Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Kaleidoscope	By : anyasy Category: Final Fantasy Games > Final Fantasy XII Views: 1082 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Kaleidoscope
- 1
[A/N: Seven beginnings for oceanic blue, about 1k words each
in average, fluff, smut, angst, weirdness, kink, adventure, mystery.� Yes.�
, I watch Heroes.� I did try to
make a Humor beginning, but Basch kept angsting, I�m sorry.]

Kaleidoscope

1 Red
Strawberries

It started with strawberries.

Being the only two adult males in their group meant that
more often than not, Basch and Balthier ended up sharing rooms, and with
Sundays often being break-days within their journeys, Basch spent most of it in
blessed silence, either in long, languid naps, reading borrowed material from
the town-libraries, or maintaining his gear.�
Balthier spent his break-days, of course, out with Fran, often
disappearing until dusk, and the room would be peacefully free of his cutting
wit and equally sharp curiosity.

To-day was hot even for Rabanastre, however.� The dry season was at its height, and the
sun was harsh even for the desert.� Even
with all the windows flung open the inn room was a little stifling, but Basch
knew Lowtown was just as like to be overcrowded, with most seeking the
shadows.� Vaan and Penelo had retreated
to the Waterways, and he was contemplating following suit when Balthier stepped
into the room, simultaneously unbuckling his leather vest while balancing an
earthenware bowl.�

Vest, then shirt, and Basch found himself treated to the
sight of a sleek back, scarred by an outlaw�s life, as Balthier sat as close as
possible to a window against his bed, legs curled beneath him, the bowl in his
lap half full of strawberries.� The sky
pirate ate like a cat: delicate little mouthfuls, then using fingers and the
back of his palms to swipe up red juice from his chin, and a pink tongue to
clean that in turn.�

It was hypnotic, and Basch momentarily forgot that he was about
to leave for the cooler underground.

Balthier only noticed the ex-Captain�s staring after the
fourth strawberry.� He arched an eyebrow
over his shoulder, looked down at the fruit, then tilted his head.� �Want some?�

�I was not aware strawberries were in season.� Basch said,
his mouth a little dry.� How had he not
noticed the velvety play of muscle under tanned skin before, or how wickedly
alluring that sly smile was? It had to be the dry heat and the thirst it
brought, Basch thought: before this, he had only thought of Balthier as �the
pirate�, or �one of the young ones�.�
But then he had been distracted of late, to now, first with lingering
health problems from two years of malnutrition and torture, then service of his
liege, then the death of an old friend.�

Balthier�s grin turned playfully secretive.� �They aren�t.�

�Did that not cost��

�Before you sell me out to the princess, try one.� Basch
found himself fumbling a tossed berry, then eating it self-consciously.� It was chilled, somehow, and wonderfully
juicy.� Heaven.� Laughter informed him that some of his bliss
must have shown on his face.� �Now come
here if you want to share.�

He hesitated, then padded over to sit on the very edge of
Balthier�s bed, though the bowl remained in the pirate�s lap.� �Um.�

�Well, go on.� No
need to be shy.� Balthier�s eyes were dancing, and this time he swept his
tongue slowly around the tip of the strawberry before taking a bite.�

It would be far too much effort to decide whether the sky
pirate was flirting or whether that was simply the way he enjoyed the berries,
and besides, soon all too embarrassing.�
There was only so much he could blame the heat for the flush in his
cheeks, and Basch lowered his eyes quickly.�
�I think I should go to the waterways to cool off.�

�Pft.� You and
everybody.� Balthier dropped another berry into his hands.�

Juice ran down his chin despite his best efforts, and the
trimmed beard made it impossible to repeat Balthier�s methods.� Basch hesitated, then hissed when the sky
pirate shifted on the bed, and he felt a tongue run over his chin, slow and
hot, up the trail to his lips, frozen in shock.�

Balthier looked a little disappointed when he pulled away,
walnut-brown eyes raking searchingly over his face, but hid it quickly in a
grin.� �I suppose that ends up as a
draw.�

�A� a draw?� Basch struggled to keep up, his skin still
tingling, his mind still numb.

�Fran said you would be more than happy to engage in a
little bed-play.� I said you were likely
celibate since you gave neither of us either so much as a glance, and that you
would likely break my nose for trying.��
Balthier�s grin was bared-teeth and all cheek.� �No response probably counts as a draw.�

�I�m not celibate,� Basch frowned, his mind grasping the
foremost problem he had with that little tidbit, then the next.� �Wait, you and Fran were making bets
on��

�Happens to anyone I am even remotely interested in.�
Balthier shrugged.� �Once I made a
comment about vicarious pleasures, though, and she would not speak to me for a
week.�

Basch only realized that he had been staring at Balthier in
stunned silence then the pirate�s smile faded and there was a little shrug of
bronzed shoulders.� The younger man
turned back to the window, and the next strawberry was eaten without ceremony
or the elaborate, catlike self-cleaning.�
�Yes, Captain, I prefer men and have known since I was a child.� No, it had nothing to do with some sort of
latent childhood trauma from losing my mother.� The drawl was singsong and held
just the faintest edge of defensiveness.

At that, he began to chuckle, making an effort to gather his
thoughts.� �I should say the same for
myself.�

Balthier�s gaze snapped back sharply to his eyes, his
expression searching, suspiciously looking for any trace of mockery.� �Hm.�
Do you now.� And there was an unspoken but you didn�t, between
them.

�Did courtship rituals change drastically in the two years I
was imprisoned?� Basch said this with a lopsided smile to soften the jibe.

�And what, pray tell, were the �courtship rituals� you were
used to?� Balthier�s riposte was sharp, but his eyes were gleaming again.

