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fandomweekly2025-08-21 08:53 am
the_paradigm) wrote in fandomweekly2025-08-21 08:53 am
Entry tags:
[140] Her First Choice (Final Fantasy XII)
Title: Her First Choice
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Author:the_paradigm
Characters/Pairing: Penelo, Tomaj, and an absent third party.
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-descriptive/implicit sexual content; semi-realistic first-times; age gap fantasies.
Word Count: 983
Spoilers/Setting: Post-Canon OGC and Revenant Wings, but no real spoilers.
Summary: Some girls viewed their first time as something to cherish.
Disclaimer: I do not own FFXII or its characters.
Challenge: #140 - Learning Lessons (Amnesty 027)
Tomaj, though her first, was not her first choice. She had not been his either; she watched from the sidelines as he flirted shamelessly with Fran—who paid him absolutely no heed—and then when it became painfully apparent he had no chance with the Viera, he thought perhaps he would have better luck with the Queen. Tomaj, though hardworking and ambitious, was arrogant and shameless and more than a bit narcissistic, and he was not her first choice.
But he was her first. She knew she was plain-faced and quiet, but she was also brave and had her own goals and dreams, and she had just spent the previous year blossoming and protecting all of Ivalice, and that was worth something.
It was, unfortunately, worth too much to the one who would have been her first choice.
And so here she was, in Tomaj’s apartment above the Sandsea, the night before her and Vaan’s departure to Rozarria, ever in search for more loot, more adventure, more.
“Is this your first time?” he asked, and not without concern, but Penelo could see the glint in his eye—he asked for himself, and not for her.
“No,” she lied with a confident laugh, and she was sure he believed it. He—not knowing them that well—could easily assume that Penelo had given herself to Reks before his death, given their closeness and the way Penelo freely wore her heart on her sleeve before the war. Still, it was not true, and was increasingly difficult to bluff as they stripped down their layers to bare skin.
Her first choice had seen her naked, she knew. He had caught glimpses—always on accident—and was so kind and considerate of her privacy, but she was sure he had seen. Penelo had seen him, too—stolen glances out of curiosity at first, though a few times from necessity as the party’s main healer. She remembered savoring his blushes and apologies and always asking her if she was alright whenever he had to expose himself. She remembered he saw something worth respecting, worth protecting, but he also saw her as a young girl.
Tomaj saw a means to an end, a notch in his bedpost, but at least saw something worth desiring, even if just for a night.
Penelo sighed, resigned to want this for what it was; Tomaj was handsome enough, respected enough in the community, and young enough for the union to be ‘appropriate’, whatever that meant. At this point it was between him and Vaan when it came down to age, and she had known the second they had shared that kiss in Bervenia that Vaan would never be more to her than a brother.
Her first choice was ‘too old’, by his own standards and apparently by everyone else’s from the way they laughed and brushed off how she eagerly spent her time by his side.
“I’ll go slow,” Tomaj whispered once they were together beneath the sheets, and she nodded silently, biting her lip. He grinned at her, and she realized he must have interpreted her expression as demure, coy even.
Some girls viewed their first time as something to cherish, something to share with the person with whom you were determined to spend your life. Honestly, Penelo just wanted to get it over with. She wanted to close her eyes tight and clench her jaw and brace herself for whatever she needed to do to get through the initial pain. She wanted to see how long it would take a man with at least some experience to bring her to the precipice of pleasure; she already knew how long it took to do it herself. She wanted to learn—to already know—the things she needed to know to please a man, particularly one with at least some experience. She did not want to be with an untried boy.
Her first choice was absolutely no untried boy, which is why, perhaps, even if he had wanted her, he would never deign to sully her with his war-hardened, blood-stained hands.
She gasped as Tomaj went to work, and her eyelids fluttered closed. She allowed herself to feel the sensations, to hear the sounds of her own breathing, and of his, and kept her eyes closed to the dim light of the room. Her fingers traced the contours of his arms, across his shoulders and his chest, all sparse with hair and smooth; scarless, unmarked. Penelo’s brow furrowed, and her hands clasped behind his neck, into his hair—short and coarse and wavy—but for all he tried, there was nothing along his jawline worth the razor; no sharp stubble or days old beard to scratch her delicate skin when she leaned in to kiss his cheeks, his lips. Nothing to tickle across her neck when he buried his face in her collarbone like he was home.
Still, he felt good. It felt good. And despite his ego, Tomaj was slow and gentle. The pain had been quick, and then gone, and suddenly she wished she had not worried so much about it and had let it be, let herself wait. The climax took its time, for all she clenched her eyes closed and tried to call to mind the visuals and the sounds that always got her there before.
When he whispered promises in her ear, his voice was a smooth tenor, and not a baritone that sounded like a crumbling mountainside.
And Tomaj never sang.
But now it was done. And it would get easier. The wanting would get easier, right?
He held her after, had kissed her forehead, and touched her cheek, silently beckoning her to look at him, and though she allowed herself to nuzzle him, to soak up his warmth in the stolen afterglow, she did not meet his eyes. Tomaj’s were brown, she remembered.
