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Title:"Tumultuous"
Due to fanfiction.net's policy on NC-17 material, this story has been censored. Summary: A storm. Smut. Angst. Blitzballs. Hot tubs. Some other stuff. Author's Notes: Once again posting a chopped version of a story. The full NC-17 version can be found at http://armadillo.yaoiville.org/ It might interest a few of you to know I'm currently working on a sequel to this. However, seeing as it's a typical Armadillo smut-fest, it won't be seen here on fanfiction.net. "Tumultuous"
Zanarkand was a pleasant city, Auron reflected, almost idyllic, but not during the summer storm season. He braced himself as another huge wave crashed, tossing the small houseboat like a toy. "The storm's getting worse!" Tidus shouted, struggling to be heard over the roar of wind and thunder. Auron barely made out the words, and nodded his reply, not bothering to speak. The next wave struck, and he lurched a step forward, fighting for balance as the houseboat dipped nearly twenty degrees with an ominous shudder. At this rate, the storm surge would swamp the boat and crush it against the Zanarkand docks. "The moorings!" Recognizing the problem at the same time he had, Tidus was already making his way unsteadily to the panel that controlled the little boat's functions. With the moorings loosed, the boat would be free to ride the waves instead of being dragged under the rising surf. They might still wind up broken over the docks, but with any luck the storm would carry them out to sea. Tidus punched a control, did it again, then slammed the panel with his fist. "It's stuck!" Auron leaned close to the young man's ear. "We'll have to cut the line!" Tidus nodded, and Auron led the way to the deck. As soon as the door was unlatched, the wind tore it from Auron's grasp. They both flinched as a torrent of wind and water buffeted them. The storm had seemed fierce from within the relative safety of the cabin, but now it howled around them in raw fury. Already drenched to the bone, Auron blinked seawater out of his eyes and unsheathed his katana. Speech was impossible. Auron pointed to himself, and then at the aft quarter of the ship, where the mooring line lay. Tidus nodded his understanding. The few yards to the mooring seemed like miles. The deck bucked and shuddered under Auron's feet, and waves were already breaking over the top railing, the water pulling at his legs with eager savagery. Simply breathing was difficult, every lungful of air filled with spray. Auron choked and sputtered and made his way aft, katana held at the ready. He reached the mooring and would have cursed if he'd had the breath to do it with. He'd forgotten that the line attached to the ship was a good two feet below the railing's level. Auron shrugged his left arm free of his coat and grabbed the railing, then leaned over and struck at the line with his right. The angle was awkward and unwieldy, and his first blow glanced off the line. Auron shook spray from his eyes and struck again, more carefully. The line sang, a deep note that Auron felt in his hands, the sound lost to the storm. He struck again, and again, and finally the line snapped free. Before Auron could appreciate his success, the next wave struck. A wall of water rose up and inundated him, yanking him free of the railing. Auron struggled and flailed, his warrior's instincts to hold onto his sword doing him no good at all when he should have used every limb for swimming. The wave receded, dragging him with it into the seething black tumult. Auron fought to remain conscious as long as possible, his lungs burning with the need for air. He swam for the surface, then realized he had no idea which direction that was. The currents tumbled him like a rag doll, disorienting him, and all around lay darkness. When his breath ran out, Auron finally surrendered to it. "Auron!" From the safety of the hatchway, Tidus had watched the wave pick up the older man and wash him overboard. Without thinking, Tidus sprinted for the railing and dove over, into the storm-tossed sea. It was too dark to see, and the currents were murder, but Tidus dove and searched anyway, hoping to catch some glimpse of red. He dove until even his blitzer's lungs burned, and kept on searching. There was no sign of Auron at all. The waves had swallowed him up with a terrible finality. Tidus felt himself beginning to panic. What if it was too late? What if Auron had drowned? Tidus shook his head violently and kept looking. He could do this. He wasn't the star player of the Zanarkand Abes for nothing. As if fate had rewarded his resolve, Tidus spied a glint of something out of the corner of his eye. Auron's sword. He kicked like a fish and shot toward the glint. Yes, Auron's sword, with Auron attached to it, limp and sinking slowly. Tidus got his arm around the older man, stopping his plunge into the depths. Auron seemed unresponsive and very close to drowning, if he wasn't there already. He needed air, and