jigglephysics | (no subject)

(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."

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"How would they know?"

It's not like he cares. It'd be more attention, one way or another. Maybe not the best attention, but attention, and that's what he likes the most about being a sports star off the field. His focus right now, though, is Auron's attention which has been promised to him and that takes precedence over his hypothetical fans.

Any focus on them vanishes when he gets his way. Auron might be a little annoyed with him, but he's still complying, isn't he?

Auron shifts him in his arms and Tidus drapes his arms over his shoulders, holding onto him in a way that's more reminiscent of when he was small. He seems content, being carried... being warm and close, the center of Auron's world right now. He stays that way, humming the hymn he knows softly, and sways his feet, the picture of the cat that got the cream.

It's the creak of the door that brings him back to his wanton intentions and he straightens enough to lean, tuck Auron's collar down with his fingers, and kiss him by his ear.

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)

Tidus straightens when his back hits the door. He doesn't expect to be caught there, lowered to standing between it and Auron. He looks up at him, arms going slack around his shoulders as he tries to keep holding on despite their difference in height. He's... really going for it. Tidus expected to have to egg him on the whole way, but the hands on his hips seal it. Something in his chest flutters and he hears himself gasp just once in surprise.

Then, he's kissed, right on the neck and he feels himself grin from ear to ear. He really is getting his way, here. Auron really does want him. His excitement is palpable as he tips his head and angles his shoulder to give Auron more space to kiss and bite, shuddering every time his teeth sink in. He's learned to be responsive to everything, to drag his partner's attention closer. He lets his suspenders catch on his elbows and starts to pluck off his own gloves behind Auron's neck, baring them so he can really feel his nails drag against Auron's scalp as he returns his fingertips to his hair.

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.

Tidus draws in a short, sharp breath when he feels his body pressed against the door, now stuck between Auron's large palm and the solid barrier behind his back. He like it a little more than he'd ever admit, having things turn out this way. He's too used to being in complete control and despite Auron's age, his expectations here were the same, given how reserved he always tends to be. Like some kind of reward, he sighs his name, hands being strangely obedient and avoiding his ponytail this time. He focuses on raking his hands through the hair on his scalp, mussing it on the way. A messy look suits Auron.

He tries to grasp him and lean into the kiss when their lips meet... but then, Auron parts with just a single word and Tidus ruffles. He frowns at him, reaching for a moment and missing.

"Huh? What? Hey!"

He follows, immediately, stomping his feet as he walks.

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.

He's pouting the whole way to Auron's room.... he hates coming down here, honestly. It's bad memories. He tends to stay upstairs, away from the cobwebs and the remnants of what was. When Auron isn't here, the whole floor is untouched.

When Auron sits, Tidus watches him, hands on his hips and exhibiting his peeved feelings towards having to move so many times. He's impatient but when is he not? At least Auron's starting to undress which means he might actually stay put this time.

His suspenders are still hung awkwardly over the bends in his elbows as he lifts his foot and starts tugging off his shoes. He supposes he'll be courteous in Auron's old bedroom. He keeps eyeing him as he does it, accusatory, daring him to try to move them yet again. He'll pounce on him the next time, he swears. He'll make him want to stay.

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.

"Oh, I can?"

It's a snarky response and he knows it but he wants Auron to know he's annoyed. He better be allowed to sit. They better be staying here this time!

He gets his second shoe off and crosses the room, crawling onto the bed. He gets behind him as Auron's haori sleeve slumps down, draping his arms over his shoulders to cross over his chest. He doesn't plan to let him go again, not until he's sure he'll stay put this time. He jumps right in, taking advantage of his collar-free neck and littering it with soft love bites. He pads his tongue over every remnant of teeth marks as he releases each bite and then moves onto the next. His fingers spread out over his chest, realizing quickly that Auron has an annoying amount of layers compared to himself.

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.

Auron, for now, is staying still and it slowly placates him again. A part of him misses being shoved up against that door like he was something to possess, but he'll settle for this intimacy. Auron's chest is as firm as he expected, his neck scratchier the higher up he kisses. He's clean shaven pretty much everywhere out of necessity for his sport - he's not as familiar with the feel of stubble against his skin. In a way, he likes it.

Finally, a pleased sound comes back to his lips as Auron turns, not to leave, but to hold him. He sighs, relieved, through his nose and edges himself to settle where Auron can reach him without twisting himself too far. The hand on his bare back brings immediate heat, skin crawling, delighted by it. He dares to start inching his way into his lap to sit, mouth continuing to kiss at his throat, happiness returning.