�Several forms, but none include the other party approaching
me with no warning whatsoever and then retreating in disappointment when I
react with shock.� Basch replied dryly, �And then accusing me of celibacy.�

�I would be more than happy to be proven wrong, Captain.�

2 Orange
Convenient pleasures

Basch was reminded of the tawny fur of the hunting-cat when
they tumbled into the pitched guest tent that the Garif had provided for their
use, a sort distance from the encampment proper.� The stretched hides that provided the barest of screens were
mottled with black, and smelled faintly of sun-scorched earth.�

The man in his arms growled, clenching fingers tight around
the buckles of his vest, and bit hard at his lip, and his answering snarl was
only partially human, mostly feline, as he deftly swept long legs out from
under his companion to the heap of furs and the sleeping rolls.� Balthier gasped as the air was knocked from
his lungs, and Basch used the moment to tackle the inconvenient issue of the
vest, the cravat and the shirt.�

His hands gave pause on either side of the sky pirate�s
waist, at the still-fading weals left from a too-close disemboweling swipe by
an angry cat, and he let out a slow, shuddering breath.� Too close, that had been too close, and�

Balthier nudged him in the belly with the heel of his
sandal-boot, his eyes glittering and predatory, his smile sly.� �Derailed a little there, Captain?�

�Balthier, I��

�I only accept physical apologies.� The cat-purr was purely
suggestion, and it made his cheeks heat, as he shifted down to rub his tongue
gently over the parallel lines.� His
hands clamped shut over hips as the sky pirate immediately began to writhe, his
chuckles gasped and long fingers curling tight in Basch�s unruly hair.� �Hey, hey, hey now��

�Ticklish.� Basch grinned and rubbed his nose against the
sky pirate�s navel.� Legs kicked
ineffectively at his side, as Balthier arched and yelped out a string of
fish-market obscenities.

And then he gulped and fell back against the hides, as Basch
rubbed the base of his palm slowly up from between his thighs over the growing
bulge in leather pants, open-mouthed and sly again, spreading his legs, fingers
tickling down wheat-gold sideburns.�

Basch hesitated, fingers resting over black laces, and the
sky pirate�s grin downturned into a pout.�
�Now what?�

�I� I am not sure if� well, it has been a while, for me,
and��

�And you think you�d be too out of practice to please me.�
It was not a question, but the pout dissipated back to the sly smile, the purr
in the sky pirate�s voice deepening to velvet.�
�And perhaps this may surprise you, Captain, but I find that very
erotic.�

He was sure his blush likely now rivaled the most virulent
of sunsets.� �I did not mean to, I
mean�� Basch decided before he dug too deep a pit for his pride to focus
on another topic.� �But you could have
any man you wanted.�

The wicked little laugh was delicious, and stirred the
slowly building warmth in his belly.�
�Very flattering, Basch.� Are you
quite sure you are out of practice?� Something a little closed around
Balthier�s expression told Basch that the sky pirate would not appreciate any
further probing into his personal life, and the Captain made the appropriate
soft huff of almost-laughter, as he worked on freeing the younger man�s
arousal.

Something odd about the musky scent hit him instantly.� Over the sharper smells of need and the
smoky scent that was intrinsically Balthier, was the clean fragrance of
soap.� He looked back up sharply,
arching an eyebrow, and fielded a cheeky grin that was all too knowing.� �Well?�

�I appreciate the thought,� Basch curled long fingers around
the stiffening prick, and held Balthier�s darkening eyes as he slowly lapped up
flushed flesh to the curve of the swollen head, over the folds of skin, around
the tip, then back down again.� The sky
pirate was as vocal as he had expected, writhing under the free hand that held
him down to the hides, mewling and whispering any number of lewd suggestions.

Ashe and the others were still conversing with Larsa and the
Garif Great-Chief in the Chieftain�s tent, and Fran was elsewhere.� Thankful for the small pocket of free time,
Basch murmured, �If at any time you feel I am��

�Just suck me now, please,� Balthier said stiffly, his eyes
fixed at patterns of skin above them.�

Basch hid a smile, even as the edge of desperation to those
words made his own prick pulse.� �I feel
�tis an important point to make.�

�You�ve made it very clear,� Balthier�s fingers were pulling
insistently at his hair.� �Captain,
please.�

Two �pleases� were probably the limit that he could get for
this.� Basch inclined his head with mock
solitude, and made sure to hold down bucking hips as firmly as he could as he
wrapped lips around eager flesh.� He
didn�t immediately move, prompting an exasperated wail from the younger man,
instead squeezing fingers near the base of the shaft, lapping at the leaking
tip with a questing tongue.�

The backs of Balthier�s sandal-boots were scraping
impatiently over his shoulders.� �Basch,
more, Basch, please� Gods, more!�

He shook his head, causing a whine, continuing to lap until
the bitter-salt taste became a little more pronounced, then smiled around flesh
and inched down, careful of the gag reflex.�
Only when he had taken as much as he could into his mouth did he begin
to curl his tongue around Balthier�s prick and suck, squeezing the remaining
flesh in time to contractions in his throat.�
The sky pirate�s choking groans as he built towards completion sent
answering jolts of heat in his belly and loins, and he began unconsciously to
rub himself against the piled hides on which they rested.

Fingers pulled up insistently at his scalp, and Basch looked
up into dazed eyes and a shaking head.�
�Wait, wait.� Yourself.�

�It�� Basch took a breath.�
�It does not matter.�

Balthier�s grin was purely salacious, even though his eyes
remained unfocused.� �Let me taste you
as you suck me.�

�How�� Basch paused, as one perfect eyebrow arched
sharply.� �Ah.� But I did not��

�Captain, Captain.�
Believe me, I am like to have had worse.� So long as you do not happen to harbor any��

�No.� Basch was blushing again, and it had nothing to do
with the swelling in his shorts.�
�Honestly, Balthier.�

�I know.� I say the
most inappropriate little things.� Now
move over.�

Basch felt all too self-conscious, with his elbows to either
side of the sky pirate�s hips and his knees carefully planted a hand�s breath
from each elfish ear.� Deft fingers
worked out the ties of his clothes and yanked them back efficiently, and
Balthier hummed, low and pleased, at what he saw.� The older man could not help but gasp as elegant fingers teased a
twisting path up the underside of his thick shaft.� �I will have to do this proper justice some other time, I should
think.�

�Oh.� A little disappointed, Basch began to shift, then
hesitated when Balthier moved a hand to grasp the back of his knee tightly.

