Um, first of all, there's yaoi, and second of all, there's twincest. In other words, we have Sabin and Edgar having sex.
So, well, if you don't like that kind of thing, it's probably not a good idea to read this.
Disclaimer: FFVI is not mine. All I have are my fond memories of watching my brother play it on a SNES. Ah, nostaligia. (Sad way to spend your childhood, I know)
Everything I know about martial arts I've gotten from samurai and ninja flicks, so don't expect anything amazing on that front.
-You Can't Fool Me-
"Idiot."
"Why's that?"
"You really thought that I would fall for that?" The campfire was burning low as Sabin, tucked into his bed roll, leaned on his elbow to look at his brother. The moon was bright against the night stars, and Celes was asleep at the other side of the fire.
Edgar stretched out his arms and pillowed his head on them, looking at the stars. "Not really. But it was fun."
Sabin snorted. "You have odd ideas of what's fun, brother."
They fell silent for a while.
Sabin had wandered for two years, looking for the friends he had made before the end of the world. Locke, Cyan, even that stupid moogle - despair had begun to take its hold when he ran into Celes. When he saw her, he'd almost thought that it was enough - at least one of the old crew as still alive. He could deal with that.
...Or so he thought. I was just fooling myself. The one Sabin had really been looking for was Edgar.
My brother and I were always close. We were close to our parents as well, but being monarchs, they didn't have too much time to spend with us. Edgar, being older (by about an hour, the numbskull), took it upon himself to "take care" of me. He taught me to ride a chocobo (I'm about as graceful as a hedgehog on one of those things. I swear they all hate me), introduced me to his friends (they didn't like me much either, but Edgar made them be nice to me), hammered table manners into my thick skull, and spent time with me when I was sick or just feeling shitty. He went way out of his way to make time for me. Until I left Figaro, I don't think I ever spent much time with anybody else.
I was pretty quiet then, believe it or not. Only with Edgar would I act anything like I do now. I suppose I just felt out of place... Like there was nothing for me there. I spent a lot of time wishing I was someplace else. I never really thought specifically of anywhere, just away from the castle. With Mother's and then and Father's death... well, that was the last straw. The scent of death was thick in the corridors of the castle.
Gods, the infamous coin toss. I should have known he had it rigged. Maybe I had known, but was just blocking it out. I would have stayed if I'd known he was going to do that. Brother always put my interests before his... I know he didn't really want to be king any more than I did, but he always had this responsibility and duty thing that I didn't understand until long after that moment.
I left the next morning, without even thinking about it. I was pretty ignorant, back then. I don't think I had any real goals. I didn't really know much about the world outside of court. At least I was smart enough to stay in the kingdom.
I met Vargas before I met Duncan, actually. He had such a presence - or so I thought at the time, anyway. I ran into him - quite literally - in South Figaro, in the market - I suppose he was doing some errands for his father. He was arrogant from square one, boasting about his father being the greatest martial artist in the kingdom, probably the world, and how HE, Vargas, was going to inherit his father's legacy. He was kind of scrawny at that point, but for some strange reason he looked strong to me. I didn't want to go so low as to ask to see Master Duncan, knowing he'd probably make me get down on my knees to feed his ego. I followed him to his house, instead.
Vargas was pretty pissed when he saw me again. He was even more pissed when Duncan accepted me as a second disciple. Eventually, the feelings became mutual. I didn't like him any more than he liked me.... and I would do anything to surpass him. He'd been training at his father's foot since he was five, but I started my training when I was over fifteen.
I made it my goal to reach his level. Every day we would spar. Slowly, bit by bit, I could see myself gaining on him, and he could too. It made him scared. He would do anything to stay on top.
Sweat glistened on naked torsos, their breath came heavily. Vargas threw a roundhouse kick that his opponent deftly blocked before countering with a fist landing square in Vargas' tightened stomach muscles. He grunted on impact, an expression of something flashing across his face. Sabin drew back in a defensive stance as Vargas began to move forward.
Sabin was about to make his next move when Vargas, in a completely unorthodox motion, rushed forward and slammed Sabin against the wall, pinning him by the wrists.
