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Fic: First Date (FFXII, Ba'Gamnan/Balthier)
FFXII fic! Like something out of the past, I know! I've had something like 3.5k words of this... forever. The Google Docs timestamp on this said I hadn't worked on it at all for exactly six months. >_>

But I thought about it today, and so I thought I'd poke at it and see if I could finish it. Because, you see - and this is the part where you all get to laugh at me - this was supposed to be laylah's birthday present last year. orz

Happy day-belated birthday, laylah! Have some year-and-a-day belated bangaa porn. With bonus adventure! ^^;

Final Fantasy XII, Ba'Gamnan/Balthier. ~4k (!!!) words. Not worksafe, warning for xeno.
Balthier might not be used to all this yet, but he knows the opening to a business proposition when he hears one.

First Date

"I hear tell you have an airship."

The growling voice made Balthier tense. He still wasn't used to interacting with bangaa or seeq—there hadn't been many in Archades. Certainly none in Central.

But Balthier was a man of the world now, so he forced himself to relax as he turned. Besides, he knew the opening to a business proposition when he heard one.

"You hear correctly." Balthier smiled his potential-client smile at the bangaa. "And a better ship you'll not find. Balthier, sky pirate extraordinaire, at your service. You have a job for me?" He gestured to the bar stool next to him and the bangaa took a seat with a grunt.

"I have a job, that much is true." He gestured to the barman, who responded more quickly than Balthier had ever seen. "Killer mantis ichor." The barman moved away. Balthier steadfastly did not wonder if the drink was the name of a cocktail, or entirely literal.

The bangaa turned back to him with a glare. "But the job is mine, do you understand? I only talk to you because I've a need for transportation that can't be met otherwise."

"Aha." Balthier said warily, and took a sip of his own ale as an opaque pitcher was set in front of his companion's snout. "What's the nature of this job, then? And the pay?"

"A bounty," came the growl. "That's all you need know. You take me where I say, and in return you get a quarter of the profit. A substantial chunk of gil, I assure you."

"Ah," Balthier said again, and steeled his nerves. "I'm afraid I don't work that way. Either I'm a partner in the job, you let me know all the details, and I get half of the bounty, or I get paid a set fee. Since you won't even tell me what sort of trouble I'd be getting into, the fee would be, shall we say... twenty thousand gil per day."

The bangaa stared at him for a moment, and Balthier cursed the fact that he couldn't read the alien face. A glare he could handle, but he couldn't tell if the set of his long jaw meant he was considering Balthier's offer or just considering the best way to dispose of his body discreetly.

Finally the stare broke as the bangaa's mouth fell open in something like a bark. Balthier flinched before he realized he was laughing. Well, cackling, really.

"A partnership, then!" His clawed hand wrapped around the handle of his mug. "A toast to things to come. To profit for us both!" Balthier obligingly rose his ale to clink against the other mug, and downed the rest of his drink.

The bangaa's lips glistened with a viscous dark fluid before he licked it away.

Balthier cleared his throat. "Shall we begin with exactly who I'm partnered to?"

The rings on the bangaa's snout dug into the scales of his lower lip as his mouth curled in a grin. "Call me Ba'Gamnan."

Ba'Gamnan revealed the job to be bounty hunt given by the Rozarrians, as he tersely shared the details; the man had fled to Archadia, and it seemed headhunters were cheaper than diplomacy.

"I need no help tracking him, of course. I could find a mouse in a city of rats from ten miles away, and I have contacts that can do better. But the man has a ship, and he can pick up and leave as soon as I make a move."

"Well." Balthier said, turning his mug around in his hands. "So I am but a glorified ferry, then."

"That would be ideal," Ba'Gamnan growled. "But you talked your way into more than that, so you're coming on the hunt." He flashed long rows of teeth in what was probably a grin. "Don't die."

"Excellent. I shall endeavor not to." Balthier placed his mug back on the counter along with a few coins. "Shall we be off, then? Where do we begin?"

***

They stopped at what felt like every aerodrome and safe anchor point in the Archadian Empire before they caught up with the man. He was as jumpy as an Ozmone hare, and he took off in his modified Atomos at the merest breath of trouble. It took the better part of a week, and Balthier began to wonder if the bounty would be worth his time. Perhaps he was doomed to forever track this ghost, catching bare hours of sleep in the Strahl or in dusty inns before Ba'Gamnan was knocking, rousing him to leave for another port on rumors or some scent in the wind.

