Synchronicity


unanswered questions lay to rest


Combing Yuna's hair became a daily ritual after the first night of their consummation; no matter the mood, Baralai acquiesced without complaint, since it meant spending more time with her. Time. A tricky creature, the trickiest when concerning the complex machinations of the human heart. Despite their fulfilled vows and unconditional love, thorns prick at his perfect happiness.

He doesn't dare voice his doubts, knowledge he desires not, yet paranoia convinces him to harbor second thoughts.

Weren't you happy with Tidus? What happened? Why choose me?

"You're losing your touch, B."

Yuna giggles, cringing when his hands tug a little too hard, and his chuckle eases her annoyance, reminding her why she married this evil, evil man. Reluctant, loving fingers brush her temple, slipping within brown silk, running along the ridiculous length of her hair, searching for knots, savoring the real texture. Is this girl really mine?

One hand lingers on her neck after tucking some strands behind her ear, seeking proof, dreading the dream, marveling at his discovery. Does this girl... really belong to me? Pale purple blemishes, love bites – Baralai's heart throbs, disbelief choking him still.

Touching her cheek, tracing her jaw, he tilts her face to look at him. Spring grass and the summer sky, her bi-colored eyes waver, self-conscious, Why do you look away?, smiling small, sighing in bliss when feeling his face nuzzle her neck, blushing, leaning into his arms, Why do you humor me as if you care?, and his hands slip down her arms, stroking her hips, past hip thrusts he had the pleasure of indulging, cradling the slight bulge of her naked stomach, and Yuna cups his face, leading him into a kiss.

He responds, irrationally lovelorn, allowing her entrance, trusting her despite paranoid misgivings, Why do you act as if you want me?, tying sensual, slow knots with their tongues, savoring her taste, treating this kiss as his first and last, and her arms rise, curling around his shoulders, tugging him tight into an amorous embrace. Why do you hold me as if you need me?

Foreheads touch, mouths are parted, if only for the moment, underlying sincerity reflected in each other's eyes.

"I love you, dear."

"I love you, too, B..."

Nothing distracts him more than hearing his pet name fall from her lips, Why is it you love me, and not Tidus? Or is your love not true?, and when she whispers his name only, swept in the throes of passion, does he believe her.