Disclaimer: Most of the characters represented here are property of SquareEnix. I'm just borrowing them for a little while to appease the muses who have taken me hostage. This story is homo-erotic in nature: if you're not a fan of yaoi/slash or you're too young to read this, turn back before it's too late.

---

Two weeks passed after the azure-haired youth's arrival. Only a few days after he left the Airyglyph capital, he ventured out into the unwelcoming weather and made his way to visit one of his other friends: Nel Zelphyr.

By the look of things, Fayt's visit to Aquios did not go well at all. His eyes were reddened now, as though he'd been crying for a number of forgotten hours. Even at the dinner table, which had been set by Albel's servant, the young man said almost nothing and ate less.

Afterwards, the commander of the Black Brigade had not expected the younger man to pour himself a generous helping of his strongest wine. Albel looked up from the book he'd been perusing and frowned. This was not like Fayt at all and he didn't approve when people around him became unpredictable.

"Not that I give a damn, but did something happen?"

Fayt didn't even look back at the older warrior when he spoke. "Nel's dying."

This did raise an eyebrow from Albel. The Aquarian agent was not someone who could be laid low easily. "What happened to her?"

"Apparently she picked up a sickness in the Kirlsa Mines when we were copper hunting," Fayt informed him. Finally, he turned back around, showing the other man the twin trails of tears that coursed over each cheek.

"By your reaction, this is no ordinary sickness." Albel rose and approached the younger man. In truth, he did respect Nel Zelphyr and her dedication to her own country. Not that he would leak this to Fayt.

"No. It's a disease. One that can only be treated by a rare flower that grows on the highest mountain peaks in Airyglyph."

Albel knew exactly what Fayt spoke of. That flower was rare indeed. "You're talking about the Eye of Apris. It's believed that they're extinct now."

In a rush, the young man gripped Albel's shoulder. "I have to find that flower! I can't just let her die!"

"You could search for years and never even find a dead bloom of that plant. The ones that could be reached easily were already destroyed by those who abandoned the god."

Albel turned away, taking a few steps back to his chair and then stopped. "Although… there is one mountain peak that might not have been defiled. If they exist anywhere, that would be the place to look."

Fayt was on that opening in an instant. "Where?"

"It's impossible to reach," Albel countered, shaking his head. "Only the largest dragons have the strength to reach the top."

"I'll ask Crossell to take me."

That drew a snort from Albel who sat back down in his favored chair. "He'll refuse. He's already said that his servitude to us is over. Likely, he'd immolate you where you stood."

"But I have to try," Fayt began, only to be cut off by a hiss from the swordsman.

"He'll refuse and kill you. If you're so desperate to find this flower, I know a better way that won't get you killed outright."

The younger man looked hopeful as he gazed over at Albel. "How?"

"You'll owe me for this one," Albel said lowly, picking up his book again.

"Please, Albel," he was implored, the youth rushing to his side and kneeling. "I'll do anything!"

To see the young man who had defeated him in battle like this disgusted and disturbed the commander. He sighed at last and turned his scarlet gaze on the youth. "Generations ago, the Nox family entered into a pact with one of the dragon-lords. In return for arranging it so that one of their females would become Crossell's mate, draconian honor dictates that they aid all members of the Nox family as needed."

Albel sighed again. "I'll take you to see Lyvithia tomorrow. If she agrees, you'll get your chance to find that damnable flower."

---

"Lyvithia," Albel said from the mouth of the gigantic cavern in which he stood. He saw movement at the back of the chamber, a great shifting of stronger than steel muscles, then the dragon's head came into view.

"Young Lord Nox," came a decidedly feminine voice, the volume far softer than most dragons used. "What brings you here? I've not seen you since your father died."

Steeling himself and forcing his body to move into the cave, the swordsman indicated that Fayt should follow. "I want you to listen to his request."

"Very well," Lyvithia said before shifting her massive bulk around to face the pair.

Quietly, Fayt spoke to the Marquisa, pouring out the story of Nel's current predicament. He gave all the details he'd been told by the healers of Aquios and recounted what he'd been told of their attempts to find the cure. The young man even went so far as to tell the female drake what kind of death lay in store for Nel in the not too distant future.

By the time he was done, Albel noticed that more tears had started pouring from the younger man's eyes.

It was with a sad tone to her voice that the she-dragon addressed the boy afterwards. "I'm sorry, young Fayt, but I can do nothing for you. My clutch is too close to hatching and, with Crossell handling affairs between our kinds, I can not leave them unattended."

