FFX-2: Mirage
Fandom: Final Fantasy X-2
Pairing: Gippal/Baralai
Warnings: Smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: Gippal flies his airship successfully through a storm -- successfully, in that he and Baralai crash land more or less safely in the desert.
Notes: Written for a 10k in a weekend challenge, making ~6k of the 10k, given a check over and given a short coda. I seem to recall it was irish_ais who gave me the idea and she's quite eager to see it, so.
He felt Baralai's hands pressing against his chest, and the gentle wash of healing magic, before he really registered anything else. Then he realised that he had a headache, pounding as if something had crawled into his skull and was repeatedly pushing outwards -- hard -- in a bid to escape. "Did I drink too much?"
Baralai laughed. "No. Can you sit up?"
Gippal tried, and found that, yes, he could. There were rather more of Baralai than there were meant to be, but aside from that... "Ooh. Are you sure I didn't drink too much? My head..."
"The airship..." Baralai bit his lip. "There was some kind of freak storm. Remember?"
Gippal decided that if it had been that bad he didn't want to remember, but the real world had to intrude sometime and he looked around, somewhat unwillingly, at the wreckage around them, and wondered what kind of swear words were applicable in this situation. "Ur cred," he tried, and then, "vilg," and then, finally, and most quietly, "shit."
"That covers all your bases," Baralai said, dryly. "Do you need another cure spell?"
"Can you just knock me out until we get rescued?"
Baralai rolled his eyes, getting up and dusting sand from his clothes. "I was going to explore the area, but I didn't want to go until you woke. Perhaps we should try to salvage things from the wreckage first, in any case?"
"Oh, right." Gippal tried to get up and then decided to just sit still a moment longer until the world stopped spinning and going black at the edges. "There is... or was, anyway, a compartment built into my airship, built to withstand impact. Just in case, you know? It might take some getting into, but it should be doable... there'll be tools and rations and... you know, that kind of thing in there. Survival kit. No water, though, which will be our biggest problem... Still, if we look for fiends, we should be fine."
"Why would we want to go looking for fiends?"
"There're more likely to be fiends near water. Can you give me a hand up?"
Baralai grabbed Gippal's arm and heaved him up, and Gippal clutched at him for another dizzy moment, glad that Baralai had always been stronger than he looked. "Maybe I should cast another cure spell," Baralai said, thoughtfully, as he steadied Gippal. He closed his eyes -- he'd always done that, Gippal remembered, no matter how they'd badgered him to pay better attention to the actual battle (and then he thought how irrelevant that thought was: he must have hit his head pretty damn hard) -- and cast, letting go of Gippal as the waves of healing energy did their work. "Any better?"
"Much," Gippal said: appreciating, for a moment, how still and clear and normal the world had suddenly become. He turned to the wreckage, eyeing it carefully. "Right, the compartment should be... over there. The... part that's most smashed up."
"I hope the supplies are safe."
"Hey, I built that thing to last."
"Did you ever get to test it in such conditions?"
"There aren't that many airships that we can just squander them, you know," Gippal said, defensively. He glanced again at the wreckage, thoughtfully. "See if you can find anything we can use to call for help. I'll work on the compartment. There should be some rockets in there or something, anyway."
Baralai turned away, picking his way through some of the wreckage, avoiding anything that was obviously still smoking. "I'll have a look for anything more... immediate."
"We're bound to get found," Gippal said, cheerfully, with an optimism he didn't particularly feel. "Riks and Nhadala will have to find me just to nag me about flying into storms like that."
"You've done it before?" Baralai asked, amusement in his voice. He flipped over a panel of metal, wrinkling at the sparking, useless circuitry it revealed.
"I've never lost an airship before."
"I'm sorry."
"Eh..." Gippal flashed a smile at Baralai. "Rather it than us. Machina can always be rebuilt. People... Unless they're Nooj, not so much."
"You could rebuild a whole airship?"
Gippal crouched down beside a large boxy structure, grinning. "Told you it'd survive. Look. It's hardly even dented, and the release mechanism to open it should be fine. And yeah, we've just about got the technology to start building things like airships again... it'll take trial and error. It's easier to renovate, to add to, than to begin again. But there's the Fahrenheit and the Celsius both in the air again now, and I'm sure I can pester my way into looking at the workings on them."
"You're the leader of the Machine Faction, aren't you? Can't you just... well, order them to let you see it?"
"Al Bhed are... less likely to gather under one central leader than your people, you know. They're more sceptical, they're used to questioning what some big boss says." Gippal smiled, even as he worked his fingers into a release mechanism, trying to get it to do its job. "So only about a quarter of the Al Bhed would say they're in the Machine Faction, I'd guess, and not even all of them would accept me as an absolute leader."
"Hard to imagine." Baralai smiled a little, lifting aside more panels of metal and peering into the tangled, crushed wreckage. "I say 'jump', people still ask 'how high?', even though I'm trying to teach them to move on."
"Are you?"
"What do you mean?"
Gippal shrugged. All of his focus was, all of a sudden, on the mechanism beneath his hands. "Forget it."
"People can't change all at once, you know," Baralai said, softly. "I'm only offering them an easier way."
"I don't want people to just change. I want them to... well, grow. Change always happens, no matter how you like it. But growing, we have to work at it... easing people into that will never work." Gippal tugged hard and the door of the compartment came open. "Got it! Here we go. From the looks of the sun, the first thing we should do is get a shelter up and try to sleep through the hottest part of the day. Was I really unconscious that long? Didn't you try to wake me?"
"You were," Baralai said. His mouth twitched into a smile. "So was I, for much of it. I can't believe how long some of this has burned for..."
"Still, that's to our advantage. It's taken care of the smoke signal, so far. By night time, we'll have to build a large fire for a beacon."
"I don't see anything we can salvage for proper communication."
"That's what I expected. Come over here and help me get this stuff out."
Baralai nodded, stepping nimbly over more bits of wreckage and joining Gippal. For an instant he was hyper aware of Baralai's shoulder against his, warm and too warm, unwelcome heat in the desert and yet -- and then they gave a good heave, right at the same moment, and the things came spilling out of the compartment and they stepped apart. Gippal rooted amongst the supplies for a moment, retrieving a heavy bag and getting up.
"Here, let's put this tent up now. It's light stuff, but it'll keep the sun off us, and hopefully be cooler because it's light. I hope it won't be too cold at night."
"Cold? In the desert?"
Gippal grinned. "You'll see. It shouldn't be too bad, but just wait until the sand has cooled and there's a breeze. You'll be surprised."
"Not now you've said that."
"Oh, I think you still will be, even if you won't admit it. I'd place bets, but..."
Baralai rolled his eyes. "So how do we put this up?"
