FFXII - Vayne/Larsa - in prog
Title: n/a (unfinished)
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: Vayne/Larsa
Rating: R for implied incest
Word Count: n/a (unfinished)
DISCLAIMER: Larsa belongs to Vayne, not me. FFXII belongs to Squenix.
It was later than usual when Vayne heard the knock come on his door. He was awake, of course, though he'd managed to get as far as changing out of his clothes. He'd settled for only a dressing gown; if he needed to get dressed quickly, he was more than capable. And if he did decide to sleep, he wouldn't be needing it. It would suffice.
"Larsa," he called, knowing without needing to get up who was standing on the other side of the door. He'd forbidden anyone else from disturbing him; they'd be very loathe to disobey. Unless the Empire itself was falling around them, they would stay away from him out of either fear or respect. Larsa, however, was always a special case. Even though he knew the boy wasn't exactly pleased with him, he was welcome in this room, as ever.
The boy opened the door and stepped into the room, tentatively. He hadn't spoken to Vayne overmuch for the better part of the day. Things between them were tenser than they'd ever been, previously, and he wasn't sure where he stood now that their father was dead, and Vayne had more or less declared himself Emperor. But he wanted to be here, anyway, because he belonged here. And Vayne was the only thing he had.
Vayne raised an eyebrow at him and held out a hand. He kept his face as passive as possible, but he had to inwardly admit to curiosity; Larsa had been so incensed at him earlier that day, and hadn't come to his room at all in nearly a week.
"You should be in bed," he said, but his hand closed around Larsa's smaller one and he pulled the boy closer to him, to stand just at his knee.
"It seems that I can't get to sleep," Larsa said, softly. There was more to just the words; Vayne could hear it in his voice.
He considered this, for a minute, and just stood there looking at his little brother. For his part, Larsa wasn't actually looking up at him, as if he was afraid to let their eyes meet. A small frown passed over Vayne's features; that wouldn't do at all. He reached out and gently and tilted his brother's face up so they were looking at each other.
"You won't even look at me now? Have I done you so wrong?" he asked, but there was no pain in his tone. It was almost scolding, more than anything else.
Larsa's eyebrows knitted together. "You haven't done me any wrong," he replied, evenly.
"Hm." Vayne didn't really answer, but he let the boy's face go. After considering for another minute, he let go of his hand as well, and stood. He motioned to the bed, letting Larsa make of that what he would. He had never demanded anything of his brother, and would not do so now. There were things he had come to expect, perhaps, but if they had different ideas, it would be acceptable.
Larsa moved away from him. Vayne didn't watch to see what he did. Instead, he crossed the room and snuffed out the two torches still shining on the wall. There was still the candle on the desk, but that was just as easily snuffed out, and they were left in darkness. Vayne did not like light in his room once he'd gone to bed, so the windows were well covered, and they were left in darkness. He did not have any trouble, however, finding his own way back to the bed; he knew the layout of his room well enough to navigate it in total darkness for more reasons than one.
Larsa was waiting for him there, sitting on the side of the bed, legs hanging off the edge. Vayne had noticed earlier that they were bare, though of course he would say nothing of it. They had long since dropped pretenses; the time they had together was scarce enough that they had no need for them. It was late, and anyone who saw would assume what they always did. Children often had nightmares, and who else would Larsa possibly turn to? There was no one left, after all.
Vayne pulled off his dressing gown, deeming it unnecessary, and moved around Larsa, sitting against the cushions. He reached out and drew his brother closer to him, moving the boy to sit straddling his legs. It was dark, but there were no real issues; Larsa knew by now what Vayne expected of him, and Vayne knew Larsa's reactions enough to tell if there was something he was objecting to silently.
He let his hands rest on the boy's waist, gently, not holding him there.
"Are you still angry with me?" Larsa asked.
Vayne almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. "Angry with you? As I recall, it was you who was so incensed earlier, not I."
Larsa's hands came up to rest on Vayne's shoulders, but Vayne could feel his apprehension. It mystified him, a little. Was Larsa really so sure he was angry? Perhaps he should prove that he was not. Although, he was a little annoyed by the defiance he'd been shown these past few days. He supposed it was natural; the boy was almost old enough that it could become routine. It was, of course, a routine he had no intention of allowing, but it was not entirely unexpected.
"I..." Larsa's words faltered and fell short. He couldn't deny that he was angry. Even now, he was angry. But that didn't lessen his love for Vayne, or the fact that he couldn't imagine what would ever happen if he lost him. They had radically different views on how the Empire should proceed, and what would best fit, but they were brothers.
