Title: Anticipation Characters: Cloud/Rude. Rating: R Word Count: 675
There's no one in the hallway to watch two men fumbling at the door. Rude's doing his best to put the key in the lock but dammit, he's not one for delicate action normally and he always gets fumble-fingered under certain conditions. Current conditions being one Cloud Strife, hero of the world, latched on to his side and writhing, sliding his body up and down against Rude's in a promising slow grind. Cloud rises on tiptoe and reaches out with his tongue for Rude's ear, playing with the jewelry. The key misses the keyhole again and Rude swears. “Fuck!”
“We will,” Cloud moans, half-drunk on his victory. The keys hit the ground. “Oh,” Cloud says, looking down, his head heavy on Rude's shoulder. “I'll get that.”
And boy, does he ever. He's sliding down Rude's body so quick that Rude can't remember to keep quiet. Cloud wraps one arm around Rude's thigh for balance and he stretches out for the keys. Rude nearly falls right then and there. As it is he ends up gripping the doorframe, half-praying none of the other guests come out and see him like this. Shiva, Reno's room is right next door.
Then there's no more time to worry because Cloud is sliding back up and unlocking the door himself. He gets it on the first try. Cloud's got a good touch for insertion. He swings the door open and steps inside, Rude tumbling after him.
Cloud doesn't take time to look around, just spins and shuts the door, bolts it, then looks up at the Turk he's got trapped against it. Rude doesn't think, just acts, just grabs Cloud's face in both hands and kisses him. It's rough and fast and they knock teeth more than once. They're chest to chest, hip to hip and Rude is having a hard time keeping his hands off that body, up the back, down the thigh, grasping around the narrow waist. Cloud's fighting fit and feels like heaven. Rude wants more.
Cloud's no slouch himself, bucking against Rude with a slight motion of his hips as Rude strips off his gloves. He gets the zipper on Rude's jacket just as Rude gets him by the hair.
It's a dirty move, taking control like this, tugging at those sunshine locks, but Rude can feel the strength in Cloud's frame and knows he'll need every bit of control he can get. Cloud throws his head back, not protesting, but those hands never stop working on Rude's jacket, his tie, his shirt. Cloud's eyes are closed and his throat moves as he breathes. There's a pulse point there Rude can see and all the while Cloud is still stripping him. Damn, he's good with his hands.
Rude spins, careful to turn Cloud with him and now it's the blond with his back against the door as Rude tries to undress him. Some of it is simple enough, big straps and buckles, but there are zippers and clasps and Rude's fine motor control is on vacation. Cloud yanks, once, twice and Rude's shirt is on the floor. One more yank and his pants are sliding past his knees. Cloud nudges him backwards to make him step out of them. Rude can just see Cloud's leg kicking the slacks out of the way as the blond leans in for another kiss.
It's exceptional coordination to a man who can't find any of his own at the moment. Rude thought he couldn't get any harder but there's something else rising too, that twinge in his stomach. Not fear, never fear, but he can't help wondering how this is going to work. It's different with every lover and it's been a damned long time since Rude bottomed to anyone.
Then he's flying backwards, propelled by a push of Cloud's foot against the door. The bed hits the backs of Rude's knees and he's down flat on his back. “Fuck,” he swears.
Cloud's smile is predatory. “In a minute.” Rude's mind scatters. Maybe it is fear now.
Title: Victor's Choice Characters: Cloud/Rude. Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 1018
Cloud doesn't jump him right away, gives him time to breathe. Rude leans up, refusing to be so vulnerable. Cloud's doing what Rude could not, removing light armor and clothes. The blond doesn't bother with the zipper on the knit top, just yanks the whole thing up over his head. Rude only remembers to breathe when Cloud smirks at him for staring.
Cloud turns around and bends over at the waist to handle his boots. Rude hears his breath hissing on the intake. Seems blondie knows how to put on a show. Cloud spins as he releases his belt and steps out of those baggy combat pants in one smooth motion.
Blue boxers, Rude can't help noting. They tent so proudly. He can't decide where on that tight, toned body to rest his eyes so he settles for roaming. That and wishing Cloud would bring his sweet ass closer. Rude's through with worrying how this is going to be because Cloud is beautiful and Rude would twist himself in knots if it meant touching that body skin to skin.
