Chapter Text
The Quicksand. Each and every adventurer that passed through Ul’dah found themselves beneath its eaves, and Kairon Tumet had been no different. Years back, after Cartenau and his discharge from the Immortal Flames, before he’d learned of his role as the Warrior of Light, he’d stepped into this very bar. His anniversary of that day was the perfect excuse to celebrate. Kairon would never pass up such an opportunity, especially after all that transpired on the First. Everyone of them sorely needed a break, and perhaps Kairon most of all. He was looking forward to a night with his friends, drinking, eating, and maybe even a tumble.
Thancred had been the one to suggest the Quicksand. It would have been thematically appropriate, he'd said, that they should celebrate back where it all began for Kairon's adventuring anniversary. And, of course, the Quicksand was one of his and Kairon's favorite haunts in the early days in Ul'dah. Kairon was looking forward to reliving those days, even if things were certainly far different now than they were when he and Thancred spent their first night out here. It would no longer be just the two of them, for one, and Kairon would be glad for the company. Though, there was one person he was looking forward to spending the evening with the most.
He hoped G'raha Tia would be well enough to join them. The Miqo'te had been up and about just a few days hence, but Kairon was still concerned. How much of that soul fusion had curdled was unclear to him and G'raha had been bedridden for days after the initial attempt, leaving Kairon sick with worry and the Scions stuck temporarily in Mor Dhona. G'raha, now, seemed to be well enough and that was another cause for celebration.
Kairon should have considered Momodi making plans of her own when she discovered their plans. Tonight, it was positively bustling. Momodi, behind Kairon's back, had invited nearly every adventurer that had passed through her doors in the past decade it seemed. For the first bell after he arrived, Kairon was absolutely swarmed by adventurers, both veterans and sprouts, wanting to meet him and seeking advice. More than one of them bought him drinks. He was already drunk, even after passing plenty of the drinks over to Thancred.
“Well, I didn't realize it would be this packed,” Thancred remarked. “But I suppose I should have known better.”
“Momodi's doing, no doubt.” He slurred, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“No doubt,” agreed Thancred with a smile.
“There you are!” Alisaie appeared from out of the crowd, Alphinaud at her side as always, and Y'shtola close behind. The twins gawked in shock at the table, cluttered as it was with empty mugs and glasses.
“My word!” exclaimed Alphinaud. “Have you drunk all the liquor in Ul'dah?”
“Nearly,” replied Thancred.
“I shall get us a meal,” sighed Y'shtola. She turned to the crowd with dread before she disappeared again.
Alisaie and Alphinaud took their seats at the table. They pushed aside some of the mugs, stacked some of the glasses, and otherwise made room for themselves. Neither Kairon nor Thancred lifted a finger to help.
“Is there something I'm missing?” Alphinaud asked. “Who are these people?”
“Adventurers,” explained Kairon. “All part of Momodi's flock, just like me.”
Alisaie looked around. “Surely you don't know them all.”
“Not a one,” laughed Kairon.
“We've been stuck in this corner since we got here,” Thancred elaborated. “Each and every one here wanted to meet our heroic friend. Shake his hand. Ask for guidance. Buy him a drink. Offer their daughter’s hand in marriage. You know. The usual.”
“By the Fury,” muttered Alisaie. She focused her attention on Kairon. “It's not too much?”
“Nearly.” Kairon replied. He knew she was asking about the crowd and all the attention lavished on him. “I could always step outside.”
She nodded. Y’shtola returned, then, with a platter of food: Cured meats, pickled vegetables, heavily spiced and candied nuts. Kairon immediately shoved a handful of the salty meat in his gullet, far too drunk and hungry to care for decorum. They all settled into a familiar rhythm at the table. The conversation was hardly interrupted when Urianger finally arrived. They ordered more drinks and more food. Kairon fell into his usual, contented silence as conversation continued among his friends, leaning back into his chair and stretching out his long legs. He enjoyed this—watching and listening to his friends’ conversation at the table. And yet…it wasn't quite right. Someone was missing.
Kairon hoped G'raha Tia would've been the very first to arrive. Well, after Thancred, he supposed, since the two of them had walked into The Quicksand together. He thought back to how excited G’raha was at the mention of partying in a place where adventurers gathered; where Kairon began his journey. The Miqo'te had been mysterious, however, leading up to the day. More than once he mentioned something about procuring a “special item;” and had asked Kairon a few clarifying questions about his homeland, specifically about what they ate and drank. Kairon almost missed the connection. Fury, if G'raha Tia came into The Quicksand with a bladder of kumis! The thought almost made him laugh to himself. He doubted any of his companions would enjoy it, but it would be worth it to see their faces.
As if conjured by Kairon's thoughts, G'raha Tia finally made his appearance at the table. He looked flustered, out of breath and cheeks flushed as if he'd been running. Still, Kairon couldn't help his smile when he saw him.
“Apologies,” breathed G'raha. “I was delayed. But! I come with a gift!” He triumphantly held aloft a bloated wine-skin.
Kairon straightened so suddenly in his chair that his knees knocked against the edge of the table. His companions instinctively gripped the table to steady it, a few hands snapping out to catch bottles as they were knocked askew.
“No!” Kairon exclaimed with a laugh. “Tell me that isn't what I think it is.”
G'raha's ears twitched at his reaction. “To be honest,” he said. “I'm not sure. I've- well, I've never seen it before. I came across descriptions of kumis when I read about the tribes of the Azim Steppes, but I suppose I was expecting it to come in a bottle.”
Alisaie made a face. “ Kumis? ”
Kairon laughed once more. G'raha found a seat at the crowded table, squeezed in between Alphinaud and Urianger, across from Thancred.
“Pardon,” Alphinaud asked. “But what is ‘kumis’?’”
“Something horrific,” supplied Alisaie.
“It's not all that bad.” Kairon protested. He felt the need to defend the drinks’ honor, even if it really was only meant to store milk for as long as possible. Alisaie sighed and slumped in her chair.
“It's a mildly alcoholic drink,” continued Kairon. “Made from fermented beast milk. Typically dzo or from mares.”
A round of confused and curious sounds rolled around the table at Kairon's explanation.
“Truly?” Thancred asked with an incredulous laugh.
“I should like to try it,” Y'shtola said. “I had not the opportunity when we visited your home, busy as I was.”
“Rebuffing Magnai, you mean.” Kairon offered with a teasing grin. He was too drunk to be concerned about the look she gave him over the rim of her wineglass.
“Well,” said G'raha. “I believe Kairon should have the first drink. He would be the best judge of its authenticity. And—well, correct me if I'm wrong, Kairon, but, among the Tumet, is the mightiest warrior not entitled to the first drink of kumis?”
Kairon was silent for a moment, clenching his jaw. Finally, he nodded. Among the Tumet, Kairon's people, the strong were always entitled to the first of any food or drink. G'raha was trying to honor his traditions, even if it did dredge up memories of an almost entirely different person in the process. The Miqo'te smiled as he passed the skin of kumis over to Kairon, who took it with a nod.
“You're supposed to remove the stopper first.” Kairon teased.
“Oh!” G'raha exclaimed. His ears shot straight up and then flattened against his head. “My apologies!”
Kairon waved him off, popped the bladder open, and sniffed. It was kumis. Absolutely. It smelled sour and the color was the usual, translucent white. He drank deep of the kumis. It was sour, not quite as sour as it smelled, and slightly foamy; the taste of the alcohol was almost non-existent. The kumis brought him back to the steppes: he was suddenly much younger, giving his brother his first taste of kumis after their first hunt together. When he came back, his new family was looking at him expectantly.
“It's kumis,” he said with a smile. “Traditionally, we'd drink it before we ate, but there's no other Xaela here to complain.” He reached across Thancred to pass it off to Y'shtola next.
“Have I just been slighted?” Thancred asked.
“You challenge her to bökh,” said Kairon with a grin. “For the honor of having the second drink.”
