Final Fantasy XII (Basch/Vaan)
Jul. 31st, 2007 09:27 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: The Snow Cave Scenario
Author/Artist: aliana_iskassa
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Word Count: 1,410
Summary: Basch stared at the ceiling of the cave, his hand running restlessly along Vaan’s spine, and resolved never to speak of this again.
A/N: The prompt was “Basch/Vaan: Body heat - he's never been anywhere this cold before.”
The Paramina Rift was dark and eerie, the wind howling overhead and shrieking down through the mountain crevasses, and Basch blinked tired eyes, strained by searching for the white of Trickster’s feathers against a backdrop of frozen rivers and snow-laden peaks that had not thawed for a thousand years. He wished that he were back at the holy mountain with the others, but wishing would not make it so.
He turned, and saw that Vaan has fallen behind, the boy’s spear carving a track through the snow. Too exhausted to even scold him for his carelessness, he waded back to the boy’s side, placing a hand on his thin shoulder. Vaan looked up, his pupils dilated, his lips a worrisome shade of blue. There was frost ringing his lips, crusting on his hair, on his leather armor.
“Vaan?” Vaan coughed a little in reply, the sound congested and thick. ‘Damn!’ Basch looked around stupidly- another sign of hypothermia, this feeling of torpidity- for wood that he would not find. He reached to undo the straps holding his shield on his back, and moved to the nearest snowdrift, taking Vaan by the hand.
“Cast fire.” Vaan stared, blinked slowly. Basch shook him, repeated the order. Vaan’s lips moved in the incantation, and a pitiful, guttering flame bloomed between them, fueled only by will. “Good. Stand as close to that as you can.” He turned and shoveled snow with his shield, shaking his head as fog encroached on his vision, his muscles seizing, pain skittering up and down his weary arms with every motion.
The fire went out, but Basch had managed to dig a snow cave in the interim. He undid the metal plates on his skin that siphoned cold from the air, piled his armor by the entrance in a habit ingrained by military service, and took Vaan’s spear from him. The boy’s fingers were frozen to the shaft, and he winced, made a low sound as Basch breathed on them and pried them loose, casting the spear aside.
“Get in there.”
“’m fine,” Vaan muttered- good, something resembling his normal personality- but he crawled in nonetheless. Basch glanced around, wished for a mug of cider, wished that he hadn’t wasted his energy earlier by summoning Shemhazai, and forced himself in beside Vaan, pulling the boy close to him, his arm around Vaan’s chest, the boy’s body sucking warmth from him.
‘Foolish of me to forget that he is desert-born,’ Basch thought, berating himself. The boy had almost certainly never been anywhere this cold before. Their breath mingled in small clouds of steam above, nebulous as Mist, and Basch stared at the clouds, remembering the steam of the hot springs on the Phon Coast.
Vaan warmed slowly, and finally began to shiver, a good sign.
“We’ll find Trickster tomorrow,” Vaan muttered into the darkness. “Can’t hide forever!” Basch made a perfunctory noise of agreement, his enjoyment of this simple physical contact- so long denied in the darkness of Nalbina, when all he had then was the feel of chains on skin- shamefully strong.
Because Vaan was a mere boy, seventeen years old and younger still in the way he acted, and Basch couldn’t look at him- still couldn’t, two months into their journey- without seeing Rek’s tired, terrified face, pale in the moonlight and full of trust in him.
Basch closed his eyes against the memory, and against Vaan’s restless movements against his groin.
More time passed. Vaan ceased shivering, and turned over, resting his head on Basch’s chest, breath tickling his throat. They were warmer, and prospects of surviving the night were becoming ever more feasible.
Then Basch felt himself stiffen against Vaan’s thigh, and that was the final humiliation, this loss of control over himself, this reflexive reaction to human warmth and human contact. To have fallen so low as to react such to a mere boy, to one he had placed under his protection-
It was almost disgusting.
Then Vaan stilled, his thigh pressing inward. Warmth spiraled up Basch’s spine, burst in white sparks behind his eyelids. Shameful. He spoke,
“I apologize,” only to be cut off by the feeling of Vaan moving. He opened his eyes.
