Fic: Auron/Yuna
Title: Only, simply.
Pairing: Auron/Yuna
Rating: R for implied smuts.
A/N: None
Summary: Auron is a lot of things.
Auron has freckles. Far too many and far too faint to count. But they're there nonetheless, across his nose and dotting along beneath his eyes. Yuna would never have known they were there at all, had she not slipped beneath the blankets with him and curled up close to him, citing the storm and some unholy dream as a source of her sleeplessness.
It was quiet as they lay there, summoner and guardian, side by side. Strangers really. Auron was quiet, save for his shallow breathing and Yuna wondered if he needed to breathe at all. Did legends breathe? Did they eat? Did they sleep at all? She wanted to ask but felt silly for thinking to.
There are scars as well. She could count those. Fourteen. Some thick and twining and twisting in crisscross patterns across his shoulder blades and down his spine. Yuna pressed her palms to the flesh, numb from burden and loss. His skin is surprisingly cool to her touch and she feels some need to curl up closer to warm him up.
There is also a dimple in his hip, a dip in the skin where the bone had chipped away, lost in a battle with a fierce fiend. He shrugged and told it mattered not. Braska had been saved and to Auron, his duty was far more important than some inconsequential part of himself.
Yuna wanted to remember. She wanted to remember every nick and every dimple and every imperfection that had made Auron a legend. Her fingers moved, featherlight and soft and finally Auron stirred. He rolled over to face her.
The cowl was gone, as were his glasses and Yuna couldn't help but think how exposed he looked without them.
The scar along his eye was not as thick as she imagined it to be. It was jagged along the edges and it dug deep were it sealed his eye from the rest of the world. Her fingertip traced it's length and stopped just where the uneven fleshed ended.
His stubble tickled. Yuna knew because she had leaned up to kiss his cheek, chaste and warm against his flesh and his seeing eye closed. She pulled back to study him and for once, Auron looked human, instead of so far off and so unreachable.
For once, he was only simply Auron and Yuna learned she never wanted him to be anything else.
Perhaps it is instinct that drove him, Yuna is not sure, as his hand follows the curve of her shoulder and his palm isn't as calloused as she thought it would be (her gratitude paid to leather gloves). “Yuna,” he whispered, not as the legend but only, simply Auron and the summoner finds herself responding to the call.
Sheets rustle beneath her, beneath him too (at least Yuna thought so, because somehow the gap between them has closed), and for a moment she had forgotten how to breathe. Because that same moment Auron claimed her lips with his.
Auron was needy. He was desperate too, mouth pressed hard to hers. Her hands settle on his shoulders and there are scars there too (fifteen. Or was it sixteen?). And just as soon as it begun, it had ended, teeth dragging across her bottom lip and Yuna whimpered softly. “Yuna...” There was something else there, just at the tip of his tongue. She moved his hands to cup his cheeks and mix matched eyes fixed on auburn.
“Auron.” That voice she used was not her own. It was low and throaty and filled her with something she had never felt before, something she could not quite place. It made her worry. Was it wrong to feel this way? Perhaps. But they were from Spira, where history repeated and people lived and died by Sin. Happiness had to be taken, pinned down, and secured.
The Legend shifted again, propping up on an arm and lifting himself over her. Her arms follow, clasping about his neck.
Auron was experienced and knew where to touch to send shivers down her spine and earn soft moans from her throat. His hands curve over her hips and Yuna wanted more.
Her hands are tentative, inexperienced, but eager to please nonetheless. They find the waistband of his breeches, tugging experimentally. She could hear him hiss quietly at the air touching his covered skin and she hesitated to continue. His mouth was at her throat, kissing and biting gently and he whispered something incomprehensible. Yuna wanted to think it was “please” and how she wanted to please him.
With renewed courage, she pressed forward and the breeches dipped past his waist. The knots that held her skirt secure were slowly coming undone, the fabric brushing against her skin. She gasped quietly, her head tilting back and heat pooling in her stomach.
His body is slow and steady and feels so solid as he braced himself over her. He watched, waiting and it looked like he had stopped breathing. “Don't forget to breathe,” Yuna whispered, parting her knees and she smiled at him.
Auron was gentle, surprisingly so, as he eased himself into her. At first there was pain, and Yuna wanted to twist away. But her hands remained firm on his shoulders, heels digging into the mattress. He waited for her to signal him before he began to move. Her body tensed and relaxed and her back arched. The pain was fading and all that was left was Yuna and Auron. Only simply Auron.
Breathing became difficult, fingers curling and uncurling against unfeeling flesh. Her name was on his lips and a flush colored her cheeks. “Auron,” she whispered in reply, voice a gentle purr.
He jerks finally, hands tightly twisted in the sheets beneath her, air caught in his throat and there's a cry from his lips. He fell away from her, chest heaving and sweat thin on his brow. She curled up close, resting her cheek against his arm and sighed.
She was content. Truly content. Because here in this moment, she was only Yuna and him? He was only simply Auron.
