Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You don't have to answer the wood when it calls, krakki, but it will still call. There's no hiding from that."

Alma's words echoed in his mind, somewhere on the edge of dreaming. Not quite asleep anymore - but not entirely awake, either. 

It had been a warm few days - pleasant enough out that he'd decided to forgo an inn room, instead opting to spend a few nights camping out under the stars. A good idea, he'd reckon - it had been lovely out, and the freedom to simply be however he wished without worry of bothering others (or more likely, others bothering him) was refreshing.

That is, until he'd felt it.

The call.

It was subtle, at first. Crept up on him with the dawn, rising sun just barely starting to cast streaks through the canopy. A gentle breeze swept through the trees with it, rustling his shirt - his skin crawled with the feeling of it, sensitive and uncomfortable. Though the early morning should have been brisk, if not out-right chilly, he felt unpleasantly warm all over, as though he'd been basking under a mid-day sun for hours.

And beyond it all, a distant but nagging need had settled low in his gut. 

Wanting for something.

Had he not been in this situation before, he'd have wondered as to what.

Minasha sighed as he sat up, stretching his arms over his head as he weighed his options - tried to calculate how much time he had. 

He'd scarcely been of age 3 years when the call first hit him, and though he'd never admit it, it had scared him. He'd gone through the lectures just the same as the other kits, way back when, but they were sparse at best - brusque and over-simplified. When the time came, in his panic, he'd taken his leave of his mentor, isolating himself for a week.

And Gods, was it miserable. 

Thankfully, the second time it happened, years later, Alma caught it first. 

She'd ferried him back to Dalmasca, where he'd dealt with it the traditional way. Homecoming, they'd called it - though the village he'd been dumped in wasn't his, thank the Twelve. He did what he needed to do without fuss or fanfare, and once he was done, re-joined Alma at the border. The experience was... 'alright', he would say. At the very least, it wasn't so desperately miserable. 

Things were different, now.

It had been over 5 years, since those days. His mentor was gone, now, but he wasn't alone.

Rather the opposite, in fact. 

For the first time in his life, he was 'taken'. Even if the opportunity to travel back to Golmore presented itself, he found he rather didn't want to go - not when there was a familiar and much more appealing option, fairly close by.

Decision seemingly made, he stood, grabbing his pack as he headed out. 

He could only hope he would still be at least a little lucid, by the time he made it to their door.

┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈

Nira'sae Mian was elbow deep in Pave's currently-unmounted saddlebag, when they heard the familiar rapping at their front door. They'd been on a bit of a gathering-spree again, recently - and their bag was in a state, to put it lightly. Setting it to one side, as if that would do anything to remedy the mess their kitchen table had become, they brushed themself off and headed for the door.

At first, they couldn't tell anything was amiss. 

Minasha counted that as a good thing. Meant he probably wasn't too far gone yet.

Yet.

Still, he could feel that uncomfortable heat pulsing through his system. And now that he was here, and they were in sight... 

Their smile was all warmth and honey; that beautiful, melodic voice lilting like a sirensong as they asked how he was - what had brought him here so early. They were wearing the same navy tank and black trousers he was used to seeing them in when they were 'off the clock', but watching them make their way back to the kitchen, he found a renewed appreciation for the combo. The soft, dark fabric of the top hugged their slim waist and showed off the subtle tone of their bared arms - the slight sway of their hips caught and kept his attention like yarn to a coeurl. 

In short, so much as being in the same room as them was doing a number on his already-waning self-control.

"Minasha? Are you quite well..?"

They tilted their head, long legs crossed at the ankle where they'd been leaning against the counter. Their trousers hung low on their hips - they weren't wearing a belt today - and the slip of skin it revealed was almost painfully distracting.

His lack of an answer, or perhaps the strange look on his face, bid them move - approaching him with that soft, caring demeanor that usually either served to piss him off or calm him down. This morning, it did neither.

Their hand reaching out to cup his cheek proved to be the tipping point.

"M-mina--" they started, broken off into a startled yelp as he swerved on them, shoving them bodily against the counter.