Vaan crouched above him, his eyes mischievous and mouth curled in a smug smile, blond hair falling into his eyes and hands planted firmly on either side of Basch’s shoulders. Vaan’s tongue darted out, licked at his lips.
“Don’t apologize,” Vaan said, glancing down. “Kinda flattering. ‘sides, you’re sexy.” Basch made a protesting sound somewhere between a croak and a whine. Vaan shrugged, “What? You’re much better-looking than some of my old tricks,” and the honesty in his voice was heartbreaking.
Basch needed to move. He needed to tell Vaan to get off of him, to apologize for this physical reaction, for Reks, for his failure to keep his brother alive, for the fact that Vaan had been forced to do something so demeaning. Vaan sat down on his belly, Basch’s erection pressing into his leather-clad rump. His smile was wicked.
“You know what the best way to warm up is?” Basch stared. Vaan grinned, completely shameless. “Sex!”
Basch finally found his voice. “Vaan, we really shouldn’t be-“ Vaan placed a finger on his lips, silencing him, his hips rolling back in a movement that really should have been outlawed in all jurisdictions. Basch’s hips twitched, and he banged the back of his head on a rock.
Which did nothing to blunt the sensation of Vaan sliding down his body, undoing his belt and tossing it aside.
“I really must-“ he lunged for Vaan’s wrists, to pull him off, to get away, but Vaan dodged nimbly, and suddenly his hand was inside Basch’s underclothes. Basch’s breath left him in one long exhale, his hips jerking up into Vaan’s grip, into the long, easy strokes of a hand callused by the haft of a spear, thumb flickering over the head, Vaan’s hand skilled and tightening on every upstroke.
“Vaan,” he forced out, “don’t.”
He spent a long moment fighting for breath, and opened his eyes enough to see Vaan’s expression of complete concentration, the way he worried his lip between his strangely white teeth. Then Vaan glanced up at him, smiled slowly, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“But I want to.”
And then he bent and swallowed him in one long motion. Basch’s hands somehow found their way into Vaan’s hair, feeling sand-colored strands pass through his callused palms. It felt like walking out into the Estersand after Nalbina, like having beer for the first time, and somehow like nothing else other than Vaan, Vaan with a mouth as hot as the desert and arrogant assumptions that the world would change for him and the insatiable need for glory.
He became aware that he was groaning, and somehow retained enough lucidity to feel embarrassed about the fact. Vaan was making absolutely sinful noises- wet little slurps and pleased hums-, his eyes closed in something resembling enjoyment, his own hand inside his underclothes, moving languidly, and somehow that pushed him even closer to the precipice.
Vaan swallowed, the muscles of his throat rippling, and that did it. Basch’s hands clenched in his hair, and he emptied himself with a rough sound of mingled bliss and pain, the lights behind his eyelids as bright as the reflection off the sea. Vaan followed him, the warmth of his seed landing on Basch’s leg.
He came back to himself as he felt Vaan’s tongue cleaning him off, then his hand redoing the ties on his shorts. Vaan slunk back up the length of his body, cleaned his swollen and glistening mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed Basch, his tongue slick and clever.
When the long kiss was over, Vaan withdrew, grinning, and folded his arms. “And now we’re warm, so we’ll be ready to hunt Trickster in the morning without having to deal with aching muscles.” Basch blinked up at him, then made an undignified noise as Vaan flopped down on top of him in a graceless sprawl, all bony arms and gangling legs, his head tucked firmly underneath Basch’s chin as if that was where it had belonged all along.
Basch stared at the ceiling of the cave, his hand running restlessly along Vaan’s spine, and resolved never to speak of this again.
He succeeded for a day, until Vaan showed up at his door on Bur-Omisace wearing nothing but a smile.
Author/Artist: aliana_iskassa
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex.
Word Count: 1,410
Summary: Basch stared at the ceiling of the cave, his hand running restlessly along Vaan’s spine, and resolved never to speak of this again.
A/N: The prompt was “Basch/Vaan: Body heat - he's never been anywhere this cold before.”
