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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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."

Auron looks down like he's looking for something before meeting his eyes, pushing his fingers beneath his waistband, and then abruptly taking his hands from his body and leaning away; he needs the room to get his own clothes off, helping like he was asked to only because Tidus already took back his request. With the fastenings untied, it's just a matter of pulling away the plates of hardened leather and setting them on the floor with the rest of his things.

The movement brings him close again, one hand palm-down over the flat space above Tidus's tailbone so that he doesn't lose his balance when he's forced to lean backwards to accommodate.

They're nearly even.

"Satisfied?"

There's a brief elation... then a drop as Auron's fingers shove under his waistband, sliding past sensitive skin, before pulling back. Well, at least he's doing his first request for him, but now he has an ache to be naked - not because he wants to be naked first, but because he wants to feel Auron pull off that last piece of clothing separating Auron from having no choice but to touch skin.

He'll settle for watching Auron strip away his armor for him, finally, and feeling his warm, bare chest press up against his own as he's nearly dipped over. The sensation stirs his stomach with fluttering and his arms drape around Auron's shoulders again, holding on tight.

"Yeah, for now."

It takes no convincing for him to go with the suggestion of Tidus's movement, arms circling around his waist; he pulls him in, so they're fitted chest to chest and stomach to stomach, where he can feel his breathing and the quick beating of his heart under his breastbone. Auron bows with the intention of returning his mouth to the side of his throat, but stops halfway to his destination, forehead weighing against his shoulder.

For now.

He doesn't have to ask how long it will last.

He expects the bite, anticipates it... but it doesn't come. Instead, the soft weigh of Auron's forehead settles on his shoulder. He can feel the frown lines of his forehead furrowed against his bare skin. He looks at him, almost concerned.

Did he really embarrass him this time? How can he be upset when they're pressed so close together? It's so warm... so nice.

Tidus lets his grip go gentle and lifts a hand up, resting a hand on the back of Auron's head before running it down the back of his neck, over the tie of his ponytail. He starts stroking his hair with a definitive fondness, tilting his head to rest his cheek against Auron's temple.

"It feels really good, Auron."

His shoulders shake with suppressed laughter, soft, and fond, and brief. He's laughing at himself, or he's finally rediscovered the humor in the situation. How long has he been in Zanarkand? How much longer is he going to be? Somehow he was envisioning a future where he wasn't needed any longer, or at least one where the needing was less — because any future is inevitably going to contain his absence — and then he's confronted abruptly on the deck of the houseboat that isn't his and his own grasp on the situation's slipped, just that much.

It wouldn't be the first time he was wrong.

"I know." Auron says, smile audible. But, like all of his smiles, there's a hollowness at its center. Something that he, even with all his practiced feigning, can't pretend away.

He squeezes Tidus's sides under his worn hands, feeling over the tract of all that bare, warm skin, without moving from where his hand's in his hair, gently placating. It's something he's trying to say without saying. He has enough experience with these things to know. He has enough experience with these things not to question it.

Instead, after the moment's gone on long enough, he curls his hands around Tidus's upper arms and pulls him along with him when he lies back.

Ah, now he's laughing. It's that laugh of his that's a little mocking, a little hollow. A laugh that holds no joy, but a laugh all the same. It means he's at least okay, not too rustled by Tidus. There's some variables here even HE isn't prepared for, so he's just a little bit wary.

Auron might not know it clearly, but Tidus needs him. Auron is all he has and all he will have for a while. He can't predict his future in Spira and the friends and family he will make there. He can only see what's in front of him and that narrow, close future is Auron and Auron only. Some passing faces, teammates that pat him on the back, he can't deny their existence, but Auron's the closest thing he has, as far as he can see. That's why he's here, grasping him greedily, holding onto a future with some comfort and light. A future where Tidus is important, not just Tidus the Blitzball Champ.

He feels the smile pressed against his skin and he pushes his cheek against his temple more firmly, half turned so his lips are brushed against his hair. His hands squeeze and Tidus sighs and sinks further into him, happy to have the mood return so quickly. He stays still and revels in being held so closely for as long as it lasts.

Then, Auron moves and grasps his arms. With no protest, he follows him down, settling on top of him. He slides up him enough to stay nose to nose with him, smiling with his eyes as he shares a gaze with him, just soaking in the moment.

Auron's grown accustomed to having very little; from the time he served in Bevelle to setting foot in Zanarkand, Sin receding behind him like a tidal wave in reverse, the most he's ever been able to call his own was a long pilgrimage gone too quickly. He should have been able to stop it. It should have ended on his terms. But that wasn't his part to play, and his story is not a story about absolution, recovery, or hard-earned second chances. Tidus's story is just beginning; it may never begin.

