - legs spread and ass open. "You don't have to go."

"I don't?" I wanted to leave, but my traitor feet carried me forward anyway.

Estinien shrugged, his guarded expression giving me no clues to his thoughts. "Your claim precedes mine."

"It's not..." I stopped and swallowed hard. "Aymeric is my friend, but he loves you," I protested, knowing without ever having been told that Estinien was the one who Aymeric had given his heart to.

Estinien's brows hit the ceiling, and now both of us were looking at Aymeric in confusion. By the look on Aymeric's face, my guess had struck the mark. However, Estinien's reaction made it plain that Aymeric hadn't seen fit to share that fact with him.

Gods above and below I was making an unholy mess of this. "What... what do you want, Aymeric?"

Aymeric's blue eyes looked at me unflinchingly. "I'd like to send you off in the manor you had envisioned," he replied, then cast an uncertain glance at Estinien. "And... if you don't find the idea repugnant, I'd like Estinien to stay. I don't wish there to be secrets between us."

I hadn't a jot of attraction toward the Azure Dragoon, but... I couldn't say that Aymeric's proposal didn't have a certain appeal.

Estinien gave a typically Estinien shrug. "If there is no question of where the allegiance of his heart lies, I would not mind sharing his body with you as comrades on the eve of battle."

My face was so warm that my cheeks felt painful and crisp, and I had a sudden flash of insight as to the appeal of Ishgardian knightly circumlocution. Couching the proposal in flowery language surely made it easier to say than 'Since you're off to get butchered by the Garleans, I don't mind if you fuck my boyfriend while I watch'.

I nodded, looked away, and started to remove my coat.

Estinien looked amused at my discomfort as he retrieved his pants, folded them with great fastidiousness, and set them down on Aymeric's chair - which had been pushed against the wall - before seating himself. I resisted the impulse to turn away as I removed my pants - Aymeric had already seen my cock, and it would be impossible for Estinien not to see it if he was going to watch me while I fucked his lover with it.

Aymeric nodded at the vial of oil on his desk, which I used to lubricate myself. As Estinien had already worked Aymeric open for me, I slid into him easily, burying myself completely with a groan. As I started to move inside him, Aymeric braced his weight on his elbows and arched his back, just as he had when it had been Estinien's cock inside him.

Estinien pulled his tunic aside and started to stroke himself slowly as he watched us, which heightened both my nervousness and my arousal. My self-consciousness about having an audience vanished fairly quickly, however, as I lost myself for a few minutes in Aymeric's weat heat, the bliss on his face, and the noises he made each time I thrust into him.

Eventually, Estinien's soft breathing gave way to low moans. I felt an almost dizzying rush of blood to my cock as I looked over to see him watching us with raptor intensity. He groaned louder when I caught his gaze, his grip tightening convulsively on his cock.

"Look at what you're doing to Estinien," I groaned, thrusting hard into Aymeric and pausing there.

Aymeric turned his head, and I watched something in him catch fire as the two of them made eye contact.

It wasn't the first time I'd had an audience while fucking someone, but those had been casual encounters without any real meaning. Fucking a dear friend in front of their lover was an entirely new experience, and it changed... everything. I almost didn't recognize my own voice as I asked, "do you like having him watch you like this?"

"Yes," Aymeric gasped, seeming just as affected as I was. His usual patience vanished as he clutched the desk and shoved back against me with a keening moan, and suddenly I wanted something more forceful than our habitually tender love-making.

"Gods," Aymeric breathed. "Do it. Fuck me."

I gasped, shifted my grip to his hips. "Estinien," I said loud enough for both men to hear. "Is a very lucky man."

I started pounding into Aymeric, relishing the slap of flesh on flesh, and he urged me on with desperate, needy moans. I could hear Estinien's breathing grow harsh and ragged, but I had eyes only for Aymeric as he begged me for more.

When I knew I was close, I lowered my weight onto my elbows, covering Aymeric - who twisted to kiss my clumsily. "Can I come inside you?"

"Yes," Aymeric hissed, elongating the sibilant. Then, "yes," again, a full octave lower. And then he was a sobbing, writhing mass of yes as he cried out and clenched around me, pulling me over with him.

I sobbed with the strength of my climax, losing the rhythm of my thrusts entirely as I thrust another half dozen times and spilled into Aymeric.

I went limp on top of him when it had passed, and we lay like that for a minute as we both panted for air. When I finally mustered the strength to stand and pull out, Estinien was looking about in dismay as he tried to keep his tunic out of the mess he'd made of his chest.

With a laugh, I pulled a handkerchief from my coat pocket and handed it to Estinien. "Keep it."

Estinien thanked me gravely and used it to clean himself, then Aymeric.

I got dressed awkwardly, not looking at either man as they followed suit.

With an ease that I badly envied, Aymeric gestured for us to to be seated as he used his linkpearl to request a tray of refreshments for three, which a young page brought a few minutes later.

Grateful for the excuse to do something with my hands, I poured myself a cup of tea. "Thank you," I said, unsure who exactly I was directing my gratitude towards.

Estinien surprised me by replying first. "You were good for each other. And I owe you."

I gave him a sour look and a soul-weary sigh. "Not you too."

Estinien shrugged, unrepentant, and snagged a piece of cheese.

I shook my head, pulled a wrapped bundle out of my coat pocket, and placed it in front of Aymeric. "It's several months journey to Kugane, where we will then, apparently, have to negotiate with pirates for safe passage to Doma, so I imagine it will be quite some time before I'm back. And. It seemed only appropriate to give you a token of my thanks before I leave." I paused, then awkwardly added, "I made it," as he started to unwrap it.

Inside was a silver pegasus rampant with sapphire eyes - the color and insignia of House Borel - fashioned into a cloak clasp. Aymeric looked up at me with wide eyes. "It's beautiful. Truly you are a person of many talents, my friend. But you didn't have to do this."

"I know. I wanted to." I clenched my fists in my lap as I took a deep breath. "Whatever debt you feel you owe me, I discharge it." When Aymeric tried to protest, I cut him off. "I can and will happily call in the debt owed by the Nation of Ishgard to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn for many years to come. But you - Aymeric de Borel - owe me - Savvel Merouc - nothing. I was drowning, and maybe it's melodramatic to say that you saved me, but... you did."

I fidgeted, uncomfortable about my effusiveness in front of Estinien, but the Dragoon just shrugged. "Of the two of us, you had the healthier coping mechanism by far."

"Estinien!" I exclaimed. "Was that a joke?"

His lips twitched with a faint but undeniable smile. "No."

Aymeric was looking at me with shining eyes as his hand curled around the cloak clasp. "Thank you. I will treasure this gift."

I nodded, then stood. "I should go. I have packing to attend to."

"Of course." Aymeric rose and pulled me into a tight hug.

"This isn't goodbye forever," I murmured into his shoulder. "It's goodbye for now."

He kissed my forehead before he released me. "May the Fury guide you."

I turned to Estinien and hesitated, uncertain of how to bid farewell, and he solved my dilemma by clasping my wrist. "Give them hell, Warrior of Light."

-----

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Author's notes: As always: (1) I don't care what the devs say, Alisaie is absolutely not 16. By 6.0, she'd be about 23. (2) In a world where no one is explicitly gay or trans, that means anyone can be. Therefore, Alisaie and G'raha are T4T.

- - -

7.0 - SHARLYAN

G'raha was losing his mind.

Both because he badly missed his partners, Savvel and Alisaie, who had set sail for Tulliyolal two weeks and five days ago (the longest they'd been apart since making their arrangement 'official'), and because it was the longest he'd been celibate in... well...

Ever.

Savvel and Alisaie called him in the evenings - calls which often devolved immediately into surreptitious linkpearl sex, which had initially had served to scratch the itch of his longing for... intimate company. Unfortunately, the past few days, their regular calls were only aggravating G'raha's state of sexual frustration, to the point that he felt as if he were about to climb out of his skin.

And while his partners had promised to pop back to Sharlyan for a visit as soon as they were able to attune to a local aetheryte, he knew that they'd have more pressing business to attend to for a while. Meaning that it could be another two weeks before he actually got to see them again.

But how was he supposed to last that long? His desperation was such that he was starting to act like a horny lunatic - witness the fact that he was currently pacing agitatedly in his room at the Annex while stark naked and muttering to himself as he waited for their call.

Finally, finally, his linkpearl chimed.

"Good evening, Raha," Alisaie said cheerfully as soon as he'd answered.

"I want your cock inside me right now," G'raha interrupted, his hand already between his legs as he threw himself onto the bed.

Savvel chuckled. "It's like that, is it?"

"It's like that," G'raha said firmly.

"Well then," Alisaie said, smile audible in her voice. "Who am I to argue?"

- - -

Hearing Alisaie's (admittedly wonderfully filthy) descriptions of what she wanted to do to him and not being able to actually touch her was... awful. G'raha tried to push the feelings away and focus on his desire, but the more his pleasure built, the more his dissatisfaction increased. When he finally climaxed, something inside him snapped, and he found himself sobbing into the blankets.

"Raha, love," Savvel said urgently. "Talk to us. What's wrong?"

G'raha mumbled a disclaimer, and Alisaie snorted in disgust. "Just because I can't personally smack you doesn't mean I can't call Ojika and tell him to do it for me."

G'raha laughed. "Don't do that. I'm naked."

"He'd consider it another administrative duty and you know it. Now talk, or I really will call him."
G'raha knew when he was beaten. "I... I miss you," he choked out. "And I'm-- I feel like I'm losing my mind? These calls are the high point of my day, but they're also not enough anymore. I need someone to touch me, and I want it to be you, but it can't be."

"Oh Raha..." Alsaie's voice softened. "Have you... gone to the library?" (Alisaie's term for cruising, which was fair, given that he was in Sharlyan.)