Sabin growled and shifted his weight, preparing his retaliation. He didn't see what was coming to him at all. Vargas' mouth was on his before he could throw his opponent off, and all thoughts of moving disappeared.
Vargas' kiss was harsh and fierce, pinning Sabin's lips with the same force as his hands were pinning Sabin's wrists. At this point, only Vargas' grip was keeping the other fighter on the wall.
Vargas' hand began to move from Sabin's limp wrist to the rest of his body, sliding over the sweat on his chest and down to his belt.
Finally some coherent thought returned to Sabin's mind as he shoved Vargas off with a knee to his stomach, followed up by a punch that was easily blocked by the other man.
Sabin ran an arm over his lips, laughing nervously. "That was pretty fucking unorthodox. What's the follow-up?"
Vargas only smiled.
Sabin wasn't sure how he ended up on the floor, Vargas standing above him with a wicked grin on his face. "I think you need to work on it some more before you can even think of beating me, squirt."
Sabin only chuckled. "That wasn't at all fair."
"Now why is that?" Vargas asked, cocking his head.
Sabin got to his knees, looking down at the mats on the floor. "Why do you think, you pervert?"
Vargas' hot breath on the back of Sabin's neck indicated that he was now kneeling behind him. "I'm the pervert? Really."
It wasn't long before Sabin was on the floor again, this time, unclothed, and Vargas over him. There had to be something wrong with this. Sabin felt he was unable to move, unable to say a word, unable to resist what his longtime rival was doing to his body. Vargas' hands expored Sabin, over the new sweat that hadn't been caused by the sparring. The hands slid down to arouse him, to touch him like no one, much less another man, had ever touched him before.
Sabin felt he was being dominated. This was one place where he could never hope to defeat Vargas - but more than that, he didn't want to defeat Vargas. He wanted to be taken, violated, and completely consumed by this man, until Sabin belonged to him. Vargas had control, Vargas would be in charge, take care of his needs.
When Vargas entered Sabin, everything else dissolved. There was only Vargas' hands on his chest, Sabin's legs clamped on his back, and their chests pressed together, hearts beating in tandem.
Sabin couldn't control any part of himself. He heard words coming out of his mouth, a name. He was repeating it between gasps of air, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes as his voice became louder.
It was over almost as suddenly as it had begun. Sabin lay on his back, Vargas on top of him, stroking the skin of his chest, laughing to himslelf.
"You're the pervert, you know." Vargas chuckled. "When you came, you were saying, 'brother, brother' over and over again. Fuck, you really have some issues."
Sabin'a head rolled to the side, looking away. "Shut your face."
I know Vargas did it to try and stay ahead of me. When we had sex, he was always on top. And he knew I could never fight him when I wanted him so much. He really would have done anything to be better than me.
The problem was, once he brought sex into the equation, I no longer wanted to compete against him. In part because I finally realized it was so petty, but mostly because it felt good when he dominated me. I wanted him to do it. Ever since I was a child, I've never been the one in control, I've always have my brother taking the lead, and dammit, I missed that. I felt lost without Edgar.
Somewhere in my mind the sex with Vargas and my brotherly love for Edgar got mixed up, and I ended up wanting Edgar.
That's what I told myself, anyway. Just because I didn't want to admit that I'd wanted Edgar from the beginning. Vargas so had the nail on the fucking head.
Maybe it's the result of spending all of your time for fifteen years with one person, but Edgar is the only person who could ever be in my heart. Believe me, I have fucking tried, but my childhood with Edgar always gets involved with my sex life. I want someone to take care of me like he does, and even though we are now both adults, I still feel like a child with him. He was the first one to take my heart, the first one to take my desire, and I can't take them back.
Dear gods, I am such a textbook case. I am a pervert.
Killing Vargas was probably the shittiest thing I've ever done. It was no accident. We could both judge our blows to a hair, and I meant to kill him.
Maybe it was for fucking with my head.