Thancred and Y'shtola eyed each other for a moment, before Thancred sighed and folded his arms. Y'shtola smiled smugly, drank from the bladder, and made a sound of abject confusion.
“I daresay,” she said. “That is not what I expected it to taste like. You said it was made from fermented milk?” Kairon nodded. “Strange. I am not entirely sure I like it.”
“An acquired taste, perhaps?” G'raha asked her, though he was looking at Kairon, who simply nodded.
Y'shtola hummed. She eyed Thancred for a moment, before handing off the kumis to Urianger. Kairon grinned at the potential chaos this would cause. It didn't really matter anymore who drank from it in what order, since the first and second had already been decided. Now, it was just a cause for amusement.
“Since Estinien isn't here,” Y'shtola explained.
“I thank thee,” said Urianger solemnly as he took the offered kumis. “T’would seem I am in no position to question thy logic, and I am certain that to do so would bring dishonor.”
Thancred huffed. “Of course you’d pass it to the person sitting next to you. You should've given it to Alisaie or Raha.”
“Well!” Alphinaud protested. “Pardon me!” Urianger made a pleased noise once he drank the kumis. “I hadn't realized that you, Thancred, were the judge!”
“Maybe if you were a bit taller,” teased Thancred. “Alas, you have not the mien of a warrior.”
Alphinaud sputtered, unable to form a retort. The kumis was passed over next to G'raha without hesitation from Urianger. Thancred folded his arms, but made no protest. G'raha glanced at Kairon before he drank from the bladder. Kairon watched him in turn. He didn't know if he wanted G’raha to like it or not, but, regardless, he found he was invested in the Miqo'te's reaction. G'raha's ears twitched with delight: he seemed to enjoy it. Kairon smiled, more pleased than he realized he would be with this knowledge.
“ Alright, G'raha Tia,” said Alphinaud. “ Choose wisely. ”
Both Thancred and Alphinaud looked at him expectantly. Alisaie, glancing at Kairon, sighed and straightened in her seat. G'raha looked between the three of them, then at Kairon for silent guidance.
“Don't look at him!” Thancred protested.
Kairon's eyes quickly darted to Alisaie before they returned to G'raha's face. G'raha quickly handed off the kumis to Alisaie. The three of them—Thancred, Alisaie, and Alphinaud—all groaned.
“I suppose I should,” muttered Alisaie sullenly.
“Come now,” said Urianger. “If thou wouldst open thy mind and thy palate, I am certain thou wouldst find it is quite delicious.”
“I wouldn't go that far,” said Y'shtola. “Tolerable, certainly, if I can be honest.” She looked in Kairon's direction. He simply shrugged good naturedly.
“It's no secret.” He said to assure her she hadn't offended him. “Kumis is an acquired taste.”
Alisaie took a deep breath and quickly drank from the bladder. With a full body shiver, she thrust it to Alphinaud who was seated beside her. Kairon suspected that was the only reason he got it before Thancred. Otherwise, Alisaie would never have passed up the opportunity to rile up her brother.
“I see how it is,” Thancred grumbled.
“Well,” laughed Alphinaud. “You simply do not have the mien of a warrior.” He drank the kumis and immediately turned green.
“ By the Fury ,” he choked. Kairon could not help but laugh as Alphinaud all but threw it across the table in Thancred's direction.
“I'm not so sure I want this now,” Thancred remarked, but he drank the kumis nonetheless. He paused in thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I've definitely had worse. I was hoping it would be stronger.”
“You're meant to drink it on an empty stomach.” Kairon explained. “You would get the full effects that way.”
The kumis made its way around the table until the skin was drained. Kairon, Urianger, and Raha drank the majority of it, with Thancred seemingly beginning to actually enjoy it near the end. Y'shtola drank only out of politeness, and the twins abstained. Kairon was almost sad to see the kumis gone; it was such a thoughtful gift. He hoped the drunken smile he sent G'raha's way would express his gratitude, and that the smile G'raha sent back meant he understood.
Thancred ordered more drinks to make up for the loss of the kumis. That was when Krile and Tataru finally arrived. They both reacted with similar shock at the number of mugs, glasses, and empty bottles; the empty plates and platters. Another pair of stools were squished up against the table for the new arrivals.
“Unfortunately,” said Y'shtola dryly to them once they'd settled. “You missed the kumis.”
Krile looked at her quizzically, but Tataru looked disappointed.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “I was hoping to try it! After all the trouble Raha and I went through to procure it, too.” Her face suddenly lit up. “But I know how we can make up for its loss!”
Tataru's Triple Triad deck appeared on the table. Kairon gasped in delight and produced his deck, as did the twins and Urianger. The rest of the table groaned. Thancred poured them all drinks: they'd be here all night, it seemed. Quickly, Kairon, Tataru, Alisaie, Alphinaud, and Urianger decided on a round-robin tournament to determine the Ultimate Champion of the Quicksand. Krile was recruited to tally the points: three to the victor and two for a tie. Whoever came out of it with the most points at the end would be declared the champion and would have bragging rights until a new champion arose. It ultimately ended up being the most depressing tournament of all tournaments. Tataru swept, coming out of the end with twelve points. Not a single loss. She still remained undefeated from their last tournament, and the tournament before that as well. Kairon was hoping to at least tie a round with her, but that wasn't to be. He lost to Alphinaud, as well, and was subjected to the most smug face he'd seen lately from the Elezen. Then, tying with both Urianger and Alisaie, left him with a measly four points. Urianger, somehow, managed to tie with everyone except Tataru, ending with six points. Alisaie beat her brother; her only victory, but one she savored. She ended her run with five points, the same as Alphinaud. This put Kairon dead last in the tournament. It was an absolutely miserable showing, and the only one who seemed happy with the outcome was Tataru.
“I might have to quit Triple Triad altogether.” Kairon grumbled.
Thancred clapped him on the shoulder and pressed a beer into his hand. “Just blame the alcohol. You're three sheets to the wind, as they say.”
Kairon huffed out a small laugh. The beer wasn't really doing it for him anymore, but he drank anyway. And found himself gazing over the rim of the glass at G'raha Tia. The Miqo'te was engrossed in the twins’ game to decide the ultimate winner between them (in spite of the fact that it was Alisaie that had won the head to head). His round cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and from smiling; the candlelight flickered in his ruby, red eyes and hair. Kairon knew he was staring by the way Thancred nudged him. His attraction to G'raha wasn't a secret between them and Thancred treated it with the proper empathy.
“You should do something,” said Thancred in a voice low enough that only Kairon could hear. “Before you regret never having done anything.”
Kairon sighed. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. In truth, Kairon was nervous. Maybe even afraid. Anytime he thought about making a move on G'raha, his brain happily reminded him how much he absolutely bungled his relationship with Aymeric, his fumbling attempts with Lyse; and did G’raha even see Kairon as anything other than the Warrior of Light? You’re taking advantage of him, he told himself. Or, that’s not him talking right now, that’s the Exarch. But that isn’t that what you wanted all along isn’t it?
No. Tonight would be the night. Anything could happen tomorrow.
“I will,” replied Kairon. Surely it was the alcohol.
The group stayed in the Quicksand until well past midnight. Thancred was the first to get carted away by Y'shtola and Urianger. He was practically in a stupor, though Urianger and Y'shtola were far from sober themselves. Kairon felt triumphant when he watched them leave, knowing he'd beaten Thancred this night: he was still conscious. The table contracted, everyone scooting to close in on Kairon's side of the table. The twins stayed for another bell or so before they left. Tataru and Krile stuck around for much longer. Kairon relished it, though he was beginning to hope they would fuck off so he could have G'raha to himself. Especially now that the object of his affection was seated beside him. Eventually, they left as well, but not without giving Kairon and G'raha a firm hug.
It was just Kairon and G'raha at the table now. Still drunk, far more than he realized, Kairon's head swam. He turned carefully to face G'raha, smiling broadly when he saw how the smaller man's cheeks were a pretty pink.