G'raha sighed heavily. "No? Not for that, at least."

Savvel made a concerned noise. "Do you need us to give you permission again?"

Alisaie spoke before G'raha could answer. "You know, I think he needs us to make him do it."

"Hmm. I think you may be right," Savvel replied seriously.

"Of course I'm right!" Alisaie shot back.

"Now wait a minute--" G'raha protested, not liking the direction things were going.

Alisaie ran right over him. "You've got two days, Raha. I demand that you get someone's dick in you by then, or we're not having linkpearl sex until you do."

G'raha buried his face in his hands. "Savvel, surely you can't--"

"Sorry, Raha. I'm with Alisaie on this one." Savvel said, sounding ruefully sympathetic. "I know this is the pot calling the kettle black, but sometimes you need us to step in and save you from yourself."

"That's not true," G'raha shot back hotly.

"It is and you know it."

Gods dammit. "Fine," he grumbled. "It is."

"Glad to hear you're willing to be sensible," Alisaie said dryly. "Now go get a cock in you. That's an order."

- - -

G'raha spent the next day delaying the inevitable by handling Baldesion business that he could have delegated to Ojika, only to find himself panicking as he was getting ready for bed. What if he wasn't able to find a willing partner tomorrow? He hadn't had to cruise the library for a hook-up in... well, either a few years or more than a century, depending on how you counted it. What if he'd lost the knack?

He fell asleep fretting about it and had uneasy dreams all night.

In the morning, he decided that the best course of action was to tackle it right away. So after a perfunctory breakfast, he informed Ojika he'd be stepping out and headed to the library.

This early in the morning, there were plenty of tables free in the study area.

G'raha dropped his bag at a free table, then went to the anthropology section to grab a book on Mi'quote mating customs, which he left facing the chair across from him - the usual signal to those in the know that he was looking for a casual encounter. Then he pulled a notebook out of his bag and started compiling notes for a report that he'd been putting off.

Or at least, he tried to. His nerves made it difficult to focus on what he was doing.

It had been years since he'd picked anyone up at the library - since before the Crystal Tower expedition. Was he even using the correct signal? What if they'd changed since his time at the Studium?

Motion caught his eye, and the hint of a familiar face--

He looked up from his writing as a tall, shockingly handsome Highlander man passed by, his arms loaded down with books. There was a moment of accidental eye contact, then--

No. It couldn't be...

...but by the shock of recognition on his face, it seemed that it was.

Arnkell Ironfist - the teaching assistant G'raha had fucked on a near-daily basis during his second year at the Studium. That is, until Arnkell had gotten stuck teaching one of G'raha's classes halfway through the semester - at which point he'd abruptly dissolved their arrangement and... never spoken to G'raha again.

G'raha went dry-mouthed at the sight of Arnkell, who was somehow even hotter than he'd remembered. For one, he was tall, even for a Highlander, with tawny brown skin, piercing hazel eyes, and a lean, wiry build. His long black hair, neatly braided, was now streaked with premature grey at the temples, making him look sexily distinguished.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Arnkell swallowed hard and set his books on the next table. His gaze flicked to the book across from G'raha as he slowly took a seat. Since Arnkell didn't seem inclined to actually approach, G'raha shrugged unhappily at him and went back to his notes.

He was pathetically grateful for the interruption a few minutes later when a Hyur man of indeterminate extraction dropped into the seat across from him. "Looking for some research assistance?" the stranger asked with a significant glance down at the book.

Arnkell was very deliberately Not Looking At Him.

The stranger, meanwhile, was good-looking enough. Tall, stocky, and fair, with saturnine features and the effortless arrogance of a Studium professor. (His face was vaguely familiar, now that G'raha considered it... Antiquities? Archaeology?)

"Yes, I could use some assistance." G'raha said decisively, closing his notebook and tucking it in his bag.

The professor's lips curved into a sly smile.

- - -

They went to the washroom, into the far stall. The professor (he didn't offer his name and G'raha didn't care enough to ask) immediately pinned him against the wall and kissed him aggressively until G'raha's head was spinning.
He whimpered when the professor broke the kiss, took his hand, and placed it on the ridge of his erection. "You're desperate for this cock. aren't you?" he breathed into G'raha's ear.

He whimpered again and nodded.

"That's a good boy," the professor murmured, face already flushed with arousal as he stepped back and started to unbutton his pants. "Show me how much you want it, then. Kneel for me."

G'raha's breath caught with excitement as he went to his knees. He kept his eyes on the professor's face as the other man opened his pants and freed his erection, and...

His dick was... fine. Average, with no real distinguishing characteristics - certainly nothing that would inspire poetry. But it was here, attached to a real flesh-and-blood person, and right now that was all that mattered.

G'raha pulled him into his mouth and started to suck him quietly, and the professor's eyes slid blissfully closed. "I want you to touch yourself."
Goodness. Alisaie and Savvel were never this bossy.

...alright, that was a lie - they were bossy, but only about things that they already knew G'raha wanted.

Still, G'raha was enjoying finally having a cock in his mouth, even if he'd have preferred it in one of his other holes, and he was far from mad about the idea of jerking off while he blew the hot, bossy professor. So he pulled away long enough to unbutton his pants and slip a hand into his drawers.

The professor took hold hold of G'raha's face, his gaze intense as he looked down. Guessing what he was after, G'raha opened his mouth wide, and the other man pulled his head into position so that he could thrust into his mouth. As the head of his cock slid past G'rahas lips, the noise he made was so reminiscent of Savvel that G'raha couldn't help but moan around the other man's cock.

"That's it." The professor fisted his hands in G'raha's hair. "Now how much of me can you take?"

He wasn't so large that it was a challenge for G'raha to relax his throat and breathe through his nose.

"I'm going to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours," the professor groaned as he started to do just that.

G'raha stroked himself, aroused by the professor's obvious enjoyment, and happily enjoyed having his face fucked until finally, the other man made a strangled little noise, shoved G'raha's mouth right against the root of his cock, and came.

A moment later, he withdrew unceremoniously and tucked himself back in. "My thanks," he said before... just...

Leaving?!

G'raha just stared, not quite comprehending what was happening until the other man was already gone.

Finally, he furiously put himself back together - which took some doing, the professor had completely ruined his hair - and stomped back out to his table, intending to give the boor a piece of his mind.

Unfortunately, both the professor and Arnkell were long gone.

G'raha growled in frustration and left.

- - -

He was still fuming about it when Savvel and Alisaie called that evening.

"So. Get a cock in you yet?" Alisaie asked, clearly expecting the answer to be no.

"Yes," G'raha answered testily.

"Oh no," Savvel said, sounding as if they were trying not to laugh. "What happened?"

"Well it started out promising," G'raha said darkly before telling them about what had happened with Professor Selfish. (He decided not to mention running into Arnkell.)

Alisaie was predictably furious on G'raha's behalf. "If we were anywhere near an aetheryte, I'd come give that guy a piece of my mind."

"I know." G'raha couldn't help but smile as he pictured her doing exactly that. "Thank you."

"I hope you're not going to let this put you off trying again?" Savvel asked delicately.

G'raha thought wistfully of Arnkell, and wished fervently that it had been him he'd been with. Arnkell would never have left him so unsatisfied. "Yes-- I mean. No. I'll try again tomorrow."

"Well, then. Gold star," Alisaie purred, her tone distinctly amorous.

G'raha's state of sexual frustration ratcheted up another notch. However, as badly as he ached to have a cock inside of him, he didn't feel like settling for his partners' imaginary cocks. "Look. Tonight, can we just... I mean. I know bottoming isn't..."

"Tell us what you want, Raha," Savvel said patiently. "And we'll talk about it if it's a problem."

"I want to hear one of you to stuff a cock in the other. I don't care who, or which hole."

Alisaie made an interested noise. "I don't fancy bottoming in a bed that's moving, but what if we took turns fucking each other's mouths?"
"Sounds perfect," G'raha and Savvel said in unison.

- - -

Jerking off while listening to his partners took the edge off in the moment. However, that night G'raha dreamed that it had been him they'd been fucking, and he woke up even more desperate than ever. He grit his teeth and got himself off as efficiently as possible, which at least afforded him a little relief, before throwing himself out of bed to start his day, promising himself that he'd definitely take a break around lunch to go to the library and make another attempt at finding a partner who could satisfy his desperate lust.

He was surprised when his linkpearl chimed with a call from Ojika just as he was sitting at his desk.

"There's someone here to see you," the Lalafell administrator said. "Says he's an old friend. Should I have him make an appointment for later?"
G'raha blinked. "No," he said slowly. "Tell him I'll be right out."

Arnkell was waiting for him in the lobby of the Annex. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday," he began hurriedly as soon as he saw G'raha. "And..." he paused awkwardly and glanced at Ojika. "And for... before that too, really."

Taken aback by this unexpected turn of events, G'raha was surprised to hear himself say, "I haven't had any breakfast yet. Would you like to join me at the Last Stand?"

Arnkell smiled happily. "That sounds wonderful."

It was a lovely day, so they walked instead of taking an aetheryte.

"I've had a lot of time to regret how I ended things," Arnkell said ruefully. "And aside from apologizing, I figure you deserve to at least know that the way things ended mostly wasn't you. I mean, during that course I took over... I definitely panicked, and I am sorry about that. But then, after it ended, I got... Well. I don't know what else to call it other than the opportunity of a lifetime. A fellowship I'd only found out about a day before the application deadline, applied for, and forgotten about. I was completely unprepared when I actually won it, and ended up boarding a ship for Eorzea three days after the end of the term.

"I thought about writing while I was away, but somehow I never managed it. And by the time I returned to Sharlyan, you'd apparently just left for Eorzea yourself. So I figured that was that."

