The dark cloud surrounds you, and you gasp as you breathe in, feeling your arms and legs stiffen. Everything is black now, and all you can feel is the dampness of the mist against your bare skin.
The first time you did this - at your insistence - you were afraid, although you hid it well behind a mask of impatience. Your mind raced - spurred on by the effects of the magic - and your heart pounded in your chest. All you could do was wiggle your fingers and toes, and when Quistis spoke to you it was as if she had spoken from a great distance away. But the panic passed soon enough, and now you've done this often enough that you've become somewhat accustomed to it. Your heart pounds now, but only with anticipation.
"Xu? Are you all right?" Her voice echoes in your ears. It would seem an odd question to anyone who might see you, but you're used to it, by now. This was what you wanted, a way to give up your constant urge to control, to stop commanding and allow yourself to simply feel.
You tap your fingers against the bed. It's the only way that you have to communicate, and it works well enough, as a signal. You've created a complicated pattern that serves as a safeword, although you've yet to need to use it. Quistis insisted upon it in the first place; she was so terrified of hurting you, afraid that she wouldn't be able to exert enough control over her powers to prevent the toxic Marlboro venom from seeping into the darkness.
You've both learned a bit since then, but she still insists on making sure that you're all right before she touches you. You feel the light touch of her lips against your skin as she kisses your neck, each one amplified by the loss of your sight and the subtle twisting of your mind into something entirely new and different.
You can't moan, or lean into her touches. The magic has taken that away from you. But your fingers dig into the sheets beside you, and your breathing quickens as her mouth moves from your neck to the light curve of your breasts, and the soft moan she makes in her own throat assures you that she knows exactly what that means.
Give Up Control (FFVIII, Quistis/Xu, NSFW)
The dark cloud surrounds you, and you gasp as you breathe in, feeling your arms and legs stiffen. Everything is black now, and all you can feel is the dampness of the mist against your bare skin.
The first time you did this - at your insistence - you were afraid, although you hid it well behind a mask of impatience. Your mind raced - spurred on by the effects of the magic - and your heart pounded in your chest. All you could do was wiggle your fingers and toes, and when Quistis spoke to you it was as if she had spoken from a great distance away. But the panic passed soon enough, and now you've done this often enough that you've become somewhat accustomed to it. Your heart pounds now, but only with anticipation.
"Xu? Are you all right?" Her voice echoes in your ears. It would seem an odd question to anyone who might see you, but you're used to it, by now. This was what you wanted, a way to give up your constant urge to control, to stop commanding and allow yourself to simply feel.
You tap your fingers against the bed. It's the only way that you have to communicate, and it works well enough, as a signal. You've created a complicated pattern that serves as a safeword, although you've yet to need to use it. Quistis insisted upon it in the first place; she was so terrified of hurting you, afraid that she wouldn't be able to exert enough control over her powers to prevent the toxic Marlboro venom from seeping into the darkness.
You've both learned a bit since then, but she still insists on making sure that you're all right before she touches you. You feel the light touch of her lips against your skin as she kisses your neck, each one amplified by the loss of your sight and the subtle twisting of your mind into something entirely new and different.
You can't moan, or lean into her touches. The magic has taken that away from you. But your fingers dig into the sheets beside you, and your breathing quickens as her mouth moves from your neck to the light curve of your breasts, and the soft moan she makes in her own throat assures you that she knows exactly what that means.