Final Fantasy XIII: How Fang got her scars
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIII
Title: How Fang got her scars
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Oerba Yun Fang, Oerba Dia Vanille
Notes: Pre-game. Spoiler-free. Counting down the days until the English release, and hopefully a new influx of fic.
***
Fang was feeling rather sorry for herself by the time she made it back to Oerba Village. First of all, an unfortunate encounter with a pudding monster had left her covered in slime. A subsequent ambush by a pair of wolves was even more of a disaster and her right arm was a bloody mess. And then there were the flowers that she had collected, intended as a surprise for Vanille. Said flowers had been lost in the first scuffle, and now Fang had not only lost out on the chance to score points (Vanille could be very affectionate when she was grateful), she had to endure a humiliating visit to Doc.
Doc was a grizzled old man who treated the sick and injured of the village. He also had a tendency to lecture. Having spent more than a fair number of visits in his clinic, Fang was now well-versed in the art of nodding in agreement while ignoring Doc’s aural assault on her ears. She was still hurt, however, that he took one look at her bedraggled appearance and roared in laughter before stitching up the claw wounds on her shoulder.
He counted out three potion sachets. “You know the drill. Take one now, one after dinner, and one after breakfast tomorrow. Try not to move the arm for the next few days, and I certainly don’t want you swinging a spear until the stitches are out.”
Fang grinned. “Does this mean I don’t have to do chores?”
Doc scratched at his chin thoughtfully while eyeing his handiwork. “You’re off duty for today and tomorrow. And get Vanille to help you get all that gunk off. Now shoo, you’re getting slime all over my floor.”
“Thanks Doc!” Fang waved goodbye and strode out, whistling happily. No chores, and an excuse to get Vanille into the bath with her. Suddenly the day didn’t seem so bad anymore.
***
“Vanille! I’m back!” Fang announced as she stepped into the house. Chopping noises in the kitchen told her Vanille was preparing their evening meal.
Vanille looked up with a smile, which immediately turned into an expression of abject horror. “Fang! What on earth happened?”
“Uh, heheh, well, there was this accident…” Fang gave a guilty grin and raised her right hand to scratch the back of her head, winced and thought twice.
“You’re covered in slime. And blood!” Vanille rushed up to get a better look.
“Um, yeah, but I already went to see Doc and he patched me - OW!” Fang yelled when Vanille prodded the bandages. “Don’t poke it!”
Vanille pouted. “This is what happens when you run off and do dangerous things without me.”
“I’m sorry?” Fang did her best to look properly chastised. “Anyway I can’t move my arm and I need you to help clean up.”
“Yuck!”
“Please? I love you,” Fang said hopefully.
Vanille frowned, but it was more for show than with any ire. “Okay, but don’t think I’ve forgiven you!”
Fang just grinned in reply, and after a few moments Vanille gave a laugh. “You’re hopeless sometimes.” She knelt down to unfasten the buckle of the belt, then slipped the sari off. Boots followed, then Fang’s shirt, which was a bit of a struggle, and lastly her underwear. Fang told her to leave the bandages on.
Once Fang was naked, Vanille took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom. She ran the water for bit until it was warm, then pushed Fang in before stripping off and joining her.
Vanille grabbed the shower and ran it over Fang to wash off the worst of the mess. It felt good to be under the warm spray. Back, arms, legs, Fang felt halfway decent again.
There was a tug on her arm. “Kneel down,” Vanille said. “I’ll start with your hair.”
Fang obliged, closed her eyes and soon Vanille’s fingers had worked up a thick lather. She murmured appreciatively and Vanille giggled.
“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you.”
“Definitely.”
“Don’t get too used to it,” Vanille scolded, but Fang could hear the affection in her voice.
Vanille rinsed off the suds, and repeated the process again, humming to herself. Then she stood Fang up, and looked over her critically.
“What,” asked Fang, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing,” smiled Vanille mysteriously. She turned Fang around. Behind her, Fang could hear Vanille squeezing soap. Then there was a hand on her hip, and the firm touch of a washcloth on her back. Vanille’s movements were methodical, covering every square inch of her back and shoulders in intense concentration, but there was a sensuality about being washed that was driving a slow heat in Fang’s belly.
