It was maybe a bit embarrassing to admit, but it took T'senri whole two weeks to truly understand how fucked he was. Or rather… how much he wanted to be fucked…
And the brave, fearless Warrior of Light was terrified by that.
The first hint should have been obvious – that second day when G'raha invited him to his tent, he never should have accepted. Inside it everything, every single surface, and thing smelled like the historian – and when that scent, a mix strangely reminding him of cinnamon and almonds, assaulted his nose… he should have run and never looked back.
Not many knew that Hydealyn's Blessing somehow made all of his senses much, much sharper. And with his already natural keen sense of smell typical for Miqo'te – it was more of a curse than a blessing, in his opinion. More often than not, the natural scents of others bothered him and his sensitive nose. Stronger scents – like perfume and some spices – could lead to anything from sneezing to nausea. It was one of the reasons why he tended to avoid physical contact with others as much as possible – gods forbid, some scent would get stuck to him and carried into his nest, wherever that was at the moment.
But G'raha's scent… made him want to purr. And he never purred. But in that Twelve-forsaken tent, he wanted to purr and rub against the historian until the delicious aroma covered every ilm of his body like… like… female in heat. While the man droned on about the long-dead Empire, T'senri faked interest while fighting to curb in the insane need to touch every single thing he could reach while sitting in the middle of the tent's floor – instinctively spreading his own scent. And he was losing miserably.
At least G'raha didn't seem aware of his battle, so adorably enthusiastic about the topic. T'senri couldn't care less – but the way mismatched eyes lit up and the smooth, soothing cadence of the low voice had him hypnotized. So much so he found himself asking questions… and enjoying the answers. Which was more than weird. He liked to think he wasn't stupid, but he definitely wasn't educated either.
Around the Scions, he would sometimes feel… embarrassed about his lack of knowledge that for them seemed so… natural. He comforted himself in the fact that he was a fighter, not a scholar. And growing up, it was hardly expected of him to… know things. It was females who in truth ruled the camp, traded, or interacted with the outside world – he and the other boys were merely there with the sole goal of either becoming a Nunh or leaving once the time comes.
And he – as the camp's sort of… favorite for the position of the breeding male – according to the other boys and many of the females – was spoiled beyond reason. The only expectation they had of him past puberty was to challenge and beat his sire, then get his cock up for the job and service the females in heat – and even with something as simple as that… he failed miserably.
But somehow, two bells in G'raha 's lecture he found he was actually enjoying himself. To the point that when Cid disturbed it by calling the meeting of the whole camp to announce that the fangs made of the gathered the day before aethersand were ready to attempt breaching the gates at Eight Sentinels, he barely choke down a snarl. Only the obvious (cute) enthusiasm of the historian at the news had him take on the usual mask – while internally quite… freaking out. And that should have been the next thing to clue him in on how genuinely fucked he was.
The meeting of the people taking a part in this expedition quickly led him to notice what the woman – Sienna – told him about. The scholars and even some of Cid's men weren't even trying to be polite in the way they avoided his… Twelve, preserve… not his! In how they avoided the historian. The looks, whispers, and barely veiled sneers sent the way of his companion had fine hair and fur across his body bristle. That woman, Sienna, so sure of herself, had the gall to unceremoniously make a free space on the seat next to her and waved at him meaningfully – which he pointedly ignored, firmly planting himself at G'raha's side – grinning at whoever would dare look toward his… historian funny. And if that grin looked more like a silent snarl than anything else… oh, well.
And all the while he was nearly… sniffing the air around G'raha. Which the man seemed blessedly unaware of. Thank the gods for the small miracles!
A few bells later, gates broken – opening the entrance to the ancient labyrinth guarding the access to the Tower itself, T'senri was fuming internally again when Cid protested G'raha joining his sweep through the structure. Not only the sight of disappointment in red-cyan eyes had his insides clench painfully, but in his opinion, he was perfectly capable of keeping the historian safe. And if part of him was aware that he was upset because he wished to show off his abilities and impress the older Seeker… he was so deep in denial he didn't allow himself to dwell on such… ridiculous notions. When that was another thing that should have tipped him off to stay the hell away from the man.
