Fragments
Lynn Cheshire (guenhwyvar85@yahoo.com)
Notes: (all parts) These are all part of a series of fragment stories. Someday I want to write the entire story of Auron, Braska, and Jecht's Pilgrimage, but until that day comes you guys will just have to be happy with the little bits and pieces I post here.
(this part) This fragment takes place just after the incident where Jecht strikes the shoopuf. Slash, Auron/Braska and Jecht/Auron. XD
//...// Symbolizes thoughts.
--------------------
Braska breathed wearily as he set his staff aside, his slumped shoulders and creased brow gave him the appearance of a man much older than his years. Auron felt a sharp ache pierce his heart when he looked at him. The life that had been there when they had set out on their journey was all but spent.
"Damn that Jecht." The Guardian muttered more to himself than anyone else. He placed his sword lovingly down beside Braska's staff and walked up behind him.
Braska turned his head to face him. "Please; it was not like he intentionally attacked that shoopuf."
Auron scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest. "He just cost us all the gil we had and still you defend him? He's a raving lunatic! Why you ever wanted him to join us still baffles my mind." Auron stopped himself from continuing and turned his face away.
Braska chuckled lightly. "Do I detect a note of jealousy, dear friend?"
Auron glared his infamous scowl at the Summoner.
Braska sighed heavily and turned again to stare out across the still water. "Sometimes, times like these, I almost agree with you. But." he faltered and bowed his head. Auron closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the other man's small frame; enveloping him in a warm and intimate embrace.
"But, if we did not take him with us," Braska continued, folding his hands over Auron's arms. "Where would he be now? Rotting away in Bevelle's prison? Or would he already have been executed for his heresy towards Yevon? Despite all the trouble he has caused us, when I think of the alternative it makes it all worth it."
"I'm sorry." Auron whispered, he rested his chin down on the shorter man's shoulder and breathed in deeply, savoring the familiar scent he found their. He closed his eyes and was transported back to Bevelle, back to nights of passion spent on soft pillows and down comforters, where the spicy aroma of incense mingled with the fragrance of ancient gardens and the musky scent that was so uniquely Braska. His heart broke a little more as he thought of what was to come, his arms closed tightly around Braska's thin waist as he uttered a silent prayer, not to Yevon, who was the cause of his undying ache, but to whatever other powers might be listening. //Please, show me a way to save him; he's all I have, please.// "We will not travel any further today." Braska said, rousing Auron from his contemplations. The Summoners calm yet commanding voice washed over him and he nodded silently, releasing his hold on his love.
"Shall I go collect Jecht?" Auron asked, a sardonic smile spreading across his face.
Braska nodded and seated himself at the base of a large tree. "I need to rest and collect my thoughts, figure out what to do next."
Auron bowed formally and left the Summoner to his musings.
-----
Auron's ears were assaulted with the most horrifying rendition of the Hymn of the Fayth he'd ever had the displeasure of hearing. He groaned and rolled his eyes as he entered a small clearing on the edge of the river.
"Ie yuuuuuuuui! Asateka nene," Jecht hiccupped "Renmeiii..."
"How can you sing at a time like this?" Auron demanded as he strode over to where Jecht sat propped up against a tree. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared, giving the other man a swift kick in the shin.
Jecht struggled to his feet, failing several attempts, before finally succeeding. "Jus' li'ining teh mood," he blinked several times as he tried to bring the shorter man into focus. He reached out for Auron's shoulders to steady himself on.
For a moment Auron just stared at the drunk, //are those tears in his eyes? Does he actually feel bad about what he did?//
//No.// It wasn't possible. Auron shoved him off and Jecht staggered, almost falling backward from the Guardian's strength.
"Whasatfor?" Jecht slurred after he regained his balance. He prodded the shorter man's shoulder several times.
"Do you even care about how Braska feels?!" Auron demanded, his anger growing by the second. "We *needed* that money, Jecht! Don't you care about anything but yourself?"
Jecht swayed and pointed an unsteady finger in Auron's face. "Fuck 'im, fuck 'im and 'is pilgrimage."
That was it. Auron had had enough. In one swift movement he introduced his fist to Jecht's jaw. The force of the blow sent Jecht sprawling on the ground. He blinked and rubbed his jaw as he processed exactly what had just happened.
Auron's fist hung in the air where it had made contact; it began to throb but he didn't care; it felt good and long overdue. "Don't you *ever* speak ill of him again." He breathed his voice dripping with pent up furry. "You have no idea the toll this whole thing is taking on him."
"You know what?" Jecht stood up, looking disturbingly sober; he spat angrily and a bit of blood trickled down his chin. He squared his shoulder and rushed at Auron, swinging full force and hitting Auron right below the eye, causing him to take several steps back. The next punch knocked the wind from him and he doubled over. Jecht grabbed Auron by his collar and hoisted him up to eye level. "I don't give a damn, not about your Fayth, about this world, this pilgrimage or even about Braska at the moment. All I care about is going *home*."
