FicWad

Tongues of Flame

The air in the hut is warm and golden, fragrant with the cinnamon and saffron and cayenne that are the lifeblood of Karayan cooking. The scent is almost as welcoming as the smile of the man who invited him in here, out of the baking sun of the Grassland afternoon.

"It's been a long while," the man says, and his ice-blue eyes have the same sparkle Geddoe remembers from years ago.

"It certainly has -- Wyatt." He can't help using the name, even though he knows it's not what the man goes by anymore. It's the only thing that feels right on his tongue.

Wyatt smiles again as they sit down on the low couches. "And hearing that name makes me feel every year of it." He grows serious after a moment. "I'd offer you lassi, but somehow I doubt this is a social call."

"No. I wish it were." Geddoe studies Wyatt for a minute: sun-browned and strong, looking for all the world like he belongs in this village, in this tribe. Geddoe tells himself that it's foolish to envy Wyatt for something he wouldn't know what to do with if he had it, but that doesn't make it much easier. "No," he repeats. "I'm following a rumor that he's come back."

"What, again?" Wyatt asks, though the lightness in his tone is forced. They both knew this time would come eventually.

"It's different this time," Geddoe says, because some things have to be said even when everyone already knows they're true.

Wyatt nods. "The skirmishes between Grassland and Zexen are getting worse, and now with the rumors that Harmonia's on the move...."

Geddoe rubs at the back of his right hand absently, thinking about years long gone. "It's all just rumor, then. You haven't heard from him." They aren't really questions. If Wyatt had heard from the Flame Champion, he'd say so; the battles they fought together still mean at least that much to both of them.

"I haven't," Wyatt confirms. He looks as tired as Geddoe feels. "I wish I could believe I won't."

"You have a family here," Geddoe says. The envy is irrational, he reminds himself.

Wyatt shrugs. "Yes. That's the difference between us, isn't it? I settle in one place because that's where the people I care about are. You can't settle down, so you take them with you."

Geddoe smiles, surprised. He'd never have put it that way himself, but it makes sense once Wyatt says it. "I guess I do," he says.

"That woman in your team," Wyatt continues, and his voice is softer, more careful. "Are you...?"

"No." Geddoe shakes his head, and he touches the back of his hand again. "She doesn't know. None of them do. You? Do you have a woman here?" He suspects he knows the answer to both that question and the one Wyatt will ask him in return.

"No," Wyatt says, just as he expected. "I have family here, but no lovers. It's too much to ask someone to take on." He's making the same nervous gesture Geddoe does, stroking the spot where he bears the Rune. "Do you have time...?"

Geddoe smiles at his confidence. Not /Do you want to/, but /Do you have time/. "Not much," he says, but he's already taking his gloves off. "But I can spare a little while for an old friend."

Wyatt slides across the pillows toward him. "Good. The day I can't make time for you, someone else will be wearing this Rune." Geddoe has a brief moment to be surprised by the bold statement before Wyatt's lips meet his, and then he's tasting warm cinnamon as Wyatt's hands go to work on his sword-belt.

The kiss is so familiar, so comforting, that it's almost like coming home. He's had very few lovers in the years since the Fire Bringer parted ways, and fewer still that he stayed with long enough to feel right with them. But his body remembers Wyatt, and Geddoe knows he would have said yes to this even if he didn't have the time.

"Your lips are still so soft," Wyatt says, sounding pleasantly surprised, when he pulls back to help Geddoe out of his mail.

"My body thinks it's still twenty-five," Geddoe points out. "Now you -- you feel a little slimmer than you used to be. Not quite such a warhorse." He unfastens Wyatt's tunic, paying no attention to the man's protests. "I didn't say that was a bad thing," he continues, stroking the cleanly-defined muscles of Wyatt's chest. His hands already know where to find most of the scars -- it feels like Wyatt's life must have calmed down once he settled here.

"Don't stop," Wyatt says very softly, barely breathing the words. He seems frozen himself as Geddoe pushes his tunic back off his shoulders, but he comes alive again when Geddoe leans in to lick the sweat from his collarbone, arching into the touch, his breathing harsh.

"You taste like a Grasslander," Geddoe murmurs into the hollow of his throat, "all sunshine and spices."

Wyatt laughs, a low sound that turns into a growl as he buries his face in Geddoe's neck, sucking at the tender spot under his jaw. "You still taste like a soldier," he determines after a moment. "Like leather and steel."

