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If there was one thing G'raha Tia had learned from his time as the Crystal Exarch, it was patience. And not just the teeth-gritting, false calm sort either. Where before he may have acted impudent or brash in any number of situations, now it had become quite difficult to prompt him into rushing almost anything.
And that certainly extended to his personal relationships, not least of all his budding romance with the Warrior of Light. Which was fortunate, considering how slowly their relationship seemed to be progressing. Several months had passed already since R'alma's confession, and they still had yet to proceed past the hurdle of being physically intimate.
Not that G'raha had any desire to push on that front. While it would be a lie to say he was at all disinterested, he remained respectful and understanding of his partner's comfort and pace. However, the strangest part of it was that R'alma himself seemed somewhat impatient over it, while also somehow being the one putting up the roadblock. Curious.
Oh, there was no shortage of affectionate words or gentle touches between them. Certainly there had been tender moments heavy with the swell of emotion in the scant space separating their longing hearts. Neither had any cause to doubt the other's devotion whatsoever. But in the times when things began to get heated…
…when tender kisses turned desperate and claiming…
…when chests heaved and blood quickened…
…when hands began their wandering exploration of heated flesh and tugged at concealing fabrics…
…without fail, R'alma would break away with a hiss and a strangled, frustrated cry. Then would follow the profuse apologies, and a brief period of time with their bodies carefully separated lest the temptation claim them again.
G'raha had honestly lost count by now of how many times this had occurred. At first, he'd worried that he was pushing the other man in an area in which he was uncomfortable. But his attempts to back off and prevent the circumstances from occurring again proved fruitless. Because R'alma continued to try to initiate. Despite this, the result remained the same.
For lack of a better explanation, R’alma seemed almost furious over the fact that the physical aspect of their relationship was proving such an impassable obstacle for him. The more it happened, the more often he seemed to try. As was the case with a number of things, however, G'raha did not know the reason for the obstacle, or even what the obstacle actually was. His every attempt to convince R'alma to discuss it with him was staunchly rebuffed.
But not for much longer, if he had anything to say about it. It was becoming intimately clear to him that this unending cycle was causing his love a great deal of distress, whether because of some assumed expectations or otherwise, and he intended to have it out at the very next opportunity he found.
Such opportunity presented itself one day in the form of a letter arriving at the Baldesion Annex addressed to him. Within were the details of an impending respite of several days, and a request for him to meet the Warrior of Light at his apartment in Thanalan. While not explicitly stated, the implication was clear from the careful wording of the letter that G'raha himself was expected to stay for those several days. This of course raised the assumption that R'alma did intend once more to attempt to clear what he perceived as a hurdle in their relationship. G'raha sighed and shook his head, a soft smile pulling across his face as he began arrangements for his impromptu holiday.
He arrived at the apartment late in the evening on the date they had agreed upon. The building was quiet and seemed mostly empty at present, though that may have been due to the thick, sound-dampening nature of the stone walls that were so commonly used in Ul’dahn architecture. A truly ideal feature in living quarters so closely arranged, he mused. If he remembered correctly from his previous – albeit brief – visit, the apartments were fairly small, single-room abodes, enough space for only the necessities and intended largely as housing for adventurers and merchants.
Upon locating the correct room, he knocked softly at the door and waited to be let inside, his mind running over how exactly he intended to broach the subject he needed to discuss. All thought fled him, however, when the door opened, and he found himself pulled hastily inside. His small pack was tugged free from his shoulder and tossed aside, the door closed behind him with a slightly ominous click …
And then his lover descended upon him with a passionate fervor, pressing his back against the door he'd just passed through. G'raha had barely a moment to catch his breath before the warmth of R'alma's mouth was trailing eager kisses up the side of his neck. He stammered incoherently as his eyes drifted closed, unable to retrieve his train of thought from before. This was going to be… interesting, to say the least.
At last, those teasing lips traveled up to claim his own, near-smothering in their enthusiasm. A soft moan escaped him as he surrendered, allowing himself the momentary indulgence and parting his own lips in invitation. An invitation that was vigorously accepted. It was then that he first tasted the lingering, heady sweetness.
