FFXII Fic: Sexual Politics, Part 3/3 Larsa/Penelo
For my petite fluer-de-lis, serindrana, both because she deserves a (belated!) birthday present and because she wanted to see Larsa and Penelo engage in some role play/switching, which is an ambition I support fully. I do hope you enjoy this short and hopefully sexy ficlet, hon!
And comments, corrections and criticism are, as always, completely welcome and loved. After all, a little encouragement never fails to add a bit of inspiration...
Title: Sexual Politics, Part 3 of 3 [ Part 1, Part 2]
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Series: The Uses of Enchantment
Characters/Pairings: Larsa/Penelo
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, Explicit Sex, Light Bondage, Kink
Summary: Every emperor worth his weight in edicts knows enough to keep a few tricks up his sleeve...
Note: And yes, everyone's 18 and over in this one.
As long as Penelo had known Larsa, she had always marveled at the swiftness of his fingers.
Truth be told, there wasn’t much about Larsa didn‘t suggest speed. From the dark waves of his hair to the spring of his heels, everything about Larsa always seemed to be on the edge in motion, taut with a sort of barely controlled energy. Even at the age of 12, he had always had this air of energy, of vitality, of perpetual movement, that impressed her then and continued to fascinate her even more with the coming years. Dancer that she was and pirate that she had become, Penelo was used to being fleet of foot and never settling down in one place for long either. But nothing she had encountered before, not even the rhythm of Dalmascan drum-beats, seemed to quite rival the quicksilver flash of Larsa's fingers whenever he gestured towards a royal audience or drew his surplus of potions out within a battlefield or slowly and carefully drew a series of inescapable knots around her wrists as he proved that their third time in bed would prove most memorable indeed.
But then, Penelo had always suspected that Larsa would be clever enough to know how to marshall and direct that speed of his towards anything that struck his fancy. And right now, with those slender hands of his first binding her wrists together above her head and then settling to work between her thighs, he was more than showing her that her decision to take him to her bed was not as completely foolish as she had initially believed.
Because he was good at this, almost too damn good, and it was enough to make her head race when he didn’t send it twisting against his pillows. And for her own, barely coherent part, she couldn't understand just how he had even arrived at the idea of this, considering how little experience he had had before she had arrived and how they had done nothing like this previously and how quickly the instruction she had attempted to give him just a week ago had been interrupted by more interesting pleasures entirely.
But then… Larsa had promised her that he'd be a swift learner. And if nothing else, he’d taught her six years ago that to doubt the word of a man of his house was to doubt foolishly indeed.
Because he was good at this, god, yes he was-- because he was only eighteen and already smooth enough to convince her to do just as he wanted and already bright enough to grasp how to scissor two fingers inside her till she opened up for him like an especially promiscuous lily. He had only had her twice before but he had already figured out how to open up her desires, how to unravel her fantasies, how to push inside her with almost all his fingers while the heel of his hand ground against her clitoris until she saw stars on the inside of her eyelids every time she so much as breathed.
He was good at this, good and quick and cunning-- but then, disastrous first attempt at sex aside, Larsa had always known to be prepared ahead of time. And she in turn should have known that he'd be ready from the first moment he led her into his darkened bedroom, asked her if she would consent to trying something she had never had before with a beatific smile and told her that he'd been thinking of how to make her happy since their last… experiment presently.
But then, in his own way, he had been more than adequate since he first got her to undress in front of him, to first spread her legs for him, to first call his name in the dusk of the night with a sigh on the verge of dissolving. Hell, even before he had hit the age of majority, he had been stellar at making her all but maul her own conscience for having dirty thoughts about an innocent young man who must have no idea what he was doing to her with his boyish crush and affectionate touches and delicate innuedos that couldn't possibly mean anything.
Patented Solidor Misdirection, she thought-- right before a sudden surge of his shoulders finally made her break down completely.
He was so goddamn good at fucking her while she was bound with his just fingers that he could make her writhe against his bed sheets, throwing her head back and crying his name and wanting nobody and nothing else, not even in all the world that she had explored already. And it was only when she collapsed on the bed afterwards, panting and whimpering and pressing her thighs against each other for more relief, that she realized that he had kept his formerly pristine gloves on during the entire encounter.
And when he languidly peeled them off and began to unbuckle his belt with his bare hands, she knew that whatever liaison he had planned for her wasn’t going to be over anytime soon either.
"Do you understand now, Penelo?" he whispered, lowering himself so that his lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks even as his swiftly moving fingers spread her thighs over his hip-bones. "I really didn't exaggerate when I told you that I can be a quick study when I have sufficient motivation to succeed in an endeavor.”
His smile within the delicate circle of lights didn’t look quite so beatific anymore. And somehow, even as her bound hands banged against the bed's headboard at the first thrust he made inside her, Penelo found she much preferred it that way.
