Feather Flight: There Is So Much I Want To Say
(part 8)
An AU Kuja fic, shonen-ai, language
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The coast and its fresh breezes were far behind them now. Kuja couldn’t help but look back as it had disappeared from sight. As strange as it felt to call the little costal village home, it has served him well for the six months he had slept and the shorter time after. The cat-man forced his mind back to the task at hand, mainly attempting to keep on top of his mount and keep the lazy beast from stopping to graze along the side of the rutted highway. The packed dirt road was dusty and uneven but the riding beasts didn’t seem to care they plodded along in a way that felt exorable slow and yet seemed to cover a lot of ground. Every now and again Laro would ride next to him and point out some little animal or landmark. The silver-haired man gritted his teeth against the bone-jarring stride of his mount and looked up at the road ahead. The general was currently riding at the front speaking seriously with one of their escort.
// What was that lieutenant’s name? Muller, Moler. Mahler? No wait, Mahler was a composer… well no, /here/ he’s a nobody, on Gaia he was a composer… //
He glanced behind him where the other two ‘guards’ were riding together. Neither of them was looking at him. It seemed his presence on the journey was to be handled simply by denying his existence. They were hardly worth the trouble of harassing so he slouched lower in his saddle and tried hard not to think of how tired he was.
// I’m going to be beaten to a pulp by the end of this. //
The never ending shift and bump of the ox-like animal beneath him had gone from quaint, to irritating, to painful, and into grueling after the first few hours. With sunset on the way and the promise of a remote inn and another two days in the saddle ahead of him, he could only close his eyes and pray he would still be able to walk later. Endurance was something he was bred for after all.
// This is… if I were submerged in the electrolytic solution
back in the Brambala test facility… it would be just
like that… except without the pauses for meals or rest, and with that cold
bitch Motoko taking notes on my stamina. Wonder where
she is now… Zidane probably rescued her when he
grabbed the others… Precise /perfect/ Motoko… always
loyal, always /efficient/… never a single unauthorized thought /ever/ crossed
her brain I’ll bet; a perfect servant for someone like
Clenching his fists on the reigns of his murg, he tugged it resolutely back in line with Laro’s and hissed at the way his fingers twinged in pain. He had been over eager in remounting at the last break and had accidentally pinched the skin between two of the decorative metal disks strung on the edges of the saddle. The sharp edges had neatly and quite painfully removed a small portion of skin from his palm and two fingers. The cat-man ignored his reigns a moment hoping the animal would take the hint and stay on the road, and tried to wipe some of the dust from the bandage. Laro’s careful wrappings had quickly taken care of his little mishap, but the fingers were still sore and bruised. He ran a finger along the soft cloth bindings and blinked in surprise to note that there was the beginning of a stain forming on the topmost layer. Kuja shrugged, it hadn’t been a large wound, but he hadn’t been babying the hand as he could have been. After a night of rest the small cut would be well sealed over.
“How’s the hand, kitten.”
“Sore. Like the rest of me.”
Laro slowed his animal so he could reach out and claim the damaged limb for a kiss. “Poor little hand.”
“You are incorrigible.” The gesture was far too sweet, almost like something out of a romance. The silvery man shook his head in disgust. He couldn’t help feeling reluctant when he pulled it free of the soldier’s grip.
“And you’re crabby. Tomorrow will be better.”
“Are we still riding?”
“Yes?”
“Then how, pray tell me, will it be better?”
The taller man laughed, his braids shaking with his mirth. “Well the first day is always the worst, isn’t it? After that you get used to the riding again…”
“If you say so…”
Kuja watched his friend with tired jealously as he sat easily in the saddle. For a moment he had a crazy impulse to climb off of his own animal and curl up on the front of Laro’s saddle. It would be hopelessly childish, but looked a hell of a lot more comfortable. His tail was complainingly bitterly of the bruising it was receiving.
