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FFX-2: Accidentally on Purpose
Fandom: Final Fantasy X-2
Main characters: Gippal, Baralai
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Gippal/Baralai
Contains: Sex
Rating: R
Summary: Baralai can't get this thought out of his mind.
Notes: Written for the Porn Battle, but I didn't contrive to make it as porny as planned.
It is really so far from appropriate that the thought should never have entered into his mind at all, but once it did enter, Baralai is powerless to stop thinking it. He's always been very aware of Gippal, the sheer energy of him, the strength and cleverness of his hands, the quirk of his lips... Baralai jerks back from the thought again, just as Gippal murmurs something right in his ear, more breath than sound, and --
It's Gippal's mouth, that's the problem. Baralai can't remember noticing it so much before: the way he shapes his words, the flash of teeth when he grins and when he laughs, the way he sounds... Especially when he speaks in Al Bhed, somehow, the unfamiliar words making the tone and delivery the most important thing, making Baralai focus in on him and him alone.
When Gippal murmurs something in his ear again, Baralai is beginning to think he's doing it on purpose. The damp warmth of breath and the tickle of cold when he pulls away; the lowness in his voice... Both tug at something deep inside Baralai, make him want.
He's not naive: he knows what this feeling is.
It is far, far too long before the meeting is over, and Baralai does not take enough of it in, and can only hope he hasn't said anything absurd or irrelevant. It was only a preliminary, really, a meeting between the political leaders and their closest followers, but still, it wouldn't do to make a bad first impression. Although, Baralai supposes, there couldn't be a start much worse than their history, these groups, but this is a fresh start.
Still, all he could think of was doing what he does now: he pushes Gippal into a room as the others pass by. He hears someone say something, questioning, but he closes the door behind them -- Gippal mercifully silent -- and silently thanks whoever decided to hold this meeting in Bevelle, where all the buildings belong, belonged, to Yevon, where he has walked every inch of them in his need to know his own ground.
"Baralai," Gippal says, and somehow he's not curious, not questioning -- ah, Baralai thinks: he was doing it on purpose, he felt the same awareness, the same tug between them.
"You're maddening," he says, and Gippal grins, easy, with that flash of teeth.
"I know."
Baralai presses him to the wall and kisses him, holds his wrists tightly as if to hold him there -- not sure why, but going on instinct, following the thread of awareness to discover what Gippal wants, what he likes, reading him like a book and gladder than he has ever been for that skill. Gippal shivers, just a little, and opens his mouth, lets Baralai in.
"If I knew that's what it'd take to shut you up -- " Baralai says, suddenly breathless, and kisses Gippal again, full of a sweet ache, a restless need. He wants to kiss Gippal breathless -- which does not, it transpires, take too long -- he wants to fill Gippal up with the same need, make him burn with it, as all of a sudden he is burning...
Sudden? He thinks of the times he has looked at Gippal, of all the times he has found Gippal looking back, and almost laughs at himself for thinking this sudden, new.
"About time you realised," Gippal says, horribly amused and apparently in answer to his thought. Baralai bites at Gippal's lip and tightens his hold on his wrists, in response, and Gippal moans, and that sound, oh --
Baralai prides himself on having a cool head, on being one who looks before he leaps, who thinks things out and makes plans, but Gippal has always been able to push him past this, to make him jump in feet first and unprotected -- and that is surely what they're doing now, as they fumble with each other's clothes and learn the feel of each other, scars and smooth skin and the prickle of hair when he trails his fingers down, wraps his hand around Gippal's cock --
It doesn't take long, not long at all, not this time. But Baralai watches Gippal in the aftermath, the way his mouth is slack with pleasure and reddened where Baralai bit him, and now he is definitely making plans.
Main characters: Gippal, Baralai
Referenced characters: N/a
Pairings: Gippal/Baralai
Contains: Sex
Rating: R
Summary: Baralai can't get this thought out of his mind.
Notes: Written for the Porn Battle, but I didn't contrive to make it as porny as planned.
It is really so far from appropriate that the thought should never have entered into his mind at all, but once it did enter, Baralai is powerless to stop thinking it. He's always been very aware of Gippal, the sheer energy of him, the strength and cleverness of his hands, the quirk of his lips... Baralai jerks back from the thought again, just as Gippal murmurs something right in his ear, more breath than sound, and --
It's Gippal's mouth, that's the problem. Baralai can't remember noticing it so much before: the way he shapes his words, the flash of teeth when he grins and when he laughs, the way he sounds... Especially when he speaks in Al Bhed, somehow, the unfamiliar words making the tone and delivery the most important thing, making Baralai focus in on him and him alone.
When Gippal murmurs something in his ear again, Baralai is beginning to think he's doing it on purpose. The damp warmth of breath and the tickle of cold when he pulls away; the lowness in his voice... Both tug at something deep inside Baralai, make him want.
