FFX/X-2: Rikku/Wakka, touch
Title: Closer
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Touch
Rating: R
She's soft and warm and precious under his hands. The others are only metres away -- only metres -- but she wouldn't let that stop her and he rises to her challenge, holding her down and feeling her squirm under him, warmth and tease and laughter.
Her breath tickles against his neck when she speaks, and he doesn't keep track of her words, just the warm breath blossoming against his neck, and closer, closer, he tugs her against him, and she wriggles her way out of those shorts and her hands are quick and nimble and she knows entirely too well by now how to get his clothes off.
He likes to feel her, just feel, to lay there and feel her warmth, her impatient wriggles. He likes to touch her smooth skin -- slip a hand up under her shirt, stroking softly, tickling a little and making her respond.
She has a shy little coy smile on her face when he looks up and then she moves, swiftly flipping them over, sliding on top of him and wrapping her hand around his cock, oh...
The touch of her hand is warm and practiced and familiar, and the slide of him into her when she shifts and pushes down is only a little less familiar, and he arches up to her and pulls her down, kissing her, feeling her lips slide against his.
He likes touching her, making her gasp and moan, and it's a rebellion from Yevon at the same time as it's a celebration of some kind of freedom he's never known before, and it's bringing her closer to Yevon, and it's touching something that goes beyond anything he knows words for.
He's not good with words, anyway -- he's good with touches, with smiles, but words always fail him, always come out wrong.
Author: twilightsrain/edenbound (ficjournal)
Theme: Touch
Rating: R
She's soft and warm and precious under his hands. The others are only metres away -- only metres -- but she wouldn't let that stop her and he rises to her challenge, holding her down and feeling her squirm under him, warmth and tease and laughter.
Her breath tickles against his neck when she speaks, and he doesn't keep track of her words, just the warm breath blossoming against his neck, and closer, closer, he tugs her against him, and she wriggles her way out of those shorts and her hands are quick and nimble and she knows entirely too well by now how to get his clothes off.
He likes to feel her, just feel, to lay there and feel her warmth, her impatient wriggles. He likes to touch her smooth skin -- slip a hand up under her shirt, stroking softly, tickling a little and making her respond.
She has a shy little coy smile on her face when he looks up and then she moves, swiftly flipping them over, sliding on top of him and wrapping her hand around his cock, oh...
The touch of her hand is warm and practiced and familiar, and the slide of him into her when she shifts and pushes down is only a little less familiar, and he arches up to her and pulls her down, kissing her, feeling her lips slide against his.
He likes touching her, making her gasp and moan, and it's a rebellion from Yevon at the same time as it's a celebration of some kind of freedom he's never known before, and it's bringing her closer to Yevon, and it's touching something that goes beyond anything he knows words for.
He's not good with words, anyway -- he's good with touches, with smiles, but words always fail him, always come out wrong.