As You Will (Balthier/Fran, worksafe)
...just one more week to go...!
As You Will
In the first few months that Balthier knew Fran, he made no passes at her, no intimations, not even much in the way of innuendo.
Final Fantasy XII, Balthier/Fran. 500 words.
Worksafe.
In the first few months that Balthier knew Fran, he made no passes at her, no intimations, not even much in the way of innuendo. He had seen the cold, blank stare she turned on those humes foolish enough to proposition her, so that they trailed off and twitched with embarrassment until, finally, she was merciful enough to turn her gaze away. Those few brave enough -- or stupid enough, or drunk enough -- to press their suits felt the edges of her claws or worse. He had a sense that, should he attempt an intimacy beyond that which she was willing to extend, their partnership might very well come to a swift and undignified end.
And the partnership was useful and pleasant to him in many ways, most of which had nothing to do with the smooth length of her leg or the supple curve of her hip, and he had no desire to ruin that. So he kept his peace and bided his time, and when he wanted bedding, well, he sweet-talked one of the hume men and women who flocked to the bars -- many of them seeking just that: an exciting night with a dashing sky-pirate.
He was glad to oblige them.
Still, he could not but admire Fran; she was lovely -- not just as all viera were lovely, but in her own way, with her cool silences and the color of her eyes, the way she moved, the sound of her voice. He was amused at his own adolescent crush, but still he harbored it, watching her with a secrecy that he knew full well did not conceal his interest from her, and yet that she seemed willing to permit.
Or perhaps -- more than simply permit.
He did not know what made that day different, only that it must be because it was the first day she chose to approach him. He knew there was something different in the way she entered the cockpit -- the cadence of her walk was too much the predator's prowl -- but he did not know quite what to expect until she put her hands on his shoulders and kept him from rising to meet her. She pressed him back into the pilot's seat and kissed him, kissed him hard, flattened his back against the seat's back and pinned his wrists. Her hip shifted against his, and then she settled astride his lap: not kittenish, as a tavern wench might when hoping for a tumble, but demanding, possessive. He could smell steel and oil in the long fall of her hair. Her claws made halfmoon crescents in the flesh of his wrists, and her mouth on his was full of hunger.
He tried to reach for her, but she pinned his hand hard against the armrest his chair and said, "No. I will do this."
Balthier's heart jumped. He leaned back, exposing his throat, and said, "As you will, then."
As You Will
In the first few months that Balthier knew Fran, he made no passes at her, no intimations, not even much in the way of innuendo.
Final Fantasy XII, Balthier/Fran. 500 words.
Worksafe.
In the first few months that Balthier knew Fran, he made no passes at her, no intimations, not even much in the way of innuendo. He had seen the cold, blank stare she turned on those humes foolish enough to proposition her, so that they trailed off and twitched with embarrassment until, finally, she was merciful enough to turn her gaze away. Those few brave enough -- or stupid enough, or drunk enough -- to press their suits felt the edges of her claws or worse. He had a sense that, should he attempt an intimacy beyond that which she was willing to extend, their partnership might very well come to a swift and undignified end.
And the partnership was useful and pleasant to him in many ways, most of which had nothing to do with the smooth length of her leg or the supple curve of her hip, and he had no desire to ruin that. So he kept his peace and bided his time, and when he wanted bedding, well, he sweet-talked one of the hume men and women who flocked to the bars -- many of them seeking just that: an exciting night with a dashing sky-pirate.
He was glad to oblige them.
Still, he could not but admire Fran; she was lovely -- not just as all viera were lovely, but in her own way, with her cool silences and the color of her eyes, the way she moved, the sound of her voice. He was amused at his own adolescent crush, but still he harbored it, watching her with a secrecy that he knew full well did not conceal his interest from her, and yet that she seemed willing to permit.
Or perhaps -- more than simply permit.
He did not know what made that day different, only that it must be because it was the first day she chose to approach him. He knew there was something different in the way she entered the cockpit -- the cadence of her walk was too much the predator's prowl -- but he did not know quite what to expect until she put her hands on his shoulders and kept him from rising to meet her. She pressed him back into the pilot's seat and kissed him, kissed him hard, flattened his back against the seat's back and pinned his wrists. Her hip shifted against his, and then she settled astride his lap: not kittenish, as a tavern wench might when hoping for a tumble, but demanding, possessive. He could smell steel and oil in the long fall of her hair. Her claws made halfmoon crescents in the flesh of his wrists, and her mouth on his was full of hunger.
He tried to reach for her, but she pinned his hand hard against the armrest his chair and said, "No. I will do this."
Balthier's heart jumped. He leaned back, exposing his throat, and said, "As you will, then."