G'raha repressed an annoyed sigh, reminding himself that he also could have written and had chosen not to. "Well. I'm glad to know that it wasn't anything I'd done, at least. And I'm happy that things seem to have worked out well for you. You're teaching at the Studium these days, I take it?"

"I am," Arnkell confirmed.

There was a break in the conversation as they arrived at the Last Stand and went about finding a table.

"What about you?" Arnkell asked awkwardly after they'd placed their orders. "How have you been?"

G'raha blinked, unsure of how to even begin answering the question. "Honestly, so much has happened to me since our time at the Studium that I don't think you'd believe me even if I knew how to explain it."

Arnkell grinned. "I don't know about that. I heard that you've taken up with the Savior of the Star, so I can only imagine what trouble they've gotten you into along the way." He paused, and his expression darkened. "Not that I should make light of that, I suppose. I was in Garlemald when the Final Days began. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, being on the front lines and all."

G'raha grimaced. "It hasn't... there have been challenges, but. I can't say I regret them." He smiled shyly and held up his left hand to show off the ring he still wasn't used to wearing. "Savvel, Alisaie, and I..." he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

"I'm very happy for you," Arnkell said with genuine delight.

G'raha shrugged in embarrassment. "How about you? Still single?"

Arnkell shrugged. "I'm too married my work to want a relationship, to be honest," he said easily. "My parents were both professors at the Studium before they retired from teaching and moved into pure research. And while they're brilliant academics, they were terrible partners to each other, and terrible parents, to be frank.

"So I've been quite happy sticking to short-term liaisons, especially as there are a number of people I've formed... uh. Understandings with over the years, similar to... to what we-- Well. You know." He broke off with an expressive grimace as their food arrived.
It smelled too delicious to resist. G'raha made a happy noise a the perfectly flaky crust of his egg-and-cheese pie, and Arnkell looked similarly pleased with his omelette.

"You know," G'raha ventured after a minute of awkward silence, hoping that he'd interpreted Arnkell's hesitation correctly. "Savvel, Alisaie, and I... we're. Uh. Romantically attached, but... it's not... exclusive? Savvel is the Warrior of Light, and Alisaie... well. Neither Savvel nor I could compete with a mission she'd truly set her heart on. So while.... circumstances--" Gods, what an underwhelming euphemism for his time on the First and the following chaos of the Final Days! "Have prevented me from looking elsewhere for quite a while, most recently I've found myself stuck in Sharlyan while the two of them gallivant off to the New World with Krile. And it's been... lonely."

Arnkell arched an eyebrow and smiled. "How long have they been gone?"

G'raha groaned. "Three weeks today, but it honestly feels like they've been gone three years."

"Sounds tough," Arnkell replied with wry sympathy.

G'raha wrinkled his nose and had another bite of pie. "Not nearly as tough as adventuring. I'm just doing too much paperwork and feeling horny about my partners being gone."

Arnkell's eyes twinkled. "Like I said. Sounds tough."

G'raha laughed.

There was a long pause. Then. "Listen," Arnkell said guiltily. "After how I ran out on you, I'll understand if the answer is--"

"Yes," G'raha said eagerly, not waiting for him to blunder his way to the end of the question.

Arnkell looked stymied.

G'raha snorted. "You're going to ask if I'd like to renew our understanding while we're both in Sharlyan, right? The answer is yes." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You don't know how desperate I've been to get someone's cock inside me, and yours would more than fit the bill."

Arnkell smiled slowly. "So that other guy..."

"Ugh." G'raha sat back and rolled his eyes with remembered indignation.

"Oh," Arnkell said, surprised. "So you didn't."

"No, I did," G'raha replied disgustedly. "Or rather, he did."

Arnkell grinned and took a long sip of his tea. "Well. I've got a meeting in twenty minutes with a student of mine, but perhaps we could meet at the library afterward?"

G'raha's mouth went suddenly dry. "That sounds perfect."

When they were finished, Arnkell paid the bill. "I owe you," he insisted when G'raha tried to pay his share, then leaned down to kiss G'raha's cheek. "See you soon," he murmured in G'raha's ear.

- - -

G'raha went straight to the library and picked out a book on Turali culture, which he took to the same table he'd had the previous day. His throbbing need made it nearly impossible to focus on the contents, but he eventually managed it, and slowly the ache between his legs faded.

Only to return with a vengeance the moment he caught sight of Arnkell.

The tall Hyur was smiling as he approached. "I had my assistant book us a private study room," he said softly, grinning when G'raha slammed his book shut and stood so fast that he almost knocked over his chair.

The room was tiny - just large enough for a sturdy table and four chairs, and entirely bare of decoration. Arnkell pinned him against the wall by the door as soon as it was closed, but unlike the professor it was clear that he was thinking about G'raha's pleasure as much as his own.
He pressed one of his strong thighs between G'raha's legs for him to grind against as they kissed, Arnkell's kisses slow and methodical, as if he expected to write a scholarly treatise about G'raha's mouth later. And it was so familiar, so nice, and so safe that G'raha felt like he was catching fire.

"Please," he moaned, clutching desperately at Arnkell's (pleasingly firm) biceps. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me right now."

Arnkell chuckled and nipped at G'raha's jaw. "That can be arranged," he murmured before stepping back.

G'raha hurriedly shucked his clothes, then sat on the edge of the table with his legs spread, watching Arnkell with undisguised impatience as he stripped far more slowly, first taking off his long scholar's coat, then his shirt, revealing a smooth expanse of well-muscled chest with only a hint of softness around the middle.

The long, thick ridge of Arnkell's cock was clearly visible through his cream-colored pants. Arnkell watched G'raha with raptor intensity as he removed his pants with teasing slowness, revealing legs that were still just as toned as G'raha remembered them. When he finally removed his drawers, sliding them down over his hips to puddle on the floor, his cock immediately bobbed free, and G'raha couldn't help but gasp at the sight of it.

It was nearly the length of G'raha's forearm from elbow to wrist, and correspondingly girthy, and G'raha knew from past experience that it would stretch him to his limit. He couldn't wait to have it inside him.

Arnkell's upper chest was already flushed as he leaned over G'raha, placing his hands on the table on either side of his thighs, and... Gods he was massive. Savvel was tall, certainly, but Arnkell was a giant - six fulms, fours ilms, and more than a full fulm taller than G'raha himself.

"How do you want me to take you?" Arnkell asked softly, clearly very eager to please - another pleasing point of dissimilarity from the professor. "Over the table? Against the wall?"

G'raha licked his lips. "Over the table sounds wonderful, but..." he glanced down at Arnkell's enormous length, which was resting heavily on his knee. "It's been three weeks, and neither of my partners are as... ah. Large as you are."

"Not many people are," Arnkell replied, smiling as he captured G'raha's lips in a soft kiss. "I can go slow and we can change positions if it's too uncomfortable?"

"Yes," G'raha replied eagerly.

Arnkell stepped back so that G'raha could lie on his stomach on the table with his legs hanging over the side. G'raha lifted his tail out of the way, expecting Arnkell to thrust into him immediately, but the other man surprised him by going to his knees instead.

"Wh-what--" G'raha gasped, shocked at the sensation of Arnkell's nose nuzzling his dick.

"Shush." Arnkell spread G'raha's legs wider with his enormous hands. "You said it's been a while, and I want you to enjoy yourself."

G'raha had to clasp his hands tightly over his mouth to keep from making noise as Arnkell started lapping at him with his tongue. The tall scholar remembered exactly how G'raha liked it, and shortly had him writhing in pleasure.

"Please," G'raha whimpered. "Please. Please just put it in, I'm so close."

Arnkell groaned, stood, and positioned the head of his enormous cock at G'raha's entrance. "Tell me when to stop," he murmured as he slowly thrust into him, and...

Gods he was so much to take.

G'raha really didn't want him to stop, but when he made a small involuntary noise of discomfort, Arnkell did anyway.

"You okay?"

G'raha nodded. "Keep going. Just... go slowly."

Arnkell made a soft noise of acknowledgement and resumed pushing forward, the stretch as G'raha was forced to accommodate his girth both uncomfortable and glorious. He stopped to let G'raha breathe after he'd taken what felt like several more fulms. "A little more than halfway," Arnkell said.

"I want all of you," G'raha said impatiently, ignoring the small voice that insisted his cock would never fit by reminding it that it had - lots of times. And he needed this, Gods did he need this.

G'raha whimpered in frustration when Arnkell pulled nearly entirely out before reversing course to fill and fill and fill him.
"Yes," G'raha exhaled. "Yes... gods, yes..."

This was what he'd been craving. He'd gotten so used to being stuffed full of Savvel and Alisaie's cocks - either as they fucked both of his lower holes, or fucked him from both ends. He hadn't realized that that feeling of fullness was what he'd been craving so desperately until this moment, as Arnkell's huge cock filled him so completely.

Arnkell leaned over him, braced his weight on his elbows as he covered G'raha with his enormous bulk, and kissed the back of his neck. "You feel so good."

G'raha shivered. "Is it all the way in?"

"Not quite." Arnkell slid out an ilm, then back in the same length, and the stretch was nearly all pleasure now.

"Give it to me," G'raha demanded.

Arnkell stood, took hold of G'raha's hips and withdrew entirely, making G'raha gasp at the sudden shocking emptiness. And then he fucked back in, pushing forward in one smooth thrust until he had buried himself completely. G'raha was almost choking in his effort not to cry out in ecstasy, and then Arnkell gave one final little push, and G'raha couldn't help himself.

He clutched the table top in a death grip, opened his mouth in a silent scream, and came.

"Gods," Arnkell groaned. "You weren't kidding about how badly you needed this."

"N-no," G'raha slurred.

