AN: This ficlet is just cute drabble that resulted from a promt "someone steals Laguna's shirt", prompted by a friend. Btw, if you have any prompts or want to wish me for a particular type of fic, please let me know via message. I'm always up for a new challenge.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Final Fantasy VIII characters.
Heat. So much heat.
The green eyes flutter half-way open to gaze down at the writhing form, glazed over and unfocused. There is a thin layer of salty sheen on her skin. The woman's hair lays disheveled across the pillows; she has her head thrown backwards, a blissful moan tears from her, she shakes her head lightly as a wave after wave of pleasure washes over her, making her see stars. A pleasure he is giving to her.
It is the most erotic sight he has ever seen. He loves it, the sounds she's making, how she feels around him as he pushes in deeper. Her scent, her expressions. He loves all of it.
He loves her.
After, he holds her close. He wonders if she's asleep; she has nuzzled her face into his shoulder and he feels the air of her breath. Her face is relaxed and there are the lingering remains of a content smile gracing her lips. He brings a hand to stroke her hair behind the ear gently, careful not to pull. His lips spread into a loving smile as he studies her features, that beautiful heart-shaped face, her small mouth. There is something girly to the woman and his smile widens further.
He tentatively grabs her shoulder and whispers: "Raine?"
"Ummh?"
A soft chuckle. The woman is adorable in her afterglow.
"I'm gonna go take a shower. Do you want anything?"
The woman, Raine, raises her head – hair shaggy and eyes half-open – to plant a chaste kiss onto his lips. "No, thanks. I'm good."
A chuckle. "I noticed..."
"Oh, shut it!" she grins and pecks his lips gently before moving off of him. She buries herself back into the bedsheets and gets comfortable. He rests his hungry eyes on the curve of her exposed hip and waist, eats her up in his mind for a while. He leans down to kiss the top of her head before reluctantly gets off the bed, grabs his towel to wrap it around his hips and trots into the shower.
The water's scalding as it cascades down his battle-scarred back. Leaning his head back against the cool tile wall, Laguna lets his long hair get soaked as he rubs his scalp in a relaxed way. He enjoys the water's caress as it cleanses off the last lingers of sex.
How long has it been now? Months, but who counts? After he had woken up in Winhill all those seasons ago, it had soon become obvious he was staying. He owed Raine his life – whether or not either of them acknowledged that anymore, his honor demanded him to compensate her. But soon Laguna had found other reasons to delay his departure. Little by little, almost unnoticed he had fallen in love with the woman who had become his savior. At first it had been nothing but infatuation. In secret, Laguna had treasured all the waking moments he shared with Raine, tentative and inner at first, but when he had begun to understand that all those "accidental", fleeting touches, kind smiles and lingering gazes were actually not accidental at all... he had confessed to her. And she had felt the same way.
The green eyes find the ring in his finger, and a smile far more warm than the scalding water rinsing him spreads on his face. He's happy, probably happier than ever. Long ago, he had cast the army aside; his place is here now, with his wife and Ellone, with the villagers. He'd do all in his might to keep them safe.
He has stepped out of the shower and is drying his hair into the towel, thus missing the quiet creak of the bathroom door. He tenses ever so slightly as he suddenly feels a presence behind him. He relaxes, however, when the soft pat of her feet sneaks closer and the feel of fabric on his skin snakes around him.
Raine lays a chaste kiss in between his muscular shoulder blades before he lowers the towel and turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. She's pressed tight against his still damp back, the moisture seeping into the cotton. The deep blue collar shirt is much too large for her, it's hem reaches her upper thighs, and she has done only four buttons. He chuckles.
"That's my shirt."
She mewls softly in return and shrugs. "You're not mad, are you?"
"Never."
He couldn't imagine being mad at her.
As a droplet of water slides down from his hair onto his neck and back, he pulls her around into a tight embrace. Determined yet gentle fingers raise her chin, the ice blue melts into the warmth of the green orbs, and he kisses her – lovingly, savoringly, tenderly – and she wraps her slender arms around his neck to bring him closer.