kinkfest | Final Fantasy XII (Balthier/Fran)

Title: Not Trouble
Author: Laylah
Rating: R for m/f
Word count: ~1000
Summary: Penelo swallows hard. She shouldn't be watching this.

"This should be ready," Basch says, stirring the pot, so the scent of meat and spices wafts Penelo's way and makes her mouth water. "Would you tell the others?"

"Sure," she says, hopping up. "No problem." She's impressed, though she's too mature to say so, that Basch can cook at all -- Vaan's good enough at catching dinner, but he'd burn water if anyone let him try to prepare it. Basch's cooking isn't exactly fancy, but Penelo figures she has no room to criticize there, since her own method is pretty similar.

She finds Vaan throwing pebbles into the little pond at the bottom of the slope, right before the jungle really gets thick. "Dinner," she says.

Vaan scrambles up, brushing his pants off. "What are we having?"

"Some kind of stew," Penelo says. "Basch made it. I mostly just watched."

"Basch cooks?" Vaan says. "I have to see that." He starts up the trail. "You coming?"

"In a little bit." Penelo shrugs. "I have to track down the others first. You seen them?"

"Oh, um." Vaan stops. "Ashe is down that way," he says, pointing further into the jungle. "She wanted to train on stuff. I think Fran and Balthier are with the ship. Should we split up, and both go after someone?"

Penelo smiles. "Sounds great," she says. "You go get Ashe?" If she sends him after Balthier, they'll probably both wind up lost in the belly of the Strahl, talking about circuits and lift and glossair rings and missing the entire meal.

She can see Vaan look crestfallen for a minute, too, before he says, "Okay, yeah, no problem," which means she was definitely right. He starts down the path into the jungle, drawing his sword as he lopes off.

It's funny, Penelo thinks, that Fran wouldn't want to spend a little more time in Golmore, while they're here -- she knows she and Vaan both are always glad to see Rabanastre again, even if it hurts a little. Of course, it does kind of go without saying that she and Fran are very different, so she guesses she shouldn't be surprised. She's learning a lot about how different people can be, on their adventures.

She comes out from under the trees at the very edge of the forest, to the spot where the Strahl waits at anchor. There's the crystal, and on the other side of the clearing a few big rocks leaning against each other, and -- where are they? Penelo trots up to the anchor, intending to call up and see if they're aboard, when she hears a noise from behind the rocks, and stops.

A few seconds later she hears it again, a soft, breathy whimper that sounds a lot like Fran. That could mean trouble, she thinks -- or, of course, she realizes just a second before she hears the murmur of Balthier's voice, too low to make out any words, it could mean something very different from trouble, too.

It would be polite to go away, and make some noise coming back.

Unless of course there is trouble, which there could be, and which is -- which is not actually likely at all, but at least it's a good enough excuse. Slowly, carefully, Penelo inches around the rocks, and --

It's not trouble, all right. Fran has her back pressed up against the tallest of the rocks, and her legs wrapped around Balthier's waist. Her head is thrown back, the tips of her ears brushing the stone behind her. Balthier's vest is discarded on the ground beside them, and Fran's hands bunch in the back of his shirt. One of his sleeves has come loose, the laces unraveling to bare his shoulder as he rocks his hips.

Penelo swallows hard. She shouldn't be watching this. Not just because they're having sex -- there's nowhere near as much privacy in Lowtown as anyone would like, with so many people crowded into so little space, so it isn't the first time she's stumbled across something like that -- but because they mean it, because Fran is trembling and tense as she holds on, because Balthier has lost his composure and the look on his face is nothing short of needy. This...isn't something they show just anyone.

Despite knowing better, she has trouble making herself leave. She stands there, barely daring to breathe, her cheeks hot, and -- and her jumpsuit too tight between her legs. Fran's making more of those little noises, high-pitched and breathy, every time Balthier's hips rock, and then she's keening, shaking, and the noise Balthier makes against her throat sounds so utterly raw --

Penelo flees, before they can finish. She stops under cover of the forest, and tries to just think about her breathing for a minute, calming down before she goes back. If she takes too long, Vaan will come looking for her, or Basch, and that'll be really embarrassing to explain.

The second time she walks out of Golmore, she's whistling, and scuffing up the dirt as she goes.

"Evening, dear," Balthier says, when Penelo steps into the sunlight. His vest is back on, even if it's a little askew and he hasn't done his sleeve back up quite as tightly as the other one. Fran leans against the rock beside him, looking like she's never been out of control in her life -- except for the warm pink flush on her cheeks.

"Good evening," Penelo says, and her voice cracks a little but she pushes on: "Dinner's ready, if, ah, you're hungry."

Balthier smiles, all charm and style again. "Glad to hear it," he says. "Lead the way, if you would."

On the way back down the path, toward their campsite and the voices of the others already there, Fran falls into step beside Penelo. "Thank you," she says quietly. Penelo looks up. "For allowing us time to finish."

"Oh," Penelo says. "Oh." She looks straight ahead of them, her cheeks burning. "You're welcome."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

sheffiesharpe.livejournal.com

I especially love the detail about Balthier's sleeve. And Fran. Oh, Fran. At the end. Because Fran knows.

I also like Penelo as our p.o.v. character here. She's got such a refreshing and honest voice that adds a great wonder to what it is that she's seeing.

From:

I could bring you so much pleasure...

Final Fantasy XII (Balthier/Fran)

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