Pressed as he was against the door, he was unable to pull away, so instead he pushed gently at R'alma's shoulders in order to get a better look. The taller man leaned back obediently, just enough to make eye contact, but kept his hips pressed firmly against G'raha's, effectively pinning him in place. He doesn't want me to run, he found himself thinking. His gaze was drawn to the other's eyes, the familiar mismatched teal and amber, focused but… glassy. And beginning to roam as if distracted.
"Alma," he breathed, then cleared his throat in an attempt to banish the uncertainty he could feel creeping in. He fought to keep any trace of disapproval from coloring his tone. "You've been drinking again."
"Just a little," came the soft reply, as R'alma leaned back in to continue trailing kisses along his jaw. "Needed to clear my head." And he tugged the black scarf away to give himself better access, tossing it in the general direction of the pack he'd snatched away before. His hands trailed down to G'raha's waist, fisting into fabric as his tongue flicked over quickly heating flesh. G'raha helplessly wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck, relishing the sensations with a small sound of approval. But his mind could not help but begin the silent countdown.
Three…
R'alma pressed his hips forward, tugging at the shirt in his hands to angle their bodies closer together.
Two…
Sharp fangs brushed delicately over the pulse running hot beneath his skin, teasing but never threatening.
One…
Perfectly on cue, R'alma broke away with a hiss of sharply inhaled breath, turning away abruptly and lifting his hands to rest at the back of his head in a clearly self-conscious gesture. His long black ears twitched and flicked in irritation. After a brief moment, however, G'raha realized there was no apology forthcoming this time. "Gods dammit, that still feels weird," R'alma muttered loudly, scratching furiously at the back of his neck as if to bolster himself.
After a steadying breath, he turned back – and G’raha’s own breath caught in his throat at the positively feral light that still gleamed in his feline eyes. The smaller man found himself feeling a bit like a hare caught in a trap and facing down a predator. The thought sent a small thrill running down his spine. But before he could allow himself any enjoyment from this interesting turn of events, there was still the question of R’alma’s intoxication that unfortunately continued to plague him.
He was unable to give voice to these concerns in any capacity, however, before R’alma had stalked back over and was on him again, pressing him firmly up against the door and resuming his ministrations exactly where he had left off. Except now… Now he could feel something hot and hard pressing against his leg. That was a new sensation, and if he’d harbored any curiosities about his lover’s… biology after his transformation, they were now at least partly sated.
“Alma…” His voice was breathy and strained as he tried to focus around the renewed vigor of R’alma’s mouth on his neck. “Have… I mean… You… You were…”
“Having some trouble with the new anatomy?” R’alma finished for him, mumbling the words into the crook of his neck with a slight rumble to his tone. “Yeah. The… erection feels weird, and it reminds me that I’m… still not familiar with this body. That it’s still not quite mine yet.”
He pulled back, his suddenly earnest gaze locked on G’raha’s flushed face. “But I want this, Raha,” he went on in a clear, fervent whisper. “I want this – I want you . I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much in my whole life. So please…” At this point, he pressed his forehead gently against G’raha’s, his eyes slipping closed as he struggled with the words to express what he was trying to say. A slight tremble to his hands as he brought them up to gently cup G’raha’s face, and his voice shook almost imperceptibly, but every detail was in sharp focus as the Miqo’te hung on his every word.
“Please… If you are not against the idea… I want your help making it mine. Help me claim it. Help me understand it…”
That little thrill from earlier sparked into a bolt of levin in his gut. How long had he waited to hear such an impassioned invitation? The specific words and reasoning may have been still a little ambiguous, considering he felt he was missing a rather large piece of information regarding the whole ordeal, but even so, the passion and intensity of the request could not be denied. There was still one glaring problem nagging at the edge of his mind, however. “Alma, please believe me when I say that I want nothing more at the moment,” he began, breathless but restrained. His hands came up to rest gently on the taller man’s waist so as to add weight to his words. “But I am afraid I cannot, in good conscience, take advantage of your intoxicated state.”
