hastegas: (Hi ho silver hair! Away!)
hastegas ([personal profile] hastegas) wrote in [community profile] jigglephysics2015-05-18 09:07 pm

(no subject)

Life had long since become cyclical for Tidus.

He wakes up. He eats. He mulls around the house. He goes for a long swim. He comes back in, showers, heads to practice. He comes home. He swims again or practices on his own on the deck of his home by the water. He tucks back into bed again and sleeps.

The only upheavals in his painfully predictable life alone in his home come from games, the occasional night out with his team or an adoring fan and Auron's visits. He looks forward to them, no matter the context, because they tear up the heavy, grey blanket that has long since settled over him and smothered him slowly under its weight. He wants change. He wants a life without sunrises and sunsets he has to count down. Tidus wants tomorrows that come too soon and yesterdays that leave too late. He wants adventure, excitement, something to break this mold he has been shoved into as he cycles through his life in a house of ghosts and silence.

Practice never brings fatigue and coming home in the dimming light of dusk brings little hope of sleep when he hasn't worn out his reserves of energy just yet. It's not that he wants to sleep, that's just boring, but it would at least be a change of pace to get truly worn out and knocked to the ground by his own muscle aches. Nothing in this common rotation brings challenge for him anymore. It's likely why he lives for the thrill of games and the adrenaline that runs through him right before he submerges himself.

He pushes the door open and greets the quiet, emptiness of his house with a loud 'I'm home!' that seems to echo off of nothing and greet him in return. He crinkles his nose and tosses his bag of wet clothes from his practice across the room towards his couch.

"I can't think of a single thing I want to do tonight... No one even wanted to go out this time. This sucks."
entrust: (pic#768217)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-01 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
Auron's lips thin when he feels the pressure of fingers on the corners of his glasses, while he waits for them to be lifted away. When that doesn't happen, his grip shifts, that simple smile blurring past his vision at the same time as he feels warm breath against the skin at his temple, like he noticed before, when Tidus's questions seemed simpler. They were simple enough for him to answer, anyway. But nothing he'd agreed to, up until now, was any different than what brought him here. Not easy for Tidus, but easy for him.

He has a slight frame, and sharp elbows that are pressed against his collarbone.

"Incentive?"

His voice is sharp, but he hasn't dropped him yet.
entrust: (pic#768216)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-01 02:29 am (UTC)(link)
"I..."

There's a gap in the sensation when he presses that kiss to his ruined eye, bisected by the dark, nerveless line running from his brow to his cheek. It seems strange that his body still follows these rules now that he's no longer truly flesh and blood, but perhaps those are the limits of the mind. His mind is wandering. On the edge of — Something.

His chest is tight, but not because of Tidus's weight. Auron shuts his eye just for long enough to breathe in and out once.

This was always meant to be his penance, but it was about more than the mistakes he made. If Jecht could see him now...

For some reason, he always pictures him laughing. He supposes he deserves it.

"Trust me. If I was, you would know.

Are you sure?"
entrust: (pic#768218)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-01 05:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"Hmph."

Is all Auron has to say to that. It's harder than usual to reply with his lip trapped between two rows of teeth, cheeky smile too close to see. The impression is there all the same. When he closes his eye the second time it's to respond in kind — revenge, maybe — bumping teeth against teeth and lips against lips, not quite a proper kiss, as though any of this is approaching proper. If his younger self could see him now... That's where the trouble lies, but he never had any idea what he was doing, anyway.

He can't raise his hand to bat away the fingers curled around his ponytail, so his only means of retaliation is a sharp squeeze around around his center. It could be a warning. That'd be a safe bet, coming from him.

But even with his limited movement, he can still shake him off long enough to reclaim his mouth to speak.

"We should... Go inside."

Maybe he'll get lucky and Tidus will lose his nerve.
entrust: (pic#768213)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-02 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
A sound rumbles in his throat in direct response to the pressure at the base of his skull. That's going to become a problem. Maybe he should have cut his hair when he had the chance, but he still prefers not to, despite the other changes to his appearance. He allows himself a few old familiarities, that's all, and now he's suffering for them. The familiarity he's allowing himself now is, well... He's suffering for that, too.

"What would your fans say?"

There might be some jealousy. On their part. Auron's seen the way those people grab at him like there's nothing else in the world that's so captivating. Zanarkand being Zanarkand, he can't help but understand. Maybe they have no choice. His reasoning is different than theirs, but why else is he here? If Jecht hadn't had a son, he would have never left Spira. He would have died there.

Sometimes, although it's a rare and precious occurrence, he's glad that he didn't.

Right now...

"... If you wish."