---
The tent, when they put it up successfully -- which took longer than Baralai had hoped, and less time than Gippal had expected -- proved to be a smallish, boxy-ish affair, with just enough room for them both to lie full length, side by side, and enough room to stand in an uncomfortable position that was more like a crouch. Baralai sat inside, his darker skin looking none the worse for the sunshine which had been beating down on them, though Gippal's fair skin was tinged pink. Baralai had taken most of his clothes off -- Gippal looked at him now with some surprise: it seemed somehow indecent for him to be not quite dressed, though he seemed to have a tan all over.
Gippal refused to contemplate what that might mean.
"Should we try and sleep?"
"I think so. I've spent so much time unconscious, but I still feel tired."
"Are you sure you're not just lazy?" Baralai teased, gently.
"It's the heat that does it. I always go to bed early, in Bikanel."
"How did you end up in Djose?"
"Never heard that story?" Gippal raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Baralai. "I went walkabout a bit, as soon as Yuna's Calm began. I know I saw quite a bit more of Spira than most Al Bhed, because I was too footloose to stay in the Al Bhed Home for long, and because I went to join the Crimson Squad... when I got to Djose Temple, it had been pretty much abandoned. There was an old guy shouting about heathens and all that, but... I hardly noticed him. It's... a magical place, really, I think."
"I suppose it was the electricity that drew you to it."
"Magnetism," Gippal said, with a grin. "Riks always groans when I make jokes about that. But it really does... the spark gets inside you. I can imagine how summoners must have felt, conferring with the fayth, continuing on their journeys... it must have felt so empowering, to pray, to think that they could maybe vanquish Sin."
"I always thought I should do something like that. I wasn't... I've never been particularly self sacrificing."
"You run a good ship nowadays, though." Gippal stretched a little, glancing at Baralai. "Sometimes, sacrifice isn't what you need. And what was Yuna going on about just before we fought Vegnagun? She's tired of losing people, having them fade away... I think all of Spira is. I know I am."
For a moment, Baralai was quiet. "Did you lose many friends?"
"My friends, my family..." Gippal shrugged a little. "I try not to dwell on it."
Baralai's hand moved, a little, and then stopped: Gippal wondered for a moment if perhaps he'd meant to reach out, take his hand. He imagined tangling his fingers with Baralai's, slim fingers winding in with his own. He'd never thought of them as calloused, but perhaps they would be, given Baralai's weapon... he squashed back a sudden strange urge to know, to find out, to take Baralai's hand in his, kiss those fingers --
"I must have got hit on the head so hard," he said, aloud.
Baralai frowned in concern. "Do you need another cure spell?"
"No... it's not that." Gippal stretched a little, closing his eyes. "Sorry. Thinking aloud."
"Ah." There was silence between them for a while, a heavy one. Gippal found himself wishing that Rikku were around, to lighten the mood -- and realised quickly that he'd rapidly get sick of her, and that she wouldn't let there be any silence at all. Baralai cleared his throat, speaking quietly. "Do you suppose we'll get rescued in time?"
"Yeah," Gippal said, reaching for Baralai's hand -- and this time he really did hold it, feeling the surprising strength in the slim fingers even as Baralai tried to pretend he didn't want the comfort. "Riks and Nhadala won't rest until they find us, once they know we're missing."
There was another silence -- a short one, this time. "Are you... are you and Rikku, you know, an item?"
He snorted. "God, no."
"You always talk about her."
"She's my best friend, these days. My partner in crime. She of course does have a crush on me, one of epic proportions, but that's to be expected. She knows it's never going to get anywhere, all things considered." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Gippal bit his lip. Yeah, man, way to be obvious. He really must have been hit on the head rather hard.
"Ah," Baralai said, and didn't inquire further, for which Gippal decided he was grateful for, rather than disappointed at. "I'm going to go to sleep now."
"Okay," Gippal said, and closed his own eye. After a moment of waiting, he decided he would take the fact that Baralai was still holding his hand as a favorable sign. He gave his hand a bit of a squeeze. Baralai squeezed back. Neither of them said a word.
---
When he woke again, hours later, the sun outside was a lot less glaring, and Baralai was still holding his hand. Carefully, he detached himself, slipping outside of the tent as quietly as he could. Rikku would probably have woken -- she always complained -- but Baralai went on sleeping, and Gippal couldn't help the thought that 'Lai probably needed the extra sleep. He might not have bags under his eyes or anything as obvious as that, but he was running himself ragged for New Yevon and it showed.
"Oh geez, what am I, his mother?" Gippal said, aloud, and then glanced back at the tent to make sure he hadn't spoken too loud. "You just stay asleep," he muttered, despite himself, and then removed himself from the immediate vicinity of the tent to root through the supplies again. Rations, rations, more rations, flares, blankets that they certainly didn't need yet, water bottles that were unfortunately empty...
He stood up, sighing, and straightened up as much as he could, trying to reach behind himself to press the sore, taut spots in his back into submission. Nothing gave. Finally, he gave up and stooped, grabbing a pair of binoculars from the supplies. He climbed quickly up onto the top of a dune, the highest ground available. For a moment he scanned the horizon, biting his lip. For once, it started to look as if there were no fiends.
"Never there when you want them... ah!"
Somewhere over on the horizon, further away from them than even he had pessimistly expected, there was a shimmer of heat and movement. Gippal hoped to god it wasn't a mirage -- the fiends suggested it might be real water, of course, but... He stooped and quickly drew an arrow in the sand, long enough and deep enough that the wind as it was shouldn't erase it. And then he placed his binoculars on the bottom of it. There was no point trying to write a message in the sand or anything like that. Baralai was a smart kind of person, he'd figure it out quickly enough.
Gippal fastened as many of the light, empty bottles to his clothing as he could, and even deigned to find something he could use to cover his head and tuck potions into his pockets. "Should've brought suntan lotion," he muttered to himself as he set out. He glanced back at the bivouac. "I won't be long, 'Lai."
Maybe, he thought, he could even get back before Baralai woke.
---
When Baralai woke, it had become significantly cooler. "I'm not surprised," he said, aloud, expecting Gippal to respond: perhaps he was just outside -- and that would be all to the better, because it would mean he couldn't have done anything embarassing in his sleep, like cuddle up to Gippal or drool on him or something. "But I am pleased. I hope it'll be like this for a while."
There was no response. Frowning, he struggled with his clothes, trying to put a few more of them on first, and then he moved quickly out of the tent and into the surprisingly pleasant evening. The sun was more or less down, though the sand was still radiating heat.
"Gippal?"
Catching sight of pair of binoculars on a sand dune, he went over to it, frowning. There was a line drawn in the sand -- deep enough that the wind hadn't blown it or smudged it much. Bending to pick up the binoculars, frowning, Baralai looked through them. In the distance, he saw something that might have meant water -- a few fiends, perhaps, moving around it, perhaps fighting, and perhaps the faintest glimmer and glint. There was no sign of Gippal.
