Title: Prowl Characters: Reno Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 284 Notes: Sorry about the delay, I had a two-day work type thingy.
The night is young but legal, just like the innkeeper's son. The kid is cute and he has an interest in Reno's rod that more than makes up for the big sister's disinterest. And he wants the hands-on experience. Too bad the innkeeper doesn't agree with Reno's instructional technique.
Reno stumbles out the back door, making a quick escape. His shirt's untucked but that's hardly new. What he needs to do is check if his fly is open. Nope, all secure, didn't catch himself in the zipper.
Hmm... seems he might have left his shorts behind. Oh well. At least the kid'll have a souvenir. Reno tucks both hands in his pockets and slips into an easy stroll. He'll just walk around a bit and sneak back inside when he's ready to turn in. There's plenty of time to prowl for more.
Hold up.
Is that Cloud's bike?
Blondie's here?
Blondie's here! SCORE!
Funny. The truck's here too. Reno's sure he left it out front. Rude must have moved it, he's got the other key. But goddamn Hades deep-fried on a stick, what the hell happened? That thing on the door, that's not a scratch, it's a canyon! What jackass driver went and did that? No wonder Rude moved the truck. Just in time too, front tire's out.
Well, no matter. One thing about Rude, he's dependable. Sure thing he had a thing or two to say to the jerk responsible, and as a bonus Rude does most of his talking with his fists.
Heh, enough worry about the truck. Cloud's around town somewhere. Time to go round up a chocobo-head and ride that birdie to the rails!
Title: To The Rails Characters: Cloud/Rude Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 640
It's easier this way, on his knees with Cloud in his lap. Closer, warmer too. He can get his arms around Cloud's waist to hold him, dig his feet into the mattress to move. Not that Cloud's slacking off by any means. He's got both ankles locked behind Rude's back and his arms around Rude's shoulders and oh, god, the sounds that are coming from his mouth.
He's got a good voice, deep enough, almost breathy. Rude's never really noticed before, but now with it gone all ragged so close to his ears, it's all he knows. Maybe this is why Cloud doesn't talk much, because if too many people heard it they'd never let him stop.
And that would be no easy task because it takes work to make Cloud Strife scream. The right angle, the right speed, the right amount of force. Rude's hands wander up the man's back, securing a grip to move him harder. He gets one wild, broken wail from the man and almost loses it right there. Almost isn't good enough for Cloud. He reaches out and grabs the headboard, untangles his feet and rotates his hips just right. Rude knows he's going to die.
He's not giving in without a fight. Cloud's strong, but he lacks sheer size to work with and Rude's got the more secure position. He leans forward, breaking Cloud's grip on the headboard, forcing the blond to cling to him. Cloud grips with everything he's got to all of Rude he can reach. All of him. Maybe Cloud miscalculated that one because it's too much for Rude as he balances there. His knees give out and he falls forwards. Now Cloud's on his back and at Rude's mercy. It's too hard trying to hold back a smile at that so Rude doesn't bother. He answers that blue-eyed glare with a jerk of his hips and a shifting grip. Cloud wants up but Rude isn't going to give.
He gets Cloud by the wrists and pins them to the bed. The rhythm's increasing now and the slick sounds of sliding flesh are a counterpoint to the whimpers Cloud can't hold back anymore. He's fighting it, being on the bottom, literally. That last cry sounded almost pained. Rude relents just a little, lets Cloud have his hands free.
Cloud grabs him by the head, fingers spread wide, palms skidding over the skin. It's not the first time Rude's had a lover try grasping for hair that wasn't there. Cloud's staring up at him, panting hard. There's something desperate there and Rude's not sure what it is. He reaches down to stroke Cloud off, hoping to make it better.
The hitch in Cloud's breath is almost a sob. Rude would slow down if not for that glare. Cloud might kill him if he stops. Cloud's teeth are gritted and he refuses to blink. His hands can't get a grip on Rude's head, on his neck. They're sliding down Rude's shoulders, grasping at his back. The tremors are building and Rude's sure the bed's sliding some but then all he sees is blue as Cloud cries out, arching under him, eyes wide and mako bright. Rude won't stop, can't, even as Cloud goes flat on the bed.
Cloud's hands are sliding free and Rude misses their touch. Cloud's reaching back, for the bed rail maybe. It's low down, a little awkward to grasp at that angle but he looks like he needs something to steady him as Rude finally succumbs. Rude slumps forward, his mouth on Cloud's beautiful throat. Cloud's breathing is pretty controlled now, really quiet. Rude can't say the same. His throat's dry, his heart's gone nuts and he can't get air in his lungs fast enough.
Fucking awful thing, because he really, really needs to ask Cloud if he's okay.