f_mystic

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 19:39:49 GMT

Merry Christmas

Present - A WK Aya/Yohji fic - complete

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 16:28:31 GMT

Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Aya/Yohji
Rating: T
Warning: only for the boys kissing and intentional vagueness
Word Count: 1,253

This very short one-shot came to me last night. I never thought to do this type of story for Aya and Yohji, but here it is; I must be in the holiday mood.

The points in the story that are vague were done so intentionally. Warning only for a brief kiss between the boys.

I neither own nor profit from Weiss Kreuz or its characters.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Present

Aya studied the box, contemplating, turning it over in his hands, wondering if he should even bother. Aya-chan had gushed when he had shown her the contents of the box. There was no need to explain it to her; she had known the minute she saw it what he was thinking. He had told her then he wasn’t sure he was even going through with it, but she had insisted on wrapping it for him, promising it would be beautiful, and he had to admit that the glittering gold paper with its bit of red ribbon caught the eye nicely. She had giggled when she presented him with the finished product, and called him sweet as she hung on his arm and made him blush furiously in a way no one else had ever been able to do.

It had felt so much like when they were younger. If he never got another gift in his life, Aya-chan back, alive, conscious, safe, was all the gift he would ever need.

But there was something else Aya wanted. It was selfish, he knew, to want something so badly, as selfish as it was hopeless. He had suppressed this desire easily for so long that he thought his current dilemma would never be an issue, that it might even one day fade away. But then his sister had woken, and his reality had shifted, and it had become clear that repressing this longing was no longer so simple, and that it fading away was no longer a possibility.

Still, he had not yet been able to find the courage to make his wish known. Even now, he debated going through with his plan.

His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the message Aya had sent him.

“Stop thinking about it and just do it, Ran :P No wimping out!”

He texted back “I’ll let you know what happens tomorrow” and went to follow his sister’s advice.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

Yohji breathed deeply, letting the cold, crisp air sting his nose and lungs, and then watched the vapor plume out of his mouth. He had spent the night walking, watching the people around him for the time they were still bustling around on the streets, and thinking about how things had changed and yet some things remained the same.

Like flower shops.

He turned the corner and caught sight of the new shop. It was different from the old one, slightly larger, brighter and airier, but selling flowers was still selling flowers, and though their customers had changed with the location, fangirls seemed to reside all over Japan.

There were no fangirls now, certainly not at this hour, but even today, there hadn’t been any. They had other things to worry about today, other priorities besides fawning over the local florists. He slipped into the back entrance and quietly made his way to his room, trying to let go of the myriad of same-but-not-the-same thoughts that were lingering in his mind, especially the one about a certain someone he was interested in and one in particular concerning himself, neither of which he could find the courage to do anything about.

He pulled his coat off in the semi-dark, not needing the dim light filtering through the window to show him the chair he laid it across. He cast his clothes off in much the same manner, not bothering with any further lighting until he turned to his bed, and spotted the object catching the light on his pillow.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping his eye on the small object, he turned on the bedside lamp and studied the little box wrapped so delicately in gold. This he hadn’t expected, could have never guessed, and though he knew it had to be from one of his teammates, he couldn’t imagine any of them going to the trouble to leave him a surprise gift such as this.

Maybe if he opened it he might have a clue.

He handled it gingerly, doing his best not to tear the paper that had been applied so carefully, and removed the little box from the wrapping. He shook it gently and something rattled softly within. What, he couldn’t begin to guess. Then he lifted the lid.

There was a piece of paper folded on top. He resisted the urge to lift the cotton to see what was beneath until he read the note, his eyes growing wider as they repeatedly scanned over the few words that were typed there, words that were heart-felt, honest and daring. It had been left unsigned, but Yohji knew who he wanted it to be. He could hope.

He pushed the cotton aside and his heart contracted.

Maybe some things didn’t remain so much the same after all.

XOXOXOXOXOX

The house might have been quiet if Omi were not prattling on at a hundred miles an hour. Ken, for his part, should get a prize, Yohji thought, for listening to the chibi, and then upgraded that to a major award when he realized Ken was actually responding in a way that suggested he really was listening to Omi, and not just grunting occasionally to appease.

Yohji smiled and shook his head as he carefully avoided getting snared into the conversation, remaining out of sight as he bypassed the kitchen and made his way to the living room. He sat down at one end of the couch, stretching out, trying to appear casual as he turned to the man on the opposite side who was too intently studying the small Christmas tree that Aya-chan had decorated so meticulously.

But Yohji knew Aya was paying attention. He had to concentrate to achieve a calm tone.

“I feel guilty. I didn’t get you a gift.”

Aya kept his gaze steadfastly on the tree.

“Are you wearing it?”

Yohji slid closer, turning his body so he was facing Aya, curling one knee up on the couch between them, nearly touching, but not quite.

“You’ll have to look to find out.”

There was a moment when Yohji thought Aya might not do it, that Aya might yet back out, Aya whose cheeks were nearly as red as his hair, whose eyes were slightly panicked, and whose breathing was shallower than usual. But then Aya turned slowly, just his head, just enough for him to see.

His gaze fell immediately on the glint of metal, affirming that Yohji had indeed accepted his gift. Still, he didn’t quite believe.

“Does this mean” he stumbled on his words, clearing his throat, that deep voice trembling ever so slightly. “The note. I wasn’t sure about it. I meant it, every word, but do you understand?”

“Aya,” Yohji interrupted the rapid, breathy rambling, “look at me.”

It took time, as if it were a conscientious effort for Aya to shift his gaze to Yohji’s. Moving slowly, maintaining eye contact and letting Aya take in the moment, Yohji closed the space between them until his lips were pressed tenderly to Aya’s.

“I understand,” he murmured, his lips still brushing against Aya’s. He felt Aya finger the warm metal, and it was like heat pulsed through it and into his body, thrumming deliciously along his nerves. Aya wrapped his hand around it, and it was as if he were wrapping it around Yohji’s heart, and their lips met again, clinging gently; a kiss full of promises of things to come.

There would be time later to explain to Yohji about the different forms gifts could take.

Forbidden is not forgotten

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 21:16:05 GMT

Working on Forbidden, which, time-wise, has gotten away from me, but I will hopefully be updating soon. It's absolutely gray and misty out; usually perfect for writing.

Consorting With the Enemy Chapter 5 - A Reno/Tifa fanfic - WiP

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 04:03:52 GMT

It's all under the LJ CUT:

A/N: This chapter was originally much darker, but I took rageofloki's suggestion and edited it down. I want it to be gritty, but not to the point of the characters being un-redeemable. (is that a word? Don't know, don't care.) It's still darker than most everything I write.

Warning: This chapter contains mature/sexually suggestive content and language.
Enjoy.
fire mystic

Chapter V

Tifa managed a block and a half before she made a U-turn and headed straight back to the Shinra building. What right did Tseng have to step in before she had a chance to give them a dose of their own medicine? And Reno? How dare he restrain her? And the fact that he had read her actions well enough to know exactly how to physically dominate her was all the more irritating.
Back in the lobby, she ignored the secretary at the main desk, who seemed unable to decide if stopping her was worth leaving her desk. The desk won out, but Tifa noticed her picking up the phone, and nearly certain that phone call was about her, wondered when the Turks would swoop down on her.
She oriented herself as she walked, heading down the hall in which she had last seen Tseng and Reno. She was well down the hall when it occurred to her that she had no idea where they had been going, but, damn it, if she had to knock randomly on doors to find them, she was not going to leave here without having her say.
It didn’t matter in the end, as she passed a set of secure doors, marked restricted personnel, no less, and the doors opened, allowing a young woman in a lab coat into the hall. Through the door, Tifa caught a glimpse of Tseng talking to Reno and she grabbed the door before it had a chance to swing shut, clearing her throat to make her presence known.
Tseng turned to her, cellphone pressed to his ear.
“There’s no need to worry Sherry. She’s with me. I’ll take care of it.” He flipped closed and pocketed the phone and turned that obscenely mature voice on her. “I thought you were on your way home, Ms. Lockhart. Imagine my surprise, being informed of your return.”
Reno stepped forward, tapping Tseng’s arm in the process.
“I got this, Boss.”
He was already steering Tifa back into the hall, a firm hand on her upper arm.
“How dare you?”
Tifa pulled her arm away, but the door had already closed, the sound of the lock engaging with a snap, closing her off from Tseng. No matter. If she couldn’t give him a piece of her mind, Reno would do just fine.
“I’ve had just as much of this as I can take.” She squared her shoulders indignantly, Reno’s casual demeanor fueling her need to state her case.
“Doesn’t seem that way, with you coming back for more, yo.” His amusement did nothing but irritate her further.
“What makes you think you can push me around? You had no right interfering before with that girl, Aerith.”
His eyes narrowed, intensely focusing on her, the tattoos framing the dangerous glint forming in the depths of his eyes.
“So you were going to take on a whole gang of Turks yourself, huh?”
Tifa nodded vehemently.
“It was the right thing to do! Tseng shouldn’t have interfered and you had no right to put your hands on me!”
“And you think you would have been able to handle them all, yo?” He was grinning again, advancing on her, the tone of his voice shifting to something she hadn’t expected and wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with. “You must be much more experienced than I gave you credit for, Lockhart.”
Oh, yes, Tifa recognized that tone: Suggestive and lascivious, implying a deeper, seedier meaning between the lines.
All she could utter in response was a surprised squawk as he backed her to the wall, his close proximity muddling her thoughts.
“Did you come back here just to bitch?” One hand threaded through her hair until it was securely tangled at the back of her head. “Or was there something else you were after?” The other hand slid down the front of her body, over the curve of her breast, spreading out over the flat of her stomach to curl around the dip of her waist and then over the flair of her hip, gripping, pulling her closer, refusing her retreat.
Tifa ceased her struggling completely as he locked their bodies together. He was aroused, the evidence of which was pressed, quite intentionally, she was sure, into the tenderness of her lower belly.
“You can feel that, can’t you?”
Oh, yeah, it was intentional. Tifa wondered if holding her breath would keep her from inciting further reaction from him. It was quite enough that her anger was bleeding away in the face of a growing erotic awareness.
“You didn’t notice it before, did you? Too busy trying to get away to bother noticing my cock pressed up against your ass, all because you wanted to take on a bunch of Turks.”
He used the grip in her hair to hold her face so she couldn’t turn away, the eye contact painfully intimate as he spoke to her, his lips nearly touching hers, his breath warm over her skin, and Tifa was frozen, caught between shock and lust, fighting an internal battle, knowing that if he closed that already barely-there space between them, she wasn’t sure if she would push him away or kiss him back.
“Maybe,” his lips tickled along the skin of her cheek until he could whisper in her ear, “you should try taking on one Turk before you go for a whole group of them. You think you can handle it?” He held her tight as the spell broke. “I’d be gentle with you, Lockhart, teach you anything you want to know.”
Reno stepped back from her,cautiously, moving slowly, his arms dropping to his sides as he observed her carefully, not taking his eyes from her as he punched the code and re-entered the secure area, the door slipping closed cutting off his view of Shinra’s newest employee. He had done his job, distracting her nicely from her original intent. And if he had his own little bit of fun along the way, Tseng would still be happy with the results. Hell, he might even get a smile out of the stuffy bastard.
Tifa was watching him carefully as well, feeling all too much the prey at the moment, fighting to breathe past the mad thumping of her heart as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Tifa sat in the armchair in the living room, staring out the window as the light faded from the sky. She had spent the afternoon pacing. Then sitting. Then pacing. And she had finally worn herself down to sitting and staring out the window, still without any of the answers that she needed.
What the hell had happened?
That pretty much summed up her entire day. Well, that, and what the hell had she been thinking? Various images of her day kept leaping around in her mind randomly, all refusing to let her think about any one part of it for more than a few seconds at a time. She still couldn’t think about Professor Hojo without feeling ill. Her meeting with Mr. Shinra, she realized now, had been a complete failure; he had humored her, and she felt completely patronized. She didn’t want to think of the confrontation with the Turks. She still couldn’t believe what she had witnessed, what the Turks had done, that no one had stepped forward to put a stop to it. No one but her,that is. She could still feel the incredulous stares following her as she left the Shinra building, stares of people who wondered if she was really that brave or that stupid.
Tseng had said the Turks wouldn’t hurt Aerith. Could she trust that? She wasn’t so sure that would have been the case had she not interfered. She was pretty sure by Aerith’s reaction that she was already hurting, if not physically, then emotionally. And could she trust that the girl would make it home safely? Well, it was a little to late to worry about that now. If she hadn’t been so rattled, she might have thought to wait and see the girl at least leave the building without further incident. What was someone like Aerith doing working for Shinra anyway?
And then there was Reno. What kind of game had he been playing? In a matter of a few minutes, he had totally twisted her emotions, leaving her unsure of his intent. Was he attracted to her? Did he really think she had returned to Shinra because she was attracted to him? Were his lewd suggestions something he really believed? Or were they just that: Lewd suggestions meant to disgust her? Damn if she could tell.
What disturbed her most, though, was that she was attracted to him. It certainly wasn’t to his personality; he had been nothing but an ass as far as she was concerned. But her body reacted to him in the most primal way possible, to the point where it was frightening to her. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he knew it. Or at least acted like he knew it.
Or was that part of his game, too?
The front door opened and closed, and Tifa nearly flew out of the living room to find out who it was. Elena. Well, who else did she expect? Who else would have a key?
Oh, like the people she had been in contact with in the past few hours would need a key, Who was she kidding?
“What a day. I was asked today if we would be able to do a last minute catering job tomorrow for a small party. You’ll be available, won’t you?”
Elena turned from hanging her coat up and stopped short as she finally got a good look at Tifa.
“Are you okay? You look strange.”
Tifa, having realized her bizarre behavior, backed up a couple of steps and tried to resume something akin to normal. As a last resort to keep some measure of control, she led the way to the kitchen, busying herself with making a pot of coffee..
“I’m fine, but I can second you on that ‘what a day’. I’ve certainly had better.”
She could feel Elena watching her, and when she turned, she found the blond studying at her, perhaps too closely, tilting her head as she inspected Tifa’s expression.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Tifa glanced past Elena, back through the kitchen door.
“From now on, I think we should expect just about anyone.”
Elena quizzically followed her gaze, but said nothing, waiting to see if Tifa would further elaborate, but Tifa still had a slightly haunted look about her.
She took mugs out of the cabinet, placing them on the kitchen table as she sat.
“Okay, then. So are you in for tomorrow?”
Tifa shook her head, confused.
“I don’t know. My new job with Shinra seems to be an on call thing. I’d hate to say yes, and then have them call me at the last minute.”
“Come on, Tifa. You can’t sit around waiting for them to call you. We have rent due in a couple of days. We need to take what we can get.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do my part.”
Tifa disappeared into the apartment, coming back within a few seconds to drop the envelope on the table in front of Elena.
“I don’t think rent will be a problem.”
Completely baffled by Tifa’s behavior, Elena picked up the envelope and opened it. Tifa knew by the widening in her eyes when Elena had focused on what she was holding and the amount the check was made out for.
“Oh my God, Tifa. What did you do for this?”
“Not nearly what I thought I was going to have to, that’s for sure.”
Recounting her day to Elena, from the Turk that picked her up to the Turks she had a confrontation with, and very carefully leaving out her personal confrontation with Reno, Tifa had the surreal feeling that she could be talking about someone else’s life. From Elena’s dumbfounded reaction, she was most likely thinking pretty much the same thing.
“They gave you a check like this for dancing with one of their employees?” Clearly, she couldn’t believe it. “Imagine what they might have paid you for fucking him!”
“Elena!” Tifa nearly dropped the coffee pot on the way to the table. She was going to need something stronger than coffee to drink if this conversation continued.
Elena clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling an erupting giggle.
“I guess that wouldn’t have been a good thing, but damn, Tifa. Does Mrs. Shinra need another assistant? I wouldn’t mind a paycheck like this once in a while.”
The indirect reminder of Aerith was sobering.
“She has another assistant. That’s the girl the Turk’s were harassing.”
“Ah. Good thing you were there to put them in their place.”
“I don’t know about that. Tseng and Reno stepped in before it got to that.”
The phone rang, and Elena snagged the handheld from the counter next to her. From the brief exchange, Tifa knew it was for her before Elena held the receiver out to her with a smile and a wink, holding her hand over the mouthpiece.
“Mrs. Shinra calling for a Ms. Tifa Lockhart.”
Tifa didn’t bother to control her eyes from rolling as she accepted the phone and pressed it to her ear.
“Hello Mrs. Shinra.”
“I’ve heard you had a busy day today, Ms. Lockhart.” Right down to business, and Tifa had no way of knowing if it was good business or bad.
“I guess you could say that, yes.”
“It is my understanding that you handled it all rather well. And Aerith tells me that you also assisted her in her errand at the office.”
“Yes.” Should she say more than that? What, exactly, had Aerith told Mrs. Shinra? Perhaps the less said the better in this case.
“Very good. I have a good feeling about you Ms. Lockhart.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Shinra.”
“You will be free tomorrow morning, won’t you?”
Tifa mouthed the words ‘she wants me to work tomorrow morning’ and Elena nodded, dismissing Tifa from her previous request with a wave of her hand.
“Of course, Mrs. Shinra.”
“Very good.” Mrs. Shinra didn’t sound as if there had ever been a doubt. “I’ll have a car there at eight. Please be ready. Good night.”
The line was dead before Tifa could protest and tell Mrs. Shinra to just give her a location and she would be wherever she was needed.
“Good night,” she said to the dead phone, then hit the end-call button and handed it back to Elena as she took her coffee cup and headed for her room.

“By the way,” she called back to the kitchen as she passed the front door and a last minute thought occurred to her, “I want a security chain put on the door.”

Rescue - A Weiss Kreuz fanfic - Complete

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 06:12:54 GMT

Title: Rescue
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Aya/Yohji
Rating: T (with a 'just in case' warning for some strong language and the boys kissing)
Word Count: 1,309
Status: Complete
Summary: Washed up on the beach, Yohji gets a chance to make sure he is not left with yet more regrets.
A/N: This takes place at the end of Kapitel, but I wrote this without rewatching that last episode of Kapitel. Shame on me, I know, for not checking to make sure I got the few facts that apply correct. If there's anything major, let me know and I'll change it.

