Title: Hanging By A Thread.
Series: Fairy Tail, AU.
Pairing: NaLu.
Raiting: M - sexually explicit content.
A/N (Snogfairy): This is a collab with my lovely forgottenwhispersxo! I wrote Chapter 1 from Lucy's point of view, and she wrote Chapter 2 from Natsu's point of view. They're not the same scene though! Hers will be a continuation from where mine leaves off.
This one is all about dem muscles.
NaLu Love Fest - Bonus Day Prompt: Breasts/Muscles
The coppery ticket creased slightly in the young woman's hand as she clutched it tighter, filled to the brink with excitement.
Beside her, a young boy was digging into his popcorn enthusiastically, and the smell filled her nostrils, making her wish she had bought some when she had had the chance.
Lucy Heartfilia was not one to spend her money mindlessly, especially not since she had taken up freelance writing. She needed every penny she earned. However, there was one thing, one tiny luxury, that she would not deny herself.
The circus.
Every year, she would find the time and money to visit this artistic spectacle when it came to her otherwise rather bland town, filling the streets with a hustle and bustle and excitement that only a big tent and the smell of straw and candy could provoke.
It wasn't just any circus, either. It was the Fairy Tail Circus. The one that had captivated her very soul with its imaginative stunts, daring shows and spectacular artists. And of the latter, there was one in particular that had captured her attention.
The Salamander.
Or so they called him. She didn't even know his real name.
From the first time she had laid eyes on him in the busy arena, all muscle and sweat and fire, her heart had given a leap and had not stopped fluttering since.
Now, too, her body and mind became more agitated by the second. The director, a little old man with a fierce yet gentle face, had announced the next act loudly. His act.
When the group took the stage. her eyes instinctively sought out his form. The five artists wasted no time and got straight to the performance, doing acrobatics that she couldn't have come up with in her wildest dreams.
In this flash of skin and blue and pink and black, all she could focus on was him. Her eyes found him everytime, without fail.
Everything about him lured her in. The concentrated look she sometimes caught when he turned his handsome face in her direction, the pink (or was it salmon?) colored hair, the tanned skin that stretched over his lean muscles… Oh, those muscles. They made her weak.
She watched intently as he bent his lean legs, and in the next moment he was whirling through the air in one - and two - and three somersaults, the last of which came to a halt when he landed on one of his partner's shoulders. There, he caught another acrobat, the taller of the two blue haired women, who in turn climbed on his shoulders before flic-flacing back onto the ground. A murmur of appreciation drifted through the big tent.
They continued their act, but she barely recognized much of it - her eyes were glued to his body. He had started sweating, and the bright spotlight shining onto him made it seem like he was glowing. The beads of sweat travelled along his body, dripping from his face and onto his chest, where they made their way through the crevices of his marble body. She found herself envying the droplets as they disappeared into the waistband of his pants.
If she could only reach forward and feel his blazing hot skin shiver as she pulled them down his hips, eliciting soft moans with every kiss she'd place on his sweaty skin. How would his voice sound as he called her name? Sheesh, Lucy! The blonde blushed furiously as she caught herself so deep in naughty thought.
The second female performer was rolling herself off the front of that other tall guy's shoulders, the one with the long black hair tamed in a ponytail, and along his chest - really, their difference in size was so big it was almost ridiculous - as he held her legs in place, grabbing her securely until she reached the ground and he pulled her back to her feet in one swift motion.
She turned away from him and fixed her eyes on the Salamander, approaching him with an elegant sway of her hips.
The short, almost tiny woman came to a halt before him gracefully.
Strong, calloused hands moved to her hips. He hoisted her up into the air, where she bent and twisted until her head came to a rest on top of his, blue locks mixing with his salmon curls, their hands pressing together as she steadied herself.
Oh how she wanted to be that lucky woman. How she wanted his fingers digging into her hips, and the feel of his hair as she tangled her hands in it. He would spin her through the air before catching her in his strong arms as if she were a feather, and then…
Not for the first time in her life, Lucy was thankful for having been born a woman - no one could see her arousal. But she felt it. She felt it with every intake of her breath, with every little movement of her legs, with every heartbeat that spiked her pulse.
How was it possible that a man she had never even had the pleasure of admiring face to face, let lone talk to, could do those things to her?
Loud claps and cheers brought her back to reality.
They were at the ropes now, all five of them climbing them effortlessly. They made it look so easy, as if they were taking an afternoon stroll. She watched the flexing and stretching of his biceps as he pulled himself upwards, how the muscles in his belly rippled as he clenched and unclenched them, his whole body working to get him higher and higher. His pink hair was glowing in the limelight. Sweat was dripping down his chin.
Lucy swallowed hard.
Faintly, she observed the others, but they were just a shadow in the perception of her one-tracked mind. The small woman who had been balancing on his head not long ago was now again performing with the tall, almost intimidating man whose piercings reflected the bright light shining onto him. The other man with equally dark hair was holding the slender woman clad in a blue suit, her movements flowing as she hung onto his legs. But the only one she had eyes for was alone.
He was holding on to a single rope, and it looked like he was only hanging by a thread, so thin it could snap at any moment. Though his muscles were tense as he held himself up in the air, there was relaxation oozing off of him, as if he was not meters above the ground, unsecured and with everyone's eyes on him.
And then he let go.
