Title: Play
Pairing: Farroncest (Lightning/Serah)
Rating: M for sisterly incest
Words: 972
Song Inspiration: "Ecstasy" by Tinashe

Disclaimer: No, I do not own these characters, otherwise, there'd be a lot more subtext.

A/N: Another quickie (haha). I used the song here again for literally one paragraph. Other than that, there was no inspiration besides really wanting to get this piece out before I lost it. Once again, any reviews are very much welcome. Enjoy!

She can't see. Her eyes, dilated, dart around the dark room, only taking in the low cobalt of the sky through the blinds of the window. She stretches out her legs and – ugh – her joints crack. She reaches out, fingers undulating against the stuffy air. Back and forth her arms wave, hitting something – the nightstand, she realizes - and then stops. One more swipe of her arm and she hears a crack on the ground. She swears under her breath – her phone. All she wanted was to check the time.

A strong arm wraps around her waist under her t-shirt and pulls her backwards. Her back is flush against a warm, bare chest, so close with no space between. She likes it. She shivers and twitches at the touch rising on her neck – lips.

The voice behind her is low, heavy with sleep, and nothing less than a lazy purr. "G'morning."

She doesn't respond, not right away anyway. She turns under the protective arm and looks up, seeing nothing but near darkness. Lowering her head, she leans forward, finds the gentle curve of a jaw, and inhales. That raw, wonderful scent she's so used to makes her shiver and her body inches just closer to wakefulness. "Did I wake you?"

There's no response but a soft chuckle and kiss back. She throws an arm around the body next to her and trails fingers up a strong back, slow and even-paced. She can feel familiar curves, lean muscles twitching under her touch, and the raised skin of a few small scars. A thin layer of sweat lingers under her fingertips – it's hot in the room, even with central air running on full blast. She senses tickling on her lower back and realizes it's hands drawing languid shapes and symbols on her skin, one being a jagged zigzag just above the band of her underwear – a lightning bolt, maybe? How fitting.

There's more tickling and she giggles into the jaw she's already marked twice more with her lips. An opposing hand mimics hers, touching and grasping under the shirt clinging to her small back. One hand rises to cup the back of her neck. She's brought in close, can feel shallow breaths against her dry lips. She sighs, nails raking lightly over a muscled back. A short whisper reaches her ears and she laughs against the lips that move with hers.

Before she knows it, she's pressed into a strong chest and bosom. She huffs and reaches up to run lips and tongue over the skin of a neck. Before long, she runs a finger around the waistband of nylon shorts. She dips the hand in and laughs at the gasp she receives from above. Though not as strong, she shifts her weight over, rolling the body next to her. She's on her knees between the half-raised legs of a lithe frame. With practiced caresses, she trails fingers down the abdomen, between the valley of breasts and beyond. A cute, lazy smirk is plastered on her face at the reactions before her.

Her hands move again, lower this time. They're slow - she's still waking up, even as the lyrics of a recent song brush past her lips to the one below her. Hips lift up and she tugs off the bothersome article of clothing. Lowering herself, her eyes rise to watch for a reaction but she forgets about the darkness.

She dips her head to each thigh, raking teeth over skin, and then licks her lips at the subtle gasps at the head of the bed. Hmm, not good enough. She descends, lower, lower, until she finds what she's looking for. The gasps turn into deep moans, and she smiles triumphantly. That was better.

A hand busies itself in her mussed hair and she finds herself leaning into the rough touch. It doesn't take much longer; legs tremble under her hands and hips buck. A soft groan fills the room. She lifts her head, licking wet lips. The taste drives her insane and she whimpers, eyes filled with lust if anyone could see them. Before she gets too far, she's pulled down for a kiss, off-centered, a missed attempt on the upper corner of her lip. Another try and the next is on target, rougher, tongue brushing her lips and then her chin. She hears a whisper, hot breath tickling her ear. Oh. She nods her head eagerly – forgets again – then responds with an equally hushed voice.

She climbs on top, straddling, and squints to watch the shadowy figure. One hand brushes on her belly before caressing her heated skin. The same hand lowers to rest on her hip and pushes downward. She obeys.

She lowers herself, slowly, and inhales a sharp breath. Fingers. Three of them. She'll take them all. Leaning forward, her hands rest on an abdomen, fingering the curves and dips of ribs. Her hips rise and fall with an even pace. Again. And again. And again. Faster, faster, faster.

Suddenly the room is burning and everything around her spins out of control. There's a familiar tightening in her lower belly. She whimpers and moans and fuck – stars explode in front of her eyes. She lowers herself a final time and sits there, dazed. She collapses forward, caught by toned, protective arms. She feels lips on her cheek, her forehead, then hears a smug chuckle. Another whisper catches her ear and, dear Etro, she can practically hear the smirk.

Her body thrums with delight at the playful nips on her jaw and neck and she can't help but smile. She's always enjoyed their early morning sessions, their own personal playtime – nothing serious, just quick and dirty and straight to the point. Before long, she shuts her eyes and rests, happy that they still have time before the day officially begins.