Something closed tight around Baralai's heart and squeezed. He scrambled down off the sand dune, bending to grab his weapon from somewhere amid the wreckage. The only other things he grabbed were a handful of potions from the supplies and the binoculars.
It was harder to run on the sand than he had expected, he found. On a beach, near the water, the sand is usually packed together by virtue of being sodden, but in the desert the sand was fine and light, shifting under his feet and slipping away before him down the hills, and sometimes his every step would plunge him deep into the sand. Sometimes he had to slow, to keep his footing properly, and then he would always look through the binoculars, anxiously hoping to see Gippal -- even Gippal with his smug smile and mockery might have been welcome right then -- and keeping himself pointed in the right direction. And, sometimes, looking behind him, making sure he could still see the largest part of the wreckage, which still appeared to be gently smouldering.
He wasn't sure how long he went on for. Behind him, the wreckage never really seemed to get further away. He caught no sight of Gippal, and nor did he seem to be getting closer to the hint of water that lay always far ahead of him.
When he saw movement in the middle distance, Baralai gripped his staff tightly. It could be Gippal, he told himself. Then again, it could also be a vicious slavering fiend with sharp teeth and poisonous spit, just come from killing and eating Gippal. The sand shifted beneath his feet as he moved into a more defensive stance. He wondered if he could fight on the sand like this. His usual advantages lay in speed and agility, and --
"Baralai!"
Baralai, for a moment, wasn't sure whether he wanted to hit Gippal, kiss him, or outright kill him. "You should have woken me up," he said, sternly, once he'd recovered himself a bit. "I was -- I thought you might have been killed."
"Oh," Gippal said, suddenly looking contrite. "I thought I'd be able to get there and back before you woke. It was water, so -- it was worth it."
Baralai fought with his conflicting urges for a moment longer, and successfully convinced himself not to go through with any of them. "Did you bring a lot of water back?"
"Enough to carry us over until we move over nearer the water."
Baralai looked back over the way Gippal had come, and swallowed a vague sick, weary feeling. "We have to drag our camp all the way over there?"
"That's better than walking for water every day. Hey, are you okay?"
He wanted to say he was, but the sick, dizzy feeling didn't go away, and he contemplated how long it had been since he'd eaten or drank properly. He didn't even manage to get the word no out his mouth, let alone some assurance that he would be fine in a moment, before the world swam in front of his eyes and he collapsed. Gippal caught him easily -- a fact he was grateful for, dimly: there was enough sand in his mouth already...
"You idiot," Gippal said, lowering him carefully to the ground and fumbling for water, and potions.
---
Baralai woke in the tent. For a moment, he was confused -- he must have dreamed the long expanse of sand, and that long, exhausting walk... but no, he realised. He was fully dressed still, and there was a nasty taste in his mouth: the aftertaste of a potion. He hoped he hadn't made too much of a fool of himself. When he sat up, he found a flask of water next to him -- when he swallowed some, it was surprisingly cool and smooth in his mouth. He'd almost expected it to be full of sand. He listened carefully and heard Gippal moving around outside, and decided it was safe to drink a little more and then lie down and sleep a little more.
He carefully put the cap back on the flask before he lay down, and after that, he knew no more.
---
While Baralai slept, Gippal got to work on making a kind of sled out of the rubbish. He couldn't find enough bits to put a proper engine in it, to his annoyance, but he did manage to rig something that would be easier to pull than it looked. He began to pick through the rubble and wreckage again, picking useful things -- reluctantly not taking any remaining bits of the airship, even out of sentimentality. "We can always salvage the remnants later," he told himself, firmly, and stuck to the bare necessities. Alone, he could pull the sledge. With Baralai's help, he was sure it would be fine. He stowed a few more flasks of water there, ready for the trip across the desert.
"I was picturing carrying it across on our backs," Baralai said, making him jump. There was an interested note in his voice.
"That why you fainted?" Gippal said, teasingly, when he'd recovered from the shock. He grinned. "We're still going to have to drag it. There weren't enough bits or pairs of hands to make it an engine. If I did some digging around here I'd probably find some more bits, but I'd rather not."
"Of course." Baralai crouched down beside the sled, looking at it. "You made this out of the wreckage?"
"Yup. It's fifty percent junk and burned up bits and fifty percent pure genius."
Baralai laughed a little, looking up at him. "Smug as ever, I see."
"Naturally." He grinned. "Expected me to be anything else?"
"No... It could get annoying, though."
"Me? Annoying?"
"Of course not," Baralai said, teasingly. He stood up, and they found themselves rather too close. Gippal imagined he could feel the heat of Baralai's body even through the inches between them. He smiled a bit.
"I -- thank you, for worrying about me. Coming after me like that might've been the saving of me. It was stupid to go off on my own."
"It was stupid of me to follow you," Baralai said, shaking his head. "I don't know the desert as you do, I didn't have any water..."
"Still, you had more sense than most. You might've ended up going round in a circle." Gippal realised that they were getting closer all the time -- magnetism, he thought, thinking of the spark inside. Baralai's eyes dropped.
"I thought you might've -- "
"Died?"
"Yeah," he said, softer. Gippal reached up and cupped Baralai's cheek and kissed him -- eagerly, clumsily, so that they both pulled apart a little to laugh. Baralai put his arms around Gippal, drawing him closer, laughing as they kissed again. "I thought -- when I saw the movement of you coming close, I imagined that, I don't know, that there was a big fiend just coming from killing and eating you -- "
"I'm here," Gippal said, obviously, and he really was, he was entirely there and in the moment and Baralai was in his arms. He kissed him again. "I'm alive."
"Couldn't do this with a ghost," Baralai agreed, laughing a little again.
Neither of them knew who started the quick stumble to their tents, the detour for an extra potion, but both of them went along with it, suddenly wanting it -- needing it. They slipping into the bivouac, shedding clothes and sand, and all the while they kissed, and touched, and held. Gippal pushed Baralai down onto the ground and kissed him all over: first his mouth and then his jaw and then his neck and lower. He kissed his nipple and licked and teased and bit, and Baralai moaned and ran his fingers through Gippal's hair, over the back of his neck, over his shoulders.
"I've wanted you," he said, breathlessly, "for years."
"Could've said something about it," Gippal pointed out, biting at Baralai's nipple again, making his breath catch and a soft noise spill out of his mouth that he certainly didn't intend to make -- didn't know he could make. "I'd've been happy to oblige you with some hot and sweaty alone time."
"I would've preferred something with -- " Baralai broke off, supposedly to moan, but Gippal stopped and looked up at him, fingers moving in restless patterns over his side.
"What would you have preferred?"
