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“Time to play our parts.”
B’alith gritted his teeth and tried not to let his irritation show as Koana took off running without so much as a backward glance toward his co-conspirator. The Second Promises’s reasons for swift action were understandable—gods only knew how he would behave if it was B’intana who had been abducted in Wuk Lamat’s place—but being treated as merely some hired muscle still rankled. He hitched up the skirts of his robes and tried to keep up.
Koana barely even looked out of breath by the time B’alith skidded to a halt beside him. He pointed at a Hrothgar—Xbr’aal, they were called here—standing a little ways ahead of them. “There. That Xbr'aal fellow. Share with him how happy your imaginary deal with me has made you. Once you've put on an appropriate display, we can continue to our next performance.”
B’alith’s ears went back at being given yet another order, his tail whipping irritably as a pointed rebuke started to form in his mouth. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Koana added, “We want Wawkesa to notice us─be loud and convincing.”
The quirk of his mouth and the way his gaze lowered a fraction made B’alith’s planned response vanish like the morning mist. One ear flicked, pricking half-forward despite his best efforts to the contrary. Did he really just…?
Whether Koana’s choice of wording was intentional or not, the chance to catch the competition on the back foot was too tempting to pass up. “My, my. How forward of you, Second Promise,” B’alith replied, putting a hint of a purr into his voice and letting it drop into the lower, more intimate register that he knew would convey his meaning quite plainly. “I didn’t think we knew each other that well yet.”
Koana’s expressions were harder for B’alith to read, a Sharlayan education and whatever cultural differences existed between Eorzean Miqo’te and Turali Hhetsarro being what they were, but the way his ears twitched in response to the intimation was unmistakable. The faintest suggestion of a smirk curled at the corners of B’alith’s mouth as he brushed past the other man, close enough to give him a quick impression of Koana's scent before making his way toward their intended target. Koana smelled as B’alith had expected him to: leather and ink, mineral oil, a spicy citrus note that he could not quite place—and under that, the sharper, more sour note of fear. He would not mind at all becoming more acquainted with how those scents blended with the headier musk of arousal instead, but cooperating with the Second Promise long enough to achieve their current objective was more pressing than his own, more personal desires.
B’alith made what he thought was a decent enough show at boasting about his fictitious purchase of a rare gem, drawing on memories of his years living and working in Ul’dah and swallowing his distaste for performative shows of wealth, and he soon found himself in Koana’s company once again.
Koana’s assessment of his performance was as curt as ever. “A good start,” he said, already turning his attention to others in the area, “but I would make certain Wawkesa is aware of me. Let's continue.”
“Not like this, we're not.” B’alith grabbed at the sleeve of Koana’s coat when he started forward again without even waiting for an acknowledgement of the plan. “I’m sure you’ve become accustomed to everyone around you fawning over your brilliance the moment you open your mouth, but I am not so easily impressed, Second Promise. If you wish for my continued cooperation, you will treat me as an equal and not as a lackey.”
Koana’s answering look was impressively withering, B’alith had to admit. “If you were truly my equal you would be supporting my claim to the throne, but that is neither here nor there. Lamaty’i’s safety is what matters now.” He jerked his arm free from B’alith’s grip and smoothed out the fabric again before pointing to their next target. “That Moblin over there looks amenable to conversation. The stage is yours, B’alith.”
The pair of Miqo’te managed to execute the remainder of their plan with what B’alith thought was a heroically restrained amount of charged banter, and they soon found themselves confronting a group of Wawkesa’s men. B’alith allowed himself a measure of satisfaction at the way Koana’s expression changed in response to the demonstration of spellcraft that followed his instruction to “leave them capable of speech”—it was clear that he was reassessing his opinion of his sister’s ally and adjusting his strategy accordingly. The Second Promise had thus far displayed a level of indifference to the arcane that bordered on contempt, an attitude B’alith was all too happy to help him correct.
So, too, was B’alith forced to reconsider his temporary ally’s skills as he watched Koana extract the information they needed from the underlings with an almost surgical precision. He found himself contemplating yet again what kind of response he might be able to provoke once their rescue mission was complete, and how Koana might deal with the willful resistance that the sorts of lovers he tended to attract liked to take as the challenge to put him in his place that he meant it to be. Would he still be capable of speech by the time the other Miqo’te was done with him, B’alith wondered, or would Koana be the sort who took his satisfaction from coaxing out a lover’s every desire in explicit detail first?
