Preface

Your Body is the Answer
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/35829493.

Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
M/M
Fandom:
Final Fantasy XIV
Relationship:
Basch van Gabranth/Sartauvoir quo Soranus
Character:
Basch van Gabranth, Sartauvoir quo Soranus, Noah van Gabranth (Briefly)
Additional Tags:
blowjob, Anal Sex, Transformation, fireplay, Teratophilia, (i guess), Size Kink
Language:
English
Series:
Part 2 of Body Politics, or: Five Points in Time in the Lives of Basch van Gabranth and Sartauvoir quo Soranus
Stats:
Published: 2021-12-20 Words: 4,338 Chapters: 1/1

Your Body is the Answer

Summary

“I do remember promising you some control exercises,” Sartauvoir said, tipping the brim of his hat back to regard Basch, ears still warm and flushed from the memory of that promise, and of their last encounter.

“Aye, that you did. I see that you understood my message, then.” Basch’s eyes lidded and he focused his gaze directly on Sartauvoir’s crotch. “I will admit, I was hoping that it would have that effect on you.”

Sartauvoir huffed out a laugh. “Of course you were. I would never presume to imagine that Legatus Basch van Gabranth did anything without intention.”

Notes

hello it's me again, once again bringing you OLD MEN (to the surprise of absolutely no one)!

for the transformation section, please imagine the big hulking gigantic fire beast he turns into in his duel on the Southern Front, not the Dalriada Lugus-esque form. :3c

Your Body is the Answer

Sartauvoir straightened under the unseasonably hot sun, hands folded in the small of his back against the sturdy weight of his staff. He smiled to himself, well pleased that, once again, his choice of attire kept him safe from the unrelenting sun of Bozja. The Inferno he may be, but sunburn was far from the type of heat that he gloried in, and he was having none of it.

The rough tramp of armoured boots on sandy floor brought his attention back and he firmed up his stance once more, eyes forward and steadfastly not following the Legatus’ every step.

Basch, followed closely by Noah, came to a halt in the middle of their arrayed ranks and turned to them, gaze sweeping over each row of men with something approaching pleasure hovering on his lips. They may be a motley assortment of a Legion, but despite their disparate squadrons and lack of general coherence, they still turned out when their beloved Legatus called for an inspection.

Sartauvoir stood in the first row, dead centre, and he allowed his eyes to glaze over to stop himself from making unseemly eye contact with the Legatus. Perhaps some of the Legion were aware of their few dalliances by now, but they both would prefer that as few as possible knew the full extent of their relationship.

Not that you could really call three fucks a ‘relationship’ - Basch had never said as much, and for that matter neither had Sartauvoir. They sparred, they fucked, they departed, and it was good. Nothing more needed to be said.

But there really was something about the Legatus that fascinated Sartauvoir. He had an undeniably charismatic way about him that made all of his men near blindly loyal, Sartauvoir himself included, of course. Though his words on that day had been simple, the heartfelt way Basch had explained his plans to Sartauvoir had swayed something in his heart - enough to make him finally acquiesce to joining the IVth - something that none of the others who’d tried had managed.

His thoughts were rapidly jerked back to the present by the sound of Noah’s voice, raised enough that even the ranks at the back of the parade ground would be able to hear him clearly.

“Attention!”

The Legion came to attention, one hand across their bodies in a salute - though some among the IVth, Basch’s most loyal, had taken to altering that very salute slightly - the fist clenched over the heart instead of the shoulder; a modification that Sartauvoir had also affected.

Basch turned to the side and began a slow stroll down the first rank, both hands clasped behind his back as he glanced appraisingly at each legionary in turn from the corner of his eye. “You all know why we’re here,” he began, voice mild but carrying, “and well do I know that inspection days are no-one’s favourite way to spend a morning, but unfortunately we must persevere. There is to be a visit by our superiors in two days time, come to see for themselves that we are upholding the good name of Garlemald.” He paused, a half smile hovering on his lips as he turned and paced slowly back down the line. “Of course, I have every faith that you will not let me down, not a one of you. Though our superiors might harbour their doubts about the efficacy of a legion so filled with foreigners, we will show them that they have nothing to fear!”

