Yubberducky's X-mas Gift!
In the tradition of old soviets,I give you your belated gift. More for New Years rather than Christmas. Sorry it took me so long! Not my usual schtick, but I tried my best.
Title: Just a Little
Genere: Final Fantasy XII, het, M/F
Pairing: Basch/Ashe
Warning: R...Nc-17-ish, not worksafe
Summary: Basch reflects upon his relationship with Ashe, and her need for him. Does she need him? Smex ensues. 'Nuff said. Ploy for shameless pr0n, don't look too deep, you'll hit your head.
Just a Little
It was the way he ran his fingers down her naked spine that made her cry out like that; the way he cupped her small breast in his large, calloused hand that made her forget more and more. Her small, trembling fingers clutching at the tufts of hair at his neck, he felt their tremors, so he reached up to hold them.
Held her until her tremors stopped plaguing her body. Held her until her tears stopped wetting his bare chest, and the next night, the next week, when ever they came together next-it would be the same. He was losing his own game.
How he loved her so when she arched up into him, looking at him with lust glazed eyes. Loved her so much it clotted his throat and made it hard to breathe. She was his princess, his charge which he had been trusted to protect. If it meant having to do this to protect her, he would. But he wasn’t kidding anyone; he wanted her just as well. Wanted to take her broken wings and kiss her, hold her until she could fly once again.
Just a bird in a cage, trapped in her own bodily sorrow. She made love to him so she could escape. He obliged so he could be closer to her, even just a little bit more.
She moaned when he pressed deep into her, as if she could really feel. Her slender, sweat slicked legs slithering on the bed sheets, toes curling. Fingernails digging into his sunburned back in her lustful cry to hold on to something physical. Don’t confuse, she was not a wanton woman, but a melting one, malleable to any man who would hold her. Through this, she could forget, even if only for just a short while.
When he buried his face into her neck-she would not let him kiss her, not ever-he could feel her racing heartbeat against her wet skin, muscles standing out on her skin as she strained in her passion.
And sometimes she would call out his name, rather than his. He loved his late king, but he was competing with a dead man, the pain could not be measured. Sometimes his heart would leap into his throat at the sound; he would allow himself a selfish thought. And he felt like he was winning, little by little, he was piecing together the pieces of her soul, of her heart that was caught in the gates of the underworld.
And as he released into her, a cry tore itself from his throat. He took all he could. She would be a queen soon, too busy and possibly-if not definitely married soon. He would take what he could while it still lasted, because it would be gone soon. Like a capricious wind. In his bliss, he had a fickle thought. The king had never remained alive long enough to consummate his marriage, and the one who had taken her virginity was…
“Basch…” She murmured, wrapping her long, wisp-like arms around him. “Basch, thank you.” She whispered softly to him,
“For everything.”
*************************
Hope you like it! *wince* I tried! Happy New Year, dear.
Title: Just a Little
Genere: Final Fantasy XII, het, M/F
Pairing: Basch/Ashe
Warning: R...Nc-17-ish, not worksafe
Summary: Basch reflects upon his relationship with Ashe, and her need for him. Does she need him? Smex ensues. 'Nuff said. Ploy for shameless pr0n, don't look too deep, you'll hit your head.
Just a Little
It was the way he ran his fingers down her naked spine that made her cry out like that; the way he cupped her small breast in his large, calloused hand that made her forget more and more. Her small, trembling fingers clutching at the tufts of hair at his neck, he felt their tremors, so he reached up to hold them.
Held her until her tremors stopped plaguing her body. Held her until her tears stopped wetting his bare chest, and the next night, the next week, when ever they came together next-it would be the same. He was losing his own game.
How he loved her so when she arched up into him, looking at him with lust glazed eyes. Loved her so much it clotted his throat and made it hard to breathe. She was his princess, his charge which he had been trusted to protect. If it meant having to do this to protect her, he would. But he wasn’t kidding anyone; he wanted her just as well. Wanted to take her broken wings and kiss her, hold her until she could fly once again.
Just a bird in a cage, trapped in her own bodily sorrow. She made love to him so she could escape. He obliged so he could be closer to her, even just a little bit more.
She moaned when he pressed deep into her, as if she could really feel. Her slender, sweat slicked legs slithering on the bed sheets, toes curling. Fingernails digging into his sunburned back in her lustful cry to hold on to something physical. Don’t confuse, she was not a wanton woman, but a melting one, malleable to any man who would hold her. Through this, she could forget, even if only for just a short while.
When he buried his face into her neck-she would not let him kiss her, not ever-he could feel her racing heartbeat against her wet skin, muscles standing out on her skin as she strained in her passion.
And sometimes she would call out his name, rather than his. He loved his late king, but he was competing with a dead man, the pain could not be measured. Sometimes his heart would leap into his throat at the sound; he would allow himself a selfish thought. And he felt like he was winning, little by little, he was piecing together the pieces of her soul, of her heart that was caught in the gates of the underworld.
And as he released into her, a cry tore itself from his throat. He took all he could. She would be a queen soon, too busy and possibly-if not definitely married soon. He would take what he could while it still lasted, because it would be gone soon. Like a capricious wind. In his bliss, he had a fickle thought. The king had never remained alive long enough to consummate his marriage, and the one who had taken her virginity was…
“Basch…” She murmured, wrapping her long, wisp-like arms around him. “Basch, thank you.” She whispered softly to him,
“For everything.”
*************************
Hope you like it! *wince* I tried! Happy New Year, dear.