Vayne's hands moved down, sliding under the boy's nightshirt and back up to rest on his bare hips. He'd have to remove it entirely, and preferably sooner rather than later, but for now he'd just do this. He could feel his brother tense slightly under him, but it was not out of fear. As far as he knew, Larsa was one of the only people living who did not fear him. As it should be; he had no intention of ever changing that.
"Are you sorry, then, for earlier?"
Larsa's hands tightened on his brother's shoulders without meaning to.
"I see. Then, do you think I ought to punish you for insubordination?"
He heard the small noise of surprise that the boy made, at that, and smiled. Of course, Larsa wouldn't see that smile, but that was much the point.
"Brother..." Larsa said, but his words still faltered.
Vayne let one hand move, sliding across and down to rest just on the curve of the boy's ass. "Hm? What do you think, Larsa?"
"You wouldn't," the boy said, shocked. His words came as barely more than a whisper. He still was not afraid, but he was startled by what Vayne was even implying. He knew better than to guess his brother's thoughts, but this...
"Wouldn't I? Or rather, shouldn't ?" Vayne continued, not moving his hand a bit. His other hand stayed where it was, as well; a reminder that he didn't expect Larsa to move or to pull away. He hadn't caught any of the signs that the boy even intended to do so, but it never hurt to have one small, subtle reminder.
Larsa moved as if he might squirm away, or protest, but he did neither. Vayne heard the way his breath caught in his throat and wondered idly if he might push this a bit farther. It was a shame that the boy was actually still angry with him; if he pushed, it could have untoward results, and that would just not do. But for another moment, it could do no harm. Not really.
"Don't you have anything to say in your defense?" Vayne asked, his tone just slightly patronizing.
"Don't do this," Larsa said, but there was heat in his words. Vayne wondered at it; even he wasn't entirely certain what it meant. Although, chances were that Larsa himself wouldn't have even noticed. It meant something, hidden from both of them. Perhaps another night...
"And however will you learn your place if I do not?" Vayne asked, his tone unchanged.
Larsa was very still for a moment, before he finally risked moving, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders. "Didn't I come here to prove that I know it well enough?" he whispered, speaking into Vayne's ear without meaning to.
Vayne's smile changed, and his own hands moved, as well, sliding further up the boy's shirt and around his body as if there were no cloth between them at all. He forgot, for now, the talk of punishment and insubordination. There was truth to Larsa's words, after all, and he'd never really been angry. Though, whether Larsa knew that, he wasn't sure. It didn't really matter.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Pairing: Vayne/Larsa
Rating: R for implied incest
Word Count: n/a (unfinished)
DISCLAIMER: Larsa belongs to Vayne, not me. FFXII belongs to Squenix.
It was later than usual when Vayne heard the knock come on his door. He was awake, of course, though he'd managed to get as far as changing out of his clothes. He'd settled for only a dressing gown; if he needed to get dressed quickly, he was more than capable. And if he did decide to sleep, he wouldn't be needing it. It would suffice.
"Larsa," he called, knowing without needing to get up who was standing on the other side of the door. He'd forbidden anyone else from disturbing him; they'd be very loathe to disobey. Unless the Empire itself was falling around them, they would stay away from him out of either fear or respect. Larsa, however, was always a special case. Even though he knew the boy wasn't exactly pleased with him, he was welcome in this room, as ever.
The boy opened the door and stepped into the room, tentatively. He hadn't spoken to Vayne overmuch for the better part of the day. Things between them were tenser than they'd ever been, previously, and he wasn't sure where he stood now that their father was dead, and Vayne had more or less declared himself Emperor. But he wanted to be here, anyway, because he belonged here. And Vayne was the only thing he had.
Vayne raised an eyebrow at him and held out a hand. He kept his face as passive as possible, but he had to inwardly admit to curiosity; Larsa had been so incensed at him earlier that day, and hadn't come to his room at all in nearly a week.
"You should be in bed," he said, but his hand closed around Larsa's smaller one and he pulled the boy closer to him, to stand just at his knee.
"It seems that I can't get to sleep," Larsa said, softly. There was more to just the words; Vayne could hear it in his voice.
He considered this, for a minute, and just stood there looking at his little brother. For his part, Larsa wasn't actually looking up at him, as if he was afraid to let their eyes meet. A small frown passed over Vayne's features; that wouldn't do at all. He reached out and gently and tilted his brother's face up so they were looking at each other.
"You won't even look at me now? Have I done you so wrong?" he asked, but there was no pain in his tone. It was almost scolding, more than anything else.
Larsa's eyebrows knitted together. "You haven't done me any wrong," he replied, evenly.
"Hm." Vayne didn't really answer, but he let the boy's face go. After considering for another minute, he let go of his hand as well, and stood. He motioned to the bed, letting Larsa make of that what he would. He had never demanded anything of his brother, and would not do so now. There were things he had come to expect, perhaps, but if they had different ideas, it would be acceptable.
