Less Than a Ship
Title: Less Than a Ship
Fandom: FFVII AC - Post Advent Children
Characters: Elena x Barret
Rating: R
Format: One-shot
Status: Complete, unpolished, spellchecked.
Words: 749
Summary: What happens when you try to be something you aren't?
Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership of characters or games, only themes within.
Author's Notes: Goaded on by venefica_aura in a group-chat, I had to, I had to. I'm not sorry. :)
Less Than a Ship
She wasn't who he wanted, and he wasn't who she wanted, but she could pretend, fingers running along the metal of his arm, that it was the President's gun, and Rufus was just feeling a little kinky.
Hard to explain away the dark skin, but, that was what blindfolds were for.
She was sleek, under him, on her stomach, thin breasts pressing into the sweat-slick sheets. Her teeth bit into her lower lip, neck stretching out, his hand sprawled over her shoulder blades, hips sinking between her legs, cock to her ass.
No words, never any words, his eyes were as closed as hers, though he didn't have a ShinRa tie wrapped around his head like she did. He didn't want to feel her curves, the slide of her waist into the round of her hips, no, he just wanted to feel the whipcord of muscle down her back, the strength in her shoulders that hid the delicate bone. He just wanted to be not-with-her but with her, sinking into another delicate blond, nails scrabbling over a hard chest.
Too bad for him, Elena thought, grinding out a low moan. His fingers wrapped in her hair, yanking hard and sharp. She did her best not to cry out, and his hand went to her wrists, pinning them over her head, stretching her out, pulling her curves from round to straight, trying to make her more into a him.
Her back strained, spine screaming as she arched, trembling and breaking under Barret's heat before she snapped in half, tight hot heating spiraling up from where he slammed into her.
She lay trembling, feeling the fury unleashed in the large man over her, his hand digging hers into the pillows, fingers arching in pain as her tendons were pulled at awkward angles. Her breathing came in slow, even gasps, pushing out with his thrusts in, and she tried to picture what he saw in his mind.
Barret's hand climbed up the rungs of her spine, and she twisted and melted from girl to man, fair, wispy blonde hair spiking and falling in her eyes.
She twisted from delicate to lean and tight and tough, her cries as he slammed into her over and over dropping to an soft rumble. Barret's hand curled around her ribs, running over flat, tight nipples, pinching and twisting with nails, making her shriek turn to a helpless cry, ripping right out of Cloud's throat and into hers.
Her eyes opened, body still being pounded into the sheets, when she squirmed and then begged. Barret made a noise, part disgust, part amusement, and his hand squirmed down under her thigh, along her stomach and then his fingers grazed her clit, sending her bucking again.
Her palms bit into the sheets as best she could, and she gave up on being anything but Elena, one hand moving to shove away the blindfold, twisting her head to watch Barret over her shoulder. His eyes were cracked open, and his moves were jerking and halting into her as he groaned once and then came, falling to his elbows over her.
His breathing was heavy and sweet on her ear as she lowered her head, his chest grazing along her back.
“Sorry,” she grated out after long minutes of catching their wind, and she hated the way her voice was weak and feminine and not at all soulful like Barret wanted. She winced on the inside, torn between wanting to make the man happy, and disgusted with herself for even agreeing to this sort of thing.
He pushed off of her, pulling away, and she heard the snap of the condom against the inside of the waste bin.
His clothing rustled as he got into it, doing up the buttons with an ease she hadn't thought a one-armed man would have. Elena rolled over onto her back to watch him, one arm propping behind her back, indolent in her nakedness.
It was part of her own private rebellion.
Show him what he was really fucking, that's right, Elena, and maybe he'd stop pretending she wasn't a Turk and was really a member of AVALANCHE. She snorted inwardly at her own foolishness.
“Same time next Thursday, yeah?” Barret asked, belt fastening with a quiet cha-chink.
He met her gaze then, steady and closed, nothing behind his eyes, nothing more than usual, anyway.
“Of course,” she said, and turned over on her side as he let himself out.
