Final Fantasy XII, Penelo/Basch, accidents happen They’d all become close in the way that Penelo heard soldiers become: a unspoken familiarity from months in the field. They worked together as a single organism — twelve legs knowing where to run, twelve arms knowing how to attack — and as they merged into a singular being, self-consciousness during routine necessities slipped away. Carrying the unconscious away from battle, tending wounds, bathing in the open, sleeping together in the same small tent were part and parcel of ordinary existence.
Penelo now thought nothing of sharing the same tin bowl of stew with Ashe or seeing Balthier’s naked backside. The twitch of Fran’s ears remaining alert brought comfort whenever she dug a small hole for a latrine. Vaan’s restless kicks in the middle of the night were expected.
But she knew it a lie to say she thought nothing whenever she pressed herself against Basch’s warm body. Her nightly excuse was that she felt cold after the sun set and the winds began to blow. Basch appeared to accept her words with no more thought than he gave to the direction of the rising sun.
After all, they had all become very close.
+++
Vaan’s laughter cut through conversation outside the tent.
Sheltered within, the smell of wood smoke on Penelo’s hair is strong; it falls across her face as the ridge of her cheekbone rests on top muscle and bone: the side of Basch’s chest. Not entirely comfortable.
She moves ‘til the sound of his heart beats below her ear. A lazy arm shifts to accommodate her; a warm hand rubs her back, her side, her arm, and then drops back to the ground.
“Penelo, get some sleep.” His voice a tired slur of mumbled words.
“I will.”
Saliva cracks within Basch’s mouth. “I doubt I make a comfortable pillow.”
“Not true.” Penelo adjusts the taut angle of her neck, the ache in her shoulders.
“You fidget much for someone who claims to be comfortable.” His words run together, a sleepy jumble.
She wriggles down, pressing her cheek against his stomach; shoulder to the ground beside his waist, arm across his hips, ankle hooking his leg. Comfortable. Comfortable and warm. If Basch would let her, she could stay like this forever, drowsy and content.
But for the soft sound of his breath he is silent.
Her wrist rests upon his hip bone, poking up along the waistband of his worn cotton pajamas. The side of her forearm presses against—
She swallows. Her muscles freeze.
She should move away but she remains; he remains still. Still, except for what can only be the head of his cock, poking out from underneath fabric, pressing firmly into her arm’s flesh. If simple heat and pressure could make a sound, this would be deafening.
Accidents happen.
But accidents are only accidents as long as they remain unintentional. Penelo slowly draws her elbow down, drawing it back toward his hip, letting the tip of his erection slowly brush along the side of her arm until the heel of her hand rests on top of hot skin, half exposed.
She can feel him breathing beneath her, slowly breathing. Calm. He’s still calm as her hand inches further down, fingers and palm cupping hot flesh. She waits. Feels a small twitch; holds her breath.
She lifts her fingers and she can see it: dark pink and searching, so close she hardly needs to move to leave a kiss.
She lets her lips linger. He remains calm.
After her tongue circles twice, his cock slips into her mouth; her fingers duck under the slackened drawstring, following his length down to coarse hairs, down to his scrotal sack, stroking gently.
Lips move, tongue slides, fingers curl over her saliva and the heat of his flesh. No longer still, his pelvis rocks, slightly; his breath hitches, he quietly moans.
No longer an accident. She stops for a moment. Turns; looks at him.
+++
A few minutes later when thinking back, she should’ve continued until he came instead of stopping to look at his face. She saw his eyes wide with pleasure, surprise, shame, and then he scrambled back and stood, one hand covering his crotch, the other tugging his drawstring tight. Gasping, he stumbled out of the tent without looking back.
She should have continued without stopping, but now she knows. Knows for next time.
His fragrance lingers on her fingers, on her lips.