It was in Bhujerba that they found him. They were actually in the city before he landed; Balthier thought it entirely possible that they managed that purely by chance, a step ahead in the ridiculous shell game.

They had just begun questioning a seeq when the Ba'Gamnan broke off mid-snarl to turn away. He grabbed Balthier's shoulder and pulled him a dozen strides down the street before he spoke, his voice a low growl.

"I heard the engines of an Atomos landing. We've got him."

Balthier wanted to say: because no one else on the continent flies an Atomos? But he was exhausted, and antagonism for it's own sake lacked a certain appeal, so he just blinked and followed. He'd prefer it if Ba'Gamnan was right, anyway.

They caught him coming out of the aerodrome. Or Balthier presumed it was him—he only caught a glimpse before the main abruptly changed course at the sight of them, couldn't tell if he matched the description they'd be given. But Ba'Gamnan's nostrils flared and he bared his teeth.

"Idiot. There's no way to escape down that way. Stand guard here," the bangaa rasped before continuing down around the corner, his stride a predatory swagger. Balthier nodded and positioned himself at the mouth of the alley to wait.

His brain was dulled enough that he wasn't certain how much time passed before a sudden loud crack broke him from his reverie. He took a few abortive steps forward, stopping when he saw a wisp of smoke curl around the bend of wall ahead of him.

An explosion? This man has that much artillery? But no—as the wind shifted he caught a faint bitter scent, and his subconscious kicked up an answer before he knew to look for it. An escape hand bomb—not a weapon, as such, but a combination of smoke to block vision and a bitter oil to stymie bangaa's primary sense as well. He'd heard of them before, though the method was a bit inelegant for his tastes.

But if the man was trying to escape—

The man rounded the corner stumbling, and as he looked up his eyes met Balthier's. All at once Balthier knew two things: First, this man had gotten little if any more sleep than Balthier over the past few days. Second, that hardly mattered, for he outmassed Balthier half again and could easily force his way past him.

Dramatic escapes notwithstanding, up until this point Balthier had only used his gun to fight beasts and monsters. Nevertheless, it took him bare seconds to have it readied and pointed steadily at the man's chest.

"I suggest you not go any further." Balthier was surprised at how firm and cold his voice came out.

"I—You can't shoot me! Sh—Surely you're more reasonable than that bangaa back there. Whoever wants me probably wants me in one piece." The man stammered and edged to the side.

He doesn't even know who's after him? Bad form, thought Balthier absurdly. "That would be most convenient, I suppose. However, there were no stipulations as to the condition of said piece." A blatant lie, but it came out as easily as breathing. The man's eyes widened and he froze.

Their standoff held for several long seconds. Slowly, Balthier realized that he in truth had no mechanism for taking the man down short of shooting him; approaching close enough for physical combat seemed unwise. As the time continued to stretch without incident, the man looked heartened as Balthier continued to refrain from depositing a barrel-full of shot in his chest.

Eventually he straightened, panic mostly gone from his eyes as they darted about the alley. "You're bluffing."

"I—" Balthier started, but he had no idea what he would have said next, because at that point Ba'Gamnan came stumbling around the corner. Balthier's face must have shown something, because the man half-turned just in time for a solid strike to his head.

Ba'Gamnan slung his limp body over his shoulder. "Bastard."

"You could have just restrained him. He might have fatal injuries, and then all this is for nothing," Balthier said to cover himself as he pulled his wits back together and returned his gun to its sling.

"Ha! And I suppose you'd have convinced him to come quietly back to the ship?"

When it was put that way, Balthier could hardly argue.

"You can tend to his injuries if you think them to be so harsh." A bangaa's voice was well-suited for biting condescension, as Balthier had learned well these past days.

Balthier eyed the man's body warily. "On second thought, I don't doubt your superior experience in these matters. I'm sure he'll be in adequate health."

***

They transported the man to the Strahl in fairly short order. Balthier restrained the man, still unconscious, in the small cargo hold. As he returned from the task, he contemplated absently how few people seemed to ask questions of a heavily armed bangaa carrying a man unconscious over his shoulder.

Barely had his feet landed on the plating of the main deck before they were removed again, as a forcible shove made him stumble.