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.

Auron's sword-calloused hand is just rough enough to add a little grit to the drag of his palm against Tidus's back. He sucks in a gasp against Auron's throat, liking that contrast against his smooth skin. He's worn smooth by the water, a stone lapped over thousands of times, washed free of edges. Auron is more wind-beaten, cracked and weathered down, but still sharp where it counts. That sharpness grinds gently like curled fingernails against his spine and makes him squeeze Auron in his arms.

The familiar and distinct song of a zipper running down brings his smile back to his mouth finally. He pulls back from his throat and reaches up, ghosting his lips over Auron's, the first time he's requested instead of demanded this evening. He wants him, fully bare and less reserved, showing that he wants him in return. Showing that Tidus is worth something to the last person he has left. His chest is fluttering with heartbeats and a desire to be needed intimately and beyond the moment.

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.

The kiss satisfies and he pulls on his lips as they part before leaning close and reaching for another. Auron's lips are softer than he expected, probably untouched and more dry than anything, like a tongue has been run over them too many times from nerves. The breathy sound of contentment returns as Auron's nails scrape gently against his skin, sighed against the part in Auron's mouth.

Tidus is easy to move, sliding over Auron's thighs before settling in his lap, knees spreading naturally. He shifts close, trying not to trap Auron's arms, but seeking the comfort of his warmth. His hands dip down under the collar of his haori and he leans again, asking for a new kiss as he breathes in his scent.

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.

Their kisses feel shared now. Better, like Auron's reaching back for him, just a little. Tidus is happy to keep providing, parting his mouth and pulling him in with the curl of his lips against Auron's, tugging now and again as he maintains his gentleness. He's taken his place in his lap and he's confident he'll keep him here now if he works hard enough.

This is probably wrong to someone. Auron has been there for ten years, rolling in and out like a wave, but still watching out for him... caring for him. He's not a father, not family, but he has filled a hole which had been hollowed out by loss and people would likely frown upon the manner in which he reaches for him now. But Tidus will do what he likes, wanting everything greedily and usually getting nothing. He'll grasp at the straws within his reach and clutch Auron while he is allowed.

Hot air against his mouth wills his mouth open, more than happy to part as Auron's does as they renew their kiss. He scoots a little closer in his lap and it's not until he feels the tug on his elbows from his suspenders that he lets Auron go, arms coming down so Auron can take them off. He refuses to give up his mouth, though, still holding onto that kiss, tongue slipping out to slide against Auron's lower lip, inviting him to deepen it along with him.

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)

He doesn't expect Auron to take to his encouragement so easily, but he does and Tidus squirms shortly in delight against his thighs as he widens his mouth and allows Auron's tongue to slip past his teeth. He's pretty proud of how well he's learned to kiss in his time being a star athlete and he's even prouder to show it off to his guardian, gliding his tongue over Auron's and curving his lips to suck on it, just as gentle as his hands had been. Auron is being so cooperative and kind, undressing him without breaking away, and he needs rewarded like this.

He has no idea how to return the favor blind as Auron's clothes seem a little more... complicated than he thought. It's a shame he wears pants and layers under his haori. It'd be so much easier for him if it was simply a few knots to untie. He'll worry more about it in a moment, content with kissing and closing the distance between their bodies one move of his hips at a time for now.

His hips, now a center of focus for him with the weight of Auron's hands now there and moving lower. The touch is so careful and fond. It's not out of hunger, but affection Tidus can read. He's being studied with care and it makes his chest jump. He's sighs audibly, not ashamed at all to let Auron know he approves of the motions of those thick, rough palms.

With his top half now freed of all its cloth, his arms are his again. He lifts them and cradles Auron's face on both sides, fingers curved under his jaw. To channel that affection back, that fondness and gratitude he rarely shows, he slides his thumbs along his cheek bones and breathes his scent in through his nose before releasing his name in a soft whisper against his mouth.

Hearing his own name on the tail of those soft, fond sounds, causes a shiver to climb up his spine, offset by the warmth sitting in his stomach and the heat of of his face under deliberate fingers. His face isn't flushed with color, but perhaps Tidus can tell anyway that he has no idea what to do with the difference between what he's being offered and what he thought he'd be offered.

"Is this what you wanted?"

It doesn't need to be asked; he knows that it is. That's not why he speaks, that's not why he brings his hands back up along his thighs, wrinkling his shorts, rucked up, showing more skin. That's not why he tucks his fingers beneath his waistband and slides his shorts down to his knees. Loose and unbelted, they go easily, leaving only his skin-tight jammers as a last layer, sheer, smooth to the touch and warm under his fingers.

