FicWad

In the Calm Lands

They stop for the night at the edge of the Calm Lands. After all the weird shit Jecht has seen on this pilgrimage, he thinks the Calm Lands might actually be the worst -- a place so devastated that even centuries later, people still haven't resettled it. That's probably partly a religious thing, he supposes, but it's still creepy.

It's more subtle than the Sinspawn they've been fighting all the way from Besaid, and that might be why it bothers him. It's something wrong that comes from inside the people, not from outside in the wilderness.

Braska's looking off into the distance again, which he does all too much lately. No, Jecht realizes, not looking off into space, looking off into the sunset, as if he's wondering how many more of them he'll get to see. Jecht kicks at the dirt. He's gotten to like these guys. It shouldn't end like this.

Hell, he even likes Auron, who's totally insufferable half the time. All that serious crap, as if he thinks that focusing all his attention on his sword will keep him from having to notice that he's in love with the man he's leading to die.

Love is probably too strong a word for what Jecht feels; it's not as if he cares about his companions as much as his wife and son. But he's fond of them. He's sick of these quiet, brooding nights where they just sit here, and don't talk to each other, and feel like shit. They could be taking care of each other.

"Braska," he says, and his voice comes out softer, more tender than he means it to. Braska looks up, and from the expression in his blue eyes, it's easy to believe he's carrying all of Spira's pain to Zanarkand with him. It hurts just to see it.

So before he has a chance to think too much, and remember why this isn't the best idea he's ever had, Jecht leans over and kisses him. Braska's eyelids flutter in surprise, but his lips are soft and yielding and he makes a tiny pleading sound in his throat. Jecht reaches up to slide a hand into his dark hair.

The next thing he knows, he's hitting the ground, a solid weight on top of him, and Auron's fist connects with his jaw. He sees stars -- the bastard has one hell of a punch -- and he's struggling to get some leverage, trying to get his hands around Auron's throat. Auron and Braska are both yelling, but Jecht can't make out any of the words. He knows he's going to get hit again, any second, and it's going to be bad news --

And Braska is dragging Auron off him, putting his body between theirs, holding tight to Auron to keep him still. "Don't," he's saying, his voice soft but commanding, "please don't fight each other. Not for this."

Jecht sits up, feeling his jaw carefully, probing for loose teeth. None, he thinks, which is a relief. Braska hasn't let go of Auron, still murmuring in his ear, stroking his hair, and Jecht is reminded suddenly of the focus that Braska gets when he's Summoned an Aeon, all the strength of his will soothing some wild elemental force. Auron's hands come up to rest on Braska's back, and then he kisses Braska with all the desperate passion of a man who knows his time is short.

Jecht looks away. At least he managed to accomplish something. Those two have needed to work that out for as long as he's been traveling with them. They need it more than he does.

"Jecht." He looks up; Braska's lips are swollen and flushed from the kiss. "Please...?" He reaches out one pale hand.

Time stretches out. Jecht glances over at Auron as he reaches for Braska's hand. They've fought side-by-side for long enough that they can read each other pretty well, and right now Auron's eyes say, Don't hurt him. I'll kill you if you hurt him. Jecht nods, and moves in closer to lean against Braska's other side. Braska's arm slides around him, holding him close, and when Jecht reciprocates his hand brushes Auron's arm.

"You all right?" Auron asks gruffly.

"I've had worse," Jecht smiles, and then to show there are no hard feelings he leans in across Braska and presses his lips to Auron's.

Auron stiffens, and then Braska's breath catches and his hand clutches at Jecht's back, and then Auron's mouth opens, his tongue pushing past Jecht's lips. Braska's breathing gets faster, as Jecht tastes smoke and steel in Auron's mouth, teeth and tongues clashing. So this is what Auron's been hiding under that perfect warrior-monk façade. It almost makes Jecht feel drunk, reeling with the intensity, the hunger.

He's not the only one. Braska makes a noise, a kind of strangled moan, clinging to both of his Guardians. Jecht and Auron break the kiss, looking over at him. Braska looks desperate, and he opens his mouth but no words come out, as if he's been struck dumb by his own desire.

