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.

---

The commander of the Black Brigade had two days before he was to head out with his force. Instead of staying at the royal palace, he returned to Kirlsa. He wanted the sleep he knew he wouldn't be getting while he was gone and he needed to tell Fayt what was going on. Albel knew that, in all likelihood, the teen wouldn't like what was going to happen, but there was just no way around it.

Albel had a job to do and Fayt probably understood that his duty had to come before his personal life. If he didn't, well, then it was too good to last anyway. Part of him secretly hoped that the younger man would be accepting, regardless of what might happen.

It had been snowing again, unsurprisingly. The swordsman pulled his fur-lined cloak around him tighter as he dismounted from his lum and approached the doors of his home. He had just reached the threshold when the door opened, surprising Albel, and he was hauled inside.

He couldn't even get a greeting out before his lips were stolen up in a kiss and a pair of lean arms wound around his narrow waist. Albel recognized the taste and scent of his lover, bringing his artificial hand up to the back of Fayt's head as his other hand loosened the heavy cloak. It carelessly fell to the floor while he pulled the younger man flush against his lean body.

“I missed you,” the youth said as he broke the kiss.

One of Albel's eyebrows rose at the declaration. “Idiot, I was gone less than a week.”

Fayt shook his head. “That doesn't matter.”

“Tch,” was the swordsman's only response. He looked down into the youth's face, trying to gauge his mood. “I've got two days free.”

“Albel, let me come with you. You know I'm a good-”

“No,” the commander said with a note of finality to his voice. “I'm not discussing or arguing this with you again, Fayt. I already told you the reason.”

The younger man slumped in defeat and sighed. “I know...”

“Are you still angry at me for denying you?”

Fayt shook his head again. “Not really. I... I just wanted to spend some more time with you. That's all.” He pressed himself against the swordsman again, burying his face against Albel's neck.

“I don't see why. I rarely ever say anything nice to you.” He tried to keep himself from winding both arms around that warm, inviting form. Unfortunately, Albel liked how the younger man felt against him.

“I've learned to listen to what you don't say,” the blue-haired teen murmured against his skin. The sensation of the breath against his flesh drew a shiver from Albel, who tightened his arms around Fayt. “That's nice,” the youth purred in response.

The older man was amazed at how receptive and appreciative the youth was to the smaller gestures of affection that Albel had thought himself incapable of before. Though the man wasn't given to random touches, the times when he would hold Fayt when they weren't being intimate seemed to be just as welcome as his more arousing caresses. Albel lifted the teen's chin and brought their lips together.

Fayt gave a pleased sound at that, one of his arms shifting so his hand could rise to the back of the swordsman's head. Albel could feel how the younger man's heartbeat quickened when the kiss started, amazed at such a reaction. Often, the only time they ever did kiss was during sex. Other than that, it was incredibly rare for Albel to initiate it himself.

“Bed me?” Fayt asked in a soft voice when they broke apart. This was the first time the words weren't accompanied by a blush.

Albel put his mouth close to the teen's ear. “I'm barely in the door and you're asking already?”

Now the color rose to Fayt's cheeks and his green eyes lowered to the floor. “I want something to take my mind off the fact you're leaving soon,” he explained in a low voice.

“Idiot, I won't be gone that long,” Albel told him. “You make it sound like I'm not coming back.” He was surprised when the younger man's arms tightened around his waist and the blue head buried against his chest.

“I can't help it,” Fayt whispered.

“Maybe I should bed you soon... to keep you from saying something dumb.” Albel pulled the young man away from the door and started leading him up the stairs to the master bedroom. Fayt didn't resist, going along with very little urging.

As they reached the door, the teen started pressing kisses against Albel's throat. The commander tried his best to ignore the reaction that had him wanting to shove the youth against the outside of the door, only letting it break free when they were in the bedchamber itself. Once he'd closed the portal, he pressed Fayt against it, locking their lips together in a hot kiss.

The younger man groaned into Albel's mouth, the sound almost desperate. The swordsman worked at Fayt's shirt, prying it from him until his upper body was bare. He only broke the kiss to let his lips travel over the revealed skin, evoking a happy sound from the teen who reached over Albel's slender back to grasp the half-shirt the man wore and tug at it.

It came off without any argument, getting tossed forgotten to the side. Albel hungrily resumed his attack on the young man, marking Fayt's skin with bites. The blue-haired teen clutched at him, gasping in the wake of the sensations that threatened to overwhelm his wits. “Albel,” he moaned, looking at the other man with half-lidded eyes.

The voice that called his name was hungry and lust-laden, drawing the commander's crimson gaze upwards as he finally stripped the pants from the younger man's lower half and tossed them over his shoulder. Fayt was already aroused, the wet tip of his cock weeping in anticipation. Albel took it in hand, stroking it roughly, and the youth cried out.

