That Shirt-Grabbing Scene
That Shirt-Grabbing Scene
Fynaer scowled to himself. The visions he had been having lately were beginning to border on the ridiculous; not to mention the fact that he got caught in the throes of one nearly every night. It was starting to get troublesome, and even worse, Naer was beginning to worry. And the scarcity of Naer actually worrying was so great that Fynaer was feeling very troubled indeed.
It had all started in the Temple of Bahamut. Fynaer, being the only Summoner in the entire party, was obliged to acquire every single Aeon they encountered along the way, and he wasn’t best pleased about it. Seven new Aeons later and, although he was now the proud Summoner of the dragon king himself, Fynaer felt almost stretched with the effort of controlling them all; keeping them locked within. Even though his mind had been trained for this, the reality of the situation and mere training exercises were two very different things indeed.
He could feel his iron control begin to slip from his grasp, inch by slow inch as the languid routine of travelling, visiting temples and praying passed him by. His horror grew tenfold when he realised that, not only did he now feel like he was going insane, but he was also beginning to enjoy the company of Fjls. Fynaer, who had never really liked anyone, found it exceptionally disturbing to be suddenly in the possession of what could only be described as feelings. It especially shocked and appalled him that those feelings were directed at the male-Viera, who was not only unbelievably annoying, but also seemed to cart around a variety of hatreds and prejudices with him that made even Cuchulainn, the crazy and diseased Aeon, look pleasant in comparison. And then there was the fact that he insisted on going absolutely everywhere bare-chested, as if the cold were simply not there. It made Fynaer feel somewhat inadequate that a man with bunny ears had a manlier chest than himself.
One evening, when everyone else was asleep and Fynaer and Fjls had been taking second watch, Fy had been shocked to find himself staring at Fjls. Just… staring. As if he was captivated by Fjls’ smooth skin glimmering in the firelight. Drinking in the sight of him as if he was a damned woman, sitting there looking so attractive. It made him squirm.
Of course, as soon as Fynaer caught himself looking, he exerted some control over himself and looked away as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, these surreptitious moments were enough to catch Fjls eye, and so Fynaer often found himself under intense scrutiny as he tried desperately not to notice the Viera’s enraged glare.
But it was the flashes when their eyes met for a brief second that puzzled Fynaer the most. For the entirety of his life, he had always been in full control of his emotions, but now… now it was as if the Aeons themselves were forcing his feelings to surface and intensify, and he could not take it for much longer.
*
“Why are you staring at me, Guado? That’s the fifth time this evening, will you bloody give up!” Fjls narrowed his eyes at Fynaer against the flickering glow of the firelight. “I refuse to spend the whole of this watch with you sitting there staring at me!”
“I wasn’t staring at you, bunny-boy, so don’t go getting any ideas,” Fynaer turned from the fire, hoping desperately that the blush spreading across his cheeks wasn’t too visible. He shot a glance in Fjls’ direction only to catch his eye once more. The Viera glared back, his eyes narrowed almost to slits with anger and Fynaer shifted his gaze past him and onto a clump of trees that lay to the west of their camp.
He turned with a start as a hand came to rest heavily on his shoulder, and found himself staring straight into the concentrated anger of Fjls.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he ground out, as if the very effort of speaking instead of punching was too much to master. Fynaer held his gaze coolly, praying that his emotions wouldn’t choose this moment to surface as he delicately picked Fynaer’s hand off his shoulder with one of his best fastidious expressions.
He brushed at his shirt carefully and deliberately, all the while holding Fjls’ gaze. He could sense the rage pulsing off the Viera; it was almost palpable, in fact, but it seemed to be his sniff of disgust that finally ignited Fjls’ fury, and Fynaer found himself lifted almost bodily from his sitting position by his shirt, Fjls’ hands gripping the material tightly and bringing him up to eye level until their noses were almost touching.
Fynaer felt a pang of disbelief staring into Fjls’ eyes as they glinted with steely, barely contained rage.
“I. Do. Not. Like. Being stared at. You bastard! You will stop it now before I disembowel you with-mmpf!” his eyes widened as Fynaer silenced him with a kiss. Carried away in the moment, Fynaer felt the bump of chins and the roughness of Fjls’ lips and the barest flicker of his tongue before he pulled away with a horrified gasp.
Fjls simply gaped, his hands still tangled in the loose material of Fynaer’s shirt.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Fynaer willed it all to be a dream. Did he kiss him? Oh Yevon, he kissed the Viera. He opened one eye warily to Fjls’ astounded face, and saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it merely shock? Or was it something else?
Before he could even contemplate what it might mean, Fjls pulled him closer and kissed him, hesitantly at first, but then with an intensity that both frightened and elated Fynaer.
He became aware of his hand straying to the back of Fjls’ head, and he pulled him in closer for a moment before the Viera broke off with a gasp.
