Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Hand Holdin Fuckin	By : mayofish Category: Final Fantasy XIV > Het - Male/Female Views: 1373 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XIV or its characters. I will make no money off of my midget porn.

Chapter List
- 1-Hand Holdin Fuckin
- 1
There was alcohol in their veins. Just enough to slow their movements, slur their speech and tint their cheeks. Yda was a giggly mess but it couldn't cover her yawns. She was leaning against a wall waiting for Papalymo to come back with their room keys so they could get some sleep. Maybe she wouldn't have a hangover in the morning that way. Papalymo fumbled with his coin pouch as he paid the man at the desk and then approached Yda. She straightened up and met him half way, both proud of themselves for not stumbling.
“Get the rooms alright?”
A pause and he looked down at the single key in his hands. “R-rooms? I spent nearly all my gil paying for all the food you bought! You can get your own room.”
Yda laughed but it came out awkwardly, “I mean, I guess we can share one if you need to save your gil...” The meet each others eyes and both found themselves blushing. Yda rubbed the back of her neck and looked away first. Yda had absolutely no gil.
Papalymo cleared his throat, “A-aye... I do need to save my gil... Wait...do you mean to tell me you are out of gil, again?”
Yda glanced back at him and offered him a slight smirk before heading off for them to find the room. Papalymo grumbled but followed after her. The mess of halls and doors are much more complex when one is drunk. They somehow managed to find it and Papalymo opened the door after some difficultly with Yda laughing at him the whole time. She walked in first and plopped herself down onto the bed. Papalymo started to set down his bags and staff before taking a seat in a chair to remove his gauntlets and boots. He had little trouble besides his heavy eyes and slow fingers — Yda, though, was struggling terribly with the buckles on her boots. She had gotten a few of the straps undone by the time Papalymo finished with his and he chuckled at her.
Yda's boots seemed to be very drunk person proof. A good thing maybe if she was fighting drunks but Papalymo knelt down to help her. He fumbled with the mess of straps and buckles holding the heavy armor together and wanted to berate her for wearing such complex boots — and with those shorts! But he couldn't take his concentration of them to help, least he lose his place. After they both struggled together, Yda maybe causing more problems than helping, they finally managed to free Yda from her impractical steel boots. She tossed them to side rather violently and they clattered noisily.
Papalymo let his hands linger on her skin and then stood. He didn't move away from her, just watched her face. He furrowed his brows. His head was hazy and he couldn't read her expression with her mask. His eyes glanced down at her lips and then back up at her mask. He reached out slowly to push it up and his fingers trailed down her cheek. The air was heavy and the room spun slightly. She leaned into his touch with a sigh and met his eyes. Papalymo found his gaze going back to her lips. He moved closer to her and then pressed his lips softly against hers. She kissed back, slowly, softly and unlike her; her hands wrapping around his body and pulling him close.
He let his hands wander, allowing them to move under her shirt and rub the skin of her back. She shivered, trying to undo his robes but struggling. His hands trailed up her sides, darting under her undershirt until he was caressing her breasts. She moaned softly, not breaking the kiss as her fingers still fumbled with his robes. He pulled at her nipples and then his lips moved across her cheek and then down her neck. He paused there, sucking and nipping softly while he pushed up her shirt.
Yda stopped struggling with Papalymo's robes to allow him to pull off her top. He didn't give her much time to get back to work trying to undress him and instead pressed his lips to her breast. He wrapped his lips around her nipple and her fingers hesitated on his clothing as she hissed. His other hand fluttered across her stomach and slipped into her shorts. Yda threw her head back, giving up on his robes and instead just clutching them as his fingertips danced across her clit.
He teased her until her thighs quivered and then pushed her back to lay down on the bed. He undid his robes and pants without a second thought, setting them to the side and then crawling onto the bed with her. Yda pulled him down into a kiss. Papalymo leaned back and she whimpered. He took in her body and not often did he really get to look at her. He hoped that he would at least remember this when the alcohol-daze cleared.
“I want this, Yda — I want you,” Papalymo's voice was hoarse. Yda chuckled softly, reaching out and intertwining their fingers. She pulled him close and he fit easily between her thighs. She reached down between them to help him slid into her. He jerked his hips sharply and squeezed her hand. He pushed his face into her chest, one arm wrapped around her back and the other still holding her hand. He groaned, feeling her around him and she rolled her hips sharply. He caught his breath enough to start moving his hips, starting with slow thrusts so he wouldn't lose himself to the feeling.
Yda held him close, loud moans escaping her lips without a care. She met his movements and for once, she was simply enjoying the slowness of it all. The feel was simple and perfect; something different for the two of them. She tightened her grip on his hand and he grunted. He felt her tightening around him and spend up his pace, feeling both of them getting close. The feeling was new, enhanced by their slightly drunken state. Papalymo slipped the hand that wasn't intertwined with Yda's between them, rubbing her clit and it didn't take long before she was shuddering as her orgasm overtook her. He followed quickly, spilling inside of her.
The both laid there panting before Yda pulled Papalymo up to cuddle with her. He pulled the blankets around them and soon, she was snoring — their hands still laced together.
- 1
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Hand Holdin Fuckin