"Something with more feeling," Baralai said, after a moment, and the look in his eyes was warm and wanting and he reached up to cup Gippal's face in both hands, pulled him closer and kissed him with all that feeling that he'd knotted up tight somewhere inside. Gippal pressed against him, skin to skin, and it should've been too much heat, he should've wanted to push him away, but he wanted to draw him closer, hold him tighter, until somehow they might meld into one thing, never to be alone again.
"I love you," Gippal said, in something that was more a moan than anything else, and he ran his hands over Baralai's body: restless, possessive, hungry. "You have no idea how often I tried to say it -- it was that stupid stuff with Shuyin, I never thought you'd want -- "
"I do want," Baralai said, kissing Gippal again, pushing his tongue into his mouth for a moment, wrapping around him to hold him tighter. "You've no idea how much I want you." And he shivers, even in the heat, even in that melting pot sharing, at the thought of Shuyin.
Gippal presses harder against him. "It's alright," he said, somehow knowing, "there's only me here with you now."
And the look in Baralai's eyes then was so tender that Gippal closed his eyes and just kissed him, over and over, sweetly and softly and deeply and needily. They pressed closer together, rocking a little, gasping at unexpected pleasure, holding tight and kissing, kissing, kissing again and again.
"I want -- "
"What do you want?"
Baralai ran his fingers through Gippal's hair, pushed up again him, kissing him again and bit at his lip, tugged at it. "I want you inside me," he said, and he found the potion again and pressed it into Gippal's searching hand, and then he was spreading his legs, almost offering himself, and Gippal made a soft noise that was wanting and surrender and pleasure at the thought and the sight.
"I can do that," he said, teasing a little, but his hands weren't quite steady in opening the potion and he spilt a little, and it took him a moment to actually get his fingers coated in the stuff. "God, you make me -- I'm like a teenager with you, you know?"
"Should I be pleased?" Baralai asked, laughing, wrapping his arms around him again -- pushing up, wanting, impatient.
"Smug, maybe," Gippal said, grinning, but he gave Baralai no time for smugness or more banter, reaching down and tracing his entrance with potion slicked fingers -- pushing them in deep, two at once, twisting. Baralai gasped, pushed up, thinking that it should hurt, but the potion tingled against his skin, inside him, and all he could do was shiver, and shiver, and hold onto Gippal, and dig his fingers into his shoulders, wanting an anchor, wanting his warm body pressed close again. "Who'd've thought an airship crash would be a good thing?" Gippal said, watching Baralai shiver and arch under him and wondering if perhaps he could completely shatter his control, make him a thing of passion and wanting, fill him with such hunger that he forgot where all the boundaries were and lost himself in it.
He had, he realised, been wanting to see Baralai like that for years. He twisted his fingers again, watching, leaning down to occupy his mouth with Baralai's body, hungry for him -- kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, his neck, leaving a livid mark on his collarbone where in his robes the collar would be high enough to cover it. Baralai moaned -- writhed under him, pushing up against him.
"More," he said, breathlessly, and Gippal obliged, pushing another finger into him, pushing his fingers in hard and deep and twisting, searching -- Baralai bucked up, a breathless cry on his lips, and he kissed him again -- again and again and again, hungry and eager and needy and wanting. He pressed hard against him, pressed against him so their cocks rubbed together, and he rocked his hips slowly and insistently and tried to keep his own control when even thinking about what he was doing too closely made him want to stop that and just fuck Baralai, make him come screaming and then come inside him so hard the world might move and spin about them for sheer pleasure.
"Want me to fuck you, 'Lai?" Gippal asked, and his voice was low and husky and even that -- hearing the effect he was having on him -- made Baralai shiver.
"Yes," he said, softly, drawing him close again, kissing everywhere he could reach. "Please."
"I do love you," Gippal said, suddenly, and kissed him again, and then he was pulling his fingers out and his cock was pressing up against Baralai's entrance and he thought he was having trouble breathing, but it didn't seem to matter.
"Please," he said, again, and Gippal pushed into him -- slowly, now, so slowly it was frustrating, made him want to grab him and force him to thrust in hard. He just held on, trying to breathe, feeling like he couldn't even though there was no reason why not, and he was trembling and out of control. "Please."
"It's okay," Gippal said, running a hand over his side in an almost soothing movement, rocking his hips in a way that sent tingles through Baralai's spine. He kissed him again, kissed him as deeply as he could, as if he'd never stop, and then he really started to move -- pushing in harder, deeper, making Baralai cry out softly and cling to him, kiss him with real honest to Yevon need. "I'm going to give you everything you want," Gippal said, barely aware of what he was saying, breathing erratically, feeling as if he couldn't get enough of anything -- enough of air, enough of Baralai. "You're so, oh, so tight."
"Driving you crazy, aren't I?" Baralai whispered, with more passion than Gippal expected even given what they were doing. He thought about the old clichés about drowning in a person and thought he knew what they meant.
"You really are," he said, kissing, kissing him, kissing him over and over, again and again, and once more for luck. "I love you."
"I love you too," Baralai said, and he said it so softly it was almost still a whisper. It was like a secret, even though there was no one else to hear -- and it was stupid, but Gippal felt amazed and humbled and so moved by it. He closed his eye, thrusting harder, deeper, listening to Baralai's breathy little cries, cock twitching at every little noise.
"You're amazing," he whispered, thrusting harder and harder, deeper and deeper, pressing close and holding on, holding so tight. "Almost wish we could stay like this forever -- "
Clumsily, he reached between their bodies, wrapped his hand around Baralai's cock and squeezed, started to stroke. Baralai bucked up, squeezing around him, and almost like magic, crazily, impossibly, they were coming at the same time, holding on to each other, and Gippal was sure he must have moaned Baralai's name and yet his own name from Baralai's lips was echoing in his ears.
Baralai's arms wrapped tightly round him, and he drew him close, and just held him, as if he'd never let go.
---
"Well, I suppose the storm was good for something," someone said, wryly, from the door of the tent. Gippal shot into a sitting position, dislodging Baralai. The blurry figure at the door resolved into the distinctive outline of --
"Nooj?"
"Typical. I'm worrying and sending out search parties and the two of you are laying here like this..." Nooj shook his head slightly. "Your pants are somewhere outside. I'm glad we didn't get here earlier. Though, as I was saying, it's a good thing. We've been waiting for you to get together since you first met, and at least now you've done it in a place where no one else has to see or hear."
Baralai made a sleepy noise. Gippal rubbed frantically at his eyes. "Are you sure you're really there?"
"Unfortunately for me. If you'd like to get dressed, there's a hover waiting to take you back to the Al Bhed camp. Paine's with me, too."
"Nhadala's going to be furious," he said, groaning. He blinked again. "If the sight is so displeasing, why are you still there grinning like a pervert, Noojster?"
Nooj snorted and backed out of the entrance, throwing a bundle of clothes into the tent. "Wake Baralai. If we travel soon, we'll avoid the hottest part of the day."