“I should thank you.” Kairon began. “The kumis was a thoughtful gift and it couldn't have been easy to acquire, even in Ul'dah.”
“It wasn't,” laughed G'raha. “In truth, I have been in a panic the past few days. I wasn’t able to get the kumis until today and then I wasn't sure if it was the right thing.” He looked up at Kairon, still shorter than him even when they both were sitting. “But it was all worth it if you enjoyed it.”
Kairon's smile widened. The blush spread across Raha's cheeks. Kairon wanted to kiss him, especially now after the wonderful night they'd just shared; especially now that he finally had G'raha all to himself. He thought it was mutual, the attraction. Maybe. Probably. They had conversations in the First that Kairon was never sure whether or not he was overthinking or reading too much into. Or whether or not that still counted. And they shared so many looks and secret smiles lately. Definitely, probably mutual. Even if neither of them had really acted on it, too busy, perhaps. No more overthinking.
“Can I kiss you?” Kairon asked.
G'raha's ears flicked up, standing straight atop his head, and a soft gasp escaped his lips. His red eyes darted briefly over Kairon's face.
“You're drunk,” he said quietly.
“So are you,” replied Kairon, pressing on. “And drunk or sober, I'd still want to kiss you. What else would I do with a handsome Miqo'te?”
G'raha swallowed thickly. His face was so red, Kairon was briefly concerned he'd pass out. He glanced away from Kairon for a moment, seemingly battling with something, before he looked back at the big Au Ra and nodded. A thrill of excitement raced through Kairon and a grin spread across his face. Balancing himself against the back of G'raha's chair, he cupped G'raha's jaw and kissed him. Their lips met only briefly, but Kairon still felt a growl bubble up in his throat at the almost teasing touch of G'raha's soft lips against his. Kairon could feel G'raha's heavy breathing against his face, smiling crookedly at him when his red eyes blinked open. Kairon wanted more. He kissed G'raha again, deeper and more forceful. G'raha gasped sharply through his nose. His hands shot up to Kairon's face, the rough pads of his fingers feeling the edges of Kairon's sharp scales. Their lips moved together clumsily at first, until they both found a way to fit together. Kairon took advantage of the motions of their lips to slip his tongue into G'raha's mouth. G'raha moaned and then almost immediately pulled away. That small moan shot through Kairon's system and his tail lashed involuntarily, but this time he didn't chase G'raha. He gave the Miqo'te space, knowing he'd pushed a bit, and was rewarded by seeing how round G'raha's feline pupils had become.
“S-sorry,” stuttered G'raha. “I've never—I didn't expect that.” His hands clutched the hem of the embroidered fabric that hung over his trousers.
Kairon shook his head. “You don't have to apologize. It was cute.”
G'raha's ears wiggled with delight. Kairon smiled at that: he loved how expressive G'raha's ears were. Kairon felt like being bold. Maybe it was the dark knight in him that would make him fearless when he most needed it. Maybe it was the alcohol.
“Raha,” he said. “Let's get a room.”
G'raha sputtered, “Uh, a-a room?” His eyes darted around the Quicksand, half-full as it was. Anywhere but Kairon's face.
“You can say ‘no,’” Kairon assured him quickly. He wanted him to say yes, even if it didn't lead to sex. This night couldn't end yet; he wasn't willing to say goodbye to G'raha until the sun was up.
“Let's get you a room,” said G'raha, finally looking at him. “It's not as if you could walk home.”
Kairon smiled. They both got up from the table, Kairon having to pause to steady himself and G'raha having to steady the table when Kairon inevitably bumped into it. They retired to Kairon's reserved inn room, G'raha helping him walk steady down the hall, an arm around his hips. The first thing Kairon shed when they arrived in the room was his greatsword. He never went anywhere without it, especially given his history, and it was a familiar weight across his back and shoulders, as much a part of him as any limb. Once he was free of its weight, he dropped onto the bed. G'raha watched him, his tail twisting and coiling behind him. Kairon watched him as well, even as the room pitched around him.
“I never,” began G'raha. “Imagined I would be here, in the place where it all started for you.”
Kairon gave him a wry smile. “Well, I was pretty rude to you the first time we met. I thought you were full of shit.”
G'raha laughed and closed the distance between them. “I was more referring to the hundred years I spent trying to summon you to the First.”
Kairon hummed in understanding. He slipped his hands around G'raha's waist and pulled him close. Or tried to. G'raha placed his hands on Kairon's shoulders, effectively stopping them from coming any closer together than where he stood between Kairon's knees. Kairon frowned at him.
“Do you realize how drunk you are?” G'raha asked. Kairon's frown deepened. “I will stay here with you, but this is as far as I am willing to go while you're this inebriated.”
Kairon's frown transformed into a scowl. G'raha's ears tucked back against his head in response.
“We already kissed,” grumbled Kairon.
G'raha's face turned apologetic. “That, um, that was the heat of the moment. I thought maybe you were alright, but I had to help you walk here, Kai.”
Kairon softened at the use of his nickname. He huffed out a sigh and dropped his forehead against G'raha's chest. G'raha let him pull him close this time. The Miqo'te's fingers dragged through Kairon's messy, dark hair, the tips dyed green. He began to drift to sleep, his face buried in G'raha's chest and enveloped in his smell.
~
Kairon woke to pain and nausea. He groaned, screwing his eyes shut against the dim light that filtered in through the windows. His head was pounding and he had to piss, but he didn't want to get up. When had he fallen asleep last night? He remembered getting to his room, remembered G'raha Tia was in here with him at some point; he remembered putting his sword up against the wall, but he didn't remember removing his boots or his coat, or lying down on his stomach beneath the sheets. Did G'raha stick around? With a groan, Kairon eased himself up onto his elbows. He was alone in the room. Fantastic. Why would G'raha stick around after that embarrassing display last night? His brain happily replayed the memory of G'raha guiding him down the hallway, struggling to keep Kairon's freakishly tall body upright; G'raha turning him down, politely pushing him away when Kairon pulled him close; G'raha admitting to only kissing him in the heat of the moment. He dropped his forehead down against the pillow and sighed. He was such a jackass.
Eventually, the need to piss got Kairon out of bed. Thank Halone for the chamber pot under the bed. And for the pitcher of cool water on the table across the room. Kairon drank greedily directly from the pitcher. He sat on the floor by the table, sharp chin in his hand. His boots were neatly placed by the door and his coat was carefully folded on top of the low table nearby. Kairon blinked. G'raha's scarf was there, too, and his outer coat as well. His eyes shifted to the door. Maybe he hadn't left? Maybe he just stepped out for a moment? Why else would he leave some of his clothing behind?
Kairon, blessedly, wasn't left wondering for long. Within a few minutes of his recent discoveries, he heard familiar footsteps beyond the door; the lock turning. He watched as G'raha Tia stepped into the room, carrying a platter of food and a pot of what Kairon hoped to the fucking heavens was fucking coffee. G'raha smiled brightly at him and Kairon couldn't help but return that smile.
“Good morning,” said G'raha. He looked good in his simple trousers and soft, gray shirt. There was no hiding the well-developed muscles of his forearms or the way his shoulders and pectorals moved beneath his loose shirt. The tip of Kairon’s tail twitched as he was briefly blessed with the vision of his hands slipping beneath the open collar of G’raha’s shirt.
“Good morning,” replied Kairon, voice rough.
G'raha gave him a pitying look as he placed the platter on the table above Kairon's head.
“What are you doing down there?” G'raha asked him with amusement.
“Sometimes,” explained Kairon. “You just have to sit on the floor. You should try it.”
G'raha laughed. After a moment's thought, he brought the platter and the pot down to the floor, and sat cross-legged across from Kairon. The food looked like traditional Ul'dahn fare: salt-roasted aldgoat and popotoes, accompanied this time by some flatbread and imported rolanberry jam. G'raha poured Kairon a cup from the pitcher.
“Coffee,” said Kairon with reverence. “You, my friend, are my champion.”