After clearing the labyrinth with the help of a bunch of adventures – called in from the Guild – the expedition got stumped by the massive crystalline gate – that no one seemed able to figure out how to open. The task of finding the answer to that was delegated by Rammbroes to G'raha – who swiftly buried himself in the tomes and parchments discovered inside the nooks and crannies of the labyrinth. As the only one who knew the ancient Allagan fluently, it was a logical choice – and the historian seemed genuinely excited about this. And T'senri hardly minded – using his Echo as the excuse to join in on that task.
That for the comfort, the books and tomes G'raha stuffed inside his already overcrowded tent… was a blessing and a curse in one. A week into the search for answers, T'senri was finding it more and more difficult to pretend that anything in those books interested him more than the features of his mostly silent companion. Constantly surrounded by that maddening scent – he caught himself admiring in numb awe the line of G'raha's jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his long dark-red lashes framed the unique irises, the subtle moves of the muscles as he turned the pages. And if they were forced to leave the tent – for meals and any other physical needs – he found himself following the historian like a… lost kit.
He was beyond embarrassed about that… but just couldn't help himself. G'raha's scent had its hooks in him already so deep – parting with it was painful. He was almost proud of himself whenever the historian would leave him alone briefly and despite the temptation he did not snatch any of his shirts to use later as a pillow.
As the night drew in – and the time when he would reluctantly return to his own tent approached – they would talk. They would exchange stories and anecdotes from their life – opinions, and thoughts – and he grew increasingly fascinated with the man.
G'raha was brilliant, his head so full of knowledge and facts it blew T'senri's mind! And he never seemed to mind his company – instead always welcoming him with a lovely smile and nearly… sparkling eyes. And whenever he would leave for the night, he looked no less disappointed than the Warrior felt… and he honestly didn't get it. Because at the same time, the historian seemed completely, utterly unaware of the effect he had on him. Somehow he even seemed oblivious to his own charms – and considering he knew of T'senri's preferences and yet never seemed bothered or uncomfortable around him… it confused the seven hells out of him.
The second week into the search, T'senri was literally losing his mind and finally, he had to admit – to himself at least – that he was helplessly in love with the historian. And yet what he felt for G'raha was so completely different than his feelings before for Thancred. While convinced he loved the older Scion – his feelings were based on admiration for the man and yearning for his attention but… completely platonic.
With G'raha, though… Twelve preserve, T'senri had simply no idea he could want like that. As pointless as it was – he suffered from a nearly permanent erection around the historian. Each night when he went back to his tent – his head still full of that maddening scent – he had to release the tension in his own hand. And it was more than pointless because males were not supposed to… with each other… right?
That's what made him even more embarrassed about the whole thing that should be possible. What made his wants feel even more… shameful and unnatural. Despite lusting after the older Seeker, his mind simply drew… blank when he tried to imagine following that… desire.
Not that he would ever dare! His experience with Thancred taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget! As ashamed and disappointed as he felt after his kind rejection – his heart simply… wilted at the idea of G'raha's. The thought that he would see pity in the mismatched eyes or the historian would start to avoid him… scared the seven hells out of him.
He liked G'raha. He was fun and he even never seemed to mind his snarking as T'senri would grow self-conscious about his… lacks of knowledge or nervous if G'raha would catch him… staring. He didn't comment on his embarrassing blushes and awkwardness – seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that it was his presence that caused them! He and his intoxicating scent…
Until it, all came into a head one night, and while G'raha seemed consumed by lecture – sprawling belly-down on his blankets while T'senri sat cross-legged near his bedroll with a tome in his lap he was pretending to be reading. Pretending because his eyes were constantly drawn toward slow, lazy flicks of the fluffy red tail and suddenly he had the most insane image in his head. An image of crawling over on top of the older Seeker, splaying against his back and rubbing his body all over his taut muscles until his delicious scent permanently sinks into his skin. Of pinning him down with his weight, biting at the strangely tempting spot at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and rutting his suddenly extremely painful erection against the tantalizing curve of his ass.
And while his head was so utterly busy with that picture, G'raha suddenly looked up at him and caught his gaze – and while he almost whimpered in the mix of shame and arousal, the historian had the great idea to smile and ask T'senri if he wanted him to kiss him. Like it was… normal! And while his body screamed 'yes, yes, please, yes!' his mind simply withered in terror! Because that question meant that as sure as he was that G'raha was unaware and he was managing to hide his… want – he was oh, sooo very wrong.