Reaching the end of the line, Basch turned smartly and returned to his place in the centre.

Sartauvoir shifted minutely as Basch settled into his position, keeping his own gaze level and straight out in front of him, eyes fixed to a point above the Legatus’ shoulder.

“Though I do have but one request, if you would all entertain me for a moment.” Basch’s eyes roved over the arrayed ranks, smile spreading as he took in those who stood with fists at their hearts. “You all know how much I appreciate your loyalty, but for the duration of the visit, I ask that you keep to the regulation Imperial salute, no matter who is present. The eyes of the Emperor are ever watching, and we know not who may take offence at this deviation from protocol.” His eyes twinkled, and the warmth of his regard settled upon Sartauvoir. “That is all. As you were, soldiers.”

Sartauvoir’s heart jumped, and his eyes snapped to meet Basch’s as blood shot directly to his crotch in a tingling rush. Not for the first time, he was beyond thankful that he wore loose trousers and a long robe, and he would be willing to swear that Basch knew exactly what he was doing, the wretch. Sartauvoir dug his fingernails into his palms and focused on his breathing, and absolutely not on the thought of flames dancing over his damnable Legatus’ hand, or what he sounded like when he spent himself inside Sartauvoir’s ars- no! No. Not now.

Basch twitched one eyebrow minutely at Sartauvoir, then turned to leave, allowing Noah to see to dismissing the ranks and setting them to straightening up their barracks in time for the Imperial visit.

The time it took for the whole legion to be assigned their various assigned duties seemed to take an age, and Sartauvoir was full glad that he was in the first row when it came to dismissing them. He fled the parade ground with as much haste as he dared, making a beeline directly for the training room that Basch regularly staked out for his own private exercises.

Shortly after their first encounter, Basch had let it be known that he wanted a time of focus on his martial skills, and that he would be using this particular room exclusively - if the light upon the door were red, it meant that he was occupied and not to be disturbed for any reason. The young Noah was taking over more and more responsibilities within the Legion, and Basch felt secure enough leaving the major day to day tasks to his expertise.

Which of course left plenty of time for him to indulge their trysts. Sartauvoir smiled to himself as he hurried through the corridors, remembering the last - Basch had pressed him against the wall, one hand at the back of his neck as he fingered him open, hitting Sartauvoir’s prostate with every thrust and rub until he was coming against the wall just from that. His ears flushed and his body warmed pleasantly in anticipation, and then he was outside the door.

Two raps with his knuckles and it slid open to reveal Basch, one hand on his hip and the other up against the door frame. His gaze slid up Sartauvoir’s body from his boots to the tip of his hat, then he stepped aside to usher him in.

“The light, if you would.”

Sartauvoir flipped the switch and the door slid closed behind him, a little ‘beep’ telling them that the red light had activated. One hand went to his back, stroking the staff sheathed there and then pulling it out with a flourish.

“I do remember promising you some control exercises,” Sartauvoir said, tipping the brim of his hat back to regard Basch, ears still warm and flushed from the memory of that promise, and of their last encounter.

“Aye, that you did. I see that you understood my message, then.” Basch’s eyes lidded and he focused his gaze directly on Sartauvoir’s crotch. “I will admit, I was hoping that it would have that effect on you.”

Sartauvoir huffed out a laugh. “Of course you were. I would never presume to imagine that Legatus Basch van Gabranth did anything without intention.”

“You’d be right on that front.” Basch’s hands dropped to the swords at his hips. “Now, I believe this demonstration will not require my blades, am I correct?”

“Aye.”

“Very well.” He pulled them from their sheathes with a flourish, then went to the wall and hung them upon two of the pegs there. After a pause, he also shrugged out of his long coat and unwound the creamy scarf from his neck, hanging them up next to his swords.

