your turn now, Final Fantasy X (Magus Sisters/Isaaru)
Title: your turn now Author/Artist: cetus_nightmare Rating: not worksafe Warnings: insane amount of buildup Word count: 4,725 A/N: Final Fantasy X - Magus Sisters/Isaaru - 3 on 1 - This was a bit more than he expected... ...One day late...(-.-;)
quite</i> recovered yet..."
---
Despite what Sir Auron had said Isaaru continued in his pilgrimage. He made his way down to the Calm Lands from Bevelle through the Macalania Woods, up through Mt. Gagazet, up to the mountain of the Ronso - where he beheld devastation.
"Who has done this?" he asked frequently, to no or stoic reply. Being a summoner he helped to send the fallen, dancing and herding the pyrelies away from negative emotion, away to the Farplane. Maroda tried to help out where he could, hauling bodies this way and that where the ronso would allow him, while Pacce...Pacce entertained the young Ronso who did not quite understand why so many of their elders had fallen, much like Pacce himself did not understand.
They left shaken in their belief; the more so as the mountain showed no sign of Sin's passing.
---
In sight of the sacred city now, Isaaru stood up on the brink of a small hill, contemplating. The pyreflies flowed especially strongly here, here and there flaring into visible existence before dying out to float peaceful on the buoyant currents; the otherworldly poignance ever strong.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Startled, Isaaru walked back down the slope, careful to step over a loose twig.
"Are you going to accept?"
"We are in sight of the holy city now. From what I hear from Bevelle, the city is in chaos. Maester Mika has disappeared, everything is in turmoil. What do I gain from continuing on the pilgrimage when there are others, more able, and the Church requires me? I will go back to Bevelle, I think."
"Do we get to stay in the apartment again?"
"Yes, Pacce, we do." Isaaru looked out again at the sight of a city he had longed for for so many years, then turned his back on it.
With his guardians following and the ache of something just out of his reach in his core (not white-hot rage fire nor scarring snow, not jolting lightning nor love nor faith) he stepped onto the teleportation pad conveniently left active by some better party and was transported back onto the base of Mt. Gagazet.
---
The next time he saw the Lady Yuna and her guardians he was high in a balcony overlooking the main path leading into the holy city. Maroda greeted her at the gate. Even over the din of the city behind him, he could hear his brother's aggressive words.
Seemingly rebuked the party of six returned the way they had come, making their way over to the traveller's sphere and vanishing in a cloud.
Wait, six?
Yuna walked up to Pacce and engaged him in conversation. Isaaru could not hear Lady Yuna from where he was but he could clearly hear Pacce's squeals of delight.
"I heard something funny the other day! When a flying ship sings, we're supposed to sing along, and they say that'll beat Sin!"
Isaaru shook his head and went back into signing.
---
That night he tossed and turned in his usually comfortable bed, his mind's gaze filled with little pinpoints of red and green and indigo, swooping and laughing and soaring in a clear blue sky stretching beyond forever and then he remembered. He had seen that exact shade of blue peering out across the Scar on a summer's day in the Calm Lands. He felt as though...as though there were some part of him missing, as always; filled a little by each aeon. Perhaps, then, this time he would be soundly fulfilled.
The next day he set out for the Calm Lands, leaving Maroda and Pacce behind. This he undertook alone.
---
Much as he'd loved Bevelle it was good to be on the road again. His pilgrimage may have been over, though his faith in Yevon still strong; people may have spit on him as his passed to signify a failure of a summoner's duty - but he was free to do whatever he wanted, and that was all that mattered. He passed through Macalania Woods, this time slowing down to appreciate each finely frozen petal and symmetrical pattern, stopped to wonder at the new paths open, including one that would not have seemed out of place in Zanarkand, a path of glimmering starlight weaving in and out of the trees.
He broke out of the Woods and into the vast rolling plains, setting out to see up and beyond the curve of the sky.
Isaaru got dizzy and fell down laughing. He didn't think he'd felt such as this in as long as he'd travelled the summoner's route, not even when Pacce tripped and rolled down the long hill into Besaid Village, knocking several flans and dingos out of the way. He'd been more concerned with Pacce at the time although Maroda had fallen about himself laughing before taking out the still dazed fiends with his sword.
Trekking across the lonely plains was often hard, and at times Isaaru felt the need for female company, which had not been lacking in the 'holy' city. At these times he waited until night-time fell and his robe was tented around that one straight point; he attended to it then.
Making camp every night with a lone fire and a sleeping bag, Isaaru would sit up and stare off into the Scar, his robe folded outside his sleeping bag and running his hands up and down the smooth angles of his member. At one point when he felt the most bold he inched a finger between his legs and shallow into his anus. Feeling the contractions about him and the pain he caused to himself he ejaculated before he could open the sleeping bag and had to sleep with a moist sleeping bag that night. Otherwise, he slept without a care. Perhaps something, or someone, protected him, for each morning when he awoke nary a fiend had disturbed him.
---
Something in order of a week had passed before he reached the Al Bhed Travel Agency in the central part of the plains. Restocking on sustenance and sleeping in a bed, even if it were only a pallet, for one night, he set off again, no fixed destination or direction in mind, only a freedom so broad that he scarcely could contain it.
He moved in the day and slept in the night. No fiends disturbed his restful slumber or long strides, no rain drenched him nor wind blew away his belongings - he felt blessed, and thought not of Grotha or Spathi or even Pterya, who had sustained him before.
---
He could see the Travel Agency to the northeast of him when he saw a lady in green, leaning against a lonely spire in a summoner's robe not dissimilar to his own. She walked out to him and smiled warmly, her touches in the pyreflies smooth and finessed, a faint hint of spice.
"I am Belgemine," she raised her hand to pat his shoulder, making no gesture of Yevon's obeisance.
