038 Touch
Title: Claws
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Characters: Yuna, Seymour
Prompt: 038 Touch
Word Count: 305
Rating: PG for a swear word
Summary: His hands on her shoulders make her skin crawl
Table link: http://airelement.livejournal.com/11132.html
His claws are digging into my shoulders, in a gesture that must look intimate to the observers, although it’s just an assertion of his power over me. He knows he has that power - after all, his servants have guns pointed in my friends’ faces and he is a lot stronger than me.
Seymour disgusts me. He’s a foul murderer and the feel of his fingers on my shoulders makes my skin crawl. His grip tightens and I look up defiantly, and have to stop myself from gulping nervously. He pulls me towards him, and looks into my eyes for the simple pleasure of drawing out my discomfort. I glare at him, refusing to let the power play get to me. After all, he’s just a slimy, loathsome, foul, disgusting bastard. And a dead one too.
He leans close to me and I can see affection in his eyes. Not real affection, the type that anyone normal would count as affection. But he does feel something towards me, a perverse kind of protectiveness and attraction at the same time. I suppose his way of showing it was to not kill me on the spot, although the fact that this evil man is attracted me makes me want to be sick.
Then the affection in his eyes flickers away and the hunger for power returns, just before he kisses me. He’s only doing it to anger my friends. It seems somehow wrong that his lips can be soft yet it’s an entirely unpleasant kiss, but then this is Seymour I’m talking about. His claws move to the edge of my shoulders, and he’s strong enough to stop me moving my arms to slap him. All I can do is clench my fists and imagine punching him, hard. That’s one physical interaction with him I’d love to have.
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Characters: Yuna, Seymour
Prompt: 038 Touch
Word Count: 305
Rating: PG for a swear word
Summary: His hands on her shoulders make her skin crawl
Table link: http://airelement.livejournal.com/11132.html
His claws are digging into my shoulders, in a gesture that must look intimate to the observers, although it’s just an assertion of his power over me. He knows he has that power - after all, his servants have guns pointed in my friends’ faces and he is a lot stronger than me.
Seymour disgusts me. He’s a foul murderer and the feel of his fingers on my shoulders makes my skin crawl. His grip tightens and I look up defiantly, and have to stop myself from gulping nervously. He pulls me towards him, and looks into my eyes for the simple pleasure of drawing out my discomfort. I glare at him, refusing to let the power play get to me. After all, he’s just a slimy, loathsome, foul, disgusting bastard. And a dead one too.
He leans close to me and I can see affection in his eyes. Not real affection, the type that anyone normal would count as affection. But he does feel something towards me, a perverse kind of protectiveness and attraction at the same time. I suppose his way of showing it was to not kill me on the spot, although the fact that this evil man is attracted me makes me want to be sick.
Then the affection in his eyes flickers away and the hunger for power returns, just before he kisses me. He’s only doing it to anger my friends. It seems somehow wrong that his lips can be soft yet it’s an entirely unpleasant kiss, but then this is Seymour I’m talking about. His claws move to the edge of my shoulders, and he’s strong enough to stop me moving my arms to slap him. All I can do is clench my fists and imagine punching him, hard. That’s one physical interaction with him I’d love to have.