// Should’ve pretended to be a girl, then I could ride sidesaddle… and the idiots in the hats behind me would stop giving me death-stares when Laro goes and does something out of ‘Pierson’s Account of Courtly Love’. All I’d need is the frock, and maybe some extra flowers. But then there are hardly any rules of etiquette to detail how a man may seduce his pet genome… frock or no… //
One of the first treasures he had acquired from Gaia and smuggled back to Terra, the old dog-eared little volume of pictures and stories was full of details on how a young lady of means could expect to be wooed by a gentleman of excellent character. The little watercolors always had too many rosy cheeks and be-flowered bowers with benches or swings, but still the idea had captivated him. Admittedly, until now he had always rather seen himself as the dashing prince, but concessions could be allowed.
// And Laro as a damsel on a swing… is just too odd. Even for me. Maybe an amazon… but even then… no… he’s better off as is… //
It was hard to imagine Laro being anything but what he was. The man already had a sort of mythic aura around him. Kuja kicked his tired brain promptly before it started waxing poetic on the soldier’s unique sort of ‘glow.’ Instead he closed his eyes and tried to shut down as much as he could get away with. His friend would just think him tired, which was perfectly correct in its way. The cat-man refused to admit just how much he hurt, however. There were bruises already well established on tail and thighs, and every inch of his spine and neck had been rattled to the point of teeth-grinding pain. It was just the unfamiliarity of the motion, he assured himself. It too would be overcome. Kuja tucked his chin against his chest, relying on his hat to keep the setting sun off his face.
“Almost there, Masa.”
“Good.”
He had no interest in being eloquent. That had been ridden out of him sometime shortly after lunch. The companionable brush of Laro’s knee against his own was something more pleasant to consider and he tried to focus on that for the interminable approach to their evening’s shelter.
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They were all certainly ready for an end to the day as their murgs plodded to a halt in the inn’s small yard. Laro took the opportunity and allowed his reigns to drop, stretching his arms behind him until he felt his shoulders pop and groan. It felt like pure heaven to slip out of the saddle and take another moment to stretch his legs. The placid beast didn’t even blink about being used as a prop. It simply waited until he was done and then followed a stable hand off to be bedded down for the night. The soldier waved his escort on ahead, trusting them to make the necessary arrangements before approaching the last rider still mounted.
“Oi… Masa… you can come down now…”
The slender man blinked at him as if he was awaking from a deep trance. He smiled a little encouragement as the tired eyes finally focused on him, and then beyond to take in the shadowy bulk of the road house. “…We’re… here?”
// He doesn’t look good at all… wonder if they have a bath here… I wonder if I dare trying to take him into one…// Somehow the idea of communal bathing and the potential for rather awkward explanations struck him as a bad idea. Shaking his head, he focused on what was the most important.
“Yes kitten. Here, just get your feet out of the stirrups and I’ll do the rest.” There was no wonder the man was tired. Riding long distance on your first try could be something of an ordeal. Laro winced in memory of some of his own early experiences. After a few fumbling starts, he made sure the cat-man wasn’t tangled on anything and got him down buy the simple expedient of hooking him around the waist and pulling him free. The usually graceful form all but crumpled into his arms. “Woah… come on, stretch a bit or you’ll stiffen into a plank.”
“Ugh.” There were none of the usual snappy comebacks as the silvery youth moved to comply. The aristocratic features were set in unusually grim lines as he methodically stretched each leg and moved to stand on his own.
“Better?”
“No.”
“Want me to carry you?”
“No.”
The soldier only smiled, having fully expected the answer and followed as his lover navigated the field and front door by what could only be pride alone. They would be able to collapse soon enough. The idea of curling around the warmer body and helping to smooth some of the aches away held definite -- if guilty -- appeal.
// Mind out of gutter, general. You know damn well he won’t be in the mood for anything. Hell what is it about spending long days in the saddle or the trenches and then being horny as hell… Your brain is rebelling from the unpleasantness of life, that’s what. //
Nodding to the innkeeper, he managed to overcome his preoccupation long enough to make his few needs known as far as food and wash water. He accepted his key with a grateful smile, and was surprised how much easier it was to put up with being bowed and scraped to when he was dead tired. The dark man turned to the stairs and followed a servant to the third level. Some of the privileges of rank were definitely better than others, and getting the best room in the inn was right at the top of his list.