Any further speculation on the matter would have to wait, however, as the final steps of the rescue effort began to unfold at a rapid pace. B’alith scarcely had time to catch his breath, let alone let his thoughts wander towards more personal pleasures, for the remainder of the day until their confrontation with Bakool Ja Ja had finally wound to its frustrating close and the Third Promise was free of her abductors once more.
The mood in their shared camp was one of somber determination as the claimants and their allies reconvened in Many Fires once again. B’alith stole a glance over at Koana while the healers among them were busy with examining Wuk Lamat—he hovered close by, the tip of his tail curling and uncurling in a gesture of barely-suppressed anxiety that was all too familiar while he watched Alphinaud and Urianger work. It was clear that he was one misplaced comment away from doing something rash, and though B’alith no longer owed him any sort of cooperation he feared his own little sister would be all too happy to take that as an invitation to start a replacement for the fight she’d just been denied.
“Second Promise,” B’alith murmured as he moved to stand beside Koana, “a word, please.” Before Koana could respond, he added more quietly, “In private.”
From over Koana’s shoulder, he caught B’intana watching the pair of them intently. B’alith did his best to ignore her, but despite his best efforts he could not quite stop a suggestion of a blush from trying to rise in his cheeks anyway. His youngest sister knew him better than anyone else—the half-flattened set of her ears and the judgemental twist of her mouth said don’t you dare think about it, Alith far more clearly than words could.
Koana cocked an eyebrow at him, his gaze flicking away from the Miqo’te addressing him to his sister and back. “Colluding with the enemy in full view of your claimant? Now who’s the one who is being bold?”
A knowing smile pulled at the corner of B’alith’s mouth at the invocation of their earlier flirtation—and a flirtation it most certainly had been, of that he was now sure. “I assure you, I can be a great deal bolder under the right circumstances.”
“Is that so?”
Koana finally gave him his full attention. His face remained the mask of cultivated neutrality that B’alith knew all too well could hide a calculating and passionate mind—he let himself imagine once again how those handsome features might soften when the Second Promise let himself surrender to desire, rather than to panic.
“No.” Koana raised a hand to push his glasses further up his nose. “I don’t think you will.”
That was not at all the answer B’alith had been expecting. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are not nearly as subtle as you seem to think you are,” Koana answered. His voice had dropped to a smug purr much like the one B’alith had tried on him earlier, quiet enough that he had to lean in closer in order to make out the other Miqo’te’s words more clearly. “I know exactly what you are hoping for—and you will not get it from me so long as the Rite of Succession is underway.”
Koana leaned in further, closing the distance between them until his mouth nearly brushed against B’alith’s as he added, “For now, at least, I need you frustrated, distracted, and denied far more than I need you any other way.”
B’alith stared at him, trying to fight down the heat that had risen in his cheeks while he grappled for something appropriately cutting to reply with. Before he could find his words again, Koana had already turned his attention back to his traveling companions, signaling to Thancred and Urianger that they should make ready to depart with a curt nod. He watched the Second Promise and his Archon allies take their leave, grateful at least for the small mercy of B’intana being distracted by trying to rally Wuk Lamat’s spirits—she would never let him hear the end of it if she’d witnessed the outcome of that particular conversation.
I hope for your sake that you are a gracious loser, Second Promise, B’alith thought. Because when I play a game like this, I play to win.
The knock on B’alith’s door at the For’ard Cabins several weeks later came as little surprise. He’d become accustomed to interruptions at all hours in the course of his long career as an adventurer, but the journey back to Tuliyollal with the soon-to-be-Dawnservent and the rest of their allies had left him feeling decidedly worn out. He’s been glad for an evening to himself to catch up on the letters to his friends and loved ones back in Eorzea that he’d been too busy to send while the Rite of Succession was underway, but the whims of fate seemed to have other plans for him.
The sight of Koana’s pensive face when B’alith opened the door made him choke back a laugh that was tinged with a pang of homesickness. He bit his lip against the grin that pulled at his mouth, remembering a similar encounter from his past and how that had ultimately played out.