“So honorable,” R’alma replied with an appreciative grin. “But I told you, it was just a little. And besides, it was on purpose.” He leaned in to once more capture G’raha’s lips with his own, lingering and tender this time, but no less charged than before – a quiet promise that quickened the pulse and scattered resolve. “I needed to get out of my head, stop myself from second-guessing. But don't you worry, I am in full control of my faculties." Once more, he leaned back, and that sincere gaze pinned his love in place. "I promise you, I will remember this tomorrow, and I will not regret it. And next time, I will do without." A downward tilt of the head, brushing the ends of his red-streaked hair against G'raha's forehead. "I trust you. Completely, you know that. Do you trust me?"
With a small sigh, G'raha reached up one hand to R'alma's cheek, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "Of course I do, my star," he replied, voice barely above a whisper. "Always."
R'alma returned the smile for a moment, leaning into the skin contact briefly before his eyes fluttered closed. He took another bracing breath, and G'raha could almost see him physically slipping back into a state of arousal. "If you tell me to stop, I'll stop," he breathed, tilting his head as if begging for another kiss, his breath coming faster and more ragged with every second that passed. "But I don't want to."
The question hung in the air between them for an agonizing moment. G'raha's tongue darted out to wet his lips, anticipating the repercussions of his response. It came softly, pleading and heavy with need.
"I can't tell you to stop."
The tension between them snapped like a severed bowstring. If he had thought R'alma's behavior before had been desperate, it was nothing compared to the hungry fury he was faced with now. The taller man's mouth crashed into his with a bruising intensity. The full length of R'alma's body was pressed against his, as if he were trying to make them a single entity. Hands, large and roughly calloused, slipped under his tunic and ran up his sides, mapping the planes of his musculature as well as they could without actually separating their bodies. Graha felt himself hardening in response to the bulging warmth that continued to press ever more insistently against his thigh. An indulgent moan escaped his chest, and along with it, the last of his restraint.
The sound pulled a low growl from his lover’s throat in answer. R'alma reached down and hooked his wrists behind G'raha's legs, hiking the smaller man up and pushing his weight against the door. In startled compliance, G'raha locked his ankles around the slender waist to help keep his balance. His mind was sent reeling by the sensation of his lover’s mouth lapping and sucking at the crook of his neck, and he instinctively grabbed the base of one long black ear to steady himself. A gentle tug made R'alma break away from his neck with a soft, mewling cry – and made R'alma's cock twitch under him.
" Ahh , that's sensitive," R'alma gasped breathlessly.
G'raha's face broke 0ut in a roguish grin. "So I gathered," he remarked, a teasing lilt to his voice as he gently stroked the offended appendage. "I wonder where else you may be sensitive?" And he ground their hips together. Gently. Suggestive. Provoking.
At the first taste of subtle friction, R'alma made a sound that he had honestly never heard the man make before, something like a strangled whimper – and then immediately reached down and grabbed his tail firmly at the base. Not squeezing, or pulling, just a firm, solid grip. G'raha felt his own cock pulse with the sensation, and his ears fell back flat against his skull. "Well played," he panted, watching his lover’s face carefully.
R'alma looked positively enraptured by each sensation, distracted now entirely from devouring G'raha's neck by the new set of prospects before him. "Do that again," he pleaded. And G'raha complied with a soft smile, grinding his hips down and drawing that whimpering moan once more from the other man’s lips. He could feel the shiver run through R'alma's body, watched as the need was writ plain across his face.
Teal and yellow eyes opened slowly to regard him, needy desperation warring with frightened uncertainty within their depths. Uncertainty about how to proceed from their current juncture. Additionally, he could detect a faint trembling in R'alma's arms and shoulders, and he realized that their position, while impressively instinctual in the heat of the moment, was not particularly ideal for someone with little practice. And so, leaning his wrists gently on R'alma's shoulders, he touched their foreheads together. "Why don't we start by getting you somewhere more comfortable?"
