Archive of Our Own

"We meet again, Warrior." The lead singer for the Ascians sneers down his nose at you, mockery twisting your stage name into an insult. It's impressive how he manages the look despite his lesser height, eyes level with your collarbone. From your vantage, his golden hair fairly glows in the dim side stage lights. A loose sports jacket rides over the Ascian standard fitted vest, purple patterns embroidered over the black material. His turtleneck beneath the vest is drawn high on his neck, corded cloth looking dreamily soft to the touch. A shine draws your attention to his lips twisted in a scowl, some kind of gloss lending the plump lines a faint shimmer. Swallowing at the distracting sight, cursing how he always manages to distract you, you bring your gaze back to his unwavering glare. 

You narrow your eyes, never one to back down from a challenge from the erstwhile singer, and start towards him to give him a piece of your mind. "With a mouth like that I can see why your fans prefer Nabriales. Pity your sweet vocals are a stage only feature." Brushing against his open jacket, shirt to tailored shirt, you jam a finger accusingly in his face. "And another thing, La-Hee-brea--"

"Do not call me that--" His gloved hand snaps up to cover yours, grip too tight for mere pleasantries. Wincing, you recoil from the unforgiving touch. "Lahabrea--"

"What's this, what's this, seducing our rival songstress minutes before call time, dear Speaker?" Nabriales steps out of the dim backstage, hands spread wide in audacious welcome. Glancing over, you note his equally well fitted vest, emphasizing his trim form. The abstract purple whorls on the fabric flatter his complexion. He lithely stalks over to where you stand still, grasped by Lahabrea's hand.

With no little amount of mortification, you feel a blush rising to the tips of your ears, unused to such scrutiny. Nabriales's gaze turns approving, roving over your outfit. You send a quick prayer to Hydaelyn that the dim light will conceal your treacherous reaction. Dubious dismay dredges through you as Nabriales's canines dimple his lower lip in a delighted smile.

"Now if you want a proper seduction," Nabriales takes your unclaimed hand in both of his. "I would be happy to demonstrate." He lays an entirely too proper kiss on your bare knuckles for how intently he seeks your gaze. Your knuckles burn at the site, the smear of his coral lipstick an indelicate claim.

"Now see here, Nabriales--" Lahabrea begins, sputtering, as his grip turns crushing. The bolder man meets the Speaker's gaze, smirk widening as he bares his teeth in unmistakable challenge.

"Gentlemen."

You shiver as the low, dark voice rolls across the stage. Seeking its source, though you know all too well its originator, leaves you staring at a familiar white suit adorned in gold accents. Striding up to the impromptu blockage you've formed, Elidibus lays deceptively gentle hands on his cohorts' shoulders.

"Leave the lady be, gentlemen. We have an audience waiting."

Lahabrea drops your hand as though it bit him, throwing it hard enough to smart before hurrying away to the stage with a huff and upturned nose. Wincing, you pull your hand free of Nabriales's now slack grip to massage feeling back into your fingers.

"Adieu dear Warrior, until next time!" With a jaunty salute that sends his earrings sparkling in the stage light, Nabriales follows Lahabrea on stage. A quiet presence at your shoulder sighs, this company unusual but not unwelcome.

"I do hope you'll remain tonight and listen, Warrior."

"Oh?" You eye the Ascian at your side, his invitation a rare treat. On stage you hear tuning strings, the practice tap of a snare, the muffled hustle that is a part of your very being. You twitch instinctively at the sound, voice still sore from your own performance not a bell prior. Yet you yearn to be back on stage, the Scions at your back, singing out your soul to the packed crowd.

Elidibus notes your tapping foot and twitching fingers with a small smile. A hand tucks at your back, propelling you forward a few fulms to the edge of the curtain.

"The best seat in the house, should you wish it." Elidibus whispers at your ear. "Bar none. Save being on stage with us, of course."

Your eyes catch on the instruments and their wielders. So different from your crew--

Nabriales tuning his guitar, hands sure as any lover's, caressing the long neck and steel strings. A dramatic contrast to Urianger's deliberate motions, proscribed and predictable.

Up on the drummer's platform perches Emet-Selch, violet lipstick and shadowed eyes giving him an unhealthy pallor, yet he tests and adjusts his kit with all the vigor Thancred shows openly in every performance.

In your spot at the center of the stage stands Lahabrea, covered from neck to toe in glamorous black. The color emphasizes his aurum locks, spilling loose over his shoulders in an ethereal cascade save for the small braid by his ear. You can faintly hear his humming, recognizing the warm up for what it is. You almost join along before catching yourself, glancing to Elidibus sheepishly.

"I really ought to be getting back, Tataru will be wondering where I've gone..."

"A pity." Elidibus glides his hand down your back, around your waist, tugging your hip to his. "The show we could give them together would be remarkable."

Your breath catches in your throat, the hot line of him flush against your side.

"Elidibus!" Emet-Selch calls in a sing-song voice, lips curved in a wicked smile. "We are waiting."

A chuckle leaves the dangerously attractive man at your side, hand releasing its hold as he steps away.

"Then I shall keep you in suspense no longer."

Stretching fingers overhead as he moseys to the keyboard stand where Tataru so recently stood, Elidibus casts a final glance back over his shoulder. Your heart skips a beat at the inviting smile he shares, pulse racing an upbeat tempo. Four sets of eyes meet yours from the stage; Aurum, gold, amethyst, and earth. Pinning you in place surely as a snake's coil. You stand and stare, transfixed and oh so tempted.

Wavering whether to stay or go, Elidibus delivers your decision unto you with a sinful smile.

"Stay, Warrior, and sample our delights."

