Standard Disclaimer. I do not own FFX or the characters in it. They are owned by Square-Enix. I do own this story, and my original characters. The song "Slow Hand" was written by Michael Clark and John Bettis, performed by The Pointer Sisters, and "Help Me" was written and performed by Joni Mitchell, and I don't own them, either.
After a second day traversing the twisting paths of the Macalania Woods, the party had reached the shelter of yet another of Rin's ubiquitous Travel Agencies. They all dreaded the next stage of their journey, which would probably result in one more meeting with Seymour Guado. Auron had his doubts about Yuna's ability to successfully negotiate with the wily young Maester, but as she had invoked her Summoner's privilege, the next move was up to her. At least, the relative safety of the Agency would permit all of them to get a decent night's rest, although he suspected that Kimahri would spend the night patrolling the hall outside Yuna's room. That was the Ronso's choice. Auron planned to spend another night with his memories for company.
…Zanarkand…five years ago…
By the time they went onstage at half past ten, Mercy was so keyed up she was ready to climb the walls of the Green Room. On the one hand, she had argued with Daf until she had some very specific songs in the play list that night. She wanted to send Auron a message, if he was willing to understand it. And she wanted to sing 'Seven Wonders' for him again, maybe for the last time, if he didn't get it. On the other hand, she was too damned nervous to even check to see if he was in the audience.
Then the manager asked them to sing the full six songs tonight, even though it was Fifthnight and he had a lot of acts lined up. He thought they were getting 'hot', and he hoped they would hold the audience, since the group before them wasn't very good. There is just too much happening at once. It's enough to give a girl the vapors, she thought.
As she scanned the audience she saw that he was there now. Auron was sitting in a second row table again. He was getting to be a creature of habit, it seemed. Dafydd strummed the opening bars for the first number, and Mercy began to sing. She made eye contact with Auron, just for a second, and nodded to him, then she began to look over the crowd. This song wasn't for him.
He watched her, heard her voice, but he wasn't taking in the words. After the initial eye contact, her gaze was roaming the crowd, so it was clear that there was nothing aimed at him in this song. He hoped he might have some semblance of self-control by the time there was.
His breath had quickened at the sight of her. His groin tightened to the point where pleasure almost met pain. But her face completely mesmerized him. It was beautiful, strong, fiercely determined, utterly female, and filled with such joy as she sang. Her body was a delight to his senses, as she prowled back and forth across the stage in time to the music. His fingers twitched. The urge to untie the bow at her back and fill his hands with her breasts was beyond any temptation he had ever known.
The second song was sad and sweet, about love, and loss, and not directed anywhere in particular. The third song was different again. The rhythm was like sex, nothing else. It seemed to beat in his blood. If he had calmed down at all, he was on fire again, maybe even more than before. And now, she was singing for him, at least for part of the song. She didn't quite have the courage to speak, yet, but to sing:
I want a man with a slow hand
I want a lover with an easy touch
I want somebody who will spend some time
Not come and go in a heated rush
I want somebody who will understand
When it comes to love I want a slow hand
Then her eyes turned away. The rest of the song said she'd found the man, and Mercy had no idea whether she had, or not. He got the message. Damnation, woman, is it necessary for the entire audience to receive it as well? Auron was not certain which he desired more at that moment, to leave with her, immediately, and answer the question she had just implied in the song, or to simply sink through the floor, in complete embarrassment. No, he knew the answer. He was rock solid certain he was ready to carry her off the stage this very minute.
But she wasn't finished. There was one more thing she needed to tell him, so as the applause died, Daf began strumming the opening bars for the next song, and she quickly followed with the verse, as her eyes met Auron's again:
Help me
I think I'm falling
In love again
When I get that crazy feeling, I know
I'm in trouble again
As she sang she turned away from him, to let the meaning start to sink in. He sat, stunned, trying to absorb what he was hearing. Her eyes returned to meet his, to continue:
Help me
I think I'm falling
In love too fast
It's got me hoping for the future
And worrying about the past
'cause I've seen some hot high blazes
Come down to smoke and ash
Help me
I think I'm falling
In love with you
Are you going to let me go there by myself?
That's such a lonely thing to do
Both of us flirting around
Flirting and flirting
Hurting too
We love our lovin'
But not like we love our freedom
He took his glasses off, and set them on the table, to be sure she could see him clearly. She bowed to the audience as they applauded. When she stood, she looked at Auron. He met her gaze, and nodded. She still wondered if that meant he understood, he felt the same, or just that he liked the song. She was just going to have to ask. He sat in wonder. If I understood correctly, she feels as I do. But will she believe…?