The journey from the door to the bed was a slow and meandering one, with each helping the other out of garments and footwear amidst a tangle of exploring limbs and heated kisses. All was in service of increasing the contact of skin, though G'raha found himself stopping frequently to admire each new tattoo he uncovered on R'alma's body. Whether some were recent, or he simply had not seen them before, he couldn't be sure. The marks were foreign to him and made largely no sense, and he intended to ask his love sometime to explain them all to him. But for tonight, he satisfied himself with a reverent tracing of the fingers here or a gentle kiss there. There would be time enough later to commit them all to memory more thoroughly.
The small acknowledgements did not go unappreciated, judging by the flush of R'alma's skin, or the small moans rumbling in his chest at each touch. Or the continued swelling inside his smalls. They were both down to nothing else now, as G'raha felt the side of the bedframe smack against the backs of his knees. His own cock ached to be touched, throbbing and pulsing with need – and he could only imagine how R'alma's must feel, straining as it was against the thin fabric that restricted it.
He leaned up for another desperate kiss, parting his lips again in invitation and swallowing the startled gasp as he reached down and palmed at the bulging front of R'alma's smalls. With a plaintive groan, the taller man wrapped arms tightly around him, as if to anchor himself, and began to rut aimlessly into G'raha's hand, chasing any amount of friction he could find.
Panting, R’alma dropped his head into the crook of the Miqo’te’s neck, choking out a muffled curse. “ Gods , Raha,” he rasped. “I think I could… I could finish just from this…”
He gave a soft whine when G’raha stopped and pulled his hand away, hips bucking in search of the lost contact. “Is that what you want, my love?”
R’alma hesitated – but only for a moment. “Not by myself,” he growled while nudging G’raha gently but insistently toward the bed. “I want to take you with me.”
They arranged themselves among the untidy mess of bedclothes and pillows, tossing aside anything bulky enough to get in the way, before settling together and continuing their joint exploration of newly exposed flesh. Their pace was slower now, the hot, hungry inferno smoldering down into a languid, passionate magma. Their legs intertwined and their hips flush, R'alma leaned in and devoured his lover’s already kiss-swollen lips, setting a steady, patient rhythm. His large, tanned hands began to brush over every feature they could reach, running along G'raha's toned arms, across his broad shoulders, and down the firm planes of his muscular chest. G'raha responded in kind, matching the rhythm set for him as he ran his hands up R'alma's slender shoulders, down his back, and along his narrow waist.
At some point in the course of these exploratory caresses, R'alma rolled over and carefully straddled G'raha's hips. Breathing heavily, he broke their kiss, trailing his fingers down the center of the Miqo’te’s abdomen to the narrow line of red hair that disappeared under the band of his smalls. For a moment, he thought those trailing fingers meant to follow it without stopping, and his cock twitched at the idea – at the thought of those slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking him to completion. R'alma clearly noticed his anticipation, for a wicked grin split his features before he hooked one finger under the waistband and tugged it down. G'raha's aching, swollen cock sprang free of the restraining fabric, hot and needy and already beading at the tip. R'alma carefully worked the garment the rest of the way off before settling himself on the smaller man’s lap.
Anticipating the contact that was sure to follow, and intending to reciprocate the relief of being unrestrained, G'raha caressed up the length of R'alma's thighs, aiming to hook the waistband of his smalls in similar fashion – but a firm hand closed around his wrist before he could. "No. No, not yet," R'alma murmured, his breathing shaky and ragged. "I– Not yet… Let me… take care of you first. Please?"
"Alma, there is nothing to–"
"Please."
G’raha fought to suppress his mild dismay, pressing his lips together as his ears folded back. He only hesitated a moment, though, before he nodded and dropped his hands to give a reassuring squeeze to his partner’s tattoo-riddled thighs. “Of course, my love,” he soothed, his voice even and soft. “Whatever would make you most comfortable.”