By the time he raised his eyes Ba'Gamnan had him backed against a bulkhead of his airship, and Balthier wondered all of a sudden why he hadn't anticipated betrayal. Ba'Gamnan's face was as inscrutable as usual, but his eyes burned.

Then he leaned close, snout by his neck. Balthier thought frantically: He's going to bite me! Then—That's ridiculous. Do bangaa even have sharp teeth? But instead Ba'Gamnan licked him, a slow, too-long stroke from the top of his collar to behind his ear, and then across the shell of it, and suddenly Balthier's pants were entirely too uncomfortable for the situation.

"Wait," he said before he realized it. Then he attempted to form the words to continue. "Wait, I'm—"

"Not interested in bangaa? Exclusive to humes, are you?" Ba'Gamnan's voice was even lower and rougher than usual.

Of course I am! Balthier thought, though his new pirate instincts restrained his voice. He had honestly never thought about his expanded interaction with the lesser races going quite this far, and part of him screamed that restraint was entirely unnecessary in this instance. "Not—I don't see how that's relevant." Balthier said instead, then flushed and tried again. "The reasons for my refusal are quite superfluous to the issue." Ba'Gamnan snorted.

"Your reasons are false, whatever they are," he growled, and pressed his huge palm to Balthier's groin. Balthier's legs jerked, pushing him forward, off balance.

When his muscles responded to him again, he flattened himself back against the wall. Ba'Gamnan just moved with him. Close up, he seemed hugely much broader and taller, and he fairly loomed over Balthier. Tendons shifted under scales as his wrist flexed, rubbing Balthier through his leather.

Balthier forced himself to look away and concentrate on blood flow to his brain. That turned out to be a mistake when he felt a tug at his belt.

Blind panic shot through him. "Stop," he managed, reasonably firmly. "We have a bounty sitting in my hold. We should get our gil and..." Balthier's mouth ran dry. He licked his lips, feeling unreasonably lewd about it in such close proximity, "...then we can celebrate," he finished eventually, hedging.

For a moment nothing happened, except Ba'Gamnan's nostrils flaring.

Finally Ba'Gamnan broke the silence with a bark. "Hah!" He shifted away. "Priorities after my own."

Balthier took several deep breaths. "I'll set our course, then," he said neutrally, sliding carefully past Ba'Gamnan towards the cockpit.


***

He had no idea how long he slept before he jerked awake suddenly, panicked, sure in his bones that he was letting their quarry was get away again. It took a few seconds of staring into the darkness of the room—where Ba'Gamnan wasn't, no bangaa waking him with a snarl—to remember that they'd caught him. That they'd flown back to Rozarria, turned him in, and gotten their pay without incident. He seemed to recall Ba'Gamnan having to push the gil into his hands, which means he must have been terribly weary by then.

It took a few seconds longer to notice he'd fallen into bed with all his gear, and he managed to at least strip off his belt and shoes while his frantic pulse calmed. But then his fatigue returned, not as oppressive as before but still definitely there. He turned over and dropped back into sleep.

When he woke next, the light filtering through the tiny inn window was dim and slanted. It had been at most late morning when they had landed, so he must have slept for quite a while.

He was half-hard, and the snippets of dreams flashing in his brain—scales pressed against his bare skin—unsettled him. And reminded him of the part that hadn't been a dream.

Balthier attempted to push all of that out of his mind. It was no matter. The whole ordeal was over now, and he had other issues to address. Like counting his bounty money, which he did with careful precision. He was vaguely surprised to note that Ba'Gamnan hadn't cheated him, for Balthier doubted he'd have made the attempt to track the bangaa down even if he had. His gil purse was pleasantly heavy as he filled it.

Right. It was nearly dark now; not the best time to fly out. Well enough. He could keep the inn room for the night and return for more sleep after he picked up some supplies.

Starting with food, he thought, as he realized he'd not eaten all day, hunger hitting him all at once like the flat of a sword.

A vendor out in the plaza was serving some variety of meat in spiced sauce, wrapped in a sort of flatbread. Balthier would normally never have given her a second look on his way to finding food intended for a more refined palate—particularly when his finances were doing this well—but he found himself slowing. After an entirely-too-quick debate between his better judgment and his hunger, he found himself handing over a few coins.

