[FF7] Firebright
Firebright
Rating: R for semi-graphic sex
Pairings: Tseng/Reno
Tseng and Reno and elements. Bad metaphoric speculation on the hows and whys of the pairing.
Please do me a favour and be nice when pointing out just how badly this is written ^_^. I know it doesn't work and it falls apart halfway (like Tseng's train of thought 8D), but it was a horribly rushed job for celes_grant. I'll do a better job next time!
They say that opposites attract.
Perhaps this is true, Tseng reflects, for there could hardly be a more contrasting pair than both of them. Reno is fire-bright, not just in the brilliance of his hair
(hair that cascades down his back as Tseng’s fingers find and slip off the restraining tie, allowing those glimmering strands to run through his fingers)
but in his personality. He is as untamable as a wild fire, as quick to anger and just as deadly. He stands in the middle of the battlefield, untouched by the blood he has just split so liberally, for fire consumes and is itself untouched, unchanged. He leaps from target to target, and there is no hesitation in his moves as he hunts down friend and foe alike.
(There is no hesitation now, as he rolls Tseng over, leaning over to devour his lips, for fire is always hungry, always unsatisfied.)
Tseng himself is shadow, the darkness of a pool at midnight, where no light can pierce its depths. He is stillness where Reno is motion, not a ripple to break the surface, not even in the face of that burning inferno.
(Even now he smiles in the face of Reno’s passion, motions calm and unhurried as he works off the other’s shirt - practice directions state that all Department members are to wear a tie when on duty, Reno - even now there is no flush across his face as he pushes Reno down again into the sheets.)
He is the barrier that holds the fire in check. He is
(Pushing Reno down, teeth against his neck, fingers trailing down his bare chest as his other hand reaches for his belt.)
the one who meets and extinguishes that fire, bringing it back to flickering embers at the end of the day. He is depths unplugged, and to find the bottom one must drown in the deep.
(Boss, you’re distracted today.
Then I shall give you my full attention.)
Elena doesn’t understand them. He can see it in her eyes, the silent, almost envious query of why him how could you two, who are so different, ever work and he regrets the pain he causes her. But she is like the wind, ever changing, difficult to pin down, and stronger than she looks. She will pull through. He is sure of that.
Rufus watches them from afar: contemplative, analytic. If he thinks anything of them, if he has drawn any conclusions in the ever turning gears of his head, then Tseng does not know of it. For Rufus is light, and while it shines the way for others to see, it is not something you see at all.
Rude watches them and perhaps understands. Solid, reliable, he is the rock that they stand on in times of turmoil, the ground beneath their feet and the wall at their back. He has shielded their transgressions from the all seeing eye of the Company, back in a time when there was another, less-forgiving President in office. He has been the wall that stood between them in times of conflict, bearing the brunt of Reno’s anger, softening the harsh silence on Tseng’s own part. He is there, always, but like a wall, he judges not, says nothing, simply accepts them for what they are.
(And Reno arches upwards under his touch, ever so responsive, and clothes are gone and it is simply a matter of movement now, a dance long perfected, set to the accompaniment of soft exhales.)
But there is more to them than just their differences. There is a harmony in their moves, something bone deep: instinctive. Something that makes them complement, not conflict. Something that brings them together
(And Reno’s fingers are gripping so tight on his shoulders as Tseng slides into him)
that makes them more than the sum of just their component parts.
(And Reno’s lips are on his own, their tongues winding against each other until Tseng draws back, thrusts forward again, and Reno’s breath is warm against his cheek)
For he knows that while he can and does quench this fire, oftentimes he is the one who propels it to greater heights, to shape it and hone it and turn it onto the world, to be more than it could ever be. And in turn, he is warmed by it, guided, led to places he would never otherwise go. He is the hunter chasing the firebird, deep into the forests of the night, and he will not look back.
(Their hips slam together, both of them moving at the same time, and his heart is pounding so hard he can almost hear it, and Reno’s eyes are shut, head thrown back, lips red and parted)
They are Turks, and that designation has always been far, far more than a mere job description. It is name that sinks down to their very core, the weight of the legacies of ages, the-
(Faster now: Reno’s hands on his face, calling him back, and his train of thought is shattered, and they are plunging through space)
They are Turks, and bound by codes both written and unwritten, bonded in blood and shared burdens and
(They climax together, and freeze, caught in time. A single, perfect moment.
Caught, suspended, threaded through infinity.
Then Tseng sighs, and Reno grins, and they fall to the sheets, one dark and one bright and)
Nothing can come between them.