The curtain rises, lights blinding as the opening chord blasts out from the amp. You shiver as the drums kick in, piano close behind in lilting keys. At center stage Lahabrea bounces in place, gathering momentum, before dropping his jaw to sing.

Ah.

Dulcet tones, clear as a bell and as deep ranging as a river flowing over you, the first stanza of Ultima graces the crowd. The harsh, fast beat has you bouncing in place, close enough to see the sweat start on Lahabrea's brow. Lights dazzle and dim, painting the audience in whirling colors, visual effects just as frenetic as the song they deliver. You've heard the Ascian's set before, sure, but never like this.

Ever since coming to town, you've brushed shoulders with the enigmatic group. Sometimes more, in Thancred's ill-fated case. Booking the same venues, playing the same crowds, it was inevitable that you'd get to hear their music. And, privately, you could acknowledge their quality. Lahabrea's vocals in particular equaled your own, his skill with his group on display every show. A cohesive unit, for all their bickering and jibes, you've almost given in so many times to ask and leverage their experience.

But what would the Scions say... Thancred leading the charge to declare his distaste, disgust, even, for reaching out--his history with Lahabrea tainting all association with the group. Urianger quietly disapproving, disappointed that his vast musical background is insufficient for you to feast on. Lured once to play bass for them, he left that performance all the quieter, and he'd been reclusive to start. You'd lamented losing the pictures of his guest performance, stolen away when you'd left them out carelessly in the Scion’s practice rooms. Sleeveless, sweating beside Elidibus, the usually polished and impeccable Elezen had been transformed into a decadent vision when he played with the Ascians.

Tataru...Tataru actually might not mind, if you truly wanted to converse with the quartet. Her motherly affection is always on tap, pushing you towards your goals. She was your original audience and greatest encouragement as you took your first steps towards main lyricist for the Scions.

Emet-Selch's drumbeat rattles your bones back to reality, an unscheduled solo that has you meeting his eager stare, instigating grin pleased to secure your attention. The guitar roars and wars with his limber beats, Nabriales casting a provocative glance your way. Keyed notes float over the raucous departure, ushering them back to habitual form. Correction conveyed, Elidibus plays a flourish for you, amethyst eyes creased in a smile. Your heart skips beat after beat at the collective attention; it's almost as though they're playing for you alone.

But--

that would be absurd...

The entire audience hangs on their every note, their every word, song summoning a hectic atmosphere not so unlike what you yourself bring forth. You're captured by them, singing along under your breath as you mirror Lahabrea's gestures on stage. Beseeching, beckoning them close, so unlike his bristling personality when not performing.

Surely the Scions wouldn't begrudge you such entertainment.

Ultima comes to a close, but rather than segue into their next song, Elidibus leans into his mic.

"And for our next number, please give a warm welcome to our guest songstress--the Scions' Warrior of Light!"

Applause rips through the crowd like a living thing, startling in its intensity and you freeze like a deer in headlights. Elidibus gives a swift nod to Nabriales, the beaming guitarist skipping over to you, silver tether trailing behind him. He extends a hand, curling his fingers in invitation as you stare, reaching out to seize you as you hesitate.

"Wh--" Nabriales doesn't give you a chance to protest, dragging you on stage with a gleeful smile. "Come, esteemed songstress. You've been summoned." Pointed canines flash as he grins, pulling you to stand beside Lahabrea before returning to his post. Visions of disapproving Scions flash through your mind, but you barely notice as the prickly Speaker gives you a once over. His eyes glimmer, swiftly calculating, before he stands aside to share the mic stand with you. An offer where you expected resistance. An opportunity to sing with the Ascians backing you. You glance behind, uncertain, as the instrumentalists nod back in synchronicity. Emet-Selch starts the opening beats to their next song--Ardor.

A gentle brush of gloved fingers draws your attention back to Lahabrea, gently winding the digits across your palm to take your hand in light embrace. Roaring their approval, the audience stamps in time as the drumbeats thrum though your lungs, flesh, bones. You open your mouth, lyrics rising to your tongue with ease, and as Lahabrea joins you in belting out his part, you feel something warm spark between you.

Astral and Umbral, your voices twine and tumble in sweet duet. Lyrics you've never dared to give breath tumble from your lips as though you were meant to form them. Lahabrea provides a deeper counterpart to your crystalline tone, impressively effortless. Giving in fully, you sing with all the passion you can provide, buoyed ever higher by the Ascians at your back. Strands of the stanzas weave their way around you, welcoming, warm and tight. As though you're meant to stand here, side by side with this complement surrounding you.

One song segues into another, and another, lyrics rolling off your tongue. Levin fills your veins, the pounding beat indistinguishable from your rapid pulse. The music lives in you; guitar, piano, drums all melding into a melodious furor to stoke the crowd into an ever greater frenzy. 

You lose yourself in the music, swaying in time,  straining your range to match Lahabrea's.  Forgotten, your fingers remain laced together, a sure guide whenever you falter at the less than familiar parts. 

The sea of faces before you become a blur, stage lights enhancing the effect. Lahabrea possessively pulls you closer, radiant heat of him rivaling the stage lights as they turn on you. Whispers of spice and ash dance across your nose, close enough to inhale his cologne . The intoxicating scent draws you closer, the end of the set finding you pressed shoulder to slightly shorter shoulder.

Wild audience applause is your reward, uninhibited shouts and whistles battering your ears as sweat pours down your back. Your chest heaves, lungs burning from the intensity of the set they've drawn from you. Blinking rapidly, you come back to yourself with a jolt, recognizing the solid presence at your side as none other than prickly Lahabrea, tucked close, as he raises your joined hands in salute to the crowd. Manicured nails tap at your shoulder as Nabriales takes a place at your open side. The remaining two Ascians flank their cohorts, lining up for the final bow.