The words make Geddoe hungry -- or maybe that's Wyatt's hot breath on his skin, like the warmth of a fire. "I don't have much time, Wyatt," he says, "and I want you."

"You never did mince words," Wyatt says, and he shifts to kneel between Geddoe's legs, reaching down to unbuckle Geddoe's boots. "Time enough to do it right?"

"Always." The power of the Rune crackles in his blood, lending weight to the promise. He leans back, pulling his tabard and shirt over his head as Wyatt tugs off the first of his boots. There's a luxury to letting someone else undress him, he thinks, tilting his head so he can watch Wyatt pull the other one free.

There's a ridiculously safisfied look on Wyatt's face as he runs his hands up the insides of Geddoe's legs, encouraging them to part further. "Someday," he says, "you need to tell me the stories that go with some of those new scars."

Geddoe smiles. "Most of them aren't really all that entertaining," he warns. Wyatt unfastens the lacing of his trousers, and Geddoe braces his weight on his hands, rocking his hips up to push his cock into Wyatt's hands.

"What a -- mm -- pity," Wyatt purrs, licking his way down Geddoe's chest, over his stomach, tracing some of those scars, his tongue warm and wet.

Even though Geddoe knows what comes next, he's still not prepared to feel Wyatt's mouth close around the head of his cock, all welcoming slippery heat. He can't help the moan that escapes him, despite the worry that his team could be waiting outside. He's almost ready to come right there, his hips moving without conscious thought, but Wyatt's strong hands hold him down, keep him still for a teasing stroke that's too light, too slow to finish him off.

"Are you in that much of a hurry?" Wyatt asks, looking up with a grin when Geddoe makes an impatient noise.

Geddoe makes an effort to slow his breathing and get his responses back under control. "No," he says, "I'm not." He leans back on his elbows and hooks his thumbs in the loosened waistband of his trousers. "Let's do this right."

"Let's," Wyatt breathes, and when Geddoe lifts his hips to push his trousers down, Wyatt pulls them the rest of the way off. "Spirits," he says -- and that's odd to Geddoe's ears, because Wyatt always used to say "Goddess" when he swore -- "I've missed this."

"Me too," Geddoe says. "Your turn." And he watches as Wyatt stands and strips out of the rest of his clothes. His every movement suggests power, like it always has, but it's tempered with more grace than Geddoe remembers -- the Grasslands' influence, he supposes, learning to fight with the Karayan long knife instead of a knight's sword.

He sits up, wrapping a hand around the back of one of Wyatt's muscular thighs to drag him close enough to taste. Wyatt swallows a growl as Geddoe licks at the underside of his cock, and threads one hand carefully into Geddoe's hair, not quite pulling. He tastes wonderful, rich dark musk flavored with the earthy burn of cayenne.

Geddoe doesn't even want to resist the temptation -- he buries his face in the thatch of blond curls and sucks one of Wyatt's balls into his mouth, savoring it. Wyatt's fingers clench in his hair and he shudders, the muscles of his thighs going taut under Geddoe's steadying hands.

"Fuck," he gasps, at the ever-so-delicate scrape of Geddoe's teeth. "If you want more than this -- we need to do it soon."

Geddoe pulls back, licking his lips, smiling at the look on Wyatt's face when he does it. "Then come back down here." He lets himself fall back among the cushions, legs spread in blatant invitation.

"It's really good to see you," Wyatt says as he drops to his knees between Geddoe's.

"The feeling's mutual." Geddoe reaches for Wyatt's cock, stroking it slowly. "What's it going to take to convince you to fuck me?"

Wyatt grins. "I think I'm pretty convinced. Lie back." He opens a jar of oil, and pours some out on his fingers. When he reaches between Geddoe's legs with one warm, strong hand, it takes effort for Geddoe not to close his good eye and just /feel/, but he wants to savor this experience as fully as possible, and that means watching.

And Wyatt is so much more careful than he looks, sliding one finger slowly in with a gentleness that belies his strength. Geddoe breathes out slowly, concentrating on relaxing muscles long unused to this particular strain.

"Stop me if it's too much," Wyatt says.

Geddoe nods. "Don't stop." It's not completely comfortable, but he wants this enough that it doesn't really matter. He's spent years training his body to respond to what he needs, and right now what he needs is Wyatt's cock. He pushes back, feels a second finger slide in beside the first -- and Wyatt's breathing is almost as ragged as his own. Geddoe reaches for his own cock, stroking it slowly and deliberately.