Ending or beginning, ended or never started; there might not be any perceptible difference between the two from where they're standing. Everything that's really his is untouchable. Not hidden away, protected, but as an apparition. Already gone.

Their noses bump when he kisses the corner of his mouth.

It's enough to be here. It's enough to be able to do anything. His hands find Tidus's hips again, then curve lower, pressing their bodies together from the hips down. A flush of heat uncurls from low in his stomach, spreading to his chest, his thighs, the tips of his fingers. He's been stingy with how he's been touching him. It comes from a contradiction that he still hasn't solved.

But he can move, regardless.

If Tidus knew how far from Auron's grasp he actually was, he might not have put him through this whole ordeal. As far as he knows, Auron's close at hand and so is he. They are close enough to kiss, to touch, to lay in each other for a while and enjoy it. If he knew, someday, they would slip through each other's fingers and fall from the hands that will come to grasp them both, he would never turn his cheek and lean, chuckling at their knocked noses and kissing him sweetly.

He would never. It would seem incredibly cruel.

A teenager can barely see past tomorrow and his immediate future lies in the way Auron's long arm skirt down his body and push his hips down under their weight. He can feel the way Auron's body tightens when their stomachs press taut together. He shifts his weight and rolls his hips down, grinding them together once at the hips. Auron still has his pants and he is still in his jammers, but they still feel closer now. Much closer than before.

Auron makes a sound of satisfaction at the drag of Tidus's weight over his hips, perhaps the first sign that he's enjoying this for what it is. Yielding to clever hands and a willing body. Two years, give or take, and they'll both be gone. If Auron knew that, he wouldn't have agreed to this either. But even with everything he's learned, he can't actually imagine any future that isn't more of the same burning sun rising over the flat sea and settling between impossibly tall, brightly-lit buildings.

Never-ending. Just because he escaped death, much the way the city itself did so long ago, doesn't mean that the same logic applies to him. But he has a choice while the city has none. Sometimes it almost seems as though he has more choices now than he had in life. And if that isn't miserable...

Auron raises his hips, lifting them both off the of bed with a creak, back bending in a strong, subtle arch. They persist in being clothed from the waist down, but there's not much left to hide. He squeezes his hands like he's suddenly remembered what Tidus told him to do, then ventures a step further, sneaking his fingers between parted thighs. His skin's so hot to the touch that the only evidence of the thin fabric is the weave of the thread he can feel under his fingertips.

The sound of Auron letting loose, just a bit, and enjoying himself feels better in his ears and on his spine than he thought. His skin crawls and he sighs, audible and pleased. Most of his partners are already eager. They grab at him and sigh and chatter. They are moaners and screamers and have nails that bite and dig in allbeit pleasant ways but they are not in any way holding back when their bodies meet. For them, it might very well be a one chance encounter and they need to take advantage of things and make the most of their night with someone they admire from a distance.

Auron's deliberate touches and the way he moves so slow and lax, like a large cat pawing at something with interest, covers him with a subtle warmth and pleasurable sensations that crawl down his nerves rather than jumping or spiking through him.

He hears the springs creak before he realizes their weight has lifted from the bed. That flash of teeth, it comes back when he realizes Auron has returned his action in kind. His hands have sneaked low, touched the sensitive skin resting between his thighs. He makes a sound in his throat, a near-rumble, and shifts himself up enough to push his weight down again, trying to copy the deliberate way Auron is attending to him, and slides their bodies together.

It's a little too easy, but it's meant to be, isn't it? Neither of them are very good at listening to their betters, but this kind of cooperative movement — the simplest kind of give and take — comes naturally, regardless of their unnatural circumstances or the unnatural happenstance that brought them both here. Auron's loathe to think about it, but when isn't he thinking about it? Even with the weight of another body on top of his...

That's why he's never sought the people in this city. One reason, anyway. It would do him little good.

Auron's neck bends with the rest of his body and he blinks his eye shut. There isn't enough room to reach between them, bodies folded flush together, so he works with his hands where they are; presses his palms up and down the tender insides of the thighs spread astride his hips, before lastly pulling at the fabric still clinging close to his skin. He stops once it's halfway off of his hips.

Tidus understands that if he's being touched, he should touch in return. This does come naturally between them, more naturally than their conversations, and it's easy to ebb and flow with Auron as he does with the tide. Tidus is a communicator and he speaks as much with his body as he does with his mouth, so he's always confident he's getting his message straight across. When he pushes his shoulders back, he knows Auron will let him sit up. When he rocks his hips again, he knows Auron will give more attention to his thighs.