Heart thudding in your throat, you realize you've finished out a set, a lovely chaotic whirl of a set, with these fine musicians as Lahabrea tugs you into a bow. Dreamlike dizziness sets in, mind at war with how miffed your bandmates will be as you file offstage. A hand at your waist scatters the impending spiral of worry, ungloved, white sleeve denoting which of the Ascians it is. As though his sultry voice wasn't a dead giveaway.

"There, now." Elidibus takes up your open side, avoiding Lahabrea's tight hold on your hand. "Did I not say that was the best seat in the house?"

"Aawh!" Nabriales whines, "That was barely a workout, can we practice more when we get home?"

"You want to work more?" Emet-Selch drawls, languorous tone a contrast to the sheen of sweat on his skin. The men banter around you, your comfort swelling, spark lit by the performance spreading to a hungry flame.

You want more.

The thought of leaving, of returning to the Scions’ scorn, stirs slumbering selfishness to the surface. Sandwiched between singer and pianist, you startle as Elidibus offers your innermost desire on a gilded platter.

"Will you be joining us this evening, dear songstress? We'd be most pleased to host you."

The discomfort of your shirt stuck to sweaty skin suddenly makes itself known, no doubt doubly soaked given your earlier performance with no shower taken in between. Surreptitiously you sniff, dreading am unpleasant musk. Yet you smell only the mens' cologne, the newly familiar spice and ash of Lahabrea, and the addition of bergamot from Elidibus by your side mingling soothingly together. 

"I-as lovely as that was--as you were, are, that is--"

"Oh don't be boring." Emet-Selch leads the way past the staff rooms to the exit. Glancing back at you, his golden eyes glitter in admonishment. "You cannot tell me you were not interested, singing along with Lahabrea. What's another bell or three in amiable company, dear songstress."

Backstage staff bustle past you, breaking down the night's equipment and making their rounds as you consider the Ascians' offer. Four sets of eyes fix on you as you move to the exit, a palpable weight that sets your heart racing.

"It would...be nice to get cleaned up, if you're willing to host."

"But of course, we are happy to take responsibility for your current state." Elidibus gives you a small, pleased smile as he leads you out of the building to the garage.

Taxis and ride shares cluster by the entrance and are passed by in favor of a chartered van just around the corner. Nabriales and Emet-Selch precede you, clustering in, and as you take your turn you hear the trunk shake and shut. Finally relinquishing his hold as you enter, Lahabrea follows close behind. 

"Back to the Residence." Elidibus instructs the driver, settling in beside you. From this close you can see the fine fibers that make up his suit, delicate gold filigree brushed along its periphery. In contrast his hair is burnished silver, wound into a loose ponytail that spills over his shoulder. Your fingers itch to touch it, to see if it's as silken as its appearance promises. Clenching your hands in your lap, you wait out the ride, determined to keep from touching unsolicited -- and are immediately stymied by Elidibus taking your hand in his. Running his thumb over your knuckles, he shifts closer, leather seat creaking under his weight.

"Such a lovely performance you've gifted us, my dear. While we are more than pleased to provide for you this evening, might there be something within our power to convince you to sing for us again?"

You swallow dryly, his hypnotic voice pulling at your baser instincts. An unmistakable prickle of interest stirs your stomach to fluttering excitement.

"Yes," Nabriales breath is hot on your neck, arm leaning on the seatrest behind you. "Do tell. We'll make ever such good use of you. You've heard how well our illustrious Lahabrea harmonizes, now. Imagine that for every performance."

Nabriales hovers just above your pointed ear to croon his commentary. The memory of his proud canines send shivers of anticipation through you, each of his exhales caressing your ear’s sensitive points.

"What-ah, what are you proposing here?"

"Is it not clear?" Emet-Selch's languid drawl cuts through the rumble of the city outside as the driver pulls into an underground park, reaching you clearly from the backseat. "Or do you mean to make us beg? I nominate Lahabrea if that is to be the case."

The Speaker splutters, twisting in his seat to glare aghast at his fellow Ascian.

"You dare--"

Amidst the escalating debate, Elidibus squeezes your captive hand to draw your attention back to him. He beckons you closer and you oblige, leaning down so that he may speak directly to your ear.

"What he means to say," Elidibus begins, steady voice clear over the other's bickering, "Is that we would like to keep you, dear Warrior."

You snap upright, blush flooding your face, surely as red as their signature instruments' crimson. They--the Ascians--want to keep you? What happened to your rivalry, their antagonism towards the Scions?

"We've kept an eye on you since your first performance at the Source." Nabriales chimes in, perched on the back of your seat. He props his head on his arm to peer up at you,  mischievous grin curving the edges of his mouth upwards. "Your voice is breathtaking."

You blink, wide eyed at the expansive compliment, and glance to the white suited Ascian for confirmation. Elidibus nods in approval, his small smile tugging at the warmth blooming within you, their praise spawning a silly smile on your face. You press your lips together tight to try and contain it, yet the corners of your mouth twitch up nonetheless.

How unexpected.

With a jolt, the vehicle stops and you realize you've arrived.

"We can continue in more hospitable surroundings, yes?" Elidibus gives your hand a comforting squeeze, and you look down at his fingers wrapped around yours in a gentle hold. His long, dexterous digits twine with yours, the same ones that are so nimble on the ivory keys. The lewd thought of what else they might dance along spreads obtrusively across your mind, sinking into places long neglected.

