Alantin slammed into the cold stone wall with a grunt, an elbow digging almost-painfully into his back.
Something wasn’t quite right about this picture. The sudden aggression was rather unwarranted, to say the least. Alantin had hoped Estinien would be happy to see him but, then again, this was Estinien, after all.
Things were supposed to have been settled. The Dragonsong war was over—even if the resentments that had first spurred it still lingered.
At the very least, Alantin wasn’t aware of anything he could have done to incense Estinien in the last few days. The only thing he could recall was paying his respects to Haurchefant, now that everything was over, and helping Aymeric take stock of the situation.
Both sides had a long way to go. Healing the wounds of a thousand years of war wasn’t going to be easy—not that anyone had expected it would be—but what was important was the fragile hard-fought peace they’d managed to seize. For the first time in many years, Ishgard wasn’t embroiled in a war of its own making.
For the Warrior of Light, it presented a rare opportunity to take a much-deserved moment to breathe. He’d been working hard over the last few weeks and, at least for now, it seemed that there was no world-threatening existential crisis on the horizon.
Alantin, for one, could use the break. He’d grieved the lost, already, and he did not want to dwell on such things for much longer. The best way to honor their memory, and their sacrifice, was to look forward and keep doing as he always did—working to make the world a better place.
At the end of the rather wide meander that his thoughts had taken, Alantin remained as utterly clueless as he had been at the start. Simply put: he hadn’t the faintest idea why it was that he was being pinned against the wall by Estinien.
Alantin would have been lying if he said that he had not fantasized about just such an encounter with Estinien. Today’s visit, however, had nothing to do at all with the secret indulgences Alantin partook in when he had a moment to himself. It was purely innocent.
All Alantin had hoped to do was check in on a friend’s recovery. And, since it was such a good day outside, providing that Estinien was in good condition, he’d have invited him on a walk. After all, Alantin had it on good authority that the dragoon had been rather cooped up in his recovery room for some time.
“For how long will you insist on this mummery, Warrior of Light?” said Estinien, practically growling as he pushed Alantin flat against the wall with his forearm braced against Alantin’s shoulder blades. “I grow full tired of your play-acting the pure and innocent hero.”
“I-I know not what you mean,” Alantin stammered. He flushed. A tinge of pink crept into his cheeks as the warmth of Estinien’s body, pressed against his back, inspired a rather familiar stirring betwixt his legs.
“W-why don’t we talk a-as civilized folk a-and c-clear up whatever m-misunderstanding this might be…” Alantin muttered as he braced himself against the wall in an attempt to push Estinien off. It was to no avail. Estinien did not so much as budge as Alantin tried to get out from under him.
“The time for civility has long since passed,” Estinien murmured. His voice was low and dark, a hint of something dangerous and predatory in his tone.
Estinien leaned in to speak, whispering the words right at the base of Alantin’s horns, making the entire side of his neck tingle. “Surely, you did not think that you could parade yourself around Coerthas like some cheap slattern without consequence,” said Estinien.
“W-what?” said Alantin, stunned not only at the hungry tone of Estinien’s voice but also at the dragoon’s choice of words. He could not help but redden at the insinuation. “I-I have never…”
Alantin flinched at the brush of Estinien’s fingers along his side. “You traipse into my room dressed as you are, as I recover from the corrosive influence of Nidhogg, and still have the audacity to play ignorant?” said Estinien.
A low groan escaped Alantin as he felt Estinien’s fingernails dig into his skin, right on top of his ribs. “Do you take me for a fool, Warrior of Light?
“I have watched you from the moment you sauntered into Coerthas wearing those scraps of leather that barely qualify as clothes. At first, I thought you little more than a carnal gift, dressed as you were, some strange attempt by the alliance to curry favor with our leaders.
“It was rather unsettling to discover that you were, in fact, the Warrior of Light we’d heard so much about. I thought that perhaps your clothes were a statement of some sort, about how you did not fear the biting cold of Coerthas.
“I reassured myself that you would change into something more appropriate soon enough. When that did not transpire I thought that perhaps those influential folk who seemed to flock to you like moths to the flame would counsel you to a wiser course of action.
“Little did I know they would say nothing of it, at all. Rather absurdly, I imagined that you had placed them under some sort of spell, charmed them to somehow ignore the fact that you dressed like a whore.
“’Twas not until later, when we departed for the Churning Mists together, that no such magic was at work.”