It's all under the LJ CUT:

I neither own nor profit from Weiss Kreuz or its characters.
Enjoy.
fire mystic

Rescue

Yohji gagged as he pulled himself free from the icy salt water. In the dark, instinctual corner of his mind, he knew he may not be safe, knew the potential for danger, but the water was choking him, and whatever threat that might be lurking in the cold, wet darkness took a backseat to simple survival as he rolled up onto his knees and pounded on his chest in an attempt to expel the water from his lungs. Finally inhaling a shuddering breath that didn’t catch on any moisture, Yohji rubbed at the soreness that remained from the deep hacking coughs, and breathed in grateful gulps of air as he glanced around, taking in his surroundings. No immediate threat, not that he could see. Good. Maybe those bastards from Schwarz were being eaten by the fish by now. Maybe…
Red. It caught his eye in the dim light like a flare that had been set off, and the pain in Yohji’s chest doubled, this time centered more acutely in his heart.
Aya.
His body was rocking gently with the tide as it rolled over his legs and hips, but there was no indication he was conscious. Or breathing. Or alive.
Yohji scrambled across the rocky beach, stumbling here and there, a deep-set panic sabotaging his muscles and reflexes, making him weak when he needed most to be strong.
“Aya? Aya!” He fell, crawling the last few inches, leaning against the limp body, rolling Aya over, pushing the damp strands of hair from his face. Aya didn’t open his eyes, even when Yohji slapped his cheeks roughly and shook his chin.
“Come on, Aya.” Yohji leaned his face close to Aya’s, feeling for breath while his fingers searched for a pulse. Finding neither, he slammed one fist down into the sand as he pulled Aya into a fierce hug, his lips moving in the damp hair as he spoke in Aya’s ear.
“Don’t do this, Aya. Don’t you dare fucking do this.”
He tipped Aya’s head back and opened his mouth, checked to make sure there was no obstruction, pinched Aya’s nose closed and covered Aya’s mouth with his own, trying to force air in.
Kneeling up, Yohji spoke as he positioned his hands and pumped, cautious not to crack ribs.
“All this time fighting to get your sister back, seeking justice for your family, and now you get her back and this?”
He forced another breath into Aya’s mouth.
“She’s finally safe, Aya. You’ve done it and survived all this crap and now you’re checking out?”
Another breath, then his hands at Aya’s chest again.
Nothing. Aya lay there, as still as when Yohji found him, except for the never-ending flow of the tide.
Yohji sat back on his knees, throwing his head back as he gulped past the lump forming in his throat, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to stem the flow of tears.
“Fuck Aya!” He exploded at the sky. “Don’t you get it? I’ve lost everyone I love.” When his lips met Aya’s again, it had nothing to do with breathing for him. He kissed him, tenderly, sweetly, putting into it every bit of feeling and emotion he now regretted never having spoken, never having shown.
“Everyone except you, Aya,” he murmured against Aya’s lips before once again trying to breathe life back into him and returning to pump his chest.
“Don’t you” pump “dare” pump “fucking die.” Pump. And Aya’s body convulsed against his hands, struggling to grasp the life Yohji was forcing into him.
Yohji rolled Aya to his side, practically sobbing his relief as Aya’s body rejected the water that had nearly been his end. Minutes later, Aya had managed to sit up and was still catching his breath and trying to spit the salty taste from his mouth, and Yohji was still rubbing his back in soothing circles. He was vaguely surprised that Aya hadn’t pulled away already, but damned if he would mention it.
“What happened?” Aya’s voice was rough from coughing, but Yohji had thought he would never hear that deep resonance again.
“We washed up. You weren’t breathing when I found you.”
“My sister’s safe, though, right? I remember that correctly, don’t I?”
“Yeah. They cleared the building before it went down.”
“What about Omi and Ken?”
Yohji looked around the beach, but didn’t see either of his other teammates.
“I don’t know yet.”
Aya stood up, surprising Yohji by using his hand to secure his balance.
“We’ll search for them past that outcropping.” He waved at the rocks he was referring to. “But if we don’t find them, we need to get out of here.”
He released Yohji’s hand and began picking his way across the beach.
“Aya.”
Aya stopped short, turning back. Yohji took a deep breath, unsure of what to say, of how to do this, but he knew he had to, knew that he couldn’t let his feelings go unsaid for any longer, not after coming so close to losing yet one more person he loved.
“We don’t have all day, Yohji,” Aya snapped impatiently. “What is it?”
His urgent tone goaded Yohji into motion, though it in no way simplified the matter.
“I…” He approached Aya, unable to even look at him, his hands and arms flailing, trying to do the talking for him.
“I don’t know how to do this, Aya, but I have to, and if I don’t do it now, I might not ever be able to.”
He was trembling and Aya’s hand was on his arm, and Yohji couldn’t find the words, and it didn’t matter anymore because actions worked better than words with Aya anyway, didn’t they?
He was not surprised when Aya went still and stiff in his arms. He was not surprised that Aya’s lips were unyielding under his. He expected Aya to push him away, was fully prepared for Aya to react violently. How he would deal with Aya trying to kill him or, worse, never speaking to him again, he didn’t know, but would deal with when the time came.
What did surprise him was Aya’s mouth slowly softening and opening to him. What he didn’t expect was Aya’s arms wrapping around him, clutching him closer. What he was not prepared for was the near desperation with which Aya returned his embrace, his kiss, or Aya’s deep groan as their tongues met and slid and tangled together.
Holding Aya close as they separated from the kiss, Yohji studied his face from inches away, elated to discover keen interest and heat in Aya’s gaze. There was some new element there, softer and sharper at the same time. He closed the small distance for another brief, intense kiss, which Aya met with enthusiasm, proving the first had not been a fluke.
“We’ll need to talk about this later,” Aya promised, palming Yohji’s cheek gently as he released him.
Yohji nodded, still at a loss for words. Aya turned to continue his trek across the beach, picking up his sword along the way. Yohji was about to follow when Aya stopped again, placing one hand on his hip while he scanned the horizon.
“You do know that you are a complete bastard, don’t you?”
Yohji gaped, thoroughly confused. Had he completely misread what had just happened?
“What the fuck, Aya? You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that!”
“You would know if I didn’t.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I just can’t believe that I nearly had to die for you to admit how you feel.”
Over Aya’s shoulder, Yohji could see the smile tugging at his lips.
“Sure took you long enough.”

Distraction - Chapter 27 - A Reason to Come Home

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 20:42:24 GMT

It's all under the LJ CUT:

This chapter rated M for explicit erotic content.
Thank you to Marasmine, who was kind enough to point out a couple of errors (grammatical, I think) a while back, which have now been edited.
Thanks much for all the supportive comments!
Enjoy.
fire mystic

A Reason to Come Home

Aya stopped at Yohji’s door. Yes, he wanted to see him, had been thinking about it the entire way home. But then he opened the door and found the room empty. Should he stay and wait? The building was dark and quiet at this hour of night, and he hadn’t seen any sign of Yohji on the way in. Where would he have gone? A club? A bar? He didn’t think so, but it was possible. Yohji had been spending most of his time with Aya lately, and as much as Yohji didn’t show any sign of it, Aya couldn’t shake the feeling that the complexity of their relationship must be taking its toll on Yohji. Maybe he needed a break. It also occurred to Aya that as much progress as he was making, he still may be unknowingly pushing Yohji away. That idea hurt, cut him deeper than he ever imagined it would. Now that he had dropped his defenses enough to let Yohji in, now that he had allowed himself that small taste of feeling and realized he didn’t want to let it go, he didn’t want to subconsciously screw it up for himself.
Aya chose not to wait. He didn’t want to smother Yohji. Flicking the light and closing the door behind him, Aya retreated to his own room.
He couldn’t have been more surprised to find Yohji curled up in his bed. There was no agreement; Aya’s room was by no means off limits, but they spent most of their time in Yohji’s room. It was just the way things had worked out, and now it felt odd, but not unwelcome, to find the man waiting here for him. He inched his way closer, admiring the long, lean line of Yohji’s body, wearing only a loose pair of jeans, muscles relaxed, clutching a pillow in the curve of his body, his face as buried as it could be while still allowing the deep, even breath of sleep.
Squeezing the pillow closer, perhaps aware of being watched, Yohji stretched out and turned sleepy eyes to peer at Aya over his shoulder.
“You’re back.” His tone was warm and pleasant, laced with just a bit of relief. “Everything go all right?”
Aya, accepting that Yohji would worry no matter what, answered his concern with a quick nod.
“I would have called if I needed back-up, but it was hardly worth our time or concern.”
Aya was standing there now, looking down at him with an expression Yohji couldn’t read, making him unsure of himself.
“It’s okay that I’m here, isn’t it?” Though his door was always open, the same arrangement hadn’t been discussed concerning Aya’s room.
Aya hoped Yohji was simply looking for confirmation, that there was nothing in his expression that had instigated the question.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Aya responded. “I stopped by your room on the way in. Thought you’d be there.” He couldn’t rationalize Yohji’s choice of waiting here; Aya knew to what lengths Yohji went to insure his room was comfortable. Aya’s room was sparse and cold by comparison.
“I missed you,” Yohji explained. He held the pillow out a bit. “It smells like you.”
Aya felt his heart kick hard at the comparison. It hadn’t occurred to him that Yohji would find comfort in the same things he did.
Slipping out of his coat, Aya went to hang it up, aware of Yohji’s eyes following him, lingering on him. He felt the heat in that gaze as if it were tangible, a flame reaching out to him. That was all it took, that keen, erotic interest, and Aya was hard, his skin tingling as his blood rushed to his cock. He was almost embarrassed as he pushed the pants from his hips; Yohji was taking his time, waiting for Aya to come to terms with accepting and showing affection, and Aya felt his physical response seemed so tacky. Rude. Inconsiderate of that patient well of understanding. If it bothered Yohji, however, he didn’t say anything, and, thankfully, it didn’t stop him from giving.
Aya climbed onto the bed nude and settled on his knees next to Yohji, who reached to brush the hair from Aya’s eyes. Aya caught his hand in his own, shaking his head.
The hurt and pain that blossomed in Yohji was nearly unbearable. This was the first time in a long time Aya had refused his touch. What had happened? It had all been going so well.
Aya smiled, one of those rare, soft smiles that provided a glimpse into the man Yohji was coming to know lay beyond the implacable mask of an assassin. Bringing Yohji’s hand to his mouth, he placed a tender kiss at the center of his palm, his lips lingering long enough for him to see Yohji’s discomfort and confusion resolve into something more intimate. Patience and anticipation.
Laying the hand over Yohji’s belly, Aya gripped his wrist, giving it a tight squeeze while rubbing his thumb over the tender flesh of his inner arm.
“Let me.” His voice came out a raspy whisper, affected by the emotion coursing through him, his lust, his desire for passion, his insecurity, his need, clashing together, threatening to overwhelm him.
Yohji settled back, propping his head up on the pillow, perfectly willing to see where Aya was going with this.
Aya reached up with his other hand to grasp a strand of Yohji’s hair, rolling it in his fingertips, and then threaded his fingers through the hair to caress along the skin beneath.
With a groan, Yohji leaned into that hand, nuzzling in a feline gesture to encourage further contact. He needn’t have worried.
Aya touched him. From the curve of his ear and across his cheek, brushing a thumb over his lips and then down over his neck. Aya left nothing unexplored, using his hands only, testing the texture of Yohji’s skin against the pads of his fingers and the flat of his palm. He pinched at hardening nipples, gently at first, then harder, testing Yohji’s sensitivity, then traced his fingertips over the dip of Yohji’s belly, swirling them around his bellybutton before unbuttoning and unzipping the jeans and gently urging them from Yohji’s hips and down the length of his legs, casting them aside quickly before continuing his tactile foray.
Yohji didn’t try to return the caresses. This exploration belonged solely to Aya. It was as unexpected as it was better than anything Yohji had imagined. It was everything his previous sexual encounters with Aya hadn’t been and more. He didn’t encourage Aya’s hands to where his body wanted them most. He wanted Aya to know the simplest caresses were as important and appreciated as the most erotic ones. In return, Yohji gave Aya his pleasure, letting Aya see it in his eyes and in his obvious arousal, feel it in the slight shifting of his body into that touch, hear it in the deep groans and purrs he couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.
The expression of wonder on Aya’s face was well worth Yohji’s restraint. Aya looked as if he were just discovering the pleasure of touching someone, as if he had never realized how much Yohji enjoyed this simple gesture. His hands lingered where the reactions were strongest, yet avoided the most intimate areas until Yohji was writhing, hands gripping the fabric of the sheets.
When he rolled the palm of his hand over the sacs at the base of Yohji’s erection and then up the hard length, his fingers wrapping around in a firm grip, it was with the same wonder, torn between watching his fingers stroking along Yohji’s skin and looking up to see Yohji’s reaction.
Yohji gritted his teeth against coming at that first intimate stroke. This was so good, too good to let end so soon. But it wasn’t easy. Aya had relaxed his grip, and now played over Yohji’s erection with just the tips of his fingers, outlining the contours, tracing the sensitive veins, tickling the even more sensitive rim, and then rolling his open palm over the plush tip, collecting the resulting moisture, his hand becoming slick.
It became rhythmic, up to circle the tip, down and back again. Aya’s other hand smoothing over the dip of Yohji’s lower belly and the flesh of his thighs, tense as he strained against the building climax, squeezing gently and fondling the tightening sacs. And as Yohji became unable to do anything but push up into Aya’s hand, his erection leaking more fluid with each stroke, his movements and breathing becoming erratic, Aya met Yohji’s gaze and watched the tension build there, waited to see the evidence of the climax not in the act itself, but in the expression on Yohji’s face.
Yohji held that gaze as long as he could before his head fell back, eyes slipping closed, and hips snapping up in an agonizingly forceful release that held him in a taut arc.
Dropping back to the bed spent, he opened his eyes languidly and reached for Aya.
“Now you,” he offered, his voice husky and passion-laden.
Aya shook his head, resisting.
“This was for you, Yohji.” Yohji was always so giving, so patient with him. He wanted to do this for Yohji, give back in this way, and now, finally, he understood the pleasure Yohji took from giving.
Yohji was relentless, pulling Aya to him until he could wrap an arm around his neck, holding him in a tight hug. Tracing a path down Aya’s ribs to his hip, he rasped in Aya’s ear.
“This is for me.”
Yohji guided Aya’s body above his with one hand on his hip while the other held him close. Aya braced himself on extended arms as his hips fell into a familiar, pulsing rhythm, rolling easily in the wet warmth of Yohji’s release as he found friction against Yohji’s belly. Bowing his head down to rest against Yohji’s shoulder, Aya bit his lip around a groan of intense pleasure as his body increased its tempo of its own volition. Yohji was moving with him, his body rising and falling to meet him, the muscles in his stomach flexing just enough to taunt the orgasm that was burning within him, drawing out the anticipation until each stroke was nearly painful in its pleasure.
The hand that had kept him from bolting now slid into his hair, cupping and lifting his head so he was looking down into heavily lidded eyes that shone with arousal. He was aware of Yohji’s lips as he spoke, his eyes focusing on the movement of his mouth as the raspy demand elicited the desired affect.
“Come for me, Aya.”
Then Yohji’s mouth was on his, catching the harsh gasp for air, the drawn out cry of release and relief, allowing Aya only enough time between kisses to gulp for air as he felt the fresh rush of warm liquid against his belly.
To Yohji’s delight, there was no trace of panic in Aya, no sense that he might pull away. Aya pressed into the kiss eagerly, his tongue sliding and flicking against Yohji’s as an arm wrapped around Yohji’s shoulder to hold him closer.
To Aya’s delight, Yohji seemed so content, so well pleased, as if there were nothing he would rather be doing at the moment. As if there was nothing more satisfying in the world than being with Aya in this way. As if there had never been any doubt on Yohji’s part that Aya could bring him such pleasure.

Distraction - Chapter 26 - Gaining Appreciation - WK WiP

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 00:55:06 GMT

It's all under the LJ CUT:

This was a very strange chapter for me. Originally, I had an entirely different chapter nearly finished and ready to go up, but this one sort of butted its way into my brain and wouldn't let go, and it either went here or not at all. It was so insistent that I couldn't ignore it. So I thought perhaps I could make this the beginning of the chapter I already had written, since they kinda play off of each other (sorta, kinda), which would have made this twice as long, but that didn't really work either. It simply wouldn't transition smoothly for me.
As if that is not enough, the formatting in this chapter is a bit different, and I didn't realize until rageofloki proofed it for me that it might need some explanation. This is meant to be glimpses into Aya's perspective of things as they progress, his broader perception followed by more detailed examples of where those perceptions are coming from. They are not meant to be in any specific order, though some refer to other points in the story, and they are not meant to detail every experience Aya and Yohji have together. I hope it's not too confusing. It somehow felt right to get something of Aya's perspective here and this seemed a natural way to do it.
I also hope the transition between regular print and italics isn't too annoying. If it is, please let me know and I will try to find another way to format it.
For reading and commenting, thank you.
Enjoy.
fire mystic

Gaining Appreciation

Yohji pleasantly surprised Aya at every turn.
“You really do know how to play chess.”
Yohji, lounging on the bed, head resting on a bent arm while he waited for Aya to study the board, winked at him, smiling lazily. Chess was not what Aya had expected when he entered Yohji’s room after their first dinner out, but Yohji’s suggestion of a game perfectly balanced Aya’s bold actions of the night with something he enjoyed and would put him at ease.
Not only could Yohji play chess, but he was proving to be a worthy opponent as well, providing further proof to Aya that Yohji was a comfortable, considerate companion. After all, Yohji wasn’t intentionally trying to distract Aya. It wasn’t Yohji’s fault if Aya couldn’t concentrate past the long line of Yohji’s legs, or the slight narrowing of his slim waist, highlighted by the way he was lying, or the breadth of his shoulders, or the kiss they had shared out in the hall earlier that night.
Yohji let Aya have his space, never excessively demanding of his time, but always accepting of Aya’s presence. In fact, Aya noticed, Yohji often waited for Aya to initiate contact.
“Are you busy?”
Yohji glanced back from where he was sitting on the roof, smoking as he stared out at a bank of clouds moving in over the city.
“Nope.” He put the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot, spread out the old tarp he was sitting on to make room, and patted the space next to him in invitation. Aya accepted, sitting beside him and stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Bad day?”
“I’m tired of girls squealing and fawning. If one more girl touches me, they’re going to have to lock me away somewhere.”
Yohji was nodding, chuckling under his breath.
“I thought that’s what my room was for.”
Aya slid a bit closer, letting the length of his leg rest against Yohji’s, an innocent enough contact that was anything but.
On the rare occasions that Yohji knocked on Aya’s door, he was perfectly content to sit quietly with Aya, who was inordinately pleased when he found that Yohji could balance his more talkative nature with a very quiet, content side.
Aya opened the door, curious. His teammates very rarely disturbed him when he was in his room, but then things had been changing drastically in the past few weeks.
Yohji stood with one hand braced against the door jamb. He looked tired, a bit hollow around the edges. They had been on two missions in the past week, both tiring, both bloody, and Yohji would have just finished his shift in the shop a little while ago.
“Mind some company?”
It felt strange to be on this side of the door, and Aya couldn’t figure why Yohji would want to spend time in his room, but he didn’t hesitate in swinging the door wide and stepping back.
Yohji surveyed the room as he entered, waving a hand at the book lying open on Aya’s bed.
“Were you reading?”
“I can read later,” Aya offered as he closed the door. Yohji was shaking his head.
“No, you keep reading. I just want to be near you.”
It was as needy as Aya had heard Yohji lately, reminding him that although Yohji had worked through many of his issues, he was still strongly affected by what they did as Weiss.
“You sure?”
Yohji slumped into Aya’s chair sideways, curling one leg up and draping the other over the arm as he rested his head against the high side and closed his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He sounded as tired as he looked, and Aya wondered if he’d even make five minutes before drifting off to sleep.
Aya took Yohji at his word, returning to curl up with his book, and Yohji didn’t seem to mind at all, remaining so quietly in the chair that Aya glanced up after a few minutes to see if Yohji had fallen asleep. No. He was staring out the window, his eyes glazed over in a haunted expression.
“Yohji?”
Yohji managed a wan smile, turning his attention to Aya.
“I’m fine, Aya. Just really tired.”
Aya studied him, tilting his head, then shifted back on the bed, patting the blanket beside him. Yohji studied the spot for a couple of seconds, and finally pushed himself from the chair and took the offered space, curling into Aya’s stomach, leaving his arms free for the book.
Aya settled with his book as Yohji stilled, one arm wrapped gently over Aya’s hip. He thought Yohji might shift around, or talk, but fifteen minutes later, Yohji was as silent as when he had laid down, and half an hour later, his body finally relaxed into sleep, his breath softly warming Aya’s belly through the fabric of his shirt.
Even when Yohji was talkative, Aya found that in private, Yohji’s voice was always low and intimate, soothing, no matter what the topic of conversation.
“No.”
“Oh, yes. You should have seen it, Aya. I thought for sure Omi was going to end up picking cactus needles out of Ken’s ass for the rest of the afternoon.”
There was more to the story, but Aya could barely concentrate past the lull of Yohji’s voice, and the rolling chuckle that resonated through Yohji’s chest was sheer delight.
“Hey, have you heard from Manx about your sister lately?”
Aya’s eyes slipped open, gaining a modicum of seriousness at the change of subject, though Yohji’s voice lost none of its calming effect.
“I talked to her yesterday when she dropped off the latest mission details. She said Aya is fine. Even had some pictures for me.” He retrieved a folder from his dresser and brought it to the bed where Yohji was leaning against the headboard, long legs crossed before him, as they talked.
Yohji opened the file and looked over the pictures with Aya.
“These were taken by a P.I., weren’t they?” He knew surveillance photos when he saw them.
“That or one of Kritiker’s agents. I don’t care as long as I know she’s safe.”
Yohji looped an arm over Aya’s shoulder and pulled him snug to his side.
“She looks happy, too, Aya. Kritiker is doing right by her. By both of you. At least where she’s concerned. As for you, you really okay going on this next mission alone?”
He didn’t hear a thing, but he felt Aya sigh against him.
“It only requires one person. The orders are to get out if things get strange. I’ll be fine. You’re not going to get weird about this kind of thing, are you?”
As he spoke, Yohji could feel that tension seeping back in, the tension that he worked so hard to keep Aya from slipping into.
“Not weird, Aya. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay without one of us there for back-up. It’s not something I haven’t thought before. I’ve just never asked.”
Aya had turned his head so he was looking up at the profile of Yohji’s face as he spoke. Yohji looked down as he finished speaking, stunned as always by the intensity of Aya’s eyes close up. He wondered if Aya was aware of how beautiful and startling they were. And then there was Aya’s mouth, sensual lips drawn in that serious frown they tended towards when Aya was thinking too hard. He brushed a kiss over those lips, which didn’t respond. Yet.
“What you thinking about, Aya?”
Aya wasn’t going to admit that he was dwelling on Yohji’s question about the mission. It was an honest, concerned question, and Yohji was taking him at his word. The least he could do was trust Yohji’s explanation, and the gentle sincerity in Yohji’s tone certainly didn’t hurt his cause.
But there was something else on Aya’s mind he was willing to admit to. He nodded at the file still laid out across Yohji’s lap.
“I was just wondering how Kritiker always manages to make a set of pictures look like a mission profile.”
And there was that laugh again, rich and contagious and so delicious.
Yohji liked to touch, needed it, almost as if it were as important as air for breathing, and Aya often woke to Yohji’s hands stroking over his flesh in a gentle massage.
Yohji’s fingers were kneading softly into the taught muscles of his abs, and then his hand flattened to smooth up over the center of Aya’s chest, slowly, deliberately, enough so that he knew Yohji was awake and not just merely flexing his fingers and hand. Just as slowly, the hand drew back down, skimming low on his belly, just avoiding intimate contact, and then circling around to ride along his hip bone and then gently grip the softer skin at his waist. Yohji shifted to make room as Aya rolled onto his back. Aya’s eyes remained closed but he pushed the blankets to his waist as he stretched his body out in a welcoming gesture, and Yohji took advantage, searching out those pressure points that made Aya sigh into his touch. His back arched as Yohji brushed his fingers over a tight nipple, and Yohji slipped his other arm under Aya to roll him fully into his embrace, his hands now roaming over his back, his face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Waking up had never been such a pleasure, and having Yohji curled around him, touching him, was a habit Aya was quickly getting used to. Even while Yohji slept, he had a way of holding Aya that seemed conscious, keeping continuous contact of some kind, but always flexible when Aya needed to move. It was an addictive indulgence that Aya was finding he had no desire to deny, and it had gotten to the point where he spent more time in Yohji’s room than his own and missed Yohji when he wasn’t there.
More importantly, it had become something he secretly looked forward to. In the shop, during off hours, training, whatever he was doing, Aya now had a reason to come home. It frightened Aya, jangling his mental warning bells. Becoming comfortable was dangerous; it always led inevitably to loss, to pain. But despite his fears and self-consciousness, he was quickly coming to his own unavoidable conclusion regarding his relationship with Yohji: It was too late to turn back. Once the wheels had been set in motion, once Aya had that initial taste, once he realized what Yohji meant to him, and had been shocked to find out what Yohji felt for him, it had sealed the deal. Whatever might eventually become of them, what pain or loss may be involved, Aya was more willing to deal with what may come than to walk away now.