“Take me here,” Fayt gasped, splaying his legs while his fingers clawed at the wood of the door behind his back.

Albel nodded at that and hastened to get the oil he kept near the bed, returning as quickly as possible. He poured it over his fingers, rubbing them together to coat them thoroughly, before pressing his digits between the teen's thighs. Fayt's strong hands grabbed his shoulders as his sensitive ring was caressed, stroked, and stimulated.

There was a lustful cry as Albel pushed two fingers into the lean body. Fayt reacted seemingly on instinct, pushing down against the hand to get them as deep as he could. The swordsman worked against that press, rubbing his knuckles against the bump within the younger body so he could draw another of those hungry sounds. He wasn't disappointed.

“Albel, please,” the teen begged desperately.

The impassioned cry caused Albel's cock to harden considerably, and he grew impatient with the need to bury it in the boy's heat. He readied Fayt more quickly than he normally would have, shoving his sarong aside before he grasped and lifted Fayt's legs. His entry was swift, gravity assisting as he lowered the younger man on his hard length.

His hands held the younger man's hips, keeping him in place as the thrusts began. Albel drove in, his strokes deep, building a frenzied pace almost immediately. Fayt grasped his shoulders, fusing their lips together in a hungry kiss, rocking his body.

In no time, the teen peaked, his cry of release lost in Albel's mouth. The swordsman pulled Fayt from the door and took him to the bed. Albel resumed the frenzied thrusts as he lay the youth down and braced over him, shaking the lean body from each impact. The tight hold around him constricted as Fayt moaned, his senses overloaded.

Then, Albel arched, his eyes closing, as he gave an abrupt shout. His fingers bruised the skin at the teen's waist and his essence poured into the younger man, the rush of orgasm blanking his mind momentarily. When the swordsman collapsed on Fayt's chest, the youth held him close, still panting from his own completion.

After he'd caught his breath again, he pushed up on his arms and looked down at the teen beneath him. The marks of his possession were still fresh on the younger man's skin. His crimson eyes swept down, finding each one and counting them. “I'm sorry,” the swordsman said as he ran his fingers against one of the teeth imprints.

Fayt looked down at the touch and smiled faintly. “Don't worry about it,” he told his lover. “It's not like it's the first time you've done it.” The younger man reached up and brushed his fingers against the side of Albel's face. “Leave as many of those on me as you want.”

“Why should I?” the swordsman asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I like it,” the teen admitted, “and it marks me as yours.”

“I don't own you,” Albel told Fayt with a confused expression. This was probably one of those in-depth sentimental things that he wouldn't understand.

The younger man sat up a little. “No... but I gave you my body when I asked you to let me be your lover.” Fayt pointed to several different imprints and then, finally, the finger bruises. “Every one of these tells me that I'm wanted. By you. That my being here wasn't a mistake.”

“Little fool,” Albel chided him as he pushed the youth back down. “If I didn't want you, you wouldn't be here. I'd have left you in Aquios.”

“I know,” Fayt said in a soft voice. “But, when you're gone, these are the only reminders I have.” His hand shifted so he was cupping the side of Albel's face with his palm.

The commander snorted a bit, but didn't offer one of his favored insults to his lover. He reached up, taking Fayt's wrist in a gentle grip, though he didn't remove the touch. “I don't know what you think you see in me,” Albel said in a low voice, “but I don't mind you being here. No matter what I may say, or deny, it's truth.”

A smile found Fayt's mouth at that and he gave a little nod in response. “You're the only person who doesn't make unreasonable demands of me, Albel. You don't veil your words with ulterior motives and you're honest when we talk. I lo-like that about you.”

Albel had caught the aborted word in the syntax of the sentence and knew instantly what the teen had stopped himself from saying: love. It proved that Fayt understood him enough to realize that such a word would not be well-received by the commander. Though they were lovers, yes, he would not approve of the use of that particular word. Not now, definitely. Not ever, probably.

---

The night before Albel had to ride out for Peterny found the commander and his azure-haired lover in the main room of his estate. They sat before the fireplace, wrapped in one of the thick blankets kept downstairs for warmth. Fayt was leaned back against the swordsman's chest, between Albel's long legs, his head resting against the older man's shoulder. The teen was toying with a handful of Albel's loose hair; curling it around his fingers absently.

“You're going to be careful, right?” the youth asked Albel, looking at the man sidelong from his position.

Staring into the fire, the dark-haired man snorted a little. “Like those traitorous maggots could do anything to me. I'll be back in a week.”

