It was by no means the first kiss either had dealt, let alone to the other, but this one held that legendary spark of magic to it. There was no outside fear or inward denial in this kiss, merely the two drinking deeply from the other and the rest of the world melting away invisibly.
Seymour was vaguely conscious of this and wondered what had changed between them. Was it him, with all walls felled and all dams broken but with something to cling to as the deluge of alien feelings and sensations settled, while before he had mistaken reaching out through broken holes and peering through keyholes was the same? Or was it because she had realized her ideal was a dream of children, that the world always wishes to put itself right and that is what the order of the universe intends, rather than consequences not considered would turn out for the worse and all involved would be victims?
Was it just perhaps that lust had been admitted and accepted by both parties, and this was what it felt like to include it as a warm, generous, beneficial part of life and love?
Whatever the answer was, if there was one, he never came to it, or close to it. He was reminded exactly why he had hidden lust away and barred the door to it’s hiding place as Yuna brushed a small hand over his chest.
He shivered and pulled back from the kiss, breaking the spell that his away the rest of the world. There was no way forward from here without questions and uncertainties. There was no staying here, and there was certainly no going back.
What to think, how to act, what to ask… As much as she had chased away his doubts and fears, there still remained the unspoken awkwardness of age and experience, one he felt he had too much, the other he felt he had too little.
Yuna had come this far, as much as she deceived, she wouldn’t about face after going this far, being this adamant. They were only real problems if she saw them, and if they were, it was time she showed that warm all-loving expertise everyone else spoke of. For now, they were merely a pause, an awkward silence, a waiting.
He never ha to voice his words of ‘what now?’ because now she understood. Even without walls and locks, there was still darkness. That which he had always wanted since they had met, but he didn’t even know became obvious. He had no light, and he longed for hers to chase away the shadows, to stop stumbling in the dark and no longer remain blind.
She took the blanket from his shoulders, unveiling his features to the dawn’s light, and flapped it to catch the light breeze, spreading it clumsily on the sand behind him.
"Lie down," she whispered, taking the edges of her shirt and lifting it over her head.
He complied, his eyes on her and her now bare chest. He backed away onto the blanket, watching and wanting.
"Don’t be afraid, she whispered, as she trailed her hand over the curves and angles of his chest. Her hands glided over and past the stretch marks he’d always shown off. She’d never asked him about them and only now did she find herself close enough to become curious about them. But she let the question wait for another time.
Her words had been more warning than consolation, she realized, as her hands slid along his long waist, and onto his hips.
There was an obvious eagerness in his body, and a hunger in his eyes, but past that, he wanted to know if she’d go all the way, if here promises were chaste or cut short in the name of taste. If so… how far was all the way? It wasn’t rejection he didn’t know, but her being kept from quenching her own thirst because she found him inadequate.
She put one hand on the middle of his chest, to hold him down, expectant of his immediate shocked reaction to her other hand undoing his shorts—the only clothing he’d had for the last two days and now it was being shed.
She pushed him back down onto the blanket, then whit both hands divested him of the last barrier between them.
Gently taking hold of him, she lowered her face to him and before his frightened and unknowing mid could protest in fear or reservation, her lips, then her mouth here upon him and whatever he has to say to stop or pause her had turned to a short scream of excitement and surprise.
She bobbed her head up and down, tantalizing him as she moved as if savoring a large candy. She could taste his sweat from the previous days he’d lingered to escape her and her companions, taste the light touch the ocean had left on him, taste his excitement as it continued to trickle into her mouth and on her awaiting, dancing tongue.
Meanwhile, upon the receiving end, Seymour was scratching and scrambling at the sand and blanket, sensations he'’ never known existed shooting through his whole body and all of it wanting more. He was struggling to get noises beyond his novice panting, his moans exiting his mouth as strange whimpers of pleasure and all he could manage as pleas of the act not to be a dream or a nightmare.
