Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

Visions	By : anyasy Category: Final Fantasy Games > Final Fantasy XII Views: 967 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
November 13. could you endure such pain at any hand but
hers?

[A/N: lol.� Creative
use would dictate I don�t use the �her� in this! Spoilers up to Ridhorana.
Note: It�s likely that there are errors in the version of fics uploaded to this
place � I only edit those posted originally at manic_intent.livejournal.com �
terribly lazy of me, yes.]

And now you�re mine

�� Basch wasn�t
precisely sure what it was that gave everyone the impression that inasmuch as
Balthier�s personality was so� ostentatious in public (really, people could
probably, if they concentrated, likely sense his arrival from miles away)� the
one who truly �led� their particular little private dance was himself.� Was it because he was taller, or more muscular,
or older, or was it the way he couldn�t help but stand near Balthier, whenever
there was even the slightest hint of danger about? Or perhaps it was because
Balthier seemed so� flamboyant� that people instinctively thought that he was
submissive in private (so far from the truth; the sky pirate was as nettlesome
in bed, perhaps worse so; the oddest things could give offense, if Basch didn�t
pay attention, and making it up to him even if he hadn�t intended to give
offense in the first place always took so much time).

�� The truth
was, he never actually paid attention nor cared who was leading and who was
following, so long as they danced (exquisite steps) and as much as he did
prefer being the one on top (to put it physically), he didn�t really care who
was, so long as Balthier understood that they belonged to (with) each other and
that meant to the exclusion of anyone else.�

�� He sensed
Balthier couldn�t understand this � the sky pirate had been brought up in the
intricate architectures of power, in Archades � it was ingrained into him that
there always had to be someone leading, someone following, someone
submitting, someone dominating, in any relationship, any interaction, and he
sought always to be the one in the better position, and he assumed that
everyone else of sufficient will and strength would strive to do the same.

�� So he was�
nonplussed, at best, when Basch seemed content (save for a few rare incidents)
to let him dictate who to lead, who to follow, and it was possibly that which
made Balthier more inclined to follow � to follow was to watch, after all, and
then to understand.� And Basch supposed
he couldn�t blame him � Balthier was young, barely adult, really, and he did do
his best to make sure that the sky pirate enjoyed their dance as much as he.

�� Therefore
when Balthier told him (and so blandly that he had to concentrate to hear the
very faint breathless hitch to the last word that told him that it was taking a
lot of control to sound so clinical) to strip, sit on the polished wooden chair
in their rented Balfonheim room, and open his legs, he did so, without comment,
and watched the pirate blink (and then try so very hard to recover) with some
amusement.�

�� He felt he
could sense how the choreography of this particular two-step was going � when
Balthier hesitated, he slouched a little in his chair (braced against a heavy
table, up against a wall), tilted his head, and crooked his fingers (arched
eyebrow, but no smirk, that would have been a little over the top).� A laugh, from the younger man, then a warm
body straddling his lap (weather-cracked leather) and hands pushing his wrists
down firmly to his sides, when he tried to help the sky pirate with the laces
of his vest.� Vest and shirt discarded
with the sensual grace of a dancer, then warm hands (colorful leather bands on
the left) stroking down his chest, mapping twitching muscle.��

�� Playful nips,
down his shoulder, and a dry, �What happens if someday I tell you to strip in
public and brace yourself against the nearest table?�

�� He pretended
to give this some thought, under the distracting tongue that drew a wet path
from shoulder to collarbone to neck, wishing the exploring hands would go
lower.� �Hn.� Then I will hold you responsible for any mental injury done to
the younger ones, of course.� (Fran seemed unable to be surprised by her
partner, even once when accidentally walking in on one of Balthier�s �ideas�
involving Basch, Bhujerban Xabra brandy and the cockpit of the Strahl �
her only comment being a wry Clean up afterwards).�

�� On the Phon
coast, under the sun?�

�� We�ll have
to look out for piranha in the waters when we wash afterwards.� Sand would be everywhere.�

�� In the taxi
in Archades?�

�� T�will be
you bribing the cab driver.�

�� Deck of one
of those bulky passenger airships.�

�� If you catch
your death of cold, it would be solely your fault.�

�� Another
laugh, and a nuzzle up his chin, a tongue probing in his ear, then lightly
sucking on the lobe � his breath hitched (sensitive, and Balthier knew
it).� �No objections whatsoever?�

�� None, if it
pleases you,� Basch wondered why Balthier even bothered to ask, each time.� Reassurance? Amusement? Ritual? But the
tongue felt good, tickling under his chin (he should shave, but the sky pirate
always seemed to imply he preferred Basch this way).

�� Hips rocked
carefully but firmly against his, and he gasped, stirring, the warm hands down
his spine now, so hot in the cool air.�
�Have a care, Basch.� I may be of
the mind to accept any leeway you may give me.�

�� He inclined
his head, as breath puffed over his scalp, a kiss on his forehead.� �If �tis by your hand and no other, I can
endure anything.�� Only facetious on the
surface, that.� Balthier�s laughter tickled
his neck � a wet tongue, over the life-vein, and a gentle kiss, over the adam�s
apple � he tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, curling fingers into the
arm rests.�

�� A lick over
his nose, and another roll of the hips, and Balthier murmured, �I want to take
you, today.�

�� Basch heard
the unspoken question (may I) � he leaned forward, to draw a wet circle
over the bared chest with his tongue, and smiled against musky skin.� �I am not sure why you feel you must always
ask.�

�� Feh.� There was no question in that.� A jab in his
shoulder, the voice, however, slipping into a playful purr, again, �Growing
deaf in your dotage, sir Knight?�

�� Tomorrow we
leave for the Sun Cryst, so I would appreciate being able to walk,� Basch
replied, mildly � his expression changed not a bit, when Balthier studied him
thoughtfully (it seemed that whatever it was made other people feel he led
their dance, also made Balthier a little� uncertain, whenever the pirate was
given the reins so fully).� �Vaan
actually asked me yesterday whether I noticed how the potions seemed to be
going� missing, so inexplicably.�

�� And if I am
not inclined to be gentle?� Balthier inquired, brushing a kiss over his lips,
teasing and sweet.�

�� Then if Lady
Ashe were to inquire as to the reason behind my limp, �tis you who would be
explaining,� Basch leaned forward, growing impatient, and nipped at a lower lip
� there was a growl, then a rough kiss, a tongue pushing into his throat and
entwining with his own.� When they
broke, he gasped,� �Do you intend to
tease all night?�

�� What if I
am?� Balthier retorted, with a little smirk, when Basch�s eyes narrowed.� �Interested in a little game, Basch?�

�� What game?�
Basch bucked, pointedly, and watched as the pirate arched, with a little hiss,
with some satisfaction.� �We leave on
the morrow, and it is fast approaching dawn.�

�� We�ve time
enough, I warrant,� Balthier drew a finger down his chest, circled a nipple,
playful, grinned at the soft, inviting purr.�
�If you say you can endure anything, I wish to see how much you can
take, Basch, up until you can no longer tolerate my lead, for tonight.�

�� If you intend
to tease, I feel I must remind you that you are the one flying the Strahl,
when we have to leave, and crashing in a Jagd sea due to your lack of sleep is
not my idea of a good time.�

�� Just watch �
Vaan will have us taking little detours on his clan business,� Balthier
smirked, as he slipped off Basch�s lap, bending his head to a nipple and
lapping slowly at it, chuckling when the knight twitched with a groan.� �We�ll have time enough to rest.�

�� A pointless
game,� Basch moaned, as the sky pirate turned his attention to the other.� �With no end or goal.�

�� It ends if
you cannot control yourself before I choose to have you,� Balthier sucked, then
smirked, around flesh, at the hitched gasp.�
�The goal� hn.� I�ll give Ashe
back her ring, if you win.� I know you
don�t like it that I asked it of her.�
If you lose, I�ll ask you a favor of which you cannot refuse.�

�� The
ring.� Rasler�s ring.� Basch found himself nodding, in agreement,
then he added, cautiously, �What favor?�

�� I�ll think
of something,� Balthier murmured, tracing his way down, strumming his tongue on
heaving muscle, then resting his cheek, briefly, on a spread thigh, kneeling on
the tiled floor before the other man and stroking a finger up the vein of the
flushed prick admiringly.� �It constantly
surprises me how you hadn�t been spoken for, when I met you.�

�� Wars aren�t
very good for finding� uhh� life-mates�� He watched Balthier smirk, against his
skin, at the catch in his words � this was an old game, of theirs, one he was
familiar with and one that he usually lost (though, he supposed, so did
Balthier, and far more loudly).�

�� I am sure
there are many who would beg to differ.� The finger traced down again, circled
sacs, and back up, around the fleshy tip, back down, to curls.� Basch curled his fingers into the edges of
the seat, and grit his teeth.� �Lady
Ashe, for one.�

�� Not� a fair
game,� he muttered, in choked gasps, as Balthier followed the path his finger
had traced with the tip of his tongue, holding Basch�s gaze with shameless invitation
and promise, all the while, up until he was nuzzling coarse wheat-gold
hair.�

�� A tongue
flicked over the base, a chuckle, then, �Far be it for me to be unfair, then.�
A kiss, then a purr, as Basch made a sound of protest, when the sky pirate rocked
back onto his haunches.� �Touch
yourself, Basch.� Perhaps you can handle
that better?�

�� He frowned,
hesitated, then stole his hand down.�
When Balthier seemed content to watch (though with obvious hunger), he
shrugged, grasped himself, and began to pump in a familiar rhythm, stoking
pleasure through his veins � but careful to keep it slow, well below the
edge.� Another purr, and a whispered,
�Beautiful� which made his heart beat a little faster � then a wet tongue,
lashing sensitive skin, between his legs � Basch arched, hissing.� �Balthier��

�� Don�t stop
that,� Balthier chided, nipping at the skin of his wrist in reproach, then
licked down again when he continued (slower than before, angling his hand so he
could have a clear view, soft brown hair between his thighs).� Warm, wet, and infuriatingly gentle � he was
aware of a whimper from his throat, of protest � gasping, when the responding
laugh breathed warmth over sensitive skin, then there was a hot tongue, darting
between his fingers to get at throbbing flesh.�
When he tried to pull his hand away, fingers over his wrist stilled him,
and indicated with a jerk that he continue.

�� Bal�thier��
Another whimper, at the whispered �Close?� and a tongue, Gods, running
up over knuckles, then stroking under foreskin � his head snapped back, with a
moan that was too much plea and too little demand.� �Balthier!� A nip that stung, on his wrist, when he slowed.� �If we continue I�ll��

�� That�s
rather the point,� Balthier reminded him, lazily, his hands going from stroking
thighs down to his trousers, taking out a small pot.� Salve.� Cold fingers (a
hiss) at his opening � he froze, then groaned, as lips wrapped around the
fleshy head at the moment of intrusion � angling, uncomfortable, as they probed
and stretched.�

�� Uhh�
Balthier, I�ll� aah�� A low cry, as fingers stabbed against there � he
bucked his hips, fingers jerking at himself � a spike of pleasure.� When he could speak, gasping, toes pushing
against the legs of the chair, he bit out, �Hah.� Have mercy.�

�� Giving up,
already?� Balthier arched an eyebrow, stroking, his lips against knuckles.� �Remember, the ring.�

�� You�ll� aah�
give it back to her, eventually,� Basch muttered, arching his back, supporting
his weight with a hand against one of the armrests � the other tensed about
himself.