quickly. Tidus turned Auron around, fighting the currents and the man's own limp body. Taking Auron's head in his hands, Tidus called on the blitzer's trick he'd inherited from his father, pulling water into his lungs and converting it to air. This air he then transferred to Auron by fastening his lips to the older man's and exhaling carefully. Bubbles rose around them, tickling their cheeks before dancing upward for the surface. A second breath, and the figure in Tidus' arms moved feebly, and lips flexed under his own. Relief flooded Tidus with new strength. He pulled away and was glad to see Auron watching him, his eye unfocused and barely tracking. Tidus kicked for the surface, towing the semi-conscious man with him. It would be a struggle to get them both back onto the boat. Naked and dry, Auron weighed a ton. With waterlogged clothes and still clutching his damned sword, he weighed two. As they broke the surface and Tidus heard the ragged gasping next to his ear, he didn't care. He whipped his hair back from his face and laughed at the thunder. Auron woke to sunlight and the cry of gulls. His chest and lungs ached, and he felt as if he'd taken a beating from some large and ill-tempered fiend, but seemed otherwise intact. He lay dressed in loose trousers and nothing else, blankets pulled up to his shoulders and soft against his skin. He was warm and dry and in familiar surroundings: one of the narrow fold-away bunks in the houseboat's main living area. The only problem was that Auron couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. On the whole it seemed a minor mystery, one best solved later. Auron closed his eye and let his tired body pull him down into sleep. Auron roused a second time, feeling marginally more energetic. He groaned and managed to sit up, though the effort decided him against standing unless it was an absolute necessity. "Hey, you're awake." Tidus stuck his head outside the tiny galley and grinned. He crossed the living space to Auron's bunk, carrying with him a cup of something warm and fragrant, which he offered to Auron. "Here, drink this." Auron took the proffered cup and drank, tasting potion-laced tea. He swallowed gratefully, the warm liquid soothing to his abused throat. Thus fortified, he felt capable of asking questions. The slant of sunlight told him it was late afternoon, but he had no idea what day it was. "How long was I out?" "Most of the day. The storm blew itself out around dawn. We drifted pretty far out to sea, but we'll be back in Zanarkand before nightfall." The storm. Auron began to remember now: black water and a strong arm around him, the blessed solidity of the deck against his cheek and the smell of damp wood. Another memory started to surface -- lips pressed to his own, breathing sweet air into his lungs. Auron raised his hand to his lips without thinking, absorbed in the recollection. "Um." Tidus was watching him, a faint blush spreading across his cheekbones. Auron dropped his hand. "I guess I'll let you rest some more. Unless you're hungry? There's soup." Tidus had learned to be a fairly competent cook, but Auron didn't have the strength to tackle anything more complicated than the tea. "Perhaps later." "Okay. Take it easy, then." For an instant Tidus looked as if he were about to pat his shoulder, then seemed to think better of it. Auron lay back and closed his eye. "Tidus." It needed to be said. "Huh?" "Thank you. For rescuing me." "Oh. Uh... you're welcome." The hand appeared on his shoulder, a brief touch. "Sleep well, Auron." He did. In the days that followed, Auron and Zanarkand both worked to recover from the ordeal of the storm. The docks were a shambles. Machina swarmed over the ruined slips, looking oddly insectile to Auron's Spiran-bred eyes as they extruded fast-set and other building materials like paper-wasps rebuilding a hive. Auron and Tidus found an alternate mooring for the houseboat and retreated to the Zanarkand apartment that had once been the Jecht family home. Technically it was still Tidus' home, but the houseboat had always been the boy's preferred territory. He had more or less taken it over as his private residence once Auron had deemed him mature enough to fend for himself. Auron recovered almost as quickly as the docks, though he was startled to realize how much strength his near-drowning had sapped from him. He tired as easily as the old man he resembled. He'd been affected in other ways as well. The endless minutes underwater replayed themselves in his memory, so vivid that Auron could actually feel the chill water and the sense of crushing suffocation. The memories even followed him into sleep, intruding on his dreams. In order to regain his lost stamina, Auron spent hours on the deck of the houseboat, hacking at straw fiends with his katana. Tidus practiced his blitz shots nearby in the bay, the ball sometimes arcing over the deck or impacting the hull. As he trained, Auron found himself preoccupied with one memory in particular: the feel of Tidus' lips on his, breathing life into his desperate body. Auron wasn't at all certain that he could die, given his nature. Still, if it were possible, Tidus had surely saved him. The moment he'd drawn breath from Tidus had been unlike anything Auron had ever experienced. Electric, vibrant, as if he'd pulled life itself into his lungs. The boy's lips had been soft and cool at first, but they'd warmed quickly against his own. Auron pulled himself from the recollection, ignoring his visceral response to the memory. The shock of Tidus' lips had merely been the exhilaration of survival, nothing more. His current feelings consisted of relief and gratitude. That was all. He certainly didn't want a repeat performance. Absolutely not. Auron was doing it again. Tidus watched as Auron paused in his training routine, naked to the waist as a concession to the summer heat. Like everyone did, the older man had his own repertoire of trademark gestures. He tended to scratch the base of his throat when he was uncomfortable, and Tidus had long resigned himself to the man's annoying habit of holding conversations with his back turned. But ever since the storm, Auron had developed a new habit. He would stop whatever he was doing and stare off into space, as if lost in thought. And then his fingers would come up, and brush across his lips. It was driving Tidus crazy. At the time, Tidus had been thinking only of keeping Auron alive. But every time Auron stopped and touched his lips, Tidus found himself imagining that transfer of air during the storm as... a kiss. It was useless, and stupid besides. Auron would never, under any circumstances, kiss him. Not even a peck on the cheek. Tidus knew from experience. A couple of years ago, when his feelings for Auron had been in the process of changing from filial affection to something more complicated, he'd tried to get closer to the man, with dismal results. Auron seemed to hate physical contact. He would comfort Tidus with a hand on his shoulder when he was upset, but that was all. Once in a while Tidus had pounced on Auron and managed to steal a hug, but he'd given up once he saw how uncomfortable he made the other man. Since then Tidus had figured out a lot about his sexuality, with the help of one or two young men willing to be swayed by the charms of a star blitzball player. It had been an enjoyable education all around. And Auron had remained as unattainable as ever. And there he was, doing it again. Tidus pushed off from the wall and stomped down the stairs into the main cabin. If Auron caught him drooling, he'd never take so much as the collar off, ever again. Tidus tried and failed to push the image of Auron touching his lips from his thoughts. It was such an unconsciously sensual gesture, just a light grazing of flesh to flesh. Tidus brought his hand to his mouth. Yes, that was how it must have felt to Auron. Tidus dropped his hand and kicked at the staircase in frustration. It made him want so much. It wasn't fair. "You're doing it again." Auron pulled himself back to awareness. The picture window presented a view of Zanarkand's skyline. He'd been miles away. "What?" "Your lips," Tidus accused. "You keep touching them." Was he? He was. Auron dropped his hand to his side, ducking his head into his collar to conceal his sudden discomfort. "What were you thinking about?" "It's none of your business." Auron walked away before the flush spreading up from his neck became visible. Tidus kicked the blitzball against the mast of the houseboat over and over, each blow more angry than the last. All his confrontation had done was to make Auron self-conscious. Now whenever the other man caught himself raising his hand toward his mouth, he lowered it again with a vaguely guilty air. Tidus cursed under his breath. All right, it had been driving him crazy, but at least it had been something. He could watch Auron touch his lips and imagine that the older man was thinking about him. About kissing him, since it was his own fantasy, and could be whatever he liked. Now he didn't even have that. Darkness. Cold. Lips touching his, a tingling shock he felt all the way to the soles of his feet. Auron woke with a start, his body still tingling from the dream, every nerve sensitized. Denial was quickly becoming an unrealistic option. His heart was racing, his body nearly trembling as it waited for the return of that pleasurable shock. Gratitude, this was not. Auron lay very still, hands resolutely at his sides, until the feeling went away and he slept once more. The blitzball shot into the air, its blue and white surface almost lost against the bright midday sky. Tidus leapt after it like a dolphin, spun, flipped, and situated himself for the kick. At the top of his arc he saw Auron watching him, katana in hand, completely distracted from his exercise. There was something in his gaze and posture that Tidus' overactive imagination labeled as frank admiration. Tidus missed the ball entirely. He forgot there