Wyatt's glances down at his cock, then looks him in the eye again. "Fuck, tell me when you're ready." He twists his fingers just right, and Geddoe writhes on them.

"Do that again," Geddoe pants, and he throws his head back, lightning crackling in his veins, when Wyatt does. "Now," he says. "I'm ready now."

"Good." Wyatt withdraws his fingers, and Geddoe watches hungrily as he oils his cock. "Here." He leans forward, resting his weight on one hand while he guides his cock into position with the other.

Geddoe moans, pushing up with his hips as Wyatt thrusts forward, and Wyatt's cock slides into him just like coming home. He wraps his legs around the small of Wyatt's back as Wyatt settles in above him and starts to thrust, slow and smooth.

Wyatt's jaw is temptingly close to Geddoe's mouth, sun-gold skin with white-blond stubble, and Geddoe realizes that he must have deliberately chosen to lean toward Geddoe's left side, toward his good eye. The thought sparks a warmth that's entirely different from the heat of the sex.

He licks along the line of Wyatt's jaw and bites carefully at his earlobe, tugging at the charm that dangles from it. Wyatt groans, and thrusts harder, his arms tightening around Geddoe's shoulders. Geddoe purrs back at him, sucking at the pierced lobe, savoring the way it makes Wyatt's whole body flex and slide against him.

"This is new," he murmurs. "I like it."

"Mmm," Wyatt agrees. "So do I. Didn't know it would feel -- like that."

"As good as this?" Geddoe flexes his legs, pulling Wyatt in deeper, his hand moving faster on his own cock beceause right now he wouldn't believe anything feels better than this --

And Wyatt laughs shakily. "Goddess, no. Nothing feels better than this." He does it again to illustrate, driving deep and making Geddoe writhe.

"Keep doing that," Geddoe says shakily. "Keep -- fucking -- doing that."

"Doing -- this?" Wyatt asks, his voice rough with pleasure.

"Yes -- fuck, yes." Lightning shivers up Geddoe's spine with every thrust, and he can barely keep up the rhythm of his hand -- but he barely needs it, either, the slide and pressure of getting fucked so right, so good -- and he thinks he's still making noise, thinks some of those moans and gasping breaths must be his own -- and then he hears what Wyatt's saying:

"Now -- come now come now --" and the need in Wyatt's voice puts him over, makes him shudder and flex and come hard, blue-white lightning crackling through his mind, sharp enough that he can taste the ozone -- and he would almost swear that he can feel the tidal wave of Wyatt's orgasm washing through /him/, too.

And maybe that's not so far from the truth, because the hut smells like a thunderstorm when Geddoe finally comes to his senses enough to notice. Wyatt is grinning down at him, his eyes a bright clear-sky blue.

"Move it," Geddoe says affectionately. "You're heavy."

"What," Wyatt smirks as he shifts his weight back, onto his knees and off Geddoe, "not even a thank you?"

"You got as good as you gave, didn't you?" Wyatt's amusement is contagious, and Geddoe finds himself grinning back. He can feel all the places where he'll be sore tomorrow, and he has to admit he's almost looking forward to it.

"I did," Wyatt admits, and he leans in for a slow, wet, languid kiss. He's still smiling afterward, when they both reach for their discarded clothes. "Don't suppose you could stay for a while?" he asks casually.

Geddoe shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't. Don't suppose you could come with me?"

"No," Wyatt says. He shrugs. "It had to be said, I guess."

"I know." Geddoe finishes with his trousers and grabs for the first of his boots out of habit -- it's easier to fight bare-chested than barefoot, and that makes boots a priority.

It turns out to be a good thing, too, because there's some kind of commotion outside now, the sound of running feet and panicked shouting, and then a clash of steel on steel. "Damn," Wyatt says, tugging his tunic over his head and reaching for his knife. "Trouble still follows close on your heels, doesn't it?"

"Believe me, I wish it were otherwise." He's still putting himself back together, and Wyatt is already rising to leave.

"Geddoe --"

"Go, Wyatt. Look after your people. I'll see you again before this whole mess is over, I'm sure."

Wyatt smiles, a little sadly. "I hope so. Good luck on your mission."

"And luck to you, old friend," Geddoe says as Wyatt leaves. He sighs, shrugging back into his armor. He knew this respite would be brief, knew that war would find them soon. He shouldn't be surprised.

Geddoe stands, buckling his sword-belt. Right now, his responsibility is to track down his squad and make sure they get out of this mess in one piece. But he'll see Wyatt again. He's certain of it.