fic: "Under There," (Organization XIII; Light; #6 - Mystery)
Title: Under There
Author: laylah
Claim: Organization XIII
Pairing: Marluxia/Larxene
Theme Set: Light
Theme: #6 - Mystery
Disclaimer: Squeenix owns me, not vice versa.
Summary: Players of CoM are not the only ones who occasionally get confused about Marluxia's gender. >->
Under There
"There's a betting pool in the basement, you know," Larxene says, looking up from her book. "About what you've got under your robe."
Marluxia doesn't turn from the window, but she can see the reflection of his mouth, the way it curves faintly upward. "Is that so." His voice is even, musical, pitched at that delicate point where it won't quite resolve in either direction.
"Mmm. Quite a heated argument. Lexaeus says you're too pretty to be a man, and Vexen says you're too powerful to -- something something." She waves her hand airily, like she's swatting at the butterflies that float in sometimes from his garden. "That was the point where I walked in, and he seemed to lose his train of thought all at once."
Marluxia's smile curves a little further, and Larxene gives herself a point in the imaginary tally she's keeping. "I don't know how Lexaeus can make an argument like that, working with Zexion the way he does."
"Zexion," Larxene says sweetly, "is a boy. It's a whole different thing."
"Of course," Marluxia says. "In the grand heroic tradition of pederasty." He turns away from the window and leans on the sill, watching her. "Did you place a bet?"
She smiles back, and winks at him. "If I placed a bet," she says, "they wouldn't trust me to research the answer, would they?"
"What makes you think that you could get the answer?" Marluxia asks lightly.
"We have time to kill, don't we?" Larxene says. "It'll be a while before the kid gets here." She flicks her wrist, drops knives into her hand, makes them vanish into her sleeve again. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Marluxia's posture changes; he leans a little closer like he's interested, probably to offset the fact that he says, "What makes you think I want to see that?"
"Mostly," Larxene tells him, "I think you don't want to insult me by turning me down."
"Ah." Marluxia shrugs. "One might suggest that you were squandering your position of favor. Though I suppose that would sound insulting."
"Terribly," Larxene agrees. She lets the silence hang for a moment, and eventually Marluxia rolls his eyes and reaches for the zipper of his coat.
Larxene sits up -- she'd really only half expected this to be anything more than a lark -- and watches as he tugs his zipper down. One elegant shrug, and his robe slips free, sliding down to pool on the floor. His shoulders are broad, well muscled from swinging his scythe, and his chest is wrapped in bandages. "Go ahead," he says. "Your turn."
"I don't have anything that creative on under mine," she warns him as she stands up. One quick tug and her coat's open, and then she's sliding out of it as Marluxia unwraps his bandages and -- well.
Marluxia's breasts are small and firm, a lot like her own, nipples peaked and hard from the faint chill of Oblivion's air. They look...incongruous, really, like an afterthought, like they don't belong there.
Larxene folds her arms under hers, looking Marluxia up and down. "You know, I have to say, that's not the answer I was expecting."
"It isn't the answer," Marluxia says smugly. "Or at least, not all of the answer. Should we keep going?"
"When you say things like that?" Larxene smiles. "Of course. I'm curious now." She'll have to take off her boots to be able to get her pants off, which is annoying, but Marluxia has her curious. So she kicks her way out of them and unbuttons her pants -- it'd be easier with her gloves off, but then she'd be really naked, and she's too stubborn to just volunteer that -- and looks up to find herself quite gratified after all that she's always assumed Marluxia was male.
"You see?" he says. "It's complicated." He's left his gloves on, too, and now he curls one hand around his cock, as if he needs to do anything at all to draw her attention to it. "It's either a medical condition, or else a sign of special favor -- or disfavor -- from the gods, depending on which world you're walking through at the time."
Larxene watches him stroke himself, watches his body start to respond. "Everything works, then, hmm?"
"All the parts that I still have," Marluxia says, his other hand coming to rest over the spot where his heart would be, "work just fine."
The floor is cool under her bare feet as she walks over to him. She doesn't ask permission before she reaches out to touch -- he'd stop her if he really minded. And he doesn't, just watches her hands as she cups his breasts carefully. She brushes his nipples with her thumbs, and he shivers, so she catches them between her fingers and twists.