Sartauvoir found his eyes drawn to Basch’s body, and he realised that he’d never seen the man without the long greatcoat he wore, or the more formal dress uniform required for Imperial visits. Underneath it, he wore a grey tank top that revealed his arms, all ropey, gently bulging muscle. The veins on his forearm moved as he loosened the turtleneck tank a little, and Sartauvoir could not look away.

Basch noticed, and gave him a lopsided smile. “Like what you see, Sartauvoir? Maybe I should request that you also remove some of your clothes, hm? It would be interesting to see what lays underneath that robe and hat. Level the playing field, somewhat.”

“Oh, uh-” Sartauvoir coughed and dragged his eyes from cataloguing the ways Basch’s forearms looked against his fingerless gloves, the contrast of the dark grey fabric and his strong, lovely wrists. “I… I would rather not. The hat, at least.” He cleared his throat again and touched the fabric eyepatch unconsciously. “I do not have another eyepatch with me, and I-”

With two strides, Basch closed the distance between them and reached up, fingers grazing Sartauvoir’s before he moved to brush the hair out of his other eye. “Do you think I care what lies underneath all this?” he demanded, eyes narrowed. “You think me so shallow?”

“What? No!” Sartauvoir spluttered, cheeks heating at the thought. “No, it’s just- I’ve never- Ugh! Can we just leave it, please? Please, Basch?”

Basch sighed softly, but he removed his hand and settled it on the fur at Sartauvoir’s collar instead. “As you wish. One day, I hope that you can trust me enough to let me see you. I am not afraid of what I might see, underneath all your trappings, and I would never - never, you hear me? - wish to make you feel inadequate or whatever other emotions you may be feeling.”

Sartauvoir mirrored Basch’s sigh and shook his head. “I know.” He rested his own hand atop Basch’s and gave it a squeeze. “Would you like me to begin?” It was an obvious subject change, but to Sartauvoir’s relief Basch took it.

“Yes, do. I will admit, I have been looking forward to this.” Basch’s eyes lit and he took a step back, settling into parade rest automatically with both hands clasped behind his back. “You’ve suggested transformation, yes? And I’m sure I’ve seen some glimpses of that one or two times before, on the battlefield.”

Sartauvoir smiled, ferocious. “Aye, although ‘tis not often I find a foe worthy enough to deserve that fight.”

“And I am that foe?”

“Your skill is… on a different level to my own. We’ve sparred enough times now that this much is obvious to me. And not just from comparing a mage-knight to a more martial knight such as yourself.” Sartauvoir unsheathed his staff and wove it between them in sinuous shapes, limbering up.

“Well, I do have age on my side.” Basch tipped his head back and eyed the staff, tracking its every motion. “And being a specialist in one technique allows you to excel in that one, rather than spreading out your skills to become a jack-of-all.”

Sartauvoir snorted. “Are you suggesting I am a jack-of-all, then?” He brought his arm up, still moving the staff, and then cast it out behind him, drawing flame in its wake. The other hand clutched at the air, teasing at the flames until they became an inferno, wrapping around him like an embrace until he grew taller and taller, flesh becoming flame.

Basch’s eyes widened as he looked up at Sartauvoir, glowing near incandescent above him. “I would never suggest such a thing,” he ventured finally, swallowing hard as his eyes roved over Sartauvoir’s body.

A shiver went through Sartauvoir and he suddenly felt… exposed, somehow, though his flames cloaked him in their soothing mantle. His went to his knees, bringing his head to around Basch’s level. “Like what you see, Basch?”

“Very much, aye.” Basch reached out, unafraid, and ran one fingertip down Sartauvoir’s jawline, tracing the sigil-shapes there. “‘Tis as before - warm, but not burning.” He grew bolder, placing his palm against Sartauvoir’s cheek, then moving in close to take his mouth in a kiss.