Fandom: FFVII AC - Post Advent Children
Characters: Elena x Barret
Rating: R
Format: One-shot
Status: Complete, unpolished, spellchecked.
Words: 749
Summary: What happens when you try to be something you aren't?
Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership of characters or games, only themes within.
Author's Notes: Goaded on by venefica_aura in a group-chat, I had to, I had to. I'm not sorry. :)
Less Than a Ship
She wasn't who he wanted, and he wasn't who she wanted, but she could pretend, fingers running along the metal of his arm, that it was the President's gun, and Rufus was just feeling a little kinky.
Hard to explain away the dark skin, but, that was what blindfolds were for.
She was sleek, under him, on her stomach, thin breasts pressing into the sweat-slick sheets. Her teeth bit into her lower lip, neck stretching out, his hand sprawled over her shoulder blades, hips sinking between her legs, cock to her ass.
No words, never any words, his eyes were as closed as hers, though he didn't have a ShinRa tie wrapped around his head like she did. He didn't want to feel her curves, the slide of her waist into the round of her hips, no, he just wanted to feel the whipcord of muscle down her back, the strength in her shoulders that hid the delicate bone. He just wanted to be not-with-her but with her, sinking into another delicate blond, nails scrabbling over a hard chest.
Too bad for him, Elena thought, grinding out a low moan. His fingers wrapped in her hair, yanking hard and sharp. She did her best not to cry out, and his hand went to her wrists, pinning them over her head, stretching her out, pulling her curves from round to straight, trying to make her more into a him.
Her back strained, spine screaming as she arched, trembling and breaking under Barret's heat before she snapped in half, tight hot heating spiraling up from where he slammed into her.
She lay trembling, feeling the fury unleashed in the large man over her, his hand digging hers into the pillows, fingers arching in pain as her tendons were pulled at awkward angles. Her breathing came in slow, even gasps, pushing out with his thrusts in, and she tried to picture what he saw in his mind.
Barret's hand climbed up the rungs of her spine, and she twisted and melted from girl to man, fair, wispy blonde hair spiking and falling in her eyes.
She twisted from delicate to lean and tight and tough, her cries as he slammed into her over and over dropping to an soft rumble. Barret's hand curled around her ribs, running over flat, tight nipples, pinching and twisting with nails, making her shriek turn to a helpless cry, ripping right out of Cloud's throat and into hers.
Her eyes opened, body still being pounded into the sheets, when she squirmed and then begged. Barret made a noise, part disgust, part amusement, and his hand squirmed down under her thigh, along her stomach and then his fingers grazed her clit, sending her bucking again.
Her palms bit into the sheets as best she could, and she gave up on being anything but Elena, one hand moving to shove away the blindfold, twisting her head to watch Barret over her shoulder. His eyes were cracked open, and his moves were jerking and halting into her as he groaned once and then came, falling to his elbows over her.
His breathing was heavy and sweet on her ear as she lowered her head, his chest grazing along her back.
“Sorry,” she grated out after long minutes of catching their wind, and she hated the way her voice was weak and feminine and not at all soulful like Barret wanted. She winced on the inside, torn between wanting to make the man happy, and disgusted with herself for even agreeing to this sort of thing.
He pushed off of her, pulling away, and she heard the snap of the condom against the inside of the waste bin.
His clothing rustled as he got into it, doing up the buttons with an ease she hadn't thought a one-armed man would have. Elena rolled over onto her back to watch him, one arm propping behind her back, indolent in her nakedness.
It was part of her own private rebellion.
Show him what he was really fucking, that's right, Elena, and maybe he'd stop pretending she wasn't a Turk and was really a member of AVALANCHE. She snorted inwardly at her own foolishness.
“Same time next Thursday, yeah?” Barret asked, belt fastening with a quiet cha-chink.
He met her gaze then, steady and closed, nothing behind his eyes, nothing more than usual, anyway.
“Of course,” she said, and turned over on her side as he let himself out.