With a mildly apologetic look, R’alma leaned in and placated him with an appreciative kiss, nipping gently at his bottom lip before drifting down. A small gasp escaped him as that tantalizing mouth once more sucked and lapped at his tender – and likely bruised – throat, clearly intending to work him up. He closed his eyes and moaned, relishing in the sensations as he tangled his fingers in his lover’s dark locks. Slow, deliberate kisses planted on his collarbone. Then on his chest. Then his sternum. His stomach. His abdomen. Soft, pliant skin brushed against the head of his cock, and he gasped again. Crimson eyes flew open, and he tugged urgently at the Viera’s hair. “Alma,” he panted, breathless with anticipation and need. “Wh-what are you–”
R’alma’s head came up, face flushed, mismatched eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded, chest heaving and pupils blown wide in the throes of his arousal. The sight sent a rush straight down to G’raha’s core. “I want this. Raha, please let me…”
G'raha's tongue flicked out to wet his dry lips. He watched as R'alma's eyes hungrily tracked the movement, and his tail thrashed eagerly against the mattress. His voice came halting in explanation, his mind struggling to form coherent words in its current state. "I only want… to ensure that you are not doing this out of some… some misguided idea of my expectations…"
He felt fingernails biting into the flesh of his thigh, and realized he was gripping one of R'alma's ears again. "Raha, I want this," his lover repeated earnestly. "I want to taste you. To please you. Make you come undone." A moment of hesitation, uncertainty, confidence wavering. "But… if you don't want–"
"I meant no such thing," he interrupted quickly – perhaps a bit too quickly, but his dignity was already held by the barest thread, seeing the man he loved so utterly lost to carnal desire. And for him , no less. His tail wrapped gently around R’alma’s wrist in a gesture of encouragement. "Do what you will with me, so long as it is by your own decision." And with that, he relaxed back into the small pile of pillows behind him, keeping his hands firmly on R'alma's head.
Without so much as a moment's hesitation, R'alma slid the rest of the way down his legs, straddling one knee so as not to lose all bodily contact, and bent forward to better examine his prize. His one free ear flicked in anticipation, eyes glazed over with lust. Hot, panting breaths ghosted over the sensitive shaft as he drew closer, grazing his lips almost reverently against the side. G'raha's pulse pounded in his ears, a small, strangled sound escaping his throat as he grit his teeth against the urge to thrust into the sensation. The struggle was made surprisingly easier by the fact that he had one leg trapped.
His cock made up for it, however, by jumping in response. R'alma silently reached up and wrapped the slender fingers of his free hand around the base to keep it steady, tilting his chin up and letting his nose brush delicately against the head. His tongue followed, flicking out to run a swift, narrow stripe up the underside, teasing and desperate all at once. G'raha's skin prickled at the warmth, leaving behind a trail of damp skin that amplified the alternating cool air and hot, heaving breath of his lover.
He let his head fall back and sucked in a sharp breath, tempted to hold it in anticipation – and to prevent another wanton sound from escaping – but R'alma did not afford him the time. Slick, wet heat engulfed his length, slowly stroking downward. He glanced down to see the other man’s lips parted delicately around his throbbing cock, half of its length already devoured, and found he could remain quiet no longer. A deep, guttural moan flew past his lips, and he stroked at the ear he still clutched in one hand.
His response was met with an answering moan, one that vibrated the flat of the tongue that curled around the underside of his shaft. He felt the barest edge of sharp fangs, kept well out of the way, skimming along the sides as the head slipped along the roof of R'alma's mouth before settling comfortably against his soft palate. The tender flesh contracted and convulsed around G'raha's cock as his lover worked to swallow the rest of him down. "Wicked white , Alma," he hissed.
There was no answer, of course, as the other man’s mouth was thoroughly occupied. R'alma stretched his lips and jaw to make up the rest of the distance, nose brushing the patch of hair at the base and throat twitching in protest. A rolling contraction of muscles squeezed G'raha's cock in the most obscene fashion, causing him to cry out. And then, R'alma was moving. For a few blissful, languid strokes, his lover took him completely, his tip hitting the back of the other man's throat. Beyond that, however, R'alma shifted, wrapping one hand once more around the base and curling his lips carefully around his teeth. G'raha found himself fisting his other hand in the sheets, the suspense tingling up his spine.