"I commanded you-" Albel began angrily.

"To listen to his request," Lyvithia finished, her wise gaze shifting, "which I have done. The pact between us is for the Nox family alone. The boy is an outsider, therefore I'm not bound by my honor to serve him in any way. My clutch takes priority, young lord."

"Fine then," the swordsman countered, "take me to the mountain top."

She shook her head in answer. "That won't do. The boy has already pleaded his case, so I would not be doing this for you, but him. Not since before your grandfather has any member of the Nox family been a middle-man."

"Damn you, Lyvithia…"

"Don't snarl at me, Albel. The boy is neither an heir nor a consort. He has no ties to your family at all." The dragon's voice became more gentle. "I'm truly sorry, Albel… but I must abide by the pact."

"Who said he wasn't my consort?" Albel asked, looking Lyvithia right in the eyes.

"He may or may not," came her deft verbal counter, "but he is neither official nor just a passing fancy. You haven't made him yours, in any case. I applaud your clever and quick thinking. Had I been one of your kind, I might have been taken in."

The she-dragon watched Fayt walk out of her cavern before letting her kind eyes move to the young lord as he too was departing. "Albel?"

Pausing in mid-stride, the swordsman looked at the drake over his shoulder, waiting. He didn't dare speak because he knew his temper was about to explode and that wouldn't help the situation. He wouldn't be able to get Fayt what he needed if his anger alienated the draconic Marquisa.

"If the boy returns here with your scent strongly mixed amidst his, then I won't be able to deny a claim that he is your consort."

Albel turned fully, too shocked by what she said to remember his anger. "But, that would-"

"I don't need an official decree," she continued gently, "all I need is to know that you've made him yours… even if it's just for one night. I'm willing to bend the stipulations of the pact so that the boy is not bound permanently."

"Lyvithia?"

The great dragon sighed. "Please understand, Albel. As his mate, Crossell puts heavy restrictions on me. Helping the boy would give me a chance to stretch my wings and have a few moments of freedom… but, Crossell would not allow me to do so unless its in accordance to the pact I made with your great-grandfather. Not even the Marquise of dragons would interfere with Draconian Honor."

"So, he keeps you prisoner here?" The question came as Albel took several steps towards the female dragon. "Is that your only purpose to him? To be weighed down with his eggs when you're in season?"

Head cast down, her voice was unwavering but still heavy with melancholy. "I am his mate… as per the arrangements with my father."

"That poses a problem, doesn't it?" Albel said nonchalantly. "Especially considering I may have need of you when spring arrives. Once this clutch hatched, I was going to have you move to the Kirlsa mines…"

Lyvithia almost seemed to smile at the words. "We can discuss that, young lord, upon your return after you make the boy yours."

Albel left the cavern in a much better mood, though pensive. He stepped outside into the sunlight, drawing in a breath of fresh air, and then blinked when he heard an enraged roar from further down the path. Looking in that direction, the commander saw the younger man exhibiting an uncharacteristic display of anger. This just wouldn't do, he decided as he started walking down to the road. It was embarrassing.

"I can't believe I'm the one to say this," Albel began as he watched the teen in the midst of his temper-tantrum. "But kicking rocks, throwing your sword, and screaming at the top of your lungs isn't going to get you to that mountain crest."

Fayt whirled around, his breathing rapid from the wave of despaired anger washing through him. "You heard her, Albel! I'm not a member of your family so she won't help."

"I heard her far better than you did, idiot," came the terse reply. "There is a way around this… but it depends on you."

The boy stopped in mid-kick of another rock, momentarily startled from his rage. "What do you mean?"

"How much does that Aquarian woman mean to you? What would you give in order to save her?"

"Anything! Even my own life if I had to! Nel saved Cliff and I when we first got to Elicoor." Fayt rushed Albel, his face only inches from the swordsman's. "Why? What did she tell you?"

"Moron. You answered my question. If you mean what you just said then you've got nothing to worry about. We'll be able to reach the mountain top tomorrow." Albel pulled away from Fayt and continued walking to where the Dragon Brigade soldiers were. "We'll return tomorrow and she'll take you up with her."

"What did she SAY, Albel?"

The swordsman turned his head, giving the youth a look that cautioned immediate silence. "It's not a discussion to be had here. We'll continue this conversation at my home."

---

"Do you know what a 'shield-mate' is, Fayt?"