“Bastard!” he glared at Fynaer, raw and undisguised emotion blasting from his eyes.
“Why Fjls, is that a blush tingeing your cheeks, or do mine eyes deceive me?” Fynaer smirked, very slightly, but it was just enough to push Fjls over the edge. He didn’t give any warning, but just shoved forward violently with a growl, teeth set and eyes glaring daggers as they fell to the ground with a thump.
Fjls untangled one hand from Fy’s shirt, presumably with the intent of smacking him one in the face, but he obviously hadn’t figured into his punching equation that Fynaer had two hands free and rather quick reflexes for a non-combatant Summoner.
He grabbed hold of the still-tangled wrist and reached for the punching one, and in one swift and fluid motion the tables had turned and it was Fjls on the floor being straddled by Fynaer, who allowed himself a smug smile as he pinned the Viera to the ground.
“How about you listen to me, rather than punching me in the face, for once in your life Fjls!” Fynaer was as close to shouting as he had ever been, and he was surprised to find himself enjoying the feeling thoroughly. Provoking Fjls had always been satisfying, but now there was the added sexual tension thrumming between them and Fy found that straddling him on the floor was one of the most enjoyable experiences of his life to date.
“Do you think I relish these feelings? Hm? For the entirety of my life, I have kept as tight a hold on my emotions as it is possible to keep, and I believed myself to be happy. Until now. Now, there is you. You make these emotions flow from me like a tide and there is nothing I can do to stop them taking me over… I know it’s something to do with the Aeons. I’m almost certain that it is, for with each new one I acquire, I feel my old sense of self slip between my fingers, my iron-hard control, once more lost at a glance from you. Fjls… it frightens me. And that is the honest truth…” Fynaer gave a little laugh, tinged with bitterness. “I think that, at long last, I understand what my masters meant when they used the phrase ‘hope and despair, hand in hand, is the Summoners lot’. I’m not sure I have the power to hold them all…”
“You self-pitying idiot!” Fjls stared Fynaer straight in the eye and curled his lip in scorn. “Do you think I’m laying here for the good of my health? ‘Cos it’s certainly not to listen to you wax lyrical about your despair,” he said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “If I wanted to, I could just shove you off and leave. But I don’t. So get over yourself and kiss me you bloody over-dramatic bastard, before I lose whatever crazy notion is taking over my brain and decide this is a bad idea.”
“It is a bad idea…But I’m not sure that I care any more.” Fynaer leant down and kissed him full on the mouth, taking the time to savour the sensations that he had ignored in his previous urgency. The Viera didn’t kiss like a woman; he kissed violently, without a care for Fy’s comfort; almost as if he could change his mind at any point. Fynaer moaned with pleasure, and was gratified to hear Fjls soft moan in return, and to feel a stirring in his groin that showed the truth of the Viera’s feelings in a way that words never could.
Fynaer ran a hand down Fjls’ face and let it trail further down his lean body until it came to rest where that heat was. He shivered in anticipation as he felt Fjls react with a ragged groan.
“Hell…”
“Mm,” Fy agreed, “Want me to stop?”
“If you do, I personally will see to it that your life from now is a living hell, Guado. Do anything, just, ohshit,” he gasped, “Don’t stop…”
“Don’t stop what?” a voice piped from the darkness. “What exactly are you two doing there in the dark? Although to be honest, I’m not sure whether I want to know… in fact, yeah, don’t bother telling me, I definitely don’t want to know.”
Fynaer turned his head as if he’d been shot, his eyes narrowed against the much-dimmed firelight. Fjls sat upright and shoved him off hurriedly, wiping his mouth and glaring into the darkness.
“Kyun, whatever it is you think we were doing, you are sadly mistaken. As usual, Fjls here felt the need to punch something, and I happened to be the closest soft thing to punch.”
“Yeah, that’s what happened…” Fjls sounded so shifty and Fynaer signed inwardly. He supposed that there would be no way to quell the rumours now, unless Kyun was so disturbed that he never wanted to speak of what he heard again… Now that was a thought…
“Okay Kyun, I can’t lie about it any longer. Yes, what you heard was the sound of Fjls and myself, um, I’m not sure how to put it… copulating? Fornicating? Yes, I prefer fornicating, I think,” Fynaer heard a choked sound of mortification coming from Fjls direction, and a stony, worried silence coming from Kyun. He decided to make it worse. “Mm, in fact, had you not stopped us midway, we would probably be having filthy sex by now. Although I’d call it more of a definitely than a probably. And I’d call it more deep penetration than filthy sex…” he trailed off, allowing his words to fully sink in.
Silence. And he could feel Fjls glare of fury near burning the side of his face off. Fynaer grinned. He could wait. And besides, the anticipation would make things oh-so-much-more interesting when they were finally alone.