Once he was on them, that simmering heat beneath his skin grew to a raging inferno. There was little room for thought or consideration - only them. They stiffened for a moment when his mouth came crashing down upon theirs, but only a moment, quickly melting against his affections just like he knew they would. They reacted in kind, lips moving with his in a tantalizing dance, hands clinging to the front of his shirt - and it was everything. He reveled in it, and yet... it wasn't enough. He wanted to feel them against his skin instead - yearned for the way their nails felt digging into his back - the way they marked him when they were lost to their own pleasure. 

Greedy for more of this - more of them - his hands slipped beneath their top, palming the lithe tension of their abs, fingers trailing the ridges of their scars. It was a double edged sword. The sweet, muffled noises he drew from them sent him to new heights of arousal, already rock-hard in his breeches. On the other hand, now thoroughly distracted by his wandering hands, they found themself unable to keep up with the ferocity of his kiss. They never could multitask under this kind of attention.

Today it was endearing and frustrating in equal measure.

He almost surprised himself, when they broke the kiss and he growled in response. Not content to allow them even a moment's reprieve, he nosed at their jaw - the only warning they got before he bared down upon their neck, all teeth and tongue and desperation. He could feel the whine catch in their throat, and the things it did to him... he wanted to breath them in - devour them whole. He didn't know if he could wait any longer. 

Pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against theirs, he grabbed them by the hips - pressed himself hard against them, made sure they could feel every ilm of his arousal. They whined again - music to his ears. 

"Need you." he ground out, voice rough. The effort it took to hold back grew with every passing second. 

Luckily, they didn't intend to leave him waiting. 

"Okay." they nodded, hushed and breathy, watching him through long lashes.

Would that he could appreciate the beauty of their quiet desperation. 

Beyond eager, now, he made to unfasten their trousers - found his hands shook too much with need. It wouldn't do. Snarling at the inconvenience, he grabbed the hem of them and yanked them down, underwear and all. Their face scrunched as they flinched - the harsh motion catching their tail unpleasantly.

He placed a hasty kiss against their now exposed sex, licking into them once, then again, unable to resist the temptation to taste - they all but buckled over him, hands flying to cover their mouth and trap the pitiful noise they made. It was the closest thing to an apology they would get. 

But it wasn't what he needed right now.

On any other day, he would take his time with them - methodically, meticulously take them apart until they were putty in his hands.

Today was not one of those days.

He lifted them - just enough for them to perch on the edge of the counter. Made quick work of his own trappings, belt undone and pants pulled down just enough to release his length, swollen and aching by now. Even the clasp of his own hand as he pushed their legs apart, settling between, felt like it might undo him. They made a soft, whimpering noise when he pressed against them - a shudder rolling through them both as he coated himself with their slick. The slide of it was almost bliss with how wet they were already. But the fire in him demanded more, and he was in no mind to argue.

He lined himself up, and in a single, brutally swift motion, sheathed himself fully. 

Their answering cry was muffled against their own hand, but he found he couldn't care less. The tight heat of them was perfect - it was everything he needed, pleasure blinding him as he began to move. He leaned over them, forcing them further down against the counter - propped up on their elbows - as he pulled out, before slamming roughly back in. 

The pace he set was fierce to match, leaving them no room to think or even breath. It was all they could do to endure his onslaught, losing themself in it, moans catching in their throat with every sharp thrust of his hips.

Embarrassingly, it didn't take them very long to come apart.

(Which they would argue is fair, given their lovers' usual preference of edging them until sun-up, reducing them to a uniquely desperate mess.)

Strung out on that tense, flame-hot need all morning as he was, he was quick to follow them. His thrusts reached a fever pitch as he bit down hard on their neck with a groan, leaving a mark that would last all week if they didn't tend to it (and he knew they wouldn't). They whined as he finished inside them, the pitch of it lifting along with their sensitivity, shudders overtaking them.

Finally, a measure of clarity parted the throes of heat, as he panted into their shoulder. The relief he felt was palpable. But he knew it wasn't over yet, nor would it be any time soon. His first time, miserable and untended, had lasted almost a week. The second, handled in the traditional way, lasted three days. Like it or not, he was in it for the long haul. 

