and afterwards, peace
FIC INFORMATION
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
Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Deepthroat, Bozja ending spoilers
Language: English
Published: 08/05/2022
Words: 3,371
Series: Part 6/6
Body Politics, or: Five Points in Time in the Lives of Basch van Gabranth and Sartauvoir quo Soranus
"Sometimes I feel as though this is a dream," Sartauvoir said, happiness soaked into his voice like the warmest of fires. "That any time, we will wake back in Castrum Valnaini, back in the war."Notes
A coda to Body Politics, set after 'fading out, together' - although it's not strictly necessary to have read the whole series first, there are call backs and references to the other fics to enjoy if you so desire~
See the end of the work for more notes
The fire crackled lively in the grate, and Basch couldn't help but smile. He leaned back against Sartauvoir's chest, both of them ensconced on a broad, comfortable sofa strewn with fat cushions and a warm, fluffy blanket. The stone walls of their little cottage held the heat well, and it wasn't as though they could feel the aches of old bones any more, but there was something to be said about being so comfortable anyway, and the pair of them took any opportunity to luxuriate in it.
Sartauvoir's hand slid down the front of Basch's loose shirt and idly caressed his chest and stomach, and the gentle press of fingers against skin sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine.
"Sometimes I feel as though this is a dream," Sartauvoir said, happiness soaked into his voice like the warmest of fires. "That any time, we will wake back in Castrum Valnaini, back in the war."
Basch chuckled, tipping his head backwards enough that he could see Sartauvoir's face from the corner of his eye. "I think we've both more than earned this rest, don't you? In a way, I suppose it is a dream, really. If the dead can dream, anyway. Is there anything about that in all your books?"
Sartauvoir made an amused noise. "No. But then, that was never my area of study. You should be asking Gilbrisbert for that, or Sicinius perhaps."
"Mm." Basch's eyes slid closed as Sartauvoir pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Speaking of which, what news from the land of the living? We're overdue a report by now, surely."
"My Phenix came and went as usual, earlier today - I was waiting to tell you, actually."
"Oh?" Basch turned, moving so that he was sitting cross-legged between Sartauvoir's long legs. "Well, don't keep me in suspense, man! What news?"
"They say that Noah is dead, for a start."
"He can't be, we haven't seen him. He's not here. Is he?"
"Let me finish, if you will." Sartauvoir put a steadying hand on Basch's knee, though, and Basch bit down on his lower lip to stifle the impatience building within him.
"Alright, alright." He settled both hands in his lap, enfolding his fingers together.
"As you say, we haven't seen him here, which stands to reason that the rumours are incorrect. Lyon burned the place to ashes and the body they found was unrecognisable," at this, Sartauvoir smiled thinly, eyes dancing at the thought of that bonfire, "but the most important part being this: the Fourth surrendered, and a peace accord was signed."
"An accord?" Basch looked up sharply, hardly daring to believe what he'd heard.
"Yes, an accord. One of the leaders of the Resistance, I don't think you will know him him - Bajsaljen Ulgasch - he accepted the Fourth's surrender, unconditionally. And, oh-" Sartauvoir paused, as if only just recalling the information. "Oh, Basch, their constitution." He took hold of Basch's hands between both of his own, an honest to goodness smile spreading across his face. "It's everything you wanted for our people."
Basch's heart soared, and he couldn't stop the laugh that burst from his chest. "Tell me everything! Do you still have the scroll? I must know all the details, every last word!"
"Yes, let me go fetch it. I think perhaps this calls for wine, as well, no?"
"Drinking wine together while poring over a report, I couldn't think of a better way to spend the evening." Basch shot a grin at Sartauvoir, then stood and hurried off to the cellar even as Sartauvoir went to retrieve the message scroll from the overflowing rack next to his desk.
The wine cellar was well-stocked, as was only natural for a home dreamed up out of your heart's desires, and there was even a bottle of Valens that they'd been saving for a special occasion. Even though he could simply think about it and more would appear, it still felt like blasphemy to drink such a rare and expensive vintage willy nilly - especially one hailing from a place his own legion had decimated, so many years ago. Leá Monde was no more thanks to their work, but its memory lived on in its famous wines, and if this news was to be believed, then perhaps it could be brought back to life... It was too much to hope for, and Basch clutched the bottle to his chest as he hurried back upstairs to their cosy living room.