"Ah, yes..." You follow his lead as he escorts you out to an elevator, Nabriales trailing close behind, still snickering. Shouting echoes across the underground park as the remaining two exit, still engaged in their argument. Your flush extends to your ears in embarrassment as you realize they've moved on to discussing the intimate merits of begging.

"I am merely sharing that your tongue is the most skillful of us assembled here, Lahabrea. If you cannot accept such a simple compliment, you'll be considered positively boorish."

"You cannot be serious, Emet-Selch." Lahabrea bites back, face crimson and brows low in anger. 

"Gentlemen, is this how you intend to persuade our guest to stay?" Elidibus's voice cuts through the conversation, drawing their attention to him where he watches, considering. "Emet-Selch, you know better than to tease our dear Speaker so."

Emet-Selch glares at the aforementioned Speaker for a moment, before he heaves a gusty sigh and shrugs dramatically.

"Noted, Elidibus. I'll remove myself and clean up first." He slouches into the elevator with you, the quarters extremely close.

The ride is mercifully silent and swift, friendly ding releasing you onto a carpeted hallway. Initialled doors line the hall, unique sigils you recognize from the Ascian's show hanging from each. At the end is an unlabelled arch, door swinging open at Nabriales's touch.

Well, you knew the Ascians did well for themselves, but knowing and seeing are two entirely different levels of realization. The flat the arch opens to is immaculate. A two storey open loft greets you, kitchen with its island off to the side, living space and large entertainment center just before you. Countless cushions litter the furniture and floor alike, small nests of books and trinkets scattered across every surface. Sconces light the room in friendly warm tones, soft illumination lending a welcoming atmosphere.

The men scatter on entry, Emet-Selch breaking off first to another hallway past the long couch hemming in the living space. Elidibus escorts you to said sinfully soft couch, ensures your comfort, and heads to the kitchen, humming to himself as he puts on a kettle for tea. From what you can see, the appliances are all top notch and gleaming with care. Nabriales flops beside you while Lahabrea chooses an armchair within the couch's orbit.

"So, will you consider us?" Nabriales presses, insistent, as Lahabrea relaxes into his plush chair with a book at hand.

"Nabriales, it is polite to offer our hospitality before begging boons." A whisper of silken material is your only warning as Elidibus rejoins you, impressively  silent, saucer and cup extended in gentle repose. The steam of the tea tickles your nose as you take the saucer, scent of early grey headily alluring. Settling beside you, Elidibus takes a demure sip of his own steaming cup.

"Now, to discuss our proposal." You shiver at the businesslike tone his voice takes, facing you head on with those amethyst eyes of his.

Immensely attractive and incredibly popular, you have to wonder at his sincerity in inviting you to join their group. 

"Your singing is above par, with some polishing you would put all others to shame. We would be happy to provide that polish, should you choose to join us as lead vocalist."

"Lead? Not shared or backup?" You glance over to Lahabrea, unsure what the fiery man's reaction is at being possibly replaced, and find him utterly unperturbed. He calmly turns the page of his book as Elidibus continues.

"With you on lead vocals, Lahabrea could return to composing full time, as is his passion. He would retire to backup vocals."

You stare at the Speaker, bemused. His pride was not from being lead vocalist, but from writing the Ascian's songs? Why then did he bristle and bark every time you encountered him backstage, determined to make you admit his songs were better?

Nabriales interrupts, tapping your shoulder with a careless hand to draw your gaze to his shite-eating grin.

"Did you not wonder, dear songstress, at how well he harmonized with you? Many of our songs were designed for two vocalists in mind."

"What?" Dazed, you turn to look at Lahabrea. He faces away from you all, book held up to thoroughly hide his reaction, but you spot a hint of pink on his ear. "Is this true?"

"We have had our eye on you for some time, Warrior." Lahabrea's voice does not shake, delivered as easily as chatting on a sunny day, but neither does he emerge from his cover. "Since you sang Echo, in fact."

Blinking, you recall your first performance. The Scions had barely managed the booking, an unproven lot in the face of groups that affiliated with one of the major brands to secure their slots. Yet you managed, and the crowd had adored the performance. The crowd that was rightfully there for the headliners, the Ascians--not that you'd met them, then. Their greenroom was far removed from the other acts. That they'd been watching the Scions, watching you since then sends butterflies through your stomach. And, if you're honest, that flattery strikes far lower.

You shift on the couch, suddenly too warm and craving friction. Elidibus leans forward, mouth open to ask--to invite--when his pocket beeps. Pausing, his brows descend in a perplexed frown.

"My apologies, I must take this." Saucer on the coffee table, he sweeps away to the kitchen, pulling out an expensive looking phone on the way. You shift again, arousal sparked and left to lie, and jump as you find a hand at your knee.

"There are other benefits to joining us, should you be interested." Nabriales fairly leers, tongue flicking out against one of his pointed canines. Invitation finally made clear, he strokes painted nails down the top of your thigh, pausing for permission to continue.

He waits there, fingers dimpling the fabric of your clothes, an oh so tempting vision leaning over your legs. You swallow your interest, projecting an unaffected expression though you can feel warmth coiling in your gut.

"I could use a hand getting these off." You gesture to your boots, buying time for Elidibus to return. "Can't well get cleaned up with boots on."

Mouth quirking up, Nabriales moves off the couch to crouch between your legs. Placing a hand at your ankle, he brings one foot up to rest on his knee, checking back for approval as your face begins to burn indecently. Down on one knee before you, Nabriales could easily be performing a far more lewd service than removing boots. You focus on his earrings, glinting darkly in the soft light, anything to avoid falling further for his alluring expressions.

"I've been dreaming of having you here." Nabriales purrs, meticulously unlacing your boots before working them off. He focuses on his task, head mercifully bent, keeping him from noticing your deepening blush at the act of service.