So T'senri did what any brave Warrior of Light would do – he bolted and no matter how painful it was, he swore off ever approaching the man alone again!
G'raha was worried. And to say he was cursing his own stupidity was an understatement of an Era!
The next morning after he uttered his senseless question when T'senri didn't appear at his tent's entrance as he did every previous day – so full of grins and customary snark – he didn't think much of it.
He believed he had to be wrong – thinking then that the spark he saw heating up the icy-blue irises was desire. Knowing of T'senri's preferences he thought… but, of course, it was ridiculous! To ever dare to assume that the powerful, beautiful Warrior of Light could be interested in someone like… him? No wonder he bolted as he did!
G'raha just hoped his slip of sanity wouldn't put their friendship in jeopardy…
That hope, however, was quickly dashed as when he finally saw the Warrior – at breakfast served at the canteen tent – T'senri was polite, grin in place and his eyes more than ever reminding G'raha of shards of ice. But when he tried to subtly approach him and apologize… younger Seeker swiftly excused himself and left the camp. Only from the overheard the next day gossip did he learn that the Warrior returned late into the evening and shut himself into his tent without uttering a word to anyone.
As the days passed and that pattern seemed to be a new norm, G'raha grew simply terrified that he ruined their friendship with that… stupid question.
While he knew he should be happy that the Warrior deemed him of all people worthy of his company… as the days spent together went on, as he get to know the man better, he couldn't help his growing… curiosity.
As sad excuse as one could call G'raha's sex life before coming to Eorzea – he did have a few lovers, but all females. He knew that the opposite was possible – he saw aplenty of same-sex couples back in Old Sharlayan – he just simply never felt an interest in other males.
Until T'senri.
In the beginning, he put it off as a fascination with the man as the alive example of the heroes he only read about until then. Then he was… astonished and grateful that the younger Seeker would choose to accompany him nearly… constantly, despite the looks it was gaining around the camp. As common a thing as it was back home, he wasn't sure if the Warrior realized that at least half the camp was already convinced they were lovers. At least judging by the jealous looks he was now nearly constantly the target of, from more than a few disgruntled females during the shared meals.
And despite knowing it wasn't true… apparently, he let it get to his head! But he would have to be blind not to see the reason for the unwarranted jealousy. T'senri Tia was not only famous and so obviously admired by the people of Eorzea – he was as well a beautiful man. The longish inky-black hair surrounded his handsome – if a bit sharp – features and beautifully complemented his pale carnation prone to adorable blushes, while his expressive ice-blue eyes were surrounded by the thick veil of jet-black lashes that gave them a charm that simply stole one's breath away. He was a head taller than G'raha and his muscular build definitely caught interested eyes around the camp – not to mention his seemingly easy-going attitude drew people toward him. Even if most people around them – if not all – seemed completely unaware that most of the Warrior's grins were utterly fake. Or notice how he seemed to… despise physical contact with anyone.
Other than G'raha, that is… and that was beyond heady. Stuck together as they were inside the tent crowded by heaps of tomes and delicate parchments – the occasional touches were simply unavoidable, but to his surprise after his observations – T'senri didn't seem that… bothered by it. Sometimes while he was busy with a lecture the other Seeker would sometimes lean against his back and read over his shoulder – or so he assumed, anyway. That more than once at such occasion he could almost swear it seemed like the Warrior was sniffing him… was so absurd he swiftly chased those thoughts away. That had to be a figment of his imagination… right? Maybe prompted by the fact that T'senri himself smelled simply… divine. Maybe a bit uncharacteristically for such a masculine male – but his scent reminded G'raha somehow of fresh apples. And somehow it didn't take long for it to simply permeate everything inside his tent – including him. Only – a bit disappointingly if he permitted himself to admit that – his bedroll seemed free of the delicious aroma as, despite G'raha's shy invitations, T'senri simply refused to get anywhere near it.
