day seven >> pawn
#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #prompt #shadowbringers #stelmaria #exarch #fray #wolexarch #nsfw #warnings
warnings: dubious consent ; blood drinking ; fucking under duress ; body horror
general: fray!stel returns and they’re mad bro, but if they can just get some exarch dick they’ll be ok ; tomra redux ; monsterfuckers ahoy!
noun
- a person used by others for their own purposes
- a chess piece of the smallest size and value
- a pawn moves one square forward along its file if unobstructed (or two on the first move), or one square diagonally forward when making a capture
- each player begins with eight pawns on the second rank, and can promote a pawn to become any other piece (typically a queen) if it reaches the opponent's end of the board
verb
- deposit (an object) with a pawnbroker as security for money lent
- also: an object left as security for money lent (noun)
They’d drunk too much. That was the first mistake.
Then, the dwarves neglecting to mention the sleeping arrangements until the last moment, specifically how the arrangement—singular—for two non-dwarves requires sharing.
The Exarch did not mind this so much. Stelmaria could be a light sleeper and prone to nightmares, but thankfully after a few drinks she could remain unconscious through a calamity. He’d felt confident she would close her eyes and stay that way until the morning.
Therein lay the second mistake.
Sure enough, she stretched full length on the narrow bed and immediately sank into dreams. Amused, he slipped off his leather sandals and curled up beside her, robes and cowl left in place, close enough to feel her warmth seeping into his crystal limbs but no closer.
A shining bubble in his chest bursts. Unnoticed, a low rumbling purr begins within his chest. Such an unexpected blessing and pleasure, this time spent with just the two of them, similar yet different to the adventures of their shared past. While both have changed, their connection remains strong—for which he is grateful.
Truly, Azeyma smiles upon him in these final days of his path and life.
And thus the seed of the third mistake was planted.
He swallows thickly, her claws pricking the skin of his throat as his flesh moves beneath her grip. “I—”
The cowl has dropped and he is defenseless before her.
“We tire of your pitiful subterfuge, G’raha Tia,” she growls, the harsh sound escaping past a long, thin tongue and a grotesque amount of fangs set within a monstrous gaping maw.
“How—?”
She swirls her hips and he gasps, the soft heat on his stiffening cock almost painful. “The smell. We knew you from the beginning the same way you knew us.”
The sharp claws drag down his chest, catching painfully on every facet and seam of his azure crystal, stopping in random spots to sink deep and draw forth a rivulet of crimson.
“What do you want?” He breathes fast, reeling and lightheaded at the stink of hot metal mixed with something familiar wafting from her skin—death without rot, a chemical mixture gone wrong, ageless flesh rendered hard as marble.
She reeks of Light, as sin eaters do.
Her tongue slides across the upwelling blood and he shudders violently, though not in disgust. Even like this, slipping toward the death and madness he believed he’d tricked her into he would fuck them both into oblivion without hesitation if she asked it.
His hips grind up into her as he fights to keep a whine of need trapped within his throat. The claws dip further, beneath his robes, beneath the smalls, and claim the length of him, pulsing with heat and slickened at the tip.
“I wish to help in your endeavor. But I will require your honesty and some form of compensation. You must understand, my lord, that she is not and will never be your pawn, nor shall I. We are the queen, and this game cannot be won if we are sacrificed.”
Her free hand undoes the complicated buttons on her dress, the fabric parting to reveal what seems like malms of bare skin to his hungry gaze, then settles where her naked heat presses against his hardness, stroking both at once. Slowly, oh so slowly.
He believes he may go mad, “Tell me who you are first.”
“I see why she likes you,” the creature whispers, rubbing her core against him in such a way that he might slip within that blissful heat, but he does not and each near miss causes a shower of sparks in his brain. “You may call me Fray. I exist to protect her, and though we are in some ways one and the same, she does not know I am here. That it how it must remain.”
“Fray—” he groans, unable to say more.
“I require a gift of your aether if you wish to keep her from turning at this very moment, and there is quite a simple way to acquire what we need, should you agree…”
As if to punctuate the statement, lumps appear on her shoulders and the skin there tears and bleeds. Wings. She grunts in pain and pleasure both, his hips moving against his will.
“Yes,” is all he manages to force from his lips before she places her mouth over his and the head of his cock finds its mark within her.
The harsh slap of skin on skin begins in earnest—the pact between conspirators sealed.