�And where do you think you�re going?�

�But you said��

�Mm.� Balthier�s response was a slow, hungry lick upwards
that could not have been too comfortable for the angle of his head and oh-Gods�

3 Yellow
Things you know after

It began as it ended, when the nod and the secretive smile
Balthier shot his way before leaving the Strahl for Bahamut was more of
an understanding between friends and companions, than lovers.� That what they had shared, in those few
clandestine moments stolen between the pages of their quaint crusade was truly
but convenience only.� Basch mistook the
sudden clench in his throat and the vise around his heart as heart-pain over
the still-breathing ruin of his brother, than the rogue with the sparrow-wing
hair.

It was only far later and far too late that Basch realized that
in the duality of his loss the latter struck far harder than the former.� He had lost his brother more than a decade
ago, on a battlefield of such still-breathing ruins circled above by birds of
carrion, having chosen personal loyalty to his mother than his knight�s oath to
his country.� Balthier, ah, Balthier,
that loss was fresh, and wounded far more than he could admit.�

Taking up the mantle of his brother�s life and the whirlwind
of immediate training and subterfuge took his mind of dwelling on such
matters.� The last smile and the nod had
proved such sentiment irrelevant, after all,

Receiving the letter a year later was both relief and pain:
that the pirate was alive, that the pirate had not seen fit to inform him
thus.� He buried the parchment in his
desk and the words deep within his heart, and his mind in the legal questions
of State of Archadia vs. Lindermann.�

When he felt he had healed, he returned to Rabanastre, a
little hesitantly, two years after the fact on a diplomatic visit, and noticed
wryly that the memories of his kind were short, or that people tended to look
first at the armor and then at his face.�
No one remembered Basch the Captain, all saw Gabranth the
Judge-Magister.� He strolled down
boulevards that he loved, in the sun-dappled breeze of the brilliant afternoon,
baking quietly in the full-armor, and stopped short before a shaded alley of
side-corner stalls.�

Balthier nodded at him, and smiled his secretive smile, a
little more tanned now, his legs propped up against a sun-bleached whitestone
table, in his hand a glass of chilled pale lemonade.� Fran�s expression did not change, but an ear twitched, then she
whispered something to her companion and got to her feet.� She brushed past him with her inhuman grace,
and in her nod was the elegance of silence: that she was glad he was
well, that she wished him her best.

The sky pirate waved him to a chair, and he sat down,
mechanical and heavy, and let Balthier order him lemonade.�

�You look as though you have seen a ghost,� Balthier said,
conversational and cheeky, and his heart ached afresh.

�In a sense, I have,� he pointed out, a little accusingly,
but the words deliberately slipped past the younger man.

�How have you been?�

�Passable.�
Yourself?� Making small talk when he wished to say more hurt as much as
the fear that Balthier wanted nothing more than friendship, after all.�

�As I always have been.� Balthier�s lazy little grin was all
cat.� �Some thievery here and there,
minor explorations.� I am glad we met by
chance, though.�

�And why is that?�

�I was afraid that I may have given you the wrong
impression,� Balthier said, his voice earnest, though his eyes unreadable.� �That by our� association, throughout being
dragged all over Ivalice by your liege, you may have thought that between us
there was something more than there really was.�

�Ah.� Basch blinked rapidly, as a cold snake wound about his
belly.� �No, no I did not.�

�Good.� For all he had hoped, Balthier�s enigmatic mask
crinkled into boyish relief.� �Because I
did not wish to hurt your feelings, and I did so think there could have been
any manner of misrepresentation.� I
would much rather prefer us friends.�

�What, a Judge-Magister?� Basch exerted all of his
self-control over his features and voice, and kept them wry, indulgent, even as
by the way his heart wrenched he knew all too late that he was in love with
this rogue, but could not unsay the words even if he could push back time.

�Can you imagine any better friend for a sky pirate?�
Balthier countered, and Basch noted that for all his cheek and considerable
intelligence, Balthier was thankfully as yet still too young to see far enough
into the hearts of men.� Friends�
friends was enough for him, if he could have so much.� He could mourn after.

�In recent years I do believe the correct term for �friend�
of a representative of Justice is �informant�.�

�What an ugly word,� Balthier said slyly.� �But of course, in exchange for a blind eye
now and then, I could let some information slip, for old time�s sake.�

Later he almost walked into Fran, on the way out of the
bazaar under the shade of an arch.� Her
expression did not change, but an ear twitched again, and as he walked past she
murmured, �Fools both�, and slipped into the afternoon crowd before he could
respond.

4 Green
Umberto Green and the
Chance Encounter

[Excerpts from Pages in a Gutter Journal, the
reprinted manifesto Ed. 3 of Umberto Green, the Archadian �Gutter
Prophet�.� Note: Word is still out on
whether Green was in fact simply insane or if his insanity was a mask for a
true gift of prophecy.� The �Chance
Encounter� below is one of his less cryptic and more physically complete
recovered journal pages.]

Being a true account, lords-wise of the Wrackenthistle,
of the goldfish race chance encounter with Pineapple Candle and the
Manifest Grin.

Anmenday 2139

Met Pineapple Candle and the Manifest Grin today, beloveds,
on the gutter-wrought junction of the giant watermouth street with the green
fanned tree, oh-yes, as I have said before, beloveds.� But you cannot see them as I can see them.� The Candle is tall, tall like the
Wrackenthistle, with sunpaint fur and stormcloud spheres, beloveds, and the
Grin walks like a cat; all ways are one to him.� His mind is sharp, knives-sharp, beloveds, and you know how
knives are.�

I call alms to them as I pass, and they spake thus to me.

�Do not bother.�
That�s just Umberto Green.� They
call him the Gutter Prophet.� The Grin spoke thusly, beloveds, and his
knives-sharp mind was swirling, yes-yes.�
I made the gesture of the Windspear Enigma fast, fast, and turned back
the knives-sharp too quick.� Umberto is
too quick for Grin.� �He happens to be
an almost celebrity member of Archadia�s homeless.�

�Nonetheless.� Poor
man.� Pineapple is as pineapple goes, not so prickly as knives, and he throws a
little fragment of sun Green�s way, that I hasten to pick before it disappears
on the dirt.� The ground eater King is
hungry to-day, and I must make offerings, yes-yes.�

Little sun fragments buy Wrackenthistle, of course,
beloveds, I have told you so.� I spake
thus to them: four winds tomorrow and five winds beyond the realm of the
Sun-Gate Prince, turn left at the tower tree to find your way.� Heart�s blood calls to heart�s blood and you
will see this six winds and eight winds beyond in the sand-hunt place in the
shadow-tree-copse.�

�That sounded fairly�� Pineapple is more receptive than
Grin.