"Must you lust after everything that moves, Nabriales." Lahabrea sneers from his armchair, folding a purple bookmark to mark his page.

"Oh that's rich, coming from you, esteemed Speaker. As though you're not the one that's been obsessing over her since the Praetorium show. In fact, didn't you write the lyrics to Sabik with her in mind--?" Nabriales taunts back, grinning as the Speaker flushes a deep crimson. Starting out of his chair, you watch with blushing bemusement as Lahabrea jams a finger in Nabriales's unaffected face.

"How dare you. That is uncalled for, you can be replaced you know--"

"Gentlemen."

Elidibus leans on the back of the couch, long fingers tapping his displeasure. You jump at his silent approach, flushing at your compromised position with Nabriales still kneeling before you, one of your calves in his hands. Lahabrea stands just beside him, finger out in wagging admonishment.

"While any of us would be happy to monopolize you," Elidibus casts a heavy gaze at Nabriales, holding it until the brown-haired man turns away with a huff.  "What might you think instead of sharing?" 

The close proximity brings back the mens' cologne to mind, spice and bergamot melding together in complimentary fashion. To receive even one of their open attentions has flustered you beyond what even Thancred at peak flirting could manage. How would you survive four?

Yet you cannot deny you are interested.

"Is this part of your invitation, Elidibus?" You manage, voice level and betraying naught of your racing thoughts. His smile deepens just a mote, gaze steady on yours.

"Only if you wish it."

"And… What if I do accept and wish to share."

Grin widening in approval, Elidibus moves directly behind you, forcing you to twist to track him as he hovers close.

"Then we show you the best night of your life, as a prelude to more." Your heart races, pulse pounding as you absorb his bold declaration. With that kind of confidence, mayhaps monopolizing wouldn't be so bad--but, no, Nabriales's hand flexes on your thigh, drawing your attention to his eager smile. Standing stock still behind him, Lahabrea waits, frozen, for your decision. 

"Then, ah," You gulp, closing your eyes briefly to center yourself. The pulse of awakened arousal, low and distracting, mingles with the prospect of performing with the Ascians again, and again, and again. A bright future, surrounded by experienced individuals willing to share. A fulfilling schedule that by all means promises to see you well sated musically and in other, oft neglected, ways. It almost sounds too good to be true, but you squash that thought with the memory of Lahabrea's adorable blush when called out on his harmonizing. And, if nothing else, you reassure yourself, you'll be able to measure and acquire their skills for yourself.

"I would be happy to accept."

Elidibus's smile shows teeth as he leans in. "Excellent. I am most pleased to welcome you to the ranks of the Ascians, dear Warrior." His breath fans your cheek, drawing close, until his lips press in a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Turning, you catch his lips with your own, startling a pleased hum from him as you meet his mouth in a heated kiss. Elidibus's lips are soft, pressing and parting from you in gentle exploration. Faintly you taste the colorless lip balm he uses, vanilla sitting lightly on your tongue along with his natural tea-like flavor. 

Firm fingers assail your calves as Nabriales wrests your boots free. Caressing the muscle, he pushes your stocking down, baring your skin to his ministrations. He nips a line from your ankle to your knee, hands kneading your foot in gentle massage as his teeth scrape a wanton path up your leg. Humming as he goes, you cannot help but shiver as his facial hair brushes against the sensitized skin. 

Elidibus claims your lips, bending your torso back along the couch as he stands behind you. Long fingers frame your face, securing you in place as he plunders your mouth like a man starved. You reciprocate, tasting him just as earnestly, so long since you've had a moment, a partner, to yourself.

Stretched between the two, you tremble as the couch dips to your side under the weight of another. Quietly under the sound of lapping tongues, familiar gloved hands skirt the edge of your blouse, fingertips skimming underneath to tease at the skin below. You jerk, ticklish moment turned wanting as Lahabrea dips below your waistband, stretching the material to stroke at your navel. His other hand moves to the front of your blouse, clever fingers flicking the buttons free to bare your chemise and heaving chest to their view.

You squirm under the combined attentions, all pleasing but none providing the friction you crave between your legs. Hooking a knee over Nabriales's shoulder, you squeeze him close, closer, thighs trembling to meet were he not sandwiched between them. His chuckle at your desperate motion grazes that delectable facial hair high against your inner thigh, so close to your apex, and has you whining into Elidibus's mouth from the near miss.

"You started without me?" Emet-Selch's voice is indignant, calling to mind a soaked cat. Lahabrea's hand on your abdomen stills, as does Nabriales's path up your inner thigh. Gently drawing your lip between his teeth, Elidibus sucks the tender skin until you're sure it's swollen, letting it slip away as he straightens up to face Emet-Selch. You loll your head to watch, curious and kiss-drunk, as the warmth of the other two keeps you pinned to the couch.

Tousled hair still wet, Emet-Selch cuts an impressive figure, his shirt entirely missing. Your eyes drag along his muscled torso, lean swimmer's build lending him a height the others lack against your Elezen borne self. He scowls impressively, eyes narrowed in irritation. 

"So good of you to join us Emet-Selch. As you may have surmised, she has agreed to sharing." A hungry light sparks in Emet-Selch's golden eyes at Elidibus's pronouncement, fixing his blown pupils on you as you lounge within ravishing range. 

"Is that so." He purrs, gliding over to join the white-suited man behind you. 

"Yes." You rasp, voice thoroughly lost to the evening. An ardent smile to match his own lights your face, curious how his drummer's musculature will compare to the others. Arousal pulsing low, you really don't care which of them addresses that growing need, so long as it is seen to swiftly. 