There's just the slightest ring of mocking to his tone, but he punctuates by rearranging his grip, an arm bending beneath Tidus's thighs so that he doesn't slip when he looses his legs from about his waist. His body is warm everywhere that he's pressed to him, thighs and hips and hands. With some steady maneuvering, he delivers them safely down the stairs to shoulder open the door. The hum of the ceiling fan adds to the white noise of the water sloshing upon the smooth hull.
Edited 2015-06-02 07:00 (UTC)
entrust: (pic#768211)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-03 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
Auron shuts the door by pressing Tidus back into it, drawn in by the the song he was humming and then the soft press of his mouth, the measure of his homesickness and what lies against it. His arms unwind from around his body slowly enough to give him time to process that he needs to get his feet on the floor before he really does drop him; once freed, Auron places his hands at his hips, thumbs resting against his belt. It's hardly a touch, but it's not without promise. So much for losing his nerve. At this rate, he's most likely to be the one to put a stop to this, but —

He isn't.

It's a better excuse not to speak when he dips down and puts his lips to tanned skin at the juncture between neck and shoulder, exchanging a kiss with another kiss before he bites down in the same place, following the line of muscle until his shirt gets in the way. He picks up his right hand to tug the brightly colored fabric aside, revealing another sliver of shoulder. Even if Tidus can't hear it, he must be able to feel it when he sighs, resigning himself to tugging his suspenders free, to leave them dangling uselessly over his arms.

He brushes the backs of his bare knuckles over a taut stomach. He meant to get further than this. Further than the door, at least.
Edited 2015-06-03 01:08 (UTC)
entrust: (pic#)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-03 04:32 pm (UTC)(link)
His fingers uncurl halfway to his chest before settling over the swell of the muscle there, fingers pressed parallel to his sternum. With the application of just a little of his weight, Tidus is pinned. There's no real reason for him to do it, except perhaps to give a secondary, belated warning that the hands in his hair stay clear of his ponytail this time. It's the only warning he's given. His mouth moves from the slope of his shoulder to the soft space below the crook of his jawline, then to his temple, mirroring the path he took in reverse. Tidus's hair smells, predictably, of the water that the Blitz sphere is filled with.

While his chin is still tilted up, Auron turns to kiss his smile. Then, before he can reciprocate, he says, "Downstairs.", lifts his restraining hand from his chest, and pulls himself free of his arms.

Without looking back, he makes to go ahead of him.
entrust: (pic#768218)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-03 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Not a little bit smug, Auron turns halfway to glance behind him, eyebrow raised this time in poorly concealed amusement. It almost makes him appear younger, hair a mess, glasses pushed up and away from his eyes; even the ugly scar claiming the right half of his face is hidden from where Tidus is standing now. He doesn't say anything in answer to the protests he receives. He doesn't say anything as he climbs down into the cabin and pushes open the door to the room he used to stay in, back when he had little choice about whether or not he should stay, and for that reason still had to maintain certain illusions.

It was no one's room before he came, previously commandeered for storage space, and later rearranged. There's a neatly made bed; a table beside the bed; old furniture, pushed aside; boxes of old clothes, neatly stacked; and boxes of trophies that don't belong to Tidus.

Auron sits on the side of the bed and plucks his glasses from his hair, folding them closed and placing them on the table. Then, he unhooks his collar, leaves it over a bedpost, and begins to pull off his boots.
entrust: (pic#768214)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-03 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
He's aware of Tidus's eyes on him. He doesn't have to look up to imagine the expression that's being leveled his way right now, but he continues without comment, pushing his boots out of the way beneath the bed and taking his fingers to the fastenings on his belt. One he's loosened it from around his waist, he looks up, pretending as though he doesn't notice the unrest he's caused.

"You can sit."

It isn't really his room. Nothing here belongs to him. And, so, there's no need for any courtesy. Perhaps if he actually used it these days he would decide differently; perhaps he'll come to feel that way once he's accustomed to lying in this bed on sleepless nights and listening to the breakers roll through the water outside. When he was younger, he used to try to close his eyes and imagine how far it must be from here to Spira's seas; how many days would it take to sail from Zanarkand's docks to Besaid's shore?

His belt joins his collar, hung over the back of the bed. Removing his gauntlet is a somewhat more invested affair, but once the belts are unfastened he tugs his glove off at the fingers, the big sleeve of his haori furling loose over his wrist.
entrust: (pic#768216)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-04 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
It hasn't escaped Auron's notice, but he doesn't comment, his preference instead to watch Tidus's impatient advance, turning his head aside when he circles around to situate himself behind him. The bed creaks with their shared weight. The way he grabs at him with his hands tells him what he needs to know about why he continues to get upset with him, even as he acquiesces. His hand he lifts to touch the back of Tidus's wrist, still watching while he puts his mouth to his skin.