Sartauvoir had unrolled the scroll on their large, unfinished wooden table, the corners held down by a matched pair of phoenix paperweights that Basch had conjured up with delight one lazy evening. Two glasses sat to the side, and a host of fat, plush cushions lay on the floor, where Sartauvoir himself lounged.
"Took your time." He pushed the glasses over, and Basch poured them both a goodly quantity of the Valens, then set the bottle aside reverently.
"I was remembering Leá Monde," Basch replied, gazing into the deep red wine, so still and beautiful in the dim firelight.
"Mm, well if it's all the same I'd rather not remember that day." Sartauvoir's long fingers caressed the stem of his wine glass, and Basch knew he'd be thinking about the scars he'd acquired on the day they took Leá Monde.
"Do you think they'll rebuild, now that there's peace?"
"Let me read the scroll first, then we can figure that out, hm?" Sartauvoir smirked at him, and Basch couldn't help but grin back.
He settled himself down onto the pile of cushions, getting comfortable before pulling the wine glass closer. Letting it breathe before taking his first taste, that was the proper way to enjoy a good Valens vintage, and he would give this one the respect it deserved.
"Very well, but get on with it, would you? I'm about to expire from the suspense."
Sartauvoir laughed and rolled his eyes fondly, then leaned forward to bend over the low table, one finger tracing the first sentence of the scroll. "Alright, let's see here. It was some time before the Fourth surrendered, but after Noah's apparent death they handed over their weapons immediately - hardly surprising, considering how well he was loved."
"Was he? Oh, that does me good to hear."
"He did you proud, in all ways, on that you have my word Basch." Sartauvoir met his eyes, and Basch felt a flush of warmth run through his whole body. "He upheld everything you stood for - between him and all the rest of us, we carried on the legacy you entrusted us with. Every one of us." His voice wavered a little, no doubt remembering the battlefield and the sacrifices that had been made for the Gabranths' vision.
Basch reached out and took Sartauvoir's hand, squeezing it gently. "I knew you would," he replied, "I had every faith in you."
Sartauvoir cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a little pink. By all the hells, Basch loved that expression; like a preening bird, but unspeakably shy about it.
"As I was saying," Sartauvoir continued, "by all accounts, out of all our commanders, there's Lyon, Sicinius, and Pagaga too, though Sicinius was turned over to the Resistance. I doubt they could have done anything other, to be honest."
Basch tapped on the corner of the scroll with one finger. "No Menenius?"
"No mention of him, save that the consensus is he died. Perhaps it is the same as with Noah, hm? Subterfuge."
"Do you think Lyon has it in him? Such secrecy?"
"If it came to it, I think he could. If it was for Lanatus and Noah, certainly. Though he would hardly say so, the loyalty was obvious in his every move. Always was."
"Hm, you have a point. Alright, so that's our survivors. What else?"
"I'm getting to it." Sartauvoir leaned forward again, scanning down the rest of the scroll. "The Resistance, though I suppose they're not really the Resistance any more are they? More like the... flames, I don't know. The Dalmascans, once more? So. Their constitution is fair: equality for all, no more class systems. People advancing in society based on merit, not old family blood bought with coin."
"The way we modelled the Fourth," Basch said, quietly.
"Precisely. This Bajsaljen, though I did not personally face him in battle, he seems an honourable sort. And anyone able to see beyond the immediate, to the bigger picture... well, it can only be a good thing for Dalmasca."
"And for our Landis." He ran a finger across the rim of his wine glass, then finally picked it up and took a sip, letting the rich vintage sit in his mouth for a moment. It was warm and strong, yet incredibly mellow with its spices, and it went down delightfully. "Do you think they will begin again, in Leá Monde? It would be a shame to lose that knowledge for good."
"You just want there to be more of this wine." Sartauvoir took a sip of his own, eyes flickering closed as he experienced it. "By the flames though, I can see why. That is good."
"They value it for good reason, aye. This is only the second time I've ever drunk a true Leá Monde Valens; though I believe my family had a few bottles in the wine cellar for some years, I only once had the occasion to taste it - when Noah was born." His eyes softened at the memory, warmth in his gut from more than just the wine. "That feels like a lifetime ago, now."
"Well, it was, technically." Sartauvoir smirked at him over the rim of his glass, and Basch shot him a grin back.
"I suppose you have a point. I do hope he's alright though..."