G'raha blushed. “I knew you would want something to eat and drink when you woke up, and I knew it would be coffee you would crave. The amount of coffee and tea you drink is frankly concerning.”
Kairon sipped the coffee, already beginning to feel like a person again. He made no reply to G'raha's comment, only giving him a good-natured smile, too busy watching the top of his trapezius muscles move beneath the loose collar of his shirt as he reached for some of the aldgoat. Kairon watched him eat in silence while he sipped his coffee. He didn't have much of an appetite. Not at the moment, at least. Eventually, sitting up became too much of a chore and Kairon laid back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
“Are you alright?” G'raha asked him.
Kairon simply nodded in response and closed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Well into the afternoon,” replied G'raha. “Our friends were inquiring about you. They'll certainly pleased to find out that you and Thancred both survived the night. That competitiveness will be the death of both of you one day.”
Kairon laughed a little. He cracked an eye open to regard G'raha from over the edge of his horn.
“Well,” he joked. “That's what we keep you around for, isn't it?”
A small smile twisted across G'raha's face. “Is that to be my role? Caring for the drunk Warrior of Light and his equally drunk friend?”
“Just me,” said Kairon. “Don't worry about Thancred—someone else will take care of him.” G'raha huffed with amusement. “All joking aside,” continued Kairon. “I want to apologize for what happened last night. I made a fool of myself.”
“Not to worry,” replied G'raha with a soft smile. “We all needed it, but you especially. I could see your stress, even when we were in Mor Dhona. You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me.”
Kairon's gaze returned to the ceiling. He sighed.
“About that kiss,” he began tentatively. “When you said it was the heat of the moment, did you mean that?”
G'raha didn't immediately respond. Kairon could hear him moving, could see it out of the corner of his eye as the Miqo'te drank from his cup. Clenching his jaw against the embarrassment that came from vulnerability, Kairon closed his eyes once more.
“In a way,” said G'raha, finally. His voice was quiet and he picked his words carefully. “I might not have, had I realized how drunk you were.” He paused briefly to take a breath. “However...I cannot say it was something I didn't want.”
Kairon opened his eyes and turned to face G'raha until his horn scraped irritatingly against the floor. G'raha's face was red and he stared pointedly into his coffee.
“I meant it,” Kairon assured him. “I wanted to kiss you, drunk or not.” G'raha's blush deepened. Kairon sighed and continued, “I'd like to try again. Sober this time. If you want to.”
“Of course!” G'raha blurted. “I mean, yes. I-I've considered this, um, you know, being with you. But you're, well, you're a bit larger than life.”
Kairon smirked at him. “Well, I am nearly two full fulms taller than you.” G'raha scowled at him and Kairon laughed. Kairon softened and said, “I've often considered the same.”
Relief washed over G'raha. Massive relief. Kairon saw it in the way his shoulder dropped and his tail unfurl onto the floor. Kairon cocked an eyebrow at him, confused. Shouldn't he—Kairon—be the one who was relieved?
“I was worried,” G'raha began to explain once he noticed Kairon's expression. “That maybe you only did, um, did those things last night because you were drunk.”
“It didn't come from nowhere.” Kairon assured him once more. He eased himself up onto an elbow, ignoring the wave of nausea and pounding headache. “I was drunk, sure, and horny, but I've wanted you since I figured out who you were back on the First. That's certainly why I invited you to come to my room.”
G'raha's ears flicked up in apparent surprise. Kairon grinned at him.
“Don't act so innocent,” he teased. “You accepted my invitation.”
G'raha thrust his hands up defensively. “I did nothing untoward! Especially once it was clear I had to help you walk!”
“And still we both ended up in my room. What did you think I wanted when I asked you to join me?”
G'raha put his hands over his burning face, trapped. Kairon laughed with amusement, but decided to free Raha from his torment. Gently, Kairon took hold of G'raha's wrists, pulling his hands away from his face.
“I’m teasing,” he said while he held G'raha's hands in his. “Still, though, thank you for walking me back to my room and for bringing me breakfast.”
G'raha's blush deepened and he seemingly was unable to look Kairon in the eyes. “It's what any decent man would do. I did nothing special.”
“Still.” Kairon insisted.
He watched G'raha's face as a brief stretch of silence hung in the air between them. Eventually, the Miqo'te looked at him with a small smile that Kairon couldn't help but mirror. He wanted to kiss him. And more than that, much more. Kairon wanted to fuck him. He wanted to push him to the floor and tug off those trousers and make G’raha scream for him, but he couldn't let his overactive libido do any more damage than it already had. G'raha's affection for him felt delicate in Kairon's hands and he already felt as though he had nearly broken it last night. Even if G'raha behaved otherwise.
“Kai?” G'raha asked quietly, his apple cheeks a pretty pink. “Can I kiss you?”
Kairon's smile transformed into a toothy grin. His tail flicked.
“Of course,” he replied.
G'raha's ears twitched. He swallowed, seemingly to build up a bit of courage, and then closed his eyes as he tentatively leaned up to kiss Kairon. Kairon met him halfway, unable to sit still and just let G'raha kiss him. Their lips met with a soft sigh, but a growl still threatened to tear free from Kairon's throat even with such a chaste touch. The scales of his tail scraped loudly against the floorboards in the relative quiet of the room as it spasmed behind him. He restrained himself from deepening the kiss too quickly; from yanking G'raha into his lap; from biting him. G'raha pulled away and Kairon reluctantly let him go, though the Miqo'te's breath on his face felt almost like bait to lure him in.
“Kiss me,” whispered G'raha, mere ilms away from Kairon's face. “Like you did last night.”
That was it. Kairon didn't need any more encouragement than that. He released G'raha's hands, having forgotten he was still holding them, and cupped his face. With one decisive motion, Kairon's tongue was past G'raha's lips and in his mouth. Kairon greedily swallowed the whimper that spilled out of him. G'raha's hands gripped Kairon's strong thighs as he balanced himself over the forgotten food and coffee. Kairon needed him closer. He wanted to feel G'raha's body pressed against his. G'raha seemed to read his thoughts and gracefully closed the distance to slide into Kairon's lap. Their mouths only parted for the moment it took G'raha to move, and then Kairon was back to devouring him. One of his hands tangled in G'raha's red hair and his other pressed against the small of his back, forcing them even closer together. G'raha’s fingers bumped over the sharp scales of Kairon's jaw, traced them down his throat, and found the open collar of his shirt. Kairon finally released a low growl at the feeling of G'raha's rough hands on his skin; G'raha answered with a moan.
Arousal tingled down Kairon's spine and set his nerves alight. He was wet already and his blood was hot. Scorching. G'raha's mouth, his sighs and moans, the heat radiating off him, the muscles moving beneath cloth and skin were all fuel. Kairon pushed G'raha onto the floor, rolling on top of him. The sudden movement forced their mouths apart and a startled gasp out of G'raha. Kairon's momentum was cut short, however, when G'raha's hands shot up to push against his shoulders.
“Wait!” G'raha gasped.
His face was flushed, pupils blown wide and ears tucked back against his head, pulse pounding in his throat. Kairon felt like he was getting mixed signals, but, of course, he obeyed. That fear he was pushing too far and going too fast crept up on him again. But G'raha didn't push him away completely.
“Should I get up?” Kairon asked, voice husky with arousal, but still unsure.
G'raha swallowed. “I don't know. I mean, no, you do not have to. It's just that, just- I do not know what you have in mind.”
Kairon let them both breathe for a moment. He gave G'raha space—as much as he could as he hovered over him with a knee in between G'raha's thighs.
“Neither do I,” said Kairon finally with a crooked smile. “All that I know is that I want you, but I do not want to go any further than you want to go.”
G'raha took a deep, shaky breath. His hands slid down from Kairon's shoulders to the Au Ra’s chest, his fingers pressing against the muscles beneath Kairon's shirt. Kairon, unable to stop himself, flexed.
