Kvar/Lloyd challenge fic
folder
+S through Z › Tales of Symphonia
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,299
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+S through Z › Tales of Symphonia
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,299
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Tales of Symphonia, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 3
Hi 123,
Sorry this took so long. This is the first half of part 3 of the LloydKvar challenge. I will try to post the second half of this soon. Thank you for patiently waiting.
Lloyd’s POV
At first I saw him as a rival, cool stoic features staring me down, sharp eyes cataloguing my every move, commenting, “Your swordsmanship is unrefined. If you value your life, you will close off your defenses.” What a cocky bastard, I thought, seeing me as a liability on the Chosen’s journey of world regeneration.
After much criticism from Professor Sage, I decided to train with him outside Palmacosta confessing, “The truth is that I always wanted an older brother to practice swordsmanship with, Kratos. You are so like one.” That was then. Now, he, the silent mercenary became more.
Feelings unspoken, never voice burned deep inside my heart, buried under instinct, harbored in my soul joined deep to his. Every time he stares, ruby irises fluttering over me, my heart skips, my body tingles. The few times we trained his lithe body brushed mine. I felt uncomfortable down between my hips. Had Kratos noticed my impending arousal, my straining flesh held prisoner in my clothes?
“Excuse me!” I cried out, making lame excuses I needed rest or a drink of water to avoid bodily contact, so my stupid body wouldn’t ruin our new founded intimacy.
I suppose blades clashing, steel clanging, sweat dropping, boot heels grinding into wet earth during dueling is intimacy, at least the testosterone driven species between fellow rivals and comrades. Manly silence prohibits us from speaking, channeling our feelings into aggression, competition or the like. No wonder we guys have difficulty telling a girl “I love you” and mean it when we are so driven by sex.
To fight over females, to spread one’s seed, pass down one’s genes; is that the meaning of male existence? I don’t have Genis’s brains or Professor Sage’s research expertise to answer that scientific, I suppose philosophical question. Hell, I can’t even do my multiplication tables, as Genis kindly pointed at the Palmacosta Academy. I’m dumb, how am I supposed to say ‘I love you, Kratos?’ with intelligence, much less to a guy?
Yeah, Kratos would kick my ass if I dared show any hint. He’s that tough kind of guy you can’t read, the harsh quiet type whose shadow I wouldn’t dare tread. That night outside Triet I followed him out, he nearly slit my throat, lightning fast reflexes of godly speed whistling through wind. His cruel, cold metal biting my throat if I said, “I love you, Kratos,” I’d probably get.
After releasing the second seal at the Thoda Geyser, I couldn’t take it. I felt like that very Gyser, my watery surface iced over. Heat welling from deep beneath the earth’s surface, boiling me, expanding me, driving me up, I cried writhing under the ice. At last, when a second late passed, bursting mad from pressure, I cracked the ice above, my molten core melting, soul shattered, I might say “I love you, Kratos” finally soaring free. A hormone raging teenager, living on instinct, my first time in love, what was I to do?
When the sunk sank in the Western sky, casting fiery tones over the ocean in a dance of light turning it orange, soft golden hues warming Thoda Island, lighting the sand yellow, I observed spectators hustle by the dock, wading away in silly washtubs back to the lazy continent’s shore. Genis had shoved Raine in one tub, grinning wickedly, for all the times he slapped her. Wearing her usual smile, Colette followed after in a tub of her own, leaving only my rival and mentor behind. Just the two of us on this tiny island offshore, if he killed me, no one would ever know.
Since we released the seal of water, the geyser died down rendering it safe for bathers to enter. Just think, the star studded sky blanketed in diamonds, heaven’s vault come alive, the moon showering silver down on all the land below, briny sea air wafting over, relaxing alone in a hot spring at the end of the world, washing away my worries, nothing else is paradise. So that’s what I did.
Tugging off my gloves, I dropped them casually beneath wooden changing stalls right out the hot springs. I slid off my suspenders tossing them aside as well. I smiled, studying moonlight dancing in the depths of my sapphire Ex-sphere gem, how nice it felt to be alone. I took my time, allowing my hands to roam down my torso, idly yanking buttons out of my red jacket holes as I went. I at least bothered to fold that in a neat pile on some wash buckets, then peeling off my tight constricting tank top. The feel of slick fabric rubbing across my bare skin, teasing, gathering as it slid sent shivers up my spine, making me imagine it was Kratos’s burning touch.
