Star Ocean: Till The End Of Time Fan Fiction ❯ Yaoi Ocean 3 ❯ Chapter Seven: Attraction ( Chapter 7 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Seven

Attraction

The only one who commented on Albel's “miracle heal” was Maria. “So, Cliff, you must have taken him to the Eagle, right?” she said.

“Yeah… He looked pretty bad last night,” Cliff admitted. “So I figured if we let him get better on his own, it'd take days.”

“Hmph,” Albel snorted. He walked past them, on his way out of the inn.

“Where are you going?” Fayt wondered right before he opened the door to leave.

Albel glanced back at him. “I'm servicing my gauntlet.” He raised his metal claw briefly to clear his point. He flexed the claws. They made a high-pitched creaking sound. He scowled at it and went on his way.

Nel frowned. “One of us should go with him—make sure he's not up to something,” she said, obviously intending it to be someone else. She glanced at a certain young male, implying that she thought he should go.

Fayt nodded. “I'll go,” he volunteered, taking the hint. He followed him out. Cliff looked away, out the window in fact, watching Albel march by followed by Fayt. He had wanted to go—maybe do something in an alleyway… Ah, well. He'd have another opportunity some time; of that, he was certain.

Fayt caught up to Albel and walked beside him. He didn't even look at the boy. “So, they sent you to keep an eye on me.” It wasn't a question.

The blue-haired youth almost hesitated in replying. “Yeah. Nel thinks you're up to something,” he admitted.

Albel ground his teeth. “Aquarian scum,” he hissed at her name.

Fayt sighed deeply and changed the subject before Albel's temper rose any higher. “So what does `servicing your gauntlet' entail?”

“Oiling the joints, buffing out a few scratches, and filing it,” he said listlessly. Fayt assumed that the dungeon hadn't been particularly good for the metal any more than it had been good for his body. Albel strode in to the workshop. The smithy there seemed to know him and had done this before. Albel tilted his arm and unhooked, unstrapped, and unbuckled the gauntlet. He slid it off and set it down. The glove he wore under it slid off with it and the owner of the glove left it off. Fayt curiously peered at his arm. His face turned a lovely shade of green that wasn't lost on Albel.

Fayt turned around on his heel, staggered out of the shop, rounded a corner, and lost the contents of his stomach in the alleyway. He spit a few times and got a glass of juice from a store to wash the taste out before he came back.

It wasn't so much that the flesh was horribly mangled. It was that it was burnt, twisted, scarred, melted, and warped—and alive. If he had found something that looked like that out lying about somewhere and it was clearly dead, he wouldn't have reacted that way. The idea that something could be that destroyed and still be functional made him sick to his stomach. No wonder Albel kept the gauntlet on.

When Fayt wandered back in, Albel was sitting down, watching the smith work on the gauntlet in a bored kind of way. Fayt watched the smith, but his gaze wandered back to Albel's left arm. This time, he was a bit more prepared for it and didn't become sick, but he still wished he hadn't looked. Albel glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“If it bothers you, stop looking at it, fool,” he snapped.

“What happenedto it?” Fayt wondered incredulously, the concern impossible to miss in his voice and expression. He couldn't seem to call his arm an “arm.” No matter how he looked at it, it just didn't look like it should be there.

Albel ignored the question and looked back at the smith. Fayt opened his mouth to complain that he had ignored him, but then the other began to speak. “Dragon fire.”

Fayt suddenly really didn't want to go face the Marquis. The idea was beginning to be daunting. Say, if the Marquis was ill-tempered and decided it didn't like them… Fayt didn't care to finish that thought.

It didn't take very long; the smith was skilled and there wasn't too much that needed fixing. Afterwards, Albel experimentally moved the joints, inspecting the work. Satisfied, he paid him and they headed back toward the inn.

“How often do you have to do that?” Fayt wondered. He imagined that it would get awfully tiring.

“About once a month,” he said flatly. It actually varied a bit more than that depending on how active he was--“active” here meaning “how many fights he got in to.”

The snow swirled around in the streets, piling up on rooftops. This was like a Winter Wonderland from hell. How people could stand it was beyond Fayt. He imagined that they just got used to it—not having nerves might help, he thought dryly.