More often than not, he found his gaze simply drawn away from the text that usually would consume his attention to the curve of T'senri's pretty lips. But as days passed by – as separated from the culture and customs of his people as G'raha grew up – he wasn't sure how to express his… interest in the man. Knowing from that first conversation by the campfire that the Warrior preferred males didn't change in G'raha's mind the fact that he was simply intimidated by him. T'senri Tia was just too… perfect. From the way he looked to the feline grace he moved with and the snarky sense of humor that made G'raha snort inelegantly at worst times – he made him fluster like a moron, all awkward fumbling and blushes he tried to cover with weak acts of pretend-confidence. That the Warrior seemed blissfully unaware of his… attraction to him was a blessing and a curse in one.
Until he uttered that idiotic question and seemingly completely freaked out the younger Seeker! And he could only blame himself! Even for a second believing that a man like that would be interested in him…? G'raha was a… nobody. A freak-eyed tribe reject as the students and professors around the Old Sharlayan would never let him forget. Even the few who would surprisingly find him… worthy of their beds later were too ashamed to be seen with him in public and discarded him like… trash. No matter how much he tried and hoped – nobody ever truly wanted him.
That seemed to be his… fate.
And to dare believe that the Warrior of Light would want him? He was beyond embarrassed about the pure naivety he showed with that senseless inquiry!
But as the days of T'senri avoiding ever staying with him alone went by… he missed his warm presence and snarky comments. As the Warrior's scent waned and slowly disappeared from his tent, G'raha's gut… clenched with misery. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep… even the ancient tomes didn't manage to take his mind off the T'senri's painful absence. And each moment he cursed his big mouth and stupidity!
Finally, on the night of the fifth day of the Warrior's avoidance, he gathered his courage and determination, and despite his insanely pounding heart, G'raha found himself at the side of T'senri's tent, intending to apologize for his slip of sanity and beg forgiveness – hoping they can go back to being friends.
The tent was lit up from inside – suggesting Warrior's presence and the fact that he was awake – but there was no sound breaking the silence and the stillness of the camp. Late as it was – nearing a bell past midnight – all the scholars and engineers already turned into their tents, leaving not much more than embers cracking in dying campfires. Gloom typical for Mor Dhona set around the area, giving it sort of an otherworldly feeling and G'raha felt almost like in some sort of strange dream as he stilled his spine and took a deep, steadying breath.
"T'senri, are you awake?" he whispered – knowing that it wouldn't be an issue for their sensitive hearing… and praying that the Warrior didn't choose to ignore him. He exhaled slowly and his ears twitched at the sound of the movement inside the tent but fought to keep them and his tail in neutral positions when the flap of the tent was pushed open and narrowed, icy-blue eyes darkened considerably and turned to unreadable shards of ice as the Warrior's pretty lips thinned into a sharp line. Was he… upset? G'raha almost withered and briefly considered bolting… but instead he raised his chin stubbornly and took another deep breath. "I need to… talk to you."
"I don't think that's a good idea," the younger Seeker said slowly, now carefully avoiding his eyes and staring at the camp over his shoulder. Then he cleared his throat and frowned. "You should go back to your tent, G'raha."
"T'senri…" he hesitated, swallowing thickly and stepping from one foot to the other as his ears involuntarily fell flat against his head in misery. "…please? Just give a moment of your time."
The Warrior worked his jaw visibly, then sighed deeply and without another word backed inside the tent, leaving G'raha free to follow – or not. He did, of course, nervous as seven hells as he closed the flap behind him. Never before in the Warrior's tent, he couldn't help but look around with curiosity. It was much bigger than his own – letting the younger Seeker stand in it upright without his head touching the ceiling – but surprisingly… empty. While inside G'raha's nearly every surface other than his bedroll was covered with tomes and parchments – T'senri's barely contained a massive bedroll filled with a messy heap of blankets and a few bags stacked neatly by the wall opposite it. He couldn't help but think it looked like the Warrior was any moment prepared to pack up and just… leave. And the idea simply… scared him.
He finally took another deep, calming breath and fought his embarrassing blush… and involuntarily, instinctively taking on a slightly submissive stance, he neared the silent Warrior who stood in the middle of the tent with his arms folded over his wide chest – watching his every move with… strangely predatory focus. Chasing off the ridiculous notion, G'raha stopped right in front of him and looked up into the darkened, icy-blue irises.