weiss kreuz HELP!

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 23:40:47 GMT

So I'm writing a one-shot fanfic (I'm not sure anyone wants to know this pairing!), and I realize that I am VERY confused about something, even though I have watched both Kapitel and Gluhen. So anyone know the answer to this?

In gluhen, it's Eszett behind the whole Koua academy thing, right?

But Berger's team is from Rosenkreuz? Who is associated with Eszett in some way?

And in Gluhen, is Schwarz an Eszett team? Or a Rosenkreuz team? Or both?

I'm so confused!

Any help would be beyond appreciation!

Forbidden - Chapter 22 - Illicit Rendezvous

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 20:19:44 GMT

And because I forgot to post this one here, too!

It's all under the LJ CUT:

This chapter rated M for erotic content. (and edited because I can't SPELL!)

Thank you for reading and for all the feedback and encouragement.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Illicit Rendezvous

If someone had told Tifa how difficult it would be to get out of Seventh Heaven without being noticed, she wouldn’t have believed it. It seemed, lately, that Cloud wasn’t working. In fact, it seemed as if all he did lately was lurk around corners. She was constantly running into him when she least expected it.

As if that weren’t enough, Marlene also seemed to be popping up when least expected, often times with Yuffie in tow. It was starting to seriously wear at Tifa’s nerves, and she kept checking the note that Genesis had sent her and wondering how she was going to make this happen.

What would happen if she couldn’t? What would Genesis think? Would he wait? Would he understand? Would he assume it was because she couldn’t get away? Or would he assume that second thoughts had overpowered her? She distracted herself with obsessive cleaning as, not for the first time, she fumed at the fact that she had no way to contact him; it would certainly come in handy right about now.

Marlene drifted by in the hallway, just at the corner of Tifa’s vision. Tifa’s Marlene radar was in high gear. Without even trying, she had become acutely aware of the girl’s activities, to the point where she might have begun to feel self-conscious about it if she hadn’t noticed a few new and interesting things. Like Marlene didn’t always go to bed when she said she would. On its own, that wouldn’t have been such an issue, but then Tifa discovered that Marlene wasn’t necessarily keeping to her room after hours. Nor was she being very forthcoming on her activities, where previously she had told Tifa practically every detail of every minute. Tifa wanted to trust Marlene, to believe that even if she were not following the rules, she had her share of common sense, but it was getting more difficult by the hour. To top that, she was dreading Barrett’s phone call, or worse, his return. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep his daughter’s strange behavior to herself, but she couldn’t figure how she would tell him. And if she had to throw Reno’s name into the explanation, there were going to be some major fireworks, and not in a good way. No, she was going to have to find out more about that first.

She finished with the floor she was scrubbing and checked the clock. If she only had a gil for every time she had done that today. It felt as if time had slowed to a crawl, and there had been one point where Tifa could have sworn she saw the hand on the clock move backwards. Fortunately, the imminent hour was now, at last, approaching.

It was tricky, figuring out the best way to do this. Should she try to fake everyone out? Sneak out of the house in the middle of the night and hope that no one would notice? Or should she just claim she was going for a walk, with the hope that no one would volunteer to go with her? She managed to drop the soap three times and knock the shampoo bottle down twice in frustration as she debated her options, knowing full well that she was over-thinking everything, and that would lead to her acting more suspiciously than she already was.

As much as she would have liked to dress up, she chose simple clothes. Whatever else it looked like, she certainly couldn’t appear dressed for a date.

Finally she decided to simply walk out the door. After all, why did she need to explain this to anyone? Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out in the hall, closed her door, and turned, emitting a loud squawk as she practically plowed into Cloud, who grunted nearly as loud.

“Gaia, Cloud. Make some noise or something.”

He met her eyes briefly, nodding before turning away. Tifa was nearly to the stairs, thinking it had all been easier than she anticipated, before Cloud burst her bubble.

“Where are you going, Tifa?”

Easy does it, she reminded herself as she blinked slowly and tried to swallow against a suddenly dry throat, turning as casually as possible.

“I’m going out for a while.” She tried for a warm, reassuring smile. “I’ll probably be back late. Goodnight Cloud.” She made about six steps before his next words froze her in mid-step.

“Are you going to see him?”

She didn’t turn this time. She couldn’t. Was it possible Cloud knew?

“Who?” The word grated out, despite her conscious effort to maintain control.

There was a slight pause as she waited for the answer, which she found relieving in a twisted way. It proved that maybe, just maybe, Cloud knew how out of line he was. She really wanted the next words out of his mouth to be ‘never mind’ or ‘forget it’. She might be able to merely walk away if that were the case.

“Whoever…” He paused again, and Tifa knew he was rethinking how he was going to phrase his words. “…you were seeing when you were away?”

Somewhere in the depths of her mind, Tifa felt something give way with a soft, dull snap. Turning back on the stairs, looking up at him as if they were on equal ground, she took a step up.

“You mean the man I slept with? Isn’t that what you meant to say?” It sounded cold and cruel, brutal in its honesty, but it was past time for a dose of truth. She yanked at the hem of her shirt and pulled the waist of her jeans down a bit to expose a patch of skin which was left with no visible evidence, but still burned exquisitely when she touched it, the physical memory remaining intact.

“Or did you mean to say the man who marked me?” Her questions were punctuated with a step up as she ascended towards him, and an answering flinch in response.

She wanted to lecture him. She wanted to ask him where he got off passing judgment on her. She wanted to point out that he didn’t own her and had no right to his jealousy. She wanted to point out that sharing a house when he happened to be around did not make a relationship. She wanted to point out how there might have been a chance for them once, but not any longer.

What came out wasn’t what she expected to say at all.

“You know, from what rumors I’ve heard, Cloud, you’re in no position to throw stones.”

Oh Gaia. That just sounded…spiteful. Tifa felt heat flood her face as she realized he might see her actions as jealous and vindictive.

Cloud, however, apparently didn’t see it that way at all. He retreated as if he had been stung, the hurt and shock in his expression painful to witness. Extending a hand out in front of him, he averted his gaze.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, Tifa. I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.” His voice was whisper thin, and Tifa was almost ready to apologize, but when he turned and walked away, she let him, maintaining her silence.

Down the stairs, Yuffie and Marlene were sitting at a table in the center of the closed, empty bar. With the dim light, Tifa hoped to simply slip by the pair, their heads bowed together as they spoke softly, but just as she would have passed out of sight, Yuffie’s voice floated across the room to her.

“Sneaking out, Tifa?”

Tifa backed up the step it took to bring them back in sight, eyeing them, still bristling from her encounter with Cloud.

“Sneaking out, Yuffie, would be climbing out the window in the middle of the night. Or waiting until everyone was asleep before slinking down the stairs.” She doubted either Yuffie or Marlene missed the direction of her gaze as she spoke. Rankled and not wanting to deal with anymore interruptions, she gave them as much excuse as she was going to make before they could pursue her comment. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

She walked fast, closing the door behind her as she left with perhaps a bit too much force. She kept her pace, zigzagging a route through Edge, checking her surroundings often to make sure she was not being followed, until she found the landmark that was indicated at the beginning of Genesis’ map. From their, she followed his directions, picking her way in the half moonlight as she navigated the foothills carefully. She found the cave he had indicated, the end of her trail, and waited, unsure what to do. Could this be the wrong place? Even if she had misread the directions, what was the possibility she would end up…

There was the slightest sound from within the cave, the barest breath of movement, and a second later, a shadow materialized from the darkness within.

It had been nearly a month. In the grand scheme of things, a month wasn’t an entirely long time, but Tifa was caught in a strange combination of emotions. Her mind and body ached with the physical memory of their encounters as if they had just occurred, and yet it felt as if it had been years since she had seen him, and swirling through the mix was emotion and heat that was as strong as the first time she had seen him. She willed her feet to move, to get her closer to him, but her muscles refused her, and she stood, swaying slightly, at a complete loss for words.

Genesis stopped as the scant moonlight caught his face, lit upon his hair as if it were burnished ruby. The sharp glow of his eyes was from an entirely different source, and tonight, the pale blue seemed darker, more intense in the half light. His arms were bare, minus the duster, and he seemed perfectly at his ease.

“You got my message.”

Tifa tried to control the bobble of her head, and succeeded only in snapping her mouth shut.

“I missed you.” He didn’t come closer, he didn’t beckon for her. What was he waiting for?

Tifa swallowed unsuccessfully at the lump of muteness that had taken over her throat as she managed to take one wobbly step closer.

Genesis turned his attention off into the night, lifting his face to the sky as if he felt the caress of darkness against his skin.

“It’s a beautiful evening. We couldn’t have chosen better.” He turned back to her, lips lifted in a half-smile, humor dancing in his eyes as he observed another shaky step.

“I visited Minna before I left. She misses you. She asked me to find out when you would visit again.”

Within arm’s reach, Tifa came to a halt, wondering how he could be so calm, how he could carry on about everyday goings-on when she had to concentrate to keep breathing.

“Genesis?” It was the only thing she could manage, and as the name rolled off her lips, she was swept against him, crushed within an embrace that eliminated any breath of space between them.

“You would think, Love, that those five steps were a mile,” he gasped into her hair, and then pulled back only far enough to let his mouth meet hers voraciously.

Seventh Heaven, friends, air, gravity; it all melted away, overtaken by his body pressed to hers, the sensation of his tongue filling her mouth, caressing along hers as his hands and arms clasped her closer, the taste of him, exotic and wicked, the scent of him filling her, leather, sun-kissed skin, a hint of cologne. Reality had faded away and Tifa let it, claiming this moment for her own.

Genesis lifted her, and her body adjusted naturally to cling to him in the most convenient way, her arms and legs wrapping nearly painfully around him, and when he adjusted her so he could walk with her in his arms, she was completely pliant. Her passion still astounded him, how accepting she was, how eager, but his own need was even more astonishing. There hadn’t been a moment during their separation when he hadn’t thought of her. Sleeping and awake, she had consumed his dreams and consciousness to the point of distraction, until there was nothing he could do but take the risk of trying to see her. He still worried his presence so near Edge would be detected, but as he carried her through the well hidden, long forgotten entrance to an old Shinra outpost, the depth of his emotion made it entirely worth the risk. He staggered as he walked, leaning heavily against the wall as she slithered against him, nipping at his lips and chin, pushing his head up and panting over the softer skin there, a delicious tease that was surprisingly erotic. Her teeth sinking delicately into the tendon where neck and shoulder met elicited a low, breathy growl from him, which she answered with a hum of insatiable hunger as she pulled the tender bit of skin and muscle into her mouth, laving it with her tongue.

Tifa’s focus had narrowed down to include only one thing: Genesis. She didn’t know where he was taking her and didn’t actually care. As far as she was concerned, he could take her right there against the wall he was leaning on. Being able to touch him again stoked her emotions to fever pitch, and she hadn’t felt this alive since they had last been together.

He was moving again, crashing through a door and then down onto a soft surface, turning to catch them both, leaving Tifa straddled above him. She took advantage of the position, pushing his sweater up and off and ripping at the buckles, buttons, and zippers at his waist and pushing the material down until she couldn’t go further without moving. Sliding from the bed to her knees before him, she yanked at his boots so she could wrestle the pants off, and then climbed back up his body as agilely as she had slipped away, trailing her lips along his skin until she met his mouth again, her hands already busy helping him with her own clothing, which presented their own complications. The blouse was no issue, but she nearly screamed in frustration at her jeans, which she had chosen out of practicality for the nighttime walk through Edge. Genesis answered her silent plea for help, lifting her easily so she could slide the material from her hips, and she wriggled out of them from there.

Her constant movement, the way she was rubbing against him, the edgy desire between them, was quickly testing Genesis’ limits, but Tifa had no intention of leaving him wanting. Kneeling above him again, she met his gaze as her hips sank unerringly to meet his, her body drawing him in, melting down around him even as it grasped him in tight, pulsing heat. His head rolled back as his body bucked up, his guttural cry at the impact of the deep penetration joining Tifa’s wordless exclamation. The seamless, rolling rhythm they picked up changed quickly as her fingers curled into his waist and hips, greedily trying to draw him deeper as he rose to meet her demands. Deeper, shorter, the thrusts became punctuated, nearly violent, and Genesis looked up to find Tifa in the thralls of erotic overdose, skin flushed, eyes burning brightly beneath lids half lowered, mouth open to gasp for breath, body shivering in pleasure. Smoothing his hands over the curves of her waist, he cupped her breasts in his hands, that simple pressure bringing her hands to his wrists to hold him there as she leaned down into him. Her head dropped forward, hair hiding her face, when he circled his thumbs over the swollen nipples, and her body throbbed around his length as a deep tremble rolled through her body in thick waves. Weaving one hand through her hair, he pushed the strands back from her face, drawing her eyes back to him as he drew her closer, letting her watch as his lips brushed the barest kiss over one breast before taking it deeply into his mouth and rasping his tongue over the over-sensitized peak. Her reaction was immediate and volatile, her muscles tightening rhythmically with every swipe of his tongue, accented by the intentional hard grind of his hips, a low-pitched whine starting deep in her throat and winding up until the pressure burst from her in a harsh, passionate cry as her body seized, constricting around him, holding him immobile in its grip as his body surrendered, his orgasm nearly painful in its intensity.

Tifa hung suspended above him a moment before collapsing against him, spent. Genesis fought the lethargy in his arms to circle them around her, enjoying the sensation of their bodies calming together, matching each other in this as they had in the escalating passion. Hands ghosting over her back, he felt her skin cooling and rolled to his side, rearranging slightly so he could pull the blanket over them. She snuggled into the warmth of the blanket and the heat of his body and nestled her head against his chest.

“I missed you,” she stated softly. It was more than that, but that was the easiest way to say it.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he responded.

Tifa tilted her head so she could see his face clearly; see the sincerity in his expression.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am you didn’t.”

“Was returning to Edge difficult?”

“More than you know.”

He felt a tension fill her that hadn’t been there before, a part of her, perhaps, that had been pushed aside and ignored in the excitement of their reunion.

“Will you tell me?” This was her life, not the vacation where she was allowed to let reality go for a while, and he knew her relationship with him was a complicating factor. He had no intention of flinching away from this if she needed to talk about it.

“There’s not much good,” she reflected wryly. “Meeting you tonight is the best thing that’s happened to me since I came back.”

“Tell me.”

“Where should I start?” She accounted for the day she returned, only to find out that her friends had been so worried about her that they were trying to track her down. It was nice to know they were so concerned, but then it all turned sour, Yuffie wanting all the details of her scandalously elicit affair, and Cloud displaying what she was sure was jealousy, which she simply couldn’t figure out. Had he really expected her to hold a flame for him forever? Even when he showed no interest?

“Are you sure there is no spark left for him?” Genesis asked gently, caressing her hair from her face, fanning it down over her body and watching it fall against her skin.

“I’m sure. I was sure of that long before I met you. It’s just…I can’t figure out what he wants from me, what he expected. And I’m angry that he’s held me to a standard that he does not apply to himself.”

Genesis was smiling at her, warm and tender, but with a hint of humor lingering in his eyes.

“What?” She asked defensively, making a futile effort to put distance between them.

“You are magnificent when you’re angry. I imagine you are a force to be reckoned with.” He kissed her, his own reassurance that he was not laughing at her, merely pleased with his observation.

“It’s just very hard to deal with. And now he seems to be around more than ever, practically everywhere I turn, it seems, and I see hurt and accusation in his eyes every time.”

“He will accept it with time.”

Oh, if he only knew Cloud! Rather than explain, Tifa let the matter drop. She had her own idea about how to handle Cloud, which required just a bit more tweaking.

“And then there’s Marlene. I thought I could trust her, but now I’m not so sure. I found out she’s been sneaking out of the house at night.”

That earned a low, throaty chuckle from Genesis.

“I did that all the time when I was a kid.” The laugh faded. “With Angeal…” he added, almost as an afterthought, but so laced with pain it was palpable. Tifa stroked his cheek, bringing his attention back to her.

“Will you tell me about that someday? About your childhood? About Angeal? Or is it too much to ask?”

A soft, bittersweet smile claimed his features.

“I will. Someday. Right now, you are telling me about Marlene.”

“Oh yeah.” Tifa sighed. “I know kids do that, but it’s so unlike Marlene. And then she mentioned knowing Reno the other day, and it sounds like there might be something going on there. I just can’t let that go without trying to…do something.”

“Reno? The Turk?”

“The very same.”

“Damn. He’s still around?” Genesis commented thoughtfully. “I’d be careful with him, and don’t trust him, not with yourself, and certainly not with anyone you love.”

“He also came to talk to Cloud a few nights ago. I still don’t know what that was about, but it seems he was trying to get Cloud to do something for Shinra.”

Something occurred to her then that she hadn’t thought about before.

“Genesis, how long have you been around Edge?”

“I came for a very short visit before I sent you that last message to make sure this place remained safe, and then I arrived here yesterday to make sure everything was ready. Why?”

