fic: A Long Time Coming
Mar. 29th, 2009 01:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: A Long Time Coming
Series: FE10 | Tellius
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren
Rating: R/NC-17
Word Count: 1,842
A/N: Misplaced comment fic for the kink meme This was supposed to be waaay shorter. Also, an amusing point – it took almost five people (and google) to figure out whether come floated on water or not. It took asking a guy, a kinky girl, a kinkier girl, an even kinkier girl and finally another guy to find out the answer. Not actually having a penis, I have to research these things carefully, you see!
The title is simultaneously a cheesy take on the length of love AND a spectacularly bad perverted pun all at once. Obviously that means I love it.
--
He’d picked a far off pool in the woods which was covered in enough foliage to provide adequate privacy. He had a deep dislike for people, and even more of a dislike if he was unclothed and by all means, without any protection. He didn’t care for the sort of bawdy talk that got thrown about, or the towel snapping Kieran was prone to doing.
And if plans had permitted, it would have been entirely unremarkable. He would have cleaned himself and dressed in his clean clothes and gone to finish the last duties before bed. But just as Soren had gotten out a soap, he head a splash not too far from him. The twilight hid him, but he recognized Ike as soon as he surfaced. Ike had already peeled off his clothes before he dove in, and now that body that wooed a thousand women by merely existing was in front of him.
Soren hadn’t meant to spy, the area had originally been deserted, and he had been alone. He hadn’t counted on the fact that Ike would take a late bath as well, or that Ike being Ike wouldn’t check the pool of water for earlier occupants. Then again, the rest of the troupe was perfectly fine with bathing with their comrades, given they were the same gender. It was just Soren who felt the need to exile himself away from the rest of the crowd. Soren knew logically that only Gatrie or Shinon would ever remark on his physique or heckle him, but he still didn’t wish for company when he was in truth all but defenseless.
Soren felt feverish. He was not given to such exaggerations but his head was reeling and despite the cool water, his skin burnt. The details, the pyrexia all lead to something deep and uncurable, but this was no mere illness. It was love, or something close to it. He wasn’t used to the all-consuming lust, and it flooded over him like a deadly jungle sickness. Soren wasn’t used to wanting this much.
Soren tried to turn his thoughts away to mundane things. Numbers, leaders, equations. Such attempts failed as his eyes strayed back to where Ike had begun to lather and wash over his broad, muscled chest. His hair was wet, and Ike shook his head to rid himself of the dampness, much like an animal. It was beyond endearing, it could melt ice and almost bring something like a smile to Soren’s face.
He’d seen Ike naked before, of course, this had been when they were much younger before, long before Ike had grown and before Soren had found himself gazing at Ike with different eyes.
Having finished washing his arms, chest and neck, Ike took the bar of soap again and worked up a lather and started working on his lower abdomen..and lower. Ike’s attention to hygiene was commendable, apparently Soren’s influence had run through. Except Soren realized that coming alone might have not just been schedule issues. Ike was a man now, and as a man he too had needs, needs that weren’t being filled elsewhere. Soren would know. He pushed himself into every aspect of Ike’s life. Ike couldn’t spend too long behind a tree without Soren knowing.
Ike washed in circles, an attention that by now clearly wasn’t simply for cleanliness’ sake. Soren watched on, hypnotized, unable to tear his gaze away. Ike groaned in between the circles his fingers were making. His eyes were shuttered. Soren let out a sound – like air escaping from his lungs, a soft moan. Ike looked up from his lathering and met Soren’s frozen gaze before Soren wrenched himself away and turned to stare at a tree. His hair tumbled from where he had pinned it, and the dark tresses fell down, already heavy from the weight of the water.
“Soren?”
Soren shrunk back, every muscle in his body rigid and tense.
“I didn’t see you there,” Ike said.
Soren said nothing. He didn’t trust his tongue. The situation was awkward enough as it was.
The silence spread through them. Soren turned away as he was, couldn’t see Ike’s face and couldn’t sense his reactions. He had certainly revealed too much of himself here, the traces of his longing would be obvious even to someone as obtuse as Ike.
Soren got up to leave, his wet hair trailing behind him.
“Wait, Soren. Did you finish washing?” Ike said.
Ike had come just as Soren had withdrawn the bar of soap. He had barely pinned up his hair before Ike had jumped in, displacing water and leaving ripples over more than just the surface of the pool of water.
“...No.”
“Come here. I’ll wash your back.”
