FFXII Fic: Foreign Extraction, Chapter 2 (Basch/Lupin)
Good god, as the first bit of porn I’ve written in months, you’da thunk this might have been a bit more cheerful. And also, you’d expect more porn and less emotional consequences. Bah, my brain is failing me here.
But in any case, this is for the fabulous logistika_nyx, she who keeps reviving the moribund Knots series and who keeps writing fabulous fic for the ffxii fanom as a whole. Darling, I do hope you enjoy this. ♥
Title: Foreign Extraction, Chapter 2
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII, Harry Potter
Series: Foreign Extraction
Characters/Pairings: Basch/Lupin, Others
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Temptation never completely obliterates nostalgia. (A new series of cross-overs and interactions between the FFXII cast and those of other worlds.)
***
They set aside the rules first, a ban on biting being chief among them.
Remus is discreet as he explains just why, his eyes constantly being cast away. Ever the school teacher, he looks at his hands, at the pads of his fingers, as he explains as thoroughly as he can. History, entomology, genealogy, geography-- too much, perhaps, for the course of a night but he will be not make the mistake of endangering innocents yet again.
Some part of him, though, some strange part still expects to be laughed at after the fact. Some part expects to find an arm roughly drifting around his shoulders, dark eyes bright with laughter, a voice ribbing him eagerly-- God, Moony, you could give Professor McGorgon a lesson on how to bore someone to tears--
But the man across from him-- Basch in his own world, unnamed in this one still-- merely smiles and nods his assent.
His manner is such a change from what Remus has known so far. And he ought to considerate a blessing, yes.
“This means nothing,” he reminds Basch tiredly, the dictates of the night already set. “Merely a short interlude before we go on. Nothing but a moment’s rest.”
And Basch’s lips shift into a sort of lopsided smile and murmur, “I ask for nothing but that.”
It’s quick and brief, what comes afterwards, even for something meant as a respite from the battles they've both fled. There are no pyrotechnics, no displays of virility or versatility-- simply two middle aged men grappling with one another, sharp teeth carefully kept hidden behind their lips. And even as Remus surrenders to the feel of Basch’s tongue and Basch’s thighs, he keeps his eyes open and his mouth shut and does his best not to relive the past.
He thinks he hears Basch whisper a name in the crook of his neck at one point: soft and hoarse, sibilant and spirant, foreigner and riddled with doubled esses. If Remus had cared to, he could have distinguished it but he knows enough of his own selfishness to know he wouldn’t give a damn.
He knows he whispers another name himself and hopes even Dora would not blame him.
And afterwards, when they roll away from each other, their skin damp with sweat and their legs still tangled, strange phrases rise up and beg to be whispered, like ghosts, like phantoms, like the dead.
I’m sorry, for one.
Forgive me, for another.
I didn’t mean to hasten your end.
“Thank you, Basch,” he says quietly.
“You are welcome, Remus,” his new lover returns with equal gentility.
And through the darkness they lie in, Remus can already hear the hitch in his voice as it hesitates over the last exhalation.
But in any case, this is for the fabulous logistika_nyx, she who keeps reviving the moribund Knots series and who keeps writing fabulous fic for the ffxii fanom as a whole. Darling, I do hope you enjoy this. ♥
Title: Foreign Extraction, Chapter 2
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII, Harry Potter
Series: Foreign Extraction
Characters/Pairings: Basch/Lupin, Others
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Temptation never completely obliterates nostalgia. (A new series of cross-overs and interactions between the FFXII cast and those of other worlds.)
***
They set aside the rules first, a ban on biting being chief among them.
Remus is discreet as he explains just why, his eyes constantly being cast away. Ever the school teacher, he looks at his hands, at the pads of his fingers, as he explains as thoroughly as he can. History, entomology, genealogy, geography-- too much, perhaps, for the course of a night but he will be not make the mistake of endangering innocents yet again.
Some part of him, though, some strange part still expects to be laughed at after the fact. Some part expects to find an arm roughly drifting around his shoulders, dark eyes bright with laughter, a voice ribbing him eagerly-- God, Moony, you could give Professor McGorgon a lesson on how to bore someone to tears--
But the man across from him-- Basch in his own world, unnamed in this one still-- merely smiles and nods his assent.
His manner is such a change from what Remus has known so far. And he ought to considerate a blessing, yes.
“This means nothing,” he reminds Basch tiredly, the dictates of the night already set. “Merely a short interlude before we go on. Nothing but a moment’s rest.”
And Basch’s lips shift into a sort of lopsided smile and murmur, “I ask for nothing but that.”
It’s quick and brief, what comes afterwards, even for something meant as a respite from the battles they've both fled. There are no pyrotechnics, no displays of virility or versatility-- simply two middle aged men grappling with one another, sharp teeth carefully kept hidden behind their lips. And even as Remus surrenders to the feel of Basch’s tongue and Basch’s thighs, he keeps his eyes open and his mouth shut and does his best not to relive the past.
He thinks he hears Basch whisper a name in the crook of his neck at one point: soft and hoarse, sibilant and spirant, foreigner and riddled with doubled esses. If Remus had cared to, he could have distinguished it but he knows enough of his own selfishness to know he wouldn’t give a damn.
He knows he whispers another name himself and hopes even Dora would not blame him.
And afterwards, when they roll away from each other, their skin damp with sweat and their legs still tangled, strange phrases rise up and beg to be whispered, like ghosts, like phantoms, like the dead.
I’m sorry, for one.
Forgive me, for another.
I didn’t mean to hasten your end.
“Thank you, Basch,” he says quietly.
“You are welcome, Remus,” his new lover returns with equal gentility.
And through the darkness they lie in, Remus can already hear the hitch in his voice as it hesitates over the last exhalation.