With his body half-propped, parting from the warmth of him with some disappointment, he can see his chest. He's scarred even there. He's got hair on him where Tidus is smooth from upkeep. He can run his hands over it and feel the way it tickles his fingers. He responds with parted lips every time Auron's fingers dip a little lower and he runs his fingers a little harder over his chest in kind, brushing over his collar bone and sternum with just the tips of his nails. He wants his touches to be just as tender and planned. He's concentrating.

Even though they're cooperating — keeping up with each other — his eye flutters open when he feels the hands on his chest. Whatever he expected that movement to mean, it wasn't more attention angled in his direction. He would be fine without it. He could say this. But he knows, all the same, that that's not what this is about.

He knows Tidus isn't thinking ahead. They're not the kinds of people who do.

He's the kind of person who grabs his thighs where they're still under his hands to press his hips down while he pushes up smoothly with his own, still no more insistent, but his grip is getting tighter.

"Lift your hips."

Belatedly, he loosens his hands so he can.

Either way, Tidus gets exactly what he wants and groans as their bodies roll together again. Auron's hips are wider than his own and press so firm and full up against his own. He hopes he feels how hard he's gotten. He hopes he can tell how much he's enjoying even these slow, simple movements together.

But Tidus isn't thinking ahead and it's not until he's addressed that he stops pawing at Auron's chest and uses his palms to brace instead. He doesn't want his legs released, but he'll do it if it means Auron's planning to strip them both more bare. He lifts his hips up, strangely obedient, and laughs softly again.

"Who's giving orders now? .... Need any help with them?"

"It wasn't an order."

It could've been. But he doesn't have to listen to Auron, whatever his preference is. He doesn't address his offer for help. Instead, his hands go to his waistband, finally impatient enough to hook his thumbs beneath the elastic and peel it off without anymore half-measures, at least until his jammers get trapped around his thighs, spread legs impeding his progress. But he isn't covered anymore, and he tugs him down again, cock hot and heavy where it falls against his stomach.

One of his hands rests on his thigh, but the other strays back to his lithe waist, the bend of his knuckles dipping into his navel. It's deliberate when he keeps from touching him any lower, and he watches his face while he advances, brushing his bare hips instead, his tailbone.

Even though he's moved, Tidus's weight is still bearing down on his hips. The proof that this isn't one-sided is trapped underneath the curve of his ass. He's only surprised he hasn't said anything about it yet.

He's fine with that. Which, of course, means that it won't last.

It's hard to stay still when his last bit of clothing is finally being dragged off his hips, but he manages to keep himself steady. He looks down, watching his jammers slip down as far as his thighs and catch where their bodies meet. Hands reach behind him again and push their bodies back together. He shudders as his cock lands on Auron's warm stomach. This is as skin to skin as they've been so far. His heart is pounding in his ears, suddenly far more excited than he had been a moment ago.

That stillness fades away as Auron's hands crawl over him again, almost coy in their placement just inches from his most sensitive spots. His stomach tightens under the firm knuckles pressing against his belly and his back curves as his fingertips brush against his tailbone. He lets his hips rock down and, with his body nearly bare now, he really takes note of the bulge of flesh pushing up against his ass, still hidden away in Auron's pants.

He looks downright puckish as he glances up at Auron and slides one palm down to the hem of his pants, tugging it.

"I can feel it, you know? You like looking at me this way?" he asks, tone playful and smooth as he pushes his weight down against him again and lets out a soft moan.

"It's pretty big. I can tell... you can let it out, if you want. I wanna see it. It's only fair, now that you can see me, right? Can't do much to me with it put away like this, anyway, can you?"

Edited 2015-06-11 23:38 (UTC)

"Yes."

It's matter-of-fact as the same time as it's teasing; whether Tidus is trying to find somewhere tender to poke his fingers or if he's just being honest, he can't think of a better answer than the real one. He has a fair idea of what he likes, although he doesn't think on it much, and golden skin and a muscular swimmer's build is among those things. So is, apparently, bleach-blonde hair and a wicked grin.

Nothing that Tidus says stops Auron from continuing to avoid the places that he knows he wants him to touch; the hand on his thigh snakes upward, fingers spreading, and he brushes upward along the little valleys the muscles in his chest make with his fingertips until they're placed firmly against the flat hardness of his sternum. What he usually wears is revealing enough that he isn't seeing anything new, but he knows if he shared that particular information Tidus would put two and two together and realize that he started looking before today.

He can feel the vibration of his vocal cords through the bones in his upper chest when he speaks. It should be calming, but really, it's just — He raises one eyebrow in a severe line, adam's apple visible when he swallows, not-so-subtly glancing down the length of their bodies. If he were seven years younger, he'd be a sputtering mess. Thankfully, he isn't. But it doesn't keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

"What do you want me to do?"

His good sense tells him he shouldn't ask, but he isn't very good at listening.