One more song, something Daf had wanted, then they closed with 'Seven Wonders'. Auron was touched by the gesture. As soon as they were done, she went to Auron's table, learned over the vacant chair, picked up the waiting water glass, drained half, and asked, "Go home?"
"Sure," he replied, low, almost hoarse.
Neither of them spoke much on the way. Either they were silent, or they both tried to talk at once. It was as though there were no safe topics. Also, she was too wrapped up in her own fears to see that he was also troubled.
Inside her apartment she brought the lights on low, hung her jacket on the coat rack. Auron put his glasses in a coat pocket, fumbling on the first attempt. He started to take of his coat, but she stopped him. "Wait, there's something I need to say." She studied her toes for several seconds, then met his puzzled gaze. "Auron, I…" the window this time, "I'm…" she finally managed to lock her eyes with his. "I'm not interested in a one-night stand, or a brief fling." She took a deep breath, then rushed on. "I'm falling in love with you. If you're not planning to take this relationship seriously, please leave now. You'll hurt me less in the long run."
He needed a few seconds to translate the unfamiliar slang. He decided that both terms meant 'casual encounter'. That was not what he wanted, either. He had already revealed far too much of himself for this to be merely a casual encounter. How do I tell her? He decided to answer her question from the tower, instead of the immediate challenge. It will serve.
"The question you asked the other night, 'What do I need?'" he responded, asking rather than answering her directly.
"Yes?" she replied, uncertain about his change in direction.
He cupped her face in his hands. "I need you," he whispered, as he bent to kiss her. Then he drew her close, into his arms, cradling her whole body against his. After a long embrace, they looked closely into each other's faces, then her eyes closed slowly, and she inclined her head. Yes. Tonight, there would be plenty of time. He swept her up into his arms.
As he carried her into the bedroom, he only noticed that the room was bathed in the moonlight and starlight from the large windows that dominated two of the walls, the light spilling over the large, unmade bed. He wasn't paying attention to anything else, except the sweetness of her mouth on his. For this one night, nothing else would matter.
He set her down on the edge of the bed, and she patted the mattress beside her, in the universal gesture for 'sit here', so he did. She slid her arms around his neck and then, suddenly felt shy. She brought her hand forward to touch his face with her fingertips. Why am I so nervous? This is not exactly my first time…but this is our first time. It is impossible to make love and not feel love, at least a little. And I already love this man. After tonight, there will be no turning back.
He was nervous as well, as he looped one arm around her waist, and lifted his other hand to her shoulder. I have never been with a woman I truly cared for, before now. I have had sex, but never made love. I love this woman. How much different will this be? He reached up and rubbed his thumb across her lips. She kissed it. He caught her chin in his hand, and leaned over to brush his lips against hers. With her hand behind his head, she signaled that she didn't want him to move away. She kissed him back, lightly running her tongue over his upper lip. His breath caught, then changed to a faster pace. So did hers.
He kissed her again, his tongue beginning to dance with hers, and his hands stroked down her back and sides. Even through her shirt, she felt his palm caress the side of her breast. The exquisite sensation made her long to get closer to him. "This isn't fair", she murmured. "It's time to get you out of all that stuff," she continued, as she began to fumble with his belt.
"You should have let me take my coat off earlier," he whispered huskily, as he took over the task.
Her lips curled into an answering smile against his neck. "Smartass," she teased back.
His belt finally unbuckled, he heard it slither off the edge of the bed. He shrugged out of his coat, and it pooled around them. He undid the clasps on his armor, and let it fall over the end of the bed. She eagerly rubbed her palms over his chest, then her arms were around his waist, she heard his bracer drop to the floor, and felt his arms pull her in tight. She started to say something, to start teasing him again, and he stopped her with a kiss. She responded eagerly. All at once, their kisses turned hot, hungry, as she began tugging at his shirt, frantic to reach the bare flesh underneath. They fell onto the bed in a rolling tangle, neither caring who, or what, landed where. We've both waited too long for this, she thought. His mouth slanted over hers, the kiss hard, insistent. The aching need they had for each other began to overwhelm them. His fingers found the bow at her back, and pulled, and her shirt simply fell apart around her body. He traced a line in fire to her breasts, with hands and tongue, then she got his shirt over his head.