“Are you sure you don't want me to get up?” Kairon asked, though he luxuriated in G'raha's touch.
G'raha shook his head. “No. I think I enjoy this.”
“You think,” echoed Kairon.
“I do,” insisted G'raha more firmly.
“In that case,” purred Kairon, more satisfied now that he knew G'raha was on board. “Would you like me to continue?”
“Yes,” replied G'raha emphatically.
Kairon lowered himself down to his elbows, closing the distance between them once more. He started off slow to build back up all the heat and momentum they lost; his lips moving softly against G'raha's. G'raha hummed into the kiss, his fluffy tail curling up against Kairon's calf. His hands moved down Kairon's chest to his ribs, then across his back. Encouraged by his wandering hands, Kairon deepened the kiss and let a bit of his weight drop down on top of him. G'raha moaned, this time bold enough to slide his tongue into Kairon's mouth. Kairon returned the kiss with a growl. Arousal sparked in his nerves again, his blood rushing through him. He strained against his self-imposed restraints; he wanted more; he wanted to take. And yet, he went at G'raha's pace. Each time he'd pushed previously, G'raha stopped him, slowed him down and broke his momentum. So he reined himself in and forced himself to follow G'raha's lead.
G'raha tightened his arms around Kairon's torso, pulling him closer. Kairon took that as an invitation and let his full weight fall on top of him. A small moan slipped out of G'raha and it lanced through Kairon’s blood. An answering growl rumbled low in his throat. One of Kairon's hands wandered down G'raha's torso and slipped under his shirt, seeking skin. Kairon broke away, only to plant wet kisses along G'raha's jaw and nip his exposed neck. G'raha shivered. Kairon tasted G'raha's skin, the salt in his sweat, as he sucked G'raha's flesh into his mouth. G'raha gasped sharply in response and let out a withering moan. His hips twitched against Kairon's thigh. With that small movement, it all became frantic. Kairon was on fire. Lightheaded. He mirrored G'raha's movement, his own hips grinding down against G'raha's thigh. G'raha whined. He matched Kairon's pace; their hips moving together. Kairon craved the friction, even if it was just the fabric of his undergarments over the edges of his slit and the blunt heads of his hemipenes. G'raha moaned. His fingers tightened desperately in Kairon's shirt. Kairon panted and grunted into G'raha's neck with the effort of his undulating hips. It was all over far too soon. G'raha's breath hitched, voice wound tight, and a small whine hissed out between his clenched teeth. Kairon felt his body go taut under him, and then his thighs and hips twitching as he finished on Kairon's thigh. Not a moment later, fueled by G'raha's desperation and the triumph that came with the knowledge that G'raha had just fucked himself on his thigh, Kairon followed him over the edge with a rough growl.
He needed to see G'raha's face. Still panting for air, Kairon pulled away from the Miqo'te's throat. G'raha's face was flushed, his eyes closed; his red hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead. His chest heaved against Kairon as he struggled for air. Kairon kissed him, more delicately this time. The inferno inside him hadn't been smothered by their grinding, but it had been at least temporarily abated; Kairon could at least think, finally. When he pulled away, G'raha was looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes and round pupils.
“So,” said Kairon, ignoring his dry throat and his uncomfortably soaked undergarments. “What are you doing later?”
G'raha's face scrunched up adorably as a laugh burst out of him.
“Are you asking me out?” He asked in between breathless laughs.
“To dinner, hopefully!” Kairon laughed. “You know, tonight is the first night of the Moonfire Faire. I would love to spend it with you.”
G'raha smiled. “As would I.”
“That settles it,” said Kairon with a broad smile. “Meet me back here at the twentieth bell?”
“Agreed. That would give me plenty of time to clean up.” G'raha shifted a bit in discomfort, though his hands still skated affectionately over Kairon’s shoulders and arms.
“Heat of the moment, aye?” Kairon noted with amusement. “The next time will be better planned, that I can promise you.”
G'raha blushed. Kairon finally lifted himself off him and the two of them collected themselves, got their things, and left the room together. G'raha continued to glance in his direction as they wound their way through the Quicksand and out into the late, afternoon Ul'dah sun. They paused just at the bottom of the steps where it joined up with the broad thoroughfare that ringed the city, both hesitating.
“So,” said Kairon when the moment stretched on for a bit too long.
“So,” echoed G'raha. “I will see you soon.”
“Yes,” said Kairon. “Soon.”
G'raha rubbed his arm, ears and tail twitching, as he looked up at Kairon with his big, red eyes. Kairon could guess what he wanted. He leaned down to give G'raha a quick kiss; G'raha returned it eagerly, cupping his face. G’raha briefly chased him when he pulled away.
“I'm looking forward to it,” said Kairon as he straightened.
G'raha smiled up at him, cheeks flushed that pretty pink. They finally, reluctantly parted ways. Kairon wound his way through the streets to his apartment in the Sultana's Breath. His mind replayed the previous night's events, and this morning. Kissing G'raha. Tasting him. Grinding against him. The sounds he made. He wanted to see and hear and taste all those moments again, but he silently made a pact with himself as he stepped inside his apartment and toed off his boots that he would absolutely not let his libido get in the way of him spending time alone with someone he cared about. He wanted this to work.
Once inside his apartment, Kairon dropped his sword off on the round table in the dining area. For a moment, he eyed the fogweed he rolled yesterday where it sat unlit on the ashtray. Fuck it. He lit the fogweed, took a couple hits, then knocked out the cherry so he could smoke the rest of it later. Kairon stood next to the table for the minute or so it took for the fogweed to hit him, and then, feeling the light buzz in the top of his head and the lightness in his body, went through his bedroom and into the bathroom where he finally peeled off all his sticky clothes. A quick bath, a big drink of water to fight his dry mouth, a snack, and then he finally was able to collapse on the bed to get a few winks before he had to leave.
His link pearl chimed from its home on his bedside table. Kairon groaned and answered it, putting it up against the bottom of his horn.
“Kairon!” A familiar voice cut through the static.
“Alisaie.” Kairon grumbled. “I'm trying to sleep.”
“Nevermind that. You must tell me what happened last night with Raha.”
“I have no idea as to what you could possibly be referring.”
“You see,” said Alisaie. “I always know when you are full of dzo dung when you put on that formal speech. All of us were watching the two of you last night cast the most pathetic looks at each other. However, if any of us deserve to know what happened, I think it's me.”
Kairon hummed, keeping her in suspense.
“I will keep it in confidence,” she continued. “You have my word.”
“Is Thancred there?”
“No, it's only me.” Alisaie huffed with impatience. “I have been watching you leering at this Miqo'te for ages, Kai! I saw how excited you were when he showed up with that horrid drink last night. You all but capsized the table! You cannot keep this from me! I thought we were best friends!”
“You make a compelling argument,” said Kairon with a wicked grin. An evil thought entered his mind.
“I understand you prefer your privacy. I will tell not a single soul. You have my solemn oath.”
“An oath, you say?” Kairon asked. He hummed in thought and then said, “You've convinced me. I will tell you exactly what happened last night. After you all left, we kissed like long lost lovers, and then I took him to my room and he spent all night eating my pussy and my asshole.”
“You're the worst!”
The link pearl went suddenly silent. Kairon cackled with triumph. He knew she'd have her vengeance later, but for now he reveled in the victory. Kairon fell back onto the bed and was asleep within minutes.
~
What the fuck was he going to wear? Kairon dug through his wardrobe. All he had was fucking armor! Armor, armor, armor! Arming coats. Scale. Plate. Mail. Pauldrons. Spalders. Gauntlets. Greaves. It was all leather and metal; black and jagged and spikey. He groaned. Was he really one of those? Every other dark knight he'd ever met - Sidurgu, Granson - they all dressed the same. Dark clothing. Long coats. Jagged armor. A melancholic demeanor and a sour expression. Pathetic, honestly. Did he have anything with any color? Why was he thinking about this so fucking much? How much did it really matter? Surely, G'raha wouldn't judge him for wearing armor. It was probably fine. But he still wanted to look good for G'raha.