"We've got the room for another twenty minutes. I'll take my time, and we'll see if I can't get you to come again."

Arnkell patiently held himself to a maddeningly slow pace as he fucked G'raha with long, even strokes. And despite that G'raha almost never came from penetration alone, the dizzying pleasure of Arnkell's massive cock as it stretched and dragged against him was so incredible that touching himself would have been too much to bear.

He was close by the time that Arnkell started to lose the rhythm of his thrusts. "Gods," he gasped, his hands tightening convulsively on G'raha's hips. "Sorry, I-I can't..."

"Do it," G'raha gasped, pushing back to meet Arnkell's thrusts. "Come inside me."

Arnkell choked back a moan of pleasure as he thrust hard into G'raha a handful more times and came. The warm rush of his spend and the feeling of Arnkell's massive cock pulsing inside him finally pushed G'raha over the edge once more, and he convulsed with delicious agony as he came so hard he saw stars.

When it was over, Arnkell leaned forward, once more bracing his weight on his elbows. His breath was warm against the back of G'raha's neck as they both trembled and panted through the aftershocks. "This is nice," Arnkell said softly. Then, tentatively, as though he wasn't sure it would be welcome. "I missed this."

G'raha chuckled. "Me too."

Arnkell laughed quietly and withdrew. The feeling of cold air, was shocking, as was the warm dribble of Arkell's spend leaking out of him, and couldn't help but jump when a cloth was pressed against him. "I came prepared."

G'raha winced, realizing that he was starting to be rather sore, and murmured a healing cantrip as the larger man cleaned him up. "Thank you."

"I made the mess," Arnkell pointed out with good humor. "Only fair I should clean it up."

- - -

They left holding hands, and walked to sit on a bench under a nearby tree.

"How long are you in Sharlyan?" G'raha asked shyly.

"Until the end of the semester, so... A little less than a month."

G'raha took a deep breath. "You said that you've had other... ah... understandings, but. If... I'd like..."

Arnkell smiled and squeezed his hand. "I do have someone I'm seeing at the moment, but... what we have is very different, and this... you, I mean. It was... incredible."

G'raha blushed. "So, you're saying we could..."

"I think I can help you rectify your tragic state of cock starvation," Arnkell teased, laughing when G'raha's blush deepened. "The only caveat being that my schedule is rather full, and I don't want to neglect my other partner."

"I don't have any other partners, but..." G'raha sighed as he thought of the amount of work waiting for him back at the Annex. "My schedule is rather full as well. The Students keep me very busy."

Arnkell smiled ruefully. "I can imagine." He reached into his pocket for a notebook, scribbled a linkpearl code onto a corner of a page, and tore it off to give to G'raha. "I can have my assistant talk to your assistant about finding us some time? I don't think I can promise every day, but... I want to make the most of the time we have while we're both here."

G'raha beamed and tucked the paper safely into his pocket. "That sounds wonderful."

Arnkell leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'm... really glad we got to do this."

"Me too." G'raha looked up, and the uncertainty he saw in the other man's eyes gave him the courage to be vulnerable. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... I like you a lot."

"Me too," Arnkell said softly. He hesitated before continuing guiltily. "I never reached out because I was too worried about our difference in status, but now... Well. If anything, the balance has tipped rather in your favor, and... I mean. Once this is over..."

G'raha was smiling so widely that his face hurt. "I'd like to be friends, too, if that's what you're asking."

"It is," Arnkell said, relieved. "And this time I'll stay in touch. I promise."

- - -

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Author's notes:

As always: (1) I don't care what the devs say, Alisaie is absolutely not 16. By 6.0, she'd be about 23. (2) In a world where no one is explicitly gay or trans, that means anyone can be. Therefore, Alisaie and G'raha are T4T. (3) My WoL is a non-binary viera.

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----

POST 7.0 - AFTER DEFEATING BLACK CAT IN THE ARCADION

Black Cat's expression was a mix of resentment and consternation as she watched me sign the paperwork agreeing to the next match and hand it back to Metem. "Wonderful! I'll let you know when the match is scheduled," the Millala said, waving over his shoulder as he left. "Pleasure doing business with you, Master Merouc."

"Unbelievable," Black Cat muttered as soon as he was gone. "I can't believe he didn't warn you."

I turned back toward her and arched an eyebrow at her. "Warn me?"

Unaccountably, Black Cat blushed. "Well. It's just. Everyone from Solution Nine would already know this, but. Since you're not from here..."

I crossed my arms impatiently. "Spit it out. Do I need to get those forms back from Metem?"

"No! I mean." Black Cat held up her hands and took a deep breath. "It's just. You'll want to arrange to have one of your mates attend the match. And if not, well... you've already got lots of fans, and I could. If you like. Make some introductions?"

I stared blankly at Black Cat for several long, extremely awkward moments. "I swear I'm not trying to be obtuse," I finally said. "I just... I'm not following your meaning."

The Hhetsarro fighter's ears flattened as she turned an even brighter shade of pink. "Honey's feral soul is a bee."

I blinked. Was this one of those situations where my demisexuality was making me inconveniently immune to subtext? "And?"

"She. Uh. Uses pheremones."

My own cheeks flushed hotly as comprehension finally dawned. "Ah. I see." I thought back to the similar situation I'd encountered fighting Lakshmi, after which I had sourced a recipe for pheremone-negating potions. "I'll be sure to take the appropriate precautions. Thank you for your consideration."

Black Cat looked relieved. "Honey makes Metem a lot of money, so everyone is just used to dealing with the inevitable consequences. I don't think anyone was trying to screw you over. It's just easy to forget that it wouldn't be obvious to outsiders."

"I understand."

"Tell your guest to check in with admissions, and you'll both be provided with a private room after the match. That is, assuming Honey doesn't. You know. Kill you."

I didn't bother to correct Black Cat's assumption that I'd need to rut after my match with Honey - the conversation was already uncomfortable enough. "She's welcome to try. She won't succeed."

Black Cat grinned. "You'd better kick her ass," she said cheerfully, extending a hand. "I only want to get beaten by the best."

"You've got it." I grinned back and shook her hand. "She won't know what hit her."

I called Ojika as I left to request the ingredients for the pheromone potion be delivered to my rooms, then called Alisaie, figuring better safe than sorry.

"Savvel! How bad did you demolish your opponent?"

"She gave me a nice workout."

Alisaie snorted. "Nice to hear it wasn't a complete waste of your time. I can't say I understand why the savior of the whole bloody star finds it necessary to smack around some two-bit regional arena fighters."

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Now, now. Be nice. Raubahn came as one of those 'two-bit fighters'."

"I suppose."

"Anyway, I called to ask if you wanted to come to the next match?"

"Of course! What kind of a question is that? I always love watching you thrash people."

"Great. So apparently..."

- - -

I'll admit I enjoyed watching the smug look on Honey's face turn to panic when the first hit of pheromones had no effect. Almost as much as she must have enjoyed the look of panic on my face when she unexpectedly hit me with a second blast halfway through the match. The potion mitigated most of it, but my pants still started to feel far too tight.

Pushing all thoughts of physical discomfort out of my mind, I snarled and lunged forward, making Honey squeak in alarm as she barely fluttered out of the way. I'd gotten worse when I'd fought Lakshmi, and Honey was no primal. Besides, it wasn't likely she'd have the energy to hit with a third blast.

...she hit me with a third blast. Right as one of the simulated champions and I tag-teamed her, knocking her out cold. A couple of seconds later, the simulacra vanished, leaving me on my own.

I buttoned my Red Mage's coat and tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt while Metem pronounced me the winner.

- - -

Metem took me out a different way than I'd come in, escorting me to a doorway in what looked to be a dormitory for resident champions. "Take as long as you need," he murmured, not making eye contact as he trundled off.

I was sweating and my cock felt as if it were being strangled by my pants, but I couldn't face the prospect of going in like this. Not yet. With a groan, I banged my head against the wall and linkpearled Alisaie.

"Savvel? What's going on? Where are you? They showed me to this room and said you'd be joining me, and then they just... vanished."

"I need you to promise not to laugh at me," I said, concentrating on the cold metal of the wall against my forehead in an attempt to focus on something besides my increasing state of sexual frustration. It didn't work.

"Okay..."

"I'm serious," I snapped, picturing the bemused face that I knew would have gone with that tone.

"Alright! I promise."

I activated the door and slunk in, finding Alisaie standing in the middle of a small room with a very large bed, a tiny bathroom, and nothing else. And I did not pounce on her - much as she would have enjoyed that - because I was determined to prove that I could maintain some dignity , dammit, no matter the ridiculous circumstances that had gotten me here. "I wanted to show them that they don't need to use souls to be strong," I said stiffly.

(That's not all that's...) Woodenly.

We'll show her some...

Dammit all , even my inner monologue was betraying me.

With a start, I realized Alisaie had been watching me with a confused expression on her face. "Okay," she said, obviously not for the first time.

"I don't like the idea of a bunch of traumatized kids huffing someone's grandma so they can beat the shit out of each other longer and make the sponsors a few more gil."

Alisaie choked back a laugh. "Sorry. Your phrasing was really funny, there."

I smiled despite myself. "I was trying to make you laugh," I admitted. "But here's the part that's not funny." I unbuttoned my coat and tossed it on the floor before gesturing miserably at my erection. "After what happened with Lakshmi, I had potions that I thought would be strong enough, but... Insect pheromones are apparently a lot more potent."

Alisaie's eyes widened. "Oh dear." Understanding dawned on her face, and to my immense relief she didn't seem to find the situation funny at all. "Well. This is definitely one of the weirder ways I've been asked to assist with one of your crusades, but weaning the surviving Alexandrians from their soul addiction is an admirable goal. So! Let's see what we're working with."