Larsa moved away from him. Vayne didn't watch to see what he did. Instead, he crossed the room and snuffed out the two torches still shining on the wall. There was still the candle on the desk, but that was just as easily snuffed out, and they were left in darkness. Vayne did not like light in his room once he'd gone to bed, so the windows were well covered, and they were left in darkness. He did not have any trouble, however, finding his own way back to the bed; he knew the layout of his room well enough to navigate it in total darkness for more reasons than one.
Larsa was waiting for him there, sitting on the side of the bed, legs hanging off the edge. Vayne had noticed earlier that they were bare, though of course he would say nothing of it. They had long since dropped pretenses; the time they had together was scarce enough that they had no need for them. It was late, and anyone who saw would assume what they always did. Children often had nightmares, and who else would Larsa possibly turn to? There was no one left, after all.
Vayne pulled off his dressing gown, deeming it unnecessary, and moved around Larsa, sitting against the cushions. He reached out and drew his brother closer to him, moving the boy to sit straddling his legs. It was dark, but there were no real issues; Larsa knew by now what Vayne expected of him, and Vayne knew Larsa's reactions enough to tell if there was something he was objecting to silently.
He let his hands rest on the boy's waist, gently, not holding him there.
"Are you still angry with me?" Larsa asked.
Vayne almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. "Angry with you? As I recall, it was you who was so incensed earlier, not I."
Larsa's hands came up to rest on Vayne's shoulders, but Vayne could feel his apprehension. It mystified him, a little. Was Larsa really so sure he was angry? Perhaps he should prove that he was not. Although, he was a little annoyed by the defiance he'd been shown these past few days. He supposed it was natural; the boy was almost old enough that it could become routine. It was, of course, a routine he had no intention of allowing, but it was not entirely unexpected.
"I..." Larsa's words faltered and fell short. He couldn't deny that he was angry. Even now, he was angry. But that didn't lessen his love for Vayne, or the fact that he couldn't imagine what would ever happen if he lost him. They had radically different views on how the Empire should proceed, and what would best fit, but they were brothers.
Vayne's hands moved down, sliding under the boy's nightshirt and back up to rest on his bare hips. He'd have to remove it entirely, and preferably sooner rather than later, but for now he'd just do this. He could feel his brother tense slightly under him, but it was not out of fear. As far as he knew, Larsa was one of the only people living who did not fear him. As it should be; he had no intention of ever changing that.
"Are you sorry, then, for earlier?"
Larsa's hands tightened on his brother's shoulders without meaning to.
"I see. Then, do you think I ought to punish you for insubordination?"
He heard the small noise of surprise that the boy made, at that, and smiled. Of course, Larsa wouldn't see that smile, but that was much the point.
"Brother..." Larsa said, but his words still faltered.
Vayne let one hand move, sliding across and down to rest just on the curve of the boy's ass. "Hm? What do you think, Larsa?"
"You wouldn't," the boy said, shocked. His words came as barely more than a whisper. He still was not afraid, but he was startled by what Vayne was even implying. He knew better than to guess his brother's thoughts, but this...
"Wouldn't I? Or rather, shouldn't ?" Vayne continued, not moving his hand a bit. His other hand stayed where it was, as well; a reminder that he didn't expect Larsa to move or to pull away. He hadn't caught any of the signs that the boy even intended to do so, but it never hurt to have one small, subtle reminder.
Larsa moved as if he might squirm away, or protest, but he did neither. Vayne heard the way his breath caught in his throat and wondered idly if he might push this a bit farther. It was a shame that the boy was actually still angry with him; if he pushed, it could have untoward results, and that would just not do. But for another moment, it could do no harm. Not really.
"Don't you have anything to say in your defense?" Vayne asked, his tone just slightly patronizing.
"Don't do this," Larsa said, but there was heat in his words. Vayne wondered at it; even he wasn't entirely certain what it meant. Although, chances were that Larsa himself wouldn't have even noticed. It meant something, hidden from both of them. Perhaps another night...
"And however will you learn your place if I do not?" Vayne asked, his tone unchanged.
Larsa was very still for a moment, before he finally risked moving, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his brother's shoulders. "Didn't I come here to prove that I know it well enough?" he whispered, speaking into Vayne's ear without meaning to.
Vayne's smile changed, and his own hands moved, as well, sliding further up the boy's shirt and around his body as if there were no cloth between them at all. He forgot, for now, the talk of punishment and insubordination. There was truth to Larsa's words, after all, and he'd never really been angry. Though, whether Larsa knew that, he wasn't sure. It didn't really matter.