Somehow he managed to get Masa to sit --more like curl up -- in one of the oversized chairs while he busied himself with the useful chores of unpacking a change of clothes and other essentials. Only when the last of the traffic to the room had ceased, leaving behind some wash water and towels, did he permit himself to really relax. The first day of their little adventure had succeeded with no one discovering anything amiss about his silent friend. What ever they assumed about him and his new steward, they were welcome to assume, especially if let him have some privacy.
“Masa…? Still alive? There’s some food here… not to mention soap and water.” He had been hoping at least the second offering would invigorate his drained companion but the best he got was a weak wave off from the man in the chair. Laro shook his head and let his friend rest for a moment, peeling off his own jacket and shirt. A quick scrub with a damp cloth pulled the worse of the sweat and grime off and left him feeling almost alive as he puttered around the room. The soldier swiped a leg off the cold roast-chicken and gnawed on it as he sorted through the bags for liniment and bandages. “Ok… come on… you’ll feel better once we’ve stuffed you into bed.”
“I know…”
Laro looked up in surprise to see that he wouldn’t have to drag the cat-man out of the chair after all. He was standing of his own accord, leaning heavily against the overstuffed piece of furniture as he weakly tugged at his boots. They fell to the floor with a tired-sounding thud, and were soon followed by hat, belt robe and vest. Not able to help himself, the soldier all but gaped as he was granted a completely impromptu, if exhausted, strip show. Masa really had no body-shyness at all, revealing lightly tanned flesh for inspection by lamplight. His movements were almost like a sleepwalker’s as he padded silently over to the half-full wash basin and dipped his hands. Somehow it was all the more beautiful for its complete lack of seduction.
Noone had /ever/ done something so unintentionally erotic for him in his entire life. The soldier grabbed blindly for his cup of watered wine, making two attempts before he could be certain he had what he wanted. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the slow movements of the washcloth on the other side of the room. The cat-man winced slightly as he shifted the damp cloth from one hand to the other, and something inside Laro snapped. Not entirely sure if he wasn’t about to be clawed to death he found himself crossing the room and claiming the cloth from limp fingers before hesitantly sliding it up and sweeping it across the hard to reach portion of the delicate shoulder blades and spine. To his humbled amazement, Masa arched into the touch.
“…oh sweet heaven…” Exercising willpower he didn’t know he had, the dark man repeated the stroke; this time wiping clean the other slender shoulder. He could feel the gentle tickle of the silvery head coming to rest against his chest as he dipped the cloth again and carefully worked on the limp arm. It was hard to remember to breathe, he found himself holding it in as often as not. The silence seemed part of the spell, necessary, needed. All too soon Masa would shake himself awake and return to his usual prickly defensiveness, or to his deliberate teasing playfulness, and it would be over. Having cleaned everything within easy reach, he took a spine tingling risk and took a moment to shift the bowl and towels to the table. If he had been aroused before, there was no way to describe his happiness at the way his sleepy lover all but curled into his lap when he sat down.
The invitation to touch, to explore, was enough to force him to close his eyes for a minute as he waged silent war with his libido. He contented himself with placing a soft kiss on the closest exposed portion of neck before reaching for the washcloth again. Masa only turned his head closer against his body in what he hoped was silent encouragement. The blue eyes were open only barely. Their color all but lost in the golden flicker of the lamp’s wick. This time he cleaned more carefully, expecting, and finding, the bruises he encountered along the inner thigh and even in spots around the ankles where the gear had banged tender skin one-to-many times.
Finally having no excuse to carry it any further, he ran the damp cloth once more over the tired forehead and forced his clumsy fingers to untie the band at the end of the silky braid. As tight and painful looking as ever, the strict style was doubtless giving the cat-man a headache. Masa’s hair quickly unraveled into a mass of silky waves, all the wilder for it’s enforced imprisonment. Smiling at the softness it seemed to add to the slim man’s features, he tangled his fingers in it. It was a recent but pleasant discovery for the both of them, to learn that the repetitive motion of petting the hair down after having it braided all day was a soothing activity.