Pairing: Gippal/Baralai
Warnings: Smut
Rating: NC17
Summary: Gippal flies his airship successfully through a storm -- successfully, in that he and Baralai crash land more or less safely in the desert.
Notes: Written for a 10k in a weekend challenge, making ~6k of the 10k, given a check over and given a short coda. I seem to recall it was irish_ais who gave me the idea and she's quite eager to see it, so.
He felt Baralai's hands pressing against his chest, and the gentle wash of healing magic, before he really registered anything else. Then he realised that he had a headache, pounding as if something had crawled into his skull and was repeatedly pushing outwards -- hard -- in a bid to escape. "Did I drink too much?"
Baralai laughed. "No. Can you sit up?"
Gippal tried, and found that, yes, he could. There were rather more of Baralai than there were meant to be, but aside from that... "Ooh. Are you sure I didn't drink too much? My head..."
"The airship..." Baralai bit his lip. "There was some kind of freak storm. Remember?"
Gippal decided that if it had been that bad he didn't want to remember, but the real world had to intrude sometime and he looked around, somewhat unwillingly, at the wreckage around them, and wondered what kind of swear words were applicable in this situation. "Ur cred," he tried, and then, "vilg," and then, finally, and most quietly, "shit."
"That covers all your bases," Baralai said, dryly. "Do you need another cure spell?"
"Can you just knock me out until we get rescued?"
Baralai rolled his eyes, getting up and dusting sand from his clothes. "I was going to explore the area, but I didn't want to go until you woke. Perhaps we should try to salvage things from the wreckage first, in any case?"
"Oh, right." Gippal tried to get up and then decided to just sit still a moment longer until the world stopped spinning and going black at the edges. "There is... or was, anyway, a compartment built into my airship, built to withstand impact. Just in case, you know? It might take some getting into, but it should be doable... there'll be tools and rations and... you know, that kind of thing in there. Survival kit. No water, though, which will be our biggest problem... Still, if we look for fiends, we should be fine."
"Why would we want to go looking for fiends?"
"There're more likely to be fiends near water. Can you give me a hand up?"
Baralai grabbed Gippal's arm and heaved him up, and Gippal clutched at him for another dizzy moment, glad that Baralai had always been stronger than he looked. "Maybe I should cast another cure spell," Baralai said, thoughtfully, as he steadied Gippal. He closed his eyes -- he'd always done that, Gippal remembered, no matter how they'd badgered him to pay better attention to the actual battle (and then he thought how irrelevant that thought was: he must have hit his head pretty damn hard) -- and cast, letting go of Gippal as the waves of healing energy did their work. "Any better?"
"Much," Gippal said: appreciating, for a moment, how still and clear and normal the world had suddenly become. He turned to the wreckage, eyeing it carefully. "Right, the compartment should be... over there. The... part that's most smashed up."
"I hope the supplies are safe."
"Hey, I built that thing to last."
"Did you ever get to test it in such conditions?"
"There aren't that many airships that we can just squander them, you know," Gippal said, defensively. He glanced again at the wreckage, thoughtfully. "See if you can find anything we can use to call for help. I'll work on the compartment. There should be some rockets in there or something, anyway."
Baralai turned away, picking his way through some of the wreckage, avoiding anything that was obviously still smoking. "I'll have a look for anything more... immediate."
"We're bound to get found," Gippal said, cheerfully, with an optimism he didn't particularly feel. "Riks and Nhadala will have to find me just to nag me about flying into storms like that."
"You've done it before?" Baralai asked, amusement in his voice. He flipped over a panel of metal, wrinkling at the sparking, useless circuitry it revealed.
"I've never lost an airship before."
"I'm sorry."
"Eh..." Gippal flashed a smile at Baralai. "Rather it than us. Machina can always be rebuilt. People... Unless they're Nooj, not so much."
"You could rebuild a whole airship?"
Gippal crouched down beside a large boxy structure, grinning. "Told you it'd survive. Look. It's hardly even dented, and the release mechanism to open it should be fine. And yeah, we've just about got the technology to start building things like airships again... it'll take trial and error. It's easier to renovate, to add to, than to begin again. But there's the Fahrenheit and the Celsius both in the air again now, and I'm sure I can pester my way into looking at the workings on them."
"You're the leader of the Machine Faction, aren't you? Can't you just... well, order them to let you see it?"
"Al Bhed are... less likely to gather under one central leader than your people, you know. They're more sceptical, they're used to questioning what some big boss says." Gippal smiled, even as he worked his fingers into a release mechanism, trying to get it to do its job. "So only about a quarter of the Al Bhed would say they're in the Machine Faction, I'd guess, and not even all of them would accept me as an absolute leader."
"Hard to imagine." Baralai smiled a little, lifting aside more panels of metal and peering into the tangled, crushed wreckage. "I say 'jump', people still ask 'how high?', even though I'm trying to teach them to move on."
"Are you?"
"What do you mean?"
Gippal shrugged. All of his focus was, all of a sudden, on the mechanism beneath his hands. "Forget it."
"People can't change all at once, you know," Baralai said, softly. "I'm only offering them an easier way."
"I don't want people to just change. I want them to... well, grow. Change always happens, no matter how you like it. But growing, we have to work at it... easing people into that will never work." Gippal tugged hard and the door of the compartment came open. "Got it! Here we go. From the looks of the sun, the first thing we should do is get a shelter up and try to sleep through the hottest part of the day. Was I really unconscious that long? Didn't you try to wake me?"
"You were," Baralai said. His mouth twitched into a smile. "So was I, for much of it. I can't believe how long some of this has burned for..."
"Still, that's to our advantage. It's taken care of the smoke signal, so far. By night time, we'll have to build a large fire for a beacon."
"I don't see anything we can salvage for proper communication."
"That's what I expected. Come over here and help me get this stuff out."
Baralai nodded, stepping nimbly over more bits of wreckage and joining Gippal. For an instant he was hyper aware of Baralai's shoulder against his, warm and too warm, unwelcome heat in the desert and yet -- and then they gave a good heave, right at the same moment, and the things came spilling out of the compartment and they stepped apart. Gippal rooted amongst the supplies for a moment, retrieving a heavy bag and getting up.
"Here, let's put this tent up now. It's light stuff, but it'll keep the sun off us, and hopefully be cooler because it's light. I hope it won't be too cold at night."
"Cold? In the desert?"
Gippal grinned. "You'll see. It shouldn't be too bad, but just wait until the sand has cooled and there's a breeze. You'll be surprised."
"Not now you've said that."
"Oh, I think you still will be, even if you won't admit it. I'd place bets, but..."
Baralai rolled his eyes. "So how do we put this up?"