Tidus is no stranger to an audience.

And he does know why he keeps getting that look on his face, the one that makes him seem younger, even, than he already is. It's what motivates him to turn sideways in his arms, slipping his own arm between their bodies to bend around his side and hedge him in. He presses him close with his hand on his back, right below his shoulder blades and beneath the criss-cross of his loosened suspenders, bare skin under his fingertips.
entrust: (pic#768211)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-06 08:55 am (UTC)(link)
His fingers press into the long tract of Tidus's spine and slide downward, wrinkling the fabric that bunches up under the weight of his hand, and then up, skin hotter where it's hidden beneath his clothes, not exposed to the air, not so quick to dry after he's been in the water. Auron sighs for himself, for the demanding mouth on his throat, for the skinnier chest straining against his with each inhale, for the shivering bend of the back beneath his fingers. What he did at the door had been the impatient answer to an even more insistent question; this is what happens after. It wasn't a plan. He wasn't thinking.

The hand that isn't holding Tidus to him, he slips between their bodies, turning his palm outward to wedge his fingers under the loop of his belt and pull it free from the silver buckle. After, he finds the cross-shaped pull with his fingers and tugs at the zipper until it's parted and his taut stomach his showing. The movement brings his hand low.

He still isn't thinking.
entrust: (pic#768214)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-06 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Auron takes that too-soft touch for what it is, kissing him with the remembered sound of his gasping still fresh in his mind. Tidus's attention, his clutching arms, slices through the last depths of his always so far-away demeanor, the way he drifts from moment to moment as an unachored buoy, free and thus useless, tethering him to the last inch of solid ground he knows. The irony doesn't escape him. Neither does it stop him from scratching his blunt nails in a line along the furrow under his fingers, listening intently for another soft and breathless sound, a little wave cresting and collapsing. Tidus has always been here. He's never really been —

His abrupt thoughts — suddenly and annoyingly unwelcome — don't stop his other arm from finding its way around the body next to his and lifting him that infinitesimal distance so that he's sat on his legs, thighs spread-eagled and warm through the dark material of his pants. His haori is sagging, still half-on half-off his body, the one last physical manifestation of his hesitation. Sitting this way, they're about the same height.
entrust: (pic#768213)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-06 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
He kisses Tidus again, but it isn't to placate him. Perhaps there are still things that he wants as well; since his life left him outside Bevelle he'd stopped giving name to the things he would've wanted before. Even now, he can't envision a future of his own making. The future isn't for him. It's one of the things that's separated the two of them, undoubtedly. Where Tidus is young, and bright, and full of all the potential of a brightening sky, or an open, outstretched hand, Auron is his opposite. Maybe he's not even that. He has nothing ahead of him. His story is already over.

This isn't for him. And yet, despite everything he knows to be true, he still has the ability to feel. The weight on his legs is just one proof.

The way Tidus's soft breaths twist his gut is another.

There's no hesitation when he grants him the kiss that he's seeking, his good eye shut, chin angling when he presses harder and opens his mouth to the plush lips under his own. He pulls his right hand away from around his body to leave his haori a red pool of fabric shrugged off on the bed. His eye opens a sliver, but he can only see the sweep of his eyelashes, the tawny flush of exertion on his cheek. Instead of trying to look properly, he grabs the back of his suspenders and tugs at them so the straps press at the crooks of his elbows and his belt falls fully open.

He can't take it off until he cooperates.
entrust: (pic#)

[personal profile] entrust 2015-06-08 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
That's an invitation, the wet tongue on his lip, and he takes it, continuing to take, pressing his own tongue inside Tidus's mouth while he takes advantage of his lax arms to pull his suspenders free and finally drop them to the floor; then slips his fingers beneath his high-cut shirt, over his bare chest, and pushes that off over his shoulders as well, tugging the garment down his arms and free from his wrists. He discards it along with the suspenders before trying to decide where his hands should go next, with Tidus's whole body bent toward him, shaped into a subtle curve.

Auron's hands come to rest on his hips, thumbs placed against the waistband of his shorts.

If this is wrong to anyone, Auron hasn't considered it. Ten years in Zanarkand isn't enough to take away what Spira has taught him about the preciousness of being able to give freely. What they are to one another, he's never troubled himself over trying to define, to himself or to anyone else.

As though there's anyone else to tell.

It isn't what he's thinking of, squeezing Tidus's soft sides under his hands, palming the smooth jut of his hipbones, bone across bone, being kissed again and realizing he's lost count of the number of times it's happened. Instead, his hands drag down to squeeze thighs, wrap fingers around knobby knees, thumbs pressed to the hollowed spaces below his kneecaps.
Edited 2015-06-08 05:32 (UTC)

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