"Bastard," Auron whispered through clenched teeth. "You selfish bastard!" He shouted and tackled Jecht. They hit the ground hard but Jecht was the first to recover, wrapping his leg around Auron's and flipping them around. They began to roll; one large mass of limbs lashing out, tearing at cloth, flesh and hair.
Exhaustion finally won out and they paused for a moment, both breathing in heavy, raged breaths. Jecht had gained the high ground on top while Auron continued to struggle beneath him.
"Quit squirming around for a second!" Jecht managed to get out between breaths.
"And give you the advantage?" Auron continued to wiggle and squirm.
A pained and slightly desperate expression crossed Jecht's features. "You *really* want to stop that." Jecht whispered, looking down at him through half closed eyelids.
Auron slowed his struggling. Had he really hurt him that bad?
Slowly he became very aware of the growing heat between them, the duet-like rhythm of their breathing. He could hear the pounding of Jecht's heart, and felt his own begin to quicken.
"Jecht.?" he questioned, his anxiety growing with each agonizingly slow moment.
It all happened very fast. Jecht put his hands over Auron's shoulders and pinned him to the ground, Auron had just enough time to let out a strangled sound of protest before he was silenced by the other man's lips crashing against his own.
Before Auron could even think clearly Jecht had skillfully pried his lips apart and began a fierce battle with his tongue. The kiss was a whirlwind of passion and desperation; it felt as if Jecht were putting his whole soul behind it.
Auron's eyes, at fist wide with shock and confusion, began to slowly drift closed. Jecht tasted surprisingly good; like ginger and pine nuts mingling with sake, all laced with the metallic tang of blood. The guardian felt a dull ache begin to grow between his legs and a sound like a strangled moan came from deep within his throat.
At the sound Jecht deepened the kiss even more. One of his arms released its grip on Auron's shoulder and trailed slowly down his chest, producing another satisfying moan. Encouraged, Jecht's hand roamed even lower finding and loosening Auron's belts. Without hesitation the hand snaked straight down below his belts.
Auron's eyes sprang open and he violently broke the kiss. He shoved Jecht off him and quickly rose to his feet. Swaying a bit, he looked around him as if seeing the world for the first time and being confused by all he saw. His mouth moved a few times but no sound came. He turned unsteadily and fled the clearing.
Notes: (all parts) These are all part of a series of fragment stories. Someday I want to write the entire story of Auron, Braska, and Jecht's Pilgrimage, but until that day comes you guys will just have to be happy with the little bits and pieces I post here.
(this part) This fragment takes place just after the incident where Jecht strikes the shoopuf. Slash, Auron/Braska and Jecht/Auron. XD
//...// Symbolizes thoughts.
--------------------
Braska breathed wearily as he set his staff aside, his slumped shoulders and creased brow gave him the appearance of a man much older than his years. Auron felt a sharp ache pierce his heart when he looked at him. The life that had been there when they had set out on their journey was all but spent.
"Damn that Jecht." The Guardian muttered more to himself than anyone else. He placed his sword lovingly down beside Braska's staff and walked up behind him.
Braska turned his head to face him. "Please; it was not like he intentionally attacked that shoopuf."
Auron scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest. "He just cost us all the gil we had and still you defend him? He's a raving lunatic! Why you ever wanted him to join us still baffles my mind." Auron stopped himself from continuing and turned his face away.
Braska chuckled lightly. "Do I detect a note of jealousy, dear friend?"
Auron glared his infamous scowl at the Summoner.
Braska sighed heavily and turned again to stare out across the still water. "Sometimes, times like these, I almost agree with you. But." he faltered and bowed his head. Auron closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the other man's small frame; enveloping him in a warm and intimate embrace.
"But, if we did not take him with us," Braska continued, folding his hands over Auron's arms. "Where would he be now? Rotting away in Bevelle's prison? Or would he already have been executed for his heresy towards Yevon? Despite all the trouble he has caused us, when I think of the alternative it makes it all worth it."
"I'm sorry." Auron whispered, he rested his chin down on the shorter man's shoulder and breathed in deeply, savoring the familiar scent he found their. He closed his eyes and was transported back to Bevelle, back to nights of passion spent on soft pillows and down comforters, where the spicy aroma of incense mingled with the fragrance of ancient gardens and the musky scent that was so uniquely Braska. His heart broke a little more as he thought of what was to come, his arms closed tightly around Braska's thin waist as he uttered a silent prayer, not to Yevon, who was the cause of his undying ache, but to whatever other powers might be listening. //Please, show me a way to save him; he's all I have, please.// "We will not travel any further today." Braska said, rousing Auron from his contemplations. The Summoners calm yet commanding voice washed over him and he nodded silently, releasing his hold on his love.
