FFXII Yuri, 2/10
Title: Adjustment
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Claim: General Series
Prompt: #7: Quiet
Characters/Pairings: Fran/Ashe
Rating: R
Summary: Ashe vocalizes a bit too much. Fran learns to enjoy it.
She doesn't know what to make of the Princess, even now. And though she wasn't unfamiliar with the habits of Hume women in the bedroom, Fran wonders if Ashe is the standard or the exception to a rule she's not familiar with.
A Viera coupling (at least among her tribe) was treated with the highest level of reverence, almost that which was shown when speaking the Green Word. It was Hume dance, in some ways-- each partner moving in perfect tandem with the other, hands and lips and bodies coiling and rippling with equal degrees of passion and control. And while each pair differed in execution, the only rule that had to be upheld with absolute certainty was that it must be silent. Not a single gasp, or sign of passion, or wanton sigh was allowed to escape either Veira's lips. It would be terribly rude, scandalous even, to be thought of as incapable of keeping oneself under control. That was how a Viera was meant to live-- everyone had to think clearly and selflessly or else they were no better than Humes.
That was what had drawn Fran to the Princess at first, she supposed. No concern for herself, only for her people; clearly intelligent; a bit strong-willed and... well, passionate... but the Viera decided she could overlook that. And the increasing amount of strangely furtive glances in her direction that Ashe had sent made it clear that the hazel-haired woman wasn't opposed to the possibility.
The first time had been a bit odd for Fran. She hadn't anticipated for the Princess to be so enthusiastic. So loud. Even when she'd sealed Ashe's soft ruby lips with her own to capture the scream of unbridled ecstacy resulting from the skilled touch the younger woman was eagerly thrusting herself into, she let a low and satisfied moan drift from her mouth down Fran's throat. It was almost as disconcerting as the fact that the next day, Ashe was staring at her oddly, and then calling Fran to join her in the search for treasure among the Ogir-Yensa only to pull her down and kiss her once they were out of sight of the others. She'd only seen the look in Ashe's brown eyes-- ravenous and desperate for more-- on the faces of the spectral jungle cats that roamed free in Golmore. She'd hesitated before agreeing; Fran supposed that she'd have to get used to Ashe's rather unceremonious demeanor between the covers, though she supposed that could just be a bit of life in Golmore that wouldn't leave her alone, unlike the Green Word. She wondered, briefly, if Ashe's behavior had anything to do with her dead husband, then brushed the thought away swiftly.
Ashe, for her part, never seemed to relent. Her arms never tired of wrapping around the Viera's strong, slender body (nor did her nails grow duller); her lips and tongue and teeth were always searching Fran's chocolate skin hungrily; and though her voice ranged from delirious moans and half-pants of shameless need to unrestricted howls of pleasure screamed at the heavens while she cursed harshly and whispered her lover's name in equal measure, Ashe's voice was still there, more than enough of an equal to Fran's stony and unbroken silence.
And yet Fran wondered, at some point as she continued to rendezvous with the Princess in a secluded spot in the desert or forest, or else a spare room that Ashe convinced Penelo to stay away from for a half-hour or so, when she had begun to delight in the Princess' clamorous lovemaking, when the nonsensical and harsh babble had suddenly sounded like singing, only sweeter and more rewarding. Ashe wasn't like a Viera at all, and yet it was that very thing which drew Fran back, and somehow seemed like it was synonymous with the decision she'd made-- long ago-- to leave the Wood behind.
All the same it was a long time before she felt reckless, as blind with passion as her lover to utter "Ashelia" in such a low tone it could easily have been mistaken for a breath, but Ashe gave her the benefit of the doubt and responded with a blissful sort of moan as she kissed Fran's dark mouth.
It took even longer before Fran dared to admit that she preferred Ashe's manner far more than her own.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Claim: General Series
Prompt: #7: Quiet
Characters/Pairings: Fran/Ashe
Rating: R
Summary: Ashe vocalizes a bit too much. Fran learns to enjoy it.
She doesn't know what to make of the Princess, even now. And though she wasn't unfamiliar with the habits of Hume women in the bedroom, Fran wonders if Ashe is the standard or the exception to a rule she's not familiar with.
A Viera coupling (at least among her tribe) was treated with the highest level of reverence, almost that which was shown when speaking the Green Word. It was Hume dance, in some ways-- each partner moving in perfect tandem with the other, hands and lips and bodies coiling and rippling with equal degrees of passion and control. And while each pair differed in execution, the only rule that had to be upheld with absolute certainty was that it must be silent. Not a single gasp, or sign of passion, or wanton sigh was allowed to escape either Veira's lips. It would be terribly rude, scandalous even, to be thought of as incapable of keeping oneself under control. That was how a Viera was meant to live-- everyone had to think clearly and selflessly or else they were no better than Humes.
That was what had drawn Fran to the Princess at first, she supposed. No concern for herself, only for her people; clearly intelligent; a bit strong-willed and... well, passionate... but the Viera decided she could overlook that. And the increasing amount of strangely furtive glances in her direction that Ashe had sent made it clear that the hazel-haired woman wasn't opposed to the possibility.
The first time had been a bit odd for Fran. She hadn't anticipated for the Princess to be so enthusiastic. So loud. Even when she'd sealed Ashe's soft ruby lips with her own to capture the scream of unbridled ecstacy resulting from the skilled touch the younger woman was eagerly thrusting herself into, she let a low and satisfied moan drift from her mouth down Fran's throat. It was almost as disconcerting as the fact that the next day, Ashe was staring at her oddly, and then calling Fran to join her in the search for treasure among the Ogir-Yensa only to pull her down and kiss her once they were out of sight of the others. She'd only seen the look in Ashe's brown eyes-- ravenous and desperate for more-- on the faces of the spectral jungle cats that roamed free in Golmore. She'd hesitated before agreeing; Fran supposed that she'd have to get used to Ashe's rather unceremonious demeanor between the covers, though she supposed that could just be a bit of life in Golmore that wouldn't leave her alone, unlike the Green Word. She wondered, briefly, if Ashe's behavior had anything to do with her dead husband, then brushed the thought away swiftly.
Ashe, for her part, never seemed to relent. Her arms never tired of wrapping around the Viera's strong, slender body (nor did her nails grow duller); her lips and tongue and teeth were always searching Fran's chocolate skin hungrily; and though her voice ranged from delirious moans and half-pants of shameless need to unrestricted howls of pleasure screamed at the heavens while she cursed harshly and whispered her lover's name in equal measure, Ashe's voice was still there, more than enough of an equal to Fran's stony and unbroken silence.
And yet Fran wondered, at some point as she continued to rendezvous with the Princess in a secluded spot in the desert or forest, or else a spare room that Ashe convinced Penelo to stay away from for a half-hour or so, when she had begun to delight in the Princess' clamorous lovemaking, when the nonsensical and harsh babble had suddenly sounded like singing, only sweeter and more rewarding. Ashe wasn't like a Viera at all, and yet it was that very thing which drew Fran back, and somehow seemed like it was synonymous with the decision she'd made-- long ago-- to leave the Wood behind.
All the same it was a long time before she felt reckless, as blind with passion as her lover to utter "Ashelia" in such a low tone it could easily have been mistaken for a breath, but Ashe gave her the benefit of the doubt and responded with a blissful sort of moan as she kissed Fran's dark mouth.
It took even longer before Fran dared to admit that she preferred Ashe's manner far more than her own.