Final Fantasy VIII (Irvine/Zell)
Jul. 16th, 2007 01:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Surf Wax
Author: K M B
Word Count: Apt. 1227
Rating: PG13.
Warnings: nada.
Summary: Zell wants to take Irvine surfing.
Prompt/Author’s Note: -Irvine/Zell: Tan lines - black ink on bronzed skin was quickly becoming his favourite fetish- Sorry this is so freaking late! The title is part of a Weezer song; I’m so darn original, no? Also, I can’t remember if it ever states in the game whether Irvine can swim or not, so let’s suspend reality for a moment…
You couldn’t have ordered a more perfect day. It wasn’t cloudless, but the giant fluffy white ones hanging low over the horizon only made the blue sky bluer, and the deep cobalt of the ocean did nothing but complement the picture. Despite this, the beach was hardly crowded, another aspect that lent to the day. Zell stopped for a moment, surfboard under his arm, and just inhaled the salty sea scent. There was nothing like the shores of Balamb on a midsummer’s day to make him feel at peace. From the orphanage to Ma Dincht, Zell had been raised on the beach, and he couldn’t think of a better upbringing. Wind, sun, sea… it was so perfect.
“Fucking sand! Shit, this is hot!” grumbled a voice next to him, shattering Zell’s reflective moment. He turned toward the intrusion.
Standing just to Zell’s elbow, surfboard awkwardly in hand, was everyone’s favorite charmer, Irvine Kinneas, only he didn’t look quite so charming right then, hopping from foot to foot on the hot white sand. His wet suit, borrowed from Zell, was too big in the shoulders and too small everywhere else, giving him an inflated look, and Zell knew he would look like a balloon the moment they got in the water. The thought made him laugh just a little, chasing away his initial irritation at being interrupted. Irvine’s sour attention just focused, sharpened, on Zell and his brow furrowed. “What in the blazes is so funny, Dincht?”
Shaking his head, Zell’s private little chuckle turned into a hardly-stifled laugh that made him have to look away from Irvine lest he not be able to stop. “Nothing,” he barely got out. “Nothing, man,” he repeated, a little calmer, “you just look as out of place here as I do on the back of a chocobo.”
“Got it in one, mate,” Irvine responded, rolling his eyes and attempting to dig the tail of his borrowed surfboard into the sand to stand it and failing quite miserably. He turned to Zell, exasperated and entreating. Soon, both surfboards were propped up.
“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Irvine said after a moment, stripping the top of the wet suit at Zell’s suggestion and pulling out a bottle of sunblock. Zell didn’t say anything, just let a grin quirk his lips. “Do me, I do you?” Irvine asked, handing the bottle to Zell and turning around where he sat on the towel they’d spread out, holding his ponytail out of the way.
“Yeah, man,” Zell agreed and looked up where he had been kicking off his thongs, faltering just for a second. Here it was, the reason Zell had even coerced Irvine into a surfing lesson in the first place. Irvine, the ladies’ man, half-naked and one-hundred-percent his, no Selphie or Quistis to distract his attention elsewhere. Just Zell and a hands-on lesson in surfing, something he was almost as good at as fighting.
Zell let his gaze wander only for a moment over the sculpted, but lean shoulders, the build lankier than his own compact one, defined nonetheless; a runner’s build. He fumbled with the sunblock, squirting a liberal amount onto his fingers, an amusing yet highly inappropriate thought about using sunblock where the sun doesn’t shine if things went well today running through his head before he squashed it completely. No way in hell, Zell admonished himself. Smoothing the lotion onto Irvine’s shoulders, Zell worked efficiently, taking a no-nonsense approach lest Irvine think something was up; just touching him and seeing him and spending time with him was enough for Zell, for now. There was no reason to take it any further and risk losing a friendship he was actually beginning to cherish.
“Mmm, that feels good,” Zell heard Irvine rumble, the honey baritone of his voice heading straight for Zell’s libido as he leant into the touch. “You got magic hands, Zell.”
Hyne, he has to stop doing that, Zell’s mind supplied furiously, sounding like the moan Irvine had almost spoken in as his hands worked lower, grabbing more lotion before pushing the wetsuit down just a little further, to the tops of Irvine’s buttocks. He received no complaint—nothing except a small, hardly-noticeable gasp—but there was something else of interest to steer Zell’s attention away from the smooth, sun-kissed skin beneath his fingertips.
It was a tattoo, Zell realized, a tribal design much like the one that lined the side of Zell’s face. It dipped into a point on Irvine’s spine just above the rounded curve of his ass, and it was gorgeous. As he smoothed the sunblock over it, he admired the lines and contours, the intricacies. It was slashed in half by the tan line just above Irvine’s ass—half a compliment to tanned caramel skin, the bottom a stark, yet also complimenting contrast to the milk-pale white. In short, it was gorgeous. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” he murmured after a moment.