And oh, but kissing in this form was a novel experience. Sartauvoir tucked away his control of the flames in a safe place, locking it down tightly as Basch deepened the kiss - he was eager, making little noises into Sartauvoir’s mouth, and it was the work of seconds for Sartauvoir to pull him in closer, wrap both large arms around him as he lost himself in the kiss.

When they broke apart, Basch leaned his forehead against Sartauvoir’s, breathing coming hard as he looked into his eyes. “Are you able to undress me without burning my clothes? I’m quite attached to these trousers…”

Sartauvoir rumbled out a laugh, voice deeper and more resonant, and Basch shivered at the sound of it. As an answer, Sartauvoir slipped both hands between them and delicately unfastened Basch’s trousers, tugging them down as far as they’d go with a fluid movement. “You’ll need to remove those first,” he said, gesturing at Basch’s armoured boots. “Hard to get your trousers off with them on.”

Basch made a frustrated noise, but he bent to it with a will, removing both boots and trousers and kicking them aside with an impatient foot.

“Still got your drawers on.” Sartauvoir pushed a finger down the waistband and tugged, allowing his hand to heat a little more.

“Do something about it, then,” Basch demanded, near-glaring down at the top of Sartauvoir’s bowed, flaming head. His hard-on tented his underwear, a little wetness at the top, and Sartauvoir bared his teeth in a grin.

“Ah, you do enjoy this form, I see. How do you like the heat?”

Basch just groaned, and Sartauvoir took that as approval, pulling down his underwear and freeing Basch’s straining cock. It was the first time he’d got a proper look, and he savoured it, cradling his palm underneath and adding another lick of fire that made Basch hiss and bite down on his bottom lip.

“That’s- that’s good,” Basch managed, and then the words cut off with another groan as Sartauvoir tightened his fingers and pumped his cock a few times. 

Sartauvoir had a good idea of what it would feel like, having tried it on himself more than once - there was something erotic about having such lethal heat against his skin, and even moreso with the added effort of keeping the flames under control. It drew a fine line in his concentration, balancing control with pleasure, and adding a frisson of danger that made him shiver just as much as Basch did under his touch.

Sartauvoir slid his hand down and weighed Basch’s balls, rolling them across his palm and squeezing gently before moving further down again to circle his entrance.

“There’s no need for preparation,” Basch gasped, hips jerking at Sartauvoir’s touch, “I made my plans earlier this morning. You will find me quite ready for you.”

That stopped Sartauvoir in his tracks, and he pulled back enough that he could look down into Basch’s face, to see the lust writ plain there. “Very well,” he managed, voice hoarse. He licked his lips and looked around the room, contemplating. “How do you want me?”

“Right where you are. Just spread your legs a little, that’s it.” Basch slipped into his natural authoritative tone and Sartauvoir was helpless to resist; that steel in his voice always went straight to his cock, and this was no exception as it slid out of his sheath, ready and heavy and dripping, even as licks of flame chased the length of it.

Sartauvoir opened his arms for Basch, who stepped in close between Sartauvoir’s thighs and went to his knees with a soft exhalation as they thudded to the floor. He bent to Sartauvoir’s cock, wrapping one hand about the base and using the other to trace a line to the tip, where he pressed a finger into the slit. Sartauvoir couldn’t hold back the gasp at that, hips jerking.

“It’s as warm as I expected,” Basch murmured, then ducked his head and nuzzled at the tip, dragging his lips over it. A trail of saliva followed,  sizzling as it made contact, then Basch took the head into his mouth. Sartauvoir could feel his jaw relax as he took more, and he canted his hips upwards, pushing further into that hot wetness. The scrape of teeth against the underside of his cock had him gasping again, one hand scrabbling for Basch’s head, fingers longing to tangle in his hair, hold him in place as Sartauvoir fucked his throat.

A noise in the back of Basch’s throat, then he pulled off, lips shining wet and red. “I’ve craved this ever since your first mention,” he said, voice ragged. “Stay there, soldier.” He got to his feet, turned away from Sartauvoir and leaned against his chest, as though gathering his courage, then lowered himself into a near-squat.