"I'm sure he will be. They say that Lyon killed him, but I think it's more likely that he framed it to look that way. Towards the end there was... a lot that Noah was not telling us. Even his closest confidantes, I suspect, had no inkling of what he was truly planning. I wouldn't put it past him to organise something like this with Lyon. Pop up later to cause havoc, maybe."
Basch leaned over the scroll and pointed one finger at a line. "The ghost of van Gabranth. I think you're right."
"As long as Noah held out from surrendering, the Fourth would have continued to fight, that much is certain."
"Aye, they would, at that. Perhaps when next you send your Phenex down, you can enquire of Lyon?" He tried not to let the hope show too plain in his voice, but Sartauvoir, of course, was wise to it. He smiled gently at Basch over the rim of his wine glass.
"Of course. And it isn't as though we have to worry about messages being intercepted any more, is it?" The light of the fire at the grate danced in Sartauvoir's eyes, and Basch was overcome with love for this man. He leaned in and cupped his cheek, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed him, long and slow, and tinted with the sultry taste of red.
"What was that for?" Sartauvoir murmured, as they broke apart.
"Do I need a reason to kiss my bondmate?" Basch smiled, dizzy with the heat and the wine, and the feelings dancing in his stomach.
Sartauvoir smiled back against his lips. "I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing you use that word. Bondmate..."
"Good, because I'll certainly never tire of using it."
"And no, you don't need a reason, I suppose. Is there one, though?"
"I'm just grateful. Grateful for this," Basch gestured around at their little cottage, "that we're getting news of our loved ones, that our country is healing, after all our years of hard work."
"You're responsible for that, you know. If it wasn't for your vision and leadership-"
Basch cut him off with another kiss, pushing him backwards onto the pile of cushions as he followed. "If you don't stop that, I'll be getting more of an ego than I already have."
"You like it," Sartauvoir murmured, grinning up at Basch. His hair spread about his head, and Basch couldn't help but bring a hand up to run through it.
"Perhaps I do, perhaps I do..." He nuzzled against Sartauvoir's scar, pressing a kiss to the edge of it, followed by the smallest graze of his teeth. Sartauvoir gasped gratifyingly underneath him, and Basch did it again, his hips moving of their own accord as he lavished attention on his Bondmate.
He could feel clearly the effect such attention was having on Sartauvoir; their cocks stiff beneath their clothes as Basch rolled his hips, and then they were kissing again, hungrily, fervently; Basch's hands all over Sartauvoir, pushing his tunic up and over his head, then trailing hot palms down his chest, pinching and rolling each nipple between his fingers in turn, then bending to take one in his mouth, lapping at it with the flat of his tongue until it stood hard enough that he could suck it between his lips, bite down upon it then lave the hurt with tongue before biting again, hard enough to draw a whimper from Sartauvoir, and a tiny flame that winked into life between his fingers, dancing across them as Basch turned his attentions to the other nipple.
Sartauvoir groaned, arching off the cushions to grind his still-clothed cock against Basch's. "Still you tease me," he gritted out, the words turning to a moan as Basch bit down harder on his nipple.
"You're so much fun to play with," Basch murmured between bites, leaving Sartauvoir's nipples red and hard, toothmarks circling them. He hummed in his throat for a second, considering all the delectable options beneath him, then moved across Sartauvoir's body and up to the area between pec and shoulder, and the large, pitted scar he'd earned there at Leá Monde.
A needy, frustrated whine followed as he dipped his head and nuzzled at the scar, lapping at it with his tongue before breathing hot air across as he kissed the breadth of it. Sartauvoir's hand came up to fist into Basch's mane of hair, but contrary to Basch's expectations, he held him there, seemingly content to let Basch continue in his worship.
Basch felt Sartauvoir's heart thump against his ribs as he moved to kiss the smaller, pitted scars trailing down from the main one like a comet tail, then down the length of Sartauvoir's lean body to the crease of his hip and across his belly, which jumped at his touch, sensitive. He slipped his hands down the edge of Sartauvoir's loose pants, pushing them down over his hips and hard on and helping him wiggle out of them until they joined his tunic in a pile next to their pillow nest.
He sat back up for a moment, hair dishevelled, and took in the sight below him with a slow, lingering look across every ilm. Sartauvoir's cheeks and ears pinked, but he didn't look away, holding Basch's gaze with lidded eyes.
