Beer Goggles

Final Fantasy I. Red Mage/Black Mage. Artwork by Ponderosa.
Somewhere near the bottom of Red Mage’s second cup of ale, this seemed like a fantastic idea.

“You hit me with some sort of muddling spell, didn’t you?” B tries to roll away, knocking some dastardly-looking apparatus to the floor. Just what he’d be doing with that in bed, Red Mage is sure he doesn’t want to know.

Somewhere near the bottom of Red Mage’s second cup of ale, this seemed like a fantastic idea. Round about the fourth, he’d felt rather like he’d die if he didn’t. B had seemed fairly amicable about the whole endeavour until he’d come to the apparently startling realisation that Red Mage’s concept of sport had very little in common with his.

“B, really, you did say yes,” Red Mage says, the tiniest, deliberate hint of something darker in his voice, as he pins B’s wrist to the pillow. “You’re not going to tell me your word’s not worth half a copper gil, are you?”

“Absolutely worthless,” B agrees. His hat’s been lost somewhere between the table and the bed, his hair no longer whip-straight but tousled, black and fine, spread across the rough-weave sheets. Even on skin so dark as his, there’s colour high in his cheeks, and his eyes beneath the soft glow are fetchingly dazed. “You’re a liar and a cheat, which normally you’d think would be something I’d respect, but-”

B’s words turn into meaningless noise, his mouth still open but speech moderately impossible with Red Mage’s tongue in the way. He starts to kiss back before realising it, stopping abruptly.

“Are you saying you’ve a measure of respect for me, then?” Red Mage asks, his lips wet and tingling, warmed by B’s breath.

“I promise I won’t in the morning,” B says.

End

One Response to “Beer Goggles”

  1. Nassau Says:

    A craving I never knew I had has been deeply, deeply satisfied.

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