It was over all too soon, but only in comparison of normality. Denied for every horrible self-depreciating reason he knew, he was hardly in the shape to last, especially after being wracked by his own inner storm of released emotions before release of physical pleasure and form.
Yuna, meanwhile, had removed her lips from his flesh. Though willing to cause the release, she did not want the results on her face.
Panting furiously and waiting for the stars in his vision to twinkle out and die; he gently took her hand and pulled her down next to him.
"Show me," he whispered, the palm of his long hand on her cheek chastely despite it all, everything, the last few minutes, hours, days, weeks of trying to become this close and fleeing from it in fear of another’s unhappiness. His fingers laced through her hair, wishing to grip it, pull it towards him and inhale her scent, but no, he had no power here and it was not his to try to use it; he was supplicant and follower, as his words had meant. His lips ached to meet hers, touch them, shivered at the thought of tasting them, delving between them, even in his amateurish ways he longed for the feel of his tongue on hers.
She took his hand from her cheek and led it down her side, along her waist, past her hips and into her shorts, revealing to his fingers the cleft between her legs.
He pressed his lips to those of her mouth as he pressed his fingers to those of her cunt, testing her reactions as he dragged both tongue and tip along the soft edges.
He felt her body shudder under his touch and would have ceased entirely, had she not pressed closer, not inviting, but pleading to take in—in—more.
He delved further, pushing his fingers into her, finding her warm and wet as he’d heard and read, but much more, he found the feeling indescribably pleasurable. He pressed his own tongue in between her lips, neither action daring very far.
He concentrated more on the noise she made every movement he made than where her hands went, and so was surprised when she pushed his hand in deeper, but pushed his face from her own.
He didn’t protest, so long as he was instructed, rather than punished for whatever actions he did wrong, he would abide.
She lowered his head and pressed his face against her chest and he understood her message. He was naïve. He was innocent. But he was neither stupid nor ignorant. He tentatively let his tongue astray from his mouth and licked the tip of the closest nipple. She shivered in response and her pressed closer, taking the entirety of it in his mouth and sucking slightly, meanwhile his fingers delved within her, searching for whatever and wherever he could please her the most.
She let out a yelp, and shuddered violently as his fingers found a small pearl of flesh.
Then, to her surprise, he pulled his hand out and took his mouth away, leaving her clit untouched and her nipple bare to the open air.
He took down her shorts, and untied the rope around her waist.
His hands took her under the shoulders and propped her up. He put his face between her legs and held her as he ventured the same curious route he’d taken before with his tongue.
He’d barely touched her, barely attempted anything and she let out another cry of surprised elation. He repositioned his hands to hold her as she arched her back.
As she leaned backwards, she opened her legs, giving him access to the one thing he was searching for.
He pressed closer, held her tighter, and took the tiny nub of her clit into his mouth and sucked just as he had her aching nipple.
Her cries became louder and began blending together, one never quite ended before the next began.
She grabbed him by the hair, digging her nails into his scalp and pulling at the blue strands. Finally, pain for reward. He wondered if she knew, if she understood, because something new suddenly dawned on him. He needed pain. His whole life had revolved around pain, at times, had been nothing but pain. He couldn’t separate himself from it. He needed it. Being keep from it, he grew wary, fearing he’d only wandered into the eye of the storm, or searching for the rumbling of the imminent wave that was to crash upon him. He needed it, and her small action had granted it, and all had come full circle and now it was pleasure he could focus on.
She dug deeper and pulled, not toward, but away from her legs and all he did was meet her eyes. As she began to push him back, he feared he had done something wrong, but complied, nonetheless.
She pushed him onto his back again, and mounted him.
She thrust on him, trying to push him deeper in her, but it was more than merely the giving and taking of fluid, the complement and satisfaction of natural urges.
As much as hard been spilled and still was being spilled, and would be spilled again, as much as they were now covered in slime and sand, it was an act of pure beauty for the two of them.