“Is there any way Shinra could know you’re here?”

He rolled up onto his side so he could prop his head on a hand.

“You think that’s why Reno showed up?”

“They can’t be looking for you, can they?”

He gazed out into the dim light of the room, contemplating the possibility.

“I don’t think so. I am taking a risk, but I’m not even sure they know I’m alive. I imagine if they did know, they would not be so casual about trying to hunt me down.”

“Then you’re in danger being here.” It wasn’t as if she didn’t already know that, but she hadn’t expected it to be spelled out quite like this.

“I’m in danger wherever I go. There’s always the possibility someone might recognize me. But I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

“Do you know?”

“No.” He was being honest, clearly, but was very concerned as well. “But I love you and these are your friends, so I’m going to warn you as best I can: You need to be very careful about Shinra and what they want from Cloud Strife. And if Reno is showing interest in Marlene, I can almost guarantee that he’s using her for something.”

Genesis had seen things over the years, but hadn’t paid much attention to them as they didn’t seem pertinent to his personal quest, but now his interest was peaked, spurred on by his concern for Tifa, and he was going to do some back-pedaling if he could and find out as much as he could about Cloud Strife and why Shinra would want to get their hands on him.

Pulling her closer, letting Tifa’s presence sooth his newly discovered fear for her safety, which he had no way to protect at the moment, Genesis brushed his lips over hers, letting the kiss linger and simmer, with a touch of anxiety that quickly transformed into a different type of tension, and while Tifa let it sidetrack her from his ominous warning, she did not, even for a second, let it distract her from his hastily spoken declaration of love.

Forbidden - Chapter 23 - Life's Little Distractions

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 20:17:32 GMT

Because I forgot to post this here!

It's all under the LJ CUT:

Rated M for erotic content. Hopefully it's clear, but if not, italics are flashbacks, not fantasies. Although they certainly do as fantasies as well.

This was a fun chapter, though I don't know what I would have done if I were Tifa. Hope you're all enjoying the twists and turns, Genesis and Tifa's as well as all the others.

Thanks much for reading and reviewing. I had to redo the formatting with the italics for the flashbacks; if I missed anything let me know.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Life’s Little Distractions

“Tifa.”

Stroking up her leg, the pressure of his fingers feather light one moment, firm the next, and then he was using that grip to pull her leg tighter around him, grinding against her, sinking further into her body...

“Tifa?”

She swept the cloth over the bar again, the motion automatic, not requiring any particular thought.

...driving the breath from her lungs in harsh gasps and incoherent pleas. His lips whispered against the side of her face, breath moist against her cheek, teeth sharp as he nipped the soft skin beneath her chin, tongue a plush, sensual swirl of heat as he laved that skin and drew it into his mouth...

“Tifa!”

“Huh?” The cloth remained where it had been for the past few minutes, her hand clutching it, her arm frozen in mid-motion. She turned to Yuffie, not even sure she was really there.

...he was stretched out beneath her, arms extended across the bed, legs slightly spread, completely vulnerable to her and gazing up at her with a smoldering expression in which there wasn’t even a question of trust. His skin was surprisingly soft under her fingers, his body incredibly responsive, rising into her touch...

Tifa was staring at Yuffie, totally not seeing her, wondering if there was some way she could simply wish her into nonexistence for a moment.

The sensation of simply running her hands over his body was an erotic delight she hadn’t imagined. His utter capitulation to her caresses, her exploration, was so empowering, it sizzled from the tips of her fingers and danced along her body in a wave that was as sensual as if he were the one touching her.

“Yoohoo. Knock, knock? Anyone home?”

...and his voice, when he spoke her name, when he asked her what she wanted, when he whispered illicit questions in her ear, and when he groaned, oh when he groaned. The sound struck her somewhere deep in her belly, creating a fluttering that spread up through her breasts and down between her thighs simultaneously, creating a web of tension, need, and pure feeling that her body refused to contain.

“What’s he like?”

That tension flowed out of her, tingling along her skin, making her muscles spasm, in her hands, her arms, her legs and deep within her belly. It spilled from her lips in soft pants and pleas, moans of anticipation, satisfaction and appreciation.

What’s he like? Yuffie was suddenly much clearer, in the very center of her vision.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, please, Tifa. I’d bet every ball of materia I’ve got that you were thinking about your mystery lover.”

“I...”

“Even more, I’d bet every gil in my possession that I know exactly what kind of thoughts you were thinking about him.”

“Yuffie, I...”

Reaching out a hand to place it on her wrist, Yuffie smiled brightly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

Tifa turned away in annoyance. She wasn’t going to answer that question, wasn’t going to discuss this with Yuffie yet one more time.

“Oh, come on, Tifa, don’t be like that. You got a drink for a friend?”

Well, at least she was smart enough tonight to know when to drop the subject. Tifa mixed Yuffie her favorite mango margherita, lots of crushed ice, no salt. Yuffie took a long sip of the drink, closing her eyes as if it truly hit the spot.

“Damn, that’s good,” she complimented as she put the glass down.

“Tell me something, Yuffie?” Yuffie savoring her drink had given Tifa time to pull herself together and focus, and she decided to take control of the conversation before Yuffie had a chance to delve into another round of twenty questions.

“Sure thing, Tifa,” Yuffie said over her glass before taking another sip.

“What do you know about Marlene’s new boyfriend?”

It wasn’t that Tifa had never seen anyone spit their drink across the bar, but considering it was Yuffie was a bonus, adding an extra ounce of humor to it. Yuffie slapped her hand to her chest as she choked and sputtered, trying to clear her lungs of the liquid she had managed to inhale as Tifa looked on in surprise. Somehow, this was not what she had expected. Tifa had been practically sure that Yuffie would know something. Apparently, though, it took her completely by surprise.

“You know?” Yuffie gasped.

Tifa bit back her disappointment that Yuffie’s shock had been in reaction to Tifa’s question rather than not knowing after all, which meant Yuffie had been keeping it from her.

Tifa would have liked to have said it had been obvious, or that Marlene had told her everything. It stung that she couldn’t claim either.

“What has she told you?”

Yuffie looked around the bar, wide-eyed, taking in her surroundings intently, checking to make sure they had some privacy and wouldn’t be overheard.

“She’s been telling me stories about someone she likes, but she wouldn’t tell me who it was. In fact,” Yuffie raised an eyebrow at Tifa, “she’s better at avoiding that question than you are.”

Tifa ignored that little jab.

“And she told you not to tell, right?”

“What makes you think that?” Tifa wasn’t buying that innocent Yuffie expression.

“Because you tell me everything, Yuffie. Whether or not I want to hear it.”

Yuffie had enough grace to bow her head, her cheeks pinkening a bit.

“She said she didn’t think you would understand.”

“What kind of stories has she been telling you?”

Yuffie squirmed around in her seat a bit, and Tifa recognized it for what it was; Yuffie was uncomfortable with sharing this without Marlene’s permission.

“Look Yuffie, I’m worried about her. I think it might be someone much older than her.”

“She didn’t tell me much, Tifa. Just stories about how good he is to her, treats her like a princess, laughs at her jokes. How she feels like she has to sneak out to see him because you don’t understand.”

“And you bought all that, Yuffie?” Tifa was astounded. Yes, Yuffie could be naive, but she was more perceptive than this. “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me about it?”

“It was nothing we didn’t do, Tifa. I mean, they could be just friends. Except for the sneaking out thing. And the expression on her face when she talks about him. Wait a sec. Do you know who it is?”

Tifa was pretty sure based on her conversation with Marlene that it was Reno, but maybe it was better that she not let that slip until she had proof. Nothing good could come of Yuffie blabbing about it to everyone.

“Maybe not. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. Seeing something that isn’t there.”

Yuffie took another long sip of her drink.

“Well, if you want to see what is there, the best place to look would be Marlene’s diary. She’s writing in that thing all he time.”

“Oh no, Yuffie! I can’t believe you said that! I could never do that.”

“Why not? You said you were worried about her, didn’t you?” She snorted as Tifa put another drink in front of her. “I would do it. In a heartbeat.”

“That’s cause you’re nosey.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s asking questions.”

“Asking questions about what?”

The two women turned to find Cloud standing in the doorway leading into the stock room.

“Hey Spiky,” Yuffie greeted. “Maybe you know something about the mystery of the moment.” Tifa’s head whipped around so she could glare at Yuffie, a dark expression of warning on her face, but Yuffie was in her element, chatting it up with friends and trying to find out the latest gossip. In other words, totally oblivious.

Tifa missed the concern that passed through Cloud’s eyes, but she heard it in his voice.

“What mystery would that be?”

It occurred to Tifa that there were lots of mysteries floating around that Cloud would be worried about. Hers, his, the one regarding Shinra, and Marlene’s, which she wasn’t even sure he knew anything about. That was about to be quickly rectified.

“It seems that our little Marlene is seeing someone on the sly.” Yuffie was enjoying this far too much. Cloud searched Yuffie’s face and then Tifa’s, his expression somewhere between relief and disbelief.

“What makes you think that?”

“Does that mean you haven’t heard?”

Cloud shrugged, turning his head away, appearing to study the multi-colored bottles that lined the walls.

“I guess not. I’m going to be on the road tomorrow, Tifa. Do you need me to pick anything up?”

“I don’t think so. I think we’ve got it all covered.” With the awkwardness that now existed between them, it was almost a relief to talk to him about normal, everyday things. “Do you know when you’ll be back?” It was a question she always asked, but had learned to never expect an answer to.

“No.” And with that, he turned away abruptly, retreating the same way he had arrived.

“Some things never change,” Yuffie muttered over the remains of her drink.

Bursting into laughter, Tifa threw her towel into the bucket for laundering.

“Careful, Yuffie. It sounds like you might be in danger of catching on.”

Damn, but she was tired, but Tifa wouldn’t give up that bone-weary fatigue for anything, not when part of the cause had been spending the previous night with Genesis in such intense pleasure and comfort. She found peace when she was with him, an easy contentment in the way he held her and listened to her talk about whatever sprang to mind.

She caught herself glancing at him, wondering if he was really listening or merely humoring her, only to find him meeting her gaze, the dim reflection of candlelight dancing in the depths of crystalline eyes. He tilted his head quizzically, his hair falling to shade his eyes which were relaxed, sated, the lids lowered, but sparkling with awareness.

She lost her thought then, momentarily forgetting what she had been talking about and why she paused.

“So what happened?” He asked, his focus narrowing to her lips and then moving up to her eyes.

“What happened?” Tifa responded, dazed.

Lip quirking, he stroked a hand through her hair, drawing her in for a brief kiss.

“The church? The remnant you had to fight? What happened?”

He had been listening to her, and he never seemed to tire of it, punctuating the conversation with questions or comments here and there. He made her feel interesting, important, like there was nothing he would rather do than spend time with her.

She was standing at Marlene’s door. It was late, but she still checked on Marlene and Denzel before she went to bed, simply sticking her head in the door. It was more habit now, as they got older, but it was a habit she was loath to break.

Her chest clenched when she found the room empty, the window left partially open. She had held some hope that perhaps Marlene would be there, but wasn’t nearly as surprised as she thought she would be to find the girl had already slipped out. Tifa sighed and stepped back out of the room, but stopped just short of pulling the door shut.

“No,” she muttered to herself. “I’m not doing this.” And she actually managed to wheel around and gain two steps back towards her own room before stopping in her tracks, held captive by the dilemma. She knew she shouldn’t do it, but what if it was the only way to insure Marlene’s safety? She wanted to think that all she had to do was sit down with Marlene and have a heart-to-heart, but considering their previous confrontation, she didn’t think that was going to happen. And maybe she was jumping to conclusions; just because Marlene knew Reno, might even have a crush on him, didn’t mean that he was the person she was sneaking out to see.

Her gut, however, didn’t trust that. This was bizarre behavior for Marlene, and she were pretty sure that Marlene wouldn’t be so secretive about seeing someone unless she knew it wouldn’t go over too well.

Piping up from a dim corner of Tifa’s brain, a little voice whispered “hypocrite”. Tifa did her best to squelch that voice. Her situation was different, she was sure. She was older, more mature, and had more experience. She was an adult, aware of her actions and their possible consequences. Her eyes were open to the facts she knew about Genesis, many of which she could confirm if she chose, and she was balancing that with her emotions and instincts, which told her that whatever Genesis had been, his experiences had changed him, and he was no longer the monster people had once perceived him as.

She didn’t need to read the entire diary, or even an entire entry; all she needed to do was see the name of a certain Turk. His name, nothing more. It would confirm or deny her assumptions and possibly lay the entire matter to rest.

Just a name. That’s all she needed.

She found the diary without even searching for it, lying in the center of the bed right in front of Marlene’s pillow. Knowing that Marlene was so secure in her privacy that she didn’t even bother to hide it made the guilt immediate and sharp. Tifa sat on the edge of the bed fingering the book, second-guessing her decision once more before flipping the book open to a random page. She skimmed over the words on the page quickly, not finding what she was looking for, and breathing a sigh of relief that she had accomplished her goal of looking for the dreaded name and not actually reading Marlene’s personal entries. Turning the pages a few times, glancing as she did so, the first name she came across wasn’t the one she feared, but her own. She stared at the four letters for a few seconds, biting back the urge to find out what Marlene had written, but losing the battle.

“Tifa’s been acting strange since she came home, but in a way, she’s happier than I’ve seen her in years. She says it was a one time thing, a vacation fling I guess, but I wonder if she doesn’t have feelings for him and if she might be planning to see him again. And why won’t she tell us about him? The mystery remains unsolved. Y can’t even figure it out.”

Another couple of pages, and there was a short notation in the margin: “Mid. Mem. 1 am” . A meeting, Tifa surmised, and the Memorial would be a common enough meeting area, but there was no mention of who Marlene was meeting, so it proved nothing. Flip, flip, and she saw her name again. “I know Tifa cares. I really do. And I thought after she returned from vacation that she would understand, but I don’t think she does. I feel like I can’t really talk to her anymore, especially about him.”

A pang of remorse touched Tifa’s heart. Marlene had needed her, had even relied on her understanding, and she had let Marlene down. It was an awful, disappointing feeling, made worse by the fact that if what she suspected was true, she didn’t think even her experience with Genesis would help her understand and give Marlene what she needed.

Yet she clung to the tiny thread of possibility that she was wrong.

Relief edged in as she reached the last page of the diary without finding what she was looking for. And then her eyes fell on the last paragraph, dated that morning, and separate from the rest, which is what drew her eyes to it.

“It had to be a dream. I love the way he smiles, and how he laughs when we’re talking, and he always gives the best hugs, tight and warm, like he’s trying to hold me as close as possible. He’s been really sweet until now, but I thought he was just being kind. He did ask me to meet him again tonight, and then he kissed me. I stopped breathing when his lips touched my cheek, and he was so sweet, stopping to ask if that was okay. I couldn’t even speak, so I just nodded, and then he kissed me again, right on the corner of my mouth. Goddess, please don’t let it have been a dream.”

“Oh, and have I mentioned how I love the color of his hair? So red, and so long. It’s just like I remember it when I was little, even the ponytail. I wonder if he’d let it loose so I can see. Maybe I’ll ask.”

Tifa let the diary slip closed in her hand, sorry now that she had read that last paragraph, sorry that she had followed through with Yuffie’s suggestion to begin with. She hadn’t found a name, but the answer to her concern was evident enough.

How had this happened? Tifa had hardly even heard from or seen Reno since the fight with the remnants. Shinra still existed, but had remained quiet since the final showdown with Sephiroth.

Too quiet, perhaps.

So how had Marlene managed to meet Reno? Tifa wouldn’t have thought Marlene would remember Reno from her childhood, but apparently she did. And when had this happened? How long had Marlene had feelings for the Turk?

And what the hell was Reno thinking?

Tifa knew she would have to do something, find some way to make Marlene understand, prove to Marlene that Reno couldn’t be trusted. Somehow find out why Reno was doing this.

How to do that, though, especially with no idea of what Reno was up to, was yet another mystery.

There was a noise from the darkness outside the window, nothing ominous or suspicious, but it was enough to remind Tifa where she was and what she was doing, jangling her nerves and flushing her face with embarrassed guilt. Setting the diary back where she had found it, she slipped from the room as quietly as she had entered, but much more quickly. By the time she reached her own bedroom door, she was out of breath, her heart pounding with the anticipation of getting caught in the act of invading Marlene’s privacy, even after she had closed her door behind her and there was no further chance of being found out.

Later, an hour, maybe two, lying awake, waiting for sleep to claim her, she heard Marlene come back into the house. Her brain had been consumed with what to say, when to say it, how to find the answers she needed, but she resisted the urge to get up and confront Marlene in the hallway and demand an explanation. That could wait, and she knew she had to be careful about this. She heard Marlene’s door open, and the soft creak of the floor as Marlene went to the bathroom, and then again as she returned, along with the muffled thump of her door closing. Silence fell again, and Tifa’s senses, acute with her concern, backed down from the edge they had been on, and she finally felt the fatigue her body felt catch up with her brain, weighing her eyelids. She faded into sleep, her last thought a wish that her dreams were of Genesis, and not of the many complications that seemed to be springing up just as she was coming into her own.

Forbidden - Chapter 24 - Dealing With Monsters

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 18:04:56 GMT

I know, I know! I haven't updated this in FOREVER. But I have been working on it, and I certainly haven't forgotten about it. Don't worry! I have not given up on it! In fact, as I write, I'm getting more inspiration for the future chapters. I can't promise I'll update faster, though I would like to. My life isn't allowing a whole lot of time and energy for writing right now, but I'm getting it done in little bits and pieces regardless. Which is really good for me. As much as I love writing, there have been YEARS where I haven't been inspired at all.

Thanks to rageoflokifor proofing, encouraging, and letting me know that the end of this chapter did exactly what I wanted it to!

It's all under the LJ CUT: (including my fanfic a/n)

Thanks to Zetsubel, who mentioned that I've sort of left Denzel by the wayside, there is finally another mention of him in here, and we may see more of him in chapters to come. Leaving him out wasn't so much intentional on my part, though he isn't one of my favorite characters. I simply envisioned him going about his teenage business and trying not to get underfoot. But I haven't been all that fair to him, so I'll see what I can do about that. As for some of the other suggestions made, I make no promises, but if it works, one never knows.

It occurred to me as I was working on this chapter that I've been writing "Forbidden" for more than a year now. It certainly doesn't seem that long! Thanks much for reading, commenting, and for all the encouragement.

As for this chapter, I think Tifa shows an amazing amount of restraint dealing with her first 'monster', and doesn't get nearly enough butt-kicking time with the second.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Dealing With Monsters

Tifa stared at the red-head that was loitering across the street from her. He certainly wasn’t the red-head that she would have liked to see, that was for sure. He was, however, the one that she had a bone to pick with. And what luck that she happened to run across him this morning.

It had been a horrible morning, at least as far as she was concerned. She was guilty about reading Marlene’s diary and dreading the further discussion that was inevitable. Denzel had wandered through, inhaling a piece of toast and guzzling a glass of milk. Tifa had tried to ask him about Marlene’s friends, but Denzel’s expression of extreme distaste said everything, followed up with the declaration that he had no interest in Marlene’s girl-friends, and even less interest in listening to Marlene talk about boys.

Then Marlene hadn’t come down to breakfast on time. Tifa had waited, growing edgier by the moment, knowing that Marlene had come in late, but feeling completely unsympathetic for the girls need to make up the sleep she had missed the night before. Besides, she had things to do, and watching the clock as she waited was only adding to her irritability. The worst part, though, was when Marlene finally made her appearance. The words that had been churning through Tifa’s mind all night and morning simply wouldn’t come out. They scattered in her brain, and as if in suspended animation, simply hung there randomly as if there were no cohesion to her thoughts at all. The only words she could string together were ‘I read your diary!’ No, that simply wouldn’t do.

Marlene had that ‘look’ about her. She moved like she was floating on air, like nothing could bring her down, nothing could bother her, and she had that glow of happiness that was sleepy, rumpled, and, Tifa hated to admit it, satisfied. Tifa didn’t even want to think what that expression might mean. She didn’t want to think about what was going on in the late hours of the night that she had no control over, things that she couldn’t find a good way to warn Marlene about. And she didn’t want to think about the potential proverbial train wreck that seemed to be looming in their future.