// For the best that he likes it really, because I have no idea if I could ever keep myself from doing it. // He felt the cat-man murmur his contentment. The words were more of a feeling of breath on his shoulder than a specific ‘sound.’ It might have qualified as a purr. Even the unusually limp tail rallied for a few brief tickling touches along the leg of his pants.
// Surely the bandage will hold until morning… // There was a definite siren’s call coming from the bed. Guilt was a force not to be reckoned with however, and he bent to his work with a sigh. There was more blood than he had expected on the wrappings. Laro frowned, figuring that his friend had been unlucky enough to cut one of the larger vessels. Hands were tricky like that. Everything had rather stuck together, and rather than risk breaking things open again, he carefully soaked the whole hand in the remains of the wash water hoping to work the cloth free without disturbing any scab that was forming. It was slow and exacting work. If nothing else it /did/ help to put what had been an almost painful pressure in his pants back to sleep. It just went to show that changing bandages was never sexy, no matter who the patient.
“Easy now.” He had almost made it through the whole procedure without Masa being aware of it but one last stubborn portion of the cloth had tugged painfully and caused the silvery man to flinch. Instead of trying to retrieve the damage hand, the cat-man hissed and held his arm out stiffly.
“Finish it.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m fine.” Wide awake, the man held himself perfectly still as the final inch of cloth was untangled from his fingers. Laro dabbed some salve into the cuts, swearing slightly as they began to bleed a little.
“Gah. I should have been more careful.”
“It’s fine.”
Surprisingly, even after he had tied down the last of the new wrappings and cut the excess, Masa remained where he was. The soldier couldn’t tell if his companion was too tired or too comfortable to move. Self-consciously wiping the last of the residue on his fingers off onto his pants, he reached out for a towel to drape over the slender form. It wasn’t a cold night, but there was a breeze. He couldn’t judge the cat-man’s mood and wished dearly that he knew what to say or do next that would let them return to the quiet lassitude of before.
// Or failing that, how to get us from here to the bed without him getting angry with me. //
The fact that he could still see Masa’s silky curves every time he closed his eyes wasn’t helping in the slightest. Laro cleared his throat shakily. “There’s some food… if you’re hungry…”
“Not really… more tired than anything…”
“Let’s get to bed then…” He lifted the slender mass easily for the few steps it took to find the bed. Too tired to care, the soldier decided to let the lamp burn itself out. It was already guttering, so it wouldn’t be long. He sat on the edge of the mattress, making slow work of his own boots while watching in bemused wonder as the towel was discarded and the cat man gingerly crawled into bed.
// It’s a damn good thing that I’m too tired to do anything about that… or all my ‘honorable’ vows are going to go right out the window… //
Discarding his own last vestiges of modesty, he stripped down to the skin and slid between the sheets. There was a moment of fumbling, and another brief hiss as he accidentally pinched the tail with his knee, but soon they were laying together, his larger frame loosely spooned up against Masa’s back. The cat-man had uncurled slightly, allowing himself to be embraced around the waist, his own arms resting lightly on top of the soldier’s larger ones. He had stolen both of the pillows, as he was prone to do, but Laro was content to simple shuffle a little lower in the bed, resting his cheek against the silky smoothness of the pale man’s shoulder. The curl threatened to put one of his arms to sleep, but at least he could pretend that his erection hadn’t returned with a vengeance. For a moment he gave in and laved the nearest shoulder with slow, tasting kisses.
“Laro…?” He caught himself with a wince.
“Sorry… I should let you sleep… long day tomorrow…”
“You…”
“Don’t even say it.”
He received an amused sigh for his efforts. “But how do you know what I was going to say? Goodnight, Laro.”
“Goodnight.” Pressing his face into the soft skin, he surprised himself by falling asleep almost immediately. A ghostly scent of cinnamon tickled his nose.
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Someone was knocking persistently at the door. Kuja groaned and stretched and was immediately sorry that he did.