It was a sensation beyond pleasure, it was the melding of two souls, two hearts. It was what he had always feared, not more doors or locks or walls and so entirely exposes as to show every want and desire and vulnerability, and yet it was what he wanted. It was darkness, his darkness that he’d so been lost in, and her light, having searched so long for someone to shine upon and reveal hidden goodness lying in the shadows.
It was an eclipse, slowly the two came closer and closer together, and for one moment, time stopped and the world seemed focused purely on the blinding spectacle.
Seymour could feel himself drawing close; he’d climax soon and it’d be done, their eclipse, their celestial dance of lust. He wrapped his arms around Yuna tightly. Not yet, he didn’t want it to end, at least not until Yuna wanted it to. It was so intense, it was becoming another rewarding pain, but still pain.
He refused to ask Yuna to cease as she rammed against him, over and over. He was careful with his hands not to induce harm, to squeeze too hard or to spear her with his nails. Not because he feared to break her like a fragile doll. No, she wasn’t that. She wasn’t breakable, not from him. She was the leader, he was supplicant to her every whim, to take him where she wished, good or bad, in this. He wouldn’t ask, and he would follow. It was not his to induce, it was not his role to lead, he was the only to receive pain, not her. Not, she’d remain unscarred. That wasn’t in the rules of either’s wishes.
His moments of ache were short and greatly rewarded.
He could tell by her moans, as they reached a higher pitch to a small shriek, and by the sudden flood on his hips, relieved to let loose himself.
He held her still as she pulled herself off of him. She was so happy she was glowing with it. She was radiant and smiling at him, and he had given it to her, it was because of him. He had managed to chase away someone misery, he had given her something beautiful.
It was just after dawn, the sun was beginning it’s climb up the sky, but they both just lay there and watched each other, soon the silence dissolved into a discussion of questions, most random and even more insignificant. But there has been too much unspoken and unknown between them, and they had all the time in the world, and each other, and they wanted nothing to get between them again.
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They would have to go back to the village eventually. One craving satisfied, another came to replace it in time. They had to fill their stomachs and they realized they could not necessarily sneak into the village.
Indeed, the village wasn’t within sight yet and they could hear members of the Blitzball team calling Yuna’s name.
No one called for Seymour.
They were surprised, not that Yuna had wandered back in her underwear, but that she was bringing a rather content—and even more innocent-looking—Seymour with her.
Holding his hand as she had done for the rest of their stroll back to the village, they walked past the speechless team and into the bewildered village.
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The villagers weren't sure what to think. At the first mention that Yuna and Seymour were hungry, people rushed out with what food they had, happy to have Yuna back. But Seymour… he had proved himself strange, but what to think of him?
He was more than someone who had wed their summoner. It wasn’t out of politics, that much had been berated at them by Rikku that it was Yuna’s decision.
Nothing had been lit on fire and no one was harmed, him included. His leaving, and proposal to leave permanently had disturbed Yuna, their precious Yuna, greatly, and now she was back to giggling and chatting as they sat on the ground, munching on bread and fruit.
What to think?
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There was the usual bonfire that night, in the usual place. Wakka and Lulu sat apart, as had become usual since the death of her child and the return of his brother.
Rikku, after the threat to her holding him down and Paine doing it, was meticulously applying cream to where he’d been burnt by the sun while in hiding. He behaved himself, though he was constantly batting her off his ears and tattoos and everything else the Al Behd found ‘strange’ about a semi-Guado.
Why she kept talking to him about puppies was beyond him.
As she tended to the sore spots, he couldn’t help feel as if he were being pecked at like an all too eager vulture.
Yuna announced that it was time for them to go home, and that they were leaving the next day, boat or not.
Seymour didn’t express disappointment. He wasn’t sure where he felt safer, but he knew that wherever he was he’d be and feel safest with Yuna. He almost felt disappointment at the notion of leaving the island; he was just now beginning to like Beseid.