Alantin shivered as he felt Estinien’s fingers, calloused and coarse from years of wielding the dragoon’s lance and yet, somehow, still strangely delicate, trace down his bare sides. They lingered at his waist, and, in their wake, they left trails of tingling heat on his skin that felt all the more intense in the cold air of Ishgard.
“I questioned why the Warrior of Light would have dressed so provocatively. I could not imagine that a great and honorable hero would dress like a slut without some hidden purpose.
“I thought, perhaps, that you did so with a mind to unsettle your opponents. After all, a moment’s hesitation on the battlefield is sometimes all that separates the living from the dead.
“Scarce, however, was the occasion on which I did not see you charge blindly into your enemies with little regard for the dangers. It simply made no sense…” Estinien murmured. His lips hovered mere hairsbreadths from the skin on the back of Alantin’s neck.
“W-why did it have to make sense? Did you not, for a moment, consider that this was simply my preferred style of dress?” Alantin muttered.
Estinien chuckled. He rested his forehead on Alantin’s back. “I shall admit, I obsessed over this question for one reason: I found you distracting. Incredibly so. We would be on the battlefield and I would catch sight of you and lose my footing.
“If not for the years of training that have conditioned me to fight while distracted, I would have been hurt. Gravely. I lusted after you. I yearned to touch you. But I did not wish to suffer that bitter humiliation of rejection.”
Alantin shivered. He’d not even considered the effect the way he dressed would have on his allies. He felt bad that he’d almost gotten Estinien injured but, at the same time, he had to admit it was rather affirming to think that his body could distract even a seasoned warrior.
“And so, I watched you closely,” said Estinien, free hand at Alantin’s waist, thumb tracing small circles on his lower back.
“I watched the way you moved—the way you swished your tail and waved your ass… I watched the way you fought, and…”
Alantin’s eyes widened as Estinien’s fingers slipped into the waistband of his leather bikini.
“Well, let us just say that it ought be against the law to inflame passions as such…” Estinien whispered. The sultry tone of his voice sent a chill down the length of Alantin’s spine.
“Would you like to know what it was I realized about the mighty Warrior of Light during our time in the Churning Mists?” said Estinien.
Alantin’s eyes fluttered. He bit back a moan. Estinien’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin where his neck met his shoulder and he could not help but tremble at the sensation. “W-what?” he stammered.
“Far from being a paragon of virtue, the one whom Eorzea hails as a hero is little more than a base creature,” said Estinien, sliding his hand down from Alantin’s waist into the back of his trunks.
Alantin sucked in a sharp breath. He went up on the tips of his toes, pressing up against the wall as Estinien’s finger slipped into the cleft of his ass and brushed against his hole.
“The Warrior of Light wears scraps of leather that excite the mind and titillate the eye, flaunting his body like a common trollop, hoping to attract the attention of a man who would not hesitate to show him his place.”
The moan Alantin had been holding back spilled out.
“I have watched you, and I know that you have been endlessly frustrated by the likes of Aymeric and Haurchefant, attractive men, no doubt, but far too honorable and dense to realize that you desire more than friendship and feeble overtures of romance,” murmured Estinien, pressing a surprisingly-tender kiss to the base of Alantin’s neck.
“But Estinien… Ah, Estinien. He is not such an honorable man,” the dragoon growled. “I ought have bent you over and taken you for mine while we traipsed across the Churning Mists. Alas, other matters demanded my attention—however distracting you were.”
Another moan spilled out of Alantin as Estinien rubbed circles around his entrance. “B-but do I have it now?” he mumbled, almost hopefully.
“So eager,” said Estinien, voice low and rich. “You were made for this, were you not, Warrior of Light? Can you feel how your body responds?
“Little more than a teasing finger and you already arch your back and spread your legs like a good little whore. You would throw yourself on any man with a big cock that could show you where you belong, wouldn’t you?”
“P-please,” Alantin groaned. He could take the teasing no longer. He was painfully hard. His erection, trapped in the tight and unyielding confines of his bikini, pressed against the leather to form a rather obscene bulge.
Estinien chuckled. The sound was rich and dark and almost predatory. It sent a tingle down Alantin’s spine and straight to the tip of his cock.
“Had I not been able to restrain my desires from influencing the wyrm when he overtook me, perhaps your final encounter with Nidhogg would have been different,” said Estinien.
“The war may have ended with you impaled—not on a spear, but the wyrm’s cock—and put on display before the people of Ishgard.”