The Paramina Rift was dark and eerie, the wind howling overhead and shrieking down through the mountain crevasses, and Basch blinked tired eyes, strained by searching for the white of Trickster’s feathers against a backdrop of frozen rivers and snow-laden peaks that had not thawed for a thousand years. He wished that he were back at the holy mountain with the others, but wishing would not make it so.
He turned, and saw that Vaan has fallen behind, the boy’s spear carving a track through the snow. Too exhausted to even scold him for his carelessness, he waded back to the boy’s side, placing a hand on his thin shoulder. Vaan looked up, his pupils dilated, his lips a worrisome shade of blue. There was frost ringing his lips, crusting on his hair, on his leather armor.
“Vaan?” Vaan coughed a little in reply, the sound congested and thick. ‘Damn!’ Basch looked around stupidly- another sign of hypothermia, this feeling of torpidity- for wood that he would not find. He reached to undo the straps holding his shield on his back, and moved to the nearest snowdrift, taking Vaan by the hand.
“Cast fire.” Vaan stared, blinked slowly. Basch shook him, repeated the order. Vaan’s lips moved in the incantation, and a pitiful, guttering flame bloomed between them, fueled only by will. “Good. Stand as close to that as you can.” He turned and shoveled snow with his shield, shaking his head as fog encroached on his vision, his muscles seizing, pain skittering up and down his weary arms with every motion.
The fire went out, but Basch had managed to dig a snow cave in the interim. He undid the metal plates on his skin that siphoned cold from the air, piled his armor by the entrance in a habit ingrained by military service, and took Vaan’s spear from him. The boy’s fingers were frozen to the shaft, and he winced, made a low sound as Basch breathed on them and pried them loose, casting the spear aside.
“Get in there.”
“’m fine,” Vaan muttered- good, something resembling his normal personality- but he crawled in nonetheless. Basch glanced around, wished for a mug of cider, wished that he hadn’t wasted his energy earlier by summoning Shemhazai, and forced himself in beside Vaan, pulling the boy close to him, his arm around Vaan’s chest, the boy’s body sucking warmth from him.
‘Foolish of me to forget that he is desert-born,’ Basch thought, berating himself. The boy had almost certainly never been anywhere this cold before. Their breath mingled in small clouds of steam above, nebulous as Mist, and Basch stared at the clouds, remembering the steam of the hot springs on the Phon Coast.
Vaan warmed slowly, and finally began to shiver, a good sign.
“We’ll find Trickster tomorrow,” Vaan muttered into the darkness. “Can’t hide forever!” Basch made a perfunctory noise of agreement, his enjoyment of this simple physical contact- so long denied in the darkness of Nalbina, when all he had then was the feel of chains on skin- shamefully strong.
Because Vaan was a mere boy, seventeen years old and younger still in the way he acted, and Basch couldn’t look at him- still couldn’t, two months into their journey- without seeing Rek’s tired, terrified face, pale in the moonlight and full of trust in him.
Basch closed his eyes against the memory, and against Vaan’s restless movements against his groin.
More time passed. Vaan ceased shivering, and turned over, resting his head on Basch’s chest, breath tickling his throat. They were warmer, and prospects of surviving the night were becoming ever more feasible.
Then Basch felt himself stiffen against Vaan’s thigh, and that was the final humiliation, this loss of control over himself, this reflexive reaction to human warmth and human contact. To have fallen so low as to react such to a mere boy, to one he had placed under his protection-
It was almost disgusting.
Then Vaan stilled, his thigh pressing inward. Warmth spiraled up Basch’s spine, burst in white sparks behind his eyelids. Shameful. He spoke,
“I apologize,” only to be cut off by the feeling of Vaan moving. He opened his eyes.
Vaan crouched above him, his eyes mischievous and mouth curled in a smug smile, blond hair falling into his eyes and hands planted firmly on either side of Basch’s shoulders. Vaan’s tongue darted out, licked at his lips.
“Don’t apologize,” Vaan said, glancing down. “Kinda flattering. ‘sides, you’re sexy.” Basch made a protesting sound somewhere between a croak and a whine. Vaan shrugged, “What? You’re much better-looking than some of my old tricks,” and the honesty in his voice was heartbreaking.