Fayt's eyes roved over Albel. Come to think of it, how does he wear that? And still live, that is, in this harsh climate? “Aren't you cold?” he wondered.

“Yes,” he said blandly.

“So why don't you wear something warmer? And less revealing?”

“Does it bother you?” he wondered, looking at him quizzically, then he smirked. “Or are you concerned about my health?”

Fayt blinked in surprise. “What? No, I just—“
He moved uncomfortably close to Fayt. “Or is it that you find it difficult to stop looking at my body?” he said, his tone turning coy.

Fayt could only stare at him for a moment, stuttering. “What…? You… I… No!”

Albel took another step closer to him. Fayt took a step back to keep the distance between them. “Or perhaps you're intimidated by my body?”

“No…”

Another step closer. The Earthling backed up again. “Do you want me too?” he asked. Fayt didn't have time to puzzle over that; Albel kept moving forward and to compensate, he had to move backward. His back thumped against the alley wall. Albel moved in to close him in. He reached his arms out, blocking him at all sides.

Fayt stared at him. He wondered how far away the inn was. If he yelled, would they hear it? The wind howled, stirring up the snow. Flakes of snow caught in their hair and eyelashes. “Albel…”

“Do you?” he breathed in a wispy voice.

Fayt shivered in the cold. The tips of his ears were going numb. “Come on. We need to get going… Besides, it's cold out here,” he pleaded.

Albel smiled, the look threaded with lust. Blue-green eyes widened. “Don't worry. I can keep you warm,” he whispered, leaning his head toward Fayt. Fayt could feel his warm breath on his neck. He wasn't really sure how he felt about this. Albel seemed to be enjoying himself though. Why, the Earthling wasn't certain.

Albel liked the look on Fayt's face—so full of apprehension, a little bit of fear, and even… Was it hope? Hope for what? He liked it though. Cliff was certainly… more attractive, but Fayt had a certain quality… something, anyway.

“Cute” wasn't actually a word in Albel's vocabulary, but if he had to use a term for Fayt, “cute” was the only one that really fit. And he certainly looked… adorable (another word that didn't belong in his vocabulary) right now—shivering in the cold, snowflakes stuck on his long eyelashes, peering up at Albel nervously. He actually looked rather seductive (a word that did belong in his vocabulary)—though he probably didn't realize it.

“Albel—“ Fayt tried again, but was abruptly cut off. He didn't move, and barely breathed. Albel's lips were pressed against his, his body pushed against him suggestively. Fayt's eyes stayed locked open. Red eyes looked in to blue ones—like a fire looking out at the sea. With Albel's body heat, it was actually much warmer. Fayt felt his lips soften and mold to Albel's, almost against his own will.

It was a shame it was so cold; they'd never be able to go any farther. No longer seeing a point in continuing, Albel turned away. He sauntered back to the inn, a confused Fayt following in his wake. Inside, the others were talking and eating. Albel picked at the food the way an anorexic would pick at a good meal, and Fayt had lost his appetite as well, despite the empty state of his stomach.

Cliff clapped Fayt on the back hard enough to make him nearly fall out of his chair. Fayt gagged. He felt cider run out of his nose. “You'd better eat up, kid. If you faint from hunger in those mountains, I'm not gonna carry ya.”

Fayt frowned, wiping at the cider, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. He took a bite anyway, resituating himself.

Cliff pointed at Albel the way a public prosecutor might point at the accused. “You too. I understand you need to keep your `girlish figure' but you need some meat on those bones too.” He should know.

Albel replied by chucking the nearest weighty object at Cliff's head. It happened to be a barstool. Cliff ducked and it sailed over him and hit the wall behind him. The inn proprietress yelled at Cliff for instigating, though not at Albel for throwing it. Nel picked up the stool and handed it to Cliff. He sighed and put it back. It was interesting how no one expected Albel to pick up after himself or behave in a proper manner.

Cliff suddenly grinned at the Glyphian swordsman, who scowled in turn. “Ya see? You throw like a girl!”