Not her first choice.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Author:
the_paradigmCharacters/Pairing: Penelo, Tomaj, and an absent third party.
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-descriptive/implicit sexual content; semi-realistic first-times; age gap fantasies.
Word Count: 983
Spoilers/Setting: Post-Canon OGC and Revenant Wings, but no real spoilers.
Summary: Some girls viewed their first time as something to cherish.
Disclaimer: I do not own FFXII or its characters.
Challenge: #140 - Learning Lessons (Amnesty 027)
Tomaj, though her first, was not her first choice. She had not been his either; she watched from the sidelines as he flirted shamelessly with Fran—who paid him absolutely no heed—and then when it became painfully apparent he had no chance with the Viera, he thought perhaps he would have better luck with the Queen. Tomaj, though hardworking and ambitious, was arrogant and shameless and more than a bit narcissistic, and he was not her first choice.
But he was her first. She knew she was plain-faced and quiet, but she was also brave and had her own goals and dreams, and she had just spent the previous year blossoming and protecting all of Ivalice, and that was worth something.
It was, unfortunately, worth too much to the one who would have been her first choice.
And so here she was, in Tomaj’s apartment above the Sandsea, the night before her and Vaan’s departure to Rozarria, ever in search for more loot, more adventure, more.
“Is this your first time?” he asked, and not without concern, but Penelo could see the glint in his eye—he asked for himself, and not for her.
“No,” she lied with a confident laugh, and she was sure he believed it. He—not knowing them that well—could easily assume that Penelo had given herself to Reks before his death, given their closeness and the way Penelo freely wore her heart on her sleeve before the war. Still, it was not true, and was increasingly difficult to bluff as they stripped down their layers to bare skin.
Her first choice had seen her naked, she knew. He had caught glimpses—always on accident—and was so kind and considerate of her privacy, but she was sure he had seen. Penelo had seen him, too—stolen glances out of curiosity at first, though a few times from necessity as the party’s main healer. She remembered savoring his blushes and apologies and always asking her if she was alright whenever he had to expose himself. She remembered he saw something worth respecting, worth protecting, but he also saw her as a young girl.
Tomaj saw a means to an end, a notch in his bedpost, but at least saw something worth desiring, even if just for a night.
Penelo sighed, resigned to want this for what it was; Tomaj was handsome enough, respected enough in the community, and young enough for the union to be ‘appropriate’, whatever that meant. At this point it was between him and Vaan when it came down to age, and she had known the second they had shared that kiss in Bervenia that Vaan would never be more to her than a brother.
Her first choice was ‘too old’, by his own standards and apparently by everyone else’s from the way they laughed and brushed off how she eagerly spent her time by his side.
“I’ll go slow,” Tomaj whispered once they were together beneath the sheets, and she nodded silently, biting her lip. He grinned at her, and she realized he must have interpreted her expression as demure, coy even.
Some girls viewed their first time as something to cherish, something to share with the person with whom you were determined to spend your life. Honestly, Penelo just wanted to get it over with. She wanted to close her eyes tight and clench her jaw and brace herself for whatever she needed to do to get through the initial pain. She wanted to see how long it would take a man with at least some experience to bring her to the precipice of pleasure; she already knew how long it took to do it herself. She wanted to learn—to already know—the things she needed to know to please a man, particularly one with at least some experience. She did not want to be with an untried boy.
Her first choice was absolutely no untried boy, which is why, perhaps, even if he had wanted her, he would never deign to sully her with his war-hardened, blood-stained hands.
She gasped as Tomaj went to work, and her eyelids fluttered closed. She allowed herself to feel the sensations, to hear the sounds of her own breathing, and of his, and kept her eyes closed to the dim light of the room. Her fingers traced the contours of his arms, across his shoulders and his chest, all sparse with hair and smooth; scarless, unmarked. Penelo’s brow furrowed, and her hands clasped behind his neck, into his hair—short and coarse and wavy—but for all he tried, there was nothing along his jawline worth the razor; no sharp stubble or days old beard to scratch her delicate skin when she leaned in to kiss his cheeks, his lips. Nothing to tickle across her neck when he buried his face in her collarbone like he was home.
Still, he felt good. It felt good. And despite his ego, Tomaj was slow and gentle. The pain had been quick, and then gone, and suddenly she wished she had not worried so much about it and had let it be, let herself wait. The climax took its time, for all she clenched her eyes closed and tried to call to mind the visuals and the sounds that always got her there before.
When he whispered promises in her ear, his voice was a smooth tenor, and not a baritone that sounded like a crumbling mountainside.
And Tomaj never sang.
But now it was done. And it would get easier. The wanting would get easier, right?
He held her after, had kissed her forehead, and touched her cheek, silently beckoning her to look at him, and though she allowed herself to nuzzle him, to soak up his warmth in the stolen afterglow, she did not meet his eyes. Tomaj’s were brown, she remembered.
Not her first choice.