The shock of so much skin contact, his bare chest against her breasts, and the sheer, sweet pleasure of it, took his breath away. He cradled one of her breasts in his hand, as he suckled the other. She moaned something that sounded like, "Too good," just before she took his head in her hands and tilted it to meet hers. She poured herself into kissing him, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, wrapping her arms around him, he rolled half on top of her, pinning her with his weight, his hard shaft pressed against her hip, her legs tangled with his. His hands explored the curves of her derriere, molding her against him, and desperately seeking a way to remove her leggings. Her hand rested on the tightly ridged muscles of his lower abdomen. He groaned, and sucked in a deep breath, as she began to unfasten his pants, all the while, teasing the sensitive ridge of flesh just beneath her fingers.
She looked down, and realized they had forgotten something. She rested her hand on his hip, and turned her face up to his, a wide grin spread across her features. "What's so funny?" he practically growled. He was in no mood for jokes.
She grinned, even wider, if that was possible. "Auron, you still have your boots on." She laughed. "My shoes, too."
He chuckled, finally understanding. "So?" He didn't really need to take his boots off.
Mercy bounced off the bed. "My shoes are tied on over my leggings. If you want to go any further, I have to take my shoes off first. And those boots have got to go. Now!" She was laughing so hard; she had to put her hand on Auron's shoulder for support. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his lap to kiss her again, and they fell back onto the bed. Then she scrambled up again, breathless, and stood just out of his reach.
"Auron, your boots. Take. Them. Off."
He didn't answer her in words, just bent his head to complete the task as quickly as possible. He dropped one boot to the floor and looked up, and…she blew his mind away. Mercy was standing by the end of the bed, one foot propped on the footboard. She had apparently just untied the laces on one of her shoes, and was carefully drawing the leather strings back around her calf. Auron sat mesmerized, his stare traveling from her arched foot, up her calf to her knee, across the sweep of her thigh to the vee of her crotch, up to linger on her bare breasts, then on to her face, and then down and all the way down the slimly muscled length of her other leg to the floor, and back. Even though she was still clothed from the waist down, she was the most sensual, the most seductive woman he had ever seen.
She heard his erratic breathing as she finished with one shoe, so she looked up. She knew she would never forget the sight of him, just like this, as long as she lived. He had to be the sexiest man she had ever seen, or possibly even imagined. He was sitting there with his pants undone, and they had fallen down from his waist to his hips. He was leaning back on his hands, which were gripping the sheet underneath until the knuckles were white. His torso was corded with muscle, and it seemed like every one of them was knotted with the effort of not reaching out to grab her right this second, instead of waiting just a few more minutes. She could feel it in the air between them. His face was filled with desire, his jaw slack, his eye half-lidded. She was very tempted to jump into his lap and just let him tear her leggings off. Then he said, in a voice that was husky, even for him, "Wait, let me watch you do that," as he quickly pulled off his other boot and leaned back again to catch the rest of her show.
She carefully unwound the rest of the straps from her other shoe. He watched her in total fascination. Then, she stepped in front of him, and began to roll her leggings down, very, very slowly. He groaned when he saw her black lace panties begin to appear. She watched his face as she stripped in front of him, as turned on by his reaction as he was by her performance. He pulled her back onto the bed the second she had one leg free of the clinging material. He was certain he could manage the rest.
They managed to relieve each other of their few remaining articles of clothing, much more interested in getting them out of the way than in where the pieces ended up afterwards. Completely naked in each other's arms, Mercy felt more than physically open to him. Emotionally, she felt more vulnerable than she had ever been in her life. She clung to him, her face pressed against his neck. Then she lifted her face to his, and his lips met hers in a deep kiss. Next time, maybe we'll manage to take a little more time to explore, but, we need this now, she thought, looking up at him rising naked above her. As he plunged deep inside her, Auron thought to himself, I need you now. Tomorrow be damned.
The sensation was so intense, she felt so tight, so right, he had to force himself to hold completely still, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to move, to thrust deep, over and over, but he wanted to make this first time last…and he was afraid that if he moved…it wouldn't.
She felt…stretched…full and complete and waiting and empty all at the same time. She saw the cords standing out on his neck, his attempt to hang onto his control. Love, I don't want you in control, I want you to lose control. She tilted her hips slightly, taking him deeper inside. He groaned and rasped, "Lie still for minute. You feel so good. I want to try to make this last." He leaned down and kissed her, as her arms traced down his back, one hand reaching down to caress, and then to run her nails over his butt. He reacted automatically, his hips rocked, and she moaned with pleasure.