I groaned with relief and shoved both pants and drawers down past my hips, too impatient to bother with the fastenings. My cock was painfully erect by this point and dripping pre. "I'm so hard it hurts," I whimpered.

"It's not painful if I touch it, is it?" Alisaie asked, licking tentatively at the head of my cock.

I moaned loudly and fisted my hands at my sides to keep myself from grabbing her head. "N-no."

"Good. Get the rest of those clothes off, and get on the bed."

- - -

I was so hypersensitive that Alisaie sucked me for all of a minute before swallowing down my first orgasm, which didn't even make a dent in the blood-fever that gripped me. She kept going until I came again, which took enough of the edge off that my erection was no longer painful, but didn't do anything to alleviate the raw need screaming through every nerve ending.

I threw an arm over my eyes and moaned with despair. "If these are breeding pheromones, then..."

"Blowjobs might not be enough," Alisaie finished. When I opened my eyes, she was eyeing me speculatively, and I could tell she was trying to decide if she was up for bottoming when I was in this state.

I shook my head. "I can't promise not to be rough. I'm literally on a mind-altering substance, remember?"

"Fair," Alisaie sighed as she rolled onto her side and reached for her earring. "G'raha? Don't panic, because Savvel is going to be fine. But they're having an emergency and you're needed in Solution Nine right away.

"Mmhmm. The Arcadion.

"Tell them you're here for Savvel. Please hurry."

The entire exchange took less than a minute, and yet I was almost crawling out of my skin again. "I'm so sorry, but it's starting to hurt again."

Alisaie's blue eyes flashed with anger. "I'm going to tear strips off of whoever thought it was okay to let you go into this blind."

She definitely wasn't wrong. "And I'll help, but I can't do that if my dick explodes."

"Right. Sorry."

As if the entire situation wasn't mortifying enough, the door whooshed open right as I came for a third time, allowing my shouting to echo around the corridor. G'raha froze in the doorway, eyes wide with confusion, and only entered when Alisaie waved him over. (Thankfully, the door closed itself behind him.)

"This is the emergency?"

I hid my face with my hands and would have curled into a ball if a significant portion of Alisaie's weight hadn't already been on my legs. "Don't laugh," I pleaded.

Alisaie spoke, her voice rippling with anger and disbelief. "Savvel got a super dose of insect pheromones, and blowjobs are only providing temporary relief. I've already made them come three times, and yet..." She trailed off, presumably gesturing at my dick, which remained hard enough to drive nails.

"Well then." I almost cried with relief when I recognized G'raha's Thinking About A Very Serious Problem Voice. "If they were breeding pheromones, then I'm not surprised."

"Black Cat did offer to set me up with some female groupies," I mumbled, wishing the void would just claim me then and there and end my suffering. "Apparently all of the other arena fighters are just used to dealing with it. And when Alisaie showed up, I guess everyone thought it was. You know. Handled."

I finally summoned the nerve to peek at G'raha, and couldn't help but melt a little when I saw his shoulders stiffen with resolve. "I'm glad you called me, then. It's not safe to leave you like this. Give me..." G'raha's tail lashed as he did some rapid mental calculations. "Twenty minutes to be. Ah. Less male."

"G'raha, no ," I yelped, horrified at the idea of reducing his gender - both our genders to the biological imperative of reproduction. "You don't have to..."

"I know," he interrupted forcefully. "But you have trouble with people you don't care about--"

"But--"

"--and I'm a consenting adult. So shut up and let Alisaie take care of you while I prepare some things."

- - -

I held out as long as I could before getting Alisaie to blow me for a fourth time. She used every trick in the book to make it last as long as she could, but I was on a hair trigger - refractory period be damned - and was starting to get uncomfortable again by the time the door opened. A leggy Hhetsarro readhead walked in, who I only belatedly recognized as G'raha .

"Holy hells , Raha," I breathed, levering myself up on my elbows, my erection momentarily forgotten.

G'raha's unbraided hair hung loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the black corset, which had been cinched enough to give him a more feminine shape, and a pair of very skimpy black drawers. That on its own would have been sexy as hell, but someone had also given him makeup - a fairly simple face, but expertly contoured to soften his masculine features. It was an astonishing transformation, considering how little time he'd taken.

Alisaie looked as stunned as I felt. " Fuck , Raha. You look... incredible."

G'raha blushed adorably. "I couldn't do anything about these," he said, gesturing to his ears and tail. "So..." I couldn't take my eyes off him as he padded over and stretched out on the bed next to me, then gently pulled my face toward his neck. "Come here and smell this."

I inhaled cautiously, smelling perfume and... something else. Something I couldn't identify, but which eased the pain in my cock slightly. "Gods," I groaned, driving my face into the crook of his neck. "What is that?"

He cleared his throat. "Scent from one of your female viera... admirers."

A hot, sickly wave of shame washed over me. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't seem to make myself let go of G'raha. Entirely contrary to my will, my body seemed to move on its own as I pulled myself tightly against him, wanting to feel his skin on every inch of my body. "That's... incredibly humiliating."

G'raha made a sympathetic noise and shifted so that I could wrap my leg around one of his. "I understand how you feel, but let me at least assure you that her consent was extremely and unambiguously enthusiastic."

I whimpered and rutted my erection against his leg. "That's nice, but it doesn't stop me from hating every second of this."

"Your reaction confirms some things for me, so..." G'raha stroked my hair soothingly. "I know this is a fraught subject for you, but. You're going to have to get me pregnant."

My cock felt as if it had been hit by lightning. I grit my teeth and squirmed with discomfort at the intense rush of arousal his statement provoked, even though breeding had always been a hard line for me in our bedroom play, and spent the next several moments wrestling down the urge to tear G'raha's drawers off and start fucking him that instant.

I was a human , not some rutting beast! I hadn't let my own people reduce me to a biological imperative, and I'd be damned if I let some two-bit arena "champion" take that from me after I'd beaten her.

"You're a man!" I wailed. "And a Mi'quote!"

"That doesn't invalidate my gender - men can and do get pregnant. I could get pregnant with another Mi'quote."

It seemed very important to win this argument, but it was hard to argue with a nearly-naked G'raha even when my cock wasn't stealing all the blood from my brain, and under the present circumstances... "I'm not--"

"It's my choice." G'raha forced my head up so that I could see his face, and my heart contracted at the love and worry I saw reflected in his eyes. "Savvel, I know you left home because you couldn't stand the thought of being a breeder. But breeding is what these pheromones are compelling you to do right now, and breeding with me is the best and safest way to get you through this. If you hate it, we don't ever have to do it again. But while it's happening... try to think of it as a safe way to explore something you've always been horrified by."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "That... makes a lot of sense," I grumbled reluctantly.

Alisaie startled me when she spoke up. "Should I go? I mean, I'd happily stay because... fuck , you two are so hot right now. But... should I go?"

I blushed hotly and was faintly amazed that I had enough blood left anywhere else in my body to do so. "You don't have to leave. It's common for viera women who are in season to. Uh. Share the males when they come around."

Alisaie was trying very hard not to smile, and not quite succeeding. "So if I cheer you two on and talk up how much I want you to put a baby in me next..."

I whined with pain as my discomfort ratched up several notches. "Yes. Please. That. Can we get to the fucking now, please?"

G'raha grimaced and started removing his drawers. "Up against the headboard. You'll be able to smell me better if I ride you while you're sitting up."

I shimmied backward and propped a pillow behind my back as I got into position. I was dimly aware of Alisaie shedding her own clothing, but couldn't take my eyes off of G'raha as he crawled up the bed, straddled me, and ground against my cock.

I humiliated myself by pushing my face into his neck and coming from that alone.

It did, at least, do a better job of relieving my discomfort than Alisaie's mouth, but... "I need to come inside you, Raha," I pleaded.

"My apologies. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you to be quite that sensitive." G'raha swiped his hand through the spend on my chest, used it to lubricate my cock, and sunk down onto me, taking my entire length at once.

I sobbed with relief and arched my back as he braced his hands on the headboard and started to ride me.

"That's it, love. Time to breed." He leaned forward so that his neck would be close to my face as he fucked me, and I just about died from how good he smelled. "I'm going to milk that cock of yours. Get you to fill me right up with cum, make me nice and pregnant."

I shuddered, horrified at hearing this kind of talk from G'raha, but I couldn't deny the wave of pleasure that hit me, or stop myself from bucking up to meet him.

"I think Savvel likes that," Alisaie cooed. "Keep going."

"That's it, love," G'raha said encouragingly. "You want to put a baby in me, don't you?"

I moaned and nodded frantically. My cock was steadily leaking into G'raha by this point, the juices of my arousal causing him to squelch softly as he rode me, making me feel as if I was indeed being milked.

"Think of Raha with your baby inside him, walking around with that cute little pregnant waddle," Alisaie added. "And what his belly would look like as he's bouncing on your cock."

I moaned even louder at the image, despite its deep emotional repugnance, as my orgasm loomed over me.

"That's it. Let go," Alisaie said in a low, husky voice. I could imagine her hand wrapped around her cock, but I couldn't let go of G'raha, could only cling to him helplessly and desperately drank in his scent as I tried not to die from sheer pleasure. "Shoot your seed nice and deep, and then you can breed me."

That did it.

I cried out, every muscle in my body spasming in pleasure as I spent inside G'raha, then collapsed limply against the headboard and desperately tried to catch my breath. This time, I felt the blessed sensation of my cock starting to soften, though the need was still there, lurking around the edges. "One more, I think," I panted, then winced. "But also... off . I'm starting to chafe."

G'raha kissed my forehead and pulled off of me, and Alisaie extended a hand to use some healing magic on my poor, abused member.

There were tears running down my face that I couldn't stop. "I hate that I like this so much," I whined. "I know you said it's okay, but it feels so wrong."

