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Entry tags:
FFX: Mimicry
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Pairing: Jecht/Auron/Braska
Warnings: Angst, implied smut
Rating: PG13
Summary: The things Auron misses, caught in a world where he shouldn't remain.
Auron thought he'd miss the big things about being alive. Bleeding, for one thing -- not exactly something you'd miss, but you'd feel odd without it. He imagined he'd stop sleeping and consequently dreaming, and that's almost true. It's not exactly sleep, but some tattered mimicry of it that makes him wonder why anyone would hold on for anything less than promises made to a dying lover. He misses breathing more than anything, his own and theirs, and he notices much more than he thought he would that the breath doesn't come anymore.
More than his own breath he misses theirs, a constant ache somewhere in a part of him that shouldn't ache because he feels so little now. He misses their soft breathing beside him at night and he misses the way Jecht could make Braska breathe in the heat of sex, teasing and teasing with that wicked mouth of his. He misses the way Braska would kiss him then, panting softly and curling an arm around him to hold him close.
He misses the rush of an indrawn breath when between them he'd arch at it, the complex teasing taunting pleasure drawing him out and making him need. He misses Jecht's breath against his neck, the sound of his own pants in the quiet night.
More than that he misses the way they would lay together, too close and too warm but too stubborn or too reluctant to part. He misses the way Braska's breath would blossom warm and moist against his shoulder and Jecht's breathy laughter.
He'd give the world for one more night of breathing, his breathing and theirs.
But he doesn't even have dreams of that -- only dreams of stillness, and barren breathlessness, and of being caught and held between one world and another by promises and others' needs.
Pairing: Jecht/Auron/Braska
Warnings: Angst, implied smut
Rating: PG13
Summary: The things Auron misses, caught in a world where he shouldn't remain.
Auron thought he'd miss the big things about being alive. Bleeding, for one thing -- not exactly something you'd miss, but you'd feel odd without it. He imagined he'd stop sleeping and consequently dreaming, and that's almost true. It's not exactly sleep, but some tattered mimicry of it that makes him wonder why anyone would hold on for anything less than promises made to a dying lover. He misses breathing more than anything, his own and theirs, and he notices much more than he thought he would that the breath doesn't come anymore.
More than his own breath he misses theirs, a constant ache somewhere in a part of him that shouldn't ache because he feels so little now. He misses their soft breathing beside him at night and he misses the way Jecht could make Braska breathe in the heat of sex, teasing and teasing with that wicked mouth of his. He misses the way Braska would kiss him then, panting softly and curling an arm around him to hold him close.
He misses the rush of an indrawn breath when between them he'd arch at it, the complex teasing taunting pleasure drawing him out and making him need. He misses Jecht's breath against his neck, the sound of his own pants in the quiet night.
More than that he misses the way they would lay together, too close and too warm but too stubborn or too reluctant to part. He misses the way Braska's breath would blossom warm and moist against his shoulder and Jecht's breathy laughter.
He'd give the world for one more night of breathing, his breathing and theirs.
But he doesn't even have dreams of that -- only dreams of stillness, and barren breathlessness, and of being caught and held between one world and another by promises and others' needs.
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