Alantin moaned. It was so dirty and so wrong and yet it was also, somehow, incredibly hot. Twelve damn Estinien for putting the idea in his mind. He was never going to get it out, now.
“Oh, did you like that?” said Estinien, a hint of playful disgust and derision in his voice. “What would the Scions say if they knew that their precious warrior of light was such a degenerate that the idea of being taken as a dragon’s prize of war arouses him so?”
Alantin bit back the whimper that threatened to spill out of him. He fell back, somewhat, from the wall, as Estinien removed the arm that was pinning him in place, but he was quickly pushed back against it by the weight of Estinien’s chest on his back.
One hand stuck down the back of Alantin’s trunks, Estinien reached around to the front with his other. With deft fingers, he gently massaged the outline of Alantin’s cock through the leather.
“Would you have been, for Nidhogg, as Shiva was for Hraesvelgr? Would you have been the dragon’s bride, the pure soul that would temper his savagery?” whispered Estinien.
“Or would you have been his bitch? A broodmare to mewl and coo as he pumped you full of his seed in repeated, futile attempts to make you swell with a new clutch?” Estinien continued, something powerful and ancient in the deep bass rumble of his voice.
“F-fuck, Estinien!” Alantin groaned, as the dragoon bit down with enough force on his shoulder that he almost broke skin.
“I am afraid I will have to disappoint you in that regard, Warrior of Light,” Estinien murmured, licking the teeth marks that he’d left on Alantin’s shoulder. “However much this sultry, indecorous body of yours desires it, I shall let no dragon claim what is mine.”
“Gods damn it!” Alantin groaned. The teasing was torture. He could take it no longer. He bucked his hips backward, pushing his ass into Estinien’s hand, begging with his body for more. “F-fuck me, already!”
A sharp whimper escaped Alantin as Estinien reached between his legs and squeezed his balls. “Suffer no illusion that, somehow, you will get to dictate what happens,” said Estinien, something predatory and threatening in his voice. “I care not how many Primals have been ended at your hands, nor how many foes have fallen before you. In this room, you are mine. And I shall fuck you when I please.”
Alantin whined. It was unfair. He was so horny. He needed it. “W-what use is there being the Warrior of Light if I can’t throw my weight around in the bedroom?” he complained.
Estinien chuckled. The dark, rich sound sent a tingle down Alantin’s spine right to the tip of his straining cock. “Surely you have learned this lesson by now. If you wish to take control, you must fight me for it. Wrest it from my grasp.”
Alantin leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cold stone wall as Estinien’s hand moved from his cock to roam all over his tight body. He could but moan at the way that the Elezen’s slender fingers slipped in and out of the crevices of his cobbled stomach, the way they splayed over his chest and flicked at his nipples.
“That’s right,” said Estinien, with a laugh.
Alantin’s cheeks burned at the derisive tone. He was ferocious on the battlefield but, on this occasion, he could not muster even the slightest shred of resistance.
A low moan spilled out of Alantin as Estinien’s finger pushed into him. The sensation was not unfamiliar, but it certainly felt far different than when he did it to himself.
“We both know you wouldn’t dare,” Estinien growled. “Because under all the bravery and the bluster, what you really are is a reprobate slut.”
Alantin wanted to say something—anything—in his defense, but whatever words he’d managed to muster died in his throat as Estinien’s hand drifted back down to his crotch and squeezed his rock-hard erection.
“You wish to deny it?” Estinien scoffed. “Perish the thought. Your body betrays you. I can feel how hard you are. And just look at how wide your legs spread while I play with your eager cunt.”
Alantin trembled as Estinien traced the tip of his tongue along the curve of his neck. “But perhaps, just this once, I will give you what you want,” Estinien murmured, nibbling on the sensitive patch of skin just at the base of Alantin’s horn.
Estinien pulled his hand out of the back of Alantin’s leather trunks. Letting go of Alantin’s cock, he hooked his fingers into the waistband. It was a tight fit, and it took some strength to pull them down but Estinien had recovered enough to do at least that.
The trunks caught briefly on Alantin’s erection, but Estinien had jerked them down with such force that the resistance was brief. Alantin let out a groan as his cock sprang free of the confines. It thwapped against his stomach, flinging a single string of glistening pre-cum at the wall.
Alantin sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the cold Ishgardian air against his bare ass cheeks. It was one thing to be wearing appropriate gear glamoured to look and feel like a leather bikini in Coerthas—it was another thing entirely to be naked in its harsh climes.
