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Only years of habit ingrained by Ishgardian military service stopped Aymeric from dropping his weighty outer uniform on the ground where he stood. As it was, he managed to place the cloak and armour in a manner befitting the station it represented before sinking into the settee in his shirtsleeves with a great sigh. It was, he considered, a great show of discipline when he felt as much a wilted plant as a man. Khili'ra eyed him with no small amount of amusement.
"Suppose you survived two wars in as many years and then met your end by melting on borrowed furniture," he said, tilting a smile at him from across the room; Aymeric opened his eyes just in time to catch it. "I would be embarrassed, personally. Probably have to pay the inn to replace the whole seat."
"At least then I wouldn't have to deal with this heat any longer," he replied. "I don't understand how anyone can live here."
Khili'ra returned from the basin with a pitcher of water, a cup of which Aymeric took with gratefulness that bordered on pathetic. "I thought the same when I first came to Ul'Dah - and to Ishgard, in another regard. You learn to live with it. Or," and here he leaned over and knocked his knuckles against the tankard, sending a chill through the ceramic, ice chunks forming on the surface of the water, "you find a way around it."
He looked almost unbearably smug, his soft ears twitching. Aymeric felt almost unbearably fond.
"I fear if any of my men saw you had this talent I'd not see you for the rest of the time we're here, you'd be that busy."
"Well, for me this is a friends-only sort of service. They'll have to make nice with a thaumaturge of their very own. The Coco brothers are like as not to have gone back to Ul'Dah by now, but I'm sure they've left behind some guildmembers to rest before following along. "
He settled onto the settee next to him, tail curled almost thoughtlessly onto his own lap ostensibly to keep it out of the way. Aymeric tried to keep it from drawing his eye too obviously.
"I am impressed by your lot, though, truly," Khili'ra continued, thankfully giving him something to focus on. "To fight this long in armour intended for arctic warfare is nothing short of remarkable. Every time I saw one of your soldiers I worried I would see steam coming from the eyes of their helms."
"Well, one thing Ishgard has in abundance-"
"Besides snow?"
"-yes, quite - besides snow - is endurance. Although, I'm sure there's not a one among us that wouldn't have rather worn what you have on instead of full mail."
Khili'ra's eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners when he laughed. It was something Aymeric had noticed long before, but it cheered him to witness it every time he coaxed it forth. Perhaps it was only the damnable Ala Mhigan heat, but he had noticed how difficult it was to keep his mind wandering inappropriate places now that they were truly alone - perhaps for the first time. Besides the guards outside the door, of course. It took real effort not to let his gaze drift downwards to the curve of his ribcage emerging from the bottom of his short top, the warm brown expanse of his slim waist exposed to the air, the line of his hips above the hem of his trousers - ah. Desperate to get his mind back on track, Aymeric said the first thing to come to mind.
"Come to think of it, you tended to dress mostly for the weather back home. What stopped you from dressing this way all the time, if you can control your temperature?"
This seemed to be - while not precisely the wrong thing - not the right thing to say. The crinkles at his eyes disappeared, though he didn't seem upset.
"My welcome into Ishgard wasn't exactly warm or unanimous, if you'll recall. The last thing I wanted to do was bring more criticism to my benefactors' doorstep. Or encourage the things they were already saying." Khili'ra's eyelashes lowered slightly. "Though I wager they still would have called me 'the Fortemp whore' even if I had been covered eartip to toetip and - well, if dear Haurchefant had ever touched subtlety with a ten-foot pike."
There was a time, after all was finished, that even mentioned his departed friend (lover? Aymeric had never been brave enough to ask) brought something brittle behind Khili'ra's eyes, like even touching the memory would shatter something completely. Aymeric was relieved to see that that deep grief had lessened its hold over time, leaving enough room for him to speak of it. Instead of looking delicate and half to breaking Khili'ra just looked rueful.
"In my experience, there is rarely a noble that won't immediately reach for low-hanging fruit with both hands," Aymeric agreed. "Still, I'm sorry that you had to face that in the midst of so many troubles of your own."
Khili'ra only shook his head, taking a long draught from his own mug. "Don't worry about my feelings, my friend. I've spent far more of my life an outcast than a hero. A few months of disdain will hardly break me."
It seemed ridiculous, from this side of his life, to think that Khili'ra had ever inspired anything as presumptuous as disdain. Even looking back at his own first reaction to him filled Aymeric with a sense of consternation. His first thought, upon meeting the Warrior of Light, vaunted hero of the Eorzean alliance, was: this man is very small . He may well be good at what he does -and I hope he is, for our own sake - but surely the praise he gathers, the titles he has accrued, is nothing more than an exaggeration of a triumphant triumvirate. More fool him. Khili'ra was all the good things they said of him - and more, for they never mentioned his quick wit and warm smile.