"Though if all you intend to do is touch I will be most put out." Lahabrea's fingers curl into your abdomen at your comment, glancing up at Elidibus for a cue. 

"If that is what you desire--"

"We are happy to oblige." Nabriales completes Elidibus's statement, smiling roguishly from between your legs. 

"Elidibus, you had first take of the Elezen last time--" Emet-Selch interjects as the white-suited man rounds the couch to sit at your side opposite Lahabrea. 

"Your point?" 

Emet-Selch balks, snowy locks glistening under the sconces’ light. 

"Surely it behooves you to lead by example and share."

Elidibus pauses, head tilted birdlike in thought, before nodding slowly. Poised to surge forward and steal your lips, Emet-Selch frowns with dismay as Elidibus holds out a hand to stop him before speaking.

"A decent point, and fairly won. Lahabrea," Elidibus meets his cohort's startled gaze. "You are welcome to start." 

Rolling your head to look at the Speaker, you note his downcast eyes avoiding you, yet pink stains his ears visible amongst his waves of aurum hair. A smile quirks your lips at the sight, and you lean forward to cup his jawline, drawing him forward. 

"It, ah, has been some time for me." You blush at the confession, necessary to voice before you continue, but embarrassing nonetheless. Lahabrea's eyes flick up to meet yours, soft with the admittance you've given him. "Will you go slow with me?" 

His hand on your abdomen resumes its movement, skimming low.

"Of course." Some of his familiar sneer wends its way back through his voice, arrogance as though to say of course you'll be tended to, his pride will allow for nothing less. 

"On his lap, then, dear songstress." Nabriales speaks up from between your legs, smirk solidly in place as he maneuvers free of your grasp with a cheeky pat to your knee. "He may have first take, but that's not to say he'll rouse you alone." 

You move obligingly, intimate ache growing unbearable from their build up and breaks. 

Lahabrea sinks back into the couch, pulling you into his lap. Your back nestles into his chest, his breath lifting you in slow rounds. His gloved hands resume their exploration under your chemise as you adjust your legs to mirror his, his arousal abruptly apparent as he grinds against your rear. 

Surrounding you, the other men move in sensual synchronicity. Elidibus takes up position at your side again as Emet-Selch moves to mirror him. Nabriales kneels once more before you, this time lending his weight to pin your hips to the man underneath you. As one they set to stripping you of your remaining raiment, gentle hands followed by gentle lips leaving you writhing for more in their grasp. Lahabrea loses his pants, stiff cock resting along the curve of your rear. 

Panting you grind back back against him, craving more, to be filled within as you're enveloped in the Ascian's attentions without. Elidibus lends his clever tongue to tweak your breast, nipple brought to an aching peak in moments. On your other side, Emet-Selch nibbles a line along your ear, kindling a wanton heat below as he targets your erogenous zones with unerring accuracy. You hiss and buck into air at the pinch of his teeth along the rim of your ear, unable to help your reaction to his exploitation of an Elezen's weakness. 

"So responsive," Lahabrea murmurs, voice breathy as his hands grasp at your hips. "A stirring sight to behold. Now, you will sing for us." 

Nabriales lifts you from below, Elidibus grasping Lahabrea's cock to line him against your folds. You shout, the bulbous head of him rubbing over your clit, already soaked through from their persistent attentions. With measured care, Nabriales lowers you back onto Lahabrea's lap, ilm by controlled ilm. 

You moan, long and lowly, as his length stretches you ever so pleasantly. Lahabrea's breath puffs on your back as he sinks into you, quiet groan nearly lost amongst his cohorts' distracting pleasures. 

Emet-Selch moves his mouth from your ear down your neck, laving a path, pausing to suck waymarks into your skin. As you fully seat yourself on Lahabrea's cock, the Speaker rolls his hips, slowly for your comfort. Taking advantage of your blissful distraction, Nabriales leans forward to spread the front of your folds wide. He runs a calloused pad over your exposed intimacy, and you keen and clench hard around Lahabrea as Nabriales rubs at your clit. Legs shuddering, Nabriales denies you their closure, splaying you open for his attentions as he lowers his wicked smile to your slick. 

Hands cross your body to claim every ilm they touch, working long neglected flesh to a frenzy of arousal. You buck as Emet-Selch bites into your shoulder, rough handling summoning a sublime spike of pleasure. You whine as Elidibus coaxes your breasts to sensitive peaks, lavishing attention on both with tongue and twinned fingers ready to pinch. And below, oh below. 

Lahabrea thrusts up into you, hands braced at your hips as his chest hair rubs delightful ribbons of friction into your back. Jolting you in place, his cock stretches you in rounds, curvature particularly suited to rubbing your most sensitive walls on each stroke. 

At the front of your apex sits Nabriales, facial hair abrading your inner thighs until they buzz from the friction, but that sweet sensation pales in comparison to the impassioned assault his tongue inflicts. Laving lines over your clit as Lahabrea drives into you, you writhe. Four sets of hands brace you, four melodic voices praise you, and four pairs of eyes gaze upon you, enraptured, as you shriek your release. 

Shuddering, your head lolls onto Emet-Selch's shoulder, panting at the strength of your pleasure as warm lassitude washes over you. Behind you Lahabrea groans, experiencing your tremors in intimate first hand. Elidibus murmurs glowing compliments, head pillowed on your chest as his hand descends to lace with Lahabrea's. Before you, Nabriales merely smirks, your slick coating his chin. His tongue darts out to sample the glistening moisture in a lewd display, proudly peacocking under your bleary gaze. 

"Wh-wh--" You exhale, trying to catch your breath as Lahabrea stills his thrusts, hard length resting within you. 