“Surprised to see me?” Koana said with a wry smile as he took in B’alith attempts to control his facial expression. “I suppose it's only natural… May I come in?”
“By all means, please do.” B’alith stepped aside and gestured him into the spacious rooms he’d been appointed for the duration of his stay.
Koana hovered near the foyer, seemingly unsure of how seriously to take the invitation—he’d made no move towards removing his shoes, as was the custom in the parts of Tural that B’alith had thus far explored, and he still wore the pale green coat and tight black trousers that were decidedly more Sharlayan than Turali in aesthetic. B’alith considered his own clothes, an embroidered tunic and leggings that he’d brought with him by way of his time in Thavnair, and wondered how Koana felt about more traditional modes of dress.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” B’alith asked, trying to think of how he could put his guest more at ease, or at least how to distract him from whatever was weighing on his mind. “I’m not much for liquor, but I’ve been trying to learn how to brew mate, and I think I’ve gotten the knack of it enough that I’d not be ashamed to submit my efforts to a local’s more discerning palate.”
Koana shook his head, but the faint hint of color that bloomed across his tanned cheeks suggested he had caught B’alith’s deliberate choice of the word submit. “Thank you, but no. I’m here because I haven't properly thanked you. That my sister was able to realize her potential is testament to the quality of her traveling companions.” He met B’alith’s gaze again, vivid amethyst seeking mismatched blue and green. “Particularly you. For that, you have my heartfelt gratitude.”
B’alith’s face went a little hot in return, and he swallowed around the sudden lump of emotion that formed in his throat. “I think my own sister played a far bigger part than I did. B’intana knows a thing or two herself about learning to stand on her own merits, rather than continuing to measure herself against the feats of others.”
“Little sisters really are quite something, aren’t they,” Koana replied, his expression suddenly distant. “The two of you are truly a force to be reckoned with, if the brief glimpses I witnessed of your martial prowess are any indication.”
“Don’t tell her that,” B’alith said with a laugh. “Intana hardly needs any more encouragement to be a menace on the battlefield, especially if it comes in the form of praise from your sister.”
Koana’s ears flicked at the mention of how obvious it was to everyone around them that Wuk Lamat and B’intana had become quite fond of each other. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Ah, speaking of sisters… My primary business in calling is to deliver a message from Lamaty'i. As you well know, after the ascension ceremony she will officially take up the mantle of Dawnservant. She has expressed a desire for you to accept a post within her administration.” He paused, his gaze dropping to focus on a spot somewhere behind B’alith’s shoulder again. “…While making no mention of me.”
A knot of bittersweet empathy caught in B’alith’s chest. The way Koana’s posture had changed, drawing into himself as if he could curl around the hurt he felt at the thought of his youngest sibling no longer needing him, was all too familiar.
“Your sister has grown into a remarkable woman, even in the short time I have known her,” B’alith said. “But believe me when I say this from a place of deep understanding: no matter how capable she becomes, she will always be your little sister. Whatever plan Wuk Lamat has for how she means to rule, I cannot fathom that it is one in which you do not have a place by her side.”
Koana started as if he’d just been struck. His eyes went very wide; he reached up to fuss with his glasses again, but not before B’alith caught the barest hint of tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes.
Before he could think of what else to say, Koana seemed to come back to himself. He straightened his coat and drew himself up to his full height again. “You needn't decide immediately,” he said, a little too brusquely for it to come across as genuine. “My sister will broach the matter with you again after the ceremony. Whether you continue to assist Lamaty'i or not is up to you.” He gave B’alith a curt nod before turning towards the door again. “That is all. If you'll excuse me.”
“Second Prom— um, Koana. Wait.”
Koana froze with his hand on the doorknob. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression carefully neutral, but the way his ears had pricked up at the sound of B’alith’s voice gave his hopes away clearly enough.
“Yes?”
“That wasn’t the only reason you came here tonight, was it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
B’alith crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the dining table. He let a hint of the challenging smile that he knew tended to get a rise out of people creep back across his face. “You said your ‘primary business’ was to deliver your sister’s message. What other business did you hope to have with me, I wonder, that had to wait until you were sure I was likely to be alone in order to pursue it?”