Soren swallowed and did as he was asked. A tactician always listened to his commander, whatever the circumstances were. Soren refused to look up from a corner that only gave him a sideways glance to the chiseled body beside him. Ike wrung out Soren’s hair and repinned it at the nape of his neck.
Soren let out a breath as he felt Ike’s hands against his too-hot skin. Soap lather and maddening circles, it was enough to be dizzying. He bit his lip to keep from moaning and thought of the complexity of tree bark to keep from rocking back into his commander’s body.
There was lava caught under his skin, that was the only explanation. Blood couldn’t flow to this degree. He tried to be controlled, and not to writhe against Ike, but that was what he desperately wanted. Bodily contact. More. Touch. Everything.
“Please...” Soren gasped.
Somewhere along the line Ike had figured something out, even if it had only been seconds before. He’d grown into a man and Soren had missed the deeper motions of this. Ike pulled him close and kissed the nape of his neck .
“Here, I’ll wash you,” Ike said. His voice was soft, affectionate, even.
Soren leaned into him, and felt not just the firmness of his body, but also the rigid heat of Ike’s swollen member against him. Ike had been waiting patiently, waiting for who knew how long. Waiting for Soren to arrive at the same place he’d reached. Waiting.
Soren couldn’t quite bite out an gasp of nnnn when Ike’s fingers curled about his member. It was bliss. He gasped as he thrust into Ike’s tight, yet gentle grip, jutting back and forth between Ike’s body and the handhold about him. Soren was aware of every bead of water on his skin, every breath, his or Ike’s. It didn’t take him long to come. When he did it was palatable ecstasy, his body shuddered for a moment, the heat overtaking him. Had Ike not held him up, Soren might have slipped into the water.
It’d been too long, too many cold, dark nights spent by himself. Ike’s hands were sticky and white, and not all from the soap. He didn’t seem to mind the come, but dipped his hands beneath the water more for Soren’s sake than his own.
The water had grown to more of a difference now. The utmost heat his body had gone through made the cold even more marked. Soren shivered, but he couldn’t tell if the cause was sheer cold, or the over tumultuous factors.
“Yours, too..” he breathed.
Ike had waited all his time for him.
Soren’s hair had come undone again, and it clung to his back. Ike touched it again, lovingly running his fingers through the inky tresses. Soren leaned in, and nestled against Ike’s chest as he did. He kissed and licked against that wonderful wet skin, and then leaned up for a handhold to grab Ike’s lips themselves. It was all so new, and his body ached for it. He ached for every bit of Ike, down to the last pore.
Soren reached down and let his fingers slide over Ike’s own arousal. It throbbed in his hands. His maneuvers did not come as naturally as Ike’s had for his. Soren kept wanting to touch elsewhere, to feel and memorize everything. Though Ike was admittedly, plenty well endowed, he wanted to feel and taste everything else too.
Ike didn’t take long to come either. He’d been waiting and holding on for so long, just for the last touch of Soren’s to bring that release. Soren’s hands too were sticky and white then. He absently washed them and noticed with some disgust that the come floated about on top of the water. Soon it dispersed and began to sink under the waves. A fish would probably eat it. He pushed that thought from his mind, and focused instead on Ike again.
Soren wanted to kiss him. He wanted to lay his hands on Ike’s chest and feel and push him down into the shallows and start all over again. He wanted.
But there was a lifetime to want, a lifetime to swim in the shallows. Things had to be attended to. There was no need for talk, for they simply were now. Their relationship was pliant; it bent to accommodate this new acquisition with ease.
“They’ll miss us if we’re gone any longer,” Soren said instead.
“Yeah,” Ike sighed. Soren couldn’t quite tell if it was a sigh of pleasure or annoyance. Perhaps both.
Soren wrung dry his hair again, as it had come undone during their loving. Neither had gotten very clean by this excursion, and may have in the end left dirtier than they had arrived. And for once Soren couldn’t be bothered be aggravated by this. Perhaps this was what love, or at least the physical expression of it did to one. If so, then Soren could manage to be inconvenienced like this for quite some time, perhaps until his dying breath.
Not wishing to dirty his clean clothes, he changed back into his previous robes. The black skirts clung to the back of his legs. Ike dressed too, but he apparently hadn’t brought a spare. Soren still had much to teach him in the way of hygiene. He had so much to teach Ike, and even to learn from. So much, so much, so much.
So little time to fill it in with.
Ike hiked back to the camp and Soren followed after him. A staff officer always follows his commander’s lead. Soren was no exception.