“What? Oh yeah,” Irvine laughed. “Sometimes I forget that’s even there. Got it a few months ago.”
Was that embarrassment Zell detected in Irvine’s voice? “It’s gorgeous.” Sorry, but there was no other word for it.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Looks familiar.”
“Yeah? Well, I had a good reference point.” And with that Irvine twisted around to catch Zell’s eyes with his own, reaching out to touch a finger along Zell’s face. “I’ve always liked this, but I don’t think I could ever be so daring. So I compromised.”
Zell didn’t know what to say. He was completely silent, staring as Irvine’s finger traveled down to his jaw and over his lip, running his knuckle first over the top then the bottom. A silky touch despite the trigger-calloused flesh; fingerless gloves could only do so much, as Zell well knew. But Irvine’s eyes, straightforward and clear, were locked solidly on Zell’s, as serious as his unsmiling, pleading mouth. They stayed like that for a small eternity.
It was Zell who moved forward first, for posterity’s sake, but Irvine was quick to follow and their mouths met in the middle, perfect and hesitant still, even though each heart knew the other’s intention. They’d had no hint of the other’s feelings before then, but in a flash of synchronicity each understood just how wanted they were. Irvine turned in Zell’s embrace, pulling himself flush and bare-chested against him, tipping Zell’s chin up as he pushed the blond down into the sand and crawled over top.
It was a very good thing the beach was as deserted as it was, for there was no one around to interrupt the two newfound lovers in their kiss—in the way Zell’s hands traveled the silken length of Irvine’s hair, running to his back and down, down further still. No one was there to witness as Irvine’s own hand cupped the side of Zell’s face, and one rough thumb ran over the permanently painted soft skin; black ink on bronzed skin was quickly becoming Irvine’s favorite fetish. It was one he had been lax on admitting to until that very moment as Zell’s tongue lapped back at his and his hold tightened, pulling Irvine further downward, inward.
After a moment, Zell pushed Irvine’s face away long enough to say in a lost breath, “But what about—?” He gestured weakly toward the surfboards.
Irvine laughed hollowly. “Are you kidding? I can’t even swim.”
Author: K M B
Word Count: Apt. 1227
Rating: PG13.
Warnings: nada.
Summary: Zell wants to take Irvine surfing.
Prompt/Author’s Note: -Irvine/Zell: Tan lines - black ink on bronzed skin was quickly becoming his favourite fetish- Sorry this is so freaking late! The title is part of a Weezer song; I’m so darn original, no? Also, I can’t remember if it ever states in the game whether Irvine can swim or not, so let’s suspend reality for a moment…
You couldn’t have ordered a more perfect day. It wasn’t cloudless, but the giant fluffy white ones hanging low over the horizon only made the blue sky bluer, and the deep cobalt of the ocean did nothing but complement the picture. Despite this, the beach was hardly crowded, another aspect that lent to the day. Zell stopped for a moment, surfboard under his arm, and just inhaled the salty sea scent. There was nothing like the shores of Balamb on a midsummer’s day to make him feel at peace. From the orphanage to Ma Dincht, Zell had been raised on the beach, and he couldn’t think of a better upbringing. Wind, sun, sea… it was so perfect.
“Fucking sand! Shit, this is hot!” grumbled a voice next to him, shattering Zell’s reflective moment. He turned toward the intrusion.
Standing just to Zell’s elbow, surfboard awkwardly in hand, was everyone’s favorite charmer, Irvine Kinneas, only he didn’t look quite so charming right then, hopping from foot to foot on the hot white sand. His wet suit, borrowed from Zell, was too big in the shoulders and too small everywhere else, giving him an inflated look, and Zell knew he would look like a balloon the moment they got in the water. The thought made him laugh just a little, chasing away his initial irritation at being interrupted. Irvine’s sour attention just focused, sharpened, on Zell and his brow furrowed. “What in the blazes is so funny, Dincht?”
Shaking his head, Zell’s private little chuckle turned into a hardly-stifled laugh that made him have to look away from Irvine lest he not be able to stop. “Nothing,” he barely got out. “Nothing, man,” he repeated, a little calmer, “you just look as out of place here as I do on the back of a chocobo.”
“Got it in one, mate,” Irvine responded, rolling his eyes and attempting to dig the tail of his borrowed surfboard into the sand to stand it and failing quite miserably. He turned to Zell, exasperated and entreating. Soon, both surfboards were propped up.