Maybe it was to erase all evidence that I'd ever screwed anyone aside from Edgar. Something about having sex with Vargas made me slightly ill. I think I felt I was being disloyal to Edgar, or trying to replace him, and felt guilty about it. Retarded, I know, considering I never had that kind of a relationship with my brother in the first place.
Or maybe I was just pissed because I thought he'd killed Duncan.
Thinking back, I can't believe I'd ever thought that. To this day, at fifty-six, Duncan continues to kick my ass. There is no way he's lose to Vargas.
And I can't believe I'd ever thought Vargas would have killed Duncan. Vargas had idolized his father. He felt that the only way he could be worthy was to equal him in the fighting arts, and he believed that I was taking his place, taking his father's love from him.
He acted like such an arrogant asshole, but he really had no self-esteem at all. That's why I finally kicked his ass, I think. I hate people who wear masks like that. He was just as much of a child as me all along.
I was sick afterwards. There's something about killing your closest friend and rival that will do that. I didn't feel the same for months. Only being with Edgar again reminded me how much Vargas could never replace him.
And it reminded me why I'd left in the first place.
I mean, what kind of pervert fantasizes about their older brother when they jerk off? Yep, I had to leave before I did something I'd regret.
It also reminded me that just being with Edgar was often enough. I thought I'd erased him from my mind at that point, but leaving him had taken something from me that mended when I saw him again.
Those times with him were almost like the times when we were children.
It kills me sometimes, but I could never share my feelings with him. I'd much rather keep it as it is now than be rejected by him.
I could never take being rejected by him.
"Sabin?" Edgar regarded his sibling, who was turned away from him in his sleeping roll.
"What?"
Edgar could tell he was moping. He could read his brother like a book. "You're moping."
They were silent for a while again.
"Edgar." Sabin paused. "I had always known it was you. You could never fool me with that corny outlaw costume. You had practically your usual outfit in different colors. I always knew it was you. But..."
"But?"
Sabin's voice took on another tone. "I thought..." he stopped. "Do you know what it would do to me to find that you had no memory of me?"
The silence stretched out between them, until Sabin regretted the words he had said.
He heard a shifting of blankets before he felt warm arms enveloping him from behind. "Yes. I know. I'm sorry."
Sabin relaxed again, leaning back.
He felt Edgar's soft breath, raising hairs on the back of his neck and forcing a sound to come low out of his throat. The sound was sucked into his breath when he felt lips on that same spot on his neck.
"Brother?" He gasped as Edgar's lips travelled around Sabin's neck, moving as slowly as the hands that gently pushed away the blankets covering Sabin's body.
"You can't fool me." Edgar whispered into his ear, making the younger man shiver. "I missed you too. That's the second time you've left me."
"I won't do it again." Sabin squirmed in pleasure as Edgar shifted his position until he was on top, tugging Sabin's shirt out of his belt. "Gods, please..." Sabin couldn't say the rest.
This was exactly as Sabin had always imagined it. Edgar was gentle and in control, never taking anything without asking. Sabin would let him take anything he wanted.
Edgar watched his brother's chest rise and fall under him, his eyes looking up with utter and complete trust. It made him want to take everything that was offered. He knew no one else would treat Sabin the way he deserved to be treated. Sabin was a treasure, one that only Edgar could keep.
Sabin pressed his hips up against Edgars', fingers tightening in his brother's long hair, now coming undone from it's precise and elegant tie. Flashes of skin reflected the moon in the dark, but nothing else could be seen. Nothing else needed to be seen, all that there was could be felt. Edgar's hands slipped between Sabin's thighs, preparing him before he entered.
Sabin's knees were flung over his brother's shoulders, his head tilted back and hair damp with sweat. Edgar's smooth movement stole away all words, all actions but Sabin's rhythmic reply.
When Sabin came, the words he had been saying to every lover in his life fell on the ears of the person he most wanted to hear them. "Brother. Brother!"
When they were done, Edgar carefully wrapped Sabin in his blankets and returned to his own bed roll. Sabin passed a hand over his eyes, lying on his back and looking up. "...Love you, Edgar."
Edgar smiled to himself. "I love you, Sabin."
He did. And Edgar knew that no one, no one else could take care of his brother.