There is something about being home again that just sends the energy rushing through Fang.
Perhaps it is the fresh air, sweeter than anything Cocoon could produce. Perhaps the night sounds of crickets chirping and the occasional dragon call, so much like the nights in Oerba so long ago, just remind Fang of the good times. Or perhaps this effect is merely the product of the vibrations of an Adamantoise's stomping hitting a good spot.
No matter the cause, the effect is the same: that libido, the one that had remained somewhat subdued up on Cocoon now returns full force.
Thankfully, when Fang wanders off to take care of her business away from earshot of everyone else, Vanille waits for her with a blanket already in hand. That's good, Fang thinks, the dew on the grass would likely soak through her sari otherwise. Can't be getting it wet in two directions.
Vanille nods and leans in. "Just like the old times. It's something about Gran Pulse, isn't it?"
Fang catches Vanille around her shoulders and takes in her lover's scent—flowers and a hint of fresh soil, exactly like the air on Pulse come to think of it. Her hand moved up Vanille's top and cupped a full breast. There's no pretending when she leans in to whisper: "Something about here makes me just want to take you somewhere and…"
Vanilled giggled and pulled away from Fang. "Then take me somewhere and do anything you like." She offers a hand and their fingers intertwine.
They find a lookout in the Vallis Media, one where the critters aren't as likely to come sniffing around. Vanille spreads the blanket out, and takes care that it lies as neatly as possible on the flat grass. Too carefully, as far as Fang's concerned as she drops her clothes as quickly as possible.
"Aren't you worried about spiders?" Vanille asks as she removes each piece of her clothing and folds it before moving on to the next.
Fang stands back and watches the show. "I'm more worried that we might get interrupted by a stray flan before we get to scratch this itch." Though Fang grumbles she very much admires the way that Vanille looks in the moonlight, all pale skin and panties just begging to be removed. "Let me get those for you."
Vanille stills and nods. Fang presses Vanille against her—that scent—and lets her hand explore the smooth planes and curves of that body. Beneath her, Vanille already trembles.
"Eager are we?" But then, Fang feels it too, the low rumbling of desire in her and the honest to goodness thought that the power of her lust alone could probably tear through any creature who might dare interrupt.
Fang obliges, laying on her back and letting Vanille sit on her face. Even with the blanket, the ground's fair share of rocks press into Fang's naked back. The minor nuisance is so worth it though, when her hands grab hold of Vanille's ass and her tongue goes between Vanille's folds, and—just like old times—Vanille makes those lovely noises that drown out the crickets. Fang can't—and won't—tell her to quiet down, especially when her lover is trembling atop of her.
After the shaking subsides, Vanille kisses Fang once and smiles. "You're good."
"I know, love."
Vanille pulls away and gets a wicked glint in her eyes. "But I'm better." Already she slides down and Fang's legs seem to part of their own accord. Not that Fang herself has any objections to letting Vanille prove her prowess.
The sounds that escape into the night are not objections at all.
"Did you hear those noises last night?" Snow asks in the morning. "Man, you'd think those animals were celebrating something, the way they carried on."'
"Or dying," Lightning agreed, "maybe there was a feast last night."
Fang doesn't give anything away by glancing at Vanille and drawing attention to what is probably the pinkest face in the history of humankind right now. Fang knows exactly where those sounds come from, and she merely shrugs and smiles mischeviously. "There's just something about Gran Pulse. Things are different here out in the wild."
And they, who have never been out of their cradle before this, nod sagely and accept that explanation.