However - this seemed to be more than simple underestimation. The way that Khili'ra had phrased it - 'outcast'. That felt like a deeper hurt. Older.
Aymeric studied Khili'ra's face, hesitant to speak. "If I may ask… what do you mean by that?" he said slowly, ready to drop the subject in a second if Khili'ra showed a sign that that was what he wanted.
If anything, Khili'ra looked surprised. His eyebrows shift upwards before eventually settling into a slight furrow, his rueful smile returning.
"Ah… right. You wouldn't know much about Keeper ways out where you're from. Part of the reason I moved so far from the Shroud: you'd think I'd be used to it." He rolled his tankard in between his palms, considering.
"You don't need to answer if you'd rather not-" Aymeric began, but Khili'ra waved him off.
"It's fine. Not really much of a story. Keepers of the Moon, my people, a large difference between us and, say, Ishgard, is that the females are considered more important than the males. Matriarchs instead of your patriarchs."
"It's not as if Ishgard doesn't consider women to be important. They're an integral part of our culture, in all walks of life," he couldn't help but protest.
"Right, just as men in our culture are also valued for their contributions. But I couldn't help but notice in Ishgard the only women in a position of power gained it by unconventional means, and mostly were outsiders to begin with."
"That… may be true," Aymeric conceded, uncomfortable.
Khili'ra looked sidelong at him. "I'm not saying this to condemn your people. Both ways come with their own problems." He leaned forward to place his mug on the low table in front of them with deliberate movements. The tendons on the back of his hand stood up distractingly with the motion.
"For example, our family names are carried down through the motherline, so it's considered preferable to have a daughter to pass it down, trying several different mates if needed. If you're a male… well. Everything you do is in your mother's name." He looked up, head tilted to one side. "My mother is called Khili Tili. I am her fifth son. From the same man, no less. Quite scandalous, in a mostly traditional family, to have failed quite so many times."
"That's a heavy burden to carry for a child," Aymeric said, mouth dry.
Khili'ra shrugged. "You learn to shoulder it."
Thinking of Khili'ra - even smaller, then, young and easily hurt, knowing that he was unwanted and made to feel as if it was his own fault, as if he could have done anything to have change the circumstances of his birth - sent Aymeric's heart thudding painfully against his ribs. He knew that ache. Some parts of him carried it still. He shifted in his seat, a little closer to Khili'ra's side despite the heat of the evening.
Careful, dredging up every drop of eloquence in him that he usually saved for less important things such as leading a nation, Aymeric began: "As a bastard of the most important figure in all of Ishgard, I have been followed by malicious rumours from before I even fully understood them. Perhaps if it had been a better kept secret they would never have taken root. As it is, even if anyone had tried to shield me from it, the people around me would always find a way to remind me of the disgrace my very existence brought myself and my family - even though, now, as a man, I know the disgrace was never mine. I had to shore up my defences, learn to let the harsh words drift past me, or buckle under the weight of it all. I say this to you, my friend, not to speak over you, but to tell you now: I understand."
Khili'ra was openly staring up at him now, all of his attention heavy and devastating. It felt momentous and at the same time effortless to move his hand closer, their still-gloved fingers brushing.
"If you truly are unbothered by the unfair scrutiny of others, I am glad to know it," Aymeric continued, achingly sincere. "And I hope you know that I am here if you find that that is no longer the case. A burden like this is easier borne alongside those who truly and honestly care for you."
The way Khili'ra abruptly turned his head away sent a cold shiver through Aymeric's body. Did he overstep? Ask or offer too much? Then he noticed - their hands still touched.
"Yeah," Khili'ra said eventually. "When my father was still alive… It wasn't so hard. To deal with, I mean. Because he loved me despite it all. It was only when he was gone that I felt I had to leave." He chuckled, rueful, always rueful. "It's a little funny. I left my family because there was no love left for me there. But now… even if I am loved, I can't stay. Even if I really want to."
The moment shook in the air, full to the brim with shared, buried grief and fragile hope. In the face of everything Aymeric was not much one for praying, but now, with the space between them so narrow, he found a reason to.
"Is it not enough to have loved you?" He said, quiet. "To know your heart and, in knowing, change our own?" He spread his fingers wider, waited. "That if a time comes for rest, there will be someone willing to make space for you to lay your head?"