�He does a brisk business out of this from old women,� Grin
has sharp knives that show even in the sharp mouth-whistle, beloveds, and I
make the Sign again, to be safe.� �Were
we not to meet Ashe at the Aerodrome?� Without waiting for Pineapple, Grin
trots off, cat paws, beloveds, all places, and one.

Pineapple Candle stops, for three mandrels, and gives
another sun fragment with a thermo smile.�
�Get something to eat, old man, and get out from the sun.�

Kindness and little sun fragments buy translated
Wrackenthistle into the barbaric tongue of these wingless, and yes-yes, as kind
and sky-above as Pineapple is, I could see he is like the rest of the wingless:
they but think most to lay with their secret-beloveds.� Here I knew a way, in all the skeins I could
then see.� I spake thus to him: Buy
lemon honey on the Phon Coast four days from now, beloveds, the ice-glass from
the red snake-hiss man, and speak to your secret-beloved of Drac fon
Ronsenburg.

Pineapple�s soul-openings shuttered fast.� �My father? How do you know of�� Ah, the
secret-soft smile.� �You really are a
prophet, are you not, old one?�

The Wrackenthistle was slipping, so I did a little sun-caper
jig, and bowed, when Grin manifested, looking cloud-gray.� �Basch.�
Stop wasting time.�

�Balthier��

While they exchange little invisible bug knives I slip away,
yes-yes, silent as an owl bat into the warm shadows, to the gutter prince�s
lair.� With enough sun fragments I will

Ah.

But you knew

This

Already now, beloveds.�
Clever, clever little loves!

5 Blue
Club Tomorrow

Basch understood the previously incongruous need for
colorful masquerade masks only on his first step through the discreet backalley
cellar door to the (in)famous Club Tomorrow.�

Archadia�s reputedly most expensive nightclub looked as
though it deserved every bit of that title.�
The door opened to a huge square room that was lavishly, decadently furnished,
with maroon and white low divans and couches squaring small crystal tables, the
ground thickly carpeted in odd hues of cobalt mottled to oceanic blues,
contrasting with the thickly carved pots holding lustrous jungle fronds.� Paintings of semi-naked men and women hung
against the walls, though Basch could not quite see the point in the dim light:
the only illuminance soft glows set into the ground and roving strobes,
above.�

There was a dance floor, where people in varying stages of
undress ground against each other, to the thrumming beat of over-loud,
manic-paced music from the band at the platform, the drums and sitars somehow
amplified.�

Above, suspended in four cages with metal poles down the
centres, several dancers were writhing in the most suggestive manners: he could
not quite call it dancing.� His eye was
caught by a lithe, male form, in the cage to his left, the mask a jeweled black
stylized fox that covered most of his face.�
Lips were bared into a feral grin of panting pleasure; his back bowed
against the pole.� Black collars with
gold buckles adorned a slender neck, wrists and ankles, and a small black
leather vest hung over muscular shoulders, cut loosely such that gyrations
occasionally flashed silver nipple rings.�
The hip-cut black leather pants looked spray-painted on, and were
obviously cut with lewd intent: the zipper was back-to-front, with the
beginning a matching silver ring that hung over the cleft of the man�s pert
rump.� The pants were folded into
high-heeled black boots that sported any number of irrelevant silver buckles.

Basch only realized he was staring when his chief aide
Meridian tugged laughingly at his elbow.�
�Sir, the table.�

�Oh.� Right.� He tore
his gaze away with some effort.� The
elaborate mask with its long black feathers made it difficult to ascertain the
color of the man�s hair, and besides, it couldn�t be.� Easy grace was natural to dancers, after
all, it need not be him.

He was dressed fairly conservatively compared to the rest,
in a reluctantly open white shirt and dress oxblood breeches, and was a little
scandalized to realize that at least half of his associate team were dressed
very much like the dancers in the cages.�
Some of his surprise must have shown even through the wolf�s mask.

Meridian chuckled at him as she pulled him onto a space in
the couches, and Jian pressed a cold drink of some sort of virulent turquoise
into his hands.� �Those up there are not
professionals.� I�ve been up myself,
once or twice.�

�Meridian��

�It can be great fun,� she said, with her self-confident
smirk, �And besides, the byword of Club Tomorrow is discretion.� The masks and the agreement you signed
before you entered help.�

�Try not to horrify our dear lord and master any more than
necessary, Meridian,� Ophelo, one of the veterans of his inherited team, was
dressed like a stylized hawk, feathered vests and all, and his grin was sharp
and playful.� �We are supposed to
be celebrating his birthday.�

�Somehow I would not have imagined that it would be in such
a place,� Basch said dryly, and his team sniggered in a most unprofessional
manner.

�And why not, Gabranth?� Isalia was dressed quite indecently
for a fresh-faced graduate, he thought, in a far-too-short skirt.� �Come on, we saw what you did on your last
birthday.�

�I did not do anything on my last birthday��

�That�s our point,� Meridian said, settling back in
the couch as though she had won the argument, and raising her glass.� �To new tomorrows.�

The toast sparked a flurry of other toasts, starting with
his birthday, and meandering down towards odder and odder topics.� It was around toasts to various cats and
dogs that Basch realized he could no longer remember how many strangely colored
alcohol drinks he had already had, and that the room was very comfortably warm,
with a soft buzz about his ears.� His
gaze turned back up to the cages: the dancers had already changed shifts,
somehow, when he had been chatting with his team.�

Alcohol made him miss Meridian disappearing for a moment all
too long for a washroom break, returning with a grin that was all too
feigned.� �We�ve a last present for you,
Gabranth.�

�And what is it?� Basch asked, mellowed by drink and the
throbbing beat of the music with its background of human sound.