“Ah. Yes, about that.” Koana paused again. His shoulders rose and fell sharply, an obvious sign of the steadying breath he’d just taken before making his way back towards the Miqo’te watching him. “The Rite of Succession has ended. I am no longer your competition.”
“So you so ably demonstrated, with that impressive show of marksmanship.”
A hint of a smirk curled around the edges of Koana’s mouth again at the acknowledgement of his skill. He lifted his chin a fraction higher and came to stand in front of B’alith again, much closer than he had when he’d first been invited in. “What I mean by that is, I no longer need you to be distracted and unsatisfied—I would rather have you in other ways, if what you were offering back in Kozama’uka is still on the table.”
“I take it you’ve changed your mind on whether you consider me an equal, then?”
“An equal and then some. You are a formidable ally, and Tural is fortunate to have you fighting with us, rather than against us.”
B’alith couldn’t help but laugh at the echo of another long-ago conversation. “You know, my husband had some similar thoughts on the matter when he first approached me like this, too.”
Koana visibly paled. He took a half step back again, clearly trying to play it off as something other than the flinch it so obviously was. “…Husband?”
“In a manner of speaking,” B’alith answered. “He and I are bonded according to the customs of our respective clans. Not quite a marriage in the way that word is used elsewhere—I have other lovers, for instance, as does he—but a close enough equivalent, I suppose. I recognize that you’ve not had much reason to think fondly of Miqo’te cultural practices, but B’intana and I were raised as traditionally-minded Seekers of the Sun. Monogamy has never been our way—nor is the way we do things quite as common as I’d first believed when I was newly on my own outside our village.” He laughed again, his ears flattening briefly at the memory of youthful mistakes. “A lesson I had to learn the awkward and painful way, lo those many summers ago.”
“I see.” Koana’s expression had settled back into its mask of pensive neutrality, but the way the tip of his tail curled suggested that he was taking in every bit of information being presented to him and giving it due consideration.
“I tell you this not to dissuade you,” B’alith continued, “but to give you all the context you need to make your decision accordingly. I…” He made a little fluttering gesture with his hands, trying to feel for how this kind of conversation was supposed to go and praying he wasn’t about to make a complete mess of it. “Forgive me, I am… not terribly adept at speaking my feelings this plainly. I find myself growing fond of you, and I would like a chance to get to know you better, whether that’s over a shared meal or a lively debate—or in bed, if you so choose.”
He reached out to smooth down the lapels of Koana’s coat and let his hands linger there for a beat, feeling the solid planes of muscle beneath and the way tension coiled in the other Miqo’te’s shoulders. “I will not think less of you if you’d prefer we not do this,” he finished, “but if you’re amenable… I would very much like to show you how loud and convincing I can be.”
Koana’s mouth parted against a soft hitch in his breathing that was deliciously close to a gasp. B’alith watched him think, utterly transfixed at the way the tip of his tongue darted out to whet full lips, trying not to think too hard about where else Koana might put that tongue to good use lest he set himself up for disappointment.
The silence between them had stretched out long enough to feel like its own sort of answer before Koana finally made up his mind.
“Oh, confound it all…” Koana let out an exasperated huff. “This was so much easier before I became fond of you, too.” He raked his hands through his hair and fussed with his glasses before meeting B’alith’s gaze again, his mouth curving into the sort of haughty smirk that B’alith had always been weak against. “I think I can work with that. Go on, then. Convince me.”
B’alith needed no further prompting to close the remaining distance between them. Their lips met, and any remaining doubts he had about Koana’s feelings on sharing his affections quickly fled.
Koana kissed him with purpose, firm and yielding in alternate measure, strong arms wrapping around B’alith’s waist to draw him in closer and coaxing a moan from his throat in response. There was a brief moment of fumbling while Koana tried to kick off his boots without breaking the kiss, followed by a dull thump when he succeeded—a shiver of arousal curled up B’alith’s spine in response, at the confirmation that the Second Promise planned to stay a while. He let his teeth scrape against Koana’s bottom lip, a gesture that was a challenge as much as it was an invitation. Something metallic pressed into his mouth along with the softer warmth of Koana’s tongue; he paused for a beat, a little startled noise catching in his throat at the unexpected sensation.
Koana pulled back at B’alith’s response. “Is something wrong?”
