eightlazylegs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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loligiary2022-08-06 03:27 pm
eightlazylegs) wrote in loligiary2022-08-06 03:27 pm
FFXIV Misc. Posts
For Eithyrs related threading.
Nero's mouth is currently used for whining and panting, become a bitch in heat for the thick cock that he is getting with absolutely no mercy, love or tenderness. (It's not that he doesn't want those things, too; he does. He simply knows better than to ask for the things he can't have where Garlond is concerned.)
When he finally comes it's with a broken sob of Cid!, eyelashes fringed with tears as he shoots against Cid's sheets, hiding his face against the mattress as goes through the aftershocks with Cid still moving inside him.
When he finally comes it's with a broken sob of Cid!, eyelashes fringed with tears as he shoots against Cid's sheets, hiding his face against the mattress as goes through the aftershocks with Cid still moving inside him.
(Ask Cid if he does this for anyone else. Ask Cid if anyone else can just take the brakes off his common sense like Nero does. Ask Cid if this isn't the only mercy Cid thinks either of them will accept.)
Cid finishes inside him, back pressed to his chest as he bends over Nero. His beard scrapes against Nero's shoulder as he leaves feeble kisses against his neck
Cid finishes inside him, back pressed to his chest as he bends over Nero. His beard scrapes against Nero's shoulder as he leaves feeble kisses against his neck
The tiny sparks of pain honestly just made it hotter, if Estinien's going to be honest here. He slowly seems to come back to himself, letting Gaius's legs down - the wisps of red around him finally dissipating into the dim air of the inn room.
(Nero is too much of a coward to ask.)
Wheezing for air after he's been fucked legless, Nero let lets out a soft, pining whine as he feels the scratch of the beard and the soft warmth of Cid's kisses among it. His eyes open, briefly, still wet and then close.
"S'beard... good choice," he slurs, because so far that's the only words he can get out. He is sweaty, sticky, filthy, debauched here in his employer's bed, still trembling. He has no idea when he'll be able to get his legs back under him, but he does back one handed, to touch Cid's white hair, card his fingers through it with a tenderness he never otherwise will show.
Wheezing for air after he's been fucked legless, Nero let lets out a soft, pining whine as he feels the scratch of the beard and the soft warmth of Cid's kisses among it. His eyes open, briefly, still wet and then close.
"S'beard... good choice," he slurs, because so far that's the only words he can get out. He is sweaty, sticky, filthy, debauched here in his employer's bed, still trembling. He has no idea when he'll be able to get his legs back under him, but he does back one handed, to touch Cid's white hair, card his fingers through it with a tenderness he never otherwise will show.
Gaius melts into the mattress; he's a puddle of man, turn weak as his limbs trembled and he had to regain control of his breathing. It takes a time, where he just lays in contact with Estinien, seeking his heat, as he comes down from that blazing high.
"If you'd-- done that on the road and not the bed-- pretty sure you'd've fractured my pelvis," he says, once he comes around. He reaches up to flick the wetness from his eye lashes. "Was it to your liking, then? Your want?"
Do you give yourself an A in sex, Estinien?
"If you'd-- done that on the road and not the bed-- pretty sure you'd've fractured my pelvis," he says, once he comes around. He reaches up to flick the wetness from his eye lashes. "Was it to your liking, then? Your want?"
Do you give yourself an A in sex, Estinien?
Estinien lays atop him, sticky and sweaty. "If you...judged it as such," he mutters, feeling the little aches and bruises as the adrenaline slips away.
"Estinien, I am not laying here boneless from the hips down because I didn't enjoy myself." This -- sticky, sweaty, idiot man. Gaius trailed fingers over the sharp plane of Estinien's shoulders, and then thinks to ask: "...were you channeling your aether, during that? I thought it a trick of the light, or my own mind being so around the bed with the feel of you-- but...did you?"
It's only here, in the post-orgasm haze when his barriers are fully lowered, that Cid finds the tenderness he's too afraid to show Nero any other time. His fingers smooth down the man's bony shoulders, lips press to the base of his neck. "Even with the scratchiness?" he asks, and there's soft fondness in his voice. "God, you--you look good like this."
Fucked out and peaceful.
Fucked out and peaceful.