Vanille’s hands moved lower, and Fang felt her breath hitch as the cloth traveled over sensitized skin. She tried to hold still as Vanille scrubbed her legs gently. Was it just her imagination or was the touch a bit more lingering than it had to be?
“Turn around,” came Vanille’s voice, and Fang did so obediently. Vanille was kneeling down, but when she glanced up to meet Fang’s eyes with a little wicked smile she had that look and Fang felt her pulse accelerate. Slowly, and with long strokes, Vanille continued her ministrations from her feet and worked her way up. Fingers gently caressed her calves, thighs, following the clean skin uncovered by the soapy cloth, ghosted past her hipbone and over her ribs. Fang bit her lip and resisted the urge to reach out or squirm or both, but luckily Vanille had shifted over to her arms and was now wiping down each finger with maddening thoroughness. Only when that was done did Vanille return to her shoulders, taking care to avoid the bandages, and then finally to the sides of her breasts and over, scraping peaks that made Fang shiver.
If Vanille took notice of Fang’s physical reaction, she paid no heed. She pulled Fang down slightly, raised the cloth to her face before saying, “Close your eyes.” It was quick, and before Fang had a chance to let out her breath warm water was already sluicing down her head and face, taking away the suds. Vanille turned her around as she ran the shower across her body.
“There now,” she announced, as she would after finishing of a chore or skinning an animal, and peered up and down Fang to admire the results of her labours. “All clean,” she pronounced happily, and leaned in on tiptoe, flush against Fang, lips brushing her ear.
The contact was delicious and Fang wrapped her arms around Vanille’s waist to pull them even closer together. She sighed, loving the feel of Vaniile’s body against her own, and turned her head to nuzzle Vanille’s cheek. They stood there for a moment, before Vanille leaned into Fang’s ear.
“Mmm,” hummed Vanille. “Oerba Yun Fang,” her breath tickled Fang, as she murmured in a voice that made Fang tingle in all the right places. “Did you know” - a tongue flicked her earlobe - “You’re amazingly” - a hand grasped her ass - “Sexy with wet hair?” A knee parted her legs and Fang gave a sharp gasp.
Vanille had been shy when they first started their relationship, but had since taken to it with an enthusiasm that more often than not left Fang as the one breathless and dizzy. As she found herself now, with Vanille’s mouth nipping down her neck, sucking at the base of her collarbone. She moaned and fumbled clumsily at Vanille’s breast while trying to keep her balance. She thumbed a stiff peak and was rewarded by a purr of encouragement.
The tiny bathroom was thick with the smell of soap and shampoo. Fang tangled a hand in Vanille’s hair as warm lips closed on a breast, lavishing loving attention. Then she felt sharp teeth, and cried out in both pain and arousal. A hand replaced her mouth, a slow massage to soothe the bruised nub of flesh, and Vanille’s voice once again whispered in her ear, “You’ve been very bad Fang. Running off, getting hurt. Again.”
“Vanille,” Fang groaned, as a fingernail scraped over her nipple in emphasis. Then Vanille was kissing her, slowly, languidly, open-mouthed. Her body pressed into Fang’s, and Fang felt the hard twin points of Vanille’s breasts, a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of her lips and tongue, and gave in to a growl of desire as her hands clutched at Vanille. She felt rather than heard an answering giggle. Before she could react, a hand had taken the one wandering over a hipbone, and guided it between Vanille’s legs instead.
Vanille finally broke the kiss, throwing her head back and giving a gasp of pleasure as Fang entered her. She was incredibly wet, and a small part of Fang’s mind was smugly satisfied that this had made Vanille just as, if not more, turned on.
Fang brushed little kisses along her jaw as she moved her hand with a steady rhythm, and when she returned to Vanille’s lips, this time it was sloppy and urgent. Vanille’s hips began to move more insistently, fingers tangled in Fang’s hair and pushed her head down. Knowing what Vanille needed, but not quite willing to give it just yet, Fang stopped to nibble at her neck and breasts, and swirl her tongue at her belly button.