“Stay there,” said Estinien, as he lowered the leather trunks to Alantin’s ankles.
Alantin obeyed without sparing a second thought to the command. He looked over his shoulder and watched as Estinien walked over to his bedside, retrieving a small pot of what Alantin assumed to be oil from the drawer.
Estinien locked eyes with Alantin and smirked. He dipped two fingers into the pot, which glistened as he pulled them out. A thin strand of clear, yellowish oil dripped back into the pot from Estinien’s fingers.
“Spread your legs,” said Estinien, setting the pot of oil next to him as he crouched behind Alantin.
Alantin ducked his head, cheeks flushed, as he quietly did as he was told. He flinched at the touch of Estinien’s fingers on his ass and shivered as they slid into the cleft of his ass, slick with oil.
A long, low groan issued from Alantin’s lips as Estinien’s fingers slipped into him with ease.
“Look at that shameless asshole swallow my fingers,” Estinien hummed, in a self-satisfied tone of voice that made Alantin’s cheeks flush redder with embarrassment.
Moan after desperate moan spilled from Alantin as Estinien’s fingers sawed in and out of his hole, easing him open with every stroke.
“You poor thing. How empty you must feel every day you spend waving that plump ass around for any man who would take notice,” said Estinien, with a laugh. “Color me impressed that you have so far managed to resist what I am sure is an overwhelming urge to fall to your knees in front of just about any man in a position of authority, begging to be impaled like a stuck pig.”
Alantin grunted as Estinien added a third finger alongside a copious helping of more oil. He couldn’t help the desperate little sounds that Estinien forced out of him. The sensation was intense as the dragoon worked his fingers together and apart to stretch him out.
After a minute or so, once Alantin had grown accustomed to the invasion of his most private place, Estinien pulled his fingers out with a slick, wet pop and said, “I think that is sufficient. As expected of a would-be whore, you’re rather easy to open up.”
Estinien chuckled. “I must confess, however, no small amount of disappointment that your body did not resist me more. I would not have appreciated the frustration of trying to work you wide enough to accept me, but I think I would have enjoyed the chance to break you open with my cock.”
As he stood, Estinien shucked off his clothes with a practiced swiftness. All Alantin could hear was the rustle of cloth and the soft, quiet thumps of it landing on the floor as Estinien disrobed.
Alantin tensed as he felt the heat and weight of Estinien’s body on his back once again. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a moan, leaning against the wall with only one arm as Estinien’s cock slid up and down the cleft of his ass.
“Are you ready, Warrior of Light?” Estinien murmured, lips pressed against the base of Alantin’s neck.
“Y-y—” Alantin moaned out loud as, without waiting for a response, Estinien pushed into him.
Estinien laughed. He bit down on Alantin’s neck, hard enough to leave yet another mark. “I told you I would fuck you when I please,” he said, a sadistic edge to his voice as he forcefully snapped his hips forward and buried his cock to the hilt inside the Warrior of Light.
Alantin let out a strangled yelp. Estinien was larger than he’d expected. As much time as Estinien had taken to stretch him out, the sudden thrust split him open.
Estinien knew how to use the veritable weapon between his legs. His first thrust slammed right into that spot inside Alantin, the one that made him see stars, and made his knees go weak.
Alantin braced himself against the wall with both arms, sweat dripping from his brow despite the chill of the Ishgardian air. He could feel Estinien’s cock buried deep inside of him, hard as an iron-rod and seemingly as hot as molten rock. He could feel every pulse and throb, every thundering heartbeat. His asshole burned as it stretched around the considerable girth, and with every small movement of Estinien’s hips.
“Feel that?” Estinien grunted, against the nape of Alantin’s neck. “Feels like home already,” he said.
Once he was satisfied that Alantin had adjusted to him already, Estinien wasted no more time than was necessary. Alantin groaned as he felt Estinien’s cock saw in and out of his hole. It was only little by little at first, but Estinien quickly picked up the force and pace of his thrusting.
It wasn’t long before Estinien was pounding away at Alantin’s hole with abandon. It felt good. So good. There was pain there, too, intermingled with the pleasure, but all it served to do was highlight the sheer rapturous bliss that accompanied every slap of Estinien’s hips against his.
Alantin moaned, groaned, and mewled as Estinien did his best to rearrange his insides. Estinien’s hands were at his hips, gripped tightly, fingernails digging into his skin. Those were going to leave a mark—not that Alantin minded, necessarily.