There was no place to sit in the plaza, so he perched himself awkwardly on a stone wall as he attempted to eat carefully, wishing he had thought to fold back his cuffs before taking the food.

He had managed to make his way neatly through more than half of it when a voice from nearby broke his focus. His dismay at the drops of red liquid on his shirt nearly overwhelmed the recognition of the condescending voice speaking to him.

"I see you are well recovered then, Balthier?"

Nearly, but not entirely. After he coughed slightly and wiped sauce from his lip with the pad of his thumb, Balthier managed to look up at Ba'Gamnan's face with relative composure. "Quite well, thank you." He attempted to finish his meal with alacrity as he considered the situation with the clarity that sufficient sleep and nourishment brought.

Their job together was done; the fact that Ba'Gamnan was still around almost certainly meant he was he was... still interested. Balthier abruptly remebered his dream, in more detail than he felt was really necessary: Ba'Gamnan was above him, long fingers curled around his forearms, pinning them to the fabric below, as if the bangaa's sheer size hadn't been enough to prevent his escape. The weight of their bodies pressed Balthier's hard cock almost painfully into the mattress.

Balthier flushed, and Ba'Gamnan's nostrils flared. Balthier's heart jumped—how sensitive was a bangaa's sense of smell?

This was ridiculous. Balthier wasn't going to play the blushing virgin to Ba'Gamnan's ravishing rogue. He consumed the last bits of meat in his hand with vicious zeal and then dared to offer, "Shall we get something to drink? We're to be celebrating, correct? Sorry for the delay."

Ba'Gamnan's teeth flashed. "So we are."

***

The tavern they settle in is one of fairly high quality. Balthier makes a note of it and resolves to patronize it again should he find himself in the area, for he certainly isn't properly appreciating it now. The air is tense between them, whether because of Balthier's implicit promise or simply because they don't have much to converse about, and Balthier finds himself downing his drinks too quickly to really taste them. At least the quality means that they are highly alcoholic. A few drinks and he already feels pleasantly warm.

Then Ba'Gamnan looks at him steadily as he swallows the dregs, and Balthier feels several times warmer. He sets aside his mug carefully.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think that's probably enough of this particular activity. Shall we adjourn?"

"You have something else in mind?" Ba'Gamnan asks, his growling tone evoking memories in Balthier that are a bit inappropriate for this venue.

"I believe I do," Balthier says firmly. He pays his tab, and gestures to Ba'Gamnan to follow as he leads the way back to his inn room.

But even when they've arrived, Ba'Gamnan doesn't approach Balthier. He just observes as Balthier closes the door and sheds his gear in the dim light, head tilting and lips curving.

Balthier has clearly made his decision, but he doesn't really know what to do, with Ba'Gamnan just standing there. Still, he's not about to back down now. So he moves in, settles hands on Ba'Gamnan's neck. This is when he would kiss... but he has to shift away slightly, slide his hands up under Ba'Gamnan's ears, brushing scales the wrong way. And still the best he can to is to turn his head to the side, press his lips against the edge of Ba'Gamnan's mouth.

The bangaa's lips curl at the gesture, bearing teeth, and so Balthier licks inside the opened gap, tongue sliding across slick enamel. Ba'Gamnan's saliva tastes faintly iron-sharp, like blood, and of something bitter. After a few moments it makes Balthier feel dizzy, so he pulls away, mouths instead at the thick metal rings in his lip. He skims his hands back down scales, the feel remarkably smooth.

It's all so bizarre, so alien, and yet Balthier's breath is coming quickly already, his cock hardening in his pants. Ba'Gamnan snorts.

"Had a change of heart, have you?"

"My heart is hardly the organ at hand."

"Ha! Indeed." And then Ba'Gamnan moves, placing his palm on Balthier's abdomen and sliding it down to obligingly cup his groin once again. Long scaled fingers curl back between his legs. They feel cool even through the leather, and Balthier finds himself imagining what they would feel like on bare skin.

Ba'Gamnan's hand shifts again, and a clawed finger presses at his buckle. "Let's get you out of these, then."

"Let's" seems to mean him, so Balthier strips—putting his clothes carefully out of the way—and tries to ignore the way his heart is thudding rapidly at what's about to happen. Meanwhile, Ba'Gamnan rummages through his pack, like he's—well, of course he's looking for something. He pulls out a phail of something—something to fuck Balthier with, no doubt. Balthier stomps down on a new rush of panic.