G'raha shushed me and pet my hair. "It's okay, love. It's all pretend, and we don't ever have to do this again once you're done."

" Good ," I replied fervently.

Alisaie looked up at me as she let the flow of magic stop. "Feel better?"

I looked down at my cock (which was starting to stiffen again from the residual tingling of healing energies now that the pain was gone) and sighed gustily. "I don't feel like I'm losing my mind anymore, but I definitely need one more. And I think me fucking Raha this time will help the most."

Alisaie moved aside to give us more space before she resumed stroking her own fully-hard cock. "Any objection to letting me finish in your mouth when they're done, Raha? If I can be patient that long, that is."

G'raha smiled at Alisaie as he lay back and spread his legs. "Of course not."

" Gods , Raha, I don't deserve you." I covered him and pressed my cock back into him with a groan. And it was good, it was always good, but... "Damn. I'm pretty overstimulated." I whined in frustration as I tried to find an angle that wasn't so sensitive. "I need to come, but it's going to be. Uh. Difficult." I corrected myself at the last second to cut off Alisaie's inevitable pun.

"It's okay, love. We'll get you there," G'raha murmured gently as he pulled my face back toward his neck. I inhaled deeply, and that helped, but not as much as what Alisaie said next.

"You won't be able to fuck Raha in that position for long once he's pregnant, you know. Too much pressure on his stomach."

I groaned with pleasure as the friction of G'raha's hole against my cock became markedly less painful. "Yes. More," I gasped.

"Raha might not want to keep the tits, but mine will get nice and big when you put a baby in me too."

"You'll have to fuck us on all fours," G'raha said quickly, continuing the scenario.

"Or have us ride your cock."

"Think of how good Alisaie's big, pregnant tits will look while she's bouncing on your dick."

It didn't make any sense, I knew it didn't make any fucking sense, but my cock didn't care. Something about the mental image of an impossibly-pregnant Alisaie bouncing on my cock with milk-heavy breasts drove me crazy. It seemed to drive G'raha crazy too - he started moaning as Alisaie went on to describe the things I could do to her swollen body, and I could tell that G'raha would come if we changed position.

I pulled out of G'raha abruptly and flipped him over. "I want you to come," I panted, tugging urgently on his hips.

Thankfully, he knew what I wanted and was eager to oblige. He scrambled onto all fours, plunged two fingers into himself, then started stroking his dick as I fucked back into him.

My brain was pudding by that point, and I would have said just about anything. Still, I definitely wasn't expecting to hear myself ask, "w-will our kids call you Daddy?"

G'raha moaned and thrust back against me. "Yes. But I can't be a Daddy if you don't get me pregnant, so hurry up and put that baby in me."

"Come for me, then, and make me believe you want it!"

G'raha moaned loudly and threw his head back as he lost the rhythm of our movement, and a moment later he cried out and clenched around me. I shouted loud enough that they probably heard it on the First, buried my cock to the hilt inside him, and spent what felt like a river of cum. As soon as Raha subsided, I went limp and flopped onto my back, panting as if I'd just run a marathon.

G'raha flopped onto his stomach beside me. "A moment," he gasped. He took half a minute to catch his breath, then flipped onto his back and opened his mouth.

Alisaie groaned and immediately started fucking his face. At any other time, the sight of her small, perfect breasts jiggling as she thrust into G'raha's lewdly sucking mouth would have been impossibly enticing. But while I felt emotionally moved by the frustration she had endured to help me, my cock felt as if it might never stir again.

Thank the Gods.

Alisaie thrust about a dozen times, then made G'raha take her up to the root as she came down his throat. "Fuck," she groaned. "I'm sorry to benefit from your suffering, Savvel, but that was so fucking hot."

I whimpered, and G'raha had to prevent me from curling into a ball by octopusing himself around me. "I never. Want to do that. Again."

- - -

I slept until the next day and woke up to tea and a nice breakfast. "It's for a good cause," Alisaie said, cutting off my grumpiness. "And your next opponent is a big, dumb bully who uses a bomb for his feral soul, so no worries about a repeat of all this."

"Thank the Gods," I muttered, tearing into the feast laid out in front of me.

There was silence for a minute as we enjoyed our meal. Then Alisaie cleared her throat. "What if... what if I fought her? Honey," she added, when we didn't immediately take her meaning.

G'raha (who was back in his masculine attire, to my immense relief) raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Alisaie smiled. "You can find a nice Elezen to sit on your face during my fight so you smell right while I'm fucking you, and I won't be in such a bad state because this time we'll know how to handle it."

G'raha took a sip of tea as he considered. "I'd want to skip the drag. Fucking in a corset isn't something I'd like to do again." I put my head in my hands, and grit my teeth to keep from apologizing (which I had been forbidden to do). When I had mastered myself, G'raha was watching me with a sympathetic expression.

"I understand why you hate it, Savvel. But we're different people, with different experiences. I never had the same issues with breeding that you did because I left home, and then I transitioned, and I pass well enough to call myself a Tia. And it's not something I'd want to do regularly, or with anyone other than the two of you, but... It was fun." G'raha smiled and gave me a mischievous wink. "And I look forward to doing it with Alisaie, because I think she'll be much filthier."

"You know it," Alisaie quipped. "And, drag or no drag - either way is just as hot for me."

"Then sure. Sounds fun." G'raha twinkled at Alisaie, then turned his gaze back on me. "Should we count you out?"

My lovers gave me space to think as I searched my feelings. The idea of a frantically desperate Alisaie did sound very appealing, but the idea of engaging with more breeding play made me uncomfortable. "I'd like to watch, but not participate, I think. It sounds hot, I just... don't want to engage with it."

"Great." Alisiae gave me a too-innocent smile before looking back at G'raha. "I'll start mixing up a big batch of baby batter." She cackled when I gagged and G'raha choked on a mouthful of tea.

I glared at Alisaie and waved a finger at her impotently. "I take it back. That was repugnant, and if you say anything like that around me before the fight, I'll have Metem ban you from the arena. And he'll do it, because he needs to keep me happy!"

Alisaie just waggled her eyebrows at me. "Understood."

---

End Notes:

Hat tip to whoever on Tumblr made the joke about huffing grandma - I couldn't find the post again to credit them.

Alisaie's last line is something I read while researching this fic and will haunt me until I fucking die.

Notes:

1. I am aware that the devs claim that everything from 2.0 through Dawntrail has taken less than a year, and I call bullshit. Plot mentions of transit time (four months sailing to Doma, three months to Sharlyan) reveals this to be dev laziness, pure and simple. You can't tell me I ended a 1000 year war, liberated two nations on different continents from their colonial oppressors, traveled to an alternate dimension to prevent a future where I died, went to the moon and the literal edge of existence to stop the end of the world, and traveled the length and breadth of the fantasy equivalent of North and South America... All in less than one year. No. Absolutely not. No way.
So I'm ignoring that. My personal headcanon is that it's been as long in-game as it's been in the real world. Ish.

2. My WoL is a non-binary viera.

3. Follow my in-progress writing ramblings on Bluesky: @ashthestampede.bsky.social | Support my writing on Patreon & read ongoing chapters of my original works 2 months before they're released anywhere else: patreon.com/ashkreider

GHIMLYT

The war camp was a flurry of preparations. It took effort to keep my expression light as I made my way through the camp to the final strategy meeting before the assault, not wanting the rank and file to see their vaunted "Champion of Eorzea" as anything other than the fearless paragon I was supposed to be.

How was I supposed to be a symbol of hope when I was struggling to hold onto it myself?

Were the others here, we could have easily held off half an Imperial Legion with just Scions alone, but now only two of us remained to take the field. Would it be enough?

After all, Papalymo wasn't here to pull a rabbit out of his hat this time.

"Please, Hydaelyn. Let that damnable voice stay away until after the battle is finished," I muttered to myself, making a furtive gesture of warding.

Alisaie appeared out of the hustle and bustle, falling into step beside me. "Ready to frighten some Garleans?" she asked with breezy self-assurance, giving me a smile that was equally parts teasing and challenging.

Gods. She really had changed so much in the two years we'd known each other, hadn't she? When we'd first met in Ul'dah, she'd been a surly teenager so uncertain of her identity that she'd settled for being a pale imitation of her twin, despite being entirely unsuited to being a scholar or an Arcanist. And now here she was, a Red Mage nearly on par with my own strength, and a seasoned campaigner to boot.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Shit. I hadn't meant to stare. "I'm just. I'm glad you're here," I said awkwardly.

Alisaie blushed and looked away. "Well I couldn't very well abandon you, could I?"

I smiled. "And I'm grateful to have you at my back, but I do feel rather naked without the other Scions here."

"I wouldn't mind seeing that," Alisaie quipped, mischief dancing in her eyes as she looked back up at me with a suggestive smile.

Unaccountably, I tripped over my own foot.

Alisaie grinned at my discomfort and broke into a jog. "Come on then," she called over her shoulder. "Or they'll get started without us!"

My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I stared after her for a long moment.

What the hell had just happened?

- - -

It says a lot about the life I've lived since coming to Eorzea that Garlean invasions were starting to feel old hat, but. Well.

Hien and Yugiri talked me up to their countrymen, whose contingent I would be fighting with. Raubahn gave the usual stirring speech. And then it was over, and all there was left to do was wait.

When the council was over, Raubahn joined Pippin in his futile attempts to convince Nanamo to retire from the field while the other worthies scattered to attend to their own business, once more leaving me alone with Alisaie.

"I should be terrified," she mused, crossing her arms as she surveyed the rest of the camp. "But with you at our side, I can't help but feel everything is going to be all right."

I shrugged, unable to muster any other response, and she turned to pin me with a glare.

"So don't you dare leave me alone."