Conscious thought slipped from her like his hand from the rope, and her heart stopped. But he didn't need hands. He caught himself halfway down by slinging the dangling rope around the calf of his right leg, tensing every muscle in his body as his fall came to an abrupt halt.
It was all part of his routine, yet it affected her every time, sending shivers down her spine and making her breath come out flat.
Mesmerized, she watched as he lifted his upper body. How was this even possible? His whole body was glistening in sweat, yet he managed to make the movement seem like nothing. He was all muscle. Every last bit of him was hard steel, smooth skin and fire. The way the light lit him up, it looked like flames were burning on his skin.
She could have watched him forever.
Lucy only resumed breathing when his feet had safely touched the ground again. His chest rose and fell erratically, his rosy hair sticking to his forehead. She wanted to brush it away with her fingertips.
Applause filled the arena, but she could only stare, her body suddenly refusing to obey her faltering mind. Her skin felt hot.
Beside her, the empty bag of popcorn fell to the ground as the young boy jumped up, pulling at his mother's sleave and excitedly roaring his admiration.
The man with the peculiar haircolour must have noticed, because his eyes fixed themselves on the child. He grinned.
Lucy's heart stopped.
She had never seen such a grin, so bright and true and proud, stretching from one ear to the other. It was addicting, contagious, and it made her insides melt. Her lips trembled as she exhaled.
And then he looked at her.
It was fleeting, a miniscule moment in time, but his eyes had graced her flushed face, locking with hers. Before she could even react, he had averted his gaze again, strolling confidently to a barrel at the outer ring of his stage.
Oh, this was her favourite part.
The two couples were continuing their performance above the audience's head, swinging and swirling, and a magical silence overcame the whole tent as the Salamander grabbed one of the long sticks peeking out from the barrel.
Her heart was still hammering in her chest when he lit the torch. His gaze had been so intense, like everything he seemed to do was. Whether it was a look he gave to everyone or if it had been reserved especially for her, she did not know. She didn't even allow herself to hope such a thing. Without a doubt, he enjoyed the attention of many women, and surely he would not deny them? He was an incredibly attractive man after all. Somehow, the thought didn't sit right with her. She didn't want him to be for all women.
He was hers. Her own little secret, her private performer, the thing she looked forward to the most when she laid eyes on a flyer or poster announcing the renewed arrival of the circus.
It was almost funny, that sudden feeling of jealousy. She had to reprimand herself, shaking her head firmly. Lucy, you never even talked to him. He probably didn't even see you. He doesn't know you exist. It was a coincidence. Get a grip.
After taking a deep breath, she finally allowed her eyes to return to him, standing there in the middle of the arena, flaming torch in his steady grip as he held it above his head.
Then he turned it around in his hand, letting its unlit end point at the ceiling while he lowered the fire, closer and closer to his mouth. A gasp went through the crowd in unison when his lips engulfed the angry flames.
Lucy held her breath with him, her eyes gliding along his jawline and his throat, where she imagined the fire must be burning. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his chest rose. Unable to deny herself the pleasure of letting her eyes skim over his bare upper body, she let them travel lower, following a drop of sweat that made its way past his bellybutton. And along the v-shaped muscles that led into his pants. His stupid, exorbitantly loose pants that fit him so perfectly as they hung from his hips. Again, she felt the burning desire to rip them off and take him right there in the dust of the arena.
But then, he pulled the extinguished torch back out of his mouth, his wet lips releasing the stick and sucking in the refreshing, much-needed air.
His mouth would be soft and rough against hers, scorching her skin as he would kiss his way along her neck and to her collarbone.
Fire was dancing around him yet again. He was holding two burning torches now, and Lucy stared, like a moth drawn to the flame. And she would gladly burn.
Just then, as he swirled the torches around himself and brought one of them to his mouth, his eyes locked with hers yet again. Was she imagining things? Her heart beat furiously against the restraints of her chest, yet she could not avert her gaze. Neither did he. They looked at each other as his lips parted, and then his face was swallowed by the raging storm of flames that exploded in front of him, like a mighty dragon's roar.
Shivers were skittering down Lucy's spine, and her fingers gripped the edges of her seat as she leaned forward unconsciously.
When the flames cleared, the first thing she saw again was that grin. That dazzling, irresistible, joyful grin. And this time, it was directed at her. Her eyes widened as ardour gripped her, and finally she started clapping loudly, beaming at the young man.
The rest of his group had made their way back to the ground safely, and now they all bowed, accompanied by the loud cheers of the crowd. His head dove low, and for a second she found herself admiring his strong neck, and the fine pink fluff that travelled upwards its nape until it turned into the messy mane that was his hair.
When he came back up, his eyes found hers again immediately. This could be no accident. He was shamelessly staring at her now, the hunger in his eyes reminding him of her own.
And then he lifted his arm, extending it until his index finger was pointing directly at - something behind her?
She turned her head in confusion, but found nothing of particular interest. Bewildered, she craned her neck a little more, and was only stopped when she felt a light tug at her elbow.
She blinked at the little boy sheepishly. He seemed shy, not daring to speak, but his tiny finger was pointing directly at her, and then he pointed his head back at the arena.
…oh.
Her? The Salamander was pointing at her.
When she found his eyes again, he was laughing, actually laughing out loud at her oblivion. Her cheeks turned a flaming red, and she squinted her eyes at him.
But then he extended his hand again, offering it to her, and she suddenly knew that not a single thing in this world could have kept her on her little chair.