“'Like a girl,' huh?” Maria demanded.

Cliff's eyes widened a little and the grin was wiped from his face. “I didn't mean it like—“
Nel crossed her arms. “Aren't we women?”

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “I meant…”

“Let's get going, Nel,” Maria said. Nel nodded and they walked off, leaving the other three behind.

Cliff stood up. “No, listen! I…” He ran after them into the cold outside. Albel chuckled condescendingly. Fayt snorted in a disapproving manner.

“We should leave as well,” Fayt said. He headed for the door. He heard the Elicoorian get up behind him. The proprietress had her back turned, counting out money. Albel grabbed Fayt's arm and pulled him back around. Fayt's eyes were wide with surprise, and widened further when Albel kissed him again. He made a sound like a mouse squeaking when Albel's hand roved over his shirt and pinched his nipple playfully through the fabric. The Elicoorian pulled away and strolled out of the inn as if it had never happened. Fayt, bewildered, followed him.

When they caught up to the others, Cliff seemed to be doing nothing short of digging himself in deeper. The girls banished him to walking behind everyone else. This banishment was made difficult because Albel seemed to want to trail behind the others—primarily out of a desire to be alone but secondarily because it meant that he could watch Cliff's hard-muscled body and imagine the things he wanted to do to him and with him. This was a poor tactical error on everyone else's part to allow this because it meant that, should Albel decide to attack, he could stab them from behind. What they should have done was make Albel walk in front so that they could keep an eye on him.

Albel's gaze trailed to Fayt. He had a nice ass—what he could see of it anyway and the way he walked in the snow was innocently seductive. His thoughts strayed to the things he would like to do to Fayt. Fortunately, it was too cold to get an erection.

They accepted a ride to the Bequerel Mountains by the Dragon Brigade—which was a weird experience to say the least. Once an enemy, and now giving them rides. Interesting that something like a common enemy could turn two warring countries to help each other.

Once they arrived, they headed up the mountains. After much wandering around, nearly getting themselves lost, and running in to many aggressive dragons, they came across what looked like a dragon graveyard. Fayt walked in to it out of curiosity. Maria and Nel were on the lookout for air dragons. Cliff stood guard. Albel went with Fayt to investigate. As misfortunate would have it, an air dragon swooped down and grabbed Fayt and as a second thought, grabbed Albel too and flew off with them. The entire time, Albel glared at Fayt as though it were his fault.

“Don't glare at me like that—you got caught too!” Fayt snapped.

Albel frowned. “I came with you to make sure you don't get yourself killed, fool,” he retorted.

Fayt smirked. “So, you do care about me.”

His frown deepened. “If you die, I end up back in prison,” he said flatly.

“Selfish prick,” Fayt muttered, right before the dragon dropped them. “I let my guard down.” Fayt stood up. Albel looked around. There were small dragons running around everywhere. “Did it put us here as food?”

“Yes, maggot.” He fingered the hilt of his sword. “We can't stay here.” They wove their way in and out of the dragons, occasionally having to kill them to make it through. While they were alone, Fayt thought that he might as well ask about what had happened earlier today.

“Hey, Albel,” Fayt said. Albel glanced at him briefly. “About… Er… I mean, why did you…” He sighed, flustered. He had a feeling of serious déjà vu. And how had that ended up? He needed to just say it, get to the point and all that. “You kissed me. Why would you do that?”

“Just… curious,” he said, walking a little ahead of him now.

“Yeah? About what?” Fayt wondered suspiciously.

He shrugged one shoulder. “I was curious as to why Cliff seems attracted to you.”

Fayt stood frozen, his mouth moving for a moment without any sound coming out of it. Finally, he found his voice. Unfortunately, nothing intelligent became of it. “What!”
“You heard me, worm.”

“How did you…?”

He frowned. “I've seen you staring at him, and shrinking closer to him when you're in trouble or worried.” Pathetic worm. All the same, he felt a little jealous. How long had they been having sex? He saw that Fayt looked troubled and worried now. He almost grinned wickedly at that. Cliff's not here now…

“That's because… He's like my bodyguard, so I…” Fayt's voice trailed off when Albel gave him a flat look. His face suddenly turned red. Did the girls know too? If it was that obvious, then… And he had been oblivious?

