Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Resurrection I: Dead or Alive ❯ The Swordsman ( Chapter 2 )

Face shadowed, Auron bent his head towards the mage's, peeling back the muffler around his neck and letting it fall. Time seemed to unwind and slow, and even the pyreflies appeared to be meandering sluggishly. Lu took a sharp breath, wondering briefly if some of Sin's toxin had possessed her. Then there was no more time for thought. Auron bypassed her upturned face and brushed dry lips against the porcelain skin of her exposed neck.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

Her flesh tingled with the same sensation as before, only more strongly. His touch reminded her of the buildup of energy in her hands before she cast a lightning bolt. The man's presence was overpowering, like a mountain looming against the sky, and yet she sensed no emotion from him at all as he began to plash her skin with light, sensuous, feathery kisses. Slowly he worked his way down, across her bared shoulders, lingering hauntingly over the hollow of her throat. His sword-arm settled solidly behind her back as he continued his pilgrimage. Head tilted back, hands clenched loosely at her sides, Lulu felt a tremor go through her that she had not felt in a very long time.

 

Oddly, he did not touch her breasts. Chappu had always leapt upon them early, greedy and simple in his desires. Auron barely seemed to notice them- unlike most men, who tended to talk to them rather than to her, as if unaware that she was attached to them. No, he showed no such single-minded bias as he sampled the landscape of her flesh with probing kisses, changing pressure and rhythm whenever she responded with a stifled gasp or quickening breath. At last he worked his way up to her chin, her face, her cheeks, her eyelids- a dangerous moment, for it meant lowering her guard completely, if only for a few seconds— and finally her mouth. His lips were neither warm nor cool, but he had not forgotten how to use them.

 

"Mmmm," she murmured, licking his lips.

 

Auron's gaze still smoldered with that eerie eldritch light, as if his true eyes were hidden behind another layer of lenses. She found his reserve strangely liberating. Seymour's smug possessiveness had disgusted her, the artless hangdog glances of Yuna's younger suitor made her impatient just watching them, and if Auron had displayed the tender intimacy of a lover, she would have been outraged by the trespass on Chappu's memory. No, there was something else she sought just now. The intensity of Auron's gaze was a window on his pure, raw, paradoxical will to cling to life. She met his kisses with an answering passion that had little to do with love. If no wood or fuel was on hand, a mage might resort to magical fire to stay warm.

 

Auron's kisses had become rougher. His arm, which had slipped down to brace the small of her back, held her forcefully against his body so that she was bent beneath him in a graceful arc. She let out a soft throaty moan as his tongue stole between her lips and dove within. He replied with one of those sardonic guttural noises, half amused, half deadly, that he often used to express satisfaction with a kill.

 

Lulu's hands began to rove— she was unaccustomed to playing such a passive role for long— first gliding up the sinewy muscles of his left arm, then across his weathered face, through his grizzled hair, down his ponytail, and along faded scars on his neck that vanished into his armor. Every texture had a tale behind it, but she was not interested in stories of the Legendary Hero just now. She felt no hint of a pulse when her fingers played across his throat, but she was thoroughly beginning to enjoy the challenge she had set herself, trying to provoke a response from him with delicate, teasing touches.

 

He growled into her mouth, and her lips curled in secret triumph.

 

The next delicious moment came when he reached up with his free hand to draw out one of the sticks holding most of her hair in place. One black tress came tumbling down against the nape of her neck. He repeated this process one hairstick at a time, pausing between them to arrange and smooth each lock of hair over her bare neck and shoulders. When he was finished, he pulled away from her mouth to examine his handiwork. The luxurious black waves that framed her white skin, falling halfway down her back, were a feast for the eyes. "Apparently," he whispered between slow, insistent kisses, tickling her neck as he removed her necklaces and draped them across the hilt of his sword,"Maester Seymour is unmoved by wisdom, beauty, and strength. Otherwise I can't see why he never pursued you."

 

She sighed appreciatively as the silken strands and beads brushed over her skin. "He seeks only a pawn. You're telling me you are?"

 

"Not usually." He answered her question more directly with another forceful kiss.

 

She moaned and returned the favor, gripping his shoulders. Unfortunately, his heavy coat was in the way. And damn the man's armor! What use was it for a dead man anyway? She fumbled to unbuckle the sash around his waist so that she could push his coat off his shoulders. Better. His arms gave at least some field for her own bewitching craft. Guided by instinct, the mage traced the ley lines and currents of power that she sensed beneath the surface of his skin. It was the first clue that had aroused her suspicions during their nightly vigil: the thrum of energies kept under tension just beyond her sight, the power of a physical body maintained by sheer force of will. It awed her like one of the Fayth. She wanted to touch it, grasp it, drink it...