And Yuna wanted to remember.
Pairing: Auron/Yuna
Rating: R for implied smuts.
A/N: None
Summary: Auron is a lot of things.
Auron has freckles. Far too many and far too faint to count. But they're there nonetheless, across his nose and dotting along beneath his eyes. Yuna would never have known they were there at all, had she not slipped beneath the blankets with him and curled up close to him, citing the storm and some unholy dream as a source of her sleeplessness.
It was quiet as they lay there, summoner and guardian, side by side. Strangers really. Auron was quiet, save for his shallow breathing and Yuna wondered if he needed to breathe at all. Did legends breathe? Did they eat? Did they sleep at all? She wanted to ask but felt silly for thinking to.
There are scars as well. She could count those. Fourteen. Some thick and twining and twisting in crisscross patterns across his shoulder blades and down his spine. Yuna pressed her palms to the flesh, numb from burden and loss. His skin is surprisingly cool to her touch and she feels some need to curl up closer to warm him up.
There is also a dimple in his hip, a dip in the skin where the bone had chipped away, lost in a battle with a fierce fiend. He shrugged and told it mattered not. Braska had been saved and to Auron, his duty was far more important than some inconsequential part of himself.
Yuna wanted to remember. She wanted to remember every nick and every dimple and every imperfection that had made Auron a legend. Her fingers moved, featherlight and soft and finally Auron stirred. He rolled over to face her.
The cowl was gone, as were his glasses and Yuna couldn't help but think how exposed he looked without them.
The scar along his eye was not as thick as she imagined it to be. It was jagged along the edges and it dug deep were it sealed his eye from the rest of the world. Her fingertip traced it's length and stopped just where the uneven fleshed ended.
His stubble tickled. Yuna knew because she had leaned up to kiss his cheek, chaste and warm against his flesh and his seeing eye closed. She pulled back to study him and for once, Auron looked human, instead of so far off and so unreachable.
For once, he was only simply Auron and Yuna learned she never wanted him to be anything else.
Perhaps it is instinct that drove him, Yuna is not sure, as his hand follows the curve of her shoulder and his palm isn't as calloused as she thought it would be (her gratitude paid to leather gloves). “Yuna,” he whispered, not as the legend but only, simply Auron and the summoner finds herself responding to the call.
Sheets rustle beneath her, beneath him too (at least Yuna thought so, because somehow the gap between them has closed), and for a moment she had forgotten how to breathe. Because that same moment Auron claimed her lips with his.
Auron was needy. He was desperate too, mouth pressed hard to hers. Her hands settle on his shoulders and there are scars there too (fifteen. Or was it sixteen?). And just as soon as it begun, it had ended, teeth dragging across her bottom lip and Yuna whimpered softly. “Yuna...” There was something else there, just at the tip of his tongue. She moved his hands to cup his cheeks and mix matched eyes fixed on auburn.
“Auron.” That voice she used was not her own. It was low and throaty and filled her with something she had never felt before, something she could not quite place. It made her worry. Was it wrong to feel this way? Perhaps. But they were from Spira, where history repeated and people lived and died by Sin. Happiness had to be taken, pinned down, and secured.
The Legend shifted again, propping up on an arm and lifting himself over her. Her arms follow, clasping about his neck.
Auron was experienced and knew where to touch to send shivers down her spine and earn soft moans from her throat. His hands curve over her hips and Yuna wanted more.
Her hands are tentative, inexperienced, but eager to please nonetheless. They find the waistband of his breeches, tugging experimentally. She could hear him hiss quietly at the air touching his covered skin and she hesitated to continue. His mouth was at her throat, kissing and biting gently and he whispered something incomprehensible. Yuna wanted to think it was “please” and how she wanted to please him.
With renewed courage, she pressed forward and the breeches dipped past his waist. The knots that held her skirt secure were slowly coming undone, the fabric brushing against her skin. She gasped quietly, her head tilting back and heat pooling in her stomach.
His body is slow and steady and feels so solid as he braced himself over her. He watched, waiting and it looked like he had stopped breathing. “Don't forget to breathe,” Yuna whispered, parting her knees and she smiled at him.
Auron was gentle, surprisingly so, as he eased himself into her. At first there was pain, and Yuna wanted to twist away. But her hands remained firm on his shoulders, heels digging into the mattress. He waited for her to signal him before he began to move. Her body tensed and relaxed and her back arched. The pain was fading and all that was left was Yuna and Auron. Only simply Auron.
Breathing became difficult, fingers curling and uncurling against unfeeling flesh. Her name was on his lips and a flush colored her cheeks. “Auron,” she whispered in reply, voice a gentle purr.
He jerks finally, hands tightly twisted in the sheets beneath her, air caught in his throat and there's a cry from his lips. He fell away from her, chest heaving and sweat thin on his brow. She curled up close, resting her cheek against his arm and sighed.
She was content. Truly content. Because here in this moment, she was only Yuna and him? He was only simply Auron.
And Yuna wanted to remember.