---
The tent, when they put it up successfully -- which took longer than Baralai had hoped, and less time than Gippal had expected -- proved to be a smallish, boxy-ish affair, with just enough room for them both to lie full length, side by side, and enough room to stand in an uncomfortable position that was more like a crouch. Baralai sat inside, his darker skin looking none the worse for the sunshine which had been beating down on them, though Gippal's fair skin was tinged pink. Baralai had taken most of his clothes off -- Gippal looked at him now with some surprise: it seemed somehow indecent for him to be not quite dressed, though he seemed to have a tan all over.
Gippal refused to contemplate what that might mean.
"Should we try and sleep?"
"I think so. I've spent so much time unconscious, but I still feel tired."
"Are you sure you're not just lazy?" Baralai teased, gently.
"It's the heat that does it. I always go to bed early, in Bikanel."
"How did you end up in Djose?"
"Never heard that story?" Gippal raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Baralai. "I went walkabout a bit, as soon as Yuna's Calm began. I know I saw quite a bit more of Spira than most Al Bhed, because I was too footloose to stay in the Al Bhed Home for long, and because I went to join the Crimson Squad... when I got to Djose Temple, it had been pretty much abandoned. There was an old guy shouting about heathens and all that, but... I hardly noticed him. It's... a magical place, really, I think."
"I suppose it was the electricity that drew you to it."
"Magnetism," Gippal said, with a grin. "Riks always groans when I make jokes about that. But it really does... the spark gets inside you. I can imagine how summoners must have felt, conferring with the fayth, continuing on their journeys... it must have felt so empowering, to pray, to think that they could maybe vanquish Sin."
"I always thought I should do something like that. I wasn't... I've never been particularly self sacrificing."
"You run a good ship nowadays, though." Gippal stretched a little, glancing at Baralai. "Sometimes, sacrifice isn't what you need. And what was Yuna going on about just before we fought Vegnagun? She's tired of losing people, having them fade away... I think all of Spira is. I know I am."
For a moment, Baralai was quiet. "Did you lose many friends?"
"My friends, my family..." Gippal shrugged a little. "I try not to dwell on it."
Baralai's hand moved, a little, and then stopped: Gippal wondered for a moment if perhaps he'd meant to reach out, take his hand. He imagined tangling his fingers with Baralai's, slim fingers winding in with his own. He'd never thought of them as calloused, but perhaps they would be, given Baralai's weapon... he squashed back a sudden strange urge to know, to find out, to take Baralai's hand in his, kiss those fingers --
"I must have got hit on the head so hard," he said, aloud.
Baralai frowned in concern. "Do you need another cure spell?"
"No... it's not that." Gippal stretched a little, closing his eyes. "Sorry. Thinking aloud."
"Ah." There was silence between them for a while, a heavy one. Gippal found himself wishing that Rikku were around, to lighten the mood -- and realised quickly that he'd rapidly get sick of her, and that she wouldn't let there be any silence at all. Baralai cleared his throat, speaking quietly. "Do you suppose we'll get rescued in time?"
"Yeah," Gippal said, reaching for Baralai's hand -- and this time he really did hold it, feeling the surprising strength in the slim fingers even as Baralai tried to pretend he didn't want the comfort. "Riks and Nhadala won't rest until they find us, once they know we're missing."
There was another silence -- a short one, this time. "Are you... are you and Rikku, you know, an item?"
He snorted. "God, no."
"You always talk about her."
"She's my best friend, these days. My partner in crime. She of course does have a crush on me, one of epic proportions, but that's to be expected. She knows it's never going to get anywhere, all things considered." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Gippal bit his lip. Yeah, man, way to be obvious. He really must have been hit on the head rather hard.
"Ah," Baralai said, and didn't inquire further, for which Gippal decided he was grateful for, rather than disappointed at. "I'm going to go to sleep now."
"Okay," Gippal said, and closed his own eye. After a moment of waiting, he decided he would take the fact that Baralai was still holding his hand as a favorable sign. He gave his hand a bit of a squeeze. Baralai squeezed back. Neither of them said a word.
---
When he woke again, hours later, the sun outside was a lot less glaring, and Baralai was still holding his hand. Carefully, he detached himself, slipping outside of the tent as quietly as he could. Rikku would probably have woken -- she always complained -- but Baralai went on sleeping, and Gippal couldn't help the thought that 'Lai probably needed the extra sleep. He might not have bags under his eyes or anything as obvious as that, but he was running himself ragged for New Yevon and it showed.
"Oh geez, what am I, his mother?" Gippal said, aloud, and then glanced back at the tent to make sure he hadn't spoken too loud. "You just stay asleep," he muttered, despite himself, and then removed himself from the immediate vicinity of the tent to root through the supplies again. Rations, rations, more rations, flares, blankets that they certainly didn't need yet, water bottles that were unfortunately empty...
He stood up, sighing, and straightened up as much as he could, trying to reach behind himself to press the sore, taut spots in his back into submission. Nothing gave. Finally, he gave up and stooped, grabbing a pair of binoculars from the supplies. He climbed quickly up onto the top of a dune, the highest ground available. For a moment he scanned the horizon, biting his lip. For once, it started to look as if there were no fiends.
"Never there when you want them... ah!"
Somewhere over on the horizon, further away from them than even he had pessimistly expected, there was a shimmer of heat and movement. Gippal hoped to god it wasn't a mirage -- the fiends suggested it might be real water, of course, but... He stooped and quickly drew an arrow in the sand, long enough and deep enough that the wind as it was shouldn't erase it. And then he placed his binoculars on the bottom of it. There was no point trying to write a message in the sand or anything like that. Baralai was a smart kind of person, he'd figure it out quickly enough.
Gippal fastened as many of the light, empty bottles to his clothing as he could, and even deigned to find something he could use to cover his head and tuck potions into his pockets. "Should've brought suntan lotion," he muttered to himself as he set out. He glanced back at the bivouac. "I won't be long, 'Lai."
Maybe, he thought, he could even get back before Baralai woke.
---
When Baralai woke, it had become significantly cooler. "I'm not surprised," he said, aloud, expecting Gippal to respond: perhaps he was just outside -- and that would be all to the better, because it would mean he couldn't have done anything embarassing in his sleep, like cuddle up to Gippal or drool on him or something. "But I am pleased. I hope it'll be like this for a while."
There was no response. Frowning, he struggled with his clothes, trying to put a few more of them on first, and then he moved quickly out of the tent and into the surprisingly pleasant evening. The sun was more or less down, though the sand was still radiating heat.
"Gippal?"
Catching sight of pair of binoculars on a sand dune, he went over to it, frowning. There was a line drawn in the sand -- deep enough that the wind hadn't blown it or smudged it much. Bending to pick up the binoculars, frowning, Baralai looked through them. In the distance, he saw something that might have meant water -- a few fiends, perhaps, moving around it, perhaps fighting, and perhaps the faintest glimmer and glint. There was no sign of Gippal.