Fayt smiled lightly at that, releasing the lock of hair to reach up behind his head and lace his fingers at the back of Albel's neck. He shifted enough to press a soft kiss under the other man's chin. “Don't you have to know where they are first?” he asked in an amused voice.

“Maggots like these always hole up in the same places and, by habit, they always go to the same places. We'll probably find a handful of them in one of the seedy dives,” Albel explained with another snort. “A bit of pressure will get us the rest of the morons.”

“Then it's probably good that you'll take care of it fast,” Fayt said, looking up at the man again. “So you won't be able to think too hard about an easy win.”

Albel met that verdant gaze, a dark smile touching his mouth. “I do prefer a challenge in combat, yes. But it seems I won't be getting one any time soon.”

“I know,” the youth said. “My fault.” Fayt settled back against him and closed his eyes. “It just wouldn't feel right fighting you now.”

“Give me time,” the swordsman said in response. “I'm sure I'll do something to change that.” He slid his arms around Fayt's middle and pulled the younger man more fully against him.

Albel couldn't help but enjoy this closeness. After his father had died, there'd been no one in his life, other than Woltar, to fill the need. This had left an aching void in the commander that he'd channeled into his anger and rage. Slowly, Fayt was working against that emptiness.

While Albel didn't want to let it be filled at first, the greedy bastard he was had latched onto the opportunity and refused to be denied.

The younger man purred in his throat at the shift, a sound which Albel only barely heard at first. It surprised Albel, really. When Fayt had first broached the subject about becoming the commander's lover, he'd thought the youth was simply in it for the newly discovered sex. It had taken the better part of the month for the man to realize that the teen seemed to have an obvious affection for him that had gone beyond the intimacy.

Now that he thought about it a little more, the agreement with Lyvithia did nothing more than open a doorway for Fayt to act on. Since he knew that gentle sentiment would not have won Albel over, he had to use something much more tangible and realistic. Despite knowing the younger man's feelings after overhearing the conversation he'd been having with the Aquios woman, Albel had let him.

Perhaps, even in disregard of his own personal arguments about it, Albel needed this, too. The realization almost had him shoving the teen away from him. Almost, but not quite.

Though he'd never be able to admit it, Albel had thought of Fayt over the last year when he'd been gone. The others, they didn't matter. But the blue-haired youth... after his sound defeat at the teen's hands, Albel had looked at the boy with more respect. No one had ever bested him in combat before.

That was what had made the younger man more remarkable than the rest. It was his passion and his spirit that had made the difference in that battle. Albel had been going through the motions, serving his liege. But, not Fayt. Fayt had been driven by something else entirely and had, somehow, managed to sweep Albel up in it, too.

For a short time, the swordsman had felt a sense of purpose to his existence. Then, once Luther was defeated, that feeling had washed away to be replaced with emptiness. It had taken Albel a little time to recover from that, but when he did, he'd gone back into life the same as he'd always done.

With the reintroduction of Fayt into that boring life, things just seemed a bit brighter, perhaps.

Albel nuzzled the blue-hair at his cheek before addressing the younger man again. “It's getting late. We should head up for bed.”

“Can't we stay like this a little longer?” Fayt complained in a soft voice.

The question brought a smirk from the swordsman. “Did I mention it was for sleep?” he asked the youth.

When Fayt looked up at Albel's face, the man curled his warm fingers under the teen's chin. “I recall you wanted me to leave my marks on you,” he said with a low tone. “Wouldn't it be better if they were freshly placed?”

Fayt turned in the circle of his arms, smiling at the words. That smile stunned the swordsman just a little. “Yes, it would,” he told the older man.

“Maybe, you should return the favor,” Albel said before running his thumb over Fayt's lower lip. “I know you've been wanting to.”

“Am I that transparent?” Fayt asked, smiling again.

“You've no idea.”

---

The crossroad town of Peterny was its usual hustle and bustle when Albel arrived with his soldiers. He checked in with the dragon riders that Carianna had sent to help cover the patrols and learned that there really hadn't been much in the way of activity. That knowledge was a bit frustrating, to say the least.

Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as bitter cold in the lower altitude so Albel didn't need the warmth of his cloak. He didn't bother removing it just yet because it also served a secondary purpose. One that he hadn't given much thought until a soldier casually pointed out a dark stain against his skin under one ear. Private inspection had shown several more of the bruises.

Albel had been in such a hurry to get on his way that he'd taken no notice of any of these marks Fayt had left. His second in command, however, had pointed out a couple that were rather suspicious. Unlike his predecessor, Shelby, this new second was an intelligent sort who knew his place and knew when to keep his mouth shut. One dark glare from the commander had sealed the man's silence about the bruises almost instantly.