�It�s a surprise, and you�d have to come upstairs with me.�

�There�s an upstairs?� Basch asked, frowning a little, but
obeyed easily enough.� The rest of the
team waved as he was dragged through the crowd, up to a discreet door set
behind a Chiantze screen.� The heavyset
man at the door nodded at Meridian, and opened it.�

A long set of stairs afterwards, they were at a plushly
carpeted corridor in wavering shades of blue.�
From the few doors they passed still ajar, Basch registered bedrooms
with somewhat of a growing sense of panic. �He liked his Chief Aide, of course, and she was certainly pretty,
but she was affianced (and hell, he was invited to her wedding), and most
importantly, his tastes tended to run the other way.� Quickly, he stopped short, flushing.� �Meridian, I am not sure how to put this, but��

Meridian blinked at him, quickly at first, then
comprehension dawned, and she began to snicker.� It was not a very comforting sound.� �Oh, Gabranth.� Nothing to
that nature, I assure you.� Just your
present, from all of us.�

�Then� the others?� Frowning and a little confused, Basch
allowed Meridian to drag him along in a somewhat undignified way by his wrist,
like a lost waif.

�Busy getting potted, if you remember.� Try to be a little lighter on the workload
tomorrow.��

The second possibility hit him just as she stopped outside a
door and inspected a card in her hands.�
�Meridian, do not tell me, you and the others, bought a��

�Enjoy!� His Chief Aide had a surprising turn of strength
when she wanted to.� Basch found himself
shoved into the room, with the door clicking shut behind him.

Panic sobered him quickly, even as his body tensed
automatically.� The room looked like any
of the other bedrooms he had passed: thickly carpeted in blue, a large four
poster with ornate tapestry covers dominating the end, gold-framed mirrors
lining the sides.� Odd, filmy-looking
scarves hung from a single heavy gold ring at the centre of the ceiling, and
there was an antique dresser to one side.�

The room was dimly lit, and Basch could make out one other
occupant, studying something in the first drawer of the dresser with
interest.� He swallowed, and made a
mental note to kill his team tomorrow, if he did not first die of
embarrassment.� �Er.� I apologize, but I think my� companions have
played an elaborate prank on me, and�� he stopped short, when the man turned
around, with catlike grace.

It was the dancer.�
And this close, the man�s hair, in the pale blue light from the discreet
lamps set to either side of the gold ring, looked as though they could be a
familiar short caramel hue.� Certainly
the lazy smirk under the fox�s mask looked heart-achingly familiar, that
reminded him all too sharply of too many wasted nights wishing for courage.� The man looked him slowly up and down, his
gaze lingering on the flesh shown from the open shirt, very pointedly at his
groin, then back up again to his face.�

Basch was in deep trouble, and he knew it.� He groped quickly behind himself for the
doorknob, but it was locked fast.�

The dancer grinned impishly, his wrist twisting forward with
a conjurer�s slick showmanship, and produced a small silver key through sleight
of hand, which he proceeded to affix to the collar at his neck.� �Now, I understand that it is your birthday,
sir?�

There was no mistaking that accent and the playful
purr.� �Balthier!�

�There are no names in Club Tomorrow, sir,� the dancer
leaned against the dresser and tilted his head.� �If you wish to address me, I am Fox.� I assume you are Wolf.�

A little uncertain now, Basch stared hard at the other man,
but could find no words to voice the questions he truly wished to ask.� �Why are you here?�

�Another inappropriate question, good sir,� the other man
shook his finger at him in mock reproach.�
�I could have you thrown out, by the way. �So take heed, and do try to have a little� fun.�

The velvety way the last word was pronounced stopped his
next question short.� Basch
swallowed.� �What do you have in mind?�

�A little game.�
Stand there, if you please.� Balthier� Fox indicated at a spot on the
ground, below the hanging scarves.�
Basch moved there hesitantly.�
The fringe of the lowest scarf hung near his right cheek.� Again the slow, hungry perusal, that made
him flush deeper, then a purred, �Off with the shirt, sir.�

�Balthier� Fox,� Basch corrected, when the smirk curled
downwards, �Look, if my companions talked you into this, or if they��

�I happen to be very glad they did,� Fox interrupted, with a
lazy lick of his lips.� �Shirt, please.�

When the object in question was discarded at his feet, Fox
crossed one thigh over the other, obviously showing off the flex of muscle
under the too-tight leather, and leant elbows against the edge of the
dresser.� �Hmm.� We�ll play at stakes, you and I.�

�Stakes?�

�If there is enough you do I find pleasing, at the end of
the night, I�ll let you fuck me,� Fox drawled the very end with a silky little
growl that made Basch�s breeches feel somewhat confining.� �We play with my rules, of course.�

�If� If I don�t?� His breath hitched.� That promise was too much, even just
to envisage; his weight shifted uncomfortably.�

�Then I will take my pleasure elsewhere.� Agreed?�

�Agreed.� The word was voiced before he even thought about
it.�

Fox smiled.� �The
point of this game, Wolf, is that you must stand as still as you are able.� And you cannot touch me until I give
permission, and of course, you certainly cannot come until my say-so.� Understand?�

He was dreading this already, but the promise was far too
good, and the cocktails he had previously did not help.� �Agreed.�

�I�ll be kind.� You
can have three mistakes.� After the
fourth, we stop, and you forfeit.� But,�
and the smile was purely predatory now, �You can then choose to be bound.�

That suggestion made his breathing heavier, and his
eyes narrowed behind the mask.� What had
been light material now felt sticky against his flesh, and Basch supposed he
had to be sweating, now.� �Agreed.�

�Very well.� Fox pushed away from the dresser, and walked a
slow round about Basch, looking him over, then stopped behind him, his voice
abruptly serious.� �When did you last
eat?�

Basch blinked rapidly.�
�Dinner.� Esthene.�

�Ah, good.�
Precautions.� There�d also have
to be a safe word, between us.� If you
say �Esper� at any time, we�ll stop.�

�All right.� That was a little more comforting.