"Perhaps---yes, I think so." Estinien's still staring at him like he's a revelation, a figure worthy of worship and awe. Like he's helpless before the face of this man in orgasm. "The lingering power of the eye, and the blood, it--it does unusual things sometimes. It is not dangerous, I would pay it no mind." Sometimes he forgets it's not normal to live this way, a piece of you always belonging to something else.
"I was not paying attention, regardless. You are...it is easy to be distracted by you." Gaius has none of the Ishgardian physical virtues - no sharp cheekbones, sleek ears, delicate bone structure. Estinien has never craved these things anyway.
"I was not paying attention, regardless. You are...it is easy to be distracted by you." Gaius has none of the Ishgardian physical virtues - no sharp cheekbones, sleek ears, delicate bone structure. Estinien has never craved these things anyway.
"S'not scratchy. All your hair is soft," Nero says, shifting again to get himself somewhat mobile -- but only to press into Cid's touch like a cat who hasn't remembered it can scratch yet. Maybe in time he'll remember his fangs, but if the bliss lingers he might get horny again before he gets too conscious.
He sighs softly, drowsy with contentment. "Should fuck me more often. Then you can see me like this more."
He sighs softly, drowsy with contentment. "Should fuck me more often. Then you can see me like this more."
Instead he has a solid slab of muscle, a man with a jawline to die for and a straight, sharp nose. (His cheekbones are still quite fine.) But he is not delicate. Not like that. He has his slightly pearlescent Third Eye, but thats the only thing of an odd sort of beauty to him.
Gaius realizes, he says, that this is so dangerous to them; that feelings crop up and that there are terrible costs they must pay to complete their missions. But it does not stop him from rewarding Estinien's tenderness with a slow kiss, taking the time to savor the taste of the dragoon's mouth. If there are feelings, so be it. Gaius has had them, and had set them aside in the name of his duty more times than he can count. He can do so again.
"It was barely glimpsed," Gaius assures him between kisses. "To focus about anything except you was difficult at best."
Gaius realizes, he says, that this is so dangerous to them; that feelings crop up and that there are terrible costs they must pay to complete their missions. But it does not stop him from rewarding Estinien's tenderness with a slow kiss, taking the time to savor the taste of the dragoon's mouth. If there are feelings, so be it. Gaius has had them, and had set them aside in the name of his duty more times than he can count. He can do so again.
"It was barely glimpsed," Gaius assures him between kisses. "To focus about anything except you was difficult at best."
Estinien has them but can barely recognize them, it has been so long with every waking thought devoted to pushing back the vengeful roaring of both his own soul and Nidhogg's. He knows he wants this man, but he can't pinpoint on why.
"Pay it no mind," he says, stroking his fingers down Gaius's face. How wonderful, to see him fully and properly in the light. So many beautiful scars - Estinien feels as mangled as Gaius looks, and he finds that symmetry pleasing. "It will not harm you."
"Pay it no mind," he says, stroking his fingers down Gaius's face. How wonderful, to see him fully and properly in the light. So many beautiful scars - Estinien feels as mangled as Gaius looks, and he finds that symmetry pleasing. "It will not harm you."
Oh. Oh, no, he shouldn't say things like that. It makes Cid wrap around him, like if he doesn't cling Nero will escape from him entirely. "If I have to," he says, reluctantly tender.
"Oh no," Nero mumbles, wriggling in his grip, "you'll have to get laid more regularly. What a trial for the great Cid Garlond, getting his ashes hauled on a regular basis..."
Later he'll feel stupid for this. Right now he's in subspace, delirious on the contact with his beloved rival, the center of his universe, the warmth and touch of him. "What could possibly be worse?"
Later he'll feel stupid for this. Right now he's in subspace, delirious on the contact with his beloved rival, the center of his universe, the warmth and touch of him. "What could possibly be worse?"
"I trust you," Gaius says with completely sincerity. He knows that his man is also part a beast, that fell blood runs in his veins, that his body was taken and ravaged by the great wyrm Nidhogg...
But the man in his arms, he trusts that man. Trust can be deadly, but he feels safe in giving it to him. Perhaps this is the most dangerous -- feeling safe anywhere can be death for a soldier.
But the man in his arms, he trusts that man. Trust can be deadly, but he feels safe in giving it to him. Perhaps this is the most dangerous -- feeling safe anywhere can be death for a soldier.
The words seem to make Estinien uncomfortable, but he permits them to be said without protest. No one should trust him, in his opinion. He's not...safe. Not part of the society he fought to protect and not part of the one outside it either. It was why he left Ishgard, left Eorzea entirely...