There was a time, long silent seconds, where neither of them moved. It's all Aymeric could do to keep breathing. Then -without warning - Khili'ra let out a shuddering sigh, tipping sideways to lean his forehead against Aymeric's arm, head still lowered.
"You really are so…" he didn't finish his half-murmured sentence. Instead his tail came up to circle lightly around Aymeric's wrist. It felt so soft where it touched the backs of his fingers. His hair, too, felt soft, the difference in texture between the stands and the fuzz on his twitching ears so strange and so wonderful as Aymeric coaxed his head to face upwards. Khili'ra followed the motion, then further up, pliable and sweet as he leaned down to kiss him.
The first touch was gentle, soft, as their lips fit together. The second was firmer. Then Khili'ra released a punched-out breath, and the next kiss was wet, his chapped lips opening to him like a night flower blooming. It felt like time was slipping away; all Aymeric could do was hold on, feeling the cool cheek under his fingertips slowly warm as they sunk deeper into each other. Any space at all between them seemed too much.
Apparently Khili'ra agreed, because at that moment he surged up, getting his knees under him on the seat to move closer. Something about his movement was unfortunately ill-timed - there was a sharp pain as the sharp tip of his long canine stabbed through Aymeric's lower lip. Aymeric pulled back with a hiss, raising his hand to his mouth.
"I'm so sorry," Khili'ra gasped out, tearing one of his gloves off and reaching forward as well. "Here, let me see-"
"It hardly hurts," Aymeric protested. He lowered his hand anyway.
Khili'ra bare fingers were gentle as he touched his lip. Aymeric could barely keep himself breathing as he watched purple eyebrows furrow in concentration. Then - a cool rush came forth, a sensation not unlike chewing on mint, and the pain was gone.
"I've had cause to learn a little healing," he murmured. Aymeric probed at the site of the cut and found it gone, the only proof it happened at all the tang of blood. And, he realised, a small scar on the inside of his lip, almost unnoticeable. Khili'ra looked sheepish, maybe even a little shy. "It's… a work in progress."
Aymeric smiled, charmed. "Thank you. I had never known that kissing could be so perilous."
"With me, it can be. I have been described as 'inordinately pointy'", Khili'ra said. He even made the quote marks with his fingers.
"Then I suppose I will simply have to be careful. I believe your mouth is well worth the risk within."
If anything, Khili'ra looked even more sheepish. "Ah - it's not just… the teeth." In a move that almost stopped the poor man's heart, he swung his leg over Aymeric's thigh and settled in his lap, and pressed his hips down - ha - pointedly. It took a second for the blood to return to Aymeric's brain - then he understood. He took another second to just breathe.
"Truly?"
Khili'ra nodded.
"...May I see?"
"Please," Khili'ra said, and leaned back to unbutton his trousers.
Somewhat embarrassingly, Aymeric's first thought was, huh. Strange . His second was, I want to touch it . That was the impulse that he followed. With the gentlest of touches he traced a fingertip down from the tapered tip to the wider base. It firmed further in his wake, and he watched raptly as the spines decorating its circumference extended into their full length. He had never seen anything like it. Strange, yes, but…
"Beautiful," he finished out loud to Khili'ra's startled chuckle. Perhaps he was cursed to uncharitable first impressions, but at least he could take comfort in his increased ability to get past them.
"That's a new one. Thank you kindly," Khili'ra smiled. "You have my full permission to admire it as long as you want."
"Thank you for the generous invitation," Aymeric said back, mock seriously, "But I rather hoped to do more than admire."
He moved to pull off his gloves, to feel skin on heated skin, when Khili'ra stopped his hand.
"You might want to keep those on. For the sake of your calluses, you understand."
Aymeric did. He also would rather forget the mental image that conjured. Luckily he had such a strong distraction right in front of him - to which he applied himself with enthusiasm. Barbs caught on leather with every upstroke, but as his hand got wetter and wetter the drag decreased until it was almost a haltless glide. He could still feel the bumps through his glove. It was like his whole world narrowed to a point; the circle of his hand, the strange, intense texture, the alluring sighs that Khili'ra released as he jerked him off, evenly and with building momentum. He wondered how it would feel inside him.
So entranced was he by the experience that when Khili'ra placed a hand over his he startled, squeezing reflexively. Khili'ra resulting groan faded into a warm chuckle. He let him pull his hand off and away, a little disappointed.
"Any more of that and I'll be done," Khili'ra smirked, "And I'm not ready to be done yet."