There's a twinge of humor to his voice, but the joke's on him. His mouth is crooked into a half-smile, his single eye lidded heavily. He should have done better. As it is, the only thing he knows how to do now is bend. So, he bends to press his mouth to the side of a graceful neck, a shoulder. Bends his fingers around muscled thighs, hips, the curve of his ass.

The heat under his palms makes him smile. It doesn't show on Auron's face, but something in him shifted the moment he spoke his name and cradled his cheeks like this. Even someone rough-edged like Auron can appreciate being handled with such affection. Tidus smiles against his parted mouth and sighs his name again, just as softly as before.

"Mmm..."

It's affirmative and lazy, the way he hums his response back. Auron probably already knows, but Tidus is more than happy to confirm things for him. His breath stutters, mentally following the hands up his thighs so he can lift his hips up when Auron tugs down his shorts, leaving a gap between them so his clothing is more cooperative. He grins, looking down between them at his bared thighs and the large hands still resting on them, weighty and firm.

"Why am I the only one near naked, huh? You shy?"

His bright, blue eyes flash with mischief as he settles his hips back down and tips his head to accept the mouth on his neck. His weight jerks forward as he dips his hips and rolls them up against Auron's lap, groaning quietly before quivering with a short bout of airy laughter.

"Where do you think your hands are going, huh? Don't you know, if you're going to touch me there, you should squeeze a little?"

Auron looks down when Tidus does, following his line of sight, their thighs crossed over one another and the small, shadowed space left between them. Tidus's jammers stick to his skin, following the contours of his swimmer's muscles, and his hands are still where he left them, distracting from the pattern of blue-on-blue. He doesn't hesitate to retaliate for that first comment, biting his shoulder where it's soft and giving, leaving a mark that won't take long to disappear. But he still lifts his head high enough to look him in the eye.

"Your hands work just as well as mine. Use them."

Tidus's accusation is halfway true. Auron has seen him in various states of undress; in locker rooms, skinny-dipping, or sun-baked days that were too hot for anything besides shorts. If it weren't for where his hands are, and what they've been doing, this might not be much different. But the way he's pressing into his hips doesn't leave any room for interpretation. There's nothing innocent about what they've done. Conversely, he's rarely dressed down in anyone's presence. His reasons have become less and less, and now here, under scrutiny, a younger part of himself hesitates.

And then there's the matter of his armor.

He deliberately keeps his grip mild.

"I don't recall saying that I accept instructions."

The bite might have been intended as some kind of punishment but, aside from the pinch, he enjoys it. He makes it clear in the way he moans suddenly and flinches his hips, fingers curling into brief fists. He holds his breath before sighing it out again, turning his head to glance at Auron, almost pouting.

"If I can figure this thing out."

It's a short complaint, something to be tossed aside by anyone who knows how stubborn Tidus is when he puts his mind to something. It's going to have to take some fussing, but if he's determined to get the armor off of him, he will. He gives Auron's shoulder a short pat before sliding his hands down his sides, feeling the gap between his arms and his ribs. He assumes there's no opening from the back and seeks out latches or tethers at his sides. It takes him... a short while, tugging at everything before something gives and he can feel its binding open.

He exclaims quickly in victory and grins anew, moving his hand up his side to eagerly work the rest of the fastenings free.

"Then you'd better act with more determination."

Auron doesn't bother questioning Tidus, and he doesn't instruct him when he feels his curious fingers probing at his sides. They only stop searching once they've touched the bindings holding his armor in place. He allows him to unfasten it without any aid, following his smile with his eye; following the patterns on the last little bit of clothing covering his body with his fingers; his hips don't rise to meet the hips weighing his down, but he travels the hem of his jammers like a path around his waist.

The joint of his little finger brushes against lean stomach before he takes the elastic between his fingers and pulls it taut between his legs.

"I wonder."

If he told him he already was...

But he won't.

"How do I get it off of you?" he grumbles, moving his hands up to his shoulder to find the last tether there and free it. "Give me a hand. You can put your hand back on my ass after."

He can't help continuing to jab at him a little for it. It's such a bold move for a cold guy like Auron, he's tickled by it.

But Auron's fingers have found their way to his waistband, pulling it, apparently threatening to tug it away. It's still unfair. Auron's almost fully clothed! But... he won't protest being stripped bare. He lifts his weight again, laughing a little, smile ever present.

"Well... okay, do that first."