kinkfest | Final Fantasy XII (Basch/Vossler)

Title: Down to the Waters
Author:

sister_coyote
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sex
Word count: 1250
Summary: Of all Dalmasca's decadences, Basch's favorite was the baths.
Prompt: Final Fantasy XII, Basch/Vossler: Massage - a long hard day of training

Dalmasca had many luxuries -- a cuisine of fresh fruit and spicy meat and sweet wine, a preference for clothes scant but of fine fabric or smooth leather, a culture rich with incense and sculpture and fine gems -- but of all her decadences, Basch's favorite was the baths.

After a few hours in the training circle, where exertion raised sweat and then desert climes trapped dust and sand in that sweat, when his arms had grown sore from wielding the practice-blade or shield for hours at a time, or his legs from running a chocobo through its paces, or his back from either, it was pure pleasure to peel the leathers from his skin and sink himself into hot water scented with bundles of fragrant plants. The gentle current of the baths lifted off the grime of his exertion and carried it away.

It had taken him some time to become accustomed to the fact that he and others would share the same baths completely bare -- including his superiors and subordinates -- but then that had been one of his greatest adjustments: Dalmascans wore less clothing than was common in Landis, showed more skin and decorated it more often, and had no compunctions unclothing themselves, in certain situations, before their comrades. It was well worth becoming accustomed to such things, however, if only for the long conversations he had shared with Vossler Azelas.

This day, however, he left the practice yard early and bathed alone, and was drying himself and wrapping in a long robe (there was no point in putting sweat-soiled clothing back over clean skin) by the time Vossler arrived, rubbing his neck with a grimace.

"Your neck pains you?" he asked, doing his best not to fix a gaze of unseemly length on Vossler as he shed his armor.

"My back," Vossler said.

He hesitated a moment, looking at Vossler and then away -- not yet quite comfortable enough to know how long to make eye contact in the baths, how long to busy himself with gathering his things. "I have some small practice at relieving tense muscles," he said, "if you would like -- "

Vossler rolled his head back against the lip of the bath, and smiled a little, and said, "Perhaps I will take you up on that."

In his quarters, Basch put on loose pants and a tunic, and brewed sweet spicy tea, and tried not to hope too much, or fear too much, or count the minutes too much as he waited. When the double-rap came to his door, he kept the anticipation mostly from his voice when he said, "Enter."

Vossler wore robe, and towel, and sandals, and naught else. Basch swallowed and busied himself with the kettle, offered him tea -- which Vossler declined -- and then said, "It will be easier if you lie down."

"Of course," Vossler said, letting fall his robe but keeping his towel in place. The muscles moved in his back and Basch could all but see the tension, even so soon after a long soak.

Fresh from the baths, Vossler's skin smelled faintly of the herbs that floated in the hot water. His hair was still damp at the nape of his neck. Basch rested the heel of his hand against the inner curve of his bare shoulder blade and rocked his weight against it, feeling the knots of tension like stone beneath Vossler's skin. "Have you been using a heavier sword?" he asked. "Your back is protesting."

"It always has protested," Vossler said, his voice muffled and warm with a smile hidden against his forearms. "I think half the reason I sought to build strength was to relieve the pain in my back."

Basch curled his fingers over the top of Vossler's shoulder, applying a little pressure there and more with his thumb to the tightened muscle. "And has it helped?" he asked, skeptical.

"More than you'd believe, I think."

He noted -- tried not to note, but noted anyway -- the sleekness of Vossler's muscles even as he worked to make them more sleek, to smooth the hard curls beneath his shoulder blades, the thick tension at the back of his neck. Vossler bore scars, as did they all; some old, some new, and when he traced one despite himself (a white arc, long healed), Vossler said, "There is no good story there. I fell from a tree when I was ten and scraped my back raw on the way down. The better stories go with the less impressive scars."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. But later. I am too relaxed now to carry the thread of a narrative."

As he worked, gradually, slowly, with patient care encouraged by Vossler's gradual relaxation, Basch could feel the muscles loosening in Vossler's back. The hard ropes slowly, slowly, gave way, still firm but supple as well, moving more freely when Vossler unfolded his arms from under his chin and stretched, making them all ripple in turn. "Better?" Basch asked.

"Quite." Vossler's voice was heavy, and when he turned over his eyes had a sleepy, satisfied look. His towel had come a bit loose, and he was half-aroused, and the little smile on his lips was something Basch wanted to prolong.

It would have been easier to justify to himself that he acted on instinct, without thinking; but the truth was that in that moment he did think, and came to a decision, and acted. It was the more exhilarating and frightening that it was a decision made. He nudged aside the loosened towel, and bent his head, and brushed his lips to the tip of Vossler's erection.

Vossler caught his breath and arched, so that Basch backed off a little, until Vossler said, "Oh do not -- do not stop, unless you do not want -- "

Basch lowered his head again, parted his lips, and took Vossler into his mouth.

It was not a fast thing. Vossler was not yet even fully hard, though he quickly became so under the touch of Basch's tongue. Nor did he thrust, or seize Basch's hair, or do anything to hurry the encounter; his hands fell lightly at the back of Basch's neck, and on his shoulders, and occasionally raking through his hair, but not to hold him in place or hurry him. His touches were more like caresses, as the lazy rolling of his hips seemed simple responses to pleasure, and the sounds he made -- not loud, but free enough that one might call them shameless -- Basch accepted as appreciation or gratitude. It did not end quickly, but nor did he want it to, with the muscle of Vossler's thigh beneath his hand, and the scent of his clean skin and the herbs of the bath sweet on the air. And when it did end, with a low breathy noise from Vossler and a sharp taste on the back of his tongue, he was almost satisfied enough, just from that.

In the aftermath of release, Vossler was utterly relaxed -- relaxed and smiling the brilliant smile that transfigured his face, turned his already-pleasing features into something quite literally breathtaking. "Better?" Basch asked.

"Indeed," Vossler said, and laughed a little, almost giddy. "I should reciprocate, but I am not sure I can move."

Basch eased up to rest on one elbow beside Vossler, and was gratified that Vossler could move at least enough to close the gap between them for a kiss, and all that despite the taste on Basch's tongue. "There will be time later," he said.

"Yes," Vossler said. "Indeed there will."