A flash and Cloud's on him, knocking the wind out of his chest and kissing him again. Fuck, that man loves kissing. Rude's not complaining, Cloud's good at it, doing things with his tongue that Rude's determined to make him repeat lower down. For now though, he'll enjoy it, reaching up to grab every bit of Cloud that he can. Cloud moans again and presses his full weight down on Rude and they grind together for awhile, feeling the dampness through their shorts. Cloud laughs lowly and swirls his tongue on Rude's ear.
Rude's had all he can stand. He stocked the nightstand when he got the room so a stretch and a bit of blind fishing and he's got the tube. He has to smack Cloud in the head twice with the thing before the man notices.
“Hm, in a hurry?” Cloud actually asks.
Rude bucks upwards. “What do you think?”
It only takes a moment for Cloud to get both sets of underwear off, but it's time enough for Rude to get something else out of the drawer. He tosses it at Cloud, who turns the packet over, staring. “Oh,” when it dawns on him. “It's been a while for me.”
“Not for me,” Rude says and wonders if that's disappointment he feels when there's not even a hint of jealousy in Cloud's eyes. Cloud gets down to business quick though, his fingers tearing that wrapper open with a delicacy that Rude envies. Then he scoots back and puts the rubber in his mouth. Before Rude can ask Cloud what the hell he's doing, Cloud's going down, rolling the condom down over Rude's cock with thumb and forefinger and tongue. It's not a smooth motion – Cloud's out of practice- but Rude yells so hard he's sure they heard that one in Wutai.
By the time he's over the shock, Cloud's already lubed him up and is blissfully preparing himself, one hand behind his back where Rude can't see and a flushed look on his face that Rude doesn't want to stop looking at. Somewhere in his head, he knows this isn't what he expected, but Cloud won, he gets what he wants.
Cloud reaches out for exactly that, straddling Rude and positioning himself right. “Ready?”
“You gotta ask?”
Cloud's tight. Too fucking tight, maybe, or in too much of a rush. Rude groans as Cloud sinks down on him, surrounding him with heat. “Fuck!” he breathes.
“'xactly,” Cloud moans. He's hurting, Rude can see it on his face, but he's not stopping. Seems he likes it that way. Well, never let it be said Rude left a partner unsatisfied. He tightens his grip on Cloud's thighs and thrusts. Cloud lets loose one broken, choked off cry that's too hard for Rude's comfort. He stops, already balls deep inside the blond and pulls himself up to stroke Cloud's face.
Cloud's eyes open, dazed at first but sharpening rapidly. This close up Rude can see the glow pulsing, fierce and hard. Then Cloud laughs and shoves Rude hard in the shoulder. “I didn't say you could get up.” Rude's back hits the mattress hard enough to shake the springs. Cloud leans with him, hovering but close. “And I didn't say you could stop either.”
For the next few moments Rude's mind is gone. He may have gotten used to how tight Cloud is and how hot but that's nothing compared to the way the man can move. It takes a while for Rude to catch the rhythm, planting his feet on the floor for leverage. He wants to explore Cloud's body, to run his hands up that chest and down past the hips, but Cloud's not giving him the time or the space. He has to settle for grabbing that ass. Not a bad trade-off, really.
It's not noisy. Well, they aren't, much. The bed squeaks in the fine tradition of hotel beds everywhere. Cloud cries out one more time, when they first hit the perfect angle and after that it's their unspoken contest to wring more sounds out of each other. They don't have long. Rude knows he can't take much more of this and from the shudders moving through Cloud, it'll be over soon for him too.
Rude frees one hand to help Cloud stroke himself. There's a whimper and a soft moan. Cloud's body shakes with all the force he won't let himself voice and Rude feels his release flood through him bare moments after the wetness runs through his fingers.
There's nothing to do but catch their breath for a while. Rude wonders how come he didn't think to put some tissues on the nightstand, but no worries, Cloud's licking his fingers clean for him. Oh. Rude's too sated to even wish it could be arousing at this point. Pretty sight though. He takes in every detail, filing it away so he can pull it out for later use. Which raises a question.