All due to the man that she was now watching casually flick a cigarette butt to the ground. Slob.

Straightening her shoulders and reminding herself to keep her temper and her thoughts in check, she crossed the street with determination.

The cocky grin he met her with didn’t help her maintain her control.

“Do you have a minute, Reno?”

Mild shock glimmered in his eyes before the amusement snuck back in. He glanced around him as if looking for the person she was really talking to.

“You sure you got the right person, Lockhart?”

She clenched her fists on her hips, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

“Unfortunately. Do you have a minute or not?”

He held a hand to his chest, a pained expression crossing his face.

“Oh, you wound me, Lockhart. And here I thought you were...”

“Quit wasting my time, Reno. Obviously you have nothing better to do, so I’m just going to ask you outright. What’s going on with you and Marlene?”

The transformation was amazing. The shock was now genuine, and then it shifted to guarded suspicion.

“What did she tell you?”

“So you admit it?”

“I ain’t admitting to nothing, Lockhart. What the fuck’d she tell you?”

“Too much and not nearly enough.”

He sneered at her and cocked his head to his side, apparently pleased with himself, and then passed her by, walking away.

“Which means you don’t know nothing. Maybe we can talk when you get your facts straight.”

The fury welled up in Tifa’s chest until she was practically choking on it. Damn Turk. And how stupid she felt! She should have known this would happen, should have seen it coming. She had enough encounters with Reno in the past to know that getting anything from him wouldn’t be as simple as asking for it. She let the anger rise just enough to simmer beneath the surface, squaring herself off as she did when she prepared to fight.

“I know enough, Reno.” She didn’t know what his game was, but she recognized trouble well enough when she saw it coming. “I may not have the details yet, but I know you’re up to no good. Fair warning, Reno, when the time comes, I will take care of my own.”

If his attention was what she wanted, she had it. He had turned back to her, walking slowly, head tilted, eyes narrowed, studying her as if she were prey. Tifa managed to hold still as he stalked a circle around her; she was not going to be intimidated by him. Not now. She had been through too much with Shinra to let a Turk intimidate her. Coming full circle, he held her gaze long enough that she had to remind herself not to squirm under his inspection. And then he smiled, that annoying, I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile, the one that made Tifa want to slap the smugness right off his face, and sauntered away, turning to spit on the sidewalk as he went.

Disgusting. As if having this conversation with him weren’t offensive enough, spitting just had to be the last straw in distastefulness. With anyone else, Tifa might have wondered if they knew how vile a habit it was, but with Reno, the question never occurred to her. No, she was pretty sure it was intentionally obnoxious on his part.

Completely unsatisfied with the results of her conversation with Reno, Tifa went about getting her errands run. Fortunately, that goal took her in the opposite direction of the maddening Turk. Winding her way through the streets, another question crept into her mind. What was Reno doing here? The Turks had been relatively scarce lately, or at least low-key. She had seen Reno more in the past couple of weeks than she had in quite a while, and now he seemed to be popping up around every corner.

Detouring down a short alley, Tifa was drawn from her thoughts by people hurrying past on the upcoming street. No, not hurrying. Running. And pushing. With a couple of screams to put an exclamation on things.

Stepping up to the edge of the street, Tifa tried to see what was causing such a reaction, but couldn’t see beyond the people fleeing in blind panic. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Tifa worked against the crowd, and inevitably found the source of the panic. She stopped mid-stride when she saw it, too dumbfounded to even express her shock. In fact, to anyone who might have taken the time to notice, Tifa’s face was completely blank, unaffected.

And she was sure, as she took in the scene before her, that this was the answer to her question. The seven-legged monstrosity complete with talons, a whip-like tail, both scales and feathers, and two heads, one with a lethal array of teeth dripping venom, the other beaked, was the reason Reno was in the neighborhood. And in that moment of revelation, Tifa also knew that Shinra was behind this, that they had not yet learned their lesson.

The area around the creature was slowly clearing, until the last shop owner slid past it, just barely evading the snapping jaws in one breath and the lashing tail in the next. Grabbing Tifa’s upper arm, he tried to pull her from the area with him, but released her when he caught the determination in her eyes, in the set of her features. What everyone else did was their business; Tifa was going to stand and fight.

She knew the moment the courtyard was cleared. The silence felt like a weight boring down on her, and both of the creature’s heads, both sets of eyes, were now focused intently on her, its tail restlessly twitching back and forth. Tifa remained as still as possible, weighing her options, searching for the best mode of attack, for her advantage, but the monster gave nothing away, standing just as still, most likely doing the same thing she was. Or wondering why this insane human wasn’t running like the rest of them. As if it were through silent agreement, they started circling each other, and while Tifa’s nerves sang with the tension running through them, she was relieved that the creature was now engaged with her rather than chasing innocent people hither thither through the city.

It was edging closer as it circled, and without warning, Tifa was rolling to dodge the length of its tail as it swiveled around, and then leaping back to avoid the gnashing of teeth as the creature followed up its attack. Damn, it was fast. In all her years of battle, with all her experience, Tifa couldn’t remember ever coming across a monster that moved with such speed and flexibility. Lashing out with a kick, trying to keep distance from her opponent, her foot connected with one leg, breaking it down at the knee, long enough for her to close in and connect a powerful punch to the underside of the things beak. The clack and grind of the hard substance grated on Tifa’s nerves, sending a shiver down her spine in a so not good way. Unfortunately, the animal recovered quickly enough to take advantage of Tifa’s discomfort, lunging forward again, with no indication that Tifa’s strike had made a bit of difference. Tifa used the few pieces of scattered outdoor furniture, weaving between them defensively, calculating which might be best to use as a shield, but she would just manage to block herself with one piece or another and it would get snatched out of her hands by a tail that apparently worked as a tentacle as well, and she would be left scrambling once again.

Moving hard and fast, Tifa got a couple of good punches in, even getting a distinctive “oomph” from the animal at one particularly hard strike to its belly, which she barely escaped from unscathed, but she was fast coming to recognize that she might be a bit overpowered in this fight. She couldn’t divide her attention enough to find the cause of the flicker of motion in her peripheral vision, a bad thing as it could be a second creature joining the attack, but then there was a flash of light and the creature hit the ground hard, wallowing for a moment and then wobbling to its feet, shaking its head roughly.

She was about to close in on the wounded animal when vise-like hands wrapped around her upper arms, drawing her back and away with intense speed. She might have fought, but one hand released its hold so that arm could wrap around her midriff, and her mind dazedly processed the red leather of the sleeve.

Genesis?

No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be in the middle of town in broad daylight. He couldn’t risk being seen, being recognized. And there were Turks around. Oh, Goddess. Tifa wanted to squirm, to get him away before he was noticed, wanted desperately to warn him, about the creature, about the Turks, but she was fading, the world was fading, getting dark and fuzzy as she was drawn away from the fight, and her muscles were failing her, becoming weak and immobile as the seconds ticked by. Before the world dimmed completely, she heard Reno’s voice, but he wasn’t talking to her, she didn’t think, and then there was the zing of electricity and the smell of hair and flesh burning, pungent and revolting, rolling her stomach. Dreamlike in its quality, Tifa felt herself being turned, her face pressed against something that, thankfully, dimmed the other smells around her in a familiar, masculine scent, and she heard the voice she wanted to hear, a voice that was comfortable and loved.

“Quiet, Tifa. Just let go. I’ve got you and you’re safe. You can stop fighting now.”

If she was dying, she at least knew the angel that had come to retrieve her.

Treachery and Devotion - Chapter 11 - Chasing Shadows

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 22:52:24 GMT

fandom: ffvii
Pairings: Reno/OC, Tseng/Elena, Rufus/OC
Status: WIP
Word Count: 2,454
Rating: M
Warnings: Erotic content, Mature situations, violence, language
Summary: Reno is given a new assigment within the Turks, which causes an unexpected challenge in his relationship with Bryn.
This Chapter: The hunt is on for an imposter Turk.

This chapter Rated M for erotic content. As before, Reno owns me, not the other way around.

rageofloki: Somebody really needs to get rid of Dara.

fire mystic: Well, you know she'll probably get hers in the end.

rageofloki: No. She'd probably enjoy that.

I'm such an innocent.

Thank you for reading and reviewing.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

It's all under the LJ CUT:

Chasing Shadows

Bryn now knew what a victim felt like, looking at crime photos to identify their attackers. And she wondered if victims felt the same way she did about it, that they never thought they’d be in this position.

She also marveled, as she flipped open one file after another, at how much like mug shots the photos of the Turk trainees looked.

She hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone in Reno’s apartment when it rang that morning. Nobody she knew would be calling her there. But mortification quickly set in when Tseng’s voice on the answering machine asked her to pick up and then demanded in his calm, professional way that she report to his office. Since her confession to Reno, there was only one thing she could imagine Tseng would want to talk to her about. She hadn’t wanted Reno to tell, hadn’t wanted to draw even more attention from Reno’s colleagues, but she knew it was inevitable, if only because of the questionable security within Shinra. She hadn’t known what to expect, but a summons from Tseng was beyond anything she imagined.

Now she sat at Tseng's desk opening each file, carefully scrutinizing the photo within, setting it aside, and moving on to the next. It didn’t help to have three men hovering over her, Tseng and Rude as still as a statue while Reno paced restlessly. Bryn had the sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to find the picture she was looking for, and finally closed the last file and pushed it aside with a sigh, her instincts proven correct.

“I knew he wouldn’t be here.”

Tseng picked up the phone and dialed, waited for it to ring.

“Elena? Meet me in my office please.”

They waited in silence the few minutes it took Elena to tap on the door and enter, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I need the three of you to go down to the security office and watch the feed from the security cameras. I want to know who he is, how he got in here, and who helped him before the day is over. Am I clear?”

Reno was already out the door, Rude not far on his heels. Elena hesitated, studying Tseng with a curious expression on her face before she followed suit, closing the door behind her. Bryn stood from her seat, preparing to take her leave as well.

“I didn’t mean to bring this problem here. You’ve all been very generous, letting me stay, but I should leave Shinra Headquarters.”

Tseng, she was finding, was a difficult man to read. He gazed at her with a neutrality that gave nothing away. He also had a way of being still and imposing at the same time, as if there were a dangerous entity underneath the serene exterior he presented the world. Bryn tried not to let his demeanor rattle her.

He shook his head, the motion drawing her from her musings.

“I think that would be unwise. Despite what has happened, I think this is the safest place for you to be.”

Well, that was more than mildly surprising. Bryn had expected Tseng to be relieved, if not pleased, that she was no longer an issue.

“That’s very kind of you, but I can’t say I feel the same.”

“Reno is going to insist on making sure your safe. This is the best place for him to do that, and to be honest with you, with a breach of security like this, I can’t afford to have him missing in action.”

“He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t ignore his responsibility to Shinra. Why would you think he would do that?”

A small smile lifted the corner of Tseng’s mouth at her defense.

“Because that’s what I would do in his position.”

Elena made a valiant effort to concentrate. This was important. She knew that. But as she watched the images on the screen flicker by, her mind kept drifting. After Bryn had visited that morning, Elena had reported to work despite having been granted the day off. She was tired of sitting around in her apartment on the mend, and since her date with Tseng, she had an energy that wouldn’t let her rest anyway. At least working would give her something to do. And, of course, she would be able to see Tseng. Oh, she had it bad.

If only she’d known that her assignment for the day would be so mind-numbingly boring, making it too easy for her thoughts to wander.

And wander they did. Her earlier encounter with Tseng hadn’t been what she expected. She was hoping there would be some acknowledgement of their budding relationship. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Or had Tseng changed his mind? Bryn said Elena would hear from Tseng before the end of the day, had sounded pretty sure of it, but Elena could hardly contain her anticipation.

She knew she wasn’t being fair. Tseng’s attention was focused where it should be; they needed to find this guy was, and Elena could wait. Tseng was always professional. Yes, he could be obsessive at times, but it was a trait she admired in him and she would be disappointed if he were to let it slip now. Besides, how did she know Tseng wasn’t feeling the same way, thinking about her and wishing for a private moment, but maintaining his business facade? Tseng was, after all, very good at hiding his feelings.

Rude, sitting beside her grunted, sitting forward in his chair and rewinding the tape he was watching and playing it back in slow motion.

“I got him.”

Elena leaned in, and Reno popped up from his own video feed to stand over Rude’s shoulder. Rude played with the tape for a moment, rewinding and freezing it a couple of times before he found an image he was happy with. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to make a positive identification, and from the tape, they knew the entrance he had used. Most importantly, they knew that the door hadn’t been locked, which meant that whoever he was, he definitely had help from the inside.

While Tseng waited for his Turks to find the breach, he decided it might be a good time to talk to Rufus, fill him in on the latest developments and find out what the story was with Reno’s latest ‘assignment’. Rufus’ secretary, however, stopped him mid-stride as he approached Rufus’ office.

“He’s in conference, sir.”

As if that had ever made a difference.

“He’ll see me.”

Tseng was quite sure he had to be imagining the restraining hand on his arm.

“He left strict orders that he was not to be disturbed.”

The secretary removed his hand slowly, a hint of panic edging into his eyes. His mouth gaped open, and just when he would have said something, the door to Rufus’ office opened.

Dara’s appearance in the doorway didn’t surprise Tseng in the least. And the blush that rose in the secretary’s face when he caught sight of the Turk trainee didn’t escape his notice, either. Dara’s actions became very intentional when she realized she was the center of their attention. She closed the door gently and exaggerated the sway of her hips as she approached, her hands busy straightening the tie that circled the collar of a shirt that narrowed sharply at the waist and was too tight around her chest. The clothes, as well as her fidgeting with them, drew the eye to the feminine curves of her body.

She was performing for them, Tseng noted with disgust.

“Tseng! I’m glad I ran into you. I was wondering,” she opened her jacket wide and cocked a hip out, “do you suggest a hip holster or a shoulder holster for a woman? I’ve seen Elena wear both, but you know, it’s not like she has anything on top to worry about, and I’m,” she glanced down at the anatomy in question, “well, considerably larger. What do you think?”

Get rid of her. The words ran through Tseng’s head, and it was everything he could do not to blurt out ‘you’re fired’. He did, however, make a mental note to put the paperwork in for dismissal when he got back to his office. In the meantime, he called on his vast reserve of discipline, schooling his features, and acted like it was a perfectly normal question.

“It’s all personal preference, Dara, sometimes based on your choice of clothing, and if you choose a shoulder holster, they are fitted. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“But I thought you wanted to see Rufus,” she reminded as he started to walk away. “It takes him a few minutes, you know, but he should be composed by now.”

Tseng managed not to clench his fists as he paused to answer.

“I will speak to him later. I need to take care of something else at the moment.”

That was a lie, but he would make it the truth by finding something. He would rather scrub toilets than see Rufus right now.

Nothing. That’s what they found. With all the technology at their disposal, Elena, Rude, and Reno couldn’t identify the man in the video. They had no further luck when they hit the streets, asking questions of well-informed sources, and coming up empty. Their mystery man was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost, as was the person who had given him the general security code he had used to enter the building. All said and done, they had nothing more at the end of the day than the picture they started out with.

By the time Elena returned to her room, she had pulled her jacket and tie off and undone the top couple of buttons of her blouse. It had been a long, tiring day with no results to show for all their work, and nothing to look forward to now that it was over. She had waited for some acknowledgement from Tseng, becoming edgier as the day went on, but he was all business and seemed to be in a darker mood than usual, and she decided to follow his example and keep their personal business outside of the workday.

Opening the door to her apartment, she flicked on the lights and froze mid-step. A small end table from her living room now sat in the center of the foyer with a spectacular bouquet of flowers displayed on it. Elena approached it slowly, pleased and excited, knowing who it had to be from, and found and opened the card that was nestled in the midst of the flowers.

“Get comfortable and meet me on the roof.”

It wasn’t signed, and it didn’t need to be. She could never fail to recognize Tseng’s handwriting. Showered and changed in record time, feeling exhilarated, heart hammering, she had to force herself to walk as she made her way to the roof and whatever surprise awaited her.

Bryn heard the door open and close, and a few seconds later, Reno flopped down into the chair across from her. He looked tired, more worn than she had ever seen him, and there was no hint of the mischievousness that often graced his features. He looked like he’d been beaten. He looked defeated.

“Bad day?” Dropping off the couch to her knees, she crawled the few feet to kneel before him, reaching up to push his jacket from his shoulders.

He let her undress him, moving minimally to allow her to slide the jacket and shirt from his shoulders. ‘Bad day’ didn’t even begin to describe it. Like his colleagues, Reno was used to taking care of business, and today just hadn’t qualified. On top of their failure, he was plagued by the assignment Rufus had given him. He knew there was no way to refuse the ridiculous order, but he couldn’t think of a way to tell Bryn, either. And as she stood, holding his hands in hers, pulling him behind her to the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothes haphazardly along the way, he forgot about telling her, and let himself be lulled into the comfort of coming home to someone who knew him and would understand.

Bryn didn’t push for Reno to talk, or for anything besides what he allowed. He didn’t have to speak if he didn’t want to. It wasn’t often that he came home in this condition, and though she didn’t want to intrude on his darker thoughts, she couldn’t simply leave him with them either.

But as the evening progressed, she began to worry.

Under the warm spray of water, Reno began to respond to her, but not with words. He made love to her with a tender, nearly melancholy intensity that frightened her even as it had her delirious with pleasure. Slowly, methodically, he stroked soapy hands over her skin, tangled them in her wet hair, held her still as he stole her breath with deep, fervent kisses. He licked and kissed the water from her skin, reducing her to begging before he acquiesced, pressing her back to the wall and lifting her, wrapping her legs around him and slipping into her in the same unhurried manner. Bryn clung to him, one arm wrapped securely around his neck, her fingers of that hand digging into the firm muscle of his shoulder while her other fist entwined in his hair, her head thumping back as he entered her, filling her, feeling large and impossibly hot within her body. She writhed against him, using her body to demand more, but he refused her, each prolonged thrust scraping against a spot that ignited the pleasure unbearably but was never quite enough. She sobbed, voice breaking, nails cutting into his skin, and still he maintained his tempo, forcing her to endure, stringing her out as her body swelled with desperate need that wrenched a guttural scream from her as it finally shattered with a vicious ferocity, spreading heat and pleasure through her in a shockwave.

And still he wasn’t done.

He carried her back to the bed, laying her out, uncaring that they were both soaking wet, and set to re-igniting her in the same fashion, with excruciating, unhurried intent, until finally sometime in the dim hours of the morning, spent, wrung out, she passed out beneath him in the throes of her final orgasm, leaving him gasping and crying out as he let release claim him.

As he settled beside her, holding her in a clinging embrace and pulling the covers over their cooling bodies, she regained consciousness briefly. Just long enough to realize that whatever was bothering him, Reno still held that secret safe-guarded.

Consorting With the Enemy - Chapter 4

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 22:52:08 GMT

Title: Consorting with the Enemy
Fandom: ffvii, AU
Pairings: Reno/Tifa for now. More will be added.
Word Count: 4,049
Rating: M
Warnings: Adult themes and language in this chapter. Future mature/adult content, erotic content, violence, and general strangeness.
Status: In Progress: Previous Chapters Here

A/N: I'm trying something new with this fic, although I'm not sure yet if it's working or if it was just a momentary lapse of insanity. I'll see how the future chapters come together, but if you notice anything different, letting me know will clue me in on how successful I am.

It's all under the LJ CUT:

In case the previous warnings slipped by: There is nothing too extreme in this chapter besides some colorful and suggestive language and description. I am trying to keep Reno in character (as well as many of the other characters) despite the AU nature. I hope I have succeeded.

I'm having fun with this one. For reading and reviewing, thank you much.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Reno wasn’t nearly as polite as the other Turk had been when waiting for Tifa. In fact, when she came out of the bathroom in her robe, she found him in her bedroom, inspecting the contents on top of her dresser.

“What are you doing in here?”

Barely glancing her way, he shrugged.

“Just looking around, yo. Friend or family?”

“Who?”

“The girl you live with.”

Which meant he had been in Elena’s room as well.

“She’s my roommate.”

Flicking his hair back with the motion, he turned an amused expression to her.