“And believe me when I say that you are more than motivation enough to excel at this-- or any other-- field."
And comments, corrections and criticism are, as always, completely welcome and loved. After all, a little encouragement never fails to add a bit of inspiration...
Title: Sexual Politics, Part 3 of 3 [ Part 1, Part 2]
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Series: The Uses of Enchantment
Characters/Pairings: Larsa/Penelo
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, Explicit Sex, Light Bondage, Kink
Summary: Every emperor worth his weight in edicts knows enough to keep a few tricks up his sleeve...
Note: And yes, everyone's 18 and over in this one.
As long as Penelo had known Larsa, she had always marveled at the swiftness of his fingers.
Truth be told, there wasn’t much about Larsa didn‘t suggest speed. From the dark waves of his hair to the spring of his heels, everything about Larsa always seemed to be on the edge in motion, taut with a sort of barely controlled energy. Even at the age of 12, he had always had this air of energy, of vitality, of perpetual movement, that impressed her then and continued to fascinate her even more with the coming years. Dancer that she was and pirate that she had become, Penelo was used to being fleet of foot and never settling down in one place for long either. But nothing she had encountered before, not even the rhythm of Dalmascan drum-beats, seemed to quite rival the quicksilver flash of Larsa's fingers whenever he gestured towards a royal audience or drew his surplus of potions out within a battlefield or slowly and carefully drew a series of inescapable knots around her wrists as he proved that their third time in bed would prove most memorable indeed.
But then, Penelo had always suspected that Larsa would be clever enough to know how to marshall and direct that speed of his towards anything that struck his fancy. And right now, with those slender hands of his first binding her wrists together above her head and then settling to work between her thighs, he was more than showing her that her decision to take him to her bed was not as completely foolish as she had initially believed.
Because he was good at this, almost too damn good, and it was enough to make her head race when he didn’t send it twisting against his pillows. And for her own, barely coherent part, she couldn't understand just how he had even arrived at the idea of this, considering how little experience he had had before she had arrived and how they had done nothing like this previously and how quickly the instruction she had attempted to give him just a week ago had been interrupted by more interesting pleasures entirely.
But then… Larsa had promised her that he'd be a swift learner. And if nothing else, he’d taught her six years ago that to doubt the word of a man of his house was to doubt foolishly indeed.
Because he was good at this, god, yes he was-- because he was only eighteen and already smooth enough to convince her to do just as he wanted and already bright enough to grasp how to scissor two fingers inside her till she opened up for him like an especially promiscuous lily. He had only had her twice before but he had already figured out how to open up her desires, how to unravel her fantasies, how to push inside her with almost all his fingers while the heel of his hand ground against her clitoris until she saw stars on the inside of her eyelids every time she so much as breathed.
He was good at this, good and quick and cunning-- but then, disastrous first attempt at sex aside, Larsa had always known to be prepared ahead of time. And she in turn should have known that he'd be ready from the first moment he led her into his darkened bedroom, asked her if she would consent to trying something she had never had before with a beatific smile and told her that he'd been thinking of how to make her happy since their last… experiment presently.
But then, in his own way, he had been more than adequate since he first got her to undress in front of him, to first spread her legs for him, to first call his name in the dusk of the night with a sigh on the verge of dissolving. Hell, even before he had hit the age of majority, he had been stellar at making her all but maul her own conscience for having dirty thoughts about an innocent young man who must have no idea what he was doing to her with his boyish crush and affectionate touches and delicate innuedos that couldn't possibly mean anything.
Patented Solidor Misdirection, she thought-- right before a sudden surge of his shoulders finally made her break down completely.
He was so goddamn good at fucking her while she was bound with his just fingers that he could make her writhe against his bed sheets, throwing her head back and crying his name and wanting nobody and nothing else, not even in all the world that she had explored already. And it was only when she collapsed on the bed afterwards, panting and whimpering and pressing her thighs against each other for more relief, that she realized that he had kept his formerly pristine gloves on during the entire encounter.
And when he languidly peeled them off and began to unbuckle his belt with his bare hands, she knew that whatever liaison he had planned for her wasn’t going to be over anytime soon either.
"Do you understand now, Penelo?" he whispered, lowering himself so that his lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks even as his swiftly moving fingers spread her thighs over his hip-bones. "I really didn't exaggerate when I told you that I can be a quick study when I have sufficient motivation to succeed in an endeavor.”
His smile within the delicate circle of lights didn’t look quite so beatific anymore. And somehow, even as her bound hands banged against the bed's headboard at the first thrust he made inside her, Penelo found she much preferred it that way.
“And believe me when I say that you are more than motivation enough to excel at this-- or any other-- field."