Marluxia hisses, and his hands curl around her wrists. "Foreplay, darling?" he asks.
Larxene smiles. "Is it?"
"It will be some time before the keybearer arrives," he reminds her, and when she shrugs, he leans down to kiss her mouth.
She bites him, of course, but he just hums into her mouth like he was expecting that, so she decides she doesn't mind. Her book wasn't really holding her attention anyway.
They don't take enough time beforehand, or else her body would take more convincing to remember this instinct, and it hurts when she sinks down on him. But hurt is something to feel, someplace to start, and she rocks on top of him slowly, minimally, just enough to get the friction she's looking for while her gloved hand slides down between her legs. The pain fades in favor of tension, and she watches him watch her, the calculation in his expression -- he's choosing to let her use him, deciding that this is a trade he doesn't mind. She closes her eyes, gritting her teeth and trying to push that tension until it breaks -- that's what she does, push things until they break -- and when it happens at last she sags on top of him, gasping for breath, not trembling at all.
Marluxia wraps his hands around her hips. "My turn?" he says, which is a question with only one answer, so Larxene nods. She sits up as he starts to move, and reaches back behind herself until she finds a soft, slick spot between his legs, where she can press her fingers in and match his thrusts. He's languid and forceful by turns, and he lasts just long enough to make it clear that he's in control of his instincts, not the other way around, before -- she feels the deliberate decision in the way his grip eases -- he arches his back and shudders under her and goes still.
She climbs off him as soon as she's sure he's done; he sits up at one end of the couch, and she sits at the other, curling her legs under her and thinking about a nice hot shower. Marluxia wouldn't be able to really feel insulted if she got up to leave now, but he'd be happy for the chance to act as though he did, so she waits.
"Well?" he says, looking over at her. A breeze blows in from the window, ruffling his hair so artfully that she'd accuse him of doing it on purpose if he were any good with wind. "Who wins the bet?"
"Axel," she says. "Who else?"
Marluxia nods. "Of course. He was cheating."
"Mmm." Larxene pictures that for a minute. "We'll kill him last," she says brightly.
Author: laylah
Claim: Organization XIII
Pairing: Marluxia/Larxene
Theme Set: Light
Theme: #6 - Mystery
Disclaimer: Squeenix owns me, not vice versa.
Summary: Players of CoM are not the only ones who occasionally get confused about Marluxia's gender. >->
Under There
"There's a betting pool in the basement, you know," Larxene says, looking up from her book. "About what you've got under your robe."
Marluxia doesn't turn from the window, but she can see the reflection of his mouth, the way it curves faintly upward. "Is that so." His voice is even, musical, pitched at that delicate point where it won't quite resolve in either direction.
"Mmm. Quite a heated argument. Lexaeus says you're too pretty to be a man, and Vexen says you're too powerful to -- something something." She waves her hand airily, like she's swatting at the butterflies that float in sometimes from his garden. "That was the point where I walked in, and he seemed to lose his train of thought all at once."
Marluxia's smile curves a little further, and Larxene gives herself a point in the imaginary tally she's keeping. "I don't know how Lexaeus can make an argument like that, working with Zexion the way he does."
"Zexion," Larxene says sweetly, "is a boy. It's a whole different thing."
"Of course," Marluxia says. "In the grand heroic tradition of pederasty." He turns away from the window and leans on the sill, watching her. "Did you place a bet?"
She smiles back, and winks at him. "If I placed a bet," she says, "they wouldn't trust me to research the answer, would they?"
"What makes you think that you could get the answer?" Marluxia asks lightly.
"We have time to kill, don't we?" Larxene says. "It'll be a while before the kid gets here." She flicks her wrist, drops knives into her hand, makes them vanish into her sleeve again. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
Marluxia's posture changes; he leans a little closer like he's interested, probably to offset the fact that he says, "What makes you think I want to see that?"
"Mostly," Larxene tells him, "I think you don't want to insult me by turning me down."
"Ah." Marluxia shrugs. "One might suggest that you were squandering your position of favor. Though I suppose that would sound insulting."