“But you don’t share a room.”

“It’s still called a roommate. Are you always this nosey?”

He picked up the small silver frame that contained a picture of Tifa’s parents from before she was born.

“Sometimes. Are you always this uptight?”

“Get out!” Pointing at the door, she refused to look at him. The man, if she could even call him that at his age, was insufferable.

He swaggered out of the room and disappeared from sight, probably to explore another crevice of the apartment. Tifa debated following him, but decided it would be better to get dressed as quickly as possible and simply get him out of her home altogether.

When she was done, she found him standing by the front door waiting, apparently finished with his self-guided tour.

“You didn’t need to shower and change, yo. The old man probably won’t even see you without an appointment.”

“Yes, I did, and he’s going to see me without an appointment whether he likes it or not, even if I have to wait all day.” She felt better having showered. True, it had only been a few hours since she had left the house that morning, but her experiences that morning had left her with a slimy feeling on her skin.

Reno opened the door, standing aside and holding it open for her, a gesture she hadn’t expected, but the expression on his face was smug, clearly betraying the gentlemanliness of the gesture.

“This I gotta see,” he muttered as she walked by.

Tifa hadn’t thought about anything past confronting Mr. Shinra about their apparent breakdown in communication. It hadn’t occurred to her that she didn’t even have identification confirming her employment with Shinra until she was face to face with the secretary in the center lobby of the Shinra building. The secretary didn’t give her a second glance, however. No, her eyes were only for Reno, a dreamy quality filling them as the Turk approached.

“Hey, Sherry.” He leaned over the high lip of the desk, his smile coy and beguiling.

“Hi Reno.” Sherry’s voice had gone from being crisp and official to having a slightly intoxicated slur to it. “I didn’t think you would be here today.”

“Missed me, huh?” His smile lit up a notch and he cast a glance at Tifa as he reached out to run a finger gently along Sherry’s chin. “Do me a favor, Sher? Check to see if the old man is in his office.”

Was Tifa reading this right? Was this whole performance for the benefit of getting her the meeting she wanted? Sherry had finally noticed her and was glaring daggers at her. Reno circled around the desk and perched himself on the edge of the desk, making sure his leg brushed against Sherry’s arm, successfully drawing her attention back to him. He reached back to pick the phone up, making a lovely display of his body for the woman, and held it out to her, his hand lingering longer than it had to as she accepted the receiver.

She had to reach around Reno to dial the phone, but he didn’t budge an inch, letting her rub against him, smiling down at her suggestively. Sherry spoke into the phone casually, apparently to someone she was friendly with, her tone slightly breathless with what Tifa was sure was yearning, her hand nervously playing with the uppermost button on her blouse.

Tifa observed the two with a mixture of disgust and fascination, the latter of which she would never admit to if she could help it. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t see how handsome Reno was, how sexy he was, and his undoubtedly dangerous nature also provided some appeal, but was this woman really doing this just for a wink and a smile? For the attention of a man who was barely old enough to be referred to as such. Oh, please.

In her musings, she had missed the end result of the phone call. Reno was standing now, leaning down to whisper something in Sherry’s ear. Tifa couldn’t hear the words, but the red cheeks and the slightly delirious pleasure on the secretary’s face gave her a general idea of the nature of what was said. Then Reno was walking towards the elevator, pausing only long enough to turn back, his hair flaring out in a silken wave of red.

“Coming, yo?”

Tifa gaped but then followed, thrilled that getting her meeting might be easier than she had thought and pissed that it might have been made possible only through this annoying Turks assistance.

They stepped into the elevator, and the few people that were in it cleared out like smoke evaporating. As if Tifa wanted to be stuck alone in the cube with a Turk. Reno hit the button on the panel and leaned back against the side of the elevator, slouching and folding his arms over his very lean chest. A girl, perhaps in her early twenties, actually walked into the elevator, took one look at him, and backed out without a word. What an interesting array of reactions he elicited. The doors slid shut.

“You’re doing it again, yo.”

Tifa startled.

“Doing what?”

“Staring.” He met her gaze, defying her to deny her actions.

She couldn’t. Drawing herself up indignantly, she defended herself instead.

“I was just thinking it was wrong. What you did with that secretary. It wasn’t right.”

He was laughing at her.

“How d’you figure, yo? What’d I do?”

“You,” the words jangled around in her head as she tried to arrange them in a way that didn’t sound totally tacky, “you tried to seduce her into doing what you wanted.”

He shifted against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other.

“You got it all wrong, Lockhart. I got her to do what you wanted.”

“That’s splitting hairs, Reno. It was how you did it, not the end result. It was almost like you were lying to her, promising her something in return for her help.”

“Promising her something? Like what, yo?”

Was he being intentionally infuriating? Or did he just not see how his actions had been misleading?

“Are you kidding me? The way you talked to her, looked at her, let her fawn all over you? The only thing you didn’t do was give her your number.”

The smug expression overtook his face before the words were completely out of her mouth, and she knew what his game was. He was baiting her. And it had worked.

“So you think that’s a lie, huh?” He stalked her, closing the distance between them in the already too close space. Cornered, a wall on one side, an arm braced over her shoulder on the other. “Later, when she’s on her break, and I drag her into an empty room and fuck her senseless over a desk or against a wall, you think her screams’ll be cause she ain’t getting what she wants? Where will the lie be when I’m buried up inside her and she’s screaming my name?”

The bell dinged, indicating they had reached their floor, and Reno was gone, stepping away and out of the elevator before Tifa could get over her shock. She remained, back pressed into the mirror-polished metal interior of the elevator, trying to erase the visual he had created. It was as clear an image as if she had walked in on them, her imagination presenting her with Sherry the secretary pushed back on a desk, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her legs wrapped around the narrow waist of the fully dressed Turk as he thrust into her, drawing his name from her lips along with other unintelligible sounds of lust and pleasure, neither aware of anything but the mindless rapture of the moment.

Tifa wanted to be disgusted. It would have made sense if she had been as repulsed as she had been that morning with Professor Hojo pawing all over her. Instead, her heart was hammering in her chest, her breath was coming short, and her skin felt swollen, hyper sensitized.

Taking a moment to shake off the disturbing effects, Tifa blamed it on the Turk’s forward behavior. He had simply caught her off guard once again, completely unsuspecting of how bold he might act. From now on, she would consider herself forewarned. She smoothed her hand over her suit and hair, checking her appearance in the smooth surface of the wall as she reminded herself of her reason for being here, and stepped confidently from the elevator.

She couldn’t read Reno’s expression when she found him waiting for her, leaning against the wall across from the elevator. She was looking for some kind of reaction from him to his brazen words, but there was no indication it even fazed him. Boredom was the best way she could describe his appearance. Bored and lazy. He gestured idly down the hall in the direction she was apparently to go, and then effortlessly kept stride with her as she set a brisk pace in the direction of a large foyer with a desk at the very center.

As she entered the foyer, the man behind the desk glanced up, his mouth opening to speak, but Tifa, having had her patience tested to the limit this day, raised a forestalling hand as she turned toward the only door in the area.

“Don’t bother. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

He stood down, and Tifa had the distinct impression it may have been because of something Reno did, but she didn’t bother to turn to see. She really didn’t want to know if Reno would take this young man into a supply closet later and give him whatever he might want. No, that would have been information overload.

Mr. Shinra glanced up as she stepped through the enormous doors into the plush office. She took in her surroundings, the thick, layered carpet, the leather chairs, the finely crafted furniture, the exquisite art hanging on the walls, pieces she was sure were originals.

“Ah, Ms. Lockhart. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” Mr. Shinra drew her from her observations.

She approached the desk, organizing her words before she blurted out anything too terribly embarrassing.

“I’m here to speak to you about this morning, Mr. Shinra.”

“Hmm. What about it?”

“What about it?” Her voice was rising indignantly. “I don’t know what you expected of me, Mr. Shinra, but I assure you that when I agreed to work for you I was not agreeing to,” she paused. How to put this delicately? “Prostitute myself.”

Mr. Shinra’s rather illustrious eyebrows rose as he looked past Tifa to address Reno.

“Reno, did you offer Ms. Lockhart money in return for certain favors?”

Tifa heard Reno’s low chuckle and felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as she realized they were making a joke of her concern.

“Why, she got something I never had before?”

Now they were both having a good laugh at her expense.

“Mr. Shinra, I really don’t see what’s so...”

“I don’t recall, Ms. Lockhart,” he interrupted her, “that we discussed the terms of your employment. Am I mistaken?”

Was he suggesting that such assignments should be acceptable because they hadn’t discussed it the details of their arrangement?

Or perhaps this had been expected all along, and she should have clarified from the beginning.

“No, Mr. Shinra, we didn’t discuss terms, but I certainly hadn’t expected this.”

“What exactly are you referring to? Did anyone ask you to perform such acts on my dime?”

Tifa split her attention for a moment to turn to look at Reno, who seemed to be studying one of the paintings. He wasn’t going to be any help.

“Not specifically, Mr. Shinra,” she admitted, turning back. “It was suggested, and when I expressed my disagreement, Tseng and Professor Hojo were not very pleased.”

“Ah, Tseng. His loyalty is to be admired, especially in one so young. And Professor Hojo is quite the eccentric.”

“Eccentric? He’s sick. Perverted. And Shinra may be a great place to work for someone who needs the money, which I do, and trust me I’m not trying to be difficult, but there are certain things I can’t do, no matter what the paycheck looks like, which we never discussed either. I need to make that clear, and if it’s not acceptable, I won’t be able to work for you.”

Tifa squirmed under Mr. Shinra’s intense scrutiny.

“I apologize Ms. Lockhart.”

Oh, here it comes. She had just begun a job that promised a steady paycheck, and one that might even do more than barely pay the bills, and she was about to get canned over a misunderstanding.

“You have to understand how important Professor Hojo is to Shinra. His research has been ongoing for some time and is absolutely invaluable. Thus we do indulge his few idiosyncrasies. His appearance this morning at a social gathering was last minute and unexpected, and we needed to make an attempt to keep him entertained. I did not anticipate that it would spin so quickly out of control. My wife suggested that you were a strong personality, and so I assumed, perhaps erroneously, that you would be able to handle any situation that arose. I certainly did not expect you, as you so aptly put it, to prostitute yourself. You were hired as an assistant, of sorts, which entails quite a variety of responsibilities, some unusual. It is my hope that, with this new understanding regarding your employment, you will be flexible and work with us towards a mutually acceptable arrangement.”

He was sweet-talking her, glossing it over, and Tifa knew it, but maybe she had made it clear enough that there was a limit to what she was willing to do for the benefits of working for Shinra. It was worth giving it another try, wasn’t it?

“I can’t promise anything more than that I will try, Mr. Shinra.”

“That will be good enough,” he stated with nod.

“Thank you for seeing me.” She bowed slightly and turned to leave, trying not to walk too quickly towards the door.

“Ms. Lockhart, aren’t you forgetting something?”

She wheeled around, confused. He was holding an envelope, extended over the desk to her.

“Your first paycheck, for services rendered.”

She felt heat suffuse her cheeks and she hesitated before stepping back to accept the envelope. Bowing again, she made a careful retreat from the office. She heard Mr. Shinra ask Reno to stay for a moment and heard the door click closed behind her, leaving her standing in the foyer with the envelope in her hand, nothing but her name neatly typed across the front of the envelope. She wondered if, after her behavior today, she even deserved this. She certainly hadn’t expected to get paid so soon. Nodding at the secretary behind the desk and trying to ignore his glare, she opened the envelope carefully as she walked to the elevator.

She pulled the check free, looking at the figure in the small box. No. That wasn’t possible. She read the amount underneath, spelled out so there was no mistake, and her knees nearly gave out as she wondered how many women wouldn’t have minded playing Professor Hojo’s games for the amount of money Shinra had just paid her.

As it were, her rent and bills were taken care of with this check. For at least the next six months.

Tifa rode down in the elevator alone this time, contemplating the changes that might be in store if Shinra continued to pay her like this. They hadn’t even offered her a salary figure, but the amount of the check was far above anything she might have dreamed to ask for. She was distracted from her thoughts by the scene that met her in the lobby as the elevator doors slid open.

At first, she couldn’t tell what was going on, but fear settled in as she recognized the Turks circling about something towards the center of the large room. Was there a threat? Had somebody breached security? And how bad could it be if so many Turks had to be called in to take care of it?

Then the Turks separated slightly, and Tifa caught sight of what was attracting them. It was the girl that worked for Mrs. Shinra, cowering at the center of the group, whimpering pitifully as she cringed away from one particular Turk that was advancing on her.

“Well, well. What do we have here? Such a pretty little thing. Bet you’re just as sweet as sugar. What you say to giving me a taste?” When he reached out to touch her hair, she drew back, pushing the curly strands back behind an ear and then lowering her arms to cross them over her body protectively.

“Please. I just need to pick something up for Mrs. Shinra. Please let me go.” Her fear radiated in her voice, which was weak and trembling, and Tifa thought she saw a tear roll down the girl’s cheek.

The Turk was insistent, following her retreat, his fingers now playing with the lacing that held the collar of her blouse. Grabbing one end, he pulled the perfect bow loose, and she scrambled to re-tie it as she backed away, only to be caught in the arms of another Turk. He entrapped her, folding his arms around her, holding her against him as she struggled, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“Yep, sweet as sugar,” he commented as the first Turk took advantage of the girl being held still and traced his hand over her cheek, down her neck and over one breast. It was quite the lurid show for his fellow Turks, who were circling like wolves, snickering and leering, the closer ones reaching out to touch what they could, the girl twisting and turning in an attempt to free herself from the restraining arms, to avoid the unwanted contact, all to no avail.

Tifa was horrified. There were others in the lobby besides the Turks, but not one of them stepped up to do anything about what was going on right in front of their eyes. Was this what Mrs. Shinra had been talking about when she had suggested the Turks could be difficult? What an understatement that was! This wasn’t being difficult; it was simply disgusting, and Tifa was not going to, couldn’t, allow it to continue.

“Stop this! Let her go right now.” Tifa stepped into the center of the group, drawing the attention of the entire group, especially the two that were holding their prey. Moving quickly, Tifa took advantage of their surprise and grabbed the girl’s arm, pulling her away from the two Turks and out of the ring of Turks.

“Leave her alone. You’re all behaving like animals. How dare you?”

The Turk that had been holding the girl stepped forward from the group.

“Oooo, looks like we’ve got a live one here, boys. Feisty. I like ‘em when they fight.”

Tifa pushed the girl behind her as the man walked towards them, giving herself room to move, and when he got close enough, she spun, her kick catching him in the stomach and doubling him over. She fell back into a fighting crouch, fists lifted before her, prepared to defend or attack, whichever was called for.

“Bitch.”

The Turk was standing upright again and coming towards her, his rage obvious. Tifa dodged his fist, dropping low and striking a leg out to take his feet out from under him. He recovered quicker than she thought he would, jumping back to his feet, and she retreated from his anger as well as the other Turks, who had spanned out and were closing in. As she nearly tripped over the girl behind her, she started to wonder if she had bitten off more than she could chew, and she tried to prepare herself for the upcoming attack.

“What’s going on here?”

Tifa turned to the voice, careful to keep her guard. Tseng was approaching from across the lobby, but she remained wary. Tseng was in charge, according to what Reno had told her, but there were Turks here that were clearly older than him, not to mention larger. She found it difficult to believe that Tseng held enough power to keep them all at bay.

She resumed her fighting stance, not willing to trust to his authority, but just as she lifted her hands, strong arms hooked around her elbows, drawing them back and pulling her back into a long, lean frame of muscle. She struggled against the hold, turning her head enough to catch a glimpse of red hair.

“Let me go.”

Reno refused to release her, resting his head against hers instead, shushing her quietly, soothingly, and his shorter hair tickling along her cheek as he made sure he was too close for her to retaliate.

She stilled as Tseng stepped between her and the wall of Turks. He hadn’t said anything more, at least that she had heard, but it seemed he had command of the room by his presence alone. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t to anyone in particular, but the tense emotions seemed to be draining from the room.

“Assignments are to be carried out without delay. If you have not been assigned, report to my office immediately.” He didn’t wait for the room to clear as he turned to Tifa.

“Ms. Lockhart? Is your business here finished?”

Tifa tried once more to pull away from Reno, nearly tripping when he released his grip. He moved fluidly, slinking out of her reach with amazing speed, surprisingly graceful, and moved to stand at Tseng’s side. Tifa stared at his all too innocent face as she answered.

“I’ve met with Mr. Shinra, yes.”

“Would you like an escort home?”

“What about her?” Tifa gestured to the girl that was still cowering behind her, looking up at Tifa with wide, wondering eyes.

Tseng spared a glance for the girl.

“I assume you’re here for Mrs. Shinra?”

Her head bobbed up and down as she stood up, smoothing her skirt down.

“Then you best do what you came for. Mrs. Shinra will not be pleased if you return unsuccessful.”

The girl practically ran into the elevator, clutching her hands to her chest as she waited for the doors to slip closed.

“That’s it?” Tifa asked. “She’s assaulted by your Turks right here in the lobby, and you just send her on her way? And they don’t have to answer for it?”

Tseng’s impassive eyes met hers, their dark depths shining dangerously.

“Do you even know her name?”

What a startling question. How dare he try to smokescreen her with such a useless question?

“What difference does that make?” Her outrage was painfully clear in her tone.

He stared at her, expressionless, and then turned to return the way he had come, Reno falling into step behind him.

“Go home, Ms. Lockhart.”

“What about...”

“It’s not your problem. The Turks wouldn’t have hurt her, and I give you my word Aerith will return home safe.”

“But...”

Tseng didn’t acknowledge her further protest, his brisk pace taking him quickly down the hall. She wasn’t sure she believed him as the events of the past few minutes started to play through her mind, but she felt helpless to do anything further about it.

Aerith. She repeated the name in her head, determined that what she could do was check later to make sure the girl did make it home unharmed. And discuss with Mrs. Shinra the impracticality of Aerith continuing working for Shinra in her current capacity.

Yay! (with a question)

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 19:12:30 GMT

I'm HOOKED up! Oh, this is awesome. Optimum finally got whatever kink it was ironed out, and I am up and running.

ahem.

Now, if someone could kindly tell me how to hyperlink in a community? You know, where you click the link and it takes you to where you want it to go, not to some lj cut. It's driving me NUTS! And I couldn't find it in the faq's.

Distraction - Chapter 25 - Stepping Out - WK WiP

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 22:30:42 GMT

It's all under the LJ CUT:

I realized as I was working on this chapter how close I am to the end. I'm already dreading it. As necessary as it is (and it is CLEAR in my head, FINALLY!), I hate ending things, and this has been a pleasure to write, though unexpected. That said, I think I'm looking at between three and five more chapters depending on how things shape up as I'm writing. ( I could have done it in two really long chapters, including this one, but that didn't work for me, and updating would have taken forever!) For those of you that wait patiently for updates, you'll be happy to know that the next chapter is already quite far along, so the next update shouldn't be so far away.

The end of this chapter, by the way, I was forced to add. (You'll know what I mean when you get there) Ken twisted my arm, and Omi pointed out that not only would it lighten things up, but they were too cute to ignore. I think the boys were just messing with me.

Thank you for reading and for all the wonderful reviews and encouragment!

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Stepping Out

As the door closed, Aya rolled back to the window, a warm feeling settling in his chest. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? To allow someone to care for him? About him? He wasn’t sure, but at the moment the pleasure of it was far outweighing any guilt that went hand in hand with it.

Yohji had left the dinner choice up to him, and honestly he would have rather stayed in, but in this he felt an entirely different type of guilt. Yohji had been catering to him, keeping his promise to keep things low-key in public, and going out of his way to make sure Aya was comfortable. But Aya wasn’t entirely sure Yohji was comfortable himself. He was outgoing, liked to be around people, liked to know what was going on in that world out there that they were separate from as Weiss, and he had given all that up for Aya. Going out to dinner seemed a simple way of giving some of that back to him, as well as appeasing his more social side. And he trusted Yohji, knew that he would handle the situation and Aya’s self-consciousness with care.