"Just like that, yes." Lahabrea expels a shakey sigh, unclaimed hand moving to hug you round your waist.

"Not that I wish to contest Lahabrea's turn," Emet-Selch drawls from beside you, eyes blown wide with lust. "But perhaps we might find accommodations more comfortable in the master bedroom?" 

Still firmly seated within you, you jolt with a yelp as Lahabrea's hard cock twitches in interest. Emet-Selch chuckles at that, eyeing Lahabrea's flushed face as he turns to tuck his cheek against your sweat streaked back. 

"Emet-Selch." Elidibus grinds out, lifting his silken head from your chest to accost his cohort's teasing. 

"It was merely a suggestion." He shrugs, shaking his head dramatically. 

"Oh I don't know, we could bring her again just like that on Lahabrea's lap until he has his turn. The bed is better for all of us, if she's to share." Nabriales runs his fingers along the back of your leg, smile turning genuinely delighted as you twitch at the ticklish touch. You feel the warmth suffusing your limbs spark into feverish desire at his words, appetite rising. Tentatively, you grind your hips back, and relish the inarticulate gasp it wrings from the Speaker. His length jostles within you against that deep point of pleasure, and you roll your hips again, chasing that sweet spot that has spots blooming behind your eyes. 

"A-h-ha! M-more please--" You ride Lahabrea in earnest, thrusting back to take him deeply. The other men's murmurings fade until there is only you, and Lahabrea, intimately joined. His hips rise to meet you, thrusting harshly as you roll back to meet him, taking him deep.

Deeper. 

Until your back bows with the force of your orgasm, arching into him as he bucks into you with a few hurried strokes more, chasing his own release. With a groan he finds it, curling to hold you tight as his length pulses within you. 

Slowly your surroundings come back into focus, your breath ringing loud in your ears. Significantly fewer clothes remain on the Ascians around you, Emet-Selch slowly pumping his length in hand. The sight of him on display sends another pang of arousal straight to your still shuddering core, and you gasp at the intensity.

"Bed?"

"Yes, the bed." Elidibus's voice is hoarse, but his hands are gentle as ever as they lift you in tandem with Nabriales off the trembling Speaker. Emet-Selch offers an arm to Lahabrea, elegant bow technically perfect for a ballroom, as the other two escort you down the hall Emet-Selch had vanished down earlier. You pass open doors, their contents a blur, stopping only as you reach the final door in the hall. A wet footprint heralds Emet-Selch's passage, and Nabriales nudges the door open to reveal a truly decadent master suite. The trail of wet footprints leads back to another door within, glimpse of tile enough to tell you the bathroom lies that way. Before you is the true centerpiece of the room, an enormous bed, cushions and pillows scattered across its expanse. Plush coverlets adorn its surface, color scheme themed unsurprisingly around Ascian purples. 

Leaning heavily on the two men, you make it to the bed, gently set down on the soft bedspread as your legs begin to wobble in earnest. You blink rapidly, reaching for some form of equilibrium as your body trembles with aftershocks of your release, and find it hard to come by as exquisite warmth permeates every thread of your being. The quiet hush of clothing hitting the floor brings your head up, and your jaw drops at the sight. 

Before you stands two visions made manifest. Elidibus, with his silver hair his only covering, lean form soft, with muscle a tantalizing hint as he approaches. At his opposite stands Nabriales, form meticulously chiseled and carved into a modern Adonis. Hard planes decorated with a trimmed smattering of hair leads your gaze unerringly down to his erect member. Smiling wickedly, he crawls to you on the bed, nuzzling into your neck like an affectionate cat.

"How are you feeling, dear songstress? Ready for another round?"

Your heart jumps at his touch, warmth from his breath fanning over your newly sore kiss marked throat. Heat begins to pool in your navel brought on by the scent of him, rich and loamy, thyme and sandalwood both. He toys with your marks, kissing them softly, worshipful attention in every touch. 

"Ah-hmm." You hum, leaning in to Nabriales. 

"That is not an answer, dear Warrior." Elidibus admonishes, sidling up to bracket you between them. You groan and lean into him in turn, seeking the warmth of their form. 

"I would like to have you, both of you, yes." Your confession wrings a new blush across your ears. Elidibus's arms come to rest around your waist, comforting, tracing circles on the bruises beginning to blossom there. On your other side, Nabriales loops an arm around your shoulder, snugging you tight to his side as his hand walks its way to the crease at your hips. There it lingers, before delving to your folds. 

"You are wonderfully wet, dear songstress." Nabriales purrs in your ear. Shifting to pull you down beneath him, he traces a reverant path down to your hips.

"You are nearly tall enough to--hmm, I wonder…" Elidibus trails off, watching you settle under Nabriales's cock. "What would you say to servicing me as Nabriales takes you?"

Eyes wide, you look to Elidibus, face pensive and unruffled. A perverse urge strikes you, to see his reserve crumble, and you respond before you can consider further.

"Yes." Your heated words affect Nabriales as well, his fondling suddenly turned firm, breath hitching as he flips you facedown on the bed. Elidibus kneels by your head, cock pressed delicately against your cheek as he watches you with intent eyes. As you open wide to taste him, a lilting voice calls out from the door.

"Starting without me again, I really must protest." Emet-Selch strides in, Lahabrea tucked in his arms and flailing with displeasure.

"Unhand me I said! This is undignified--"

"Yes, yes, and when you fall over again from numb legs I will be scolded for not babying you further. Hush and sit, this position promises to be an excellent watch."