My stomach did a slow swan dive as I stared into her piercingly blue eyes, and I only belatedly remembered to nod.

That seemed to satisfy her, at least. "No matter what happens, we have to survive," she said in a steely voice. "Together."

Was I blushing? I might have been blushing. "I promise," I said hoarsely.

Alisaie nodded jerkily, then turned away as she self-consciously made a show of checking her equipment.

I did the same as I wrestled with my feelings.

What in the hells was I thinking? Alisaie was a... Well, technically she wasn't a child, but at my age, using the fact that she was eighteen to justify any kind of relationship would be nothing but rank sophistry, and we both knew it.

"I have to get my head back in the game," I muttered to myself, scrubbing my hand across my face.

And then, without warning, that electric, obliterating pain was back - like someone was trying to yank my soul out through my nostrils.

:THE LIGHT WILL EXPUNGE ALL LIFE.:

"No!" Alisaie gasped, turning back toward me. She staggered, clutching her skull in pain. "Not now!"

:ONLY YOU CAN FORESTALL THE CALAMITY.:

Pain. Pain and fear and pain, and panic in Alisaie's eyes that mirrored my own. "Don't," I gasped. She reached for me, and I struggled to reach back, the movement causing bolts of agony to cascade down my arm. "You can't--"

:THROW. WIDE. THE GATES.:

Alisaie's face was a mask of anguish. "Not like--"

She collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut, and the voice vanished as it made off with its prize. I crawled over - when had I fallen? - and pulled her into my lap. She was breathing, thank the Gods. But I knew that I was holding nothing more than an empty shell.

I was alone.

- - -

AMH ARENG

I'd finally arrived at Journey's Head, only to be told that Alisaie wasn't there. So back into the sands I went.

The sky was too damned bright in the First, and the reflection off the sand was nearly blinding. I should have sent Feo Ul to the Source to request a pair of smoked glasses from Tataru before setting out from the Crystarium, but it was too late for that now.

How typically Alisaie to hare off to the literal edge of the world in search of adventure after finding herself stranded in an alien world.

I could have waited, I suppose. But despite the Exarch's promise that my friends were whole and well, I needed to see her. I needed to know that she-- that they were all okay.

I spent a good twenty minutes trudging through the sands, sword and focus at the ready, before I finally spotted the tell-tale flurry of alabaster wings. However, before I could move to intercept, a familiar voice rang out from somewhere above me. I looked up just in time to see someone leap from the top of an old watch tower, some twenty-five feet up, to plunge a long blade into the sin eater's back.

Alisaie!

I was seized with relief so intense that for a moment I felt dizzy. She was okay!

Better than okay, actually. I'd never seen her make a leap like that before, and there was more strength behind her blows as she took on the weakened sin eater.

I clapped as she finished the monster with a final well-placed thrust. "Impressive!"

"Just a lesser eater," Alisaie she said with studied diffidence, keeping her back to me as she sheathed her blade. "Nothing to write home about."

"Not happy to see me then?" I teased.

"I knew you'd turn up sooner or later, but I had been hoping for sooner," she shot back, her smile as wry as ever.

The fact that she'd be angry with me for distracting her while out on patrol was the only thing that kept me from sweeping her into a giant hug. As it was, I knew I was grinning stupidly and didn't much care. "It's so good to see you."

Alisaie turned away, ostensibly to study the horizon, but the set of her shoulders betrayed her fraying control over her emotions. "Come on then. We can catch up after we finish patrolling."

- - -

Tesleen lit up when she saw us return together. Tesleen and Alisaie were obviously close, because Tesleen immediately started needling her friend extensively about how much she'd missed me, and Alisaie didn't once threaten to stab her.

"I respect Savvel's methods!" Alisaie finally cried, throwing her hands up in disgust.

Tesleen's laughter echoed around the small shelter, and then the conversation took a turn I hadn't expected. "After seeing them in action, I can understand why. The way they leap into the fray without hesitation, it really is something to behold! I might be a little smitten myself!"

Alisaie turned red right up to her hairline and stalked off.

There was a long silence as Tesleen watched me with a knowing look.

"Smitten," I said flatly.

It wasn't a question, but the blonde carer heard what I was asking anyway. "I said I was a little smitten. Her feelings go well beyond that."

I swallowed as I recalled the way she'd smiled in the Ghimlyt camp when she said she wanted to see me naked.

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

- - -

I tossed and turned that night, plagued by dreams of sin eaters in Garlean uniforms, and woke feeling tired and grumpy.

Over breakfast, we were asked to acquire some supplies at the market, so off we went - the Champion of Eorzea and their heroic companion - to slay the dreaded provision beast. Thankfully, the need to be on the lookout for flying eaters precluded any awkward conversations about feelings, and we fell easily into our old rhythm as we made the hour long trek to the Suq, only relaxing once we'd passed through its thick stone walls.

Our needs were simple. Fresh fruit, particularly nectarines. But Alisaie looked so sad as she carefully packed the delicate fruit into her bag that I realized there had been a hidden significance to the request that I had missed entirely.

"Alisaie..." I began, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't shake it off, I drew her into a hug, thinking only to offer comfort.

However, instead of resisting, Alisaie threw her arms around my neck and hauled me into a deep kiss.

It felt like being struck by lightning. I gasped as her lips moved on mine, parted them reflexively when she licked into her mouth. She pulled herself tightly against me and kissed me like I was the only thing keeping her from drowning, and everything fell away but the feeling of her soft lips and our tongues sliding against one another.

I may have moaned in her mouth.

Which may, had it happened, have emboldened her. Or it may have simply been her own initiative that led to her grab my butt.

With a groan, I broke the kiss and held her at arm's length. "We can't do this," I said sternly, even as the sight of her kiss-swollen lips made me want to kiss her more.

Alisaie took this as well as expected, which is to say not well. "Why not?" she demanded, her expression thunderous.

"You're a child." I'd meant to sound implacable. Unyielding. But my voice came out thin and pleading.

"I'm not a child," she shot back heatedly. "For the love of Thaliak, did you forget the extra year I lived here? I'll be twenty in a few weeks!"

"That doesn't make it right," I growled. My face was on fire, which I can't imagine helped my argument much. "You're so much younger than me."

Alisaie gave ground - it definitely wasn't a retreat - crossed her arms, and glared at me. "Oh and that makes me too impressionable, does it?" she scoffed. "Do you seriously think you could make me do anything I didn't want to do?"

No. I didn't. But I wasn't going to tell her that.

Alisaie's eyes narrowed. "Tell me you don't want me, and I'll drop it," she said in glacial tones.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. There was no point in denying it - she'd know I was lying. She always knew. "Tesleen is waiting," I finally said helplessly.

Alisaie snorted in satisfaction as she shouldered the bag with our purchases, roundly ignoring my attempt to take the bag myself. "We are not done talking about this," she said, jabbing me in the sternum. Hard.

- - -

Alisaie walked in furious silence for the first half hour, and I'd just about resigned myself to days of the silent treatment when she cleared her throat. "Did you know I'm trans?"

I blinked in surprise, but continued scanning around us - the last thing we needed was to get jumped by bandits or coyotes. "No."

She shrugged. "Most people don't. I don't like to talk about it. People get weird, and I've got better things to do than argue about the shape of my genitals." Her voice was less edged than it had been as she glanced over at me, but still I didn't meet her gaze. "Point is, I've put a lot of thought into 'who I am' and 'what I want'. More than most of the Scions combined, I'd wager. Discounting Urianger, of course."

I couldn't help but look surprised as I glanced over at her. She caught me looking and smiled sweetly.

Alisaie one, Champion of Eorzea zero.

- - -

Dinner was... Well. Not exactly pleasant, although there were pleasant moments - the food was delicious, and Alisaie and Tesleen were good company. It was impossible, however, to forget the inn's purpose as the carers circulated to see to their largely silent charges. And yet, these people were determined to seize whatever small scraps of happiness they could find, no matter the bleak fate in store for them.

After dinner, Tesleen went to settle her charges before bed, leaving Alisaie and I alone.

"Elezen don't hit full growth until their mid to late twenties, you know."

I nodded warily but said nothing.

"There's a Hume convention called the Rule of Seven. Have you heard of it?"

"Vaguely."

"A rule of thumb for determining social acceptability of age difference in relationships. It's said that you shouldn't be with someone who is less than half your age plus seven."

I sighed. "Okay. Where are you going with this?"

"Would you sleep with Thancred?"

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "Not my type. He's pretty enough, but I'm not into men who brood."

Alisaie huffed impatiently. "If he was your type then, would you?"

"I suppose."

"The Rule of Seven says you shouldn't sleep with him, or any of the other Scions for that matter. And yet, I seriously doubt you'd tell Y'shtola she wasn't old enough to know what she wanted if she ever propositioned you." Alisaie pinned me with a sharp look. "Applying the social standards of shorter lived races to Elezen and Viera doesn't make sense, because past a certain point it all becomes arbitrary anyway."

Unable to find fault in her logic, I shifted uncomfortably and said nothing.

"That's what I thought," she said smugly before getting up to help help Tesleen.

I went for a walk to clear my head.

When I returned, one of the carers directed me to an unused bunk. I hung my coat from the end and sat down to pull off my boots, only to be startled by Alisaie appearing out of the gloom with a stack of blankets. "It gets cold at night. You'll want these"

"Thank you," I said stiffly.

She calmly handed me the blankets. "So what's the magic number? Twenty one? Twenty two? Twenty five?"

"It's not about a number," I said wearily. "It's about experience. Or lack of it, in your case." The last came out more sharply than I'd intended, and Alisaie pursed her lips in displeasure.

She leaned forward, arms crossed. "I've known you a long time, Warrior of Light, and I'm positive that I've had more sexual partners than you," she said, clearly trying to shock me.