 

Auron's raw, turbulent kisses soon drove away more esoteric thoughts, and for a while she gave herself over entirely to oral pleasures, sucking and nuzzling, their hot tongues pushing and wrestling and sliding out of each other's grasp. Now and then his rough chin rasped against her cheek. She whispered unintelligible sweet murmurs into his mouth. Finally, giving the sensitive skin inside his upper arm a sharp pinch, she relinquished his lips to follow her fingers' explorations with more kisses, tasting skin that smelled only of leather, not sweat. His flesh was as clean and pure as an acolyte new-come from a purification bath.

 

Auron had released his stiflingly tight hold on her waist when she moved to disrobe him, and now his hands were free to roam. Even now, he took his time, watching her with that unfathomable gaze while his hands stroked her with unhurried, firm caresses, like rollers breaking on the beach. Oh, yes, he had finally remembered her breasts. She drew another sharp breath as his thumbs deftly coaxed nipples to life beneath the stiff fabric of her corset. But this was only one stop on his pilgrimage, as he roamed the contours of her shoulderblades, the hourglass dip of her waist, the sensitive flesh of her stomach, the smooth lines of her arms, the leap of living pulse in each of her wrists. Her breathing was fast and ragged now, and she gasped when one of his hands slipped through the jumbled net of belts and straps and buckles that served as a skirt, and skimmed lightly over her inner thigh.

 

It had been so long. Yes, she had worn that rather unique style of dress even before Chappu's death, although she had heard the whispered speculations about it afterwards. The spiteful rumor was that she wore a padlock between her legs in his memory. Auron however, understood. Dropping to one knee, he eased the buckles loose one by one at a leisurely pace, exposing her flesh by minute degrees like the ice of a frozen lake thawing into water under the kiss of the sun. Now and then he caressed her legs as he worked, brushing fingertips over bare skin or the stocking fabric of her other thigh. He played between the varied textures, making her catch her breath in the lengthy pauses between each electrifying touch. She shivered every time another buckle came free. The loose fittings clinked together whenever he moved or she shuddered.

 

Lulu dug the fingers of one hand into his shoulder to steady herself while she continued to map the storied terrain of his skin wherever it was exposed to her mouth and fingers. Sometimes she lowered her head for another wild exchange of kisses that left her panting and flushed. Damn him, he was barely breathing hard! But she was beginning to be able to read the subtle shifts in his breath, the way his muscles tensed under her hands, and the faint grunts that told her something was getting through. She bit his earlobe and grinned wickedly at his rasping intake of breath, although she paid for it a moment later when a fierce pinch around one nipple brought sparks to her vision, and left a throbbing sting that took some while to subside.

 

That signal seemed to set him off, and his movements became erratic, unpredictable. Rising to his feet, he drew his hand up slowly from her navel to her throat with fingers outstretched to brush across her breasts. He held her her loosely by the neck, pulling her towards him. Then he pounced. One moment he was stroking and caressing her hair, her cheekbones and jawline, her exposed skin with exquisite delicacy and artistry, leaving a river of tingling heat in his wake, drawing low soft moans and purrs from his appreciative subject. The next he was biting, wrestling, bruising her lips and squeezing the breath from her ribcage as he claimed her mouth savagely. Eventually he fell to tormenting her breasts through her clothing with an intensity that put Chappu to shame.

 

Lulu was afraid he would simply rip away the outer corset that kept up the neckline of her dress, but he caught both of her wrists and held them firmly when she tried to reach back to loosen the ties. Spinning her around, he seized the loose ends of the laces with his teeth and pulled. The knot slipped free. Slowly he worked his way down her back with his teeth, pulling the laces free one crisscross at a time. The neckline of her gown began to sag, but still he stubbornly refused to address the full globes of her breasts when they slipped free until he had removed the straps on her upper arms that held up her sleeves. When those last restraints were gone, the top of her dress came tumbling down around her hips. At last he dove in, releasing her wrists to cup her breasts in calloused hands, kissing a heated trail around her body. When he reached her navel, Lulu cried out, reaching down to caress his face. Traveling upwards, Auron began to circle her breasts and nipples in earnest with his tongue, teasingly skipping between them at an erratic tempo. Yet when she began to sway and lean into his attentions, he moved on, nuzzling and biting the soft skin of her smooth belly, making it tremble.