Sartauvoir felt the head of his cock settle against Basch’s arse, and he wrapped both arms around him as Basch’s hand went down between them, guiding the head in. Sartauvoir growled and ducked his head, mouthing at Basch’s shoulder as he wiggled his hips, rocking and rocking until Sartauvoir’s cock pressed deeper inside, ilm by inexorable ilm.

Basch’s head fell back against Sartauvoir and he just held there, breathing long and deep. “That,” he managed, eventually, “is bigger than I expected. Hells, Sartauvoir.”

“I could- I could say the same to you,” Sartauvoir gasped into Basch’s shoulder. The scent of blood hit him, and he realised that it was his teeth doing the damage, but before he could apologise or move, Basch reached up and clasped the back of his head, holding him firmly in place.

“Yes,” he said, simply, and Sartauvoir took it for the permission it was and sunk his teeth in again, right at the moment Basch started to move. His thighs flexed and tensed as he moved his hips, rocking ilms up and then back down again to the base with a breathy groan every time.

“How’s that… control of yours Sartauvoir?”

Sartauvoir groaned into Basch’s shoulder, lapping at the blood he’d drawn as Basch rode him harder. “Managing,” he panted. His hips rocked with Basch’s movements, driving him in deep and then pulling out a little, even as he screwed his eyes closed, keeping laser focused on the fine line he trod: his mind tense, fire wrapped about him and kept in check like a coiled whip, ready to strike at any moment if he so wished it.

“Hell, you feel so hot… hotter than I dared hope…”

He caught the hint of longing in Basch’s voice and smiled, feral. “I didn’t know the depth of your desire, Basch.” Sartauvoir’s voice was all fire and honey, and he allowed just a trickle of power to join the conflagration. The reaction was instantaneous: Basch’s back arched, and he would have fallen forward if it wasn’t for Sartauvoir’s arms holding him steady, keeping him seated all the way deep as his cock heated inside Basch.

One of Sartauvoir’s hands trailed fire down Basch’s stomach, pushing through his pubes to take hold of his cock, while he leaned back, the other taking Basch’s hip and separating them enough that he could see where they joined; his cock near glowing, now, the way it stretched Basch’s arse sent a shiver down Sartauvoir’s spine.

“Enjoying the view?” Basch panted, looking back over his shoulder to grin at Sartauvoir. His cheeks were ruddy with the heat, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he raised himself up further this time, right to the tip of Sartauvoir’s cock, holding his position there for a moment that felt like a lifetime before Sartauvoir dug his claws into Basch’s waist and bent him forward more, then slid back inside him slow, oh so slow, with another trickle of heat that had Basch hanging his head, hands digging into his thighs as he adjusted.

“You look so good,” Sartauvoir growled, “with my cock inside you like this. How much more heat can you take, I wonder? I have all the control in the world, but can you handle it?” He heated the hand at Basch’s cock some more then began to jerk him off as he rocked his hips, the other hand holding Basch right where he was as though he were just a warm body there for his gratification.

Basch had no more words, just little panted, raw sounds, thighs trembling as Sartauvoir fucked him slow; overheated cock sliding in and out in time with overheated hand stroking Basch until he came undone, body jerking and hair plastered to his face with sweat. His come sizzled against Sartauvoir’s hand as he wrung it from him, pace still unrelenting.

“H-hold onto me,” Sartauvoir gasped. He tightened his hold upon the flames, eyes flickering shut. He had just enough brainpower left over to register Basch’s hands gripping onto his wrists and then he was emptying himself with a hoarse roar, teeth biting down onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he focused every last scrap of control into not setting Basch alight. 

The air shimmered around them both, wrapping them in a pleasant cocoon of warmth and intimacy as Sartauvoir relaxed his hands from Basch’s hip and cock. His eyes widened at the blood he’d drawn, though the wounds had cauterised from the heat of them.