“You have your tongue pierced.”
“I do, yes. Does that bother you?”
“No, I just… it’s not something I’ve experienced before, is all.” B’alith brought a hand up to trace Koana’s mouth with his thumb. “Do you have any other piercings I should know about?”
Koana’s answering smile was maddeningly inscrutable. “You’ll have to convince me some more first before I answer that.”
B’alith kissed him again. They were of nearly identical height, he realized when Koana pressed him back against the edge of the dividing wall that separated the sleeping and dining quarters, an experience he’d not had with a lover in quite some time. He thrilled at the way their bodies slotted together, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, letting his nails skim over the lines of Koana’s throat as he slid his hands into the deep green curls at the nape of his neck. Koana’s grip tightened, hips bucking against the friction of another’s body pressing in against him—it seemed he was the sort to commit wholeheartedly to a decision once he’d made it, a trait that B’alith was more than happy to be subjected to when it aligned with what he also wanted.
“You seem pretty convinced already,” B’alith gasped when they broke apart to catch their breath. He slid his hands out of Koana’s hair to begin working at the buckles on his coat. “Not sure how much more persuasive I need to be.”
“Mm. Let’s try for loud then, shall we?”
Koana leaned in again to nuzzle against B’alith’s neck. Those full lips parted against his skin again, seeking any hint of where he might be most receptive to more focused attention. Koana’s mouth dipped below the open collar of B’alith tunic; his knees went weak and he clutched at Koana’s coat more tightly, a breathless cry falling from his lips as sharp teeth sank into the curve of his neck where it sloped into his shoulder. Koana made a pleased-sounding noise in the back of his throat at getting the reaction he’d been looking for. His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of B’alith’s hips to grab at his ass and hold him tightly while he set to work worrying a deep bruise into freckled skin, alternating savage little nips of his teeth with firm suction until B’alith was dizzy and breathless with want at the thought of him applying those talents to somewhere even more sensitive.
“Grateful as I am for this pillar’s support,” B’alith said as he unwound Koana’s arms from around his waist so he could free them enough to finish peeling off his coat, “there are a great many surfaces in here which are far better suited to this sort of activity.” He took hold of Koana’s cravat, long since dislodged from its tidy knot, and began tugging him towards the spacious balcony that offered a magnificent view of Tuliyollal’s coastline. “You were awfully focused on making sure we were seen when you enlisted my help in rescuing your sister. Should we fuck out here, then, where the other guests might see or hear us?”
Koana’s face went very red. “I— ah, p-perhaps another time? It seems I am not quite as… adventurous in my tastes as you are.”
“With the way you were just using your mouth? I doubt that very much.”
B’alith slid his hands down the plane of Koana’s belly, letting them linger over the hem of his trousers before pulling away to drop down onto the large, comfortable sofa they’d stopped beside. He glanced up at the man standing before him, letting his gaze rake over the length of Koana’s body and taking in the way his ordinarily calm demeanor was starting to come unraveled; the breadth of his shoulders and the way his waistcoat accentuated how the slope of his chest tapered to narrow hips and powerful thighs.
“You know, I could not for the life of me figure out what these ridiculous straps on your trousers were for, but I think I have a better idea now.” B’alith hooked his fingers into the white leather harness that crisscrossed Koana’s legs and pulled him a step closer. “With how tightly they fit, it’s impossible for a discerning eye not to be drawn towards how generously you fill them out.”
B’alith paused to look up at him again before leaning in to mouth at the prominent line of his cock straining against the sturdy fabric. Koana bucked against him with a stifled curse, tail lashing more animatedly than B’alith had seen it do thus far; he made no effort to suppress the triumphant smile that spread across his face at how the other man responded to his touch, knowing Koana would be able to feel it even through the layers of cloth that still tragically separated them.
“So, what do you like?” he said, praying that his ordinarily brash confidence wouldn't fail him the way it too often did when he tried to articulate his preferences more bluntly. He reached up to work at the fastenings on Koana’s waistcoat. “I could peel you the rest of the way out of these trousers and get you off with my mouth, since you’ve positioned yourself so conveniently for that. You could join me down here and ride me until you’ve taken your fill. Or, if you’d rather, there are a great many other surfaces in here upon which I would quite happily let you bend me over—including an actual bed, if you’re feeling especially depraved.