In and out. In and out. For someone that had suffered severe injury not too long ago, Estinien fucked Alantin with surprising force. He didn’t falter, even for half a heartbeat, as he pounded his cock into the Au Ra’s sloppy, eager hole.
Alantin braced himself against the wall as Estinien plowed into him with animalistic abandon. Sweat dripped from his brow. The cold Ishgard air suddenly didn’t seem so cold. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the quiet, wet squelching of Estinien’s cock coring out his asshole filled the air.
Half-delirious with pleasure, Alantin absently clawed at the wall and arched his back, pushing his ass back into Estinien’s vicious grip. His toes curled against the cold stone floor, with every thrust.
Alantin’s cock, largely ignored, bounced up and down between his legs. He was achingly hard and leaking like a tap and yet he felt no desire to touch himself. Not that he needed to. Estinien’s every thrust hit that special spot inside of him, driving him closer and closer to the edge of orgasm without needing to so much as wrap his fingers around his straining erection.
Throwing his head back, Alantin let out a loud groan. “E-Estinien!” he cried out, after a particularly powerful thrust sent sparks up his spine into his head. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He didn’t know how much more he could take. And yet, it seemed that Estinien was only getting rougher with every passing moment.
It was almost as if Estinien were channeling the raw brutality and savagery of Nidhogg with every pump of his hips.
Alantin was unraveling. He moaned. He groaned. Every thrust was so strong he could almost feel his brain bouncing around in his skull. He mewled and begged until his voice was hoarse and he could do little more than rest his head against the wall and blubber unintelligibly.
“You feel so good,” Estinien growled, as his thrusts became more erratic and out-of-rhythm.
Alantin’s eyes widened as he felt the dragoon’s cock swell inside of him. He had not known it could get any harder, or any bigger, for that matter.
“I-I should have expected it,” Estinien grunted, that same deep, rich, ancient rumble in his voice. “T-this is what your whore cunt was made for,” he hissed, right into the base of Alantin’s horn.
Alantin whimpered. Estinien slammed his cock home one last time, hunching his hips into Alantin to force himself as deep as he could. Alantin felt every ragged heartbeat, every pulse, and throb of Estinien’s cock. He practically even felt the cum surging up the formidable length of it.
A low, guttural snarl escaped Estinien as he bit down on Alantin’s back. The pain, mixed with the molten heat of Estinien’s first shot painting his insides white, sent Alantin over the edge.
Alantin’s vision blurred and his eyelids fluttered as his whole body tensed. All the pressure that had been building exploded out of him in rippling waves of pleasure that slammed into his body over and over and over until it was the only thing he could feel.
Estinien’s cock unloaded inside of Alantin with great force. He could feel every shot, every spurt. There was so much of it, too. Perhaps a parting gift from Nidhogg, or perhaps a sign that the Elezen was naturally gifted with voluminous seed.
Alantin’s own orgasm was comparatively weak. A few strong shots burst out of his cock, splattering against the wall. The rest dribbled weakly out of him and pooled on the floor between his feet.
Not that it mattered. It felt good all the same. Most of the pleasure had come from Alantin’s ass, anyway. That he’d come at all was mostly secondary. Even now, a phantom of the mind-numbing sensation that had erupted from his ass lingered still.
Estinien pulled out of Alantin with a groan. “Now that I have had a taste, I am not certain I ever want to let go,” he said.
Alantin could only grunt in response. He felt so empty without Estinien inside of him, and though he tried his best to clench, he could still feel the trickle of cum down the inside of his thighs.
Estinien scoffed. “I know you are wont to get dragged elsewhere by the winds of fate, but I am of half a mind to tie you down with chains so thick and heavy none might free you but me.”
Alantin whined. He was getting hard again.
Estinien laughed. He grabbed Alantin by the wrist, pulled him off the wall, and pushed him toward the bed. Alantin nearly stumbled over his own feet, but somehow made it to the bed before collapsing on top with a muffled thud.
“Unfortunately for you, I am too tired to do so,” said Estinien, falling onto the bed beside Alantin with a quiet laugh. He reached over and brushed his fingers through the Warrior of Light’s hair.
“But, at the very least, I am full glad that you will not be able to walk out of here for at least a few hours yet,” said Estinien.
“Y-you’re not that good,” Alantin grunted.
Estinien’s laugh reverberated from the stone walls. “I should like to see you try, Warrior of Light,” he murmured.
Alantin huffed. “Never mind.”