Something closed tight around Baralai's heart and squeezed. He scrambled down off the sand dune, bending to grab his weapon from somewhere amid the wreckage. The only other things he grabbed were a handful of potions from the supplies and the binoculars.
It was harder to run on the sand than he had expected, he found. On a beach, near the water, the sand is usually packed together by virtue of being sodden, but in the desert the sand was fine and light, shifting under his feet and slipping away before him down the hills, and sometimes his every step would plunge him deep into the sand. Sometimes he had to slow, to keep his footing properly, and then he would always look through the binoculars, anxiously hoping to see Gippal -- even Gippal with his smug smile and mockery might have been welcome right then -- and keeping himself pointed in the right direction. And, sometimes, looking behind him, making sure he could still see the largest part of the wreckage, which still appeared to be gently smouldering.
He wasn't sure how long he went on for. Behind him, the wreckage never really seemed to get further away. He caught no sight of Gippal, and nor did he seem to be getting closer to the hint of water that lay always far ahead of him.
When he saw movement in the middle distance, Baralai gripped his staff tightly. It could be Gippal, he told himself. Then again, it could also be a vicious slavering fiend with sharp teeth and poisonous spit, just come from killing and eating Gippal. The sand shifted beneath his feet as he moved into a more defensive stance. He wondered if he could fight on the sand like this. His usual advantages lay in speed and agility, and --
"Baralai!"
Baralai, for a moment, wasn't sure whether he wanted to hit Gippal, kiss him, or outright kill him. "You should have woken me up," he said, sternly, once he'd recovered himself a bit. "I was -- I thought you might have been killed."
"Oh," Gippal said, suddenly looking contrite. "I thought I'd be able to get there and back before you woke. It was water, so -- it was worth it."
Baralai fought with his conflicting urges for a moment longer, and successfully convinced himself not to go through with any of them. "Did you bring a lot of water back?"
"Enough to carry us over until we move over nearer the water."
Baralai looked back over the way Gippal had come, and swallowed a vague sick, weary feeling. "We have to drag our camp all the way over there?"
"That's better than walking for water every day. Hey, are you okay?"
He wanted to say he was, but the sick, dizzy feeling didn't go away, and he contemplated how long it had been since he'd eaten or drank properly. He didn't even manage to get the word no out his mouth, let alone some assurance that he would be fine in a moment, before the world swam in front of his eyes and he collapsed. Gippal caught him easily -- a fact he was grateful for, dimly: there was enough sand in his mouth already...
"You idiot," Gippal said, lowering him carefully to the ground and fumbling for water, and potions.
---
Baralai woke in the tent. For a moment, he was confused -- he must have dreamed the long expanse of sand, and that long, exhausting walk... but no, he realised. He was fully dressed still, and there was a nasty taste in his mouth: the aftertaste of a potion. He hoped he hadn't made too much of a fool of himself. When he sat up, he found a flask of water next to him -- when he swallowed some, it was surprisingly cool and smooth in his mouth. He'd almost expected it to be full of sand. He listened carefully and heard Gippal moving around outside, and decided it was safe to drink a little more and then lie down and sleep a little more.
He carefully put the cap back on the flask before he lay down, and after that, he knew no more.
---
While Baralai slept, Gippal got to work on making a kind of sled out of the rubbish. He couldn't find enough bits to put a proper engine in it, to his annoyance, but he did manage to rig something that would be easier to pull than it looked. He began to pick through the rubble and wreckage again, picking useful things -- reluctantly not taking any remaining bits of the airship, even out of sentimentality. "We can always salvage the remnants later," he told himself, firmly, and stuck to the bare necessities. Alone, he could pull the sledge. With Baralai's help, he was sure it would be fine. He stowed a few more flasks of water there, ready for the trip across the desert.
"I was picturing carrying it across on our backs," Baralai said, making him jump. There was an interested note in his voice.
"That why you fainted?" Gippal said, teasingly, when he'd recovered from the shock. He grinned. "We're still going to have to drag it. There weren't enough bits or pairs of hands to make it an engine. If I did some digging around here I'd probably find some more bits, but I'd rather not."
"Of course." Baralai crouched down beside the sled, looking at it. "You made this out of the wreckage?"
"Yup. It's fifty percent junk and burned up bits and fifty percent pure genius."
Baralai laughed a little, looking up at him. "Smug as ever, I see."
"Naturally." He grinned. "Expected me to be anything else?"
"No... It could get annoying, though."
"Me? Annoying?"
"Of course not," Baralai said, teasingly. He stood up, and they found themselves rather too close. Gippal imagined he could feel the heat of Baralai's body even through the inches between them. He smiled a bit.
"I -- thank you, for worrying about me. Coming after me like that might've been the saving of me. It was stupid to go off on my own."
"It was stupid of me to follow you," Baralai said, shaking his head. "I don't know the desert as you do, I didn't have any water..."
"Still, you had more sense than most. You might've ended up going round in a circle." Gippal realised that they were getting closer all the time -- magnetism, he thought, thinking of the spark inside. Baralai's eyes dropped.
"I thought you might've -- "
"Died?"
"Yeah," he said, softer. Gippal reached up and cupped Baralai's cheek and kissed him -- eagerly, clumsily, so that they both pulled apart a little to laugh. Baralai put his arms around Gippal, drawing him closer, laughing as they kissed again. "I thought -- when I saw the movement of you coming close, I imagined that, I don't know, that there was a big fiend just coming from killing and eating you -- "
"I'm here," Gippal said, obviously, and he really was, he was entirely there and in the moment and Baralai was in his arms. He kissed him again. "I'm alive."
"Couldn't do this with a ghost," Baralai agreed, laughing a little again.
Neither of them knew who started the quick stumble to their tents, the detour for an extra potion, but both of them went along with it, suddenly wanting it -- needing it. They slipping into the bivouac, shedding clothes and sand, and all the while they kissed, and touched, and held. Gippal pushed Baralai down onto the ground and kissed him all over: first his mouth and then his jaw and then his neck and lower. He kissed his nipple and licked and teased and bit, and Baralai moaned and ran his fingers through Gippal's hair, over the back of his neck, over his shoulders.
"I've wanted you," he said, breathlessly, "for years."
"Could've said something about it," Gippal pointed out, biting at Baralai's nipple again, making his breath catch and a soft noise spill out of his mouth that he certainly didn't intend to make -- didn't know he could make. "I'd've been happy to oblige you with some hot and sweaty alone time."
"I would've preferred something with -- " Baralai broke off, supposedly to moan, but Gippal stopped and looked up at him, fingers moving in restless patterns over his side.
"What would you have preferred?"