“Ow…” He vaguely heard the door latch and quiet voices whispering. The idea that there was someone else in the room jarred something loose in the back of his brain. Something important that was on the tip of his tongue…
// Shit, am I… // A hand managed to untangle itself from the sheets to smooth his hair flat while the other tried to verify the location of the end of his tail. Thankfully both seemed well behaved and when he craned his head to investigate the newcomer he was treated to a very /very/ stunned maid. Laro simply winked at him.
// Great, every illiterate in the area will soon know that I’m the great Kai’s… // Several unflattering words fit the bill all too easily. // … funny how men can think of a dozen insulting ways to describe a lover, man or woman… Is that what people will call me ? Do I even care? //
He didn’t. At least for now he didn’t. Waiting for the girl to leave, he stretched again and peered out at the morning. The sunlight was just about at horizontal which meant that most /sane/ people would still be asleep. The cat-man sighed sadly.
// Another day-long orgy of riding. If that’s what it can be called… my tail may never forgive me for this… //
“You have about twenty minutes to get dressed before we’re expected downstairs for breakfast you know…”
“Oh really…?” Kuja stretched again hoping to work some of the exhaustion from his limbs. It didn’t work very well. Mostly he was just sore and bruised, neither of which was improved by the idea of movement. The movement of the cotton cloth on his skin triggered a feeling of déjà vu and he was uncertain for a moment if it was dream or memory. His eyes narrowed as he caught Laro’s guilty blush.
// Memory then. Just what else was I out of it about last night…? // Deciding to play it up for full effect, he rolled on his back and stretched one last time, making sure to catch the soldier’s undivided attention.
“Twenty minutes is more than enough time to finish what you started…”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“No? Then where are my clothes?”
“You left them by the chair.” The braided man was positively flustered, shifting abruptly to deposit a bundle of folded cloth on the end of the bed.
“Spoilsport.”
“Not now, kitten.”
// Ah well… it was good for a laugh. // There was little else to distract him as he slowly sat up and began pulling on his clothes. He felt clumsy and achy and tired.
// I would give anything to climb back in that bed and try this all again tomorrow… // In his befuddled state he didn’t think twice about pushing off the mattress with both hands.
“Ow…” Instead of up, he opted for down, curling around his hand with a hiss.
“Oi, be careful with that. If it breaks open again it may go all day.”
“…too late.” Kuja poked at the spreading stain on the cloth bitterly.
“Idiot. If that gets infected…”
The silver-haired man waved off the fussing and worried the knot out of the bandage with his teeth. Unraveling the cloth, he grimly accepted more of the minty salve before padding and wrapping it again.
// Strange… it looks just as raw as it did yesterday… //
It took only a moment to appraise Laro’s worried glare and bite his tongue.
// It’s just the travel. I’ll baby it today and it’ll be fine. Stupid hand. //
“What? Make yourself useful and find my brush.”
// What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. //
“You ok?”
“Don’t nag, Laro.” Tying the band tightly around his braid and double-checking his tail, he gingerly stood up. “I feel like an old man.” He smirked at his companion and executed an almost wobble-free spin. “But how do I look?”
“Gorgeous.” The soldier was apparently determined not to be embarrassed again, and made quick work of tucking in his shirt and donning the jacket. His usually sharp military image was spoiled somewhat by the dust on the sleeves and back.
“Aren’t you going to dust it off a little?”
“Why bother, it’ll just get muddy again.”
“How true.” He gave the comfortable bed one last mournful glance before gesturing that the tall man should lead the way.
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// He doesn’t look good at all… //
The break for lunch had been as short as possible due to the distance they had to cover to the next stopping place. This time if they were lucky they would hit a town. Laro had teased his tired friend about the likelihood of an in-room tub with only limited success. The cat-man had looked tired when they started out. Now he just looked half-dead. Masa was sitting slouched in his saddle, eyes closed and relying on the animal to pick his way for him. Remarkably, the shaggy murg seemed to cooperate with the idea, rarely straying far from the center of the road. He reached out to gently shake a knee wanting to rouse the man from his doze.
“Masa…?”
“… huh…? Oh, you… what is it, Laro.”