It worked. "What... I mean. How--"

She cut me off with another of her edged smiles. "You only sleep with people you have a strong bond with. I, on the other hand, have sucked so. Many. Dicks." She paused for emphasis, fluttered her eyelashes at me, and slowly licked her lips. "And I'm very good at it."

Trying not to think of Alisaie's pretty mouth wrapped around my cock was like not thinking about a pink elephant - utterly impossible once the image had been conjured. I held myself utterly still, trying not to react to the dizzying rush of arousal I felt as my pants suddenly grew far too tight. Unfortunately, my lack of rebuttal only gave her room to press her advantage.

Alisaie held my gaze as she raised a finger to her lips and delicately circled the tip with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth with a soft slurping noise.

Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods.

My face was on fire. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything but the fantasy of blue eyes on mine as my cock sunk into the wet heat of her mouth.

Alisaie slowly withdrew her finger, then pointedly looked down at the ridge of my erection, which was starkly visible through the pristine white pants I loved wearing with my Red Mage's coat. "Hmm."

Point made, she left me alone for the rest of the night.

- - -

The following morning, Halric escaped.

Tesleen looked stricken when she found out. True, he had so little time left before his condition rendered mercy a necessity, lest he transform and continue the cycle that spawned new sin eaters. And yet, he was a child who deserved to be more than the infection gnawing at his soul, and who deserved a more gentle death than vanishing down the maw of a wild beast, or having what little of him remained consumed by an eater.

Alisaie and I paused only long enough to arm ourselves before joining Tesleen in the search. I went North and East, Alisaie North and West, and Tesleen took the promontory to the South.

Tesleen found him first.

Her cry of fury rang out over the dunes, and I scrambled as fast as I could toward the sound, cursing at the difficulty of running on sand. I crested a rise, made eye contact with Alisaie as she rounded a towering rock formation, and we both arrived just in time to watch the horrible scene unfold without any ability to stop it.

Tesleen had faced off against an enormous eater - a stern, imposing angel in alabaster armor - despite being clearly overmatched. She interposed herself between the creature and Halric as the eater's sword came down, managing to knock the blade aside, but wasn't able to parry the riposte that impaled her.

Alisaie and I stood frozen in horror as the color immediately began to seep from her face like wet paint being washed from a canvas as Tesleen rapidly transformed from a bright, compassionate young woman into a white, winged horror.

The eater lingered to watch its handiwork from a safe height, somehow remaining aloft despite the wing that Tesleen had sliced off, then flew off once the transformation was complete.

Tesleen...

The eater that had once been Tesleen lingered. Horrible, human-sounding noises emerged from its mouth. And then it said Alisaie's name. With a strangled cry, Alisaie darted forward before I could stop her, but Not-Tesleen was already aloft and following after her maker.

Halric was eerily, utterly silent as he watched the retreating eaters.

Alisaie - that brave, fierce woman who abhorred making any show of emotion - collapsed to her knees and wept.

Woodenly, I went to my knees beside her to offer my shoulder. She clung to me, sobbed for half a minute, then stood and mastered herself with grim determination. "We have to get Halric back," she rasped. " We... we have to tell the others."

I nodded, and Alisaie gently took Halric's hand and led him back toward Journey's Head.

I followed mutely behind, sword at the ready, and ached for her suffering, which I realized was a twin to my own. When faced with the evils of the world, we loved too hard, felt too deeply, and subsumed the pain of inevitable loss into helping people.

I wished she had let me hold her longer.

- - -

Alisaie was withdrawn with grief as we started our journey back to the Crystarium. The only sign of spirit she showed were the furious glares she gave me when I attempted to offer comfort.

As we passed the rest of our journey in silence, I couldn't help but miss her attempts at seduction.

Not that I had changed my mind.

- - -

EULMORE

Alisaie sent me to fetch her brother by myself, claiming that she had business to attend to in the Crystarium. So I went alone, hoping that she would find the space she needed to grieve while I was gone. It was good to see Alphinaud alive and well after so many months of worrying, but if I was being honest with myself, his presence only made me feel Alisaie's absence more keenly.

After far too much effort, we finally won our admission to the so-called Final City by successfully convincing a noble couple that Alphinaud was the painter they needed to immortalize their love for the occasion of their anniversary. As I spent most of that first day roaming the city and talking to its inhabitants, I once more wished that Alisaie were with me - keeping her from punching nobles would have made it easier for me not to punch them myself.

That evening I discovered that even a lowly "painter's assistant" rated a private chamber with a bed large enough to sleep five comfortably. Given a choice, I would have taken the austerity of Journey's Head and the pleasure of good company over being subjected to such ludicrous opulence in solitude.

My thoughts inevitably returned to Alisaie as I tried to settle myself for sleep, which summoned the memory of her bragging about her prowess at sucking dicks. My cock slowly stiffened as my traitorous brain replayed the memory of Alisaie suggestively sucking her finger at me over and over again. Finally, knowing that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I'd gotten myself off, I sighed, sat up, and retrieved a vial of lamp oil from my bag. I poured some out onto my hand, before pulling up my nightgown and taking myself in hand.

Since thinking about Alisaie would have been all but admitting defeat, I summoned the thought of Aymeric instead, and the quickie we'd had for old times' sake in his office the last time I'd visited. I held the image of him firmly in mind as I started to stroke myself slowly, forcing myself to crowd out my desire for Alisaie with the memory of Aymeric.

His mouth had been firm and insistent on mine as we'd kissed, kisses that had quickly gone from tender to frenetic. We'd torn each other's clothes off in a frenzy of urgency, and I'd taken him over his desk.

My breathing quickened and my strokes grew faster as I forced myself to recall the encounter in vivid detail. The way he had wriggled impatiently against me as I worked him open with my fingers. The gasp he'd made as I slowly sunk my cock into him. The arch of his back, and his low moan when he'd taken me fully. The demands of his schedule had been too great for seduction or subtlety, but Aymeric had been so needy, so desperate to be fucked that neither of us had minded. I'd gripped his hips tight enough to leave bruises, bruises I knew he'd relish, and he'd thrust back to meet me as I pounded into him.

Gods dammit all, I hadn't gotten quite enough oil.

Impatiently, I poured more onto my hand, getting more than I intended, and resumed my stroking. I tried to remember how it had felt as he'd writhed and moaned underneath me, but the overly-slick sensation of too much oil brought with it the image of a wet mouth engulfing me. My thumb became a tongue flicking across the head of my cock, my tightening grip the pressure of obscene sucking.

I couldn't hold back my release. With my last fragment of will, I told myself that it was black hair, not white, that I pictured falling over ice-blue eyes that looked at me with smug satisfaction.

- - -

LAKELAND

Our business in Eulmore was concluded abruptly and unpleasantly with our forced precipitous departure from the city. And, as is the way of things, our reunion with Alisaie and the Exarch was followed by a series of emergencies too urgent to ignore, culminating with the sin eater attack on Holminster Switch.

It seemed only right that Alisaie was at my side as we rushed to save those we could from the eaters as they swarmed through the village. Tesleen was there, one of many eaters who fell beneath our blades, but Alisaie didn't falter for a moment.

Gods, I was proud of her.

We pressed on, and when the time came I plunged my sword into the Lightwarden's chest, absorbing the light-aspected aether that erupted from it with my Blessing of Light.

And then it was over.

Alisaie had turned away from the others, her shoulders shaking with tears she wouldn't allow anyone to see. I knew I should stay away, that I was too tired and too heart-sore to continue keeping her at arm's length. But given a choice between heartlessness and foolishness, I'll choose foolishness every time.

Her face tipped up toward mine as I folded her into my arms. "Just now, you let me fight at your side and risk my very soul to help you save two worlds. How is it that that's okay, but having sex with me isn't?"

I shook my head and smiled sadly. "You know I don't have an answer to that."

"I've thought long and hard about who I am and what I want," she said, somehow tender and fierce and entreating all at the same time. "My opinions are grounded in a lot of life experience, more than most people get in a lifetime, and I am not easily influenced. And I know that you want me." She paused to wipe away the tears she hadn't been able to stop from spilling over. "And I'm very sad about my friend, so stop being stupid and just kiss me already."

I swallowed, feeling as if I was stepping off the edge of a precipice too high to see what awaited below. "We... I can't make promises."

"I'm not asking for love eternal and a white picket fence. I know that's not who you are, just as it's not who I am. All I'm asking for is right here. Right now. Tomorrow can take care of itself."

"Then I yield to your superior logic," I murmured as I bent to meet her lips.

She tangled her fingers through my hair as she kissed me with unexpected gentleness, and somehow I was the one who melted into her arms.

It was a relief, then, when I surfaced for air and saw her looking as stunned as I felt. That is, until she licked her lips and smiled up at me through half-lidded eyes. "Does that mean I can finally suck your dick?"

"I don't see how I could stop you," I said with a resigned sigh, doing my best to ignore my cock's enthusiastic endorsement of the notion.

"If you're going to be like that, then I don't think I want to after all," Alisaie snapped.

"You're right," I said quickly with a grimace. "That was ungracious of me."

Alisaie's expression shifted from annoyed to calculating. "You do want it then?" she purred, palming the front of my trousers, smirking in triumph when I didn't quite stifle a moan.

Mortified, I looked around for Alphinaud and was glad to see that he was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Lyna and the Exarch. "Yes. Not now, obviously. But yes."

"Of course, but." She smiled sweetly and patted my cheek. "You'll need to say please."

I gently but firmly disengaged, putting several feet between us, and buttoned my heavy Red Mage's coat to hide my now considerable erection. "You, madame. Are a menace," I muttered darkly.

Alisaie winked as she turned to join the others. "Only because you like it."