Series: FE10 | Tellius
Character/Pairing: Ike/Soren
Rating: R/NC-17
Word Count: 1,842
A/N: Misplaced comment fic for the kink meme This was supposed to be waaay shorter. Also, an amusing point – it took almost five people (and google) to figure out whether come floated on water or not. It took asking a guy, a kinky girl, a kinkier girl, an even kinkier girl and finally another guy to find out the answer. Not actually having a penis, I have to research these things carefully, you see!
The title is simultaneously a cheesy take on the length of love AND a spectacularly bad perverted pun all at once. Obviously that means I love it.
--
He’d picked a far off pool in the woods which was covered in enough foliage to provide adequate privacy. He had a deep dislike for people, and even more of a dislike if he was unclothed and by all means, without any protection. He didn’t care for the sort of bawdy talk that got thrown about, or the towel snapping Kieran was prone to doing.
And if plans had permitted, it would have been entirely unremarkable. He would have cleaned himself and dressed in his clean clothes and gone to finish the last duties before bed. But just as Soren had gotten out a soap, he head a splash not too far from him. The twilight hid him, but he recognized Ike as soon as he surfaced. Ike had already peeled off his clothes before he dove in, and now that body that wooed a thousand women by merely existing was in front of him.
Soren hadn’t meant to spy, the area had originally been deserted, and he had been alone. He hadn’t counted on the fact that Ike would take a late bath as well, or that Ike being Ike wouldn’t check the pool of water for earlier occupants. Then again, the rest of the troupe was perfectly fine with bathing with their comrades, given they were the same gender. It was just Soren who felt the need to exile himself away from the rest of the crowd. Soren knew logically that only Gatrie or Shinon would ever remark on his physique or heckle him, but he still didn’t wish for company when he was in truth all but defenseless.
Soren felt feverish. He was not given to such exaggerations but his head was reeling and despite the cool water, his skin burnt. The details, the pyrexia all lead to something deep and uncurable, but this was no mere illness. It was love, or something close to it. He wasn’t used to the all-consuming lust, and it flooded over him like a deadly jungle sickness. Soren wasn’t used to wanting this much.
Soren tried to turn his thoughts away to mundane things. Numbers, leaders, equations. Such attempts failed as his eyes strayed back to where Ike had begun to lather and wash over his broad, muscled chest. His hair was wet, and Ike shook his head to rid himself of the dampness, much like an animal. It was beyond endearing, it could melt ice and almost bring something like a smile to Soren’s face.
He’d seen Ike naked before, of course, this had been when they were much younger before, long before Ike had grown and before Soren had found himself gazing at Ike with different eyes.
Having finished washing his arms, chest and neck, Ike took the bar of soap again and worked up a lather and started working on his lower abdomen..and lower. Ike’s attention to hygiene was commendable, apparently Soren’s influence had run through. Except Soren realized that coming alone might have not just been schedule issues. Ike was a man now, and as a man he too had needs, needs that weren’t being filled elsewhere. Soren would know. He pushed himself into every aspect of Ike’s life. Ike couldn’t spend too long behind a tree without Soren knowing.
Ike washed in circles, an attention that by now clearly wasn’t simply for cleanliness’ sake. Soren watched on, hypnotized, unable to tear his gaze away. Ike groaned in between the circles his fingers were making. His eyes were shuttered. Soren let out a sound – like air escaping from his lungs, a soft moan. Ike looked up from his lathering and met Soren’s frozen gaze before Soren wrenched himself away and turned to stare at a tree. His hair tumbled from where he had pinned it, and the dark tresses fell down, already heavy from the weight of the water.
“Soren?”
Soren shrunk back, every muscle in his body rigid and tense.
“I didn’t see you there,” Ike said.
Soren said nothing. He didn’t trust his tongue. The situation was awkward enough as it was.
The silence spread through them. Soren turned away as he was, couldn’t see Ike’s face and couldn’t sense his reactions. He had certainly revealed too much of himself here, the traces of his longing would be obvious even to someone as obtuse as Ike.
Soren got up to leave, his wet hair trailing behind him.
“Wait, Soren. Did you finish washing?” Ike said.
Ike had come just as Soren had withdrawn the bar of soap. He had barely pinned up his hair before Ike had jumped in, displacing water and leaving ripples over more than just the surface of the pool of water.
“...No.”
“Come here. I’ll wash your back.”