Just when Kairon was about to give up, he found the perfect clothing to wear: his doublet, dyed a dark violet, and sarouel. He knew he looked good in violets and purples—it complemented his red skin and dark hair. The doublet would be perfect, with its layers and its open shirt and plunging neckline that he knew made his chest look good. Perfect.
Kairon changed into the doublet and sarouel, and tugged on his sandals. Very Ul’dahn. Of course, he brought his sword with him. He paused for a moment before he left, eyeing the fogweed, but ultimately decided against bringing it with him. His feet felt light under him as he walked through the crowded streets of Ul'dah. Fireworks lit the skies, the first night of the Moonfire Faire already well underway. Children dashed through the streets, waving fans and dragging giant Bombard balloons behind them. Kairon thought it was a bit of an odd festival, but who was he to judge? He knew there was some sort of climbing tower in one of the cities and all that did was make him remember how much that sort of thing pissed him off. And what did any of that have to do with a Bombard invasion? Whatever, it was just a pretense for a late summer celebration and Kairon intended to take full advantage.
Finally, Kairon made it to the steps of the Quicksand. G'raha Tia was already there, standing just outside the doors, tail twitching with anxiety. Kairon's earlier quibbles about what to wear had made him late, and he hoped G'raha would forgive.
“Sorry,” said Kairon by way of greeting as he jogged up the steps. “I had to find something to wear that wasn't armor.”
G'raha's face lit up when he saw Kairon. A broad smile cut across his face and his ears wiggled with barely contained excitement. His eyes darted to the teasing bit of chest exposed by Kairon's doublet, before they rapidly returned to Kairon's face. He blushed. Perfect.
“I am simply glad you are finally here,” G'raha said, waving him off. “But you did not have to go through all the trouble. I think you look dashing in your armor, and you didn't have to dress up for me.” His ears shot up. “I mean! Not that I don't think you don't look dashing now! The doublet is very flattering on you, please don't misunderstand.”
Kairon laughed. “I know what you're trying to say.”
“It really does look good,” continued G'raha. “You look like a prince.”
Now it was Kairon's turn to blush. “A prince? With a greatsword?”
“Are your people not ruled by warriors?” G'raha asked, still smiling. “Perhaps a khan, then?”
“I mean, it's not really traditional attire.”
“You're ridiculous,” laughed G'raha. “Did you not just apologize to me for being late precisely because you were agonizing over your wardrobe? You look good in it; your efforts were not in vain; take my compliment, khan.”
Kairon sighed. “Thank you.”
Together, they proceeded to the Ruby Road Exchange, where the center of the Moonfire Faire festivities were situated within Ul'dah. Kairon watched G'raha as he took everything in, acutely aware that this might be the first time in a century G'raha ever got the chance to attend any kind of festival like this. His eyes reflected the near endless barrage of fireworks, the colorful banners, the ridiculous Bombard balloons. Their first stop was at one of the pop-up street vendors: a food stall selling grilled corn. Kairon bought them both an ear and they ate it as G'raha watched the Bombards float menacingly in the Exchange.
“Don't you,” asked Kairon. “Kind of want to pop one?” G'raha snorted out a small laugh. “You just know it would sound incredible. I bet I could bust through four of them with one stab.”
He thrust his corn before him for emphasis.
“There are certainly more eccentric characters in the city.” G'raha noted, watching his antics with a small smile. “I doubt it would even register in the local gossip, but perhaps you shouldn't cause so much mayhem on the first night of the faire?”
“You're right,” said Kairon. “I should save that for the fifth day.”
G'raha rolled his eyes, but kept that amused smile on his face. They wound their way into the festival crowd gathered in the Exchange. Kairon’s involvement in a lot of these faires and festivals was sporadic at best: the crowds, the noise, it made him irritable and grumpy. So he was surprised to see there were stalls with games set up along the edges of the Exchange. His eyes landed on a booth with a colorful, wooden counter and a board with Bombard balloons pinned to it set up at the end of a small range. Darts . G'raha trailed after him as he wove his way through the crowd to that dart game; The M iqo'te laughed when he saw the booth.
“Welcome,” said the Hyur woman running the booth with a broad smile. “Come to try your hand at a game of skill? Impress your date by winning him a giant Bombard to bring home!” She gestured behind her to an assortment of plush toys hanging from a display: coeurls, moogles, and Bombards of absurd sizes. “All you must do is pop all the golden Bombard balloons with ten dart throws.”
Kairon's eyes skated over the balloon board. There were ten golden balloons, much smaller than the rest, and scattered randomly throughout the board. He glanced down at G'raha, whose cheeks were flushed, and handed him his partially eaten corn. Kairon stepped up to the booth. This would be easy. Ten darts were laid out before him, each of them gleaming with deadly sharpness and fletched with vibrant, orange plumes. Upon his first throw, Kairon was immediately reminded of how overconfident he could be, and that there was a reason why he picked up a sword instead of a bow: his aim was shit. Only about half his darts found a mark and not a single one of them was one of the golden Bombards. Once he was finished, he stared in disbelief and frustration at the dart board, all the Bombards seemingly mocking him. He didn't even want to look at G'raha.
“Well,” said the Hyur. “Better luck next time.”
“Allow me,” said G'raha.
He handed the corn off to Kairon, who stepped back as he stepped up to the booth. The Hyur reset the board and gave G'raha ten darts. Kairon pursed his lips when that first dart found its mark, and the second and third. G'raha popped every golden Bombard with decisive dart throws and perfect form. Kairon didn't know if he should be annoyed, impressed, or what, but he couldn't ignore the way G'raha's body moved when he fired one of those darts down the range.
“Alright, sharpshooter,” teased Kairon as G'raha pushed one of those giant Bombard plushies into his arms.
G'raha took the corn from him with a small laugh. “Well, you can't be good at everything.”
“Evidently, you can.”
G'raha laughed. “I'm sorry. I did not intend to humble you like that.”
“You're lucky you looked good while you were doing it.”
G'raha blushed and Kairon grinned. They continued making their rounds about the Faire. Several times, they had to stop so Kairon could lean down and take a bite of the corn while G'raha held it for him. Kairon didn't miss the pink flush of G'raha's cheeks or the way his ears twitched whenever he fed Kairon. A new possibility presented itself in Kairon's mind. Once the corn was finally finished and the cob disposed of, Kairon stopped them both at another food stall. This one sold smoked raptor quarters imported from La Noscea, a particular favorite of his. Kairon insisted on paying for them, though he couldn't reach his gil, thus forcing G'raha to reach into the folds of his doublet. G'raha blushed furiously, even as he paid for the smoked raptor. The vendor handed both servings to him on a square of parchment, the grease leeching out into it.
“Are you going to put that down?” G'raha asked.
“No,” replied Kairon. “This is a precious gift you have given me and he is my son. If I put him down, he'll get dirty.”
“You're ridiculous,” sighed G'raha, but with a smile.
He tore up the raptor with his fingers. The raptor came apart easily beneath the crisp skin, steam roiling up from the exposed meat along with its savory smell. G'raha, with a blush, brought a morsel of the meat up for Kairon to take. Kairon watched G'raha's face as he leaned down to take the meat into his mouth, sure to let his lips brush against G'raha's fingers. G'raha's pupils went round and big, and his face somehow turned an even deeper shade of red. The raptor was delicious—perfectly moist, tasting of tart lemons, aromatic and fruity black pepper, and smoke—but Kairon's attention was on G'raha. He smiled smugly down at him as he chewed, triumphant that this game he was playing with G'raha was having its desired effect. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could convince G'raha to come back to his apartment with him.