"What are you planning?" Sartauvoir murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
"What if it's a surprise?" Basch licked his lips, gaze dropping down to Sartauvoir's cock then back up again, and Sartauvoir chuckled deep in his chest.
"Hardly a surprise now, is it?" He lifted his hips and rubbed insistently against Basch's still clothed erection.
"Hmph, I suppose not. Well, not to worry." Basch bent and wrapped one hand around Sartauvoir's cock, stroking it loosely and watching with tilted head as the skin moved so prettily, eyes flicking up to take in Sartauvoir's reaction as he arched back into the cushions and bit down on his bottom lip.
Basch licked his own lips again, then trailed them against the underside of Sartauvoir's cock, right where head met shaft, dipping his tongue into that hollow and lapping at it, enjoying the salt taste of him and the way it made saliva flood his mouth in anticipation.
Unable to wait another moment, Basch loosened his lips and took in Sartauvoir's cock, just the head at first, flattening his tongue against the sensitive spot he knew Sartauvoir liked so well and just letting it sit there a moment, feeling the way it twitched against his tongue, the way Sartauvoir's belly and thighs quivered, and even more so when he slid a hand around and palmed his balls, rolling them around and tugging gently at them.
A muffled curse from above, and Basch smiled around Sartauvoir's cock. Without warning, he bent and took the whole length of it in - longer than his own, and a little more slender - 'til the head of it pressed up against the limit of his gag reflex. He breathed through his nose, relaxed, and his eyes fluttered closed as it nudged down further, just breaching his throat.
Sartauvoir's hips rolled upwards, slow and gentle, and his cock pressed in another half ilm to where Basch's saliva was thick and sticky and almost inviting him further, if he'd had any more length to give.
As it was, Basch's hands tightened on his balls, then he slid his fingers down further to rub against that sensitive spot between balls and entrance. He couldn't hold back the groan on the edge of choking as the movement spurred Sartauvoir's hips on, pulling cock from throat for a breath of a moment before pushing it back in again.
Basch felt his head begin to swim, but he ignored it in favour of pushing a finger against Sartauvoir's entrance, making his hips jump again which in turn made Basch near choke. He could feel the spit running down the sides of his mouth, getting his beard gloriously wet, and the thought of how messy and debauched he must look made his eyes flutter closed, unable to focus on anything but the choking fullness in his throat, the way Sartauvoir's cock twitched and pulsed and jumped some more as Basch pushed his finger all the way in and then a second, heading directly for his prostate with unerring aim, and then there were hands in his hair holding him there, fingers tightened and tugging as they held him firm. Two more bucks of Sartauvoir's hips and he was spilling his seed directly into Basch's throat with a muffled cry, body arched over him like a prayer, holding him until the shudders slowed.
Basch's vision whited out, and he sagged forwards.
With a sudden yelp, Sartauvoir released Basch's hair and pulled out of his throat, immediately sitting upright and leaning over him, lifting his head with trembling hands weak from orgasm mingled with fear.
"Basch? Basch, are you alright? By the flames, I'm sorry, I-"
Basch smiled muzzily, blinking up at Sartauvoir's beloved face, writ with worry. "Oh yeah, ‘m good," he murmured, voice thick and raw, "don' worry, love." He reached up and patted the back of Sartauvoir's hand, then wiped his mouth and beard with the back of his own. "That was... mmm."
Sartauvoir laughed, disbelieving. "I thought I'd killed you or something, you wretched man." He laughed again, this time at himself. "Ah. Alright, I see your point. By the flames, I'd forgotten your lusts bordered on the masochistic at times."
"Hardly masochistic," Basch said with a chuckle. He swallowed thickly, savouring the sour-salt taste at the back of his throat. "I like it when you lose control, is all."
That earned him an eyebrow, but Sartauvoir's face softened. "Well I have to admit, you do look quite the sight like this. I only wish my seed was all over your face, instead of down your throat. That would complete the picture." He stroked both thumbs over Basch's cheekbones and down to his thoroughly wet beard.
Basch's eyes widened, and he sucked Sartauvoir's thumb into his mouth, biting down on the pad of it. "Want to know the best thing about being dead?"
"Do I want to know?"
"No refractory period."
Sartauvoir was startled into laughter, the sound ringing like the best kind of music in Basch's ears. Dead or not, this man was his home, and they had the rest of their afterlives to spend together.