But such thoughts draw him out of Gaius's arms and he'd like to stay there as long as possible. "You mentioned bathing?" he said abruptly, trying to get Gaius to stop focusing on what about him might be worth wanting.
Cid's first impulse is to throw out some backhanded insult, like "Well, it's a trial when it's with you". But he can't. Not when Nero says it so softly, when he lays there all vulnerable like a crab out of its shell. Instead Cid rolls him over and runs a hand down his sweat-sticky chest to his belly, and just stares at him quietly. "Thank you" slips from his lips unbidden.
Growing slightly more sober as time ticks by and the afterglow haze begins to dim, even Nero becomes aware of this tenuous, ephemeral moment. It is a soap bubble, just waiting for something to piece it abruptly or for air tension to simply win out and pop of it's own accord.
Being greedy, he takes advantage-- throwing his arms around Cid's neck to pull him in for soft, slow kisses. Let him get these last things before their spell breaks, let him luxuriate in these moments where Cid isn't frustrated with him, where he bolts before their feelings become a problem.
Being greedy, he takes advantage-- throwing his arms around Cid's neck to pull him in for soft, slow kisses. Let him get these last things before their spell breaks, let him luxuriate in these moments where Cid isn't frustrated with him, where he bolts before their feelings become a problem.
Cid returns the kisses, hands in his hair, brushing way sticky strands and the remains of tears. If they just don't speak, maybe they can stay like this - stay as friends and lovers, not as rivals, or whatever nasty construct Nero clearly thinks they are.
It occurs to him that for all that Nero treats them as competitors the man's never directly moved against him, not since Praetorium. He's found reasons to be near him, bickering all the while, but never..challenged him. Cid chews his lip, musing on what that could mean.
Is it better if he...should Cid break the connection? Let Nero live his own life?
It's as if Nero senses that concern, and kisses all the more vigorously for it, trying to get him back into the now.
"Garlond... I can tell when you're wrapping yourself up in your big stupid brain," he mumbles between them. "Come back. It's nicer here."
"Garlond... I can tell when you're wrapping yourself up in your big stupid brain," he mumbles between them. "Come back. It's nicer here."
"Yes," Gaius says, still limp and languid in the bed. "I did. The place has hot running water, so all you need to do is to go to the watercloset off the side there, and see the spigot above the tub -- turn it so the water begins to run. But don't turn it all the way-- otherwise we'll get nothing but hot water and no cool to temper it, and it'll be burning hot if we get in. Ishgard has indoor plumbing, yes? So like that."
At least, he knows they have fountains and fonts and things like that-- so they must have running water, and knowing their chill country, boilers as well.
At least, he knows they have fountains and fonts and things like that-- so they must have running water, and knowing their chill country, boilers as well.
"I thought you liked my big throbbing turgid brain." Bless him and those kisses, grounding him back in his skin. Cid can't keep his hands from moving, as if contact with Nero's skin can remind him that he's still here. That he's warm and real. That this isn't fantasy.
"Oh, I do. It's one of your more admirable qualities," throwing his head back to bare his throat - whether in submission or backing his throat for more kissed, who can say. "S'a very good brain. But I like it when i short circuit it, too."
Like it when it descends into frenzied need, when they can't pretend anymore, and fuck like horny teenagers.
Like it when it descends into frenzied need, when they can't pretend anymore, and fuck like horny teenagers.
"We do, I've used them before. Aymeric's estate has them." Estinien's rather a bit of an outlier - much of Ishgard has indoor plumbing and heating, aside the poor wretches down in the Brume, but Estinien...Estinien barely even owns property outside of that which he carries. Didn't even expect to retire. This bold new world where his endless quest is ended is still very strange to him.
So yes, he does need to be reminded that baths are a thing you do more than once a month. Reluctantly and still very naked he slips out of the bed and goes to dutifully turn the water on. "Now what?" he calls back over the sound of running water.
Gaius, not as young as he used to, stretches and enjoys the pleasant sort of soreness that comes with a good lay. He rests there, sticky and messy, yes, but content.
"Wait until the tub's reached at lesat half full -- don't over fill, once we get in the water'll rise much higher."
"Wait until the tub's reached at lesat half full -- don't over fill, once we get in the water'll rise much higher."
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