Skeren Dreamera (skeren) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2007-09-01 00:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: skeren, f: final fantasy vii, p: cloud/zack, september 01 |
Gentle Dreaming, Final Fantasy Seven (Zack/Cloud)
Title: Gentle Dreaming
Author: skeren
Rating: NC-17, definitely not worksafe
Warnings: None exactly, though it's not as straightforward as it seems.
Word count: 1055
Prompt: dream sex – “I wish that I could stay here forever.”
A/N: It's set post AC, and hopefully, one who made the prompt, it lived up to expectations. It didn't go exactly as intended from when I picked it.
He felt fingers in his hair, light, gentle things. The sensation was enough to rouse him. Tifa never came into his room while he was asleep. She knew he didn’t take well to being woken, reacting before he was awake enough to realize what he was doing, which was plenty dangerous to the unprepared. Likewise, the children had been cautioned to stay out of his room, and it seemed that Marlene took the task of guarding his room for him while he slept very seriously. She would have alerted him in her excitement if any of the other members of AVALANCHE had arrived. But, even if one had slipped by, none of his companions had any cause to touch him.
Thus, he knew that it was none of those people who were petting his hair. Even if he’d wanted to think so, the hands were too big, the callouses not right for the sorts of things that Tifa did, and it was skewed from anything he could really expect from any of the others he could call friends.
His first thought, on focusing on the face over his, was that this was a dream. There was no chance it was reality, not with that distinct violet glow. He’d missed that stupidly crazy black hair...
The man was dead. Thus, it had to be a dream, because there was no way that Zack was here, petting his hair and studying him with that too fond look, apparently, somehow, unaware he was being stared at in turn.
At least, he seemed unaware until he spoke, voice a bit choked in shock. “Zack?”
It was then that the violet eyes widened, the petting halting at once. He wished the man hadn’t stopped. It was his dream. Zack shouldn’t stop doing things he liked in his dream.
He didn’t have enough good dreams for them to get interrupted like that.
“Spike.” The tone was cautious, in turn, and the man moved his other hand to run his fingers down his cheek, voice entirely serious. “You can see me?”
What did he...? What kind of question was that? This was a dream! Dreams didn’t need to make sense. Not wanting this to start veering into reality, to lose a chance to enjoy something for once, he pulled the man down, not really caring that he startled him, and kissed him.
His dream. His chance.
There was obvious shock on the part of the other man, startlement, but the gentle hands never turned aggressive, and he never tried to get away. Instead the dark haired figure relaxed, finally kissing back, finally acting like he imagined Zack would when kissed. He was confident, bold, but didn’t do anything exceedingly creepy or disgusting.
It was perfect, and it wasn’t enough. There was more, right? Of course there was more.
This was Zack, Zack was creative. Zack was also keeping his hands to himself for reasons that he couldn’t fathom for the life of him. That meant that when clothes needed to go away, he was the one that needed to get rid of them.
Oddly, he found that he didn’t mind. He ignored the strange little details that tried to seep into his consciousness about this. Zack’s skin was a hint too cool. The clothing he took off himself landed in a heap while Zack’s dissolved away. There was no breathing, no heartbeat. But there was Zack. There were rough startled noises as his hands hungrily roamed the skin. There were pleased little groans as his fingers did just the right thing.
There was enough that the strangeness of the dream could easily be dismissed just like that. As a dream.
Thus, when Zack stopped them to make sure he wanted to go further, he glared. It was a rude interruption of something he was enjoying, and he wanted it to go back to its utterly improbable state of obscene fantasy. Thankfully, Zack had understood and hadn’t argued with him further, only demanding lotion, which some squirming had him locating.
He didn’t question why the dream was in a place that looked just like his room. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the sensation of being filled, the murmured assurances. The sharp sensations of pleasure and aching that shouldn’t have been that tangible, no matter how good the dream. Had he come from the lifestream to visit him?
If he had, all the more reason to cling to this. If it was something like that, he wanted the man to try it again. Needed him to.
When he arched in his climax, he felt strong hands on his skin, and when he let himself go back to ‘sleep’ the sensation of being alone never set in.
He didn’t ever want that sensation to go away. He wanted to keep it forever. Even if he knew that a dream, no matter how real, couldn’t last.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.
-o-o-o-
When the blond was finally asleep again, he wasn’t sure what to do.
Spike had kept insisting and insisting that it was a dream. A wet dream apparently, but still a damn dream.
But it wasn’t. He’d been awake the whole time and hadn’t even realized it. How he’d known he was there was a mystery. How he’d seen him a bigger one. He’d never reacted to the touches in his hair before. In the weeks he’d been stuck here, the blond hadn’t shown any signs that he’d been aware that he had a ghost following him around.
Maybe... it was a fluke?
Maybe.
He’d check in the morning, see if he was still as invisible as ever to the rest of the world... and if he was... If he was, he’d just have to figure out what to do then.
Though, if Cloud could still see him... he couldn’t say he minded that at all.
Of course, he still had to figure out how to get the blond to believe that he wasn’t dreaming, or, worse, hallucinating, but he could deal with that.
He could deal with a hell of a lot if it meant that, finally, he was going to be able to help Spike again instead of just watching.
He just hoped that it wasn’t a fluke. He hoped really, really hard.
It was all he could do.