It wasn't at all that he was ashamed by them. It was the fact that it would cause rumors amongst his soldiers. Questions would come later, of course. These would only worsen the rumors.

Then again, if it kept some of the other nobility from trying to match him with their daughters, perhaps this wasn't such a terrible thing indeed.

He left his second in charge of the troops with orders to have a few of them go to several of the taverns incognito. After this, Albel procured himself a room at the Luxury Inn. He wanted solitude.

After a bath, the swordsman studied himself in the long mirror. Fayt had taken him more than seriously when he'd left his own marks on the slender body. Albel found faded teeth imprints on his skin, a few bruises from the youth's fingers, and still more marks at his shoulders and throat.

There were even a few hidden around the collar Albel wore, though he could not remember when they were put there. He reached up and, tentatively, unclasped the heavy weight from his neck. It had been years since he'd removed it, but he wanted a better look.

The suckle bruises were a lot more intense there, as if Fayt knew leaving them in such a place would be safer and less likely to be noticed. Albel reached up, brushing his fingers against one near the hollow of his throat. Had he not removed the collar, he'd have never noticed it.

“Idiot,” he chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head a little.

He put the heavy adornment back into place, hiding those marks again. Part of him said to leave it off and show the rest of the world that he wasn't available or eligible for their idiotic ploys or ideals of marriage. He was a private person, however, and didn't succumb to that little desire. If need be, he would probably end up with still more later, so it wasn't necessary for now.

Albel also patently refused to analyze the part of him that seemed to revel in the marking. The idea of being so utterly claimed was a thrill that he felt, but didn't explore. Perhaps it was something similar to what Fayt felt when he looked at his own body and saw the evidence of their continued intimacy?

If that were the case, then no, he couldn't fault the teen for wanting the repeated reminders. When someone was suffering the feeling of being lost, the most important thing to them was to have something or someone to belong to. Albel could understand that implicitly.

---

The planted soldiers were netting no favorable results. Albel and Veran, his second in command, both worked at a solution that might offer something better while they took in a quiet dinner. However, there was precious little that could truly be done.

“Lord Nox,” the younger man said as he addressed his commander, “to be honest, I don't think they're here anymore.”

Albel leaned back in his chair at the dining table and rested his chin against the back of his prosthetic claw. The frown on his face said that he believed the other man was probably right. “It's been a week,” he finally told Veran. “The cowards probably ran back to their masters as soon as we arrived.”

“If so, sir, then maybe we should focus our search closer to home. With you here,” Veran added, “they'll be more likely to try something drastic.”

“Tch.” The disgusted sound preceded Albel lifting his hand to his forehead with a long-suffering sigh. “These bastards are starting to annoy me,” he said at last.

Veran didn't respond to that as he studied the map. Woltar had marked the areas which pointed out the locations that the spy network had found, but closer investigation got nothing from them. They'd been abandoned fairly recently.

“Sir?” he said, looking over at the commander.

Albel's crimson eyes rose to Veran's face and one eyebrow rose at the questioning tone.

“Maybe... we should slip out quietly,” his second said. “In small groups at odd hours, few will notice us leaving. If we leave a unit behind, no one will be the wiser that our main force went home.”

The wisdom of the suggestion brought a vicious smile to Albel's face as he sat up in his chair. “And it'll make the maggots more likely to slip up.”

“Exactly, sir. Since we know they're from our country, we know they're probably based in Airyglyph somewhere. Maybe we should start quiet investigations of our more remote locations?”

“A sound plan,” the swordsman agreed. Albel looked more closely at the map, pointing out a few potential choices. “Send small units here, here, and here. Make sure that the idiots understand they're not to engage any of these traitors unless given no choice. I want information first, not our own blood spilt.”

“Since you're staying at the other inn,” Veran said, looking at his leader, “I'll upkeep the rent on the room so that any unfriendly inquiries will think you're still here. I think it's best that you slip out tonight, my lord.”

“Oh?”

Veran smiled a bit and gave the other man a shrug. “You've been kind of grouchy the last few days this week. Maybe, sir, I'd like for you to get back to your woman and let her calm you down.”

Any other time, the words would have caused an angry reaction. However, because of his subordinate's obvious ignorance, Albel started laughing. “And what makes you think I have a woman waiting for me?” he asked Veran once his mirth began to fade.

“My lord, a man who keeps company with a whore doesn't come away from such encounters with marks on his skin like the ones you had. It's obvious.” Veran looked relieved that he wasn't about to suffer for his bold statements. “Whoever she is, she must be one formidable creature to be able to hold her own against you.”

Albel leaned back in his seat again, looking at the man from under his dark lashes. “If only you knew,” was his cryptic response.