"A what?" The teen, for all his intelligence, had apparently never become familiar with the term.

Albel poured two goblets of his strongest wine, handing one to the youth before settling in his most comfortable chair. "It's a military term. I'm sure you've noticed the distinct lack of females in Airyglyph's army."

"Uh… yeah."

"Soldiers are just men and men have certain needs. Sometimes, they'll fulfill those needs with each other; hence the term 'shield-mate.'"

The meaning slowly began to seep into Fayt's consciousness and he looked over at Albel uncertainly. "Okay. So, just what does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," the commander answered simply. "Lyvithia doesn't want you to give up your life for her aid… Though, if you meant what you said at the mines, then you should be happy it won't come to that."

Fayt frowned, looking down in his cup, seemingly afraid of his next question but knowing he had to ask anyway. "So… what am I giving up?"

The answer was straight-forward and spoken entirely seriously. "Your virginity." Albel paused to let the blunt response sink in. "She will only help you if you're a member of the Nox family: either as an heir or as a consort. Because I will not saddle you with the responsibilities of my family and, since there's so little time left, we're going to have to improvise."

"Albel," the youth said, his voice a soft and nearly inaudible whisper. "I-I've never… not even… with a girl…" Fayt covered this sudden nervousness by taking a deep drink from his wine.

"I know. It's obvious," Albel remarked calmly.

He could hear the audible swallow from Fayt, saw the uncertain and innocent look shift, hardening, become one of determination. It was what cinched it for the swordsman that the teen would follow through with this before he'd ever said a word.

"If that's the only way, then I guess I have no choice."

"You could choose to let her die," Albel offered, though he knew the teen wouldn't accept that.

"No! I owe her too much, both as a comrade and as a friend."

Setting down his empty goblet, Albel turned to leave the room. "Fine then. Go bathe. When you finish, I'll be expecting you at my chambers."

Little more than an hour later, the commander stood in the center of his chambers combing out the damp tendrils of his hair. Albel, too, had taken the time to bathe since he was sure that Fayt was going to have to work up his nerve. That being the case, he was uncertain as to just how long it would take for the young man to finally arrive at the door of his bedchamber.

He'd chosen his room, his own bed, for the sole purpose of comfort - both his own and the youth's. While Albel could sleep anywhere, he preferred the overlarge and immensely comfortable bed that resided only a few feet away. It would be all the more appropriate for what was going to be happening.

It had been a long time since the swordsman had taken anyone to his bed, man or woman, and up to now it had never been this bed. Considering the circumstances, he fully intended to do his best to keep this experience from being traumatizing for the younger man. Before the bath, he'd even changed out his artificial arm for the one that would be far less intimidating.

The knock, when it came, was almost too quiet to be heard. Albel opened the portal, nodding when Fayt stood before him, garbed in the dressing robe that he'd donned after his bath. "Come in."

Silently, the youth passed through the door, his face hidden and avoiding the commander's completely. His nervousness was total, not just in the averted eyes, but also in the trembling of the fist clenched at the teen's hip. Reaching out, the nobleman lifted at Fayt's chin, forcing his gaze up.

"I won't think less of you if you change your mind," Albel said, his voice softer and gentler than Fayt had ever heard it.

"I've made my choice," the youth said, despite the tremor to his voice.

Albel nodded before leaning in, his mouth halting next to Fayt's ear. "You're going to have to relax," he said in that same soft voice. The proximity altered the tone slightly, drawing a shiver from the younger man.

He started slow, cautiously, pressing a small series of kisses against the side of the teen's throat. Albel wanted to be certain of how such advances would be received. While he was not usually one for such build-up, he knew that it would be necessary for this situation. When Fayt's arms wound up around his back, the swordsman pulled the younger body in close, so they were pressing together firmly.

Albel could feel the thundering of the young man's heart in his chest, the trembling in the thin frame, the increasingly laborious breath. Fayt was starting to relax and allow himself to be swept away by the sensations. That was the moment that Albel chose to initiate a kiss, his first ever, and found not even a token resistance. The hands at his back clutched a little tighter, forcing them closer, and Albel parted the lips under his to deepen the kiss.

Fayt made a sound then, caught somewhere between a moan and a whimper. It was not contrived, it was an honest noise that incited a little more aggression from the older warrior. His right hand shifted, catching one edge of the upper robe, and pulled it off of the teen's shoulder. Albel let his attentions wander to that bare skin, nipping at it, pressing kisses against the clean flesh.