Fortunately, his love had experience taking everything he could throw at them and then some. He chuckled low at the thought, the air of it tickling their neck, eliciting the softest 'mm?'

He breathed them in a moment longer, their contented hum at the feel of him soothing. Alas, it was time to move. He pulled out of them slowly, not wanting to get too riled up again too fast - woefully un-helped by the way they squirmed, one of their legs hooked around the back of his knee. He tsked at them - giving their hip a gentle squeeze before letting them go. But he didn't go far - kept them there on the counter as he dealt with his boots and trousers, roughly kicking the articles off and out of the way. 

They were sitting up by the time he finished, watching him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. A flush sat high on their cheeks and yet lower, dusting their shoulders a delicate pink. 

Gods, they were beautiful, he thought. He wanted more of them - felt that nagging, firey need creeping back into his system, slow but certain. Hooking his hands beneath their thighs, he pulled them close, pleased by the instinctive way they wrapped their arms around his shoulders as he lifted them. Narrowly avoiding their pants where they'd been haphazardly discarded, he carried them the short distance up to the loft, all but throwing them onto the bed. If they hadn't still been basking in that fuzzy afterglow, they might have complained about it - instead, they simply stretched out, content and thoroughly fucked. 

Would that they had any idea what was to come.

Only when his weight dipped the mattress did they deign to look up - watching his movements as he shrugged off his shirt, draping it over the nightstand. They would fluster, he knew, if he happened to mention how quickly distracted they were by the tan expanse of his torso - and the thought did tempt him. As their eyes wandered lower still, however, noticing his still very-much present erection, he couldn't bring himself to. He could practically see the gears turning, surprise bleeding into confusion bleeding into a mild amount of concern - and that wouldn't do. 

As he settled on his knees before them, he hooked a finger under the hem of their tank top. 

"Off."  

Only one word, but still, the way their pupils dilated just so at the command didn't go unnoticed. They hurriedly pulled the thing up and over their head. He took it from them, tossing it Gods' only knows where as they looked on, mounting desire plain in the focus of their eyes and the heady way they licked their bottom lip and swallowed. 

So recently after coming, too. At least he had an excuse. 

It would be cruel to tease them about how readily they succumbed to need, and ordinarily, he had no issues being cruel - but the aching arousal hanging between them reminded him that there were much, much better things he could be doing with his time right now. 

Hands on their hips, he re-arranged them slightly - pulled them a little closer, legs draped over his thighs as he lined himself up again. They opened their mouth to speak, only to be cut off, lips forming a beautiful, soundless 'oh' as he pushed into them. Slower this time, mind not so entirely engulfed by the flames of heat - he savored every ilm as their back arched fully off the bed. Though their treacherous hand was again quick to cover it, he just barely caught the corner of their mouth quirk up in a tell-tale smile.

Needy little creature, he thought, affection winning out over lust even as he bottomed out. An impressive feat against the biological urge tearing through him. He couldn't hold off for long, though. Feeling them clench and shift around him threatened to drive him to madness if he didn't get more - everything they could give him and then more still. A hand left their hip to cover them where they were joined, thumb beginning to rub purposeful circles over their clit, and they mewled, squirming as they threw their head back. The pace he set was languid at first, enjoying the view as he watched them writhe on his cock, but the battle of wills was one he was quickly losing, rhythm steadily increasing until he was lost to it. 

They came ahead of him again, hopeless to do anything else against his relentless attention and the roll of his hips. He was close - ready to follow them over that precipice - just a little more - 

He pressed roughly with his thumb, wringing a broken cry from them - oversensitive, barely coming down from their own high - and that pushed him the rest of the way, spilling inside them a second time as he hunched over them. 

For a time, things were quiet - naught but the sounds of their panting filling the room. But still, the heat beneath his skin had not entirely subsided. 

His cock twitched, still fully seated inside them, and their panicked little whimper made him want to laugh. 

They looked up at him, incredulous, "A-already..?"  