Ah, how pathetic I am, dreaming about something that can never be, a fantasy woven of gossamer threads into euphoric visions that exist only in my poor, intoxicated mind. Lloyd, what a fool you are driven by empty dreams, but then, how can people gather the courage to survive in this dying world of Sylvarant? Letting myself live in delusion, trapped in sweet illusion, I pretended my hands were Kratos’s. Naked from the waist up, the hands I wanted to be Kratos’s played across sculpted arms, running back up ever so slowly, tingles rippling through, I called his name, “Kratos” in a whisper caught in my throat.
His name turned to a sigh escaping my lips, an unbidden fantasy come true if only night might catch day and sky fell far to earth. Pinching my nipples lightly, their dusky texture hardened, firm under fingertips ghosting above. Blood pressure rising, heart pounding, pulse beating, tension coiled in my stomach, in the pit above my groin setting me afire. My hips twitched, inner thighs heating fast, once again my arousal became a prisoner of my clothes. Hissing, in a cadence low and shaky like the lull of waves I hear, sweat strong like the scent of hot springs sulfur I smell, I tore off the belts crisscrossing my hips that held my scabbards almost violently, buckles that fastened them snapped.
At last I would free my prisoner, the organ of my existence, always an inch in front of me hidden that led me. I moaned, uttering a wordless cry of pleasure from the sensation of pants worked down over my sensitive member. Pants wriggled to my knees, I could go a step further pretending Kratos pumped my erection in the hand I wished was his. Sighing heavily, my excitement dropped, I wistfully shook my head.
“No, let phantoms be phantoms, no use wanting what can’t be,” I murmured, my sullen visage falling in the hot springs up ahead.
“…You seem well,” a deep base voice called, steady in rhythm and melodic flowed out.
“Kratos!” I cried, reaching for my scabbards, only to tumble back with my erection fully exposed. Dammit, I never felt so dumb I wanted to die before the very man I loved.
TBC
Sorry this took so long. This is the first half of part 3 of the LloydKvar challenge. I will try to post the second half of this soon. Thank you for patiently waiting.
Lloyd’s POV
At first I saw him as a rival, cool stoic features staring me down, sharp eyes cataloguing my every move, commenting, “Your swordsmanship is unrefined. If you value your life, you will close off your defenses.” What a cocky bastard, I thought, seeing me as a liability on the Chosen’s journey of world regeneration.
After much criticism from Professor Sage, I decided to train with him outside Palmacosta confessing, “The truth is that I always wanted an older brother to practice swordsmanship with, Kratos. You are so like one.” That was then. Now, he, the silent mercenary became more.
Feelings unspoken, never voice burned deep inside my heart, buried under instinct, harbored in my soul joined deep to his. Every time he stares, ruby irises fluttering over me, my heart skips, my body tingles. The few times we trained his lithe body brushed mine. I felt uncomfortable down between my hips. Had Kratos noticed my impending arousal, my straining flesh held prisoner in my clothes?
“Excuse me!” I cried out, making lame excuses I needed rest or a drink of water to avoid bodily contact, so my stupid body wouldn’t ruin our new founded intimacy.
I suppose blades clashing, steel clanging, sweat dropping, boot heels grinding into wet earth during dueling is intimacy, at least the testosterone driven species between fellow rivals and comrades. Manly silence prohibits us from speaking, channeling our feelings into aggression, competition or the like. No wonder we guys have difficulty telling a girl “I love you” and mean it when we are so driven by sex.
To fight over females, to spread one’s seed, pass down one’s genes; is that the meaning of male existence? I don’t have Genis’s brains or Professor Sage’s research expertise to answer that scientific, I suppose philosophical question. Hell, I can’t even do my multiplication tables, as Genis kindly pointed at the Palmacosta Academy. I’m dumb, how am I supposed to say ‘I love you, Kratos?’ with intelligence, much less to a guy?