"Terribly," Larxene agrees. She lets the silence hang for a moment, and eventually Marluxia rolls his eyes and reaches for the zipper of his coat.
Larxene sits up -- she'd really only half expected this to be anything more than a lark -- and watches as he tugs his zipper down. One elegant shrug, and his robe slips free, sliding down to pool on the floor. His shoulders are broad, well muscled from swinging his scythe, and his chest is wrapped in bandages. "Go ahead," he says. "Your turn."
"I don't have anything that creative on under mine," she warns him as she stands up. One quick tug and her coat's open, and then she's sliding out of it as Marluxia unwraps his bandages and -- well.
Marluxia's breasts are small and firm, a lot like her own, nipples peaked and hard from the faint chill of Oblivion's air. They look...incongruous, really, like an afterthought, like they don't belong there.
Larxene folds her arms under hers, looking Marluxia up and down. "You know, I have to say, that's not the answer I was expecting."
"It isn't the answer," Marluxia says smugly. "Or at least, not all of the answer. Should we keep going?"
"When you say things like that?" Larxene smiles. "Of course. I'm curious now." She'll have to take off her boots to be able to get her pants off, which is annoying, but Marluxia has her curious. So she kicks her way out of them and unbuttons her pants -- it'd be easier with her gloves off, but then she'd be really naked, and she's too stubborn to just volunteer that -- and looks up to find herself quite gratified after all that she's always assumed Marluxia was male.
"You see?" he says. "It's complicated." He's left his gloves on, too, and now he curls one hand around his cock, as if he needs to do anything at all to draw her attention to it. "It's either a medical condition, or else a sign of special favor -- or disfavor -- from the gods, depending on which world you're walking through at the time."
Larxene watches him stroke himself, watches his body start to respond. "Everything works, then, hmm?"
"All the parts that I still have," Marluxia says, his other hand coming to rest over the spot where his heart would be, "work just fine."
The floor is cool under her bare feet as she walks over to him. She doesn't ask permission before she reaches out to touch -- he'd stop her if he really minded. And he doesn't, just watches her hands as she cups his breasts carefully. She brushes his nipples with her thumbs, and he shivers, so she catches them between her fingers and twists.
Marluxia hisses, and his hands curl around her wrists. "Foreplay, darling?" he asks.
Larxene smiles. "Is it?"
"It will be some time before the keybearer arrives," he reminds her, and when she shrugs, he leans down to kiss her mouth.
She bites him, of course, but he just hums into her mouth like he was expecting that, so she decides she doesn't mind. Her book wasn't really holding her attention anyway.
They don't take enough time beforehand, or else her body would take more convincing to remember this instinct, and it hurts when she sinks down on him. But hurt is something to feel, someplace to start, and she rocks on top of him slowly, minimally, just enough to get the friction she's looking for while her gloved hand slides down between her legs. The pain fades in favor of tension, and she watches him watch her, the calculation in his expression -- he's choosing to let her use him, deciding that this is a trade he doesn't mind. She closes her eyes, gritting her teeth and trying to push that tension until it breaks -- that's what she does, push things until they break -- and when it happens at last she sags on top of him, gasping for breath, not trembling at all.
Marluxia wraps his hands around her hips. "My turn?" he says, which is a question with only one answer, so Larxene nods. She sits up as he starts to move, and reaches back behind herself until she finds a soft, slick spot between his legs, where she can press her fingers in and match his thrusts. He's languid and forceful by turns, and he lasts just long enough to make it clear that he's in control of his instincts, not the other way around, before -- she feels the deliberate decision in the way his grip eases -- he arches his back and shudders under her and goes still.
She climbs off him as soon as she's sure he's done; he sits up at one end of the couch, and she sits at the other, curling her legs under her and thinking about a nice hot shower. Marluxia wouldn't be able to really feel insulted if she got up to leave now, but he'd be happy for the chance to act as though he did, so she waits.
"Well?" he says, looking over at her. A breeze blows in from the window, ruffling his hair so artfully that she'd accuse him of doing it on purpose if he were any good with wind. "Who wins the bet?"
"Axel," she says. "Who else?"
Marluxia nods. "Of course. He was cheating."
"Mmm." Larxene pictures that for a minute. "We'll kill him last," she says brightly.