�Now.� The purr was back, and Basch sucked in a soft breath
as a hand slid up the valley of his spine, running fingers over the ridges of
old scars.� �We�d have to see about that
stamina of yours, Wolf.�

It was maddening.� Fox
kept his touch light, teasing, now flicking a nipple, then stroking thumbs down
ribs to the hem of his breeches, here brushed lips over his sensitive neck,
there a nip over the lobe of his ear.�
He didn�t notice his hands, clenched at his sides, had slipped forward
to the other man�s hips until Fox laughed, low and wicked.� �One.�

Basch jumped fingers quickly back to his sides.� �Sorry.�

�Mm.� Two more to
go.� And Basch whimpered, shivering, as Fox lowered his head to delicately
suckle one nub of flesh, the feathery-fine fur of the ornate mask brushing over
his chest.� Mirrors at the corners of
his eyes showed the flash of white teeth, against his skin, just as he was
nipped, and a tremor shuddered through his frame to nest in his belly.

�Aah��

The first attentions to his confined prick were just as
wickedly teasing.� Brushing fingers and
all-too-brief squeezes, and low laughter that marked his futile bucks and
plaintive mewls.� When a hand flattened
against his belly and slipped into now-unbuttoned breeches, wrapping only for a
heartbeat against his painfully hard prick, he growled, and grabbed Balthier�s
wrist.

�Two.�

�Fuck.� He clenched fingers back at his sides, closing his
eyes tightly.

�A soldier after all.� Fingers squeezed his rump, making him
yelp, then massaged downwards, deliciously, between his thighs.�

Basch�s breathing became ragged, even as he knew he was on
the very edge of his self-control.�
�Balthier.� Balthier, bind
me.� I can�t.�

�I�ll let that drop,� Fox whispered, the almost imperceptible
rawness indicating that Basch was not the only one susceptible to their
play.� �Your wrists together, please.�

When he was bound fast against the lowest scarf, his elbows
curved comfortably at eye-level, Fox was sober again, his hands pressed lightly
over the flex of shoulders.� �Remember,
there�s a safe word.�

Basch nodded, trying to slow his breathing.� There was something erotic in itself of
being bound for Balthier�s pleasure.�
The younger man smiled, back into role again, and stroked a thigh
between his legs, making him groan, and shrugged out of the small vest.� The rings were a pale robin�s egg blue, in
the light, and his mouth began to water.

Fox caught him staring, of course, amused.� �Like them?�

�I am at somewhat of a� disadvantage to show you,� Basch
whispered, shifting to help the younger man with boots and breeches.� �Balthier, let me kiss you.� Please.�

A low chuckle, even as fingers crept down to wrap again with
blessed friction around his need.� It
seemed �Fox� had conceded the point of names, at least on Basch�s part.� �You�ll have to win that, I am afraid.�

�How?�

A thumb rubbed slowly over the leaking tip, making him buck
insistently.� �Ever used toys before,
Wolf?�

�Um�� Basch let out a long breath.� �Yes, but not��

�Here?� A forefinger pressed delicately into the slit.

Basch could not speak for a long moment, his throat working,
then he frowned as he took control with some effort.� �Would that not be��

�Dangerous? No.� Club
Tomorrow�s provided� toys, are all sterilized, and� �tis not as though it is my
first time doing this.� The grin was sharp.�
�Painful? No.�

Basch took another slow breath, stilling the fluttering
panic.� �I trust you.�

He frowned a little later at the thin, flexible tube,
liberally slicked with something or other that Balthier was quick to assure him
was quite safe, and then he arched with a choked shout as Fox began to push it
slowly and carefully into his prick.�
The stimulation was as nothing he had ever felt, a dizzying
ecstasy that had him leaning most of his weight against the loops of scarves
over his head, panting uncontrollably, already wordless.�

Balthier stopped and sunk to his knees just as Basch felt
the tip curve, inside him, Gods, and the first few lazy licks against
his twitching prick, followed by a delicate, careful twist of the tube, was far
too much stimulation.� He whimpered,
trembling, but the sky pirate was merciless, lapping at him, up the throbbing
vein to the filled tip, curling his tongue around the jutting tube, and back
down to the base of his prick, nosing at coarse curls.� When slicked fingers began to rub against
his opening, Basch began to shudder uncontrollably, enmeshed in ecstasy.

�Balthier� Balthier, I� too much, Gods, Balthier��

�Beautiful,� The whisper was against his thigh, and it was
the final straw: orgasm darkened his vision in an inexorable torrent of ecstasy
almost frightening in its violence.

When he came to, Balthier had somehow managed to get him
onto the bed, and wiping him down with something blessedly cool.� The masks and toy were gone.� Seeing that he was awake, the sky pirate
grinned.� �Three.� The cloth was dipped
into a bowl balanced in the younger man�s lap, then put on the ground next to
the bed.�

Basch growled, deciding that enough was really enough, and
pulled Balthier down to sprawl over him, then just as efficiently rolled over
to pin the other man down.� The sky
pirate smirked, but wrapped thighs over his hips invitingly.� �I take it I�ve won?�

�At least for tonight,� Balthier amended, but Basch was
already pulling his head up, impatient and growling again, deep in his throat,
crushing their lips together.� The
answering laugh was delighted, if muffled, but Basch forced himself to slow
down after another brutal kiss, to something tender.�

When the lithe body beneath him was far more pliable, and
purring, Balthier trailed fingers over the obvious bulge in too-tight
pants.� �Now, how does this work?�

�I am sure you can manage,� Balthier smirked, as he pushed
insistently at Basch�s broad shoulders.�
Basch shifted back on his haunches, as the sky pirate rolled onto his
chest and bared his teeth invitingly over a shoulder.

The silver ring was linked to a catch at the very hem of the
pants.� He toyed with it briefly, for a
moment, then chuckled at the impatient little snarl as he slipped fingers up
and under Balthier instead, to tug at pierced flesh, until the sky pirate was
writhing and clawing at the sheets.�
�Basch!�

Back to names, now, at least, for both of them.� �Hmm?� He settled carefully over the
slighter body, careful to press his stiffening arousal against Balthier�s
leather-clad rump.