�� So sure?�

�� You lack the
sense of cruelty required to� keep something like that,� Basch pointed out, and
Balthier grinned, and added another finger, a little more roughly than was
really appropriate � he let out a strangled gasp, feeling his body struggle to
accommodate the digit, then forced himself to relax.� �Balthier.� Please.�

�� When you beg
so easily, �tis no fun at all,� Balthier drawled, though his breath hitched,
eyes darkening with lust.� �Keep this
up.� A lick, over sluggishly moving fingers, then the free hand (stroking
muscle) disappeared.� Fabric
sounds.� Basch struggled to pay
attention.�

�� H�aah�!� a
guttural, drawn-out moan, when thick heat was pushed into him � he closed his
eyes, panting, wrapping legs around the slim waist, concentrating on the
whispering words against his ear � comfort, assurance, he couldn�t quite make
them out � pain (he could count the number of times in his life that he had
ever been on the receiving end on his fingers; and twice only, before this,
with Balthier, and always slightly drunk).�
Endurable pain (sharp, though, and his eyes threatened to tear), and the
back of the chair dug into his shoulders.�

�� Basch�
relax,� the other words indistinct, through clenched teeth � a hand, tight on
his shoulder, the other against his hips, filled to the hilt.� �Aah, Basch�� a moan, muffled against his
neck, heavy pants.� �Tell me when I can�
aah� blast� when I can��

�� The pain
seemed to take forever to ebb � but when it did (finally) Basch lolled his head
against the back of the chair, taking deep, slow breaths (pleasure, harder to
tolerate, for his self-control).� When
his throat finally decided (despite a stroking tongue) to obey his brain, he
rasped, �Now,� eyes fluttering open, and felt the nod, against feverish-hot
flesh.�

�� Slow,
languid, deep thrusts (the way he preferred it, this exquisite intimacy; the
furniture marks each slide with a rap against wood and stone).� Balthier�s eyes were fixed between them, at
his hand on himself (slippery now), grunting, each time he sheathed himself all
the way, angling, until finally he hit that (a rasping growl, as a
response, and a chuckle, hissed out between clenched teeth).� �Please� Balthier�� each breath a plaintive
moan, that drew an answering gasp, from above; the grip on his shoulder became
painful.

�� I want to
see you shatter,� Balthier was whispering, into his ear, breathy and hot, �Can
you do that, Basch?� When he nodded, coughing, there was an acknowledging nip,
on his ear, and the pace increased, (shallower thrusts, but still slow, and all
perfectly aimed); he moved his hand faster, a little rougher, closing his eyes
again, as he felt the tension build and anchor in his belly.� A nip on his arm (hurt) made him look up,
sharply � into dazed eyes and a hungry, bared-teeth grin, and a gasped,
�Watch,� then a moan, and a glance down, �Gods.� Basch.�

�� Hearing his
name breathed like that (erotic-reverent-prayer) was nearly enough � it
took a bite, on his chest (Gods he hoped his vest would cover that), and a
sharp thrust (hurt-good) and a moan (from him, likely) before he tensed,
shuddering, loosing his hold on himself, thought swept away by a torrent of
ecstasy; slippery wet; there was a harsh cry, and he wanted to say too loud,
Balthier but he realized it was from his throat.� Balthier�s eyes were narrowed, and he flushed, even limp and
drained from release, as eyes raked (dark-hot) over him, then the other man
lowered his eyes, sucked in a breath, and thrust hard (choked cry � himself)
twice; heat, deep inside.� A gasp.� He brought up hands to shoulders and waist,
to steady the other man; when Balthier withdrew, they made for the bed
(unsteady legs).�

�� The sky
pirate rolled partially over him (sweat, sticky) and rested his chin on Basch�s
chest � his eyes closed, until his breathing slowed � then he laughed
(breathless).� �You really should give
in to me less often.� �Tis less fun,
when you do.�

�� Basch wanted
to tell Balthier his real reason � he�s scared (just a little) of losing a bird
as wild as he, who could fly from his shoulder away, forever, at any moment on
a whim; if there had to be parting, he would rather it not be on scruples such
as this.� Not after the moment he had
realized that as much as he had given of himself freely, so had Balthier
(Balfonheim, with the women).� Wary of
the sky pirate�s moods, however, and not of the disposition (not now,
sleepy-sated) to argue, he made instead a noncommittal sound, and stroked
fingers through sweat-soaked hair.�

�� And he
remembered, when Balthier�s lip twisted down (just for a moment) that even if
his lover was younger by far than he; he was intelligent beyond his years (and
just wise enough, perhaps, to have sufficient perception).� Eyes flickered away to the wall, then down
to his chin.� �You are preoccupied with
the part of our agreement which involves me having the freedom, at any moment,
to leave.�

�� He
nodded.� Even thinking about it brought
pain (and this pain, �tis hard to bear).�

�� What I look
for in a mate, Basch� to use the rather quaint term the Viera have� is not a
slave to my whim.� Balthier murmured, bringing up one of the knight�s
sword-roughened hands to his lips, nibbling on the pad of a finger.� �Just so you know.� Strength you have, and looks, and wit, but as I will suffer no
master, so will I suffer no one to see me as one.� If we must fight, so we should.�
And if I might someday choose to leave, then so I will, regardless of
whether we quarrel.�

�� I do not
like to��

�� I know,�
Balthier sighed.� �Ashe slaps you in the
waterways, and you turn the other cheek.�
Vaan tries to punch you in Nalbina, and you don�t even shield your
face.� And then we run across a bandit
in the Highwaste who takes a stab at Penelo, and your sword�s in his belly
before he can even bring up his spear to parry.�

�� That has
nothing to�� Basch stopped, and smiled, wryly.�
�Be that so.� I do not like those
I care about to think ill of me.� He has lost far too many he has cared about,
in his years of life (the war, the raids); was it too much to ask that he may
be allowed to live the rest of his life with those few who were left in peace?

�� So,�
Balthier said (and only half playful), �What happens when I get upset about you
not wanting me to be upset with you?�

�� T�will take
me a while to untangle that riddle,� Basch stroked fingers down from hair to
arm, tracing scars.� So many, for one so
young (small wonder Balthier was the only one of their party to wear so
much).� ��Tis a paradox you have been
unkind enough to present me with, Balthier.�
I cannot run from the question, or risk your ire; yet if I argue, I may
yet spark your temper.�

�� Well.� You owe me a favor, of anything I may ask,�
Balthier said, poking him on the nose.

�� True, though
it was given under unfair circumstance and duress,� Basch arched an
eyebrow.� �Out with it, then.�

�� When you
were angry with me the last time in Rabanastre, when we agreed afterwards��

�� I said some
things which were unworthy.�

�� You did, but
at least you were� well, I felt, that you were treating me as an equal � as
much as you made me angry.� I want that
again, rather than subservience.� Can
you do that?� Ah.� Was that why
Balthier always seemed so willing to pick fights, to ask of him such outrageous
favors? He sought confrontation all along� a confirmation of equality.

�� You want to
be angry?� Basch grinned, when Balthier narrowed his eyes.� �I speak in jest.� I understand.� I will
try.� A soft kiss, on flesh, for his agreement (though also a faint, wry smile
� Balthier recognized that even Basch�s submission on this issue was because it
so pleased him).

�� So,� the sky
pirate said, thoughtfully, after a while spent listening to their mingled
breathing, �What would you really do, if I told you to strip in public and
brace yourself against a table?�

�� Basch
laughed.� �Probably pretend not to have
heard.�

�� Oh, come
on.� Tell me.�

�� Truly.�

�� You�re
boring.�

��

-fin-
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Visions