As Aya had predicted, Yohji was thrilled with his choice to go out, though he had done a hell of a job containing it, and asked three times while he was dressing if Aya was sure he didn’t want to simply stay in. It became more difficult to assure him each time. He was caught somewhere between letting Yohji change his mind and being totally distracted by Yohji leisurely selecting and putting on his clothes. In the end, however, Aya insisted they go. Yohji chose a pair of dark brown jeans and an equally dark green sweater that was tight, showing off his lean body, but conservative enough to completely cover his stomach. He was dressed, intentionally Aya was sure, as casually as Aya was, and yet it seemed so much more stylish on Yohji that Aya was unable to stop staring at Yohji as they walked to the restaurant. Finally, Yohji turned, hands in his pockets, easy going but concerned, walking backwards in front of Aya so he could look at Aya as he spoke.

“What’s wrong?” He knew there was something, but couldn’t put his finger on it and the panicked expression on Aya’s face as he came to a dead stop confirmed it. Spooking Aya? Bad idea. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind. It’s not too late to go back.”

And that, Aya was learning, was one of the things that was so incredible about Yohji. He would have done it, turned around and gone home at a word from Aya, with a smile and without any questions or recriminations. Aya was profoundly grateful that going home hadn’t even been remotely what he was thinking.

“No.” He shook his head, glancing around, licking his lips nervously. “That’s not it.”

Yohji stopped, concerned.

“Tell me?” He made it a simple, gentle request. If there was something bothering Aya, if there was something Aya needed to tell him, he wanted to make sure Aya knew it was okay to say it.

Aya shifted uneasily, glancing around on the street. There were no people nearby, and he took a chance, blushing furiously, speaking softly.

“It’s just...you look good.”

Yohji tilted his head, his lips curling slowly into a tender, pleased smile. A compliment like that was the last thing he had expected to come from Aya. He knew Aya was attracted to him, but had thought it might be a more primal, elusive attraction. This was the first indication that it was also a physical attraction, that Aya noticed his appearance in such a way, and as superficial as it might be, the compliment seeped in, warm and tingling, and wrapped itself around Yohji’s heart.

He took one step closer, keeping his hands in his pockets, careful of appearances, lowering his voice.

“Thank you, Aya. As do you.” He wanted to touch Aya, show him how those words had made him feel. A hug, a kiss, even something as simple as touching his face, cupping his chin. An explanation, a description simply wouldn’t do it justice.

He had to concentrate to restrain himself.

Aya didn’t think his face could flush hotter, but it did. Yohji seemed so happy. And sounded so sincere. Aya let his hair shield his reaction from anyone who might observe it as he circled around Yohji to continue walking, muttering a quiet thank you that accompanied his own small, shy smile. Yohji hesitated only long enough to soak in those timidly spoken words and rare smile before turning to catch up.

Yohji did keep his promise, treating the entire evening as if they were simply friends eating out together, although they both knew it was something more. He chose a restaurant that allowed them a moderate amount of privacy, and kept the conversation light and easy, no pressure. Amazingly, it was easy to find things to talk about, even for Aya, who was finding out that there were many things he knew about Yohji but hadn’t realized he knew, while there were many things he thought he knew that he had no idea about, from the superficial to the personal. He had thought Yohji selfish, but Yohji’s patience and consideration belied that at every turn. He had known from his observations of Yohji with the girls in the shop that he was probably a good date, but he didn’t know what that really meant, how focused Yohji could be, how intent. He had thought Yohji couldn’t control his flirting with others, but damn if he gave the waitress even a half a glance, and that was only when necessary. Despite the friendly nature they were projecting, Yohji’s attention was for Aya alone. And when they were done, Yohji claimed the check before it even hit the table, extending a hand as the waitress approached and taking it directly from her.

As it turned out, with the exception of any touching or blatant signs of emotion, it was a date in every sense of the word. Yohji even managed, without any apparent effort, to somehow open every door for Aya.

When all was said and done, it seemed like only moments had passed, and they were standing in the hallway between their rooms again, Aya uncertain of what to do next.

“Is this where we kiss and say good night?” He couldn’t help asking. This was a situation in which he was totally without experience.

From anyone else, Yohji would have sworn the question was meant in humor. But from Aya? No, he was perfectly serious. He really was lost on the relationship thing.

“That depends.” Yohji tilted his head, leaning with one shoulder against the wall.

“On what?”

“Whether you want me to kiss you, and if you want to say good night.” He added a tiny drop of seduction to his voice while keeping his hopefulness to a minimum. Damn, he wanted Aya to stay, and he didn’t have words for how much he wanted that kiss. In answer to Aya’s perplexed expression, he elaborated on his understated offer.

“And one doesn’t necessarily have to lead to the other.”

Aya searched his eyes, his face for a long moment before giving that simple nod of his. As if that were a definitive answer. Yohji waited to see if more would come, but Aya was evidently stuck in his state of uncertainty. Whether it was from a lack of direction and experience, from not being able to decide what he wanted, not being sure how to ask for what he wanted, or a combination of sorts, Yohji couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of, however, was what he wanted. He wanted Aya to stay, to come in, to spend more time with him, to be as comfortable in Yohji’s room as he had been earlier that evening. And he wanted that kiss. Oh, how he wanted that kiss.

But more than that, he wanted Aya to want it. Coming to Yohji as he had, sleeping next to him, even returning to his room and waiting for him were one thing. Actually spending time with Yohji was an entirely different matter.

First step; make Aya feel welcome without being pushy.

He unlocked his door, remaining as he was as the door swung open, the invitation as clear as he could make it without speaking it aloud.

And there was that nod again, as Aya stared into the dim room without moving, held captive in his indecision. Yohji waited, leaning his head against the wall with a gentle, patient smile, crossing one ankle casually over the other, his heel rolling in a silent, easy rhythm.

“So if I don’t want to say goodnight?” Aya asked.

“We don’t have to.”

“And what about that kiss?”

Yohji’s foot stilled as his focus sharpened. Had Aya made a decision? Was that an invitation?

He and Aya had never engaged in such intimacy. He couldn’t count the few kisses he had placed on Aya’s cheek, on the back of his neck. He couldn’t count that first insane, furious kiss that had caught Aya completely off guard. Hell, it had caught him off guard, and he was surprised he walked away from it without major damage. He couldn’t count the times they had sex; it had been heated and primal, but not intimate.

No, this was something different, and Yohji wondered if Aya knew what he was asking for. Pushing himself away from the wall, Yohji approached slowly, noting that Aya still wasn’t looking at him. Was that a good sign? Or bad? When he reached a hand to caress along the sharp definition of Aya’s cheek, Aya leaned into the cradle of his palm, his eyes slipping closed. Okay. Good sign. He turned Aya’s face, giving Aya time to feel the length of his body as he stepped closer, giving him time to feel their close proximity, giving him time to panic. He waited for Aya’s eyes to open again; he wanted Aya to see him, to fully understand this, to own it. Aya focused on Yohji’s mouth, his own lips opening as if he were going to speak, but no words came, and then Aya surprised him when he met his gaze. The determination was clear, as was the fear, the anxiety, the panic Yohji had been searching for, but he kept his face upturned as Yohji closed the distance between them until there was barely a space between them. He hesitated there, feeling the warmth of Aya’s lips, and then closed that scant distance in a very controlled and gentle lingering press of lips.

Aya waited for the protest to rise within him, waiting for his reflexes to kick in and draw him away from the contact.

It never came.

In fact, it felt right. As if he had been waiting forever for this moment, for this heat, for this electricity that tingled along the sensitive flesh of his lips, and drew from him the breath that he had been holding in a warm rush.

Yohji felt the breath against his cheek as Aya exhaled, felt Aya’s body relax minutely, thrilled that Aya hadn’t pulled away, wasn’t running, that they remained touching even as the first kiss ended and the second began, then the third, their mouths slowly softening, their lips working against each other, drawing from each other, slowly parting, tongues meeting tentatively, until they both sank into the kiss, each tasting deeply of the other.

Yohji didn’t want this to end, didn’t want to let go of the moment, but he was dimly aware of Aya’s hands clutching at the front of his shirt with what he was afraid might be a bit of desperation. He gentled the kiss, pulling away slowly, resting his forehead against Aya’s as they fought to catch their breath, and then finally stepped back, turned, and walked into his room, flicking on a dim light on his way, leaving the door open behind him.

Aya fought to think past the fire still rushing through him, threatening to consume him, fought to weigh his options, fought to balance his fears with the emotions he was now beginning to understand and permitting himself the luxury of. In the end, it was simple. His room, cold, empty, and lonely with a high probability of nightmares keeping him awake and miserable. Or door number two, Yohji’s room. He could already feel the warmth emanating into the hallway, was reminded how comfortable he had been there, how well he had slept wrapped in Yohji’s arms, how cared for he felt.

He didn’t want to be lonely anymore.

Not four heartbeats later, he followed Yohji through the door, closing it behind him.

Down the hallway, from the darkness of the stairwell, there was a soft sigh of relief.

“Do you think they heard us?” Ken asked quietly, still carefully watching Yohji’s door from his crouched position.

“I don’t think they were aware of anything but each other.”

“And Aya thinks we were hot this morning? I guess Yohji was right, Aya’s working on it.”

“Good thing he took your advice, eh, Ken?” Omi slid his hand under the loose hem of Ken’s t-shirt, teasing at the warm flesh that quivered at his touch, drawing Ken’s attention back to its previous focus.

“You’re room or mine?” He couldn’t clearly make out Ken’s features in the dark to see his reaction, but he didn’t need to as Ken rolled him, pinning him on the stairs.

“I don’t know, Omi. What’s wrong with right here?”

Indeed.

The Perfect Fit - A Reno-centric Drabble

Sun, 13 Sep 2009 23:34:59 GMT

Title: The Perfect Fit
Rating: M
Word Count: 387
Summary: Rude solves a puzzle about Reno
Warnings: Violence, Language, sexual situations, implied future yaoi
Status: A WIP, although each drabble is complete on its own. f-mystic.livejournal.com/44205.html

It's all under the LJ Cut:

Warning for violence.

I took some liberty with this in Rude being a Turk before Reno, if only by a small amount of time. I'm not insinuating here that Rude has any kind of authority; he's simply playing a guessing game, trying to guess the perfect fit. Thank you for the R & R.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

The Perfect Fit

They were trained well in a variety of forms and weapons. But they all had their favorite, and sometimes one of them even had a weapon that was part of their personality. A perfect fit, as simple as that.

As Rude observed Reno from his vantage point, he tried to identify what that weapon would be for their newest Turk. They had tried guns. Reno didn’t have a problem with them, but he was more of an up close and personal fighter. While Rude liked to keep his distance, keep his hands clean, keep his wardrobe sharp, Reno had a way of getting in his enemy’s face, almost as if he wanted to look them in the eye as he took their life.

So, with some success, they moved to swords, then to short swords, and finally to knives. With all the rest, Reno was more than sufficient, but with knives, he excelled. He could hide them easily, and they fit his style. To some degree.

Reno could have easily taken out his opponent without such dramatic flair, but he was enjoying this fight, weaving in and out, playing with him. He flowed around and about, combining his Shinra training with what he knew before Tseng found him. Rude couldn’t see the knife in Reno’s hand, but he could see the evidence of the honed blade, blood dripping from a multitude of small flesh wounds that by themselves wouldn’t have been worth the time, but together must have been agony. Reno dodged any retaliation, zigging like lightening and as untouchable. At long last, bored with his game but high on the kill, Reno circled, coming up and under his opponent in a blur of speed that was charged with attitude, determination, instinct, and survival. The outcome was quickly determined, in the expression on the double crossing bastard’s face, in the brutal twist of Reno’s body, in the crimson fluid that gushed as Reno pulled back. A killing blow. Reno disengaged, standing clear to survey the damage done, disheveled, hair pulled loose, clothes and hands bloody. But when he met Rude’s gaze, his eyes, his body, still crackled with that menacing energy.

With that image indelibly burnt into his mind, the answer was clear. Rude knew exactly what kind of weapon had been made for Reno.

fireworks

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 16:57:20 GMT

They do this once a year in the park nearby, it seems. Problem is, I never know when, so it's the first canon shot that clues me in. It's a neat surprise, and I get to enjoy it sitting in my driveway. I'm such a home-body. And I have to go back to work tomorrow, so it's like the last hoorah of vacation. Of course, on video, it's kinda like watching the yule log. :) The puppy was really good this year. No crying and hiding. She lay down on the ground beside me and watched, although the last volley had her trying to hide her ears.

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Illicit Designs - A Reno-centric drabble

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 06:02:09 GMT

Title: Illicit Designs
Rating: M
Word Count: 300
Summary: Follows f-mystic.livejournal.com/41333.html#cutid1 and http://f-mystic.livejournal.com/42811.html#cutid2but is not a direct continuation. This drabble: Reno makes an observation and a promise.
Warnings: Language, sexual situations, implied future yaoi
Status: A WIP, although each drabble is complete on its own. As of chapter three, includes mature content, implied yaoi. Also warning for future violence. Rating has changed to M.

It's all under the LJ CUT:

I'm interpreting the Honeybee as a straight-up brothel for this, though I know the implications in canon can be interpreted more colorfully.

Warnings: Language, sexual situations, implied future yaoi.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Illicit Designs

Nice tits.

That was his first thought as she strutted by.

Long legs, sweet ass.

Yeah, she’d do, yo.

He lit a cigarette as he followed her down the hall of the brothel. What luck his new job had brought him here tonight; what a perk that he had about an hour to himself. And what better way to spend it?

Well, he could think of one other, but that wasn’t an option at the moment.

He paused at the door as the elevator slid open down the hall and he caught the sound of a familiar voice from within.

Rufus Shinra, Tseng at his back listening to the spoiled bastard go on about how unnecessary this was.

Reno’s lip twitched as he leaned against the door jamb to watch the two men walk down the hall, Rufus’ white coat swirling out behind him like a cape.

Stupid fuck. Wasn’t even smart enough to appreciate Daddy’s waste of money without bitching about it.

Of course, Reno couldn’t figure why Old Man Shinra, so determined to get his cherry son laid, would send him here.

Reno had it figured out. He knew the Inn didn’t have anything Rufus Shinra would be interested in.

Nope. For all the Honeybee had to offer, it fell short on this one, completely failing to provide for Rufus Shinra’s particular tastes. There were, after all, no men on the menu.

Yes, Reno had it figured out, and as he reached down to adjust the throbbing ache of his cock within the confining fabric of his pants, he vowed that though he would relieve that ache in the softer flesh of a woman this night, one of these days he would be the one to give Rufus precisely what he wanted, exactly what he needed.

Double Trouble and Then Some - a ReTi fanfic - complete

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 20:41:06 GMT

Fandom: ffvii
Pairing: Reno/Tifa
Word Count: 4,276
Rated: T
Warnings: AU-ishness, OOC on everybody's behalf, total absolute farce, cliche, and general strangeness and possibly insanity on the author's part. And while I'm at it, I only proof-read this once and don't know the difference between 'where' and 'wear'. :)
A/N: This was written for ryu19 . The prompt was based on the movie Multiplicity, which I refused to watch, and therefore may have done something entirely different, but that's the way the keys clicked. I hope you enjoy it!

It's all under the LJ CUT:

For The Sacred and Profane.

Warnings for au-ishness, total, absolute farce, ooc-ness on everybody's parts, and cliche.

I neither own nor profit from ffvii or its characters.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Double Trouble and Then Some

Tifa looked at the clock and then back at the bills spread out on the table before her. It was fast approaching one thirty in the morning, and she had to get Elly up by seven to get ready for school, not to mention the million errands she had to do before she could open the bar the next afternoon. Business was good, and she had managed to get a bit of help so she wasn’t tied to the bar 24/7, but it wasn’t nearly enough, and the bills kept rolling in.

And there they were in front of her, spread out, demanding to be paid.

There just wasn’t enough time in a day.

An hour later, Reno found Tifa still in her chair at the kitchen table, head resting on her arms, which were resting on the array of bills, some finished and secured in their envelopes, some yet to be paid.

Ditching his Turk jacket in the hamper and kicking off his muddy boots, he wrapped his arm around his wife, urging her to stand.

“Come on, Baby. It’s time for bed.”

She muttered and whined a bit as he managed to get her to her feet, at which point he swept her into his arms, giving up on the notion of getting her up the stairs any other way.

Once he had placed her gently in bed and removed her shoes and what he could of her clothes, he wandered into Elly’s room, smiling down at his beautiful daughter as he found her, curled up in a tight little ball, her red hair fanned out across the pillow. She wiggled a bit as he pushed a stray strand of hair from her face, sleepy brown eyes cracking open to look up at her father.

“Daddy?”

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. I’m just saying goodnight. You go back to sleep.”

“Hmmm,” she muttered. “Pancakes for breakfast?”

He nodded, leaning to whisper in her ear.

“With chocolate chips. Now get back to those sweet dreams.” He kissed her cheek gently, and stayed with her a moment, smoothing a hand over her hair as she slept, and then stole out of the room, leaving the door partially open and the hall light lit.

Tifa woke to the sun shining through the curtains, and knew right away that she had overslept. Practically flying out of the bed, she threw her robe on and raced to Elly’s room first. Finding the bed empty, the kitchen was her next stop, where she found Elly happily shoveling pancakes into her mouth and Reno cleaning up the stove top.

“Oh, Gaia! You’re going to be late for work, Reno. You should have woken me up!”

Shrugging, he leaned back against the sink, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

“When I have to put you to bed at near three in the morning, I figure you need to sleep. Relax.” He hugged her as she came closer. “I already called Tseng and Elly’s had breakfast. Anything else before I go?”

Tifa couldn’t speak for a second. She felt horrible. This was at least the fourth time in the past two weeks Reno had to call in late because she had overslept, yet she never seemed to get enough sleep. Tseng was being very understanding, but she knew that, at this rate, his generosity wouldn’t last long.

“No, you go to work and apologize to Tseng for me, and I’ll get Elly to school.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek, but he pulled her back for another, more intimate kiss.

“Eww, Daddy! You’re gonna give Mommy cooties!”

He drew away from Tifa laughing, and on his way to the door, made sure to plant a kiss on Elly’s cheek as well, despite her trying to squirm from his grasp.

“Here’s some for you, too.”

“Daddy!” She cried as he raced out the door. Scrunching up her face, she looked at her mother, who smiled sweetly.

“Don’t worry, Baby. They’re the good kind. Don’t you dare wipe them off!”

As she ran her errands, Tifa stopped by to say hello to Aeris, but felt terrible that her first sentence included the phrase ‘I only have a minute’. Of course, she ended up explaining her situation to Aeris, nearly bursting into tears as she realized how truly upset she was at her predicament. She had a wonderful life, a husband and daughter that loved her, and no time to enjoy it. It was as simple as that! Aeris smiled in that enigmatic way she had and raised a finger, gesturing her further into the house.

“I have something that may help.” She led Tifa down the stairs to the basement, which was well lit, and, apparently, had been turned into a lab of some sorts. In the corner stood a strange chamber that was covered by buttons and gadgets, the likes of which Tifa had never seen before, except within the walls of…Shinra.

“It’s an old Shinra gadget that I’ve been playing with. I figure Shinra invented it, someone ought to get some good out of it.”

“You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I think so. I’ve only tried it a couple of times.”

“What exactly does it do?”

Aeris batted her eyelashes innocently. “It makes clones.”

And so, the trouble began.

Reno looked around the house. There wasn’t a speck of dust, an item out of place, and…where were the curtains. This wasn’t something he normally paid attention to, but when every curtain in the house disappeared, how could he not notice. He walked through the house, finally finding one item out of place. A steam cleaner. Did they even own a steam cleaner? He stepped over the bulky object, and continued his search, finally finding Tifa, who was outside, hanging the missing curtains on a clothesline. A clothesline? He didn’t know they had one of those either.

“Tifa? What you up to?”

She spared him half a glance, her mouth full of clothes pins as she snapped the corners of material up, and when the last pin was in place, she gestured at her handiwork.

“Spring Cleaning.”

Spring cleaning? Had he stepped into the twilight zone? Had Tifa lost her mind. Granted, it was spring, but Tifa had been so run down lately, completely swamped. Where was she getting the energy for all of this?

“Uh huh. And what about Elly? Did you pick her up from school?”