He smirked back at them, and finally, finally they seemed to realize they were in for it. Their eyes widened, drawing in a sharp breath as he ran his hands up the back of their thighs, before grabbing the backs of their knees and leaning forward, and further forward still, until his nose brushed theirs and they were bent practically in half. 

"M-mina..."  

A plea, or a warning, or something else entirely - he didn't care. Lucid enough to find renewed joy in breaking them, not quite enough to have the patience to draw it out, he found he was left in this feral middle-space, grinning as he dragged himself out of them until just the tip remained. They gasped at the feeling, already overstimulated - and when he snapped his hips roughly down into them, their voice broke around their cry. Folded like this, he could get so much deeper - and he reveled in it, fucking into them with renewed vigor. Each brutal thrust of his hips was blinding, perfect, everything he needed, and he lost himself in it, chasing after his high. 

They could only hope they were still sane by the time he finished.

He couldn't be sure how long it took - though he was sure they'd come undone again at least once, somewhere amidst his mindless, animalistic assault. They were destroyed, chest heaving beneath him, eyes closed and mouth agape. If it wasn't for the broken way they whimpered when he finally pulled out, he wouldn't be sure they were awake at all.

His smile was warm, then, quiet and unseen as he brushed their hair from their face. 

The worst of the feeling had subsided, for now - heat no longer crawling beneath his skin like a poorly contained forest fire. He could still feel it distantly, simmering a ways away, but for now, he was free. Though he wasn't usually the responsible one, he'd left Nira'sae little ability to do... well, much of anything, so he got to work. He took a quick shower - just enough to get the worst of the sweat, slick, and Gods only know what else off his skin. Grabbed a wet rag while he was in there, stopping off in the kitchen to get a glass of water before making his way back upstairs.

When he set about cleaning them, they whined in protest - making weak attempts to squirm away from his ministrations. He chuckled, quietly shushing them as he wiped them down.

"You should rest." 

"Rest...? I-it's still morning." 

Even curling beneath the sheets, eyes closed and struggling to suppress a yawn, they argued. Idiot.

He slipped under the sheets behind them, pulling them flush against his chest. They were so malleable like this - soft and sleepy and his. He was sure they'd let him to anything to them at all, like this. His fingers carded through their hair - a little trick G'raha had taught him - and they melted against him, already beginning to doze. 

"Rest. Trust me. You'll need it."

Softly spoken words fell on sleeping ears, one final kiss pressed against the top of their hair, as they both drifted off into the late morning haze.

Chapter Text

Nira'sae woke to the ticklish sensation of calloused fingertips running feather-light down their side. 

They squirmed, pressing back against the warm body behind them. These were not the mindless wanderings of sleep-addled hands; Minasha had ever been a still sleeper - rarely stirring once he'd dozed. His touches, though soft and seemingly at random, were entirely purposeful - intent to coax a reaction from them, they had no doubt. This was a game they played often.

Covering their mouth with a hand, they willed themself to be quiet and still. Once they admitted defeat, they knew he would not relent, and while they could admit to themself that they wanted that... 

There was a part of them that loved to play along - a competitive streak, usually unseen to all but those who knew them very well. So, they would not give in that easily.

Or so they told themself.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on one's perspective), Minasha was uniquely talented at making them squirm. He knew they were awake now, hand ghosting back up their side and over their ribs - the barest hint of a whimper caught in the palm of their hand. From there, across their chest, not lingering overlong. It was a brief respite, before his fingers started a slow, torturous trail downward. He traced delicate circles below their navel, each lap taking him lower - until he was met with soft, fine fur, and then lower still, as they bucked gently back against him. His cock, rock hard and weeping, pressed against their ass. They could barely suppress their whine at the feel of it.

Instinct bid them lift their leg just so - making themself easier to access, and he took the invitation gladly. With a grin pressed against the side of their neck, his fingers dipped between their folds - and just like that, he'd won. 

They lurched forward, sudden pleasure after so much indirect teasing drawing a moan from them. Their hips rolled back against his again, grinding, and oh, did that set him off.