Before he'd fully bared the youth's upper body, Fayt had tangled one hand in the loose dark strands at the back of Albel's head. The youth said nothing and soft sounds of appreciation spurred the commander into further action. He bathed Fayt's nipples with his tongue, drawing each one between his eager lips, working gently at them with his teeth to tug them into hardened points.

That was when the younger man finally found his voice, though it was breathless, enough to sound out a simple plea. "Don't stop, Albel."

The commander had no intention of stopping, or slowing. While it was Fayt's first time entirely, this was the first time ever that Albel had engaged in prolonged foreplay of any kind. So far, the swordsman decided that he enjoyed it nearly as much as the youth who was currently his focus. Part of him wanted to see just what other kinds of sounds he could pull from that young, virginal body.

He turned Fayt around, pressing against the teen's back, his flesh hand rising under the lowermost hem of the robe. Albel's mouth continued lavishing attention against the younger man's shoulders and neck even when his hand took hold of the teen's swelling sex. Fayt almost squeaked in surprise, the sound interrupted when the callused hand stroked the velvety skin, encouraging the organ to fully harden.

"Should I continue, Fayt?" Albel asked huskily, unable to keep from teasing the youth. Already, the boy's hips were pitching in rhythm with his hand, driving himself more fully through the swordsman's grasp.

His answer came, not in words, but in the form of a hand in his hair pulling him close enough for a frenzied kiss. Albel accepted the affirmative response, diving between Fayt's parted lips for another taste of him. Caught up in the mood, the swordsman ground against the teen's back, giving his own hungry body teasing friction.

Fayt's rhythm began to falter, growing increasingly spasmodic, but Albel continued stroking him. It was not unexpected when the youth cried out, his head falling back against the older man's shoulder while warmth seeped over the back of Albel's fingers. The teen sagged against the lithe form behind him, gasping and panting, while his knees struggled to keep him upright.

Mercifully, Albel guided him to the bed and coaxed him to lay out on the soft surface. Under his crimson gaze, the youth colored slightly, just now realizing that the robe only barely concealed him. "This is going to get in the way," Albel said, unknotting the cloth belt before spreading the garment open to reveal the youth completely.

Under those eyes, Fayt trembled visibly, and the commander noted that with some satisfaction. His previous lovers had been experienced, had passed the point of shyness or embarrassment long before his time with them. Albel liked the honesty of the youth's reactions.

He discarded his stifling robe, revealing to the teen that he was also enjoying himself, his own swollen length rigid and dripping against his lean stomach. Albel brought his hand to his mouth, the white pearls of Fayt's climax still clinging to his skin, and lapped each one away with his tongue. The taste wasn't nearly as bitter as that of his past lovers, proving that the teen had done his best to remain healthy.

Another point in Fayt's favor this night.

Albel took that same hand, the fingers sliding through the clear pearls of his own desire, before offering them to the teen. "Taste me," he commanded in his husky voice. To his surprise and pleasure, Fayt did so, drawing as many of the digits as he could into the warmth of his mouth.

While the youth was so occupied, he swept down, dark hair trailing against the boy's skin, and took Fayt's deflating cock into his mouth. The suction against his fingers tightened in surprise and a gasp lodged in the youth's throat. He could still taste the remnants of the young man's climax, causing him to purr slightly and quicken his actions to draw up more still.

It was Albel's turned to be surprised when, not very much later, he felt the youth's hand against his own sex. The stroking was unsure and even somewhat clumsy, but it was proof that the teen was going to try to be active during this first experience. Albel purred again in approval as he continued his attempts to make Fayt ready for more.

When moist warmth engulfed the head of his cock, it took all Albel had not to choke. He pulled free and looked back, his gaze obscured by the teen's azure hair. He felt the suction, could see the muscles of Fayt's throat working, and smiled to himself. Already, the boy was proving that he would, most likely, be a very satisfying lover just on enthusiasm alone.

One that Albel was going to enjoy as much as possible throughout the night.

Since the teen was busy and focused, the swordsman wetted his index finger thoroughly with saliva. Returning to his aborted oral pleasures, he gave the youth plenty more time to become accustomed to the mutual act. Then, he carefully pushed that digit against and through the barrier of Fayt's opening.

The teen pulled free of his length and turned his head as though he were going to say something. Albel chose that brief time to stroke his fingertip inside the youth, making Fayt's body go rigid and drawing forth a short, shocked cry. Without mercy, he repeated the caress, feeling the teen's strong hand grip his leg at the involuntary reaction.

