Improbable (FFX, Jecht/Braska, Strawberry)
Title: Improbable
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Theme: Strawberry
Characters/Pairings: Braska, Jecht (Jecht/Braska)
Wordcount: ~200
Notes: I can't remember if two entries a week both count in the final running, but whatever. The first one is the one that counts, if both can't. This one just hit me as an afterthought.
Jecht tasted, improbably, of strawberries. Braska wasn't quite sure what had led him to initiate the kiss, but it was that which lent him a little more confidence. Jecht opened his mouth a little: strawberries and the faintest hint of alcohol even though he wasn't supposed to be drinking. Braska kept his eyes closed, just drinking it all in: the confidence of Jecht's kiss, the teasing as Jecht bit gently at his lower lip and tugged with his teeth. Jecht's fingers were closed tight around his shoulder, the only clue that Jecht was as deep into it as he was.
When they pulled back, it was like surfacing, coming up out of the water and breathing freely. Braska could taste strawberries and alcohol, still, the bitter and the sweet. Jecht looked at him strangely: perhaps it was amusement, or perhaps regret.
"Ready then?" he asked, because Auron had already gone on ahead, and he had to clear his throat because his voice came out embarassingly husky.
Jecht smirked at him, and Braska had to grip his staff tightly to resist the urge to touch, to taste again, to revel in those moments when he was grounded and real and not a man on the way to die. "Ready."
And so they went on.
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Theme: Strawberry
Characters/Pairings: Braska, Jecht (Jecht/Braska)
Wordcount: ~200
Notes: I can't remember if two entries a week both count in the final running, but whatever. The first one is the one that counts, if both can't. This one just hit me as an afterthought.
Jecht tasted, improbably, of strawberries. Braska wasn't quite sure what had led him to initiate the kiss, but it was that which lent him a little more confidence. Jecht opened his mouth a little: strawberries and the faintest hint of alcohol even though he wasn't supposed to be drinking. Braska kept his eyes closed, just drinking it all in: the confidence of Jecht's kiss, the teasing as Jecht bit gently at his lower lip and tugged with his teeth. Jecht's fingers were closed tight around his shoulder, the only clue that Jecht was as deep into it as he was.
When they pulled back, it was like surfacing, coming up out of the water and breathing freely. Braska could taste strawberries and alcohol, still, the bitter and the sweet. Jecht looked at him strangely: perhaps it was amusement, or perhaps regret.
"Ready then?" he asked, because Auron had already gone on ahead, and he had to clear his throat because his voice came out embarassingly husky.
Jecht smirked at him, and Braska had to grip his staff tightly to resist the urge to touch, to taste again, to revel in those moments when he was grounded and real and not a man on the way to die. "Ready."
And so they went on.