Ba'Gamnan holds out the the phial, and Balthier takes it instinctively. "Open yourself up for me," he growls low—which makes sense, of course, looking at Ba'Gamnan fingers. So Balthier moves to lie face down on the bed, pours a bit of oil into his hand, and reaches around behind himself to work it in carefully. At some point he completely lost control of this situation. His cock is achingly hard.

Balthier pushes back onto his hand slightly, and Ba'Gamnan growls. Balthier hears the clink of a buckle, and he's almost afraid to look. Ba'Gamnan is built so much larger than he is

Nothing could have prepared him for what Balthier sees as he dares a glance over his shoulder. Ba'Gamnan has—bangaa have, he supposes, as the chances that Ba'Gamnan has a strange deformity is small—two cocks, pale flesh joined together where they meet his body. The tips are colored darker, mottled. It is almost too strange.

Then Ba'Gamnan moves closer to him, and Balthier's neck aches so he looks away. When Ba'Gamnan reaches the edge of the bed, the head of one of his cocks touches Balthier where his fingers are still pressed inside his ass.

The tip of it cock is hard and rough. Balthier removes his hand to touch it, and it feels like raw stone. He awkwardly palms the shaft, and it's smoother, more like skin, particularly where it rubs against the other. And each one is huge, but not—not completely out of the range for a hume.

"You can take one," Ba'Gamnan says. The tone of his voice is not a question—Balthier has to convince himself that it is only a statement, and not a threat. His cock jumps anyway.

"Yes," he says, and fumbles to hand the phial of oil back to Ba'Gamnan. "Do it."

It's good that Ba'Gamnan slicks himself well, for the press of the head feels like it will tear him apart going in. It doesn't, though, and then it's inside him, shifting, rubbing roughly at the soft skin inside—

"Ah," Balthier manages, as the textured head slides across the spot that makes him see sparks at the edges of his vision. His arms give out supporting him and his shoulders hit the bed.

"Hph," Ba'Gamnan grunts, and pushes in futher, futher, further, until he has to be completely inside, and the twin cock that's not inside Balthier is sliding forward against the back of his balls.

Balthier's breath comes short. His ass is stretched and aching, and his cock desperately wants attention but he's not sure he can manage to shift his weight to get a hand on himself.

"There. Being taken by a bangaa is like nothing else you'll know," Ba'Gamnan growls, low and arrogant. Whatever witty comeback Balthier might've managed is broken when he shifts a bit, and forgotten entirely when Ba'Gamnan reaches around to curl his hand easily around Balthier's cock. Ba'Gamnan's palm dwarfs his cock easily, and when Balthier thrusts forward into the grip his skin slides across tiny, cool, soft-slick scales. It's bizarre, and that might just take the edge off enough for him to last as Ba'Gamnan fucks him face-first into the mattress.

When Ba'Gamnan comes, it's only one cock that releases; the outside one brushing his skin stays dry. The sting as he pulls out almost brings Balthier back from the edge. But then Ba'Gamnan strokes his back with his free hand, down his spine to his ass, at the same time he brushes a scaled thumb over his length, and Balthier's shooting off hard and it's all he can do to keep his legs from giving out as well.

When Ba'Gamnan lets go and moves away Balthier gives in, just manages to roll away from his mess before lying sprawled and boneless.

"Did you—" but yes; Ba'Gamnan's twin cocks have not only softened, but appear to have half-retreated back into his body. Balthier blinks.

"Ha. I can give the other one to you in a few hours, if you like," Ba'Gamnan grins, and Balthier doesn't need to be an expert on bangaa to read that expression. His whole body aches at the idea.

"Some other time, perhaps," he manages. That was—probably quite enough adventure for a while. "I'm heading out in the morning. Did you need to be flown back somewhere?"

It's somewhat of a relief when Ba'Gamnan says, "No, I have other arrangements made." The bangaa buckles his trousers. "Although I shall certainly keep you in mind if I've need of ferry services again in the future."

"Pfft," Balthier's scoffs. His eyes are starting to droop again, so he's relieved to see Ba'Gamnan gathering his things, but overall he's right—this job didn't go badly at all.

He still keeps an eye on his gil purse until Ba'Gamnan's safely out the door, though.