"Shall I go collect Jecht?" Auron asked, a sardonic smile spreading across his face.
Braska nodded and seated himself at the base of a large tree. "I need to rest and collect my thoughts, figure out what to do next."
Auron bowed formally and left the Summoner to his musings.
-----
Auron's ears were assaulted with the most horrifying rendition of the Hymn of the Fayth he'd ever had the displeasure of hearing. He groaned and rolled his eyes as he entered a small clearing on the edge of the river.
"Ie yuuuuuuuui! Asateka nene," Jecht hiccupped "Renmeiii..."
"How can you sing at a time like this?" Auron demanded as he strode over to where Jecht sat propped up against a tree. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared, giving the other man a swift kick in the shin.
Jecht struggled to his feet, failing several attempts, before finally succeeding. "Jus' li'ining teh mood," he blinked several times as he tried to bring the shorter man into focus. He reached out for Auron's shoulders to steady himself on.
For a moment Auron just stared at the drunk, //are those tears in his eyes? Does he actually feel bad about what he did?//
//No.// It wasn't possible. Auron shoved him off and Jecht staggered, almost falling backward from the Guardian's strength.
"Whasatfor?" Jecht slurred after he regained his balance. He prodded the shorter man's shoulder several times.
"Do you even care about how Braska feels?!" Auron demanded, his anger growing by the second. "We *needed* that money, Jecht! Don't you care about anything but yourself?"
Jecht swayed and pointed an unsteady finger in Auron's face. "Fuck 'im, fuck 'im and 'is pilgrimage."
That was it. Auron had had enough. In one swift movement he introduced his fist to Jecht's jaw. The force of the blow sent Jecht sprawling on the ground. He blinked and rubbed his jaw as he processed exactly what had just happened.
Auron's fist hung in the air where it had made contact; it began to throb but he didn't care; it felt good and long overdue. "Don't you *ever* speak ill of him again." He breathed his voice dripping with pent up furry. "You have no idea the toll this whole thing is taking on him."
"You know what?" Jecht stood up, looking disturbingly sober; he spat angrily and a bit of blood trickled down his chin. He squared his shoulder and rushed at Auron, swinging full force and hitting Auron right below the eye, causing him to take several steps back. The next punch knocked the wind from him and he doubled over. Jecht grabbed Auron by his collar and hoisted him up to eye level. "I don't give a damn, not about your Fayth, about this world, this pilgrimage or even about Braska at the moment. All I care about is going *home*."
"Bastard," Auron whispered through clenched teeth. "You selfish bastard!" He shouted and tackled Jecht. They hit the ground hard but Jecht was the first to recover, wrapping his leg around Auron's and flipping them around. They began to roll; one large mass of limbs lashing out, tearing at cloth, flesh and hair.
Exhaustion finally won out and they paused for a moment, both breathing in heavy, raged breaths. Jecht had gained the high ground on top while Auron continued to struggle beneath him.
"Quit squirming around for a second!" Jecht managed to get out between breaths.
"And give you the advantage?" Auron continued to wiggle and squirm.
A pained and slightly desperate expression crossed Jecht's features. "You *really* want to stop that." Jecht whispered, looking down at him through half closed eyelids.
Auron slowed his struggling. Had he really hurt him that bad?
Slowly he became very aware of the growing heat between them, the duet-like rhythm of their breathing. He could hear the pounding of Jecht's heart, and felt his own begin to quicken.
"Jecht.?" he questioned, his anxiety growing with each agonizingly slow moment.
It all happened very fast. Jecht put his hands over Auron's shoulders and pinned him to the ground, Auron had just enough time to let out a strangled sound of protest before he was silenced by the other man's lips crashing against his own.
Before Auron could even think clearly Jecht had skillfully pried his lips apart and began a fierce battle with his tongue. The kiss was a whirlwind of passion and desperation; it felt as if Jecht were putting his whole soul behind it.
Auron's eyes, at fist wide with shock and confusion, began to slowly drift closed. Jecht tasted surprisingly good; like ginger and pine nuts mingling with sake, all laced with the metallic tang of blood. The guardian felt a dull ache begin to grow between his legs and a sound like a strangled moan came from deep within his throat.
At the sound Jecht deepened the kiss even more. One of his arms released its grip on Auron's shoulder and trailed slowly down his chest, producing another satisfying moan. Encouraged, Jecht's hand roamed even lower finding and loosening Auron's belts. Without hesitation the hand snaked straight down below his belts.
Auron's eyes sprang open and he violently broke the kiss. He shoved Jecht off him and quickly rose to his feet. Swaying a bit, he looked around him as if seeing the world for the first time and being confused by all he saw. His mouth moved a few times but no sound came. He turned unsteadily and fled the clearing.