Title: Pleasurable Commands
Fandom: Final Fantasy 7
Theme Set: II
Warnings: m/m smut.
Disclaimer: FF7 or its characters do not belong to me.
Their first kiss is hesitant, a brief touch of the lips with the elder shocked, and the younger pulling away with a smirk on his lips. Their second is better, seething hot with lust and passion, hands threaded into light blond hair to tug the young man closer, as lips and teeth clash for dominance, both sides wanting to be the one in charge, with only one coming out the victor, the other finally caving under, as a tongue worms its way into a damp mouth.
The moan is what makes the victor smirk this time.
The first time he sees him naked is in the pale moonlight that filters from above the plate, and his breath catches in his throat. Rufus has always been beautiful, he realizes this, and so have others, but with a towel slung low over slender hips, he is simply gorgeous. And when that towel is removed, then that just clinches how beautiful he is.
Of course, Tseng would never say how beautiful Rufus is to his face, but in his mind he can think it all the same, as the blond comes to sit on his lap, bathrobe being tugged off his shoulders.
He’s panting now, hands bound to the bedposts with the standard issue handcuffs that they all come with, and he has to bite his lip to stop the sounds from coming out, as he arches into the feather light touch that Rufus is giving him, which is not enough, not enough, something he wants to yell to the rafters, but has much more decorum for that. But of course, Rufus won’t listen to a word he says, as a wet hand, slippery with lubricant; slides close by, but not close enough to where he wants it.
It’s his turn this time, payback for the last time Rufus had him pinned down to the mattress, and Tseng makes the most of it this time, stopping to take in the trembling, blindfolded young man in front of him, before straddling him. Kissing down his chest gently, he notices how Rufus is still trembling under his lips, and smiles a little, sliding hands down his sides where he knows the young blond is ticklish, even after all of these years.
“Tseng!” Rufus cries out, aroused and laughing at the same time, and Tseng can’t help but think how it’s been too long since he heard him laugh.
Some nights it’s all lips and softness, gentle kisses planted on a bare shoulder as they go through the night slowly, taking their time, each breath measured, the pace set so they can savor the time together.
Other times it needs more than just the gentle touches from each other to set things into motion. A push into the bedroom as an earlobe is tugged on, backs are scratched, and bites painful enough to make someone cry out are placed on certain spans of skin.
Tseng has to make sure his shirt collar is high enough most days.
Below the Plate, the nights are always warm, the simulated light heating up every layer the further down it goes. On top of the plate, however, the area around is so tainted, so destroyed, that it seems like there is a perpetual darkness covering everything, making everything seem colder than it really is. Many would say the residents who live above resemble the Plate.
In reality the plate resembles them only on a day to day basis. But, whenever Rufus decides to spend the night at Tseng’s below the Plate apartment, he knows that he has never been warmer then he is right now, curled underneath the covers with his lover around him.
It’s a sound that startles the both of them, the loud sound of ripping fabric in the middle of their customary fight for control, made even more exciting by the darkness the coat closet gave them. While they wondered as to whose clothes they had just ripped, both of them knew that a coat later would hide any damages left to their clothes, and decided to forgo the usual quick exchange.
Muffled sounds continued to come from the coat room, and while Tseng hadn’t said anything to the attendants, he didn’t need to.
Later, when he went to pick up his coat, Palmer wondered if he had ripped it before and hadn’t noticed.
8. Legs (Instead of Ice)
Rufus looked up with his eyes as he gave another lick against the taut muscle, making Tseng buck slightly against the bonds that held him tight, one for each wrist, and one for each ankle. Giving another lick, Rufus used his teeth to graze across an upper thigh, making Tseng twitch, his arousal evident from this sort of play. Moving back down with his mouth, planting kisses along the way that made the Turk’s leg twitch more from lack of stimulation to the place he really needed it.
Licking at a spot inside his knee, Rufus grinned when his lover made a muffled noise that could be called irritation in anyone else.
It was always so deliciously satisfying whenever Rufus could pin Tseng down and do whatever he wanted. This was why when the Turk gave up his most precious asset, his sight, Rufus couldn’t help but play it for all its worth.
Casting Blind on him right from the start, his hands began their wandering immediately, stroking him hard and fast as he pushed him back and straddled his thighs, sinking down onto his length with a satisfying groan, the other groping blindly for his hips as they began to move in a uneven rhythm, hips rising up blindly to meet his body as Rufus groaned again in pleasure, pushing Tseng’s arms back and riding him for all its worth.
In the beginning, it had all been coy glances and furtive looks at boardroom meetings. Tseng would keep his position by the door, watching the meeting with an unreadable look on his face. The face of one bored enough to know not to show it, and to have a look that would stroke fear into the hearts of men everywhere.
But he couldn’t resist a slight look of surprise, mouth opening a bit before he closed it once more, that he couldn’t help when Rufus suddenly made eye contact with him and licked his lips lasciviously.
Tseng scanned the page of Elena’s report, eyes catching on one line that stood out from the rest. In the end, restraint was used on the agent… Dropping the paper onto his desk, he leaned back in his chair, remembering last night, the way restraint was used on him, the way restraints were used on him as well, rubbing his wrists raw. Groaning softly, he couldn’t help but palm his erection, spreading his legs. The zip of his pants undone enough to slip a hand inside and stroke himself harder, right before the phone rang and he picked it up.
“When you’re done, come up to my office,” Rufus purred on the other line.
The painter had called it “A Man in Repose”, and during endless, mind numbing chatter with socialites trying to make their way up by becoming closer to the newest vice president, he always kept coming back to the painting, wondering what it was about it that made him think.
When he finally could make his escape, he looked down on off the balcony; fingers gripped tight into the railing as a powerful thrust made him lose his breath against the cool night air. Suddenly, as he closed his eyes and pleasure coursed through his body, he knew why; the painter had chosen the right subject.
For the both of them, there had always been morning routines. For Rufus, it meant several cups of coffee and work at home before going to work at the office. For Tseng, it meant meditation, several cups of coffee, and then going to the office, before anyone else in most cases.
Tseng decided that this morning would require a better wake up call then usual. So when Rufus awoke, startled by the licks to his stirring erection before he was completely engulfed by the heat of a warm mouth, made even warmer by the coffee that must have been drank earlier, he came to one conclusion.
He’d like to be woken up by this everyday.
Straining, reaching, almost there, almost there, and before he could even take a breath, there it was again, the pain of being stretched too much, the pleasure mounting through his body. His breathing was caught with every hitch, with every stretch of the fingers within his body. It was pushing, it was rough enough at times before more lube was added, the spill of it on the bed sheet when there was too much.
It was too much, too much, not enough, please, more, more, please don’t stop. When the final finger slipped inside him, white sparks shone behind his eyes as his body strained to acquaint itself with the intrusion of a fist.
It had crossed both of their minds at some point within their usual power plays, that there might be a bit of using going on. To what purpose, neither could tell. After so long, neither of them wanted to know the reason behind it starting anyway.
Letting their bodies know each other, letting them use each other for what they both wanted. For the push and the pull, the thrust into another body, the way hands played at each line of leg, each smooth expanse of skin.
Perhaps they began just to use each other. In the end though, it was both of them who ended up being used.