And then his lover’s mouth dipped, head pumping at an even, steady pace, his hand stroking in time with his swollen, dripping lips, spreading the wet slaver left behind by his gliding tongue. G'raha's breath hitched and quickened. Each slick stroke sent a bolt of levin down his legs and stoked the heat pooling in his belly. All thought was banished from his mind beyond chasing the promise of release.
His lover’s name became a reverent prayer upon his lips, punctuated by his lascivious moans as each plunge brought him closer and closer to the precipice. Ralma’s answering moans rang out alongside as he rocked his hips in pace with his strokes, rubbing his hard and still-trapped erection against the leg he straddled.
Before long, G'raha felt the edge of the cliff rapidly approaching. His muscles tensed, the coiling in his gut so tight it threatened to snap. He pulled desperately on the ear in his hand, whimpering. "Alma!" he gasped, his whole body shuddering now. "Alma, please! I can't… I'm…"
With an obscenely loud sound, R'alma's mouth came off of his cock, reddened and glistening. He took in the sight for a moment, the heat in his belly flaring at the image of his Warrior of Light and Darkness, eyes unfocused and heavy with lust. Debauched, insatiable, and caught off-guard by the strength of his own desire. Swept away by the current of such carnal need, rutting helplessly against his lover’s thigh while still stroking the throbbing cock in one hand and tugging frantically at the tail in his other.
It was too much for G'raha. He leaned forward, pulling in that slick, bruised mouth and devouring it. Every muscle clenched as he thrust up into the hand that still held his length, tipping him the last ilm over the edge. With a strangled cry, he found his release, back arching as the coil finally snapped. Hot, slick seed painted both their chests as R'alma pumped erratically, pulling ragged breaths and trembling.
Then, unexpectedly, he gave a strained grunt. His hand clenched and twitched, before finally slipping off the softening shaft as he fell forward, body convulsing. His face contorted as he groaned, pressing his forehead into G'raha's shoulder.
"Shit," he hissed, still panting. "Gods dammit… That wasn't… wasn't what I…"
"What's wrong?" G'raha asked, sudden alarm quickly clearing the fog in his head. "Are you…?" But then he felt it – the slick, sticky sensation pooling on his leg, right where R'alma's hips had come to rest. Realization hit him then. "Ah," he said softly, and smiled as he pressed a reassuring kiss to his love's head.
"Too much," R'alma whispered feverishly, his body crumbling as he began to come down from his own climax. "Wasn't ready… Gods, you're beautiful when you…"
G'raha shushed him with a gentle chuckle, wrapping arms around him and soothing him down from his state of euphoria.
G'raha awoke to sunlight streaming in the window of the apartment, bathing the small space in golden tranquility. For a moment, he wasn't quite sure where he was or how he'd come to fall asleep – until he felt something warm and heavy nestling into him. He glanced down to find R'alma curled tightly around him, legs draped over his and one arm tucked around his waist. The taller man's head was resting peacefully on his exposed chest, hair disheveled and long black ears lying slack across his shoulder.
He had a muddy recollection of cleaning themselves up last night – with R'alma having vanished to the washroom for several minutes – before both curling up together in the bed and basking in each other's presence and the results of their activities. The logical conclusion was that they had both fallen asleep shortly thereafter.
But thinking back on the events of the evening, G'raha found he couldn't help the knot of uncertainty that was forming in the pit of his stomach. Despite his partner's assurances to the contrary, he worried now that R'alma truly had been too intoxicated to have been making such decisions. Or worse, to have remembered them.
Of course, he'd seen the man in far worse condition in the past. At least this time he'd been conscious and coherent. But while G'raha had found his assertions agreeably plausible at the time, he wondered now if his own desire hadn't clouded his perception of R'alma's actual state of mind. If his eagerness and his longing hadn’t blinded him to the fact that his partner was unaware of his own actions.