Keeping eye contact, he ran his tongue up Aymeric's palm, gathering up his own slick as he went. Aymeric's other hand gripped Khili'ra still-clothed thigh tightly.
"I should have stopped you earlier, but you looked like you were having so much fun," he continued around the fingers he drew into his mouth.
"I have to admit I found myself fascinated," Aymeric said, red-faced.
Khili'ra laughed again, pulling off his thumb with an audible sound. "I'm glad you feel that way. However," he sighed, faux put-upon, "I'll last about two minutes if you get any closer acquainted."
It truly was amazing, how closely their thoughts followed each other.
"Next time," Aymeric rasped.
A long, slow blink. Then, a warm crooked smile, as Khili'ra nuzzled against his now-clean hand. "Mm. Next time."
They met in the middle again, lips and tongue hot and lush where they pressed together. It was as though Aymeric was being pulled along by a strong current: where Khili'ra moved, he moved with him; where Khili'ra drew his hands, he touched and squeezed; when Khili'ra kissed him, he eagerly opened for him, sucking him in. He made it so easy to follow. To be led.
It was not surprising, therefore, when Khili'ra dragged Aymeric's hand up his thigh, bypassing his barbed dick and instead ending on the curve of his ass, then asked, huskily, "Bed?"
He would have to be insane to turn down such a request. Overcome with the urge to show off, Aymeric slid his hand further underneath him, hooked his other arm around Khili'ra's knee, and stood. It was worth the extra effort just to hear the startled, delighted laugh in his ear as Khili'ra clung to him. He sat heavily on the edge of the mattress and leaned down to taste his mouth once more. Aymeric felt foolish, and young, and happy . To share this fun and affection was a gift he refused to let go to waste.
Khili'ra's eyes were shining, framed in beloved crinkles, sharp teeth visible as he beamed up at him. "You are ridiculous ." He pressed two, three quick kisses against his mouth before pulling Aymeric's shirt over his head. The rest of their clothes followed, only interrupted by fumbling limbs and laughing kisses. Even fetching ungent was work of a moment. Khili'ra returned to his lap as if summoned back to ley lines.
Aymeric let Khili'ra lead his slicked fingers behind and finally - finally! - inside him. He was so hot on the inside, like he had swallowed a star and let it turn him molten; like he was a volcano, all that scorching heat held just under the surface. Khili'ra hummed, pleased. "Feels good," he sighed, pulling Aymeric down to kiss him again. Khili'ra wrapped his free hand around Aymeric's cock, palm slick with ungent as he stroked him.
His breath caught in his throat and he found himself holding it as Khili'ra raised himself to his knees. He couldn't be sure if he'd ever breathe again. The head of his cock pushed against Khili'ra's rim, and neither of them could look away as he slowly breached him. Suddenly it all felt so unreal; it couldn't be possible that a part of Aymeric was inside of him, right? But there, clear in the lamplight, his body stretched around him, steadily taking him further and further in, the width obscene compared to his compact form.
"I've thought of this," Khili'ra said. He'd braced one hand on Aymeric's shoulder and one on his thigh to keep his descent smooth and controlled. He continued, "Some nights I thought of little else, " close, like a secret. His mismatched eyes were squinting happily, almost closed.
Aymeric had to kiss him then. When he pulled back again, he said, "I already know it'll not leave my mind for some time." Both of their breaths were laboured as he finally bottomed out. It felt as if he held all of Aymeric's being in his tight, scorching heat.
Another smirk, somewhat smug. "Good."
It quickly became apparent that kissing while in this position would not be sustainable. While Khili'ra was at his highest point, up on his knees with only Aymeric's broad head stretching him wide, the two of them were of a height; when he had sat all the way back down, however, taking all of him down to the base, he could only reach his collarbones. Somewhat regretful, Aymeric gave up wet, dangerous kisses and instead curled forward to bite and suck at the side of his neck as he rode him with devastating movements.
Khili'ra's breaths came in sweet hums and sighs right against his ear. Aymeric could relate. Though he was by no means a virgin, he almost couldn't believe how good it felt to have his dear friend driving himself down into Aymeric's cock like it was all he ever wanted. Their bodies rocked together faster and faster as the sounds of their connection filled the room. He felt a touch on his lower stomach and saw that, now they had found their rhythm, Khili'ra had wrapped a scarred palm around his own erection to match it.
"Gods," Aymeric groaned, aiming a nip at the soft underside of Khili'ra's jaw. He expected Khili'ra's answering moan, which he was duly given. What he didn't expect was Khili'ra's hands on his chest pushing him slightly-less-than gently back on the bed. As he lay prone, a little stunned, Khili'ra smirked down at him.