Not quite knowing how to respond, feeling in his core that making the prayer would not be appropriate, Isaaru bowed.
"Well met, Isaaru."
Seeing the surprise on his face, Belgemine smiled further and took his hand.
"I know many things about you, and what you are longing for. Follow!"
She felt solid, soothing, steady in the currents; trusting her, for he had never been able to do aught else, Isaaru stood still as Belgemine summoned Bahamut. Belgemine's version of Spathi seemed to look upon him still with favor before enwrapping him with his claws and flying away faster than the eye could follow.
---
Even so, as Bahamut dropped him off with all his belongings at the step before the mighty - and lost - Remiem Temple, Belgemine was waiting for him at the door. She smiled a moment before casting a hand over the glyphs on the door - they moved aside through some magic or machina, he knew not which, and he followed her inside. There she stood in the center of an exact circle, one he knew could be used for an aeon duel.
She smiled and beckoned him closer.
"What you are searching for lies beyond me, to the chamber behind me. The chamber of Remiem's lost fayth."
Isaaru went past her, went past her near the butterfly-winged fronds of the chamber. He turned around to ask when she had found this, but she was gone.
Puzzled, but remembering how fast she had moved before Isaaru felt uneasy that he had not sensed a calling for an aeon, but breathing in a deep breath he touched the fronds and they parted for him.
---
The carvings on the walls were of three women, joined together; one tall, one round, and one small and demure. Exactly the way he remembered their forms.
He ran a considering finger over their statues until he stood before the soft mien of the glowing circle, the emblem of the sisters contained within.
Falling to his knees, and then onto his side, he closed his eyes to pray for the aeons.
He received them.
He understood them.
---
They were the Calm Lands again, riding free on the chocobos that flocked to them every year or so. Three sisters - one slim and majestic, one round and warm, one demure and maidenly, sat astride a chocobo. They rode as one towards the Temple almost newly built, where hundreds of others had gone before and found desolate.
When their papa and momma left them for Sin they had held on to each other in the depths of night, seeking and searching for love; finding not that but pleasure boundless. Pleasure...and lust during the day, holding out for each other, eyes bright. Their eventual sacrifice was not so much for duty, as Isaaru felt, but forever -
"Call us," they seemed to repeat again and again in his head.
So he did.
---
He floated in a multi-colored space, his body surging with currents of lust. Hungry, angry lust and he knew not how to deal with it. No matter how his hands worked at his cock, no matter how much pain or pleasure he caused to himself he could not orgasm, could not shudder with the aftereffects and throb all over so they could bask in the afterglow.
Then the urge grew stronger and stronger and more and more frenzied and he was aching for something...someone, to bury himself into and jerk his hips back and forward until she contracted involuntarily -
And then something struck him from behind, a giant ray of red light, and he spun around to see a tall Xiphos-woman-Sandy moving her hands in time to the throbbing of his anus. He leaned forward and a strand of blue locked his arms together, binding him tightly in time for the gust of warm green to curl around his cock and tug, white streams of light surrounding him in a pyramid.
All three beams heated and pounded and grew faster and faster in their throbs until they exploded, and he exploded with them, came apart at the seams and fountained out more than he ever believed he could produce -
And fell limp on the ground, the cold hard duelling circle.
His robe fluttered to one side, a blue blanket revealing a toned, skinny body with an average-sized cock. From his glazed vantage on the ground the three fayth shone through their aeons. The smallest - Mindy he knew from his mind - kneeled forward and ran a finger down his limp member, which began to swell again. She took him into her lips, ran a slick tongue up and down his pillar, sucked him in and out, her eyes rolling back into her head.
Isaaru could do nothing but moan and pump his hips up into her moist, soft mouth, feeling the muscles and texture rubbing onto him. Small fingers cupped his balls and circled the base of his penis, milking every last bit of ache out of him.
The oldest one - Cindy, he thought - flicked a question to him through the pyreflies and he could do aught else but nod. She wandered behind him and lifted him easily, sliding under his body and parting his buttocks while Mindy fluttered up on wings and continued to suck his cock.
As Isaaru wondered wordlessly as to what the slimmest one - Sandy, his mind provided - was going to do for him, a tongue flickered thick and flexible at his puckered hole. His dick swelled and balls tightening, he seemed about to pump, but Mindy ran a warm finger under his balls and his penis shrunk a little, though the ache grew.
Tilting his head through the glaze of pleasure Isaaru struggled to ask of Sandy what she planned to do to make him feel.
His eyes widened as he realised she was already doing it. The superimposition of fayth and aeon showed the fayth Sandy's gasps as the aeon drove her littlest sister's sting into her pool of nectar, the two sisters moving at odds to each other to get the deepest penetration possible.
This was...so much more than he had expected...
As his mind exploded, again, the aeons stilled. Isaaru feared they had stopped, but after he lay still for a while, regaining a certain equilibrium, they restarted.
And then every movement was molass-thick and honey-glazed; each moment sparkling and lost in a pool of time, rippling across the surface -
- and then their fingers are reaching out towards him and sinking in deep into his core - ---
He awoke in darkness, the cheers of a select, worried group muffled by his bedside.
"H-How long?" he managed to croak.
"Two months," was the echoing reply.
---
The first thing he heard, in celebration, after he reawoke was that the traitors had vanished around the vicinity of Bikanel Island, where the Al Bhed had used to live. The scattered remnants of Isaaru's mind made a jump and realised that somewhere in the past, an Isaaru would be meeting a Magus Sister-summoning Yuna.
...but the rest of Isaaru's mind still echoes with words that the aeons should not have been able to speak, his fingers reaching out again to manipulate the currents of the pyreflies to caress the blossoms of his aeons -