“I can almost hear you worrying,” Basch said, voice slurred with satisfaction. He shifted enough that Sartauvoir’s cock slid out of his arse, then settled back down against his chest, boneless. “Do not forget, Sartauvoir, I asked for this. Nay, I demanded it of you. And if I gain some interesting new scars from the experience, then all the better.” He patted Sartauvoir’s hand, then twisted around to straddle him, twining both arms about his huge neck as he bent for a kiss.

Sartauvoir smiled into it, realising that Basch was effectively silencing his protestations, but unable to bring himself to care. Utterly spent, he became vaguely aware of himself shrinking back down in size as he allowed the transformation to unravel.

Basch made a pleased sound against his lips and kissed him again, sloppy with lips and tongue and teeth.

When they broke apart, Sartauvoir suddenly felt the strain of his lower back from holding them both upright. “I hope you don’t want to do that again any time soon. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” He shifted against Basch’s weight, trying to find a comfortable position on the floor and utterly failing.

“You’re not the only one.” Basch rose from Sartauvoir’s lap with a pained wince. “Oh, I am going to be feeling that for days.” He looked down at Sartauvoir, clothed again as though nothing had happened, and held out a hand to pull him up. “Now it’s my turn to demand again - towel please, before your seed gets any further down my leg. It may have been nearly scalding going in, but I can guarantee you, it’s not any more.”

Sartauvoir flushed to the tips of his ears, looking anywhere but at Basch’s face as he took his hand and pulled himself up. His clothes were unsinged, as usual, but there was the distinct scent of smoke and ash on the air that always followed his transformations. The well-stocked towel rail yielded its bounty, and he gripped it sheepishly.

“Sartauvoir.” Basch’s tone turned stern, and Sartauvoir found himself coming to attention unconsciously, his dick giving an interested little twitch like it hadn’t just fucked his superior within an inch of his life. “ Enough. Come out of your brain and into the moment. I did not say it was a bad thing, so cease this worry.” He took the towel and cleaned himself off briskly, huffing out a startled laugh at the sheer volume he had to sop up.

“I-” Sartauvoir sighed, then began again, furiously tamping down the many and varying anxieties warring within himself. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” His voice was soft, and he closed the distance between them, turning Basch with a sure hand and taking over the cleaning. “It was not too much, then?”

Basch laughed, louder this time. “No, it certainly was not. I never knew I could crave something so much, but I fear I may not let you rest too long before I’ll be back for more.”

Sartauvoir’s eyes widened, and he glanced up at Basch from under his hat as he finished cleaning him up, holding his gaze with intensity. “I enjoyed it too. Very much… I knew I could do it, hold onto the flames I mean, but to the point of orgasm? Mm, I surprised myself.” His tongue flicked out, chasing the taste of blood from his savaged bottom lip. “And it was hot, you say? The seed?”

“Yes, very. It always feels hot, to be fucked, but it was… hm, intense. Much more intense.” Basch went to his tiptoes as Sartauvoir straightened up, one hand at the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. He sighed against Sartauvoir’s lips, a shiver running through his whole body. “So big…” he murmured, lips curled in a smile. “I do believe you’ve ruined me for all others.”

Sartauvoir spluttered. “Even myself, untransformed?”

“Mm, alright, I suppose I can make a concession. Since it’s you.”

The words warmed Sartauvoir through more than any flames could, and he wrapped both arms around Basch tightly, filled with the sudden, desperate need to never let him go. Oh, by the flames of Mannatheihwo, he was fucked wasn’t he?

Afterword

End Notes

i did want to do some screenshots to go with this fic, but i could not for the life in me find the model for Sartauvoir's transformed form in his Southern Front duel, so heyho. if anyone knows the name of that beastie pls to be letting me know cos i got THE BRAINWORMS (by which i mean, it has to be another model somewhere else in game, like his Dal form, but gods be damned i cannot remember where it might be)

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