“Because what I like, Second Promise, is to be left feeling like a lover has used me for the pursuit of their own pleasure.” B’alith leaned away to arrange himself into a more inviting position, letting his arms rest across the back of the sofa and canting his hips so his own arousal was that much more obvious. “So. Use me.”
Koana all but fell into his lap at the invitation to do so. B’alith met the embrace eagerly, offering his mouth up for more of those deep, purposeful kisses that made desire lick white-hot up his spine, sliding his hands under Koana’s shirt and feeling planes of muscle flex as he ground against the man beneath him. B’alith bucked against each roll of Koana’s hips against his, chasing his own arousal as much as trying to coax more hungry moans from the other Miqo’te. They needed to break apart long enough to finish getting their clothes out of the way, he knew, but he had little desire to stop for any length of time.
“That. That. I want more of that,” Koana gasped against his mouth as B’alith raked his nails through the trail of hair that ran up his belly to his chest. “Fuck, your hands—”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” B’alith caught both of Koana’s hands with his own. He slid his fingers under the hem of the fine white leather that sheathed them, carefully circling the sensitive pulse points at both wrists with the tip of a fingernail and drawing out a noise that was gratifyingly close to a whimper in response. “There is still far too much clothing and not nearly enough bare skin between us, and I for one much rather you make a mess of me than of my trousers.”
“I thought adventurers were supposed to be more tolerant of getting messy.”
“You’ll forgive me if I am somewhat fussier about it, I hope. I am a mage, after all.”
“Hah. Fair enough, I suppose.”
Koana caught the tip of one gloved finger with his teeth and began freeing his hands while B’alith finished shrugging out of his tunic. He started to reach for the waistband of Koana’s trousers, and faltered when now-bare fingertips slid down his neck to his chest. Koana’s hands were calloused in different places than his were, toughened by handling a firearm and by whatever other mechanical pursuits he occupied himself with, and he had an engineer’s deft touch to go with them. B’alith arched against him with a needy whine when those fingers found the rings that pierced each nipple, delicately circling the sensitive flesh before experimenting with sharper tugs and harder pinches that drew louder cries from him to match.
“Our desires are well suited to each other, it seems,” Koana murmured, his voice gone breathy and rough with arousal. “I am not the only one with some adornments in unexpected places.”
“Speaking of… you never did answer my question about that.”
“No, I suppose I didn’t. Keep doing what you were doing and you’ll get your answer.”
B’alith resumed his work undoing trouser fastenings. He slid a hand between Koana’s thighs, fingers wrapping around the thick length of his erection to pull it free. His eyebrows went up, and Koana’s smile took on an air of smug satisfaction at the way B’alith stared wide-eyed at the three silver bars that decorated the underside of his cock.
“Well, that’s certainly something.” B’alith trailed his fingers along the ridges formed by the piercings, feeling Koana’s thighs tense against his as he squirmed under the light touch. “How should I… do I need to… that is, are they…”
Koana laughed. “They’re not just for looks, no.” He covered B’alith’s hand with his own, encouraging him to take a firmer grip again. “Here, like this.”
B’alith quickly discovered that Koana could be an exceedingly demanding lover. He knew exactly what he liked, and—unlike B’alith himself—utterly lacked any shyness when it came to telling his partner exactly how to best please him. Touch me there. Use your nails more. Kiss me again. Harder, just like that. B’alith followed all of his instructions to the letter, feeling the way Koana’s body responded when he found the right ways to touch and thrilling at the experience of learning how it looked and felt when a new lover was getting close to their edge. He had always prided himself on being a diligent student, even without such explicitly detailed guidance.
“I— fuck— I am going to come all over your chest if you keep that up,” Koana gasped. He bucked against B’alith’s hand more forcefully, the movements of his hips growing more frantic as he chased his release.
“Should I stop?”
“Don’t you fucking dare—“
“That’s what I thought.” B’alith stroked him harder, relishing the way Koana clung more tightly to his shoulders and how that stoked the fire of his own arousal. “Go on, then. Show me that expert marksmanship again, Second Promise.”
