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Traditions of Old/Only the Moon Howls
folder
Final Fantasy Games › Final Fantasy XII
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,204
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy Games › Final Fantasy XII
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,204
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Basch or Balthier nor any other thing related to Final Fantasy XII, I write this for my own pleasure and make no money from it
Only the Moon Howls. Part 1
Story: Only the Moon Howls. Part 1. (Soft R)
Title: Only the Moon Howls. Part 1
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII (OGC)
Part of: The Courage of Being Free
Follows: Traditions of old
Spoilers: None
Characters: Basch, Balthier, brief mentions of Vaan, Penelo and Fran.
Pairing: Basch/Balthier
Rating: Soft R
Warnings: Solo M, voyeurism (sort of), hint of Basch's hand fetish (which is something of a recurring theme in my
writing)
Reviews are love.
Author's note: I hope for there to be a third chapter to this story but I am not certain when it will be completed.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Basch took a deep breath and inwardly cursed Fran, he doubted he'd be in this situation if it wasn't for her.
He heard Vaan and Penelo speak somewhere near the fire outside and consoled him to know that they could not hear what he hears.
The sounds of night always comforted him and yet, he could not long for the sun to rise any more than he already did.
Soft and silent, barely audible.
Gods, those sounds could melt the winter of Landis. Basch turned his head ever so slightly in a vain attempt
to spare at least one of his ears the torment.
The mental images did nothing to ease his discomfort, instead they worsened the situation and he was very, very glad that
he tended to sleep on his stomach.
He could feel the heat radiating from Balthier's body, sense the discrete movements to his left rather than hear them and
actually smell the surprisingly appealing scent of the pirate's sweat.
All of those things should have left him feeling uncomfortable in a very different way.
Balthier's breathing hitched and Basch tensed at the sound, trying to make his body forget the meaning of such small noises.
He held no illutions towards his limited success in that matter.
Had the other man waited but six more days, Basch would not have been forced to try to shut his disobedient eyes or tune out
those wonderful sounds. Six days before the end of the ninth moon's journey.
Metal touched metal and the small click they created caused Basch to roughly bite his own tongue to silence himself.
Pictures of rainbow colored rings against slick and heated flesh flashed before his closed eyes and he groaned into his blanket,
attempting to pass the groan off as one of the many sounds a sleeping man could make.
It changed again and Basch was all too familliar with that kind of desperation not to know it when he heard it.
A still leather clad leg moved and brushed against his own calf, a muffled curse reached his ears through the darkness.
It was becoming unbearably warm, the sweat trickled down his own body only to be absorbed by the rough fibres of the blanket
he covered himself with and the warmth would have made him relax at any other time given but this night it was torture.
Basch wanted nothing more than to give in to the warmth, feel it travel through his body and make him forget all the
pains and aches in his exhausted body. The need was so strong, it always is, but he forces himself not to give in.
His hands remain where they are, fingers entwining with the blanket, gripping it so hard that his knuckles become white.
His eyes stay closed, desperatedly attempting to save him from the sight of beautiful hands working a throbbing length.
But he hears it.
It is there. Metal against metal. Muffled moans and maddening movements.
He remembered it. The feeling of another's pulse. The unique taste of the man himself. The colorful metal rings on elegant fingers
and the wonderful sensation when they brushed against his lips.
What he had almost forgotten was that specific tone in Balthier's voice as he approached his climax. The need. The instinct. The pleasure.
The moan that he has only heard once before made his flesh throb in painful need as Balthier came and it overwheled him, caught him off guard.
Before he'd noticed it, an anwsering moan escaped from his own lips.
Had it not betrayed him to do so, Basch would have buried his blushing face in his hands.
Balthier breathed heavily, forcing himself to regain complete control of his spent body before Basch heard him wipe his hand clean.
"It is not nice to eavesdrop, dear Captain."
Never before had it seemed so desirable to hide under his blanket and stay there until eternity was complete.
Title: Only the Moon Howls. Part 1
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII (OGC)
Part of: The Courage of Being Free
Follows: Traditions of old
Spoilers: None
Characters: Basch, Balthier, brief mentions of Vaan, Penelo and Fran.
Pairing: Basch/Balthier
Rating: Soft R
Warnings: Solo M, voyeurism (sort of), hint of Basch's hand fetish (which is something of a recurring theme in my
writing)
Reviews are love.
Author's note: I hope for there to be a third chapter to this story but I am not certain when it will be completed.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Basch took a deep breath and inwardly cursed Fran, he doubted he'd be in this situation if it wasn't for her.
He heard Vaan and Penelo speak somewhere near the fire outside and consoled him to know that they could not hear what he hears.
The sounds of night always comforted him and yet, he could not long for the sun to rise any more than he already did.
Soft and silent, barely audible.
Gods, those sounds could melt the winter of Landis. Basch turned his head ever so slightly in a vain attempt
to spare at least one of his ears the torment.
The mental images did nothing to ease his discomfort, instead they worsened the situation and he was very, very glad that
he tended to sleep on his stomach.
He could feel the heat radiating from Balthier's body, sense the discrete movements to his left rather than hear them and
actually smell the surprisingly appealing scent of the pirate's sweat.
All of those things should have left him feeling uncomfortable in a very different way.
Balthier's breathing hitched and Basch tensed at the sound, trying to make his body forget the meaning of such small noises.
He held no illutions towards his limited success in that matter.
Had the other man waited but six more days, Basch would not have been forced to try to shut his disobedient eyes or tune out
those wonderful sounds. Six days before the end of the ninth moon's journey.
Metal touched metal and the small click they created caused Basch to roughly bite his own tongue to silence himself.
Pictures of rainbow colored rings against slick and heated flesh flashed before his closed eyes and he groaned into his blanket,
attempting to pass the groan off as one of the many sounds a sleeping man could make.
It changed again and Basch was all too familliar with that kind of desperation not to know it when he heard it.
A still leather clad leg moved and brushed against his own calf, a muffled curse reached his ears through the darkness.
It was becoming unbearably warm, the sweat trickled down his own body only to be absorbed by the rough fibres of the blanket
he covered himself with and the warmth would have made him relax at any other time given but this night it was torture.
Basch wanted nothing more than to give in to the warmth, feel it travel through his body and make him forget all the
pains and aches in his exhausted body. The need was so strong, it always is, but he forces himself not to give in.
His hands remain where they are, fingers entwining with the blanket, gripping it so hard that his knuckles become white.
His eyes stay closed, desperatedly attempting to save him from the sight of beautiful hands working a throbbing length.
But he hears it.
It is there. Metal against metal. Muffled moans and maddening movements.
He remembered it. The feeling of another's pulse. The unique taste of the man himself. The colorful metal rings on elegant fingers
and the wonderful sensation when they brushed against his lips.
What he had almost forgotten was that specific tone in Balthier's voice as he approached his climax. The need. The instinct. The pleasure.
The moan that he has only heard once before made his flesh throb in painful need as Balthier came and it overwheled him, caught him off guard.
Before he'd noticed it, an anwsering moan escaped from his own lips.
Had it not betrayed him to do so, Basch would have buried his blushing face in his hands.
Balthier breathed heavily, forcing himself to regain complete control of his spent body before Basch heard him wipe his hand clean.
"It is not nice to eavesdrop, dear Captain."
Never before had it seemed so desirable to hide under his blanket and stay there until eternity was complete.