�Bloody� damn you, fuck me now, you bastard,�
Balthier muttered, then arched and bucked, as he slipped fingers over the ridge
wrapped in leather.�

�I happen to be the aggrieved party,� Basch reminded him,
but obligingly flicked the clasp open, slowly pulling down the silver zipper
ring, but stopping just before the apex of Balthier�s legs and locking it by
pressing down the ring.� The sky pirate mewled,
recognizing that Basch fully intended to do some �play� of his own, by keeping
his arousal confined.� �Lubricant��

Balthier pointed wordlessly at a jar somewhere next to
Basch�s knee, on the bed.� The first
slicked finger pressed into tight heat made the sky pirate whine, and push
booted toes into the sheets.

Later, buried deep and listening to unsatisfied little
growls muffled into the pillow, his words were a harsh growl that sounded
barely human, as he whispered, �How hard do you want this?�

Balthier�s cursing had turned into street cant, that Basch
could only vaguely understand.� The pert
rump wriggled beneath him, and ground back, but the sky pirate�s voice soon
turned wicked-velvet again, making the older man groan.� �Make me scream.�

It was only when measured thrusts turned into uncontrollable
snaps of the hips punctuated by low groans that he managed to push Balthier�s
voice off the register of moans and mewls to cries, and only when he shifted to
angle himself deeper did that melt to the occasional gasping shriek.� Satisfied, he shifted his weight onto his
right palm, and used his free hand to rub roughly at the confined ridge,
listening to the few incoherent words slip into sobbing breaths, then a final,
wordless yell.� He was not too far
behind.

It was later, with clothes discarded and the warm body
snuggled against him that he asked again, �Why are you here?�

�Mm.� Balthier sounded sleepy.� ��Tis the usual place for the youthful deviant elite to come and
play.� I�ve been a regular of Club
Tomorrow since� mm� since I was legal.�

�You do this often?�

�No need to sound so aghast.� But yes.� The anonymity
makes it fun, now and then.� But usually
I come here to let off a little steam and meet friends from another life.�

They faded to warm, companionable silence, and then the
words that had been gradually developing at the back of Basch�s mind forced him
to give voice.� �Balthier, there�s
something I��

�Tomorrow.� A kiss sealed that promise.

6 Indigo
What the cards say

�Oh, you little shit.� Balthier flips Basch�s cards over in
disgust even as the ex-Captain quietly scoops up the pot.� �You had fucking nothing.�

Small pebbles and shells make up their chips, and Basch
allows himself a faint grin as he shuffles the pirate�s increasingly battered
deck of cards.� Beneath them, the
constructed wooden walkways threading through the Salikawood trees creak
gently, as Fran stretches out cramps in her joints.� Above, the night is an indigo blanket peppered randomly with
stars; they play by the light of a shutter lamp set on the ground beside her.

�Where did you get so good at a game of luck and bluff?�
Vaan asks, having only four pebbles left for himself.� Penelo and Ashe have long since lost their chips, and the
Princess has retired to an early bed.�
The other streetchild hovers about Basch�s shoulder, watching his game.

�For soldiers, games of chance are quite important sources
of extra income,� Basch points out mildly, as he deals cards to Fran, Balthier,
Vaan, then himself.� �Small blind, Vaan,
big blind, myself.� Pebbles crack against each other on the planks.� �Call?�

Fran folds with a delicate flick of her wrists.� Balthier smirks.� �Raise three.�

�Bastard,� Vaan mutters, now left with no pebbles.� Balthier wins by a flush on the last card,
and his grin is wicked as he stacks pebbles by his knee.� Basch grimaces; he knew that he shouldn�t
have been drawn in too deep, once he�d seen the third diamond, but Balthier
tended to bluff.

On the next deal Balthier raises before the flop, again, to an
irritable sniff from Fran.� The fold
turns a king and six of clubs, and a jack of diamonds.� Balthier raises again, and Fran folds.� Basch follows with a shrug; he has a jack
and a seven.�

�I have an ace king,� Balthier says, with a cocky grin.� �Follow at your own risk.�

�I do not believe you, rogue.� And I raise you four.�

�Ooh.� Getting aggressive.�
Balthier�s drawl on the very last word makes Basch glad that Penelo and Vaan
have wandered off, tired from the day�s trek.�
It is difficult to explain blushes when the night breeze is this chilly.

Fran shakes her head slowly at her partner.� �Cheat.�

�You know me, Fran,� Balthier murmurs.� �Raise you three, Captain.�

�Call.� Basch pushes more pebbles over.

�Losing your nerve? A pity, and we were just having
fun.� Raise two.�

Basch hesitates.�
Balthier may indeed have a king pair, but then, he has to admit the
pirate is at his best, like this, cocksure and mischievous and playful, the
gleam in his eyes daring Basch to follow.�
�Call.�

The next card turns a seven.� Basch keeps his expression wooden, as he raises.� Balthier smirks.� �Being a little obvious there, perhaps?�

�Or I might want you to think so,� Basch counters.

�Oh aye.�� You have
proven yourself quite the competent liar.� Balthier follows.�

It comes down to checks: Balthier does indeed have a king
pair, but Basch wins the pot.� The sky
pirate makes a face as he watches half his pebbles go to Basch�s side.� �And I thought your luck poor.�

�How so?� Basch deals.

�Two years in a dungeon?� Balthier, thankfully, doesn�t
raise.� Basch amuses himself briefly
with a memory: Vossler had once said of people who raised before seeing the
flop should be �stabbed in the arse with a blunt fork�.� He has long made his peace with the dead,
and thinking this brings nary a pang.�
�Captain?�

�Sorry, I was reminded.� Basch repeats Vossler�s
sentiment.� Balthier chuckles.

�Fran hates it as well.�
But �tis how the big players go, Captain.�

Basch leads now, with small raises: he has the highest pair
from the flop, two Queens, and sees no other possible combinations.� Balthier folds when Fran, unexpected for her
conservative style, goes all-in at the fifth.�
Basch frowns.� He has the
Queen-King.�

�Courage, Captain,� Balthier smirks, glancing avidly between
his partner and the older man.� �Surely
they teach you that in knight-school.�

�And perhaps they taught you in Archades that foolishness
does not share the same definition as courage,� Basch retorts.