Soren swallowed and did as he was asked. A tactician always listened to his commander, whatever the circumstances were. Soren refused to look up from a corner that only gave him a sideways glance to the chiseled body beside him. Ike wrung out Soren’s hair and repinned it at the nape of his neck.
Soren let out a breath as he felt Ike’s hands against his too-hot skin. Soap lather and maddening circles, it was enough to be dizzying. He bit his lip to keep from moaning and thought of the complexity of tree bark to keep from rocking back into his commander’s body.
There was lava caught under his skin, that was the only explanation. Blood couldn’t flow to this degree. He tried to be controlled, and not to writhe against Ike, but that was what he desperately wanted. Bodily contact. More. Touch. Everything.
“Please...” Soren gasped.
Somewhere along the line Ike had figured something out, even if it had only been seconds before. He’d grown into a man and Soren had missed the deeper motions of this. Ike pulled him close and kissed the nape of his neck .
“Here, I’ll wash you,” Ike said. His voice was soft, affectionate, even.
Soren leaned into him, and felt not just the firmness of his body, but also the rigid heat of Ike’s swollen member against him. Ike had been waiting patiently, waiting for who knew how long. Waiting for Soren to arrive at the same place he’d reached. Waiting.
Soren couldn’t quite bite out an gasp of nnnn when Ike’s fingers curled about his member. It was bliss. He gasped as he thrust into Ike’s tight, yet gentle grip, jutting back and forth between Ike’s body and the handhold about him. Soren was aware of every bead of water on his skin, every breath, his or Ike’s. It didn’t take him long to come. When he did it was palatable ecstasy, his body shuddered for a moment, the heat overtaking him. Had Ike not held him up, Soren might have slipped into the water.
It’d been too long, too many cold, dark nights spent by himself. Ike’s hands were sticky and white, and not all from the soap. He didn’t seem to mind the come, but dipped his hands beneath the water more for Soren’s sake than his own.
The water had grown to more of a difference now. The utmost heat his body had gone through made the cold even more marked. Soren shivered, but he couldn’t tell if the cause was sheer cold, or the over tumultuous factors.
“Yours, too..” he breathed.
Ike had waited all his time for him.
Soren’s hair had come undone again, and it clung to his back. Ike touched it again, lovingly running his fingers through the inky tresses. Soren leaned in, and nestled against Ike’s chest as he did. He kissed and licked against that wonderful wet skin, and then leaned up for a handhold to grab Ike’s lips themselves. It was all so new, and his body ached for it. He ached for every bit of Ike, down to the last pore.
Soren reached down and let his fingers slide over Ike’s own arousal. It throbbed in his hands. His maneuvers did not come as naturally as Ike’s had for his. Soren kept wanting to touch elsewhere, to feel and memorize everything. Though Ike was admittedly, plenty well endowed, he wanted to feel and taste everything else too.
Ike didn’t take long to come either. He’d been waiting and holding on for so long, just for the last touch of Soren’s to bring that release. Soren’s hands too were sticky and white then. He absently washed them and noticed with some disgust that the come floated about on top of the water. Soon it dispersed and began to sink under the waves. A fish would probably eat it. He pushed that thought from his mind, and focused instead on Ike again.
Soren wanted to kiss him. He wanted to lay his hands on Ike’s chest and feel and push him down into the shallows and start all over again. He wanted.
But there was a lifetime to want, a lifetime to swim in the shallows. Things had to be attended to. There was no need for talk, for they simply were now. Their relationship was pliant; it bent to accommodate this new acquisition with ease.
“They’ll miss us if we’re gone any longer,” Soren said instead.
“Yeah,” Ike sighed. Soren couldn’t quite tell if it was a sigh of pleasure or annoyance. Perhaps both.
Soren wrung dry his hair again, as it had come undone during their loving. Neither had gotten very clean by this excursion, and may have in the end left dirtier than they had arrived. And for once Soren couldn’t be bothered be aggravated by this. Perhaps this was what love, or at least the physical expression of it did to one. If so, then Soren could manage to be inconvenienced like this for quite some time, perhaps until his dying breath.
Not wishing to dirty his clean clothes, he changed back into his previous robes. The black skirts clung to the back of his legs. Ike dressed too, but he apparently hadn’t brought a spare. Soren still had much to teach him in the way of hygiene. He had so much to teach Ike, and even to learn from. So much, so much, so much.
So little time to fill it in with.
Ike hiked back to the camp and Soren followed after him. A staff officer always follows his commander’s lead. Soren was no exception.