even was a ball, and the existence of gravity to boot. He landed in the water with a huge and ungainly splash, and the blitzball came down right on his head. "Ow!" Tidus spluttered and rubbed at the sore spot, glaring at the blitzball which floated a few feet away as if mocking him. A snort from above drew his eyes upward and made his humiliation complete. Auron stood at the houseboat's railing, and the eye regarding him over the dark glasses held a sparkling humor. Tidus groaned to himself, the previous moment forgotten in the rush of embarrassment. "What are you staring at?" he snapped. The humor vanished, along with every other hint of emotion. "That shot needs work." "You think?" Pretty lame for a come-back, but Auron had already turned away, so it hardly mattered. Tidus dove into the blue depths of the bay, trying to outrun his embarrassment. There was some force, somewhere in the universe, whose sole purpose was to see to it that you made a fool of yourself in front of the people you most wanted to impress. Tidus could hear it laughing at him. Cold. Darkness. Shock. Auron jerked awake, and rolled out of bed with a curse. His subconscious seemed more than willing to replay that memory at every opportunity. Giving up on sleep, Auron headed to the bathing room, intending to soak the tension from his bones. The tub, steep-sided, translucent, and made from a slightly resilient material, was a far cry from the wooden or tiled affairs found on Spira. Auron tapped the correct volume and temperature into the control panel, then pressed a button. A bright light, lesser cousin to the energies used at Zanarkand Stadium's sphere pool, filled the tub and left in its wake clear, steaming water. Of all the wonders of the machina city, hot water on demand had to be among the best. More prosaic taps supplied the wash water, and Auron washed quickly, then sank into the steaming tub with a sigh. He spread his arms along the rim and made a determined effort to relax, closing his eye. Cold. Darkness. Shock. Damn. Auron held his breath and ducked under the water. Heat closed over his face and his pulse beat in his ears. The memory reverberated in the back of his mind like a distant echo. After a minute or two his lungs began to protest the lack of oxygen, and that brought the echo back louder. Dark-cold-shock. Tidus' hands on his face. Tidus' lips on his. Auron sat up, blowing out his breath. Air. Tidus. Auron stared at the ceiling, futilely struggling to escape the inescapable. He succeeded in tearing his thoughts away from that moment in the storm, only to be presented with another sensory image. Sunlight off golden hair, as the boy hung suspended in air for one magnificent instant. He'd missed the shot spectacularly, but for that single instant he'd snatched Auron's breath away with his sheer beauty. Auron gave up on bathing as he'd given up on sleep, and climbed from the tub. He toweled himself dry and padded back to his bedroom in search of fresh clothing. The soft, loose sleeping trousers he selected caressed his legs in a manner too sensual for comfort, right now. Auron stubbornly yanked them on anyway. This had gone on long enough. He needed to acknowledge the fact that he had developed an attraction to Tidus. Ignoring it wasn't making it go away. Auron pulled at the tangled sheets on his bed, tugging them into a semblance of order. He was attracted. Very well. The real question was what to do about it. Remaining silent seemed the most inviting course, but it wasn't possible. Tidus had already noticed his odd behavior. Soon the boy would figure it out on his own, and that could cause serious trouble. No, somehow Auron needed to make his feelings known without precipitating a disaster. Tidus had been independent of Auron's guardianship for a year now, ever since he'd joined the Zanarkand Abes as a professional player. But Auron knew Tidus still viewed him as a father-figure. That made the boy's reaction problematical. Disgust he could handle, even hatred, but if Tidus distanced himself completely, Auron would have a very difficult time carrying out his promise to Jecht. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of a way to soften the blow. Auron sighed. He would just have to deal with it when it happened. Perhaps he could find a way to make it easier for Tidus. For himself there would be nothing, of course. But that was a given. Auron found his fingers at his mouth, pressing lightly. He left them where they were. It was all that he had. CENSORED
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Tumultuous
By: Fairy Armadillo
Auron/Tidus yaoi - A moment underwater has lasting effects. Censored for ffn.
Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 3,566 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 2 - Published: 12/1/2002 - id: 1098386
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Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten
"Tumultuous"
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