“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” Irvine said after a moment, stripping the top of the wet suit at Zell’s suggestion and pulling out a bottle of sunblock. Zell didn’t say anything, just let a grin quirk his lips. “Do me, I do you?” Irvine asked, handing the bottle to Zell and turning around where he sat on the towel they’d spread out, holding his ponytail out of the way.
“Yeah, man,” Zell agreed and looked up where he had been kicking off his thongs, faltering just for a second. Here it was, the reason Zell had even coerced Irvine into a surfing lesson in the first place. Irvine, the ladies’ man, half-naked and one-hundred-percent his, no Selphie or Quistis to distract his attention elsewhere. Just Zell and a hands-on lesson in surfing, something he was almost as good at as fighting.
Zell let his gaze wander only for a moment over the sculpted, but lean shoulders, the build lankier than his own compact one, defined nonetheless; a runner’s build. He fumbled with the sunblock, squirting a liberal amount onto his fingers, an amusing yet highly inappropriate thought about using sunblock where the sun doesn’t shine if things went well today running through his head before he squashed it completely. No way in hell, Zell admonished himself. Smoothing the lotion onto Irvine’s shoulders, Zell worked efficiently, taking a no-nonsense approach lest Irvine think something was up; just touching him and seeing him and spending time with him was enough for Zell, for now. There was no reason to take it any further and risk losing a friendship he was actually beginning to cherish.
“Mmm, that feels good,” Zell heard Irvine rumble, the honey baritone of his voice heading straight for Zell’s libido as he leant into the touch. “You got magic hands, Zell.”
Hyne, he has to stop doing that, Zell’s mind supplied furiously, sounding like the moan Irvine had almost spoken in as his hands worked lower, grabbing more lotion before pushing the wetsuit down just a little further, to the tops of Irvine’s buttocks. He received no complaint—nothing except a small, hardly-noticeable gasp—but there was something else of interest to steer Zell’s attention away from the smooth, sun-kissed skin beneath his fingertips.
It was a tattoo, Zell realized, a tribal design much like the one that lined the side of Zell’s face. It dipped into a point on Irvine’s spine just above the rounded curve of his ass, and it was gorgeous. As he smoothed the sunblock over it, he admired the lines and contours, the intricacies. It was slashed in half by the tan line just above Irvine’s ass—half a compliment to tanned caramel skin, the bottom a stark, yet also complimenting contrast to the milk-pale white. In short, it was gorgeous. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” he murmured after a moment.
“What? Oh yeah,” Irvine laughed. “Sometimes I forget that’s even there. Got it a few months ago.”
Was that embarrassment Zell detected in Irvine’s voice? “It’s gorgeous.” Sorry, but there was no other word for it.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Looks familiar.”
“Yeah? Well, I had a good reference point.” And with that Irvine twisted around to catch Zell’s eyes with his own, reaching out to touch a finger along Zell’s face. “I’ve always liked this, but I don’t think I could ever be so daring. So I compromised.”
Zell didn’t know what to say. He was completely silent, staring as Irvine’s finger traveled down to his jaw and over his lip, running his knuckle first over the top then the bottom. A silky touch despite the trigger-calloused flesh; fingerless gloves could only do so much, as Zell well knew. But Irvine’s eyes, straightforward and clear, were locked solidly on Zell’s, as serious as his unsmiling, pleading mouth. They stayed like that for a small eternity.
It was Zell who moved forward first, for posterity’s sake, but Irvine was quick to follow and their mouths met in the middle, perfect and hesitant still, even though each heart knew the other’s intention. They’d had no hint of the other’s feelings before then, but in a flash of synchronicity each understood just how wanted they were. Irvine turned in Zell’s embrace, pulling himself flush and bare-chested against him, tipping Zell’s chin up as he pushed the blond down into the sand and crawled over top.
It was a very good thing the beach was as deserted as it was, for there was no one around to interrupt the two newfound lovers in their kiss—in the way Zell’s hands traveled the silken length of Irvine’s hair, running to his back and down, down further still. No one was there to witness as Irvine’s own hand cupped the side of Zell’s face, and one rough thumb ran over the permanently painted soft skin; black ink on bronzed skin was quickly becoming Irvine’s favorite fetish. It was one he had been lax on admitting to until that very moment as Zell’s tongue lapped back at his and his hold tightened, pulling Irvine further downward, inward.
After a moment, Zell pushed Irvine’s face away long enough to say in a lost breath, “But what about—?” He gestured weakly toward the surfboards.
Irvine laughed hollowly. “Are you kidding? I can’t even swim.”
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Date: 2007-07-17 02:48 am (UTC)And the last line was freaking awesome. Irvine is such a smoothy. :)
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Date: 2007-07-17 10:25 am (UTC)