Yeah, Kratos would kick my ass if I dared show any hint. He’s that tough kind of guy you can’t read, the harsh quiet type whose shadow I wouldn’t dare tread. That night outside Triet I followed him out, he nearly slit my throat, lightning fast reflexes of godly speed whistling through wind. His cruel, cold metal biting my throat if I said, “I love you, Kratos,” I’d probably get.
After releasing the second seal at the Thoda Geyser, I couldn’t take it. I felt like that very Gyser, my watery surface iced over. Heat welling from deep beneath the earth’s surface, boiling me, expanding me, driving me up, I cried writhing under the ice. At last, when a second late passed, bursting mad from pressure, I cracked the ice above, my molten core melting, soul shattered, I might say “I love you, Kratos” finally soaring free. A hormone raging teenager, living on instinct, my first time in love, what was I to do?
When the sunk sank in the Western sky, casting fiery tones over the ocean in a dance of light turning it orange, soft golden hues warming Thoda Island, lighting the sand yellow, I observed spectators hustle by the dock, wading away in silly washtubs back to the lazy continent’s shore. Genis had shoved Raine in one tub, grinning wickedly, for all the times he slapped her. Wearing her usual smile, Colette followed after in a tub of her own, leaving only my rival and mentor behind. Just the two of us on this tiny island offshore, if he killed me, no one would ever know.
Since we released the seal of water, the geyser died down rendering it safe for bathers to enter. Just think, the star studded sky blanketed in diamonds, heaven’s vault come alive, the moon showering silver down on all the land below, briny sea air wafting over, relaxing alone in a hot spring at the end of the world, washing away my worries, nothing else is paradise. So that’s what I did.
Tugging off my gloves, I dropped them casually beneath wooden changing stalls right out the hot springs. I slid off my suspenders tossing them aside as well. I smiled, studying moonlight dancing in the depths of my sapphire Ex-sphere gem, how nice it felt to be alone. I took my time, allowing my hands to roam down my torso, idly yanking buttons out of my red jacket holes as I went. I at least bothered to fold that in a neat pile on some wash buckets, then peeling off my tight constricting tank top. The feel of slick fabric rubbing across my bare skin, teasing, gathering as it slid sent shivers up my spine, making me imagine it was Kratos’s burning touch.
Ah, how pathetic I am, dreaming about something that can never be, a fantasy woven of gossamer threads into euphoric visions that exist only in my poor, intoxicated mind. Lloyd, what a fool you are driven by empty dreams, but then, how can people gather the courage to survive in this dying world of Sylvarant? Letting myself live in delusion, trapped in sweet illusion, I pretended my hands were Kratos’s. Naked from the waist up, the hands I wanted to be Kratos’s played across sculpted arms, running back up ever so slowly, tingles rippling through, I called his name, “Kratos” in a whisper caught in my throat.
His name turned to a sigh escaping my lips, an unbidden fantasy come true if only night might catch day and sky fell far to earth. Pinching my nipples lightly, their dusky texture hardened, firm under fingertips ghosting above. Blood pressure rising, heart pounding, pulse beating, tension coiled in my stomach, in the pit above my groin setting me afire. My hips twitched, inner thighs heating fast, once again my arousal became a prisoner of my clothes. Hissing, in a cadence low and shaky like the lull of waves I hear, sweat strong like the scent of hot springs sulfur I smell, I tore off the belts crisscrossing my hips that held my scabbards almost violently, buckles that fastened them snapped.
At last I would free my prisoner, the organ of my existence, always an inch in front of me hidden that led me. I moaned, uttering a wordless cry of pleasure from the sensation of pants worked down over my sensitive member. Pants wriggled to my knees, I could go a step further pretending Kratos pumped my erection in the hand I wished was his. Sighing heavily, my excitement dropped, I wistfully shook my head.
“No, let phantoms be phantoms, no use wanting what can’t be,” I murmured, my sullen visage falling in the hot springs up ahead.
“…You seem well,” a deep base voice called, steady in rhythm and melodic flowed out.
“Kratos!” I cried, reaching for my scabbards, only to tumble back with my erection fully exposed. Dammit, I never felt so dumb I wanted to die before the very man I loved.
TBC