"T'senri, I wanted to…" was the only thing that left his throat before the Warrior suddenly, without a warning, leaned in from his impressive height and stole his breath with an awkward, uncertain kiss.
Younger Seeker straightened quickly, dropping his arms to his sides and while G'raha stared in wide-eyed astonishment and with a slack jaw, T'senri blushed furiously until the color of his face rivaled older Seeker's fiery hair and closed his eyes – but not before G'raha saw the telltale glint of shame and vulnerability in the icy irises.
And suddenly it all just… clicked inside his head, and he almost wanted to slap himself for his stupidity!
What he knew from books of Seekers tribes' customs… Males didn't have much more than a breeding role in them. And while he grew up in Old Sharlayan – where same-sex relationships were a common enough thing… for T'senri, whom that first night admitted that he left his tribe because the females wouldn't leave him alone, pestering him to take the position of the Nunh…? Now… looking at the shame written all over the handsome features, he could easily imagine that the Warrior saw his own preference as… unnatural. And it made G'raha's heart… ache.
To be ashamed and resent himself for something he had no control over… oh, he knew that feeling all too well.
Before he could chicken out or even think of it better while feeling his face simply blaze with blush and his heart jump in his throat – he lifted his shaky hands and placed them on the Warrior's shoulders, then when the icy-blue eyes shot wide open in surprise, he pulled him down again and pressed his lips against the younger Seeker's. When T'senri gasped – his eyes glassy in shock – G'raha used it to taste him, plunging his tongue into Warrior's mouth.
And he tasted… marvelous. And while his inexperience was simply… glaring, with the way he stilled utterly and even stopped breathing – when his seemingly completely involuntarily, deep, and inviting purr vibrated on G'raha's lips while his tongue with heartbreaking uncertainty met his… it completely blew his mind.
Without breaking the contact of their lips, he moved his right hand from T'senri's shoulder to sink his fingers into inky-black hair (so soft!) and tilted his head slightly, making exploring his delicious mouth easier. And when the Warrior's tantalizing scent filled with arousal and his big hands shot up to wrap around G'raha's jaw… he almost expired. More than a bit shocked about the strength of his sudden desire – he didn't really have a space of mind to wonder about it as by the seconds T'senri's mouth grew more and more confident – aggressive – and soon he was devouring G'raha's mouth while feeding him tiny, insanely arousing mix of growls and purrs.
Losing himself in the intoxicating mix of those noises and the addictive flavor filling his mouth, swallowing both greedily, and nearly whimpering for more – on pure instinct he shoved the Warrior back, until he tumbled back with a surprised gasp to his bedroll behind him, looking up at him with huge, dazed ice-blue irises and furious blush on his pale skin. Unable to collect his thoughts – drowning in the haze of the scent of the apples – G'raha mindlessly climbed his lap and took his pretty mouth again, fisting both hands now in almost too-soft inky-black hair and humming with instinctive satisfaction when T'senri moaned softly under his lips, then wrapped his arms around him in an almost bruising grip. He didn't mind… couldn't mind as his Warrior's addictive taste filled his head with static, his scent (so delicious!) made his heart stutter and pound in turns so loudly between his ears… thinking was impossible. And when those tiny sounds started again – those growl-purrs – shooting down his throat – he couldn't help how each thrummed down his spine and right into his cock.
They kissed… and kissed… and kissed… breaking apart only for quick, desperate breaths and going back to it without a conscious thought… and G'raha simply couldn't get enough. And T'senri – as obviously inexperienced as he was – learned in a flash, soon without much effort tearing helpless mewls and whimpers from his throat. And with each of those Warrior's confidence and purely male aggression grew – until G'raha felt like he was eaten alive… and he relished in that.
And yet… soon something else pierced through the fog filling his head. As heated and devouring were his kisses – T'senri's arms around him wouldn't move. He held him so tight against his chest – oh, so busy eating him alive while his purrs gave way to hungry growls and quiet snarls – but he didn't even try to otherwise touch him. And that piqued G'raha's curiosity something fierce.
As if to confirm his observation, he shifted slightly in the tight squeeze of muscular arms until his aching erection brushed against T'senri's. And if he was being honest – he was only mildly surprised when his Warrior froze up instantly with a choked, surprised whine.