On her knees, she scraped her teeth on the inside of Vanille’s thigh, teasing. “Fang,” whined Vanille, then she flicked her with her tongue and Vanille cried out. Back against the wall for support, she draped a knee over Fang’s shoulder as Fang got to work in earnest. Each stroke of Fang’s tongue earned her a loud whimper or gasp, and Fang could tell she was close when Vanille got even more vocal and gripped Fang’s scalp and began moving desperately.
She felt Vanille tense, then give a strangled scream as her entire body seized. Fang tried to drag it out as long as she could, working her fingers deep and pushing hard with her tongue. Eventually, Vanille gave a moan and flopped over, spent. She would have fallen, if Fang hadn’t caught her in time and held her tight.
Fang watched her face as she slowly recovered; first, eyes closed as the aftershocks wore off, to a dazed look as she gradually became cognizant, and then a spreading grin that told Fang exactly how much Vanille had enjoyed that.
“Hey,” Fang whispered. “Can you stand?”
“Mmm,” replied Vanille, but she made no effort to do so. Instead, she tilted her head and caught Fang’s lips in a gentle kiss. When she pulled back, she smiled lazily at Fang. “Actually, maybe not. I think you might have to carry me.”
Fang raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” she countered with a smirk of her own. “What makes you think I would do that?”
A sharp pain in her arm told her Vanille had dug her fingernails in. “Fang, have you forgotten that I’m still mad at you?” Vanille’s voice was quiet and smooth like honey, and Fang jumped and made a little ‘eep’.
“Uh, I was hoping you might have…” she said sheepishly.
Vanille shook her head. “Nuh uh. So carry me. Back to bed.” Then she grinned wickedly. “I’m not quite done with you.”
That did it. Fang was still terribly aroused and the smell of sex and the feel of Vanille’s bare skin did nothing to relieve the ache between her legs. “Is that so?” she taunted, and swept Vanille up in a bridal carry. Vanille laughed and showered kisses on her face as Fang made her way out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom, where she set Vanille down carefully on the soft sheets.
Lowering herself above, she kissed Vanille thoroughly. She felt Vanille’s hands running up and down her back, and moaned into the crook of her neck. Everywhere Vanille touched seemed to spark her nerves on fire. Their legs tangled and they rolled around for a bit, fighting playfully for dominance.
Vanille wound up on top, and after another long kiss, she sat back up with a thoughtful look. Trapped between her thighs, Fang gazed up curiously.
“Rope. I need rope.” Vanille’s eyes lighted up.
Fang resisted the urge to go, “What?” Partly because she had a feeling it would have sounded rather stupid, and also because it probably wouldn’t have earned her a reply anyway, judging from the way Vanille’s attention was now focused on glancing around the room. She fell back on wriggling her hips to remind Vanille that she had been in the middle of something quite important.
Unfortunately, it seemed the point failed to get across. “Wait right here,” was the only answer from Vanille, who jumped off and darted out.
She was back in less than a minute later, holding a small bundle of thick rope usually used to bind calves for ceremonies.
“Hands up!” Vanille ordered cheerfully.
Fang eyed the bundle suspiciously. “Uh, don’t I have a say in this?”
Vanille shook her head. “Nope! You’re being punished!”
Fang, caught between protesting this affront to her dignity and simply letting Vanille have her way because usually it paid off very well to indulge her, didn’t notice until too late that Vanille had grabbed an arm and lassoed her wrist to a bed post. Then in a flash, Vanille had hopped over to repeat it with her other arm.
Fang blinked in confusion, and tugged experimentally at her bindings. The knots were firm, but not painful, and the rope soft enough not to leave marks. She lifted her head to look at Vanille, maybe crack a joke, but then she saw Vanille staring back, hungry and mischievous, and suddenly her mouth was dry.
“Vanille,” she croaked, feeling all the blood rush to a single point between her legs.