"You're too tall," he teased, his hips still moving. "I wish to see you as I – ah – take you apart."
Aymeric's cheeks flushed further. He felt oddly shy. That the one he so admired desired him so…
"I please you, then?" He says between pants.
Khili'ra's eyes crinkle. "Endlessly."
The lamps in the room lit him up, his warm brown skin seeming even warmer like he was shining from within. Scattered droplets of sweat caught the light like stars. Aymeric didn't stop his hands from wandering, and neither did Khili'ra, abandoning touching his own cock in favour of touching Aymeric's solid waist, his muscled arms, even squeezing covetously at his pectorals as if they were breasts. All the while, his hole clenched and pulled in the thick cock inside him like it couldn't bear to not have it inside even for a second.
Their bodies met, over and over, the speed ratcheting higher and higher to match the heat rising higher and higher inside them, time passing swift and meaningless. Khili'ra's stamina truly was legendary; he showed no signs of tiring or slowing, even as his jaw began to slacken and his every breath came out a moan. Aymeric, on the other hand, was barely hanging on.
"Khi," he said, voice hoarse, "I'm– close–"
Khili'ra let out a strange half-groan. One of his hands flew back between them to furiously work over his own length. The other braced against the bed beside Aymeric's head and, curiously gentle, traced over his cheekbone. Abruptly, that did it. It was as if that tenderness had cracked him in half and let everything flood out of him in a tidal wave. His back arched and his fingers tightened bruisingly on Khili'ra's strong thighs. He hardly even heard the long guttural groans he was letting out, too caught up in spilling deep inside the clutch of his lover's tight hole.
Taken apart, indeed.
It took what felt like hours but was probably only moments to come back to himself. When he did, he opened eyes he didn't remember closing to see something wild in Khili'ra's expression.
"Menphina's grace ," Khili'ra said, breathless, staring, then, "I'm almost– just a little more, I– let me–?" His hand was still moving between them, and his hips were twitching, obviously yearning to thrust again. In response, Aymeric pushed up against him, encouraging him to make use of what remained of his erection before it went down. He didn't need a second sign.
It nearly was too much, oversensitive almost to the point of pain. Aymeric set his jaw and bore with it, unwilling to lose this moment for anything. Khili'ra wasn't lying when he said he was almost over the edge; his cock was shiny and wet between his fingers, even the barbs, and he was listing forward more and more until he was braced on one forearm, still thrusting back frantically without pause. The wet noise of their bodies meeting was downright filthy now. Aymeric's spend stirred and frothed and overflowed with every desperate movement. He felt Khili'ra's hot breath against his chest, his lips parted and catching on his skin as he chased his own ending.
For a moment, Aymeric worried that it was going to take too long, he wasn't going to reach it – then he cried out, clutching Khili'ra's damp curls in a fist, a sharp pain on his pectoral as his overworked length was suddenly clutched in a vice grip. All of his nerves were set alight. If it were possible he'd topple over the edge again, take leave of all his senses. Instead, he closed his eyes and shuddered.
It's not hard to tell when Khili'ra regained clarity. His incisors disengaged from Aymeric's skin, and he slowly raised his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said, hoarse. His lips were tinted red.
Aymeric took his hand and placed it over the bite. "No apologies needed," he said, then: "You can heal it, if you want."
Khili'ra frowned. "It'll scar."
Aymeric only smiled.
After a long, long moment he felt the cool mint flow of magic spread through his chest, just as intimate as everything that came before. There was a scar, just as he had been warned. But he felt so warm; how could he do anything but touch it and smile, again, still?
Apparently Khili'ra felt something the same. At least, that's the impression Aymeric gained from suddenly receiving an armful of Miqo'te. Khili'ra rolled them onto their sides (finally dislodging Aymeric's soft length from inside him) and pressed his heated face to his collarbone.
"You're incredible," he mumbled, nearly indistinct.
"Likewise," Aymeric said back.
They lay like that for a while, breaths slowing and bodies cooling - as much as they could in this damnable weather, anyway. Then, utterly undignified and utterly uncaring of it, Khili'ra squirmed upwards, pulling himself to a position where they could lie face to face. The penitent look in his eye was gone completely and replaced by the determined gleam that always made Aymeric's heart beat faster.
"Next time will be even better," he said. "No blood at all, I promise."
The Warrior of Light, treating their trysts with the seriousness that he usually reserved for defeating creatures as tall as the holy Vault. What else could he do but kiss him again? What else could he have done but love him?