Brazen (Final Fantasy VII, Elena/Tseng)
Title: Brazen Author: sister_coyote Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Pairing: Elena/Tseng Rating: NC-17 Prompt: Rude/Elena - Dirty talk, and lots of it; one of them is surprised that the other can use it so easily. Preferably set sometime after Elena's been 'accepted' in her role as a Turk by the others. Smut would be delicious. (Alternate: Tseng/Elena.)
This far out, her PHS couldn't get good coverage. The signal blacked out more often than not. She tapped the screen with a fingernail -- it had been blinking 'Locating Service...' for nearly ten minutes -- then snapped it shut, sighed, and picked up the corded phone beside the motel's bed and dialed Tseng's number.
He answered on the second ring. "Yes?" he said, brusque enough to give her pause before she realized that he has no way of knowing that it was her on the line. It was a wonder he'd answered at all.
"It's me," she said. "PHS can't get a signal."
"Located the target. Will make contact tomorrow." She twisted her left wrist sharply just to feel the knife spring into her palm, then cradled the phone in the crook of her neck to leave her hands free so she could unstrap the sheath from her forearm and set it on the bedside table.
"Need backup?" he asked, and finally she didn't feel the need to bristle. He'd ask Reno or Rude the same.
"I've got it covered," she said.
"Anything else?" he said, and it was so good to hear his voice -- and she thought she heard a note, faint but real, of invitation.
So instead of saying, "No, sir," she said, "Bored. Miss you," as casually as she could manage.
He didn't hesitate before he said, "Likewise," and that made her smile and lean back against the bed's lumpy pillows.
"You at home?"
"Yes," he said.
"Did I wake you?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
He chuckled, low, resonant. "I'm not."
"Wish I was there. You have no idea how uncomfortable this bed is." She shifted, kicking the scratchy and no-doubt questionable comforter further down the bed. The bedsprings made a plaintive whine.
"Ah, I see how it is. Only in it for my bed, is it?"
"Of course not," she said, caught her breath, held it, and then thought, Oh, why not? "I'd just as happily fuck you on the couch."
"Mm," Tseng said, just a little sound of agreement, and she wondered if he was thinking of the same evening she was.
"But you're right," she said, toying with the buttons on her shirt. "If I was there, I'd want the bed. So I'd have plenty of room to strip you down and stretch you out and get a good look." She could hardly believe her daring -- doing things was one thing, but saying them out loud was another, and in some ways it seemed more frightening. More deliberate, maybe. She felt a little giddy.
"You'd be in a rush?" Tseng's voice was low, almost tangible, like a caress.
"Of course I would." She pressed her thumb against one of the buttons, popping it loose. "Have I ever been particularly patient?"
"You make a good point."
"And anyway, by the next time I see you, it'll be two weeks from the last time I had you alone -- and that's a long time to go without."
"Surely," he said, a smile in his voice, "surely you will have not gone entirely without."
"Of course not." She popped the last button and shrugged, letting her shirt fall open, and unhooked the catch of her bra. Shrugged both off at once, shivering a little in the cool air. "But it's not the same thing at all, getting yourself off, as coming with someone." She licked her fingers and stroked her nipples -- case in point; it felt good, but it was like trying to tickle yourself; her nipples never responded as well to her own touch as to someone else's. Feeling flushed and brazen, circling her nipple with a fingertip and squirming a little, she continued, "And especially not as good as coming with your cock in me."
She heard his breath catch. She smiled. "Is that what you want?" he asked.
"Eventually. Not just yet." She slipped her hand down under the waistband of her pants without unbuttoning them, fingering the elastic of her underwear. "First I want you just as desperate as I am. So I'll start at your throat and bite my way down -- leave a mark on the collarbone where no one but me is going to be able to see it -- "
He hissed but said nothing.
" -- down over your stomach -- you have really beautiful muscles there, you know that?" And a thick white scar that she didn't like to think about but did like to trace with her mouth, kiss, slick and shiny-smooth under her lips, something he'd survived.
"And then what?"
"You know 'and then what.'" She licked her lips. "Then I take your cock in my mouth."
She could hear the ragged sound of his indrawn breath at that.
