Final Fantasy XII (Balthier/Fran)
Jul. 5th, 2007 03:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Airborn
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
icor
Rating: R
Word count: 368
Prompt: Final Fantasy XII: Fran/Balthier: Sounding, the purr of the Strahl's engines and the sound of the breath behind his ribs.
*
For a moment, she stops to take it all in: the sound of the Strahl's engine purring, a noise she barely registered seconds before, and the dim glow of its control panel against a grey-black sky. Fran inhales sharply, trying to steady her own breathing, but finds her heart is still thudding erratically; and she is so sure that the rush should be over by now.
The air tastes like sweat and sex and she turns from it, burying her head in the crook of Balthier's neck. He is quiet now, in the way that Humes so often never are, and she feels his skin against hers: still warm, enough to make her stomach twist and ache. As she presses her hand flat against his chest, nails digging in ever so slightly, she pushes him back in the pilot's chair, pinning her hips against his.
Balthier does not respond, straight away – and with her hands pressed up against him so, with the twisting knots in her stomach unraveling as a fierce heat, she can no longer tell what's her heartbeat and what's his. Her nails run down his chest the moment his hips move back against hers, and for a brief second, she can hear the sound of his breath beneath his ribs: caught there, as if he's a drowning man savouring what he can.
He wraps his arms around her and whispers something before pressing his mouth hard against her neck again, almost bruising. She feels his lips curl into a smirk as he pushes into her again; and it's so soon, almost too soon. She should be exhausted by now, ready to curl up next to him, but the air is heavy with sounds she does not want to ignore: twisted breaths, her name moaned, and then his too; the way the chair creaks as they rock atop it, the hiss of the Strahl's engine...
And something else, something else. She cannot place it, but it just feels (sounds, tastes) right, like home, like she belongs, and she finds herself thinking: so, this is what freedom is.
This piracy, she thinks with a moan, has gone far beyond partnership.
Author:
icorRating: R
Word count: 368
Prompt: Final Fantasy XII: Fran/Balthier: Sounding, the purr of the Strahl's engines and the sound of the breath behind his ribs.
*
For a moment, she stops to take it all in: the sound of the Strahl's engine purring, a noise she barely registered seconds before, and the dim glow of its control panel against a grey-black sky. Fran inhales sharply, trying to steady her own breathing, but finds her heart is still thudding erratically; and she is so sure that the rush should be over by now.
The air tastes like sweat and sex and she turns from it, burying her head in the crook of Balthier's neck. He is quiet now, in the way that Humes so often never are, and she feels his skin against hers: still warm, enough to make her stomach twist and ache. As she presses her hand flat against his chest, nails digging in ever so slightly, she pushes him back in the pilot's chair, pinning her hips against his.
Balthier does not respond, straight away – and with her hands pressed up against him so, with the twisting knots in her stomach unraveling as a fierce heat, she can no longer tell what's her heartbeat and what's his. Her nails run down his chest the moment his hips move back against hers, and for a brief second, she can hear the sound of his breath beneath his ribs: caught there, as if he's a drowning man savouring what he can.
He wraps his arms around her and whispers something before pressing his mouth hard against her neck again, almost bruising. She feels his lips curl into a smirk as he pushes into her again; and it's so soon, almost too soon. She should be exhausted by now, ready to curl up next to him, but the air is heavy with sounds she does not want to ignore: twisted breaths, her name moaned, and then his too; the way the chair creaks as they rock atop it, the hiss of the Strahl's engine...
And something else, something else. She cannot place it, but it just feels (sounds, tastes) right, like home, like she belongs, and she finds herself thinking: so, this is what freedom is.
This piracy, she thinks with a moan, has gone far beyond partnership.
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Date: 2007-07-05 03:34 pm (UTC)Gorgeous -- he so rarely gives up the spotlight, it's nice to see Fran's take on their relationship for a change. And mmm, she's deliciously sensual.
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Date: 2007-07-06 01:13 am (UTC)Thanks!
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Date: 2007-07-05 06:29 pm (UTC)Lovely work!
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Date: 2007-07-06 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-05 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 03:09 am (UTC)I liked this. :)
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Date: 2007-07-06 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-06 05:50 pm (UTC)*prrrr*
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Date: 2007-11-05 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-24 11:16 am (UTC)