 

She gave a throaty cry as the hand that had been toying with her thighs abruptly forced her legs apart and pushed aside the narrow strip of black fabric that covered her. "Hmph," he grunted, that understated predatory rumble that was his trademark in battle. His thumb and forefinger eased their way into her heated folds. She was already slippery. Again a ripple of lightning seemed to pass through her body at his probing touch. He enveloped her mouth in another heated kiss. Meanwhile his fingers closed over the jewel of her sex and began to fondle her with exquisite, unbearable intensity.

 

The sorceress was strong, but it was too much. Yet pride muzzled her from pleading for gentler handling. She made herself endure the painful pleasure- by no means silently. She bit his lower lip hard, trying to stifle her cries. She was not sure whether she tasted or imagined blood, but he growled back at her. His left arm came up behind her shoulders to steady her, fingers playing with her hair, while his right danced and teased her sex with frenzied torment, occasionally easing off into delicious, slow strokes when she thought she would not be able to stand a second longer without screaming.

 

Auron kissed the tears on her cheeks, a hint of compassion in his gaze behind the strange fire. "Do you still want this?"

 

"Absolutely." She fought for air and fired back, "Show me you do."

 

He captured her mouth again to muffle a genuine scream as his fingers thrust into her, first one, then two, while his thumb quivered maddeningly outside. Her body was shaking, and her will had deserted her. She could no longer focus her mind on the game of trying to to make him react to her own flavor of torment. Lulu was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, whirled around and around by the forceful strokes driving in and out of her body's heated center. Auron was breathing heavily into her hair. The leather straps of her clothing creaked, and the buckles jingled as he plundered her living warmth. Her moans were starting to flow together and deepen. Heat was spreading up through her body in waves. She began to be able to withstand and even revel in his unmerciful pace. Head thrown back, gripping his shoulders, she found herself rocking against his hand to coax him to go even harder.

 

A third and fourth finger forced their way in. She was filled, filled and alive and every inch of her skin silently screaming, gleaming with perspiration. Lu felt the world begin to fall away in small shuddering explosions. Auron's thumb kept fleeting contact with her most sensitive spot while his fingers plunged inside, and she was only dizzily aware of his tongue curling around hers. He groaned her name indistinctly into her mouth, then twisted his fingers inside her, aiming and diving at some secret point.

 

The swordsman had found his mark. Waves of pleasure rippled out from it through her body to every inch of skin and back again. The world ceased to exist, and all she could feel was her body wracked by sweet thunder, shuddering uncontrollably as Auron held her one-armed to keep her from falling. She threw her head back, throat aching as her mouth dropped open in a silent howl.

 

Auron smiled faintly, watching her steely features undone by ecstasy. Gradually he slowed his movements, stopped, and slid his hand free.

 

She sighed and hung there, lashes shivering against her cheeks, eyes closed. The world returned to her by slow degrees: the dreamy whisper of water, the hushed stirring of leaves overhead, strange drawn-out cries of distant animals, the scent of earth and mist and her own intoxicated body. There was a rustle as he spread out his coat over the leaves with his boot. Then he gently lowered both of them to the ground, settling Lulu on her back and propping himself over her on one arm. He caressed her hair quietly and watched her heaving breaths slowly return to normal.

 

At last she opened her eyes and smiled. "You... by Yevon, I do not think you learned to do that in the monastery."

 

Another snort. "You would be surprised. But it is different with a friend."

 

"Ugh." She shied away from that train of thought, not up to facing more disillusionment with the Teachings just now. She let out a long tremulous sigh. "I should like to lie here and savor this properly, but I suppose we should be getting back before we are missed."

 

He chuckled softly. "You are distracted. Listen. Look."

 

The forest sounded eerie, but she had assumed that was due to the blood surging in her ears. Yet something was out of joint. At first she could not place it. Then she saw how the pyreflies seemed frozen, suspended overhead. No, not frozen. They were spiraling as slowly as the hands of an Al Bhed clock.

 

"Hastega?" She lifted herself to kiss his cheek. "Are you sure you did not cast Beserk on yourself by accident?"

 

"Hmph," was the faintly smug response. His eyes crinkled. "I had a feeling you would last a while."

 

"In that case," she purred, stretching languidly beneath him, "I believe I still have to fulfill my part of the challenge." She reached for the clasps along the seam of his breastplate.