Koana’s restraint broke. He came with a breathless cry, tail lashing against B’alith’s thighs as he spent across his partner’s chest and belly. The tension in his body slowly ebbed as sensation eased, until finally he was loose-limbed and relaxed again. He sat back on his heels, flushed and panting, looking down at the thoroughly disheveled Miqo’te underneath him through heavy-lidded eyes while he caught his breath.
“I thought you said you didn’t like getting messy,” he said after a moment.
“No, I said I didn’t like my clothes getting dirty. The rest of me is an entirely different story.”
“Good. I like you like this.”
B’alith laughed and leaned against the back of the sofa again. “Pleased with yourself, are you?”
“Exceedingly.” Koana took B’alith’s hand and brought it to his mouth. His tongue flicked out again, cleaning his spend from his partner’s skin with an exaggerated thoroughness. B’alith watched him raptly; he swallowed hard at the sensation of the bar in Koana’s tongue playing over his fingers, painfully aware of his own arousal again. “Shall I return the favor now, perhaps?”
“You’ll hear no complaints from me on the matter.”
Koana slid out of B’alith’s lap to kneel on the floor between his legs. Again the heat of his tongue against sensitive skin, licking sweat and seed from B’alith’s stomach and following the trail of auburn hair that ran from his navel to disappear beneath the hem of his leggings. “I’d rather hear something else from you instead, anyway.”
The remainder of the evening passed in a haze of pleasurable new experiences. B’alith let himself sink into it, grateful for the way sex had always been the most effective way to temporarily quiet his racing mind. He could put aside thoughts of the upcoming ascension and his myriad questions about the seal they’d discovered on the entrance to the golden city—for a few precious bells, the only things that mattered were the sensation of flesh against flesh, Koana’s murmured coaxing and B’aliths frustrated curses that soon turned to breathless pleas for more, harder, don’t stop, until at last they had finally exhausted each other past the point of recovering enough for one more round.
B’alith lay back against one of the sofa’s armrests—they never had made it all the way to his bed—and lazily stretched as he watched Koana pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the dining table. The other Miqo’te seemed to be a bit shier about his nakedness once the heat of the moment had passed—he’d pulled his smallclothes and his shirt back on when he got up, though he’d left the latter unbuttoned. The partial dress looked good on him, as did the bruises starting to bloom across his skin from where B’alith’s nails and teeth had left marks when Koana had figured out some of the ways he could drive his partner wild with need.
“Don’t feel as if you have to rush out on my account,” B’alith murmured when Koana came to join him on the sofa again. “You are welcome to stay the night if you wish, but I suspect we are alike in that we are both men who prefer a bit of our own space.”
Koana huffed a soft laugh in reply. “Much as I would like to protest, I cannot deny that I would like nothing more right now than to sleep in my own bed again.”
“A feeling I know intimately, believe me.” B’alith pushed himself back up to sitting and ran a hand through his hair, long since unraveled from the loose braid he usually kept it in while traveling. “In that case, I’ll not keep you any longer.”
He got to his feet on shaky legs and went to wrap himself in the colorfully-patterned dressing gown that had come with the spacious rooms while Koana finished collecting the rest of his discarded clothes. When they were both as presentable as they were going to get, B’alith came to join him beside the door again, where Koana was tugging his boots back on.
“Before you go,” he said, “answer me this one last question first.”
“Mm?”
B’alith tapped the rim of Koana’s glasses with a fingernail. “You don’t actually need these to see, do you?”
Koana flushed. His shoulders briefly tensed, suggesting that he was restraining the urge to fidget with the thin frames again. “You’ve caught me out,” he said with a sheepish grin. “How did you know?”
“It’s the way you fuss with them all the time.” B’alith pointed at his own pair of spectacles, thicker lenses in round steel frames that were far more practical than they were stylish. “I am nearly blind without mine. I started wearing them before I had reached my tenth summer—you interact with yours the way you think someone who wears glasses is supposed to.”
Koana took this information in with his usual pensive air, though the flush coloring his tanned cheeks had not fully dissipated. “Well,” he finally answered, “I suppose I will just have to spend more time with you, then, to better study your habits.”
“I’d like that.” B’alith kissed him one more time, softer and more tenderly than before, then opened the door for him. “Goodnight, Koana.”
“Goodnight, B’alith.”