Fayt followed Albel around. They had to do a bit of backtracking once or twice, but they found something that might be an exit. Fayt felt decidedly more awkward. Albel didn't seem to care all that much, but he did keep giving Fayt looks that made him feel uncomfortable—like he was scrutinizing him, similar to someone staring at a bug under glass.

They made it out of the area with the small dragons. Fayt somehow ended up in front again. Fayt caught Albel looking at his ass (he hadn't really tried to hide it either). “Stop staring at me!” Fayt yelled. Albel glanced back where the dragons were. None followed the sound. “Stop staring at me,” he repeated in a lower voice.

“Why?”

Fayt stuttered. How does one respond to that anyway? Albel wouldn't accept generic answers, like “it's rude” or such; he wouldn't care. “Well, because… Because…” Damn, what could he really say? It suddenly came to him, like a happy flash of lightning. He was almost smug with the idea. Hopefully, Albel would be too disgusted or disturbed to answer and that would be that. “What, are you attracted to me?”

“A little,” he said matter-of-factly.

Fayt blanched. I can't believe he just admitted to that, he thought. But what he really couldn't believe was what he did next. He walked over to him and kissed him again. Not only that, he grabbed his wrists and walked him backwards to the rock wall, pinning him there and kissed him again—and again. In fact, he only stopped kissing him to take a breath. Fayt didn't really know what to do. On one hand, they had a mission to do and besides, what about Cliff?

However, on the other hand, Albel was actually rather attractive… and here—and making it obvious that he wanted him. Besides that, why should he be concerned about Cliff? They weren't together or anything; they just had sex sometimes.

Fayt didn't feel any real emotional attachment to Cliff—other than friendship. The only attachment otherwise was sexual; nothing more. Surely, it wasn't a big deal if… Why was he even considering this!? He kicked Albel in the shin. In retaliation, Albel stomped on his foot irritably (but it didn't hurt too badly) and pushed himself closer to Fayt, pinning him to the wall. He used his own legs to pin Fayt's in place. He readjusted himself and pushed Fayt's left arm in to his claw, slamming his wrists against the rock face.

With his newly freed hand, he began to molest Fayt's chest, running his fingertips along the fabric, feeling the muscle and bone beneath, paying attention to the rhythm of his breathing. Fayt slowly slackened. True, they needed to get going, but they didn't even know where they were right now—or if there really was a way down from here besides flying. So why not?

Fayt kissed Albel back, at first tentative and then with gathering confidence. Heat rose. Their bodies became impatient for more contact. Albel let go of Fayt's wrist. Fayt did not resist him or try to flee with his newfound freedom. His hands roved freely over the other's body, and Albel did likewise. Fayt tugged at the cloth belt suggestively. Albel gave a guttural growl of agreement. Fayt pulled it off. With it, came almost everything from his lower half. His skirt fell around his ankles. Albel stopped and removed his sword, dropping it with the rest of his accessories.

Fayt hooked a finger underneath Albel's shirt. “How does this come off?”

“I'll do it. You get undressed,” he commanded. Fayt rolled his eyes and yanked his clothes off. He dropped them in a heap. He shivered in the sudden chill, but he wasn't cold for long. Albel came over to him and kissed him again, this time briefly before he turned Fayt around. He pushed him against the rock wall. Fayt's member scraped the rock. He grimaced. Albel's fingers coiled around him. He felt the metal claws gently graze his back. His hand began to move, to fondle him. Fayt moaned and pushed against his hand. The head again grazed the rock, and this time it wasn't quite as uncomfortable.

The Elicoorian moved his hand away. Fayt ached for the touch again, but was not long wanted. He heard Albel suck on his fingers and then moved his hand between Fayt's legs. Fayt moved his legs a little farther apart for easier access. One finger wormed its way inside him. He squirmed a little before his body got used to it and it felt good. Albel's fingers weren't as big as Cliff's. The difference was that Albel could fit more fingers in. Another finger snaked inside. Albel's metal arm wrapped around his waist, and the other continued to push in to him. He twisted his wrist, making him loose enough to slip in the third finger. Fayt groaned, leaning back in to it. He arched his back. Albel's lips grazed his neck, then nibbled along his shoulder. His fingers were prying, searching, ever-moving.