Distressing though it was, his train of thought was interrupted when the man in question stirred, curling tighter around him and nuzzling into the bare chest he rested on. A steady, rumbling purr vibrated into the silence, filling the air around them with a pleasant hum.
"Still need to get used to that," he mumbled, turning to blink up at the Miqo’te with bleary, sleep-heavy eyes. "G'morning," he said with a small smile. "Guess I fell asleep."
"We both did," G'raha replied softly, returning the smile as he stroked gently at R'alma's tousled hair. The purring increased slightly in volume as they lay there for a moment soaking in the peaceful bliss. But the nagging worry wouldn't leave him alone until he spoke up.
"Alma," he began, faltering slightly in his uncertainty. An answering hum urged him on. "Forgive me, but I must know for my own peace of mind." He took a bracing breath before plunging ahead with his question. "Exactly how drunk were you last night?"
He felt R'alma's body tense beside him, though neither of them made any move to shift or change position. The purring stuttered to a halt. "Enough," came the short, dismissive reply.
"Which… means what, precisely?"
R'alma gave a slightly petulant groan, bringing his hand up from G'raha's waist to trace indecipherable, absent-minded patterns between the freckles on his chest. "Drunk enough to not be thinking too hard about what I was doing. But not enough that I didn’t know what I was doing.” He paused, his hand falling still as a sigh heaved his shoulders. “Raha, I know you’re worried that you took advantage of me. But… But I was sick and tired of my head getting in the way of what I wanted. So I… I took it out of the equation for the night.”
He shifted then, rolling so that he was lying halfway on top of G’raha and pinning him with an earnest gaze. His mismatched eyes were clear and unclouded now, the effects of the drink and his overwhelming lust from the night before long since faded. "I told you I wouldn't regret it, and I don't. Everything that happened last night was nothing more than what I wanted to happen. Though, maybe a little… less than I had been hoping for…" he admitted, his voice subdued as his gaze slipped away in embarrassment.
The Miqo'te nodded, touching a soothing finger to the side of his face to bring those eyes back to his. "I believe you, Alma. You need not convince me further. But… if I may be permitted another question?" He gazed into his lover’s feline eyes, wide and watching him with an intense focus. "You made mention last night of this body not being yours, of having a need to 'claim it'. Would you explain that for me? As best you are able, I understand it is a difficult subject."
R'alma stiffened again, and something close to panic flashed across his face for the briefest moment. With a pensive sound rumbling in his throat, he rolled away and sat up. G'raha followed, wrapping his muscular, bare arms around the man's slim waist to keep him from leaving.
Truth be told, he hated putting his partner on the spot like this, but he also knew that R'alma had a bad habit of running away from uncomfortable situations and difficult conversations. And so, on the rare occasions that he was able to get the other man talking, he knew he had to keep him from leaving before he'd got everything out, or it would stew and fuel his temper later. Besides, it had been long enough, and even if he didn't get all the details, he figured it was about time R'alma talked to someone about that strange night at the Rising Stones.
With another petulant groan, R'alma leaned back into the embrace, surrendering his freedom voluntarily – for the moment, at least. He sighed before finally starting to speak, an oddly reverent air to his tone. "It's… complicated. I really don't want to talk about all the details right now. But… what I can tell you is that… this body was… was gifted to me by someone. Someone very important to me."
"Someone gifted you a new body?" G'raha echoed, trying and failing to keep the incredulity out of his voice. A dozen new questions swirled in his mind suddenly. Who was it? Why would they do such a thing? What was wrong with your old one? Something foreign – and strangely akin to a jealous fervor – stirred in his gut at some of the inquiries that flashed by him in the wake of this revelation. He firmly stamped it out, focusing instead on sorting out what to ask. In the end, he settled on voicing what he considered the most pressing one. "How is that even possible?"
R'alma gave an uneasy shrug. "That's… one of those details I'd rather not get into right now," he deflected. "Besides, it's not that important. What is important is that I suddenly found myself with a body that I… that I was unfamiliar with. A body I didn't understand, and still don't, really."
