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finalfantasyxivfanworksTitle: Is that a knife in your pocket or...?
Characters Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel
Rating: M
Warnings: Non-explicit sexual themes
“I’m beginning to suspect you’re trying to create a lethal chastity belt.”
“Only to those who try to place an unwary hand down my pants,” Aza admitted, not moving from his lazy sprawl on the bed as Aymeric inspected his opened breeches – or rather, the slim, subtle knives that he kept hidden within the waistband of his breeches. Aza prided himself on never going anywhere without some form of protection, and as he ended up meeting with so many dignitaries or high value targets- er, persons, he got very good at the game of ‘how many weapons can I slip past the security?’
So far, his personal best was seven.
“One of those unwary hands will be me one day,” Aymeric sighed, but there was an amused tilt to his smile, his fingers gently brushing over the dark curls that made up Aza’s happy trail, “It’s fortunate I felt them before… hm, I thought you had five…”
“Four,” Aza corrected, a bit breathlessly, as Aymeric slowly hooked his fingers into his waistband, dragging his breeches down almost torturously slowly. He could feel the rough drag of metal and leather against his skin, the warm press of Aymeric’s knuckles, and he closed his eyes in anticipation as his partner made a low, appreciative noise just as he tugged the breeches down past his ankles and off entirely.
“Ah, I see,” Aymeric said, his voice low and rich. There was a rustle of leather and chink of metal, his breeches casually tossed aside. Then; “Four. The fifth thing I felt wasn’t a weapon, it was…”
Aza couldn’t help the stuttering, shocked little laugh when Aymeric teasingly tapped the tip of his arousal, feather-light and ticklish, “Aym!”
“Doesn’t it make you nervous to have so many knives in such a tender area?” Aymeric asked him, and Aza opened his eyes to see his partner sitting comfortably between his spread thighs, his hands gently stroking along the curves of his hips. Unhurried, easy, relaxed, and Aza was content with that, despite the arousal clenching low in his belly. He basked in the gentle touches, sprawled out and breathing deep and slow, his pulse fluttering at the look Aymeric gave him.
“Not really,” Aza mumbled, his eyes heavy-lidded and watching his partner from beneath his eyelashes. Aymeric’s fingers were tracing an ambitious line over his belly now, following the messy scar that cut over his abdomen, just above his navel, “I’ve had decades to perfect my, uh, ‘lethal chastity belt’ for maximum comfort and protection.”
“Indeed,” Aymeric said quietly, his thoughts briefly going to why that was – but the gloom lasted only for a moment, “Well, I suppose I’m honoured, to have free access to something so well-guarded.”
“S’long as your hands stay wary when sticking down my pants,” Aza purred, lazily lifting an arm in an inviting gesture, “Now c’mere, handsome. I wanna kiss.”
“I don’t hear a ‘please’ there~”
“Ugh, Aym. C’mon.”
His partner laughed, quiet and warm, but he indulged him. Large, calloused hands brushed over his sides briefly before Aymeric leaned over him and close, his mouth meeting his in a slow, comfortable kiss. Aza sighed happily into it, wrapping his arms around those broad shoulders and keeping him close. The only man he’d ever suffer on top of him- no, ever enjoy on top of him. His pulse fluttered hot and wanting whenever Aymeric’s weight pressed him down, held him, a strong, powerful body that he trusted…
A man who looked at him and saw Aza, and not a means to an end.
“You’re purring,” Aymeric murmured against his mouth.
“’Cuz m’happy,” Aza returned huskily, and hooked his leg over his partner’s hip, tugging him closer, “Now, make me happier…”
“Demanding little thing,” Aymeric chuckled, but he indulged him without question.
For that, Aza decided to maybe drop his chastity belt to three knives, instead of four. It would be a shame, after all, to hurt Aym because of a lapse of judgement…
Characters Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel
Rating: M
Warnings: Non-explicit sexual themes
“I’m beginning to suspect you’re trying to create a lethal chastity belt.”
“Only to those who try to place an unwary hand down my pants,” Aza admitted, not moving from his lazy sprawl on the bed as Aymeric inspected his opened breeches – or rather, the slim, subtle knives that he kept hidden within the waistband of his breeches. Aza prided himself on never going anywhere without some form of protection, and as he ended up meeting with so many dignitaries or high value targets- er, persons, he got very good at the game of ‘how many weapons can I slip past the security?’
So far, his personal best was seven.
“One of those unwary hands will be me one day,” Aymeric sighed, but there was an amused tilt to his smile, his fingers gently brushing over the dark curls that made up Aza’s happy trail, “It’s fortunate I felt them before… hm, I thought you had five…”
“Four,” Aza corrected, a bit breathlessly, as Aymeric slowly hooked his fingers into his waistband, dragging his breeches down almost torturously slowly. He could feel the rough drag of metal and leather against his skin, the warm press of Aymeric’s knuckles, and he closed his eyes in anticipation as his partner made a low, appreciative noise just as he tugged the breeches down past his ankles and off entirely.
“Ah, I see,” Aymeric said, his voice low and rich. There was a rustle of leather and chink of metal, his breeches casually tossed aside. Then; “Four. The fifth thing I felt wasn’t a weapon, it was…”
Aza couldn’t help the stuttering, shocked little laugh when Aymeric teasingly tapped the tip of his arousal, feather-light and ticklish, “Aym!”
“Doesn’t it make you nervous to have so many knives in such a tender area?” Aymeric asked him, and Aza opened his eyes to see his partner sitting comfortably between his spread thighs, his hands gently stroking along the curves of his hips. Unhurried, easy, relaxed, and Aza was content with that, despite the arousal clenching low in his belly. He basked in the gentle touches, sprawled out and breathing deep and slow, his pulse fluttering at the look Aymeric gave him.
“Not really,” Aza mumbled, his eyes heavy-lidded and watching his partner from beneath his eyelashes. Aymeric’s fingers were tracing an ambitious line over his belly now, following the messy scar that cut over his abdomen, just above his navel, “I’ve had decades to perfect my, uh, ‘lethal chastity belt’ for maximum comfort and protection.”
“Indeed,” Aymeric said quietly, his thoughts briefly going to why that was – but the gloom lasted only for a moment, “Well, I suppose I’m honoured, to have free access to something so well-guarded.”
“S’long as your hands stay wary when sticking down my pants,” Aza purred, lazily lifting an arm in an inviting gesture, “Now c’mere, handsome. I wanna kiss.”
“I don’t hear a ‘please’ there~”
“Ugh, Aym. C’mon.”
His partner laughed, quiet and warm, but he indulged him. Large, calloused hands brushed over his sides briefly before Aymeric leaned over him and close, his mouth meeting his in a slow, comfortable kiss. Aza sighed happily into it, wrapping his arms around those broad shoulders and keeping him close. The only man he’d ever suffer on top of him- no, ever enjoy on top of him. His pulse fluttered hot and wanting whenever Aymeric’s weight pressed him down, held him, a strong, powerful body that he trusted…
A man who looked at him and saw Aza, and not a means to an end.
“You’re purring,” Aymeric murmured against his mouth.
“’Cuz m’happy,” Aza returned huskily, and hooked his leg over his partner’s hip, tugging him closer, “Now, make me happier…”
“Demanding little thing,” Aymeric chuckled, but he indulged him without question.
For that, Aza decided to maybe drop his chastity belt to three knives, instead of four. It would be a shame, after all, to hurt Aym because of a lapse of judgement…
