Final Fantasy XII (Ashe/Vossler)
Apr. 1st, 2007 07:05 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: Familiar
Author: Laylah
Rating: PG?
Word count: 257
Summary: She moves against him like she's dancing.
The first time he was this close to Her Highness the princess, she was fourteen. He was thirty-two. He had known her since she was far younger. It was her idea, and he remembers the basics if not the specifics of the argument she used. She wasn't comfortable moving in long skirts, she told him, breathless, blushing. She needed to practice before the midsummer ball. She wouldn't want to embarrass herself, when she was due to meet her fiance.
Vossler remembers how delicate Ashe felt in his arms then: the way she trembled, the way she stumbled against him, the way she clung to his shoulders. He thought at the time that it was simple nervousness, but now --
"My lady," Vossler says stiffly, unable to hide his surprise. His hands settle at Ashe's waist despite his best intentions. Her arms are draped around his shoulders; she sways against him. "This is -- too familiar, too --"
"Vossler," she says. She is still slender, but no longer delicate, and she does not tremble as she meets his eyes. "If I cannot be familiar with you, who else is left to me?" Her fingers twine in the hairs at the nape of his neck and tug gently.
He should stop her, should step back, should refuse this for both of their sakes, but she moves against him like she's dancing, slow and rhythmic, and her eyes are so hopeful. "If you're certain," he says.
She doesn't say a word, but the press of her mouth to his is answer enough.
Author: Laylah
Rating: PG?
Word count: 257
Summary: She moves against him like she's dancing.
The first time he was this close to Her Highness the princess, she was fourteen. He was thirty-two. He had known her since she was far younger. It was her idea, and he remembers the basics if not the specifics of the argument she used. She wasn't comfortable moving in long skirts, she told him, breathless, blushing. She needed to practice before the midsummer ball. She wouldn't want to embarrass herself, when she was due to meet her fiance.
Vossler remembers how delicate Ashe felt in his arms then: the way she trembled, the way she stumbled against him, the way she clung to his shoulders. He thought at the time that it was simple nervousness, but now --
"My lady," Vossler says stiffly, unable to hide his surprise. His hands settle at Ashe's waist despite his best intentions. Her arms are draped around his shoulders; she sways against him. "This is -- too familiar, too --"
"Vossler," she says. She is still slender, but no longer delicate, and she does not tremble as she meets his eyes. "If I cannot be familiar with you, who else is left to me?" Her fingers twine in the hairs at the nape of his neck and tug gently.
He should stop her, should step back, should refuse this for both of their sakes, but she moves against him like she's dancing, slow and rhythmic, and her eyes are so hopeful. "If you're certain," he says.
She doesn't say a word, but the press of her mouth to his is answer enough.
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no subject
Date: 2007-04-02 05:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-02 01:46 pm (UTC)