Rating: R for semi-graphic sex
Pairings: Tseng/Reno
Tseng and Reno and elements. Bad metaphoric speculation on the hows and whys of the pairing.
Please do me a favour and be nice when pointing out just how badly this is written ^_^. I know it doesn't work and it falls apart halfway (like Tseng's train of thought 8D), but it was a horribly rushed job for celes_grant. I'll do a better job next time!
They say that opposites attract.
Perhaps this is true, Tseng reflects, for there could hardly be a more contrasting pair than both of them. Reno is fire-bright, not just in the brilliance of his hair
(hair that cascades down his back as Tseng’s fingers find and slip off the restraining tie, allowing those glimmering strands to run through his fingers)
but in his personality. He is as untamable as a wild fire, as quick to anger and just as deadly. He stands in the middle of the battlefield, untouched by the blood he has just split so liberally, for fire consumes and is itself untouched, unchanged. He leaps from target to target, and there is no hesitation in his moves as he hunts down friend and foe alike.
(There is no hesitation now, as he rolls Tseng over, leaning over to devour his lips, for fire is always hungry, always unsatisfied.)
Tseng himself is shadow, the darkness of a pool at midnight, where no light can pierce its depths. He is stillness where Reno is motion, not a ripple to break the surface, not even in the face of that burning inferno.
(Even now he smiles in the face of Reno’s passion, motions calm and unhurried as he works off the other’s shirt - practice directions state that all Department members are to wear a tie when on duty, Reno - even now there is no flush across his face as he pushes Reno down again into the sheets.)
He is the barrier that holds the fire in check. He is
(Pushing Reno down, teeth against his neck, fingers trailing down his bare chest as his other hand reaches for his belt.)
the one who meets and extinguishes that fire, bringing it back to flickering embers at the end of the day. He is depths unplugged, and to find the bottom one must drown in the deep.
(Boss, you’re distracted today.
Then I shall give you my full attention.)
Elena doesn’t understand them. He can see it in her eyes, the silent, almost envious query of why him how could you two, who are so different, ever work and he regrets the pain he causes her. But she is like the wind, ever changing, difficult to pin down, and stronger than she looks. She will pull through. He is sure of that.
Rufus watches them from afar: contemplative, analytic. If he thinks anything of them, if he has drawn any conclusions in the ever turning gears of his head, then Tseng does not know of it. For Rufus is light, and while it shines the way for others to see, it is not something you see at all.
Rude watches them and perhaps understands. Solid, reliable, he is the rock that they stand on in times of turmoil, the ground beneath their feet and the wall at their back. He has shielded their transgressions from the all seeing eye of the Company, back in a time when there was another, less-forgiving President in office. He has been the wall that stood between them in times of conflict, bearing the brunt of Reno’s anger, softening the harsh silence on Tseng’s own part. He is there, always, but like a wall, he judges not, says nothing, simply accepts them for what they are.
(And Reno arches upwards under his touch, ever so responsive, and clothes are gone and it is simply a matter of movement now, a dance long perfected, set to the accompaniment of soft exhales.)
But there is more to them than just their differences. There is a harmony in their moves, something bone deep: instinctive. Something that makes them complement, not conflict. Something that brings them together
(And Reno’s fingers are gripping so tight on his shoulders as Tseng slides into him)
that makes them more than the sum of just their component parts.
(And Reno’s lips are on his own, their tongues winding against each other until Tseng draws back, thrusts forward again, and Reno’s breath is warm against his cheek)
For he knows that while he can and does quench this fire, oftentimes he is the one who propels it to greater heights, to shape it and hone it and turn it onto the world, to be more than it could ever be. And in turn, he is warmed by it, guided, led to places he would never otherwise go. He is the hunter chasing the firebird, deep into the forests of the night, and he will not look back.
(Their hips slam together, both of them moving at the same time, and his heart is pounding so hard he can almost hear it, and Reno’s eyes are shut, head thrown back, lips red and parted)
They are Turks, and that designation has always been far, far more than a mere job description. It is name that sinks down to their very core, the weight of the legacies of ages, the-
(Faster now: Reno’s hands on his face, calling him back, and his train of thought is shattered, and they are plunging through space)
They are Turks, and bound by codes both written and unwritten, bonded in blood and shared burdens and
(They climax together, and freeze, caught in time. A single, perfect moment.
Caught, suspended, threaded through infinity.
Then Tseng sighs, and Reno grins, and they fall to the sheets, one dark and one bright and)
Nothing can come between them.