When Albel shoved a fourth finger in, Fayt yelped in surprise, then sighed and groaned. His body twisted, arcing. He ran his fingers along Albel's thighs, feeling the strong muscles there, touching his hips, groaning, twisting his hips against him. Albel decided that this was enough. He slipped his fingers out, grimacing a little at them. He positioned himself with his hand. Fayt helped by arching his back, holding still. Albel pushed in to him, sliding inside him easily. He gripped Fayt's waist and pounded in to him with a force that was comparable to the phrase “with a vengeance.”

Eventually, though, the position got to be uncomfortable, and besides, Albel wanted him a different way. He grabbed his uke and pushed him down to the ground, on all fours. Albel leaned over him, pushing back inside him. His fingers sunk into Fayt's blue hair to get a good grip, then yanked his head back. Fayt gave a cry of surprise, but it didn't hurt him. Albel kissed him as fiercely and passionately as he pounded in to him. Fayt moaned, then gasped as the air was pushed forcibly from his lungs. Albel caught his breath in his mouth and let go of him.

Fayt couldn't seem to catch his breath. He could only gasp and cry out, moaning frequently. Sweat slicked their bodies, dampening their hair. Fayt's arms and legs trembled. He was going to fall; he knew it. He needed to let Albel know—before they both fell. “Albel!” he cried, the name being forced out of him. Albel responded by biting his shoulder. He moaned, but the shaking in his elbows reminded him of his dilemma. “I'm going—“ He gasped, panting, trying to get enough breath to say something. Albel was relentless and didn't slow so Fayt could breathe. If anything, he seemed to like that Fayt couldn't breathe.

Fayt managed to get a deep breath. He immediately used it. “Albel, I'm going to fall!” he cried. Immediately, Albel moved to accommodate the problem. He grabbed a hold of Fayt's waist. There were only so many positions they could do out here—with the rocks and the dirt. He considered briefly, then backed out of Fayt. He hauled him to his feet and moved him to the rock wall again, this time with his back to it. He lifted one of Fayt's legs, and lowered himself. He made certain that Fayt was steady. He was; one leg was wrapped around Albel's waist, the other one on tip-toe on the ground, but solid, back leaning against the wall, with his hands locked on to Albel's shoulders.

Albel gently and slowly pushed himself inside Fayt, sheathing himself inside him. He sighed softly, pushing his face against the younger man's neck, inhaling his aroma. Fayt moaned gently, his grip tightening. They kissed again. Their lips didn't leave one another. They moaned, gasped, and cried out in pleasure, but their lips rarely parted, their tongues rarely didn't meet. Fayt couldn't take it any more.

“I'm—“ he gasped. “Going to—“ He moaned, then gave a sharp cry followed by a long wail of pleasure. “Can't…”

Albel pressed his lips fiercely against Fayt's. If Fayt was ready, then he needed to be too. He put his all in to it, deriving as much pleasure as he possibly could from the boy. It was all too much for Fayt. With another wail, he came, splattering both of their chests. Albel released right after he did, deep in his bowels. They stopped, all movement stopped. They could only try to catch their breath. Albel lowered Fayt to the ground and fell out of him. Fayt leaned heavily against the wall, panting, unable to breathe. He really wanted some water right about now—his throat was terribly parched. He glanced at his chest. Maybe a damp towel too. He thought he might give his left lung for a decent shower.

The other swordsman dropped down beside him, trying to control his breathing. When they had recovered, they had one problem: What to do about Fayt's semen all over their chests.

Albel had an obvious solution, and Fayt, eager to please him, as the Elicoorian had pleased him, agreed. He licked the semen off of his chest, then laid down and let Albel do the same, also lapping at his thighs. Afterwards, Albel straddled him and kissed him again before he stood up and began pulling his clothes back on. Fayt followed his lead.

Now, they moved on to finding a way back to the others.