“Elly? School?” She blinked wide brown eyes at him, clearly puzzled. “I got all the cobwebs down, and pulled the curtains and all the sheets for cleaning, which I still have to get back on the beds. And then I dusted the entire downstairs. It was quite a chore, you know. And then I vacuumed and steam cleaned the rugs, and mopped all the other floors. Tomorrow, I have to get to dusting the upstairs and doing those floors, and then I have to get all the windows cleaned, and…”

“Tifa!” She looked up at him again, the same curious expression on her face.

“Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Did you pick Elly up from school?”

“Oh. Yes. I’ll get to it. Don’t worry about that.” Humming, she went back to hanging another curtain.

Reno backed into the house, just a bit worried. This was not the Tifa he knew. Yes, the house had needed sprucing up, but Tifa always seemed to manage, and without being scary about it. Where this cleaning bug had come from, he wasn’t sure, but he wished it would go away. And what was the story with Elly? Tifa was already late picking her up, but if she said she had it handled, he wasn’t going to interfere.

Removing his already loosened tie, he went to change his clothes. It was bad enough he had to wear that suit at work; he certainly wasn’t going to wear it at home. He had just come back down the stairs when the front door opened and Elly came running toward him with a gleeful “Daddy”, dropping her schoolbag on the way. Reno scooped her up into his arms, happy to see her, but frowning.

“You’re home.” He said incredulously.

“Silly, Daddy. I can’t stay in school all the time.”

Tifa came through the doorway a second later, her purse over one shoulder, holding the mail in the other hand.

“I thought you said you hadn’t picked her up,” Reno sputtered, looking from Tifa standing in front of him towards the back of the house where he had last seen her. He hadn’t been upstairs that long, had he?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Baby. I picked her up an hour ago.” As she approached, Reno leaned over Elly to kiss her, but Tifa wasn’t having any of that.

“Not now, Reno. Would you mind getting Elly ready for dinner while I cook?”

“Are you feeling okay, Tifa?”

“Of course I am. Just give me a bit, and dinner will be on the table.”

Doing his best to hide his confused expression from Elly, Reno took Elly to her room to change.

He had just gotten Elly changed into her play clothes and hung up her uniform when Tifa appeared in the doorway.

“I hear it’s time to play.”

Elly jumped up and down, bounding into her mother’s arms.

“I thought you were cooking dinner.” Reno’s head was starting to spin.

Tifa’s brow scrunched in confusion, but then she smiled.

“Don’t worry. It’ll get done. Right now, I want to play!”

“What about homework?” Reno asked. “You have any homework, Elly?”

Elly never had a chance to answer. Tifa stamped her foot, knotting her fists at her sides, and pouted terribly.

“I don’t want to do homework! I want to play!” And despite this behavior being the most extremely out of character so far today, Reno didn’t get time to argue with her because Elly quickly got over her own shock at her mother’s behavior and joined in.

Reno wondered if there was any Excedrin left in the medicine closet.

“Let’s go outside, Mommy!”

“But I want to finger-paint.” There was that pout again.

“Outside.”

“Finger-paint!”

That was it. Reno couldn’t take it anymore. He bailed on both of them, leaving them to duke it out on their own. He didn’t even have the strength to referee.

Making his way to the medicine chest, Reno got the Excedrin he had been thinking about, popping two in his mouth and, not even bothering with a cup, scooping water into his mouth to swallow them. As he was bent over, he felt arms wrap around him from behind, searching fingers caressing over his chest and down over his stomach. He stood up, watching Tifa’s hands in the mirror as he felt her mold herself to his back, rubbing her face into the hollow between his shoulder blades.

“Hey Baby,” she purred. “I missed you today.”

Reno leaned against the sink, shaking his head for a moment. Tifa must have given up on playing with Elly. Or maybe he was losing his mind.

“I guess you’re ready for that kiss hello now, huh?”

Instead of answering, she used one hand to turn him, pressing him back against the sink, and rose up to lock her mouth to his in something far more exotic than a hello kiss, her tongue invading his mouth, her body writhing against him, hands wandering, groping with desperate heat, one leg wrapping around his leg till she nearly threw him off balance with her voracity. Drawing back suddenly from the searing kiss, Tifa smiled seductively.

“Give me a minute. I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” And as quickly and silently as she appeared, she was gone.

Reno took a moment to re-orient his muddled brain, bracing himself, holding tight to the edge of the sink as he stared at the doorway that Tifa had just vacated with a sultry swagger of hips.

Well, at least this looked promising.

On his way to the bedroom, he was distracted by the odors coming from the kitchen below. Damn, what was that woman cooking? It smelled absolutely mouth-watering. He glanced at the closed bedroom door, and figured Tifa probably needed a second to change. It wouldn’t hurt for him to take a detour to find out what was on the stove.

Apparently, Tifa had the same idea, because when he got there she was standing over the stove, the wooden spoon lifted to her lips to taste whatever smelled so wonderful. Reno wandered over, wrapping his arms around her waist, somewhat like she had done to him only a few minutes ago, and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“It smells delicious.” He would have asked for a taste, but his arms were now wrapped around a panicked, struggling Tifa.

“Reno! For Gaia’s sake! We’re in the kitchen!”

He reached for the tie on her impeccably spotless apron.

“Yeah? So?”

She skittered further away.

“It’s just not…proper.”

“Proper?” He chuckled. “Since when are you worried about proper?”

Tifa drew up indignantly.

“What are you trying to say? Are you saying I’m…I’m…improper?”

Reno dropped his head, rubbing at his temples, which were beginning to throb harder despite the Excedrin.

“No, Tifa. That’s not what I meant. I just thought…oh, never mind. I think I’m going to lie down.”

“No time for that now,” Tifa informed him, pointing her wooden spoon at the food on the stove. “Dinner’s ready. If you get Elly, I’ll have it all on the table when you get back.”

It proved to be an interesting evening. Dinner, right down to flowers and candles, had been waiting on the table when Reno returned with Elly in tow. They had eaten and Tifa had promptly cleared the table and, with efficiency Reno had never witnessed before, had all the dishes clean, dried and put away in record time. Expecting Tifa to read to Elly for a while, Reno went into the shop to check out the new gadget he had picked up at work that day, but within minutes, Elly found him, a pout on her face.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” Reno asked as he put the new tracking device back in its box and picked her up. “I thought you and Mommy were reading.”

Elly rubbed at her eyes, sniffling. “She wouldn’t let me pick any of the fairy tales. Then she threw the book down on the floor and stomped out of the room.”

Reno had to bite his lip to hide his concern.

“Where is she now?”

“She’s upstairs scrubbing the bottom of the tub. She said it’s going to sparkle like a diamond. What’s a diamond, Daddy?”

“It’s that shiny rock that Mommy wears on her finger. The one you like to play with.” Reno kept his worry from showing in his tone.

“She wasn’t wearing it today.”

“No. She doesn’t wear it while she’s cleaning. Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

They found Tifa furiously polishing the silver faucets. She frantically grabbed for the scrub brush when Reno took it away from her.

“Reno! I have to finish this!”

“Trust me, it’s finished Tifa. It wasn’t that clean when it was new. It’s time to stop for the day and unwind a little bit. I’m going to put Elly to bed, and when I get back, I expect you to be doing something besides cleaning.”

Not waiting for a response, he did exactly as he said he was going to do and brought Elly to her room. He spent a few minutes settling her in for the night, and found it was the most relaxed he’d been since he came home that afternoon. He planned on talking to Tifa in the morning, after a good night’s sleep, and finding out just what was going on.

After making up for the fairy tales Tifa had failed to read Elly, and making sure everything was ready for school the next day, Reno quietly backed out of the room.

“I’ve been looking for you all over the place.”

He spun around to face Tifa, startled in his own house, and was even further surprised by the sight of his wife. Where had that negligee come from? He didn’t remember that one at all, a combination of sheer crimson red silk and tantalizing lace trim in black, complete with garters, stockings and patent leather stilettos.

She was walking towards him and by the time he caught his breath enough to speak, she had wrapped herself around him, stealing that breath back in a kiss.

What to do?

He carried her into the bedroom, barely able to hold on to her as she squirmed against him. Tifa tore at his shirt with a fervor that was both erotic and frightening, and Reno had to force himself to relax and go with the moment. Who would have thought that would ever happen? He no sooner placed her on the bed, and she rolled him, once again taking control and leaving him off balance, yet through the haze of desperation she was creating, Reno became aware of a strange, persistent sound that he couldn’t quite place, and he finally had to hold Tifa’s hands away from him and emphatically shush her in order to listen more carefully.

He finally identified the noise; the tap, tap of the shop door banging back and forth. Damn. He had forgotten to close and lock it. Rolling Tifa away from him, he stood up, taking his shirt off and throwing it on the bedside chair.

“Hold that thought,” he murmured back to Tifa. “I forgot to lock that door.”

“But Reee-no.” She was crawling towards him across the bed and leaned down on her elbows when she reached the edge. “Just leave it. I can’t wait any longer.”

It was tempting, but he had to take care of this.

“Can’t, Tifa. Elly could get in there with the door open. I’ll be back in just a minute.” It wouldn’t even take that long if he could help it.

He practically flew down the stairs and locked up the shop. On his way back through, he rounded a corner and bumped hard into Tifa coming the other way.

“You really couldn’t wait, could you?” He smiled, at last appreciating some of the strangeness of the evening.

And then Tifa drew back from him with a sharp, indignant gasp, and her hands went to the collar of her robe, which he noted was already closed up to her neck, to pull it even closer.

“Reno! What are you doing running around the house half dressed?” She was breathing hard and looked slightly bewildered.

“What do you mean?” He ran a hand down his bare body, and then reached for her. “Elly’s asleep. The whole house is ours.”

She retreated from his grasp, her fingers clenching at her robe even tighter.

“Oh no, you don’t! I am not engaging in any…activities with you.” And she looked like she meant it. Leave it to a woman to change her mind in a matter of seconds. “Did you check the thermostat?” She added.

“Um, no.” He pointed in the general direction down the hall absent-mindedly. “I’ll take care of that now.”

“You do that. And get your mind out of the gutter!” With a huff, she was gone.

Reno muttered his way to the thermostat, turning it down a few degrees, and then muttered his way back to the bedroom, throwing open the door in annoyance.

“You took faaar too long, Lover,” Tifa purred at him from the bed. “I was about to get bored.”

Reno leaned back against the door, closed his eyes and counted to ten, fully expecting that when he opened his eyes Tifa would be pushing him away again. Or cleaning. Or arguing with him childishly like she had with Elly. Nope. There she was, still in that negligee, sprawled out on the bed, rolled up on her elbows, actually blowing a kiss at him and beckoning him with her fingertips. He approached the bed slowly, waiting for the hammer to fall.

“Are you sure about this, Tifa?”

She raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about you all…”

“Daaaadddy!”

Reno turned to Elly’s little voice, calling him with that little quiver she sometimes had when she was afraid of the dark. Tifa dropped back on the bed, clearly frustrated, and Reno sighed. One more time. One more distraction. He wondered what kind of mood Tifa would be in when he got back. With his luck, she’d be vacuuming the mattress.

When he arrived at Elly’s room, she was sitting up in bed, snuffling a little, but not in the way she did when she had a bad dream.

“What you need, Baby?”

“I’m thirsty, Daddy.”

He took the glass from her bedside table and went to refill it in the bathroom, where he found Tifa standing over the sink with a thoughtful pout on her face.

“What’s the matter, Tifa?”

“I have to brush my teeth.”

Okay. “And?”

She turned that pout on him full force.

“I hate brushing my teeth, Reno. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Why do they have to make toothpaste in such icky flavors?”

His brow scrunching together in confusion, he never had a chance to answer her.

“You want to play a game? I want to play a game.”

“Well, we were getting to that, weren’t we?” He fingered the edge of her robe, wondering if she would still protest a kiss. No, protesting wasn’t the right word for the expression he saw rise on her face.

“Eeeewww! Not that kind of game, Reno! Monopoly. I want to play Monopoly.” She bounced past him. “And I want to be the chocobo.”

Reno stared after her, dazed, and then remembered why he was there. Water. He filled the glass and brought it back to Elly, sitting with her after she had her drink until she finally drifted off to sleep again. On his way back to his room, he braced himself for an all-night Monopoly marathon.

The room was dark when he entered, and he decided to leave the lights off. At this point, if Tifa had decided to go to sleep, he wasn’t going to argue. Removing the rest of his clothes in the dark, he gently climbed onto the bed.

“I hope you’re ready, Lover,” Tifa whispered softly in the dark, and he felt one of those patent leather shoes run up his calf. “You’re in for a long night.”

Come morning, Reno could hardly open his eyes. He glanced around, finding himself alone, and sat up on the edge of the bed, only to find everything stiff and sore. Tifa had certainly kept her promise. Hearing voices making quite a bit of racket downstairs, he slipped on his robe and shuffled his way to investigate. Only to find, upon entering the kitchen and tripping over his own feet at the sight that met him, no fewer than five Tifa’s staring back at him.

“What. The. Hell.”

One Tifa stepped forward from the bunch.

“They’re clones, Reno,” she explained in a rush. I didn’t have time to get everything done, and Aerith had this machine that she somehow got from Shinra, and I thought it might, well, she thought it might solve my problem.”

Oh, Gaia, how that explained a few things from the day before. Reno looked at each of the clones, a shudder running down his spine.

“They can’t stay, Tifa. I just can’t…no, they have to go.”

“I agree.” That was surprising, but she sounded sincere. “I just realized it’s going to be a full time job to keep them organized, and if that’s the case, I might as well take care of things myself. I’ve already called Aerith, and she’s going to take them and find them places to work where they’ll be useful. She’s on her way here now.”

Aerith, true to her word, showed up within a few minutes, and promised, along with quite a few apologies, that she already had a couple of things in mind to make sure the Tifa clones would be happy. Tifa closed the door behind them and turned back to Reno, hoping he would be all right with one small request.

“Do you think, Reno, I could hire a house cleaning service to come in once a week? The clones didn’t work, but I think that would take a lot off my mind.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Of course you can, Sweetheart. Whatever you want, just no more clones.”

“Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder, squeezing him tight. She couldn’t fail to notice the way he winced.

“You okay, Reno? Did you hurt yourself at work yesterday?”

He grinned boyishly at her, a flush spreading over his cheeks. Last night had been something else, and Tifa didn’t even realize it.

“It was all you, Sweetheart. You wore me out last night. You’re lucky I can walk. I must be getting old.”

Her eyebrows nearly met in the middle of her forehead.

“You must have been dreaming, Reno. Yuffie and I had a girl’s night out last night. I slept at her house and just got home a little…while…a…..go….” Her eyes were widening as realization hit her.

“Oh GODDESS! You slept with one of them!”

Reno, having figured out what had happened a breath sooner, was already half way across the room, his aches and pains forgotten in the light of having to come up with a strategy for taking all the blame for Tifa’s botched misadventure.

Consorting With the Enemy - Chapter 3 - A Reno/Tifa fanfic - WIP

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 03:35:43 GMT

Title: Consorting with the Enemy
Fandom: ffvii, AU
Pairings: Reno/Tifa for now. More will be added.
Word Count: 2,760
Rating: M
Warnings: Mild adult themes and language in this chapter. Future mature/adult content, erotic content, possible violence, and general strangeness.

A/N: I was mistaken. This is as far as the original vision went. Not the last chapter. My memory is shot, but when I started to write this, I thought, yeah I remember this. I'm trying something new with this fic, although I'm not sure yet if it's working or if it was just a momentary lapse of insanity. I'll see how the future chapters come together, but if you notice anything different, letting me know will clue me in on how successful I am. Thanks to rageofloki for proofing.

Previous chapters:

f-mystic.livejournal.com/35702.html#cutid1

http://f-mystic.livejournal.com/39694.html#cutid2

'nuff said. It's all under the LJ CUT:

This was doable. If nothing more were expected besides a simple dance or two, it was acceptable.

Then, sliding his hand from where it rested on her waist to plant it firmly on the swell of her behind, the Professor pulled her closer, grinding their hips together, and Tifa didn’t dare even joke about what else that might be in his pocket. No, she was pretty sure he was simply happy to see her, be near her. Have his grubby, disgusting hands touching her, squeezing her, molding her body to his.

Tifa began not caring how embarrassing it might be to throw up in public. In this case, it might even be worth it.

Keeping in mind her conversation with Tseng, Tifa did her best to keep a bit of distance between her and the illustrious Professor without it appearing too much of a struggle, but it became clear that the elusive space she craved wasn’t going to happen, and she was forced to deal with his advances in the best way she could. When one of his female companions circled around to mold herself to Tifa’s back however, she couldn’t help the squeak of panic that erupted from her throat. The woman undulated in just the right way to press them all tighter together, and the claustrophobic feeling that had been quickly developing within Tifa’s chest and throat threatened to completely overwhelm her.

In her state of panic, her focus narrowed dangerously, choosing select things to bring to the forefront of her mind: The leer as Professor Hojo, prattling on incessantly, commented on how good her ass felt and how she startled like a virgin at every little touch; the sensation of her pulse thrumming in her throat; the chill that had settled into her body despite the sweat she could feel collecting on her back.

The room swayed ominously in a way that had nothing to do with the dancing, and Tifa’s vision dimmed dramatically, leaving her wondering for a confused moment why someone was flickering the lights.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The amused feminine voice, combined with the Professor coming to a standstill, cut through Tifa’s distress. A finely manicured hand with long fingers and lethal nails painted a deep crimson around the Professor’s upper arm and came to rest in the center of his chest, effectively giving Tifa some much needed, much appreciated space. Professor Hojo’s eyes were immediately locked on that hand and slowly traveled the length of the arm as he released Tifa completely from his grip.

The woman at the end of that arm was nothing short of breathtaking, in a sultry, exotic way that exuded sexuality and confidence. Tifa was as mesmerized by her as Professor Hojo was, as everyone immediately surrounding them was. Her makeup was as perfect as her manicure, every stroke intended to highlight the subtle nuances of her face; the hollow cheeks beneath sharply defined delicate cheekbones with perfectly symmetrical lines of a rose-hued blush; intense kohl-lined eyes, a dark storm gray surrounded by long, thick lashes and accentuated by artfully applied shadows; full, lush lips painted to match her nails and parted just enough to show brilliantly white, even teeth. Her hair, dark, shiny auburn, was drawn back from her face in a complicated weave, the rest hanging down her back in long curls. She would be tall even without the five inch spiked heels she seemed so comfortable in, with curves in abundance to compliment her long legs and toned figure, of which there was plenty to see considering the scant amount of suede covering it.

She was perfect, Tifa thought. And then the woman spared her a glance, and the façade was shattered. Her eyes told an entirely different story from her outward appearance. It was all a mask, carefully designed to hide a jaded soul, and Tifa stepped back from her even as she insinuated herself into Tifa’s spot.

“Would you mind too much if I steal him away for a spin?” She directed the question over her shoulder to Tifa. As if she needed permission. As if Tifa could find a reason not to acquiesce.

“Oh, Professor,” the woman purred, “you’re not looking for a replacement for me, are you?” She smoothed his tie as she raised her eyes to meet his with coy seductiveness. “I would so miss the games we play together, Darling.” Her hands were tracing across his body, her nails raking through the fabric of his shirt, eliciting a hiss in response, and, as if her actions were a switch being flicked, Professor Hojo was that quickly ensnared by the act.

“Felicia.” The name rolled off his tongue with a drunken slur, though Tifa was pretty sure he hadn’t had nearly that much to drink. “How I’ve missed you. Mr. Shinra told me you were unable to attend today.”

“Hmm. Plans change, Darling. I thought you might…need me.”

He sagged in her arms as if just the thought were too much for him to contemplate, and she swept him into a slow sway that vaguely resembled a dance, her hands roaming his body as she did so, scratching, pinching, groping.

“Your presence is no longer required here today.” Tifa swung around at the words, spoken so close to her ear. Tseng was waving a hand to some unseen person as he continued. “Reno will escort you home.”

Confused, unbalanced by things moving too quickly, Tifa shook her head, her brow scrunching.

“I don’t need an escort.”

“That is not an option, Ms. Lockhart. Reno, Ms. Lockhart is ready to leave.”

An uneasy wave of apprehension ran through her body as she recognