kingdom hearts | sounding
Kingdom Hearts | Cloud/Leon | 3500 words | unbeta'd. Originally posted 09/07.
Part three of the kink meme, except it's an actual fic. Written for kokanshu, whose prompt was sounding, preferably Cloud as experienced, showing Leon; no bondage. Check tags and prompt for warnings.
Sounding
They each had their own dwelling in Hollow Bastion: that is, private haunts, and habitual quarters for sleep. It would not be accurate to call them homes; aside from Merlin's, which served as headquarters, the rest of the town huddled in empty shadows, and the houses were as deserted as the broken-down castle.
Cloud's house was situated near the far edge of the town, away from the marketplace and overlooking the great dusty valleys which colored their horizon. Leon hadn't been there much, just enough to form a first impression: Cloud's taste was sparse, militant, favoring blacks and gunmetal-grays. Any beauty or interior grace was due purely to the kindness of his friends: there were flowers on the table from Aeris, a scattering of trinkets forgotten by Yuffie, photographs of strange faces or happier memories slotted into various unlikely cracks.
Whenever he came over-to check in, deliver a message, call to war-Leon strained his eyes, searching for a clue; a fracturing of glass, a misplaced bolt: anything to tell him more about the person inside the walls. He found nothing.
Then, one day, the dusty valleys suddenly filled with Heartless and the horizon rang with the sound of clashing spears. Leon, deemed the messenger, ran with easy speed, breathing one, two, one, two: measuring heartbeats, bullets, the distance to Cloud's door.
He barged in without knocking, warnings already unfurling from his lips: Enemies and fight and it's time, come on.
He should have saved his breath; there was no one there but him.
The windows were closed, and so was the door to Cloud's bedroom-but he'd just entered through the front door, which was unlocked. Leon crossed the room and wrapped his fingers around the handle, pulling down without a second thought-this was no time for hesitation, and he'd have wanted the same done for him.
Cloud's room was disappointingly empty. Leon turned to go, mind already flying to the battlefield, but a silver glint caught his eye. He spared a glance: a set of thin and graceful metal rods, roughly the length of his outstretched hand, arranged on a black cloth in perfect vertical lines.
The table they occupied was otherwise bare; there were no personal possessions in sight. Leon closed the door behind him and pushed the image to the back of his mind; there would be time enough, once the Heartless were defeated.
*
The Heartless were predictably overwhelmed, and the inhabitants of the Hollow Bastion Restoration Committee retired to their respective haunts in the weary silence of a job well done. Cloud had been the first at the scene, much to Leon's chagrin, but he left last, climbing back up the rocky slope only when he had ascertained no Heartless were left.
Leon did not mention his visit, or anything else, for that matter. He turned and walked up another path, pins and needles prickling along his arms. The sky was dark with the residue of storms, and Cloud would not appreciate his company. Best leave well enough alone.
*
Hypothetical uses for small thin rods made of stainless steel, straight or curved at the ends, regarded individually or en masse:
a) Weapons
b) Training tools (dexterity? accuracy? note: rods not pointed; throwing rendered pointless)
c) Medical tools
d) Sentimental objects
e) Insignia of rank (c.f. medals)
f) Musical instruments (query: potential hobby?)
g) Eating utensils
h) More of Yuffie's trinkets (query: why singled out from all the rest?)
i) Decorative objects
j) Sexual instruments
k) Sexual instruments
l) Sexua
m)
n)
o)
*
Once the thought had instilled itself in his mind, there was no dislodging it. Leon stalked the length and breadth of his room; moved out to the streets in a haze of claustrophobia; wandered into the castle in a dire bid for solitude. He felt distracted, feverish; bits of fluted metal pipes kept wending their way into his field of vision, making him twitch and jump nervously.
The whole thing was ridiculous. There were thousands of potential uses for the rods. They could be a gift, a trophy, exclusive and lethal SOLDIER apparatus, whatever. He had no clue, nothing but a stolen glance and an overactive imagination.
It just made so much sense.
Leon punched a wall, savagely, and crushed a slender pipeline with mean satisfaction.
*
The next time he visited Cloud's house was quite some time removed. The thought had not faded over the days; like so many other things, it had just been chained down and shoved behind a poker mask. Leon did not forget; he just stopped acting as if he remembered.
"Evening," he said when Cloud opened the door. He had not come unarmed: in one hand he carried a present from Yuffie, in the other a bottle of saké. If he was being forced to run errands, at least he had the foresight to bring along a companion.
("Can you give this to Cloud? Really nice please?" Yuffie had asked, all wide sloe eyes and three shuriken at the tips of her fingers. "I sort of took something of his by accident and he's been sort of pissed at me ever since but I'm sorry, I really am, so this will show him, right? Mind, if it explodes-it shouldn't, but if it does-just run. No worries, eh?"
He'd accepted, of course, because in all other circumstances he would have done the same, and he couldn't let the thought affect his actions, he couldn't, he won't.)
Cloud eyed the present with a wariness born of familiarity. "Will it explode?" He asked in lieu of greeting.
Leon shrugged.
Cloud eyed the saké bottle second. "Come in," he said finally, and moved aside.
The living room was exactly as he'd left it-that is, exactly as he remembered. Leon sat down the kitchen table, adorned only with a thin tier of dust, and set down both parcels. Cloud brought a pair of mismatched teacups, firmly pushing Yuffie's gift aside. Leon sympathized: if he had to open a present from Yuffie, he'd want to be good and sloshed when he did it, too.
It was nearing last light, and the sky was a soft and indecisive pinkish-grey. Leon drowned his shot, looking down at his hands, at the table, then Cloud's hands, fingers strong but slender, loosely curled and perfect for handling delicate objects-
Argh, he thought, but did not say.
Cloud seemed to sense something was wrong anyway. "Leon?" he prompted quietly. Leon shook his head.
"It's nothing." Which Cloud seemed to accept with equanimity as complete and utter crap. He raised an eyebrow, and Leon looked away.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, Cloud took a sip of his own drink, which signaled the dispersion of tension and was his way of saying hey, it's your shit, not mine. Which was the ultimate injustice, of course, because the whole problem was it actually was Cloud's shit, him and his debauching metal rods, and maybe that was what caused Leon to temporarily lose his mind in a haze of confused indignation and blurt,
"Your bloody sexual instruments."
Cloud stared at him.
Now that he'd started, he was utterly incapacitated. Leon stared back, deer-in-the-headlights, mouth as dry as his empty teacup. Stupidly, he had a recollection of his time in the D-District Prison-how monumentally pathetic, after all that, to die by the hand of Cloud Strife in the throes of a puritanical outrage.
Cloud said, "My what?"
"Sexual instruments." Leon muttered into his cup, because it really couldn't get any more humiliating than this. "Little-metal rods. Straight or curved. Stainless."
Cloud stared at him some more. Then, just when Leon had thought they had both frozen in shock, mirrored tablatures, and that any moment Cloud was going to either laugh uproariously or beat the shit out of him; against all odds he said, "How did you know?"
How did he-?
This was unexpected.
"I-I didn't." Leon said, then, because on its own the sentence sounded demented and completely inadequate, he reluctantly told of his accidental foray on the day of the battle. It felt as if every word was being dragged out of him by fishhook: maybe it was contrition, or nerves, or introversion rearing its ugly head, but he wanted nothing more than to shut up, run away, never open his mouth again. He wanted to flee with his gunblade and go brood.
By the time he finished, he felt shameful and ill, face glowing with ruddy humiliation. Cloud's eyes were an unfathomable blue, staring out at him from a head tilted curiously to the side.
"But I thought you didn't know what they were?"
"I"-pictured-"guessed." Leon said. "It seemed the most likely option."
"I see." Cloud said, sounding like he didn't really. "And this is a problem?" His voice took on a sharper edge, defensive; as if Leon was the one who would fly into a fit of morally superior apoplexy.
"No! Of course not. I-no." Leon would have shaken his head, but Cloud's gaze kept him riveted, unwilling to turn away. "This is... intimate territory." He paused awkwardly, gathering words. "The thought was, it was. Distracting."
"Oh." Cloud made it sound as if Leon had suddenly made everything clear, as if he'd just explained the Unified Theory of Inappropriate Metal-Shafted Deviancy. And suddenly, though his expression and pose remained the same, something was very different in the way he looked. Specifically, the way he looked at Leon.
Leon didn't shiver, or if he did, the leather jacket hid it. He definitely felt a chill, though.
"Are you," Cloud sounded uncertain and edgy, as if the fishhook had now lodged itself in his throat instead of Leon's. The conflict of wills was practically visible, betrayed by the minute twitches of his mouth. "Do you. I mean. Are you." He swallowed. "Curious?"
Oh. Leon tilted his head backwards a fraction, raising his chin, slightly arching his eyebrows. If there was a Unified Theory, he felt the prize ought to go to Cloud.
He didn't trust his voice, which had gone embarrassingly husky; just nodded once instead. Cloud's eyes flitted from Leon's to the bedroom door and back again. Then he rose.
"Get up." He said, and his gaze nailed Leon so thoroughly to his chair, left him impaled and paralyzed and abruptly breathless. His eyes were so fucking blue.
Leon got up.
*
Cloud's bedroom remained true to its initial impression: dim, austere, shaded in a mixture of grays and the red twilight bleeding in from the uncurtained window. There was a spacious bed, sheets the same dull color as Cloud's tattered cloak. On the table, an assortment of metal rods, gleaming with faux innocence.
They were on the bed. He and Cloud, together. Pretty thoroughly naked. And Cloud had his cock in his mouth.
"Aaaaahh-"
Cloud hummed assent, and pressed the hard tip of his tongue against Leon's slit.
"Aaaaahhhhh-!"
The mouth around him was hot and full of teeth and completely fucking glorious. Cloud muttered something which might have been "first time?" or might have been even more deprecating, but he was hampered by Leon's cock filling his mouth, a sight so beautiful Leon could only writhe and moan his happy agreement.
Then Cloud-where did he learn these things? Leon's mind cried as it burbled into incoherency-he did this thing with his teeth, right at the tip, and oh hell, oh hell, Leon felt like he'd been struck by lightning and his fists were clenched too-tight and his hair was sticking to his forehead, cheekbones, tongue, his skin was on fire and oh bloody fucking hell-
He resurfaced a few moments later, panting, spitting stray bits of hair from his mouth.
"What-Cloud. Fuck. What."
Cloud smirked at him, not quite as disheveled, but definitely pinkish around the ears. Naturally, his hair remained unaffected.
"Been a long time, Leon?"
"Screw you," Leon muttered, but Cloud had already moved on, rummaging about the desk, holding up a thin shining metal rod.
Leon's mouth suddenly went dry.
Cloud looked at him, the same as that look outside, that look of come to think of it, I really did do a lot of amazing shit, and that makes you my bitch, bitch. "This is called a sound." He said, and his voice was unusually low. "It's what you saw when you first came in. They're used in urethral sounding."
"In-what?" Leon watched, transfixed. It seemed to glimmer at him.
"Urethral sounding." Cloud repeated patiently, and clambered back on the bed. He was hard, scarred, colored white and gold; as different from Riona as could be. Leon would have let his gaze stray, but the metal sound dominated his field of vision. He remembered the vertical lines, the wake of crushed pipes he'd left behind.
"What's that?"
"The sound is inserted into the urethra." Cloud began, took one look at Leon, and switched tactics. "Into your penis."
"This?" Leon blinked. "Into my-no way."
"Yes."
"I'm not that curious, Strife. Fuck it."
In one easy movement, Cloud was on top of him, pressing down in all the right points, pinning him to the bed and touching his mouth to Leon's ear.
"Do you trust me?"
Leon opened his mouth. Closed it again.
"Think carefully." He didn't say anything else, didn't argue or cajole, just this warning: think before you speak.
Leon swallowed, neatly bereft of words. Cloud didn't repeat the question; just looked at him silently.
"Yes." Leon breathed.
"Then I need you to lie back." Cloud said, but immediately seemed to change his mind, pressing down on Leon's shoulders and kissing him hard on the mouth. The proximity prompted a knee-jerk stab of terror: being pinned down, unable to move, naked as the day he was born and too helpless for comfort-but Cloud seemed to understand; he shifted just so, and now his hand was tangled up in Leon's hair, his mouth softened, allowing Leon a chance to reciprocate, to act. He arched upwards and felt Cloud move with him: hell, that was good, that was great.
Cloud broke free, breathing through his mouth. "Damnit," he said at length, "I hadn't meant to do that."
"Just slipped out, did it?" Leon asked, and was rewarded with a narrow-eyed glare for his trouble. He felt a bit more comfortable now, not so much a stranger in a strange land: he acquiesced when Cloud's hands pushed his hips down, and didn't feel a quite-so-urgent need to hide behind a poker mask.
"Any reason I'm spread-eagle like this?"
"Yes." Cloud said, although to Leon's frustration, he didn't elaborate; just took up the sound rod, started rubbing its length with some sort of gel, and suddenly it occurred to Leon that this thing was supposed to go inside his dick and oh no, oh, oh shit.
His erection gave a premature whimper, and died.
Cloud noticed, of course, but seemed unfazed. He twirled the rod between his fingers, getting his hands good and slick, and then leaned down over Leon, back arched like an enormous tiger's.
"Look at me," was all he said, and Leon did; he stared into Cloud's eyes and didn't look down, just focused on that crazy glowing blue-Mako eyes, SOLDIER eyes, reflecting all his doubts and fears, taking everything in and giving nothing back but strength, faith, and that inexorable question: do you trust me?
He saw Cloud's lips form the words "don't move" just as he felt the tip of the sound pushing against his slit, pushing slowly, maddeningly-then it was in.
It took all his discipline not to shout, to clench, curl up and thrash and run away from this unbearable vulnerability lapping at his every nerve. Trust, he thought, and with that came control: he took a big, shuddering breath, and tried to relax himself into the mattress. Cloud hadn't broken eye contact, not once: he leaned in close, eyelashes brushing Leon's own, and slowly began to push in the sound, unblinking; looking as frozen and paralyzed as Leon felt.
He felt-his mind broke down at the thought. He couldn't put it in words, didn't even try; just gulped in breath after shaky breath, sweating blood onto the mattress. He was hot, cold, hot again: the sound was sinking in on its own now, a pressure where one was never meant to exist, moving the wrong way, his hole was burning like crazy and it was slip-sliding into his body and oh hell he was going to scream-
Suddenly, Cloud's fingers were there, gripping the sound and stopping it from entering further. His other hand, Leon noticed belatedly, was at the base of Leon's cock, massaging the area and soothing the clenched muscles slightly. He was supporting himself on one elbow, looming overhead in an awkward position, abdomen and forearm muscles rigid with tension.
"What now?" Leon managed to ask. His voice was completely gone, throat raw from panting, mouth dry; he was surprised he remembered himself enough to form coherent words.
Cloud just shot him an unfathomable look-or maybe it was fathomable, because Leon found himself lying back without a word, letters emblazoned in his brain like fire-wheels: trust me. Yeah, he was starting to get the hang of it.
"We're at the entrance of your bladder." Cloud muttered, and Leon looked up in dizzy surprise; he thought the game was you shut up, I puncture your cock. "Right next to your prostate gland."
"My what?" Leon was about to ask, but then Cloud twitched his fingers-not even a proper jerk, just movement glimpsed from the corner of his eye, and suddenly Leon's vision flashed with red and he must have blacked out, had a spasm, something, because Cloud was smothering him into the mattress, face pressed against his throat and grinding "don't move, don't move, you idiot," his hand still miraculously steady; Leon was trembling with the force of it, that tiny spot right there which punched out his lights, unbelievable, inexpressible, a fucking tidal wave in the exact center of his navel, fucking hell.
They stayed like that for a few moments, slowly climbing down from the initial high, Leon's cock stiffly impaled between them. Cloud drew himself back up, eyes once again demanding focus, and when Leon was ready to look back up at him, he started again-slow, tiny strokes, almost imperceptible, rubbing against his insides, everywhere at once.
Leon was ready this time, or as ready as anyone could be, anyway: he didn't move, just fisted his hands into the mattress and shut his eyes tight. His slit felt painfully distended, but the sensation blended in with the pleasure shooting along his body; it was good and bad and hell, too complex to explain, like the spiraling patterns of a Keyblade, like fucking magic.
There was a constant litany playing through his mind: fuck and oh and more and trust, trust, trust. Every time he opened his eyes, Cloud was right there above him, staring down and in, flushed and wild-haired and looking absolutely beautiful.
It built up, slowly after that first-time explosion, but then it came like a storm: "I can't-shit-" Leon felt his stomach muscles clench, the dizzy rush of blood to his navel. He panicked-how could a guy orgasm with a metal pole stuffed through his dick?-but Cloud was quick and careful, gripping the sound with precision and slowly withdrawing it. This, then, was natural, and Leon felt his balls contract, the whole of his lower body curl up like a tightly-furled ribbon, heat rising from his toes to his hips and then the tip of the sound was clear, his slit was free, and he could thrash and move and drag Cloud down for a kiss as he came and came and came.
*
He zoned in again more or less at midnight, utterly bereft except for vague memories of Cloud bustling him into the bathroom, telling him to clean out his bladder; a feeble and quickly-rejected attempt on his part to return the favor; nuzzling into the pillows and feeling as if he'd just fought the bloody Heartless battle all over again, twice in quick succession.
("You do this a lot?" He had asked, as Cloud wiped off the sound and replaced it in neat constellation with its fellows.
"Sometimes." Cloud had said, which rather missed the point, but Leon was too tired to argue, wiped blank with exhaustion and strain and the pleasant post-coital throbbing of his nervous system.
He'd settled on his back, falling into the easy, elbow-tucked posture of sleep, but Cloud had clambered on and thrown a strong arm over him, pressing their bodies together; after a moment of surprise, Leon had loosened despite himself and felt the habitual frown ease from his brow. It was not unpleasant, this impromptu transaction of warmth.)
Cloud was breathing softly against his neck, quiet and nearby. His hair was as incongruous as ever. Leon shifted, and squinted against a sudden glare: from the table, a set of smooth metal sounds gleamed silver in the night.
They were definitely not innocent, he decided, but not exactly evil, either. Like the best of weapons: earned by mutual trust.
All characters © their respective owners; I claim no right nor profit.
Part three of the kink meme, except it's an actual fic. Written for kokanshu, whose prompt was sounding, preferably Cloud as experienced, showing Leon; no bondage. Check tags and prompt for warnings.
Sounding
They each had their own dwelling in Hollow Bastion: that is, private haunts, and habitual quarters for sleep. It would not be accurate to call them homes; aside from Merlin's, which served as headquarters, the rest of the town huddled in empty shadows, and the houses were as deserted as the broken-down castle.
Cloud's house was situated near the far edge of the town, away from the marketplace and overlooking the great dusty valleys which colored their horizon. Leon hadn't been there much, just enough to form a first impression: Cloud's taste was sparse, militant, favoring blacks and gunmetal-grays. Any beauty or interior grace was due purely to the kindness of his friends: there were flowers on the table from Aeris, a scattering of trinkets forgotten by Yuffie, photographs of strange faces or happier memories slotted into various unlikely cracks.
Whenever he came over-to check in, deliver a message, call to war-Leon strained his eyes, searching for a clue; a fracturing of glass, a misplaced bolt: anything to tell him more about the person inside the walls. He found nothing.
Then, one day, the dusty valleys suddenly filled with Heartless and the horizon rang with the sound of clashing spears. Leon, deemed the messenger, ran with easy speed, breathing one, two, one, two: measuring heartbeats, bullets, the distance to Cloud's door.
He barged in without knocking, warnings already unfurling from his lips: Enemies and fight and it's time, come on.
He should have saved his breath; there was no one there but him.
The windows were closed, and so was the door to Cloud's bedroom-but he'd just entered through the front door, which was unlocked. Leon crossed the room and wrapped his fingers around the handle, pulling down without a second thought-this was no time for hesitation, and he'd have wanted the same done for him.
Cloud's room was disappointingly empty. Leon turned to go, mind already flying to the battlefield, but a silver glint caught his eye. He spared a glance: a set of thin and graceful metal rods, roughly the length of his outstretched hand, arranged on a black cloth in perfect vertical lines.
The table they occupied was otherwise bare; there were no personal possessions in sight. Leon closed the door behind him and pushed the image to the back of his mind; there would be time enough, once the Heartless were defeated.
*
The Heartless were predictably overwhelmed, and the inhabitants of the Hollow Bastion Restoration Committee retired to their respective haunts in the weary silence of a job well done. Cloud had been the first at the scene, much to Leon's chagrin, but he left last, climbing back up the rocky slope only when he had ascertained no Heartless were left.
Leon did not mention his visit, or anything else, for that matter. He turned and walked up another path, pins and needles prickling along his arms. The sky was dark with the residue of storms, and Cloud would not appreciate his company. Best leave well enough alone.
*
Hypothetical uses for small thin rods made of stainless steel, straight or curved at the ends, regarded individually or en masse:
a) Weapons
b) Training tools (dexterity? accuracy? note: rods not pointed; throwing rendered pointless)
c) Medical tools
d) Sentimental objects
e) Insignia of rank (c.f. medals)
f) Musical instruments (query: potential hobby?)
g) Eating utensils
h) More of Yuffie's trinkets (query: why singled out from all the rest?)
i) Decorative objects
j) Sexual instruments
k) Sexual instruments
l) Sexua
m)
n)
o)
*
Once the thought had instilled itself in his mind, there was no dislodging it. Leon stalked the length and breadth of his room; moved out to the streets in a haze of claustrophobia; wandered into the castle in a dire bid for solitude. He felt distracted, feverish; bits of fluted metal pipes kept wending their way into his field of vision, making him twitch and jump nervously.
The whole thing was ridiculous. There were thousands of potential uses for the rods. They could be a gift, a trophy, exclusive and lethal SOLDIER apparatus, whatever. He had no clue, nothing but a stolen glance and an overactive imagination.
It just made so much sense.
Leon punched a wall, savagely, and crushed a slender pipeline with mean satisfaction.
*
The next time he visited Cloud's house was quite some time removed. The thought had not faded over the days; like so many other things, it had just been chained down and shoved behind a poker mask. Leon did not forget; he just stopped acting as if he remembered.
"Evening," he said when Cloud opened the door. He had not come unarmed: in one hand he carried a present from Yuffie, in the other a bottle of saké. If he was being forced to run errands, at least he had the foresight to bring along a companion.
("Can you give this to Cloud? Really nice please?" Yuffie had asked, all wide sloe eyes and three shuriken at the tips of her fingers. "I sort of took something of his by accident and he's been sort of pissed at me ever since but I'm sorry, I really am, so this will show him, right? Mind, if it explodes-it shouldn't, but if it does-just run. No worries, eh?"
He'd accepted, of course, because in all other circumstances he would have done the same, and he couldn't let the thought affect his actions, he couldn't, he won't.)
Cloud eyed the present with a wariness born of familiarity. "Will it explode?" He asked in lieu of greeting.
Leon shrugged.
Cloud eyed the saké bottle second. "Come in," he said finally, and moved aside.
The living room was exactly as he'd left it-that is, exactly as he remembered. Leon sat down the kitchen table, adorned only with a thin tier of dust, and set down both parcels. Cloud brought a pair of mismatched teacups, firmly pushing Yuffie's gift aside. Leon sympathized: if he had to open a present from Yuffie, he'd want to be good and sloshed when he did it, too.
It was nearing last light, and the sky was a soft and indecisive pinkish-grey. Leon drowned his shot, looking down at his hands, at the table, then Cloud's hands, fingers strong but slender, loosely curled and perfect for handling delicate objects-
Argh, he thought, but did not say.
Cloud seemed to sense something was wrong anyway. "Leon?" he prompted quietly. Leon shook his head.
"It's nothing." Which Cloud seemed to accept with equanimity as complete and utter crap. He raised an eyebrow, and Leon looked away.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, Cloud took a sip of his own drink, which signaled the dispersion of tension and was his way of saying hey, it's your shit, not mine. Which was the ultimate injustice, of course, because the whole problem was it actually was Cloud's shit, him and his debauching metal rods, and maybe that was what caused Leon to temporarily lose his mind in a haze of confused indignation and blurt,
"Your bloody sexual instruments."
Cloud stared at him.
Now that he'd started, he was utterly incapacitated. Leon stared back, deer-in-the-headlights, mouth as dry as his empty teacup. Stupidly, he had a recollection of his time in the D-District Prison-how monumentally pathetic, after all that, to die by the hand of Cloud Strife in the throes of a puritanical outrage.
Cloud said, "My what?"
"Sexual instruments." Leon muttered into his cup, because it really couldn't get any more humiliating than this. "Little-metal rods. Straight or curved. Stainless."
Cloud stared at him some more. Then, just when Leon had thought they had both frozen in shock, mirrored tablatures, and that any moment Cloud was going to either laugh uproariously or beat the shit out of him; against all odds he said, "How did you know?"
How did he-?
This was unexpected.
"I-I didn't." Leon said, then, because on its own the sentence sounded demented and completely inadequate, he reluctantly told of his accidental foray on the day of the battle. It felt as if every word was being dragged out of him by fishhook: maybe it was contrition, or nerves, or introversion rearing its ugly head, but he wanted nothing more than to shut up, run away, never open his mouth again. He wanted to flee with his gunblade and go brood.
By the time he finished, he felt shameful and ill, face glowing with ruddy humiliation. Cloud's eyes were an unfathomable blue, staring out at him from a head tilted curiously to the side.
"But I thought you didn't know what they were?"
"I"-pictured-"guessed." Leon said. "It seemed the most likely option."
"I see." Cloud said, sounding like he didn't really. "And this is a problem?" His voice took on a sharper edge, defensive; as if Leon was the one who would fly into a fit of morally superior apoplexy.
"No! Of course not. I-no." Leon would have shaken his head, but Cloud's gaze kept him riveted, unwilling to turn away. "This is... intimate territory." He paused awkwardly, gathering words. "The thought was, it was. Distracting."
"Oh." Cloud made it sound as if Leon had suddenly made everything clear, as if he'd just explained the Unified Theory of Inappropriate Metal-Shafted Deviancy. And suddenly, though his expression and pose remained the same, something was very different in the way he looked. Specifically, the way he looked at Leon.
Leon didn't shiver, or if he did, the leather jacket hid it. He definitely felt a chill, though.
"Are you," Cloud sounded uncertain and edgy, as if the fishhook had now lodged itself in his throat instead of Leon's. The conflict of wills was practically visible, betrayed by the minute twitches of his mouth. "Do you. I mean. Are you." He swallowed. "Curious?"
Oh. Leon tilted his head backwards a fraction, raising his chin, slightly arching his eyebrows. If there was a Unified Theory, he felt the prize ought to go to Cloud.
He didn't trust his voice, which had gone embarrassingly husky; just nodded once instead. Cloud's eyes flitted from Leon's to the bedroom door and back again. Then he rose.
"Get up." He said, and his gaze nailed Leon so thoroughly to his chair, left him impaled and paralyzed and abruptly breathless. His eyes were so fucking blue.
Leon got up.
*
Cloud's bedroom remained true to its initial impression: dim, austere, shaded in a mixture of grays and the red twilight bleeding in from the uncurtained window. There was a spacious bed, sheets the same dull color as Cloud's tattered cloak. On the table, an assortment of metal rods, gleaming with faux innocence.
They were on the bed. He and Cloud, together. Pretty thoroughly naked. And Cloud had his cock in his mouth.
"Aaaaahh-"
Cloud hummed assent, and pressed the hard tip of his tongue against Leon's slit.
"Aaaaahhhhh-!"
The mouth around him was hot and full of teeth and completely fucking glorious. Cloud muttered something which might have been "first time?" or might have been even more deprecating, but he was hampered by Leon's cock filling his mouth, a sight so beautiful Leon could only writhe and moan his happy agreement.
Then Cloud-where did he learn these things? Leon's mind cried as it burbled into incoherency-he did this thing with his teeth, right at the tip, and oh hell, oh hell, Leon felt like he'd been struck by lightning and his fists were clenched too-tight and his hair was sticking to his forehead, cheekbones, tongue, his skin was on fire and oh bloody fucking hell-
He resurfaced a few moments later, panting, spitting stray bits of hair from his mouth.
"What-Cloud. Fuck. What."
Cloud smirked at him, not quite as disheveled, but definitely pinkish around the ears. Naturally, his hair remained unaffected.
"Been a long time, Leon?"
"Screw you," Leon muttered, but Cloud had already moved on, rummaging about the desk, holding up a thin shining metal rod.
Leon's mouth suddenly went dry.
Cloud looked at him, the same as that look outside, that look of come to think of it, I really did do a lot of amazing shit, and that makes you my bitch, bitch. "This is called a sound." He said, and his voice was unusually low. "It's what you saw when you first came in. They're used in urethral sounding."
"In-what?" Leon watched, transfixed. It seemed to glimmer at him.
"Urethral sounding." Cloud repeated patiently, and clambered back on the bed. He was hard, scarred, colored white and gold; as different from Riona as could be. Leon would have let his gaze stray, but the metal sound dominated his field of vision. He remembered the vertical lines, the wake of crushed pipes he'd left behind.
"What's that?"
"The sound is inserted into the urethra." Cloud began, took one look at Leon, and switched tactics. "Into your penis."
"This?" Leon blinked. "Into my-no way."
"Yes."
"I'm not that curious, Strife. Fuck it."
In one easy movement, Cloud was on top of him, pressing down in all the right points, pinning him to the bed and touching his mouth to Leon's ear.
"Do you trust me?"
Leon opened his mouth. Closed it again.
"Think carefully." He didn't say anything else, didn't argue or cajole, just this warning: think before you speak.
Leon swallowed, neatly bereft of words. Cloud didn't repeat the question; just looked at him silently.
"Yes." Leon breathed.
"Then I need you to lie back." Cloud said, but immediately seemed to change his mind, pressing down on Leon's shoulders and kissing him hard on the mouth. The proximity prompted a knee-jerk stab of terror: being pinned down, unable to move, naked as the day he was born and too helpless for comfort-but Cloud seemed to understand; he shifted just so, and now his hand was tangled up in Leon's hair, his mouth softened, allowing Leon a chance to reciprocate, to act. He arched upwards and felt Cloud move with him: hell, that was good, that was great.
Cloud broke free, breathing through his mouth. "Damnit," he said at length, "I hadn't meant to do that."
"Just slipped out, did it?" Leon asked, and was rewarded with a narrow-eyed glare for his trouble. He felt a bit more comfortable now, not so much a stranger in a strange land: he acquiesced when Cloud's hands pushed his hips down, and didn't feel a quite-so-urgent need to hide behind a poker mask.
"Any reason I'm spread-eagle like this?"
"Yes." Cloud said, although to Leon's frustration, he didn't elaborate; just took up the sound rod, started rubbing its length with some sort of gel, and suddenly it occurred to Leon that this thing was supposed to go inside his dick and oh no, oh, oh shit.
His erection gave a premature whimper, and died.
Cloud noticed, of course, but seemed unfazed. He twirled the rod between his fingers, getting his hands good and slick, and then leaned down over Leon, back arched like an enormous tiger's.
"Look at me," was all he said, and Leon did; he stared into Cloud's eyes and didn't look down, just focused on that crazy glowing blue-Mako eyes, SOLDIER eyes, reflecting all his doubts and fears, taking everything in and giving nothing back but strength, faith, and that inexorable question: do you trust me?
He saw Cloud's lips form the words "don't move" just as he felt the tip of the sound pushing against his slit, pushing slowly, maddeningly-then it was in.
It took all his discipline not to shout, to clench, curl up and thrash and run away from this unbearable vulnerability lapping at his every nerve. Trust, he thought, and with that came control: he took a big, shuddering breath, and tried to relax himself into the mattress. Cloud hadn't broken eye contact, not once: he leaned in close, eyelashes brushing Leon's own, and slowly began to push in the sound, unblinking; looking as frozen and paralyzed as Leon felt.
He felt-his mind broke down at the thought. He couldn't put it in words, didn't even try; just gulped in breath after shaky breath, sweating blood onto the mattress. He was hot, cold, hot again: the sound was sinking in on its own now, a pressure where one was never meant to exist, moving the wrong way, his hole was burning like crazy and it was slip-sliding into his body and oh hell he was going to scream-
Suddenly, Cloud's fingers were there, gripping the sound and stopping it from entering further. His other hand, Leon noticed belatedly, was at the base of Leon's cock, massaging the area and soothing the clenched muscles slightly. He was supporting himself on one elbow, looming overhead in an awkward position, abdomen and forearm muscles rigid with tension.
"What now?" Leon managed to ask. His voice was completely gone, throat raw from panting, mouth dry; he was surprised he remembered himself enough to form coherent words.
Cloud just shot him an unfathomable look-or maybe it was fathomable, because Leon found himself lying back without a word, letters emblazoned in his brain like fire-wheels: trust me. Yeah, he was starting to get the hang of it.
"We're at the entrance of your bladder." Cloud muttered, and Leon looked up in dizzy surprise; he thought the game was you shut up, I puncture your cock. "Right next to your prostate gland."
"My what?" Leon was about to ask, but then Cloud twitched his fingers-not even a proper jerk, just movement glimpsed from the corner of his eye, and suddenly Leon's vision flashed with red and he must have blacked out, had a spasm, something, because Cloud was smothering him into the mattress, face pressed against his throat and grinding "don't move, don't move, you idiot," his hand still miraculously steady; Leon was trembling with the force of it, that tiny spot right there which punched out his lights, unbelievable, inexpressible, a fucking tidal wave in the exact center of his navel, fucking hell.
They stayed like that for a few moments, slowly climbing down from the initial high, Leon's cock stiffly impaled between them. Cloud drew himself back up, eyes once again demanding focus, and when Leon was ready to look back up at him, he started again-slow, tiny strokes, almost imperceptible, rubbing against his insides, everywhere at once.
Leon was ready this time, or as ready as anyone could be, anyway: he didn't move, just fisted his hands into the mattress and shut his eyes tight. His slit felt painfully distended, but the sensation blended in with the pleasure shooting along his body; it was good and bad and hell, too complex to explain, like the spiraling patterns of a Keyblade, like fucking magic.
There was a constant litany playing through his mind: fuck and oh and more and trust, trust, trust. Every time he opened his eyes, Cloud was right there above him, staring down and in, flushed and wild-haired and looking absolutely beautiful.
It built up, slowly after that first-time explosion, but then it came like a storm: "I can't-shit-" Leon felt his stomach muscles clench, the dizzy rush of blood to his navel. He panicked-how could a guy orgasm with a metal pole stuffed through his dick?-but Cloud was quick and careful, gripping the sound with precision and slowly withdrawing it. This, then, was natural, and Leon felt his balls contract, the whole of his lower body curl up like a tightly-furled ribbon, heat rising from his toes to his hips and then the tip of the sound was clear, his slit was free, and he could thrash and move and drag Cloud down for a kiss as he came and came and came.
*
He zoned in again more or less at midnight, utterly bereft except for vague memories of Cloud bustling him into the bathroom, telling him to clean out his bladder; a feeble and quickly-rejected attempt on his part to return the favor; nuzzling into the pillows and feeling as if he'd just fought the bloody Heartless battle all over again, twice in quick succession.
("You do this a lot?" He had asked, as Cloud wiped off the sound and replaced it in neat constellation with its fellows.
"Sometimes." Cloud had said, which rather missed the point, but Leon was too tired to argue, wiped blank with exhaustion and strain and the pleasant post-coital throbbing of his nervous system.
He'd settled on his back, falling into the easy, elbow-tucked posture of sleep, but Cloud had clambered on and thrown a strong arm over him, pressing their bodies together; after a moment of surprise, Leon had loosened despite himself and felt the habitual frown ease from his brow. It was not unpleasant, this impromptu transaction of warmth.)
Cloud was breathing softly against his neck, quiet and nearby. His hair was as incongruous as ever. Leon shifted, and squinted against a sudden glare: from the table, a set of smooth metal sounds gleamed silver in the night.
They were definitely not innocent, he decided, but not exactly evil, either. Like the best of weapons: earned by mutual trust.
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