"Are you happy with it?" G'raha asked, interrupting with a grave tone. "I mentioned once that you seemed to be, but I want to hear you say it."
"Yes," came R'alma's reply, without hesitation. "Yes, I am, there's no question about that. I want to understand it, but…" He squirmed a little in the Miqo'te's strong grasp, clearly uncomfortable with baring this particular struggle. G'raha hooked his chin on the other man’s shoulder, tracing soothing circles into the tattoos on his stomach while he waited. Patient. Unhurried.
"I don't know, it felt wrong. I was… clearly still attracted to you, despite being… so different. But every time I would get… aroused, it felt… Well, besides being unfamiliar, it felt like I was tainting something that didn't belong to me. Spoiling it, somehow…"
Long black ears drooped in clear discomfort as a heavy silence settled over them. G'raha's hands continued their soothing motions, but he was otherwise still, contemplating what his partner had just disclosed. It made sense to him, in a sort of convoluted fashion. But it bothered him a little that his love had been under such distress without his knowledge. Not that he hadn’t known that R’alma was in distress, but he hadn’t understood the depth of it until this moment.
"I find it difficult to accept," he began slowly, his voice low and deliberate with every word, "that such a generous gift would be given with such stringent restrictions on its intended use."
"Oh, no," R'alma amended quickly. "No, he… he made it very clear that I was to live my own life as I see fit, with no regard for how he might feel about it. And besides, we… We don't…" A sigh, heavy and veiled, punctuated his thoughts. "I haven't seen him since."
“So, then,” G’raha prodded after a brief pause, “the obstacle truly was nothing more than a specter of your own anxiety, then?”
With a nod, R’alma went on, seeming more at ease as he continued talking. “Yeah. And I knew it was stupid, but… no matter how many times I tried to get over it, I just… couldn’t. I had all these… weird hang-ups about being intimate with you, and I didn’t want to have them. And I didn’t know what else to do about it.”
“That sounds incredibly vexing,'' the Miqo’te murmured, dropping a tender kiss to the crook of Ralma’s neck. All this talk about his lover’s new body – which he hadn’t had a chance to fully explore yet – while they were both still barely clothed and pressed close together so intimately… It was enough to drive him to utter distraction.
That, and the relief from R’alma’s assurances given now in the light of day had him inclined to pick up where they had left off the night before. So that he could perform properly , rather than simply being swept away by the torrential maelstrom of his partner’s single-minded passion. He nipped lightly at the sensitive, inked skin beneath his lips, the “ribbon of fate” as the other man had called this particular symbol, relishing in the way R’alma’s breath hitched and his response strangled in his throat.
"Raha…" the Viera whined, though with the way his breath quickened it was bordering on a moan. "Mmm, you're vexing me right now, you little minx." And he twisted around in G'raha's arms, shoving him back down onto the bed with a soft growl.
"You always do that," he purred – almost literally – as he loomed over the smaller man, affecting a feigned pout. "Get me talking and then shut me up in the most–" He leaned in, stealing a teasing kiss. "–maddeningly abrupt and–" Another, deeper and more fervent. "–confoundingly charming ways."
The next one was hungry, barely contained and searing. R'alma hissed when they broke apart, his breath hitching again, but he did not move from his spot, and G'raha felt his lover’s arousal beginning to press against his leg once more. He smiled softly at the stubborn but discomforted expression that crossed the larger man’s face, bringing a hand up to brush at his bare shoulder.
"No need to rush, my star," he soothed. "If you would like, we could set about finding some food, and then discuss… further diversions?"
To his mild surprise, after a moment of consideration, R'alma nodded and began working on disentangling himself as gently as possible. He could understand his lover’s eagerness. It felt like they had so much lost time to make up for. But in the same manner, they still had so much time left ahead of them. And he was not inclined to rush something like this.
No, he was going to relish every moment going forward. Attentively cater to his lover’s comfort levels. Gently guide him in exploring the depths of intimacy and passion. Lavish his every ilm with adoration and affection.
Oh yes. G'raha Tia was a very patient man.