�He claws back when in a corner.� Cute.�

Basch follows, with some reservations.� He has more �chips� than Fran, and even if
she were to win, he would not be quite out of this game, yet.� When they show cards, Balthier laughs.� Fran has pocket aces, and she delicately
stacks over the chips, as Basch groans.

�Another hand?� Balthier glances at their stacks.� �For drinks.�

�Side bets already?� Basch hands the cards to Fran to
deal.� �I can think of better.�

�Oh?� Balthier delicately glances at his cards when dealt,
then rocks back onto his palms comfortably.�

�Win this hand and I�ll tell you.�

Balthier bares his teeth into a grin that promises a
trouncing, no matter what cards luck may deal him.� �Cocksure when losing.� I like
that.�

7 Violet
The difficult roads

�I am not sure why I am helping you break into my
evidence vault,� Basch complained, his arms folded before him, leaning against
the cold granite of the underground vault in the Justice Department of
Archades.� At least he was dressed
somewhat for stealth, in the off-duty brocade jacket uniform of a
Judge-Magister, less conspicuous and noisy than his brother�s full plate.

�Oh hush,� Balthier worked on the swiveling lock of the
large door-safe with unnerving expertise, his head cocked to the faint
clickings of the device, one hand probing the dual keyhole with a
picklock.� �T�was your fault entirely
for running into us and insisting on following us about.�

Fran shot him a sympathetic look behind her partner�s back,
but kept silent.� Basch sighed.� �I do know the combination, by the way.� And have the key.�

�Less fun when �tis that easy,� Balthier retorted.� The lock gives a familiar dull click, even
as his wrist flicks the dual lock open.�
�Ah, there we go.�

The vault was really a musty storeroom filled with
wall-length shelves of glass drawers, mostly stained and murky.� Balthier looked somewhat disappointed, as he
frowned at the rows of numbered exhibits, confiscated and forgotten over the
ages.� �Bloody hell.� This place is huge.�

�There is a catalogue by the wall,� Basch said
helpfully.�

�I saw that,� Balthier stalked over to the terminal in
question and switched on the power.�
Several minutes later, he pursed his lips.� �Password protected.�

�The password is��

�Quiet.� You are observing.�

Fifteen minutes later, Balthier cracked the password with a
triumphant smirk, and looked back to see his companions discussing the price of
fresh fruit on Purveemas.� He rolled his
eyes at them and wove his way through the shelves, returning shortly after with
a scroll as long as his arm, wrapped in violet-tinted cloth.�

He places it on the nearest table and unwraps it gently,
then lets out a startled oath as the parchment within it promptly falls into
pieces from exposure to the air, yellowed and cracked with age.� �Had�rak.�

�I do not think this would qualify,� Fran�s expression did
not change, but Basch received the distinct impression of amusement.

So did Balthier.� His
eyes narrowed at her.� �Proceeding to
the next step did not need the map to be whole.�

�Can either of you please give me the benefit of an
explanation now?� Basch inquired as patiently as he could.

�Ah.� Well.� With the death of Reddas, the Cartel decided
there had to be a replacement for the title of Pirate King of Balfonheim, and
decided to hold a competition that would prove the winner most suited for it.�

�Therefore involving thievery and suicidal tendencies?�
Basch asked dryly.

�Therefore involving cunning
and courage,� Balthier corrected primly.� �There was a range of tasks one could do.� Completion of any nets the prize.�

��Tis strange how I have failed to
notice any other pirates attempt to break into the Justice Department.�

�Perhaps because no other of them
have� connections.� Balthier purred the last word with a suggestive little
smirk.� Basch groaned.

�What are you going to do now?�

�Start on another task, I
suppose.� Balthier glanced at Fran as he said this, but the Viera
shrugged.� �We bid you farewell.�

�There is, of course,� Basch said
mildly, �A scan-copy in the Library Archives.�

Balthier paused mid-stride to the
exit, and turned around.� �I knew
that.� But the spirit of the
matter suggested that we try to get the original.�

�The next step merely requires us
to use the map to reach an area,� Fran pointed out.

Balthier muttered another choice
oath, then, �Fine.�

�As much as I do not condone
aspirations towards greater thievery.�

�Basch,� the sky pirate chuckled,
�I have no intention of becoming pirate king.�

He blinked.� �Then?�

�The fun is in winning, and
then refusing the prize.� T�would only
be memorable then.�

�Your egotism overwhelms me.�

�Sarcasm duly noted.� Now, the library, sir.�

�Impoliteness duly noted.� Basch
refused to move.� �Balthier, there are,
really, more discreet methods of visiting your� friends, than concocting wild
tales of pirate cartels and secret maps.�

Balthier exchanged a glance with
Fran, then smiled lazily.� �And where
did you catch me out?�

�By knowing that there are no such
cartels to the extensive knowledge of the Department,� Basch said dryly.� �And besides, the item you picked out is
really a Last Will and Testament where the criminal in question left half of
his property, I believe, to a dog.�

�And how would you know that?�

�I read the page of the catalogue
you left the book open at whilst you were off searching for imaginary maps.�
Basch gestured at the closed tome.� �Try
apologizing for the terrible start and the year�s absence without notification,
and then we can all go for drinks.�

�When did you get this assertive?�
Balthier asked, amused.� �The job? The
armor?�

�Perhaps I just dislike absolutely
random beginnings,� Basch ventured.�
Fran stared at him thoughtfully, then at Balthier, then lowered her gaze
to the remains of Exhibit 1381A with a wry smile.� She turned to go, brushing past Balthier with a word in his ear
that made his eyes narrow slightly.

When they could no longer hear the
sharp clicks of her heels against the polished marble ground, Balthier�s smile
faded.� �Fran said I should apologize.�

�But?�

�Well,� Balthier tugged absently
at his sleeves, a sure sign of indecision.�
�It has been a year.� I wanted to
see you again without things getting� complicated.� To see if I felt any different.�

�Ah.� Basch walked close, and
tentatively pulled Balthier up against him, relaxing a little when the sky
pirate folded arms over the small of his back.�
�And so?�

�I am not too sure.� Balthier
smiled, quick and playful.� �But the
best beginnings start with questions, and I am always amenable to persuasion.�

-fin-
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Kaleidoscope