“You need to stop and rest? We don’t /have/ to reach the town you know… there are other places.”
“No… I’m fine… I promised I wouldn’t slow you down.”
“You’re /tired/, kitten…”
“I’m /fine/. I don’t want to stop.” The blue eyes were fierce. Shrugging in surrender, the dark-haired man pulled his hat a little lower and sighed. After a moment of glaring, Masa’s head slumped forwards once again, returning to the half-doze that he had been in all day. Laro reached over with a worried frown and captured the mount’s slack reigns. It wasn’t safe to have the animal completely unguarded. Anything that spooked it could send it and it’s rider off into the hills before he could intervene.
“Come on, brute. You stick next to me.” Looping the second set of reigns over his wrist, he goaded the beasts into a slightly brisker walk. The sooner he got his washed-out looking lover to civilization, the better he’d feel.
// Once we get to the capital he’ll be able to sleep-in to even /his/ heart’s content… in a real bed, with people waiting on him hand and foot… He’ll be fine. //
The general tilted his head back, stretching the knots out of his neck and allowing the sun to dry his forehead. They would push forward, there wasn’t much else they /could/ do.
// There /is/ a war going on after all… Masa’s right. The longer we take, the longer people have to wait. They’ve been waiting far too long already. // The idea of going back to the front still made his palms sweat. Gritting his teeth, he kept his eyes on the road and tried hard not to think about things he could not change.
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“What’s the current setting?”
“One-hundred and twenty-three, sir.” The quiet voice carried no emotion at all as the woman joined her maker in studying the contents of the glass chamber.
Kuja would have spat at the prim genome if he had thought for a moment it would do any good. It wasn’t like he had the energy to spare in any case. The pressure on his limbs and beating against his brain was unbelievable. He couldn’t gage how strong the field was from within it, but it was certainly stronger than it had been in previous weeks. It felt as though his eardrums would burst and the feeling of weight in his limbs would have had him crumpled in the bottom of the cylinder if he wasn’t hanging suspended in the sour tasting gel. Naked, wires taped to any number of uncomfortable places, and wondering how much more he could take before he really did rattle to pieces. He gritted his teeth and swore when he was free the first thing he would do is take Motoko’s precious clipboard and pitch it into the pond before her very eyes.
“
“Shall I increment the field strength, Master Garland?” The silver-haired genome couldn’t make out the words of his two torturers/trainers. But her gesture towards the hated dial was unmistakable.
// Torture in the name of training…? Training in the name of testing? Testing for the sake of science…? Touch that knob one more time you ice-queen, and I will rip your throat out with my teeth… //
“Set it to one-fifty.” When the short scientist hesitated to comply, the bearded-man reached past her to make the adjustment himself. “Kuja can obviously withstand phase distortion more than the others. We need to get an accurate reading on how far his skill extends. After all, where the template fails, the real genome will succeed. We need to know what to expect of our little Zidane when he returns to us.”
The pressure against his skull became unbearable but even with the pain that threatened to haze his vision; he could make out his old nemesis’ cynical smile. Motoko, to her credit was watching the readings from the sensors with some faint hint of concern. It almost looked like she felt something.
// Maybe I… won’t… kill her tomorrow… //
Lifting his arm felt like he was attempting to lift an
airship without the aid of Mist to provide buoyancy. He wonder if the popping
sounds he felt were his joints cracking, or of the bone was actually breaking
under the strain of moving counter to the field direction. Somehow he managed
to fight the pressure and smiled faintly when he could finally rest his fingers
against the cool glass. He had only just sharpened his claws that morning and
they made a marvelously bone-chilling sound as they slid down the smooth
surface with a crystalline shriek. There was only a moment to savor his victory
–seeing
“Has he… ceased?”
“No. No, he is regaining normal functional levels faster than expected. Such stubbornness was not part of the programmed model. Obviously there was a flaw during production. Get one of the drones to clean him up. You and I have work to do.”
“Yes sir.”
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*snaps fingers* well people wanted more spice… or maybe that was just me. *wink* --Lunar