"You don't want me to stop this," Albel warned the youth, his voice heavy with lust and need. "I have to stretch you so I don't hurt you later."

Fayt nodded, gasping, and tried to resume his inexperienced attempts at returning the oral pleasure. Twisting carefully, Albel reached to the small table beside the bed and took up the bottle of oil he'd put there earlier. Gently, he put the liquid to use in helping ease the passage of his fingers as he worked on opening the younger man's body to him.

Once the teen was fully relaxed around three of his long fingers, the swordsman shifted on the bed, pulling Fayt off of him carefully. "Turn around, on your knees, and hold the frame of the bed," Albel instructed hoarsely, his hands urging the youth to hurry and obey.

He moved behind the younger man, pressing his chest against Fayt's back, the palms of both his hands sliding against the damp skin. "So far, you've enjoyed this," Albel whispered, nuzzling under one of Fayt's ears with a purr to his voice.

"Yes," came the soft reply, though it wasn't needed.

His tongue flickered out, lapping against Fayt's pulse slowly. "I'm going to take you… infuse my scent into every part of your body…"

The youth moaned at the words, barely understanding in the haze of almost desperate need that overwhelmed him. Albel pressed the head of his cock against the stretched opening, pushed against the teen steadily, until he was sliding in. "You've trusted me so far," the swordsman said with a groan, trying to forestall any panic. "Don't lose that now."

Once he was fully buried, Albel pressed his forehead against the teen's shoulder, trying to maintain his sanity whilst in the grip of that tight embrace. He could feel Fayt shuddering around his length, growing used to the sensation of being filled. The youth's hands gripped the wooden frame of the bed so strongly that his knuckles had gone white. When Albel noticed this, he frowned slightly.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, his voice low.

Fayt shook his head, then answered verbally. "No… j-just not used to… to… having something back there…" The swordsman could see a light suffusion of color form all along the youth's neck and chuckled.

"You'll forget about that once I start moving," Albel promised. His lower body drew back, then reversed and he thrust forward carefully. He both heard and felt the moan Fayt gave at that, pulling a smile from him before repeating the gesture.

At first, the rhythm developed by the swordsman was slow and steady, more for the youth's benefit than his own. Once Fayt had relaxed into what was happening, Albel shifted the teen so that he was on all fours. He leaned over that strong young back, his tongue sliding along a shoulder blade, his thrusts resuming.

Every time the youth threatened to climax, Albel would prevent it by changing their positions. To his pleasure, the teen didn't complain. When the swordsman knelt over Fayt, uniting their bodies again, the younger man wound his arms around Albel's neck and pulled him down for an overdue kiss.

Going into that kiss, Albel quickened his thrusts. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his back and shoulders, testament of both the intensity and his patience. "I think I like… this way the… best," he heard Fayt whisper when the kiss broke.

"Then this is how we'll finish," the swordsman answered, reaching between them with his flesh hand to take hold of Fayt's wet cock and stroke it.

That young frame reacted to the stimulus by gripping him even more strongly, the caress around his length tightening to an almost maddening degree. Albel couldn't keep himself from intensifying his sensual assault, driving in harder and faster. Below him, Fayt's head thrashed back and forth, as if trying to deny the pleasure overwhelming his senses.

The crest broke, washing over the swordsman suddenly, and he howled as his climax overtook him. Each pulse robbed him of breath and strength, filling his veins with white-hot fire while he filled Fayt with his essence. His hand flew along the youth's organ, forcing the teen to join him only heartbeats later.

Albel collapsed against the younger man's heaving chest, spent and boneless. Though he was certainly weakened, he welcomed the lethargy that was already creeping over his trembling frame. He could feel each of Fayt's breaths, the teen's body experiencing exactly what he was, and it lifted the corners of his mouth in a small smile.

"Oh, God," Fayt murmured, his arms sliding around Albel's back, the youth's slender fingers tangling in the long strands of the commander's hair.

"Tomorrow," Albel said lowly, shifting his head to look at Fayt's face, "we'll go back to Lyvithia and she'll take us up the mountain."

The younger swordsman's eyes closed briefly before reopening to meet Albel's gaze. "Thank you."

"Tch… shut up and go to sleep, idiot," Albel chastised lowly, though it was free of his usual mocking tone, "before you say something stupid."