Basch needed to move. He needed to tell Vaan to get off of him, to apologize for this physical reaction, for Reks, for his failure to keep his brother alive, for the fact that Vaan had been forced to do something so demeaning. Vaan sat down on his belly, Basch’s erection pressing into his leather-clad rump. His smile was wicked.
“You know what the best way to warm up is?” Basch stared. Vaan grinned, completely shameless. “Sex!”
Basch finally found his voice. “Vaan, we really shouldn’t be-“ Vaan placed a finger on his lips, silencing him, his hips rolling back in a movement that really should have been outlawed in all jurisdictions. Basch’s hips twitched, and he banged the back of his head on a rock.
Which did nothing to blunt the sensation of Vaan sliding down his body, undoing his belt and tossing it aside.
“I really must-“ he lunged for Vaan’s wrists, to pull him off, to get away, but Vaan dodged nimbly, and suddenly his hand was inside Basch’s underclothes. Basch’s breath left him in one long exhale, his hips jerking up into Vaan’s grip, into the long, easy strokes of a hand callused by the haft of a spear, thumb flickering over the head, Vaan’s hand skilled and tightening on every upstroke.
“Vaan,” he forced out, “don’t.”
He spent a long moment fighting for breath, and opened his eyes enough to see Vaan’s expression of complete concentration, the way he worried his lip between his strangely white teeth. Then Vaan glanced up at him, smiled slowly, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“But I want to.”
And then he bent and swallowed him in one long motion. Basch’s hands somehow found their way into Vaan’s hair, feeling sand-colored strands pass through his callused palms. It felt like walking out into the Estersand after Nalbina, like having beer for the first time, and somehow like nothing else other than Vaan, Vaan with a mouth as hot as the desert and arrogant assumptions that the world would change for him and the insatiable need for glory.
He became aware that he was groaning, and somehow retained enough lucidity to feel embarrassed about the fact. Vaan was making absolutely sinful noises- wet little slurps and pleased hums-, his eyes closed in something resembling enjoyment, his own hand inside his underclothes, moving languidly, and somehow that pushed him even closer to the precipice.
Vaan swallowed, the muscles of his throat rippling, and that did it. Basch’s hands clenched in his hair, and he emptied himself with a rough sound of mingled bliss and pain, the lights behind his eyelids as bright as the reflection off the sea. Vaan followed him, the warmth of his seed landing on Basch’s leg.
He came back to himself as he felt Vaan’s tongue cleaning him off, then his hand redoing the ties on his shorts. Vaan slunk back up the length of his body, cleaned his swollen and glistening mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed Basch, his tongue slick and clever.
When the long kiss was over, Vaan withdrew, grinning, and folded his arms. “And now we’re warm, so we’ll be ready to hunt Trickster in the morning without having to deal with aching muscles.” Basch blinked up at him, then made an undignified noise as Vaan flopped down on top of him in a graceless sprawl, all bony arms and gangling legs, his head tucked firmly underneath Basch’s chin as if that was where it had belonged all along.
Basch stared at the ceiling of the cave, his hand running restlessly along Vaan’s spine, and resolved never to speak of this again.
He succeeded for a day, until Vaan showed up at his door on Bur-Omisace wearing nothing but a smile.
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Date: 2007-08-01 08:07 am (UTC)I wish I'd found this community sooner.
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Date: 2007-08-01 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-06 01:10 am (UTC)Lovely scene building with the descriptions and Basch's quick-thinking reactions to the cold. The tension within him is spot on - especially with the trouble he has separating Vaan and Reks. Plausible way for the situation to occur also (since we know Basch would never do anything about it on his own) :)
And I loved the mental image this gave: Basch’s hips twitched, and he banged the back of his head on a rock. - Oh Basch, you dumb bunny :)
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Date: 2007-08-06 08:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 07:25 pm (UTC)OHHHH Vaan you little skaaaaank~
You are my heeeero.
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Date: 2008-11-07 02:28 am (UTC)