They finished up their food, G'raha having to continually feed Kairon throughout. Kairon didn't push his luck too far. He got the feeling that if he did, and nibbled on G'raha's fingers like he wanted to, G'raha would put a stop to it immediately. There was a tension to the Miqo’te’s posture that Kairon didn’t know how to interpret . Once the raptor was gone, the bones and greasy parchment disposed of, they continued on their rounds through the Faire. There were more games, games that Kairon rightly couldn't play since he was so busy carrying the giant Bombard. Of course, that meant that G'raha had to win him a Bombard balloon and also, of course , a chocobo plush, and absolutely also one of those giant uchiwa. Kairon carried all of these items himself, to G'raha's constant exasperation. The Bombard still between his long arms, the chocobo on top of it, the balloon tied around one of his horns, and the uchiwa clutched in his hand, they made their way down to the edge of the Ruby Road Exchange facing the main thoroughfare. A new round of fireworks had just begun and G'raha insisted they stop to watch. It was close to midnight now, and this would probably be the last burst of fireworks this evening. Kairon didn't watch the fireworks, not directly at least. They were far more beautiful as they were reflected in G'raha's red, feline eyes. G'raha glanced at him at one point and smiled, and Kairon wanted to drop all the prizes G'raha won him to kiss him. But he could only really smile back.
Once the show was over, they lingered at the top of the steps while the crowd filed out of the Ruby Road Exchange around them.
“Thank you,” said G'raha. His hands twisted around his wrists. “I had a good evening.”
“So did I,” said Kairon, having to stand at an angle to G'raha so he could see him, as he couldn't over the top of the combined height of both the chocobo and the Bombard.
“We should, um, we should do that again sometime.”
Kairon smiled a crooked smile. “It's cute how you can be bashful after you treated me like a prince all evening. Look at the gifts you've bestowed upon me!”
“You insisted!” G'raha protested, finally looking up at him.
Kairon's smile transformed into a toothy grin. Having realized he'd just stumbled directly into exactly the reaction Kairon was fishing for, G'raha huffed out a short laugh.
“You have played me like an instrument all night,” G'raha noted.
“All part of my schemes,” said Kairon. “To trick you into having a lovely evening with me.”
“You didn't need to trick me,” G'raha laughed.
Kairon hummed in thought. “That may be so, but would you have fed me like that?” G'raha simply blushed. “I thought not.”
G'raha's ears twitched, first towards Kairon and then away. He swallowed. Kairon could see he was battling with something, and he could guess what, but he wanted to see if G'raha could work up the courage to ask for what he wanted. Like he had that very morning.
“Do you want to kiss me?” Kairon asked when G'raha continued to just look up at him.
“I do,” said G'raha with flushed cheeks.
Kairon bent down into a partial squat—thank Halone for his strong legs—so G'raha could lean up and kiss him. It was soft, full of G'raha's tentative affection and Kairon's barely restrained desire, and far too brief for Kairon's liking.
“Where are you staying tonight?” Kairon asked quietly once they parted.
“The Hourglass,” replied G'raha. “I suppose.”
“You know, I have an apartment in the Goblet. We could walk there from here.”
G'raha's brow furrowed. “Kai? Are you inviting me over to your apartment?”
Kairon simply nodded once with a smile. That smile began to fade when G'raha didn't take him up on his offer. Instead, he looked down at his boots and folded his arms across his chest.
“Why?” G'raha asked, finally. “Is this about sex?”
Kairon's tail flicked. “Well. I won't lie. I was hoping maybe this would lead there.” G'raha looked up at him, his expression completely unreadable to Kairon. “But,” said Kairon quickly. “It doesn't have to be! I was just offering you a place to stay for the night. You wouldn't have to pay for a room. I could cook breakfast in the morning! It doesn't have to lead to sex. I just thought maybe I could save you some gil, and, you know, if it leads to sex, I'd like that, but it doesn't have to! That's not the only thing I care about, even with you. I mean, especially! Especially with you! I just like spending time with you and I thought that…”
“Okay!” G'raha said, cutting him off. He raised both his hands to slow down Kairon's panicked babbling. “I'll go to your apartment with you. No sex.”
“No sex!” Kairon echoed. “I'll be a good boy. Promise.”
“Okay,” laughed G'raha. “Lead on, if you would.”
Kairon smiled with relief, turned, and led G'raha through the streets of Ul'dah to the Goblet. From there, it was a quick jaunt to the Sultana's Breath, and then up to his apartment.
“Here we are!” Kairon said as he held the door open for G'raha with his foot. “Sex-free apartment.”
G'raha snorted out a laugh as he stepped over the threshold. Kairon followed after him and dumped the giant Bombard into one of the mismatched chairs by the table. Once free of that burden, Kairon stretched, then dropped the chocobo and the uchiwa both onto the display shelf between the door and the sofa. G'raha's eyes scanned Kairon's apartment, ghosting over the rugs and furniture in what constituted as a living room in this small space; and the carbuncle table in the dining room, briefly stopping on the snuffed fogweed; the cupboard in the kitchen and the stove top in the style of Kairon's homeland; the hutch with the bottles of wine and mugs and glasses; the partially ajar door in the back that led to his bedroom. He wandered into the kitchen area, drawn to the steppe stove, peering at it with curiosity and admiration. His eyes skated over all of Kairon's cooking utensils, spices, and the small amount of ingredients he had stocked up. Kairon watched him, struck by the novelty of having G'raha Tia in his private space, as he struggled to undo the knot that tied that stupid balloon to his horn. Every effort they had made to make this a reality crashed into him. He remembered the panic he felt when G’raha didn’t wake up, how Kairon had prayed to Naama for the first time in years, begging Her to give him someone, for anyone to wake up. One of them, at least, deserved to live.
“This is a lovely kitchen,” G'raha said.
“ Thank you,” said Kairon. “I like to cook. It helps me wake up in the morning and I can't get this blasted knot undone! ”
G'raha quickly came to his aid. He reached up, pulled his head down by his horn, and skillfully worked free the knot. The balloon floated away to its temporary home on the ceiling. Straightening, Kairon sighed with relief.
“There,” said G'raha with an amused smile. “You are free of your burden.”
“What would I do without you?”
“Pardon? I'm the one that put the balloon there in the first place.”
“It was my idea,” said Kairon with a small smile. “Let me show you around.” He pointed to the kitchen and declared, “Kitchen.” He spun around. “This is the dining room, I suppose, even if it is only two steps away from the kitchen.”
“For you, maybe,” teased G'raha.
“Two steps for me,” agreed Kairon. “What, twelve for you?” G'raha, feigning offense, put his hands on his hips. Kairon just grinned at him and gestured to the armchair and couch in the local style. The walls there were festooned with art, including several portraits and his collection of fishing lures. “Living room.”
G’raha hummed in appreciation. Kairon continued the tour on to his bedroom, nudging open the sliding door that lead there.
“My bedroom,” said Kairon as he stepped inside, only to immediately freeze. He'd forgotten to make his bed, and his floor was strewn with discarded clothes and armor. “Uh, wait just a moment, please!”
Kairon dove into his room, ignoring G'raha's laugh, and put it back together as quickly as he could. First, his greatsword went to its usual spot between bed and window. Then, most of the clothes and armor were simply stuffed haphazardly back into his wardrobe. His bed he made in record time. Thal’s balls! How could he be so stupid? He was eternally forgetting basic shit like this. Breathless, he dragged his fingers through his hair and then stepped out of his room. G'raha had found a seat at the table and was quietly admiring Haurchefant's portrait where it hung on the wall beside the chronometer.
“Haurchefant Greystone,” said Kairon, answering G'raha's silent question.
G'raha made a noise of recognition. “Oh, yes! Ser Haurchefant. I read about his deeds in Lord Fortemps's account of the Dragonsong War.” Kairon crossed over to the bar, pointedly not looking at the portrait. “By any measure, he was a man of honor, duty, and loyalty. A true knight.”
“A lot of good that did him.” Kairon muttered.
G'raha ears flipped up briefly before they returned back to their neutral position. His expression was soft, full of empathy and compassion. Kairon squirmed beneath his gaze. He was being dissected, taken apart piece by bloody piece, under that gaze; his pain laid bare and raw.