His gaze met hers, as his control slipped away. A lascivious smile on her face, she whispered, "We have all night, love," just as she pulled his head down for a soul-stealing kiss. He felt her legs wrap around his waist, her feet in the small of his back, urging him on. He lost himself in her arms, in her sweet body, lost everything except his need, his desire, his love for this woman.
She felt like she was in fragments that he was pounding apart and holding together, both at the same time, and that this was…just right, that this was exactly the way it was supposed to be, and she never wanted him to stop but she was almost there and she was so close, so close, and her eyes flew open and locked with his for a second, and then she climaxed, and in her mind and heart, it felt like she shattered into a million tiny pieces that he held together tenderly just by the strength in his arms and in his heart. But in the real world, she cried out his name, and her arms and her legs and her sex all tightened around him at the same instant, and his own release seemed to take him over the edge of the world.
Sated and spent, he barely managed to ease his weight off of her, and tuck her in against his side, before they both slid into unconsciousness.
Her feet were cold, so she pressed them against the nearest source of heat, and tried to drift back into slumber. He tried to dodge the roving ice blocks in his sleep, and woke to discover that his own feet were hanging off the edge of the bed. They had fallen asleep, or more accurately, passed out, across the foot of the bed, on top of the covers. The bed wasn't quite wide enough to support his six-foot frame. He scissor-kicked and caught her legs between his, to keep her from putting her icy feet anywhere important, and woke her with a kiss.
Her eyes finally opened. "Why are we sleeping at this end of the bed?"
He chuckled. "My lady, I believe that this is…the furthest we were able to manage, a little while ago." Then he caught her eyes, and a devilish grin spread across his face. "But I would like to try and get the rest of the way onto the bed, before we try again." His grin was infectious, and she smiled wickedly back at him. Then she noticed his feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and started to laugh.
Straightening themselves out took some time, as well as finally separating his coat from the bedding, but eventually they managed to get settled properly onto the bed, with their heads where the pillows were, and under the blankets. She curled up against him, her hand idly tracing patterns on the hard wall of his chest. Near his left shoulder, she found a patch of scar tissue the size of her palm, remnants of a deep wound from long ago. She caressed it softly, asking, "When did you get this?" knowing it must have nearly cost him the use of his arm.
He kissed her forehead, cradled her against his side. "Five years ago. I'd rather not talk about it now." He found a long, straight scar running down her arm, and asked her the same question, wanting to distract her.
"I was careless...no…I was too arrogant. I took on a challenge way outside my weight class in a tournament, four years ago." She laughed at herself, and pressed a kiss into his shoulder.
"Did you win?" he asked in a teasing tone.
She looked him up and down. "He was about your size. Show me your dojo sometime, and I'll let you try your luck. Then I'll tell you." Don't pressure him into anything, she warned herself.
If you're still speaking to me in the morning, he reminded himself. From her next move, he believed that he had managed to keep the worry from his face.
She grinned and pulled the blankets down a little further. She found another scar on his right hip, where it looked like it had been pierced by something long, thin and sharp, a blade of some kind. "What about this one?"
"A knife fight with another student, when I was rather young." He turned and grinned at her. "But you should have seen the other guy." He tried to suppress it, but they both started laughing.
He rolled on his side to face her, and drew her close, pressing her face against his chest. He wondered, what will happen in the morning? What if there is only this night? He brought her head up to touch her forehead to his, and then he kissed her, gently at first, then with increasing passion. There was still plenty of night left. And maybe, he promised himself, some of the morning, before I have to tell her. This second time, they were able to continue their exploration of each other before need consumed them. With Mercy sleeping peacefully beside him, Auron realized that he now knew the answer to his earlier question. The difference between having sex and making love was so very simple. He pressed his lips against his lover's forehead, and smiled gently. Joy. That was the difference.
…Spira…Macalania Travel Agency
Auron lay awake alone, in a cold, empty bed, at the Macalania Travel Agency. He was so aroused; it was almost as painful as the ache in his heart. I must be the only man in Spira who has erotic dreams of his own…he groaned, but instead of finishing the thought, he got out of bed, and dressed, and went to stand outside in the bitter cold night.
End Chapter Nine