Emmanellain bursting into the Fortemps manor in search for his brothers was nothing new. What was new was his attire, a deep blue seasonal robe, a bit short, in Artoirel’s opinion, paired with dark tights and fitted, matching thigh-boots. He grinned with pure delight, his hands hidden behind his back, no doubt planning something mischievous.
“Merry Starlight, my dear brothers! Please, open your gifts!” He cheered, thrusting his arms forward, a small, red box in the palms of his hands, one for each of his siblings.
Haurchefant chuckled as he took his gift, while Artoirel quirked a brow as he followed suit. The two pulled off the top of the box to reveal a small remote cushioned by velvet padding. Haurchefant took his remote into his hand, turning it over to examine it closely. It was a simple contraption, Halone forbid he fiddle with anything more complex than this, with only a pair of buttons, arrows facing in opposite directions.
“Now, I’m sure you both are just dying to know what I have gotten you, so–” Before Emmanellain could finish, a moan tore through his throat. His knees buckled, and the rest of his body soon followed, shivering as if a cool breeze blew through the estate. Yet Emmanellain looked feverish, the tips of his ears flushed and twitching. If he were a better man, he would have been concerned, but instead, he was incredibly hard. Such a sight was reserved for their chambers, but here Emmanellain was, nearly on the brink of collapsing and looking so beautiful while doing it.
The sound of Artoirel clearing his throat ripped his eyes away. Despite the sight before him, he was obedient. He may drool and whine like a dog, but he always retained his loyalty to his dear eldest. Artoirel held his remote in his hand, his thumb pointedly resting upon the upper arrow. How many times it was pressed, he could not say, but no matter the number, it had Emmanellain writhing.
“A vibrator, of Garlean make, I’d assume. I see why you were so insistent on an extra helping of your allowance,” he spoke, so confident and knowing, as he pressed the button once more. Emmanellain threw a hand up, moments away from biting his fist, but the sheer jolt that shook up his spine had him kneeling. Artoirel only then looked over at Haurchefant, lifting his head with that pointed stare of his, and Haurchefant knew that he was expected to do the same. So he did, and Emmanellain fell onto his hands then, his robe slipping past his thighs as he raised his ass, revealing slick already wetting the fabric that clung to his lower half. “Thankfully, for you, the servants have left for the day. We have much to unwrap of our gift, don’t we, dear brother?”
Haurchefant couldn’t agree more.
“I know you— mmh. Don’t particularly celebrate Starlight any longer, but you— ah— could have let me gotten you something.”
How Jannequinard was unable to keep quiet even with a cock in his ass was beyond Carvallain. Typical, really.
“There isn’t anything I need,” Except for his brother to moan ever so beautifully as he angled his hips, and what a pretty noise he got from doing just so, indeed, “I’m a difficult man to buy for, beloved.”
Jannequinard seemed content with that, at the very least. He leaned forward to capture the pirate’s lips into a lazy kiss as he spilled into Carvallain’s hand, still riding away with the steady rhythm of a professional Chocobo jockey. Professional whore, more like it. Carvallain did his best to keep his jealousy in check, envy was no good for a pirate nor a lover, even if Jannequinard insisted otherwise for the latter. Fury knows what would happen if the wrong person knew of his greatest treasure. He couldn’t risk being as physical with Jannequinard as he wished, especially in the public eye.
When Jannequinard first made himself known to Carvallain, he was hesitant to believe it was truly his brother. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had introduced themselves as some Ishgardian noble to "reclaim" some of their stolen goods (Limsans really should never attempt an Ishgardian accent), though it would be the first to deign themselves as a Durendaire.
...It was strange to see Jannequinard had fully grown into a young man, a fine one, if he had to say. No longer were his ears too long for his round face, legs too long for his fragile frame. He filled out the flowing robes of his profession well, broad shoulders and sharp features, and he was aware of it, obnoxiously so. It put Carvallain at ease that his absence didn’t appear to affect him at length, on the surface. That is until he started to come onto him— which he was quite surprised by on all accounts. He remembered a young, timid Jannequinard who clung to his side and told him of the stars, and in front of him stood a man of astromancy trying to get his rocks off.
He should have refused. He did, at first, but… Jannequinard was persistent and still, unfortunately, a cute, irresistible, and stubborn little brother in his eyes who never took "no" as an answer. While Jannequinard stayed in Limsa for the time being, the two kept their relationship as bedfellows, and it was only until the astrologian was moments away from boarding his ship back home did Carvallain, for the first time, reveal his true identity. That was the end of that, or, it was supposed to be, until a fortnight later Jannequinard returned by his lonesome with a "big brother-shaped hole in his heart", as he put it. Since then, Jannequinard made Limsa Lominsa a monthly vacation spot, and Carvallain was happy enough to be a decent tour guide. It was nice, he supposed, to reunite with family, even if it was in a way that Halone would smite him for—
“Excuse me, Captain Carvallain? I’m still in need of your finest seed, thank you.”
He rolled his eyes, then his hips. Insatiable harlot. Though, Carvallain wouldn’t have it any other way.