“For whatever it is worth,” said G'raha softly. “I'm sorry.”
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Kairon asked. He tried to be casual. He didn't want to have this conversation.
“Only if you share,” said G'raha.
“Of course.” Kairon lit the fogweed.
“I would have liked to have met him.”
Kairon said nothing to that, not immediately. He needed to smoke first. He could feel G'raha's eyes on him.
“I'm sorry,” said G'raha quietly. “I didn't mean to open up old wounds.”
Kairon shook his head. He passed the fogweed to G'raha, who took it without hesitation.
“No,” he said. “His portrait is right there. You have every right to be curious. Sometimes I think I should take it down.”
“I don't think you want to do that, otherwise you would have done it already.” G'raha passed the fogweed back to Kairon before he continued, “Healing isn't linear.”
“Are you about to start talking like the Crystal Exarch?” Kairon asked in an attempt to redirect the conversation. “I thought you left him back on the First.”
G'raha laughed a bit. “Not completely. It's strange. Sometimes it feels like trying to dig through someone else's memories, even though they are clearly my own.” He rose from his chair. “Is the tour complete?”
Kairon hummed in affirmation and set the fogweed on the ashtray. G'raha had either got the hint or given up on the Haurchefant conversation, and Kairon was grateful for it. He didn't want to ruin their night with a sour mood. Kairon showed G'raha his room next. The freshly made bed imported from the Azim Steppes, the small table, the wardrobe, and the moogle sofa. G'raha's mouth dropped open in shock upon seeing the sofa.
“That is the last thing I ever would expect to see in your apartment!” G'raha exclaimed.
“What?” Kairon asked with a smirk. The fogweed helped to erase all the previous anxiety and the sorrow that threatened to creep up on him. “Not sharp enough? Not enough spikes? Too vibrantly colored?”
“Too cute,” laughed G'raha.
Kairon crossed his room and dropped into the sofa.
“Fetch me my blade!” He commanded. G'raha obeyed with a smile. “Tell me, G'raha Tia,” said Kairon as he leaned the naked blade against his shoulder. “Am I not the very picture of the Warrior of Darkness?”
G'raha's laugh echoed off the walls of Kairon's bedroom. Kairon felt something shift as he looked at G'raha from his seat on the sofa, and G'raha looked back at him with a soft blush painted across his cheeks. He set aside his greatsword. G'raha closed the distance between them, and extended a tentative hand to touch Kairon's exposed chest. Kairon's blood sparked and ran hot at that feathery touch; then roared into a blaze when G'raha's hand settled more firmly and slid beneath the hem of his doublet.
“You said,” purred Kairon even as he leaned into G'raha's touch. “No sex.”
“That still stands,” G'raha insisted.
Kairon's hands moved to G'raha's waist, but he didn't pull him in. Much as he wanted to. It would be easy. He could spin them both around and pin G’raha to the sofa; claim his mouth and body for himself.
“So then,” whispered Kairon. “What are your intentions with me, Raha?”
G'raha, after the briefest moment of deliberation, slid into Kairon's lap. His other hand came up to caress Kairon's neck, his thumb brushing over the edges of Kairon's scales. A low growl, full of heat and desire, rumbled in Kairon's chest.
“Here are my intentions,” replied G'raha in a hushed voice.
He kissed Kairon. Softly at first, like all of G'raha's previous kisses thus far. Kairon hummed against G'raha's plush lips, enjoying the feeling of them moving against his; the delicate, almost cautious, way G'raha kissed him; how his breath brushed over Kairon's face as he let a sigh out through his nose. Kairon went where G'raha led him. He only deepened the kiss when G'raha did, when he felt G'raha's lips part and his breath quicken. Kairon nipped G'raha's lower lip briefly, eliciting a shaky gasp, before he delved into G'raha's mouth with his tongue. G'raha moaned. His hands roamed over Kairon's chest, ribs, and shoulders beneath his doublet. Those wandering hands, calloused and strong from wielding a staff or a sword, pushed open Kairon's loose doublet, exposing Kairon's red skin, scales, and scars to his touch.
G’raha jerked away with a shocked noise. Kairon’s eyes flew open at the sudden change in behavior, only to smirk when he realized where G’raha must be looking.
“See something you like?” Kairon purred.
“When did you,” sputtered G’raha. “Get these?” His hands gripped the open hem of Kairon’s doublet, revealing to the open air and dim light in the room the hoops pierced through his dark nipples.
“Othard,” he explained. “Out by the Ruby Sea, specifically. One of the pirates of the Confederacy had them and Lyse dared me, so I did it.”
G’raha might not have been listening. His hands returned to Kairon’s chest and the tips of his fingers carefully brushed over the edges of Kairon’s piercings. Kairon’s tail twitched in response to the arousal that delicate touch fired through him. Impatient, he pulled G’raha back down to kiss him again, his hand buried in red locks. A small gasp slipped out of G’raha, though he went willingly where Kairon led him. Kairon's heart pounded in his rib-cage, his blood rushed through his veins, and all he could do was growl in response to his body's physical reaction. Tugging off G'raha's scarf, he pulled the smaller man flush against him. His hands slid beneath the loose collar of G'raha's shirt to seek heated skin. Kairon didn't let up on those sloppy kisses, open-mouthed, all teeth and tongue. He feasted on G'raha's mouth, sucking down his heated moans and gasps.
Eventually, they broke away to catch their breaths. They panted into the small space between them, turning the air hot and humid. Kairon smiled at G'raha's kiss bruised lips and cheeks painted a lovely pink.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he purred.
G'raha returned his smile with hooded eyes. His ears were swiveled in Kairon's direction to listen to his heavy breathing.
“Are you resolute about this no sex thing?” Kairon asked with a laugh, feeling the growing dampness and stiffened hemipenes in his undergarments.
G'raha's eyes searched his face while he considered Kairon's question.
“I just,” he finally replied. “Wanted to kiss you.” His expression changed, his brow knotting with sudden concern. He leaned away from Kairon. “Am I leading you on? That is not my intention.”
Kairon shook his head. He rubbed G'raha's back reassuringly.
“ No,” he said. “Making out doesn't count as leading me on. It counts as making out. And, well, to be honest, I have been around you all night with my tits out and I absolutely was teasing you when I made you feed me. So, no, you’re not leading me on. ”
G'raha's soft, beautiful smile returned.
“That,” he said. “Does set my mind at ease.” He paused for a moment, thinking. Kairon waited patiently. “What are the sleeping arrangements?” G'raha finally asked him.
“You would have the bedroom,” Kairon told him. “I would have the couch.”
G'raha's eyes shifted to the bed and then back to Kairon.
“Are you certain?”
“Of course,” replied Kairon. “You're my guest. Besides, then I'll be able to start breakfast without disturbing you.”
G’raha chewed his lip. His thumbs still brushed over the cool edges of Kairon’s piercings.
“It’s cultural,” said Kairon, eventually. “Guests are treated well on the Azim Steppes and here you find yourself in the home of a Xaela.”
“Then I have no choice but to accept your hospitality.” G’raha said with an amused smile.
“Good,” said Kairon.
He stood up. G'raha had no choice but to give him space. Before he left G'raha alone in his room, Kairon pointed out the bath, just in case G'raha needed it. Still, he found himself lingering in the doorway, the threshold between his room and the rest of the apartment. Between G'raha and sleeping alone. G'raha, seeming to sense his hesitation, cupped his face gently between his hands and angled him down for a kiss that was far too brief. Kairon returned it, of course, and tried to impart all the yearning he felt for the Miqo'te before they finally parted. Kairon didn't get comfortable until he heard the door to his bedroom slide closed. Once he had changed out of his clothes and had a blanket pulled out from storage, he finished off the roach he'd left in the ashtray, trying not to think of the possibility of sneaking into his room and slipping into bed beside G'raha. He fell asleep, high as a zu, on the couch beneath Haurchefant’s portrait.