His hand left them (far too soon), grabbing the back of their leg and lifting, giving himself just enough room to slip his length between pale thighs. The silk of his cock rubbing against them there felt divine, tail pressed between their bodies, leaving their hair on end. Adjusting his grip, he slid against them a few times more, coating himself in their arousal before he found their entrance. He took his time, now - savoured their drawn out whine, until he was sheathed entirely. 

The way he groaned at the relief of finally being inside them again could be felt, rather than heard. It sent shivers down their spine as he started to rock into them - small, easy thrusts at first. For them, it was still all-encompassing - the feel of him against their insides had all of their attention and then some. Until, that is, his second hand joined the fray. They hadn't noticed it, even as the arm he'd been resting on squeezed beneath them, under their side - only when two fingers joined his cock, teasing their clit. They couldn't last long, after that.

He fucked them through their orgasm, and then past it, fingers unrelenting as their moans of pleasure devolved into pleas for mercy, over-stimulated and trembling - only giving in when he came himself, biting down on the tender, bruised flesh of their neck, drawing a cry from them at the intoxicating sparks of pain and pleasure mixed. He held them against him as they came down, plush lips covering the mark he'd made only hours prior.

They gasped reflexively when he pulled out, curling in on themself as they felt him shuffle about behind them. It wasn't long before his hands were grasping their hips, pulling, bidding them move. 

"More...?"

His gaze was intense, lust burning behind his eyes when they met. Though their room was dimly lit, they could still see the way he held himself - tense, chest heaving with a volatile kind of desperation. Their heart felt like it might beat out of their chest at the sight. 

"On your knees." came his quiet command, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers up their spine.

Obedient to a fault, they shifted, rolling onto their front and drawing their knees up underneath them - burying their flushed face into the pillow at the combined feel of his seed and their wetness dripping down their inner thigh. They jumped when his hand came down upon their flank, whimper already blessedly muffled. It was followed by both hands roaming over their ass, up their back - across their shoulders, until one finally threaded into the back of their hair, firm enough to be considered a warning as he leaned over them.

His words, pressed against their spine in kisses, felt like a brand.

"...Hands on the headboard."

Oh. 

Oh no.

Briefly, they considered begging for mercy - but that had never worked out particularly well for them in the past. Gulping down the lump in their throat, they obliged, removing themselves from the safety of their pillow as they gripped the headboard with shaky hands. 

They felt his appreciative hum against the sensitive skin of their now-straightened back, as his hands trekked a slow path back down, blunt nails leaving goosebumps in their wake. He was teasing them, they knew (wasn't he always) - testing their strength of will, now that he had them where he wanted them, even as he held his cock at their entrance, pressing just so. Their hips rocked back, eager, searching for more - desperate in a way he would usually taunt them for. Nira'sae was certain he would draw it out 'til they were needy and begging, just like he liked them.

Which made the abrupt way he thrusted forward, headboard creaking with the sudden movement, that much more impactful.

His name tumbled from their lips like a curse, and when he whispered foreign words back that sounded suspiciously like praise, they lost the ability to think coherently. 

Not that they needed to think at all, with the way he seemed intent on using them.

With a fierce grip on their hips, he pulled out almost all the way - only to slam back in, dragging a cry from them as they held on for dear life. Propped up like this, it was that much easier for him to find the perfect angle, and he used the advantage gladly, making sure they saw stars with every wicked thrust. It was absolute bliss - and absolute torture. Time became this flimsy, disjointed thing, as he chased his high again, and again, God's only knew how many times. Until their muscles hurt, sore with their own releases - or perhaps until the tremble in their limbs became too much, finally falling to the pillow as his motions mercifully slowed. 

If they thought he might relent, well...

They really should know better. 

"That's it, darling..." he cooed, the teasing note to his voice that they were so used to finally making a return, even as his cock yet twitched inside them.

Any words they might've tried to form only came out as a whimper, as far gone as they were - even the gentle way he moved felt like it might set them alight, almost painfully oversensitive. 

"You can give me one more, can't you?"

His hands smoothed over their back, trusting them not to pull away, no matter how far he pushed them. They shook their head against the pillow, flushed and sweaty. Their voice was hoarse and desperate, catching on every slow roll of his hips.