G'raha pulled back, panting and licking the addictive flavor of his lips instinctively while watching his Warrior's confidence evaporate and something almost like… animalistic terror fill icy irises. Not to mention his handsome face again rivaled G'raha's hair in its shade.
"You never kissed before?" he finally asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. The answer was just too… obvious.
"N-no," T'senri actually squeaked shyly, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly – though his arms tightened around him almost… possessively. And G'raha definitely… liked that. Maybe even too much. His hands still stuck in inky strands, he experimentally brushed his fingertips against the backs of his Warrior's ears – intending it as a sort of reassurance, not much else – but the instant, insanely arousing whimper that passed T'senri's bruised lips and the way he instinctively tilted his head into the gentle caresses turned G'raha's blood to lava. Then the memory of T'senri's seeming unwillingness for physical contact brushed his mind and suddenly the term 'touch-starved' filled his head. But that couldn't be...?
"T'senri…" he hesitated, swallowing hard and wondering how to… approach that without distressing his Warrior even more than he apparently was at the moment. G'raha sighed softly then, while his companion looked thoughtfully distracted by the delicate touch at his ears – such sensitive area for their kind – he carefully started to use his fingers to gently massage the soft, delicate fur. That in barely mere seconds his powerful Warrior nearly melted against him into a happily purring mass of lax muscles – his eyes half-lidded in bliss and pretty lips parted in astonishment – somehow, despite how arousing the sight was, at the same time made the historian's heart almost break. Because obviously… it could. "T'senri, why you don't like to touch others… so much?" When you so obviously need it?
"The scents," younger Seeker murmured as if in a daze over his now near-deafening, blissed-out purrs. "My nose… is much, much more sensitive than… normal. Because of the… Blessing. Strong enough smell… and I get sick. Or sneeze like crazy… and it's… em-embarrassing," he took a deep breath, then moaned brokenly, dropping his head against older Seeker's shoulder. "But you… you smell s-so n-nice, G'raha… like mixed spices… s-so tasty…" if possible his purrs grew even louder, then he shyly nuzzled against G'raha's throat, taking another deep breath – and his heart stuttered, as he suddenly realized that he wasn't imagining things when he thought that the Warrior was sniffing him! All those days ago… oh, Thaliak… Now his face was simply ablaze!
He wrapped one arm around T'senri's neck, pulling him closer while with the other keeping up the delicate caress on his ear – while all the while his thoughts simply… raced. How was this….travesty even possible? Were all the people around the Warrior simply… blind?
"T'senri… were you never… in l-love?" he asked delicately, soothingly running his fingers through the inky-black strands.
"I thought… I was," his Warrior breathed against the skin of his throat as his arms again tightened around him now definitely possessively. "Thancred, another Scion and my b-best friend… But he w-wasn't in-interested," he admitted with a heartbreaking shame ringing in his low, deep voice. "He was kind… a-about it… but… and anyway, now… what I felt for h-him… Is so, so different than… y-you. I'm… I'm sorry, G'raha – that I a-avoided you like… that, but…" he choked down, then chuckled sheepishly, humorlessly. "Thancred's rejection… h-hurt… but if… if you… would…" he trailed off on a breathless whimper, coiling his arms around him almost painfully.
G'raha stared numbly at the wall of the tent behind his Warrior's back, blinking slowly and trying to make sense of T'senri's words. Because… if how it sounded was right – a man he barely dared to call a friend just admitted to being in love with him! And that was just… too much to process. Instinctively, he purred soothingly against T'senri's shoulder while still petting his ear and combing his fingers through the too-soft hair, until his Warrior almost involuntarily relaxed against him, soon again making his ears twitch with the near-deafening purrs that now as well vibrated against his skin… and gods… but he definitely liked that.
Whom was he kidding…? G'raha closed his eyes with a tiny sigh, and while drowning in the intoxicating scent of apples, sent a silent thanks to the unfamiliar Scion who was stupid enough to let go of this perfect man's feelings. Determined, he wouldn't make the same mistake.
Side note:
When I wondered *how* to make Senri smell for Raha - somehow the 'apples' came to mind by itself, so I stuck with that since it seemed *cute* - only writing this chapter I kinda realized that *together* it would pretty much make them smell like an apple pie [ROTFL!] - which somehow makes it even better! xD