She continued. "Just the head at first, just with the tip of my tongue along the ridge." She finally gave in and unbuttoned her slacks, pushed them down to her knees along with her underwear, and brushed her fingertips along the juncture between thigh and body. "I know you like that."
"Yes," he said. "Yes. Am I allowed to touch you?"
She smiled, ran her fingers back up to massage her stomach. "If you like."
"Of course. I want to touch your breasts." She shuddered, lay back, let her hands slide up to cup them again. "I want to stroke your nipples until they're hard, while you -- "
"While I suck you off," she said. She pinched her nipples between her fingertips, imagining his mouth, the hard smooth line of his teeth. "While I lick around the head of your cock," and she heard his breath catch again at the word, so crude on her lips and yet just right. She was a big girl; she could say these things. "While I go lower and rub you with my lips. Down and down -- you're big enough to hold my jaw open, press my tongue down -- you know how far I can -- "
"Yes," he interrupted, finally hoarse.
"You're touching yourself," she said, delighted, letting her other hand drop to stroke through her curls.
"Yes. Gods. Elena -- "
"All the way down," she said, "until I can feel you at the back of my throat," and he exhaled hard, almost a groan. "Just like that," she said, letting herself stroke the folds of her cunt, slick-wet and thick and hot already. She didn't press her fingers in or touch her clit, not yet. It'd be over too fast.
"Where did you get so good at this?" he asked, and she didn't hear any jealousy in his voice, just surprise, and pleasure. So she answered honestly.
"I have a good imagination," and let her fingers graze her clit for the first time, and let herself moan, high and breathy, so that she heard his answering sound low and crackling over the phone.
"Gods -- " he said again, and she could hear the sound of his hand on his cock.
"Don't come yet," she warned, and heard his ease off, heard his breathing go hard and regular, trying to control himself. If she closed her eyes she could see him, hair loose, face flushed, lips parted and eyes closed, robe open and his hand on his cock -- his beautiful thick dark-flushed cock. "I'm not done with you yet."
"Of course," he said. "You wanted to...."
"Yes," she said. "I think you're just as desperate as I am. Unless you want me to stop? I could hold the base of your cock, let you simmer there a while."
"Please," he said, which was a rush like nothing else.
"Then I sit up," she said, finally letting herself press her fingers against her slick folds, "and straddle you, and rub you against me until you're nice and wet -- " she could hear his breathing go ragged, each exhalation a small moan, and she felt giddy, fierce, triumphant -- "and then slide down, all the way, because god, I'm so wet, it's the easiest fucking thing in the world. And I want to feel all of you at once, stretching me out, so big in my cunt I can hardly -- " She had two fingers in herself already, rocking hard so that her clit brushed the heel of her hand with each stroke.
He was breathing hard and fast in her ear, and said her name again, wonderingly -- surprised, she thought, but also awed, and that made her want to go on.
"I want to move," she went on, "get a good angle and fuck you nice and hard -- are you still touching me?"
"I couldn't stop now," he said. "You would feel so good -- ahh, Elena -- your breasts, your hips, between your legs."
"That's it," she said, "touch my clit, make me feel it, make me tighten up all around you and feel how thick and hard you are -- " She had no idea where this courage came from, but Tseng didn't seem to be complaining, and, and, and it was too late to go shy on him. " -- fuck, Tseng."
"I would fuck you," he said, ragged, on the edge of his own control, "I would fuck you, I would make you scream, you have no idea how much I like the way you look when you come."
"Yes," she said, rubbing hard against the perfect spot inside, rubbing hard against her clit at the same time, Tseng burning behind her eyes, vivid, intense, incredible. "Yes, oh, fuck, fuck," and she came, spasming around her own fingers, not holding back the sounds but letting go, hearing herself high and desperate at first and then descending, as her orgasm faded, to low, satisfied noises.
She could hear the steady hitch and catch of Tseng's breath, the sound of his hand on his cock, and it wasn't long before he went quite silent and then exhaled, long and rough, almost a purr.
At the end, she was almost unsure, even through the warm lassitude after sex. But he spoke first, and relieved her of that burden: "You surprise me at every turn."
"Good," she said.
He was silent a moment, and then said, "Call me again?"