He's not naive: he knows what this feeling is.
It is far, far too long before the meeting is over, and Baralai does not take enough of it in, and can only hope he hasn't said anything absurd or irrelevant. It was only a preliminary, really, a meeting between the political leaders and their closest followers, but still, it wouldn't do to make a bad first impression. Although, Baralai supposes, there couldn't be a start much worse than their history, these groups, but this is a fresh start.
Still, all he could think of was doing what he does now: he pushes Gippal into a room as the others pass by. He hears someone say something, questioning, but he closes the door behind them -- Gippal mercifully silent -- and silently thanks whoever decided to hold this meeting in Bevelle, where all the buildings belong, belonged, to Yevon, where he has walked every inch of them in his need to know his own ground.
"Baralai," Gippal says, and somehow he's not curious, not questioning -- ah, Baralai thinks: he was doing it on purpose, he felt the same awareness, the same tug between them.
"You're maddening," he says, and Gippal grins, easy, with that flash of teeth.
"I know."
Baralai presses him to the wall and kisses him, holds his wrists tightly as if to hold him there -- not sure why, but going on instinct, following the thread of awareness to discover what Gippal wants, what he likes, reading him like a book and gladder than he has ever been for that skill. Gippal shivers, just a little, and opens his mouth, lets Baralai in.
"If I knew that's what it'd take to shut you up -- " Baralai says, suddenly breathless, and kisses Gippal again, full of a sweet ache, a restless need. He wants to kiss Gippal breathless -- which does not, it transpires, take too long -- he wants to fill Gippal up with the same need, make him burn with it, as all of a sudden he is burning...
Sudden? He thinks of the times he has looked at Gippal, of all the times he has found Gippal looking back, and almost laughs at himself for thinking this sudden, new.
"About time you realised," Gippal says, horribly amused and apparently in answer to his thought. Baralai bites at Gippal's lip and tightens his hold on his wrists, in response, and Gippal moans, and that sound, oh --
Baralai prides himself on having a cool head, on being one who looks before he leaps, who thinks things out and makes plans, but Gippal has always been able to push him past this, to make him jump in feet first and unprotected -- and that is surely what they're doing now, as they fumble with each other's clothes and learn the feel of each other, scars and smooth skin and the prickle of hair when he trails his fingers down, wraps his hand around Gippal's cock --
It doesn't take long, not long at all, not this time. But Baralai watches Gippal in the aftermath, the way his mouth is slack with pleasure and reddened where Baralai bit him, and now he is definitely making plans.
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THE QUESTION IS, DO WE GET TO SEE HIS PLANS. Nikki. ;__; I feel like we need the epic where Baralai has everything he wants to do to Gippal organized in a neat little file. Like, ahem, "R" for RESTRAINT? Gippal moaning, jfc, that needs to be exploited. Please tell me you agree??? *sparkles*
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My brain pretty much went *phut* when I started contemplating that one.
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I have been pondering something based on it for aaaages, ever since I first owned the wall scroll, it's just not workiiiiing. If it is a bunny, it is old and cranky and doesn't like people much.
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I will just wait patiently. Because, eventually the the idea will cheer up and go WRITE ME in big sparkling flashy letters? RIGHT?
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Eventually, it should! Especially if people metaphorically feed it carrots.
Sometimes, I feel like making a public announcement to FFX-2 fandom as a whole. "You realise Gippal has straps and buckles ROUND HIS WRISTS, right? Give me fic! Give me art! Put them to good use."
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Carrots like, um.
"You were nervous in the meeting," Baralai says. "It's just the Kilika Council, they're scarier than they look."
"No," Gippal says, roughly. "I just—look, if you wanted to get my attention you could have just tapped me on the shoulder."
Baralai is startled. "What do you mean? I just tugged on the strap a bit." He narrows his eyes. "Are you hurt again, I've told you to be more careful on those digs—
Gippal's eyes flash. "I'm not hurt, and it's none of your business," he says. "I don't let just anyone mess with those, so back off."
He stalks away, and Baralai is left at sea, confused and wondering what Gippal meant...and who exactly it is that's allowed to touch the leather straps around his wrists.
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"Do you know what these make me think of?" Baralai asks, soft and rough, against Gippal's ear. Gippal can't help but shudder: he's never heard Baralai like this in front of anyone else, never heard him be anything but smoothly polite, even when he's angry enough to raise his voice. And Baralai's fingers are curling round his wrists, under the buckles, a finger pushing up under the strap and smoothing over the underside of the leather.
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A bit later than the bit I already showed you:
Gippal closes his eye and nods, not trusting his voice. Baralai kisses his closed eyelid, and then the patch over his other eye, and then his mouth drags down over the side of Gippal's face to his jaw, his earlobe, the spot under his ear where -- against any common sense -- he loves to be bitten. For a moment, Baralai just breathes against it, and Gippal whimpers.