"T-too much-- ah- I can't--"

"Too much?" he cut them off, slowing to a stop, "But darling..."

He leaned over them 'til his lips were at their ear, angle pushing him impossibly deeper - their back arching as he wrapped an arm about their waist, one hand poised over their middle.

"...We both know 'too much' is exactly how you like it."

They knew what was coming. They couldn't even say they were powerless to stop it.

He was right. 

There was naught they loved more than being so thoroughly undone.

They moaned, pillow doing naught to stifle the sound, as they felt the first brush of his aether ghosting over their lower abdomen, before it permeated, sinking deeper, searching for theirs. It was like the gentle lick of a candle's flame - hot wax against air-cool skin. Until he found what he was looking for. He grasped at their aether - around the mere sense of their arousal, and just like that, they were completely overwhelmed. 

Pleasure pitched inside them, rolling through them in hot, unbreakable waves. They scarcely noticed as he started moving again, steady thrusts a gentle tease compared to the fire he'd set within, unseen. They couldn't tell if their broken, sobbing moans made any sort of sense; whether they were begging for mercy - or for more - all of it was lost against the steady rhythm of his hips, and the way his aether coiled around their core.

When at last they came undone, blessedly, everything went dark.

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They were being man-handled again. 

Still in a daze, they blinked - once, and then again. Their head felt like it was stuffed with cotton bolls, and their body ached in a uniquely pleasant way, even as they were gently coaxed upwards. 

"Here." 

A glass of water was pressed into their hands. Minasha held it there, crouched before them, like he didn't trust them not to drop it. 

Given the tremor in their arm as they lifted it, they supposed that was fair. Their throat was remarkably sore, they realized, trying to clear it before taking a single sip. They wanted to roll their eyes when he shook his head, quietly bidding them "finish it", but the softness in his gaze cut straight through them, undermining his stern tone. He was worried.

They hid their endeared smile behind the glass.

"Can you walk?" he asked, when they were done. 

They nodded, and he stepped back - offering an arm to help them stand. He hovered only long enough to be sure the brief wobble in their step wasn't a precursor to falling, before disappearing down the stairs. Hearing the sound of water running in the washroom, they followed. 

He drew them into the shower with him - swatted at their fussy hands, intent to take care of them himself - and though they pouted, they found they couldn't protest. The water was warm as he rinsed the last few hours from their skin, but his body was warmer, pressed sturdy against theirs. When he made it to their hair, deft fingers massaging their scalp and the base of their ears, it was a struggle not to drift off again. He even dried them off gently, bundling them in a soft blue towel before he set about showering himself.

Nira'sae got the distinct impression he felt bad. Perhaps for the lingering soreness at their core, or the bruises forming on their hips. 

Before they could be further endeared by the softness hiding beneath even his sharpest of edges, their stomach growled, lurching unpleasantly. It took them a long moment to realize why - rare as it was that they were actually so hungry, given their nature. Though they loved to eat, the density of their aether alone could keep their body going far longer than what was average or normal. They grabbed his shirt, slipping it on before heading to the kitchen.

They pottered a while, sorting the mess on the kitchen table, taking stock of their cupboards, until the gentle sound of distantly falling water came to a stop.

"Have you eaten today?" they asked, hearing the soft pad of his bare feet approaching, "I can make something."

He'd found his pants, but nothing else, slowly fastening them as he came to join them. 

"Shouldn't I be treating you? After..." 

His eyes roamed, a smug tilt to his head to match his smirk as he lingered on the bruises on their thigh - the bite marks on their neck. 

Heat rose to their cheeks and they pouted, hating how easily they riled for him. 

"...I'd prefer something edible." 

Their snark was rewarded with a chuckle, quiet and breathy, and a hand snaking around their waist as they tried to focus solely on the counter. It was a losing game, especially when he pulled them flush against his side, nosing at the tender brand upon their neck. 'Very funny', he murmured, lips spreading in a grin as they broke, giggling softly, playing at pushing him away even as they basked in the closeness.