You startle as Nabriales nudges against your entrance, glancing up to see his lips thinned with restraint. Long fingered hands brace your shoulders as the bed bounces, remaining two Ascians joining you. Grumbling, Lahabrea arranges himself off to a side, wrapped in one of the coverlets. Emet-Selch by contrast, leans back against the headboard, pulling cushions to him until he reclines on a small pillowy throne. Duly arranged, he pumps himself with a slow roll of his wrist, gesturing to you imperiously as you stare at his shameless display.

"Well, go ahead. I'm here now. Unless, that is, you wanted me involved in this round?" 

Nabriales scoffs, giving you a glance to confirm you are fine as is, and receives a nod from you as you break eye contact with the provocative drummer. Grasping your hips, Nabriales ruts his cock through your folds, brushing your clit on each thrust. As you feel your slick start dripping anew, he withdraws, lining up against your entrance. Pushing in slowly, you both groan as you adjust to his size. Shorter than Lahabrea, his girth proves the wider, filling you with a satisfaction that has you curling your toes. 

Gentle fingers tap your cheek, and you raise yourself up to Elidibus's lap. Eyes level with his stiff member, you observe the flushed tip for a long moment before opening up. He eases into your mouth slowly, grasping your hair as you swallow reflexively, lips closing to seal around his cock. 

You moan as Nabriales begins to move, each thrust sending you into Elidibus's lap. In turn Elidibus anchors your head, clever fingers dancing over your sensitive ears, massaging their points and drawing needy mewls from your throat. His smile shows teeth again at the helpless sounds that escape your throat. Nabriales's thick length filling you distracts you for a moment, mind shorting out at the delicious stretch, before you fumble back to your senses. 

Rolling your eyes up to watch Elidibus, you swirl your tongue, hollowing your cheeks to pull at his length as he gently fucks into your mouth. He gasps as you focus on him, quiet inhalation a good start, but you want more. Nabriales sends you into his lap every few moments, short thrusts making good use of his girth. You quickly learn to capitalize on his provided motion, rocking forward with him to take Elidibus deeply, and relaxing into his hold on your hips as he withdraws. Elidibus's fingers clench in your hair, tugging slightly, as you manage to please him particularly well--a small sign of his eroding control. 

You feel your core tightening as Nabriales thrusts into you, entrance stretched to accommodate his girth on every roll of his hips. Shuddering, your orgasm snaps through you, moan stifled by the cock in your mouth. Nabriales keeps thrusting, however, guiding you through one sharp release into another, tension snapping you like a bowstring. You yowl around the cock in your mouth, Elidibus groaning as he holds your head steady, mouth angled just so for him to slide in, and in, and in until you cough, tapping his thigh for a reprieve. Magnanimous, he grants it, blush starting to pink his cheeks with color.

Scattered from your successive orgasms, Nabriales still working you in a rhythm, you are almost ready to concede defeat and pressure Elidibus's composure another time, when you see his eyes flicker shut as he gives over. Rising slightly, he begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, hips rolling to bury himself as Nabriales pushes you forward. Filled so thoroughly at both ends, you simply brace yourself, tightening coil of pleasure threatening to obliterate your remaining thoughts. With your lingering will, you suck and nip and swirl your tongue over Elidibus, and clench trembling muscle as Nabriales hilts within. The men groan in tandem, a third joining the wanton chorus, and you spare a quick look to observe Emet-Selch. 

Splayed out on the pillows like a debauched king of old, Emet-Selch is flushed all the way down to his chest, panting, cock hard and straining in his hand. Precum glistens at his tip, and is smeared along his length in prodigious amounts. Your eyes flicker shut, image burned into your mind, painted on the back of your eyelids as you devote the rest of your rational thought to bringing Elidibus to completion. 

Nabriales picks up the pace, pounding into you, breath growing ragged. The heat at your core continues to grow, every slam of Nabriales's hips, every press of Elidibus's cock to the back of your throat, stokes it ever higher, ever tighter, winding you up like a spring. Elidibus's grip is like iron, holding your head steady, and you revel in the whimpers he cannot suppress as you swallow and swirl his head as he thrusts into you. 

With a groan, Nabriales buries himself in you, cock pulsing and the press of his girth in such intimate caress sets you off. Back bowing in a sublime arc, you howl, fighting Elidibus's grip as he moans, lets go of you, his release running down your front in a warm spatter. Stars blot out your vision as pleasure wracks your form, sight returning slowly, room suddenly sideways. 

"And that was just physical." You hear Nabriales pant. "Imagine how the--"

"Hsst!" An arm emerges from the blur to thump the man across his midsection, cutting off his commentary as he gasps for breath.

Warm hands turn you over, a soft cloth cleaning the mess made, as your limbs do their best impression of jello. You're not sure you could move if you wanted, heavy lassitude sinking deep into your bones. Dredging your eyes open, you see Emet-Selch slumped in similar fashion, eyes half lidded as he watches you, a peculiar warmth in his eyes. The cool cloth returns, and you see Elidibus and Lahabrea both tending to the marks and mess they've left staining your skin. 

With a playful whump, Nabriales lays out beside you, pulling a coverlet up. Blinking slowly, you take in his beaming smile, his furnace like warmth, and close your eyes. Additional warm limbs stretch to hold you, claiming a shoulder, a leg, your waist--the men arranging themselves in your orbit taking care to not crowd you. 

You snuggle against the nearest side, spurring a pleased murmur, providing wordless comfort and company. Their heartbeat sounds loud in your ears, soothing, the steady beat lulling you to sleep. Your breathing evens out, cradled close to the men who've given you such pleasure freely, and a small voice in your mind floats a last worry to mar your sleep.

What would the Scions say.

As you relax nested in the Ascians' bed surrounded by such creature comforts, you find that you no longer care, and drop off to a dreamless sleep.