Vanille’s tongue darted out, licked her lips. She crawled on top, looked straight down and said very clearly, “I think I’m going to enjoy this.” She lifted a finger to her mouth, wet it slowly. “And,” she continued, eyes still locked on Fang’s, as she traced her damp finger across her breast, drawing a hiss from Fang, “I think you will too.”
***
An hour and a half later, Fang decided that Vanille’s idea of punishment was death by sexual frustration. She’d been brought to the edge, then pulled back, over and over. Her arms ached from struggling, and her legs burned from the strain of trying to get more friction against Vanille’s teasing hands and lips. Her whole body was a raw nerve.
Shit, any longer and I’m gonna die, Fang thought. I’m gonna die before I experience the most amazing orgasm of my life. The realization was incredibly depressing. Another groan, suspiciously like a sob, ripped from her throat as Vanille lapped leisurely at a bite on the inside of her thigh.
Perhaps it was Fang’s gasp of despair that caught her attention, but it seemed her prayers were finally answered. Vanille glanced up, a gleam of understanding in her eye, and smiled apologetically. Then Fang felt her mouth on her, fingers inside, twirling heat combined with relentless pressure. Her hips jerked faster, the sensation building and building until her senses overloaded and right then Vanille clamped down and sucked hard and the world exploded in white.
When Fang could finally move again, Vanille had already cuddled herself around her. Fang tried to wrap her arms around her, frowned when she realized she couldn’t.
Fang cleared her throat. “Um, Vanille?”
“Mmm?” Vanille raised her head, her expression a picture of utter love and devotion. Fang sighed.
“Do you think you could, y’know, untie me?”
“Oh!” Vanille’s eyes went wide and she scrambled up. Fang waited patiently for the knots to come loose, but nothing happened. Instead, a loud and panicked, “Ahhh!” came.
“What, what?” Fang’s head swung back and forth, searching for the cause of Vanille’s outcry.
“Fang, there’s blood everywhere!”
“WHAT?!”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”
“What, wait, Vanille, look, just calm down okay.” Fang’s mind raced to make sense of what was happening. “Untie me first.”
“Your shoulder! Your shoulder!”
“Vanille!” Fang yelled, and she froze. Then, in a softer voice, “It’s okay. Just get these ropes off and we can look at my shoulder.”
Sniffling slightly from shock, but more or less rational again, Vanille hastily undid the knots. In the meantime, Fang became aware of a dull pain that wasn’t her aching muscles, and in fact felt somewhat like…
“Shit,” sighed Fang, after getting her hands free and checking out her right arm. “The bandages came off. And I think I tore the stitches out.”
Vanilled looked worried. “Fang, uh, that’s not really good.”
Fang touched her gashes gingerly. “It’s okay,” she pronounced a moment later. “It’s stopped bleeding already. I’ll just see Doc again tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? What if it doesn’t heal? It could get infected and spread and you’ll lose your arm and-”
“Vanille!”
Vanille jumped, remembered to breathe. “Sorry, I guess I got carried away.”
Fang ruffled her hair with her good arm and pulled her in. “I won’t lose my arm. The worse thing is that it’ll scar a little, maybe.”
Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, thought Fang, as she felt Vanille, who had been starting to relax, tensed up again.
“Fang,” she whined. “Don’t you think you should have Doc look at it, just in case?”
Fang draped an arm over her face and pretended to ignore Vanille.
“Faaaaang!” Vanille tugged Fang’s arm away.
Fang stared back at Vanille with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, you want me to go out now to see Doc.”
Vanille nodded.
“In the middle of a cold night.”
Vanille nodded again.
“After you just screwed my brains out.”
Vanille smiled sheepishly. “Uh, yes?”
“To tell him that his stitches came out while you were ‘helping me clean up’.”
“Uhh…”
Fang looked at Vanille, her shoulder, and back at Vanille. “Vanille,” she mumbled. “Fuck the stitches.” Ignoring Vanille’s little yelp of protest, she wrapped her arms and legs around her, and let her eyelids droop. “Go to sleep,” she said, with a finality that brooked no protest.
The last thing Fang heard before she drifted off was Vanille’s voice, muttering, “Well, I guess scars could be sexy too.”