"Something with more feeling," Baralai said, after a moment, and the look in his eyes was warm and wanting and he reached up to cup Gippal's face in both hands, pulled him closer and kissed him with all that feeling that he'd knotted up tight somewhere inside. Gippal pressed against him, skin to skin, and it should've been too much heat, he should've wanted to push him away, but he wanted to draw him closer, hold him tighter, until somehow they might meld into one thing, never to be alone again.
"I love you," Gippal said, in something that was more a moan than anything else, and he ran his hands over Baralai's body: restless, possessive, hungry. "You have no idea how often I tried to say it -- it was that stupid stuff with Shuyin, I never thought you'd want -- "
"I do want," Baralai said, kissing Gippal again, pushing his tongue into his mouth for a moment, wrapping around him to hold him tighter. "You've no idea how much I want you." And he shivers, even in the heat, even in that melting pot sharing, at the thought of Shuyin.
Gippal presses harder against him. "It's alright," he said, somehow knowing, "there's only me here with you now."
And the look in Baralai's eyes then was so tender that Gippal closed his eyes and just kissed him, over and over, sweetly and softly and deeply and needily. They pressed closer together, rocking a little, gasping at unexpected pleasure, holding tight and kissing, kissing, kissing again and again.
"I want -- "
"What do you want?"
Baralai ran his fingers through Gippal's hair, pushed up again him, kissing him again and bit at his lip, tugged at it. "I want you inside me," he said, and he found the potion again and pressed it into Gippal's searching hand, and then he was spreading his legs, almost offering himself, and Gippal made a soft noise that was wanting and surrender and pleasure at the thought and the sight.
"I can do that," he said, teasing a little, but his hands weren't quite steady in opening the potion and he spilt a little, and it took him a moment to actually get his fingers coated in the stuff. "God, you make me -- I'm like a teenager with you, you know?"
"Should I be pleased?" Baralai asked, laughing, wrapping his arms around him again -- pushing up, wanting, impatient.
"Smug, maybe," Gippal said, grinning, but he gave Baralai no time for smugness or more banter, reaching down and tracing his entrance with potion slicked fingers -- pushing them in deep, two at once, twisting. Baralai gasped, pushed up, thinking that it should hurt, but the potion tingled against his skin, inside him, and all he could do was shiver, and shiver, and hold onto Gippal, and dig his fingers into his shoulders, wanting an anchor, wanting his warm body pressed close again. "Who'd've thought an airship crash would be a good thing?" Gippal said, watching Baralai shiver and arch under him and wondering if perhaps he could completely shatter his control, make him a thing of passion and wanting, fill him with such hunger that he forgot where all the boundaries were and lost himself in it.
He had, he realised, been wanting to see Baralai like that for years. He twisted his fingers again, watching, leaning down to occupy his mouth with Baralai's body, hungry for him -- kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, his neck, leaving a livid mark on his collarbone where in his robes the collar would be high enough to cover it. Baralai moaned -- writhed under him, pushing up against him.
"More," he said, breathlessly, and Gippal obliged, pushing another finger into him, pushing his fingers in hard and deep and twisting, searching -- Baralai bucked up, a breathless cry on his lips, and he kissed him again -- again and again and again, hungry and eager and needy and wanting. He pressed hard against him, pressed against him so their cocks rubbed together, and he rocked his hips slowly and insistently and tried to keep his own control when even thinking about what he was doing too closely made him want to stop that and just fuck Baralai, make him come screaming and then come inside him so hard the world might move and spin about them for sheer pleasure.
"Want me to fuck you, 'Lai?" Gippal asked, and his voice was low and husky and even that -- hearing the effect he was having on him -- made Baralai shiver.
"Yes," he said, softly, drawing him close again, kissing everywhere he could reach. "Please."
"I do love you," Gippal said, suddenly, and kissed him again, and then he was pulling his fingers out and his cock was pressing up against Baralai's entrance and he thought he was having trouble breathing, but it didn't seem to matter.
"Please," he said, again, and Gippal pushed into him -- slowly, now, so slowly it was frustrating, made him want to grab him and force him to thrust in hard. He just held on, trying to breathe, feeling like he couldn't even though there was no reason why not, and he was trembling and out of control. "Please."
"It's okay," Gippal said, running a hand over his side in an almost soothing movement, rocking his hips in a way that sent tingles through Baralai's spine. He kissed him again, kissed him as deeply as he could, as if he'd never stop, and then he really started to move -- pushing in harder, deeper, making Baralai cry out softly and cling to him, kiss him with real honest to Yevon need. "I'm going to give you everything you want," Gippal said, barely aware of what he was saying, breathing erratically, feeling as if he couldn't get enough of anything -- enough of air, enough of Baralai. "You're so, oh, so tight."
"Driving you crazy, aren't I?" Baralai whispered, with more passion than Gippal expected even given what they were doing. He thought about the old clichés about drowning in a person and thought he knew what they meant.
"You really are," he said, kissing, kissing him, kissing him over and over, again and again, and once more for luck. "I love you."
"I love you too," Baralai said, and he said it so softly it was almost still a whisper. It was like a secret, even though there was no one else to hear -- and it was stupid, but Gippal felt amazed and humbled and so moved by it. He closed his eye, thrusting harder, deeper, listening to Baralai's breathy little cries, cock twitching at every little noise.
"You're amazing," he whispered, thrusting harder and harder, deeper and deeper, pressing close and holding on, holding so tight. "Almost wish we could stay like this forever -- "
Clumsily, he reached between their bodies, wrapped his hand around Baralai's cock and squeezed, started to stroke. Baralai bucked up, squeezing around him, and almost like magic, crazily, impossibly, they were coming at the same time, holding on to each other, and Gippal was sure he must have moaned Baralai's name and yet his own name from Baralai's lips was echoing in his ears.
Baralai's arms wrapped tightly round him, and he drew him close, and just held him, as if he'd never let go.
---
"Well, I suppose the storm was good for something," someone said, wryly, from the door of the tent. Gippal shot into a sitting position, dislodging Baralai. The blurry figure at the door resolved into the distinctive outline of --
"Nooj?"
"Typical. I'm worrying and sending out search parties and the two of you are laying here like this..." Nooj shook his head slightly. "Your pants are somewhere outside. I'm glad we didn't get here earlier. Though, as I was saying, it's a good thing. We've been waiting for you to get together since you first met, and at least now you've done it in a place where no one else has to see or hear."
Baralai made a sleepy noise. Gippal rubbed frantically at his eyes. "Are you sure you're really there?"
"Unfortunately for me. If you'd like to get dressed, there's a hover waiting to take you back to the Al Bhed camp. Paine's with me, too."
"Nhadala's going to be furious," he said, groaning. He blinked again. "If the sight is so displeasing, why are you still there grinning like a pervert, Noojster?"
Nooj snorted and backed out of the entrance, throwing a bundle of clothes into the tent. "Wake Baralai. If we travel soon, we'll avoid the hottest part of the day."