Jecht glances over at Auron, and they lunge simultaneously. Braska finds his voice as Jecht's teeth sink into the hollow of his throat, tearing free a cry of animal pleasure. Jecht reaches for Braska's robes with his free hand, burrowing under the elaborate layers, looking for the smooth skin beneath. He can feel Auron doing the same from Braska's other side; their hands brush as they work the fastenings open to expose Braska's chest.

"Please," Braska whispers, and "Yes," arching up into their touch, shrugging his robes off his sleek shoulders. Jecht can't resist that invitation, licking at Braska's collarbone, sucking vivid purple-red bruises into existence along Braska's throat and shoulder.

Auron makes a growling sound, and Jecht can see his hand sliding down Braska's bare stomach and into the folds of his robes. Braska bucks his hips, and Auron growls again, and suddenly Jecht is so hard it hurts. He hooks a leg around one of Braska's and tugs it back toward him, grinding his cock against Braska's thigh.

"Oh, please," Braska says shakily, writhing in his Guardians' grasp. "I want you." The hand on Jecht's back tugs at his harness. "Want to feel you."

"Anything," Auron says, his voice husky, before Jecht has a chance to reply. He sits up and starts to pull his coat off, so Jecht does the same. Braska looks so inviting, lying between them, panting and dissheveled. Jecht gets undressed first, and turns his attention back to Braska, opening the Summoner's robes the rest of the way to expose long legs, slim hips, and a beautifully-formed, slender cock.

And Auron, stripping out of the last of his clothes, is almost equally tempting. Broad shoulders, muscular chest and arms, warrior's scars across his tanned skin. He catches Jecht looking and his expression smolders with hunger and challenge.

Jecht keeps his eyes locked with Auron's as he runs his hand down Braska's stomach, over the arch of his hipbone and inward, cupping his balls and the base of his cock. Braska shivers, and Auron licks his lips.

Then it's Jecht's turn to shiver, when Braska reaches out to both of them and feels his way up, blindly searching, so that Jecht feels Braska's fingers brush his cock just as he sees Auron jerk forward into the same touch. He holds his breath, watching Auron run his hand up the inside of Braska's thigh, encouraging his legs to part.

"Get up," Auron says hoarsely. "On your hands and knees." The words are for Braska, but he's looking at Jecht as if waiting for him to attack. Jecht lets out his breath in a low hiss when Braska's hand leaves his cock, but he's not about to stop this for anything.

Braska rolls over, rising gracefully to his hands and knees, his long hair spilling down to hide the delicate blush to his cheeks. He writhes, muscles sliding under his fair skin, when Auron runs a hand down his back and then, slowly, into the crack of his ass.

Jecht reaches for his discarded belt. "Here," he says, tossing Auron a vial of the potion they use for healing combat injuries. Auron almost smiles as he catches it, nodding his thanks. The stuff is shiny-wet on his fingers, and he reaches for Braska again.

When Auron starts to open him up, Braska moans breathily, and he looks up at Jecht, his eyes pleading. Jecht leans down, takes Braska's face in both hands, and kisses him again. He swallows Braska's moans, realizing that he can tell what Auron's doing by the way Braska melts into his mouth, by the slow shivers and little hungry twitches of his body. It's almost unbearably hot, making him kiss harder, invading Braska's mouth, and the eager reception he gets drives him even crazier. He thought he could wait, could follow Auron and take his time, but he wants it too much and Braska's mouth is too sweet.

He pulls up from the kiss, and sees Auron stroking his own cock, slicking it wet. His gaze flickers back down to Braska's face, because more than anything he wants to see the reaction when Auron slides it home.

Braska does not disappoint him. Auron pushes forward, slow but relentless, and Braska's mouth and eyes widen as if something is shattering inside him. He makes a low animal keening sound, all blind helpless need, and Jecht's cock throbs.

He reaches out and rests a hand on the back of Braska's neck, pulling him gently down, bringing that lovely mouth to his cock. He tries to restrain himself. He tells himself that if Braska resists, he'll stop, but he thinks that might not actually be true. The idea of tangling his fingers in that long silky hair and using Braska's mouth makes his cock pulse, bobbing up against Braska's lips.

But it looks like Braska wants to be used as much as Jecht wants to use him, because he lowers himself down from his hands to his elbows so he can reach, so he can part his soft lips and take the head of Jecht's cock between them. And Jecht can't quite stifle the groan of pleasure as Braska slides down on him, satin lips and yielding tongue. It's so good, slippery and hot, the first time he's had anyone since this whole crazy adventure started, and right now it is everything he wants.

Except not hard enough. He wants this, but more so. He slides a hand into Braska's hair, his fingers slowly tightening. Braska's hand clutches at his leg, but Jecht isn't sure whether it's to brace himself or caution Jecht.

He looks up at Auron, who is sweat-sheened and feral, thrusting slow and hard. Jecht meets his eyes, holds Braska's head still, and matches that stroke, rocking his hips forward in time with Auron's. The head of his cock brushes the back of Braska's throat, and Braska makes a muffled choking noise.

Rage blazes in Auron's eyes and his fingers tighten on Braska's hips -- and then as they start to pull out Braska moans around Jecht's cock, and the look on Auron's face fades from fury to desire.

Jecht pauses, and smiles when Auron does the same. "Again?" he asks, his voice husky and rich, stroking Braska's face with his free hand. Braska moans an affirmative, clinging to the backs of Jecht's thighs with both hands.

"Good," Jecht growls, his eyes locked with Auron's. "We like to hear you." He pushes forward at the same slow pace as before, and Auron comes with him. Braska encourages them with more incoherent noises, muffled by Jecht's cock but so clear in their meaning.

A new note of urgency enters the sounds when Auron reaches under him with one hand. Jecht watches the movement of muscles in Auron's arm and shoulder, imagining how Auron's hand must look, wrapped around Braska's cock, stroking him off with the same deliberate care of his thrusts. Jecht's cock throbs at the thought, his balls draw up tight, the tension gathering, and he knows he won't last much longer no matter how slowly they're going.

Braska starts to rock his hips, trying to push them faster, as if his patience is gone at last. Jecht stops moving for a few seconds -- getting his control back, and a good thing, too -- to let Auron set the new, faster pace, then starts in again, matching it. He's so ready to come he can almost taste it, the energy humming in his veins.

And now Braska is drawing fast panicky breaths, his arms shaking from holding him up, making an almost continuous stream of helpless hungry noises -- and then his back arches into a perfect ivory bow and he shudders like he's tearing apart, and his throat opens around Jecht's cock and he comes like a howling storm.

Jecht grits his teeth and tries to hang on through it, but he just can't hold back, not when he can bury his cock balls-deep in Braska's throat like this. He feels his muscles tensing, feels himself passing the point of no return -- and he struggles to keep his eyes open, to watch Auron watching him, to see his own hunger reflected there. Then the storm overtakes him, too, lightning tearing down his spine as he floods Braska's mouth with his come.

He slumps back, catching his breath. Braska's lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright. He starts to speak almost as soon as his mouth is free: "Please," he gasps, "please, yes. I want -- I've always -- always wanted you --"

Jecht glances up at Auron, but the naked emotion on his face is too much, and it's safer to look at Braska, beautiful in the depths of his abandon -- throwing his head back and crying out as another series of shudders wracks him. Auron makes a single sound, a low broken cry as his control finally splinters. He collapses onto Braska's back, taking deep heaving breaths that sound almost like sobs.

At first Jecht keeps his distance. He and Braska both have families, have other people to love, but Auron has nobody else. If he needs a little time with Braska now, Jecht won't begrudge him that.

But when the two of them finally move, it's Auron who reaches out to pull Jecht toward them. They settle in together, Guardians cradling the Summoner between them, Auron's hand on Jecht's arm.

"I wish we didn't have to do this," Jecht says at last. "I wish there were some other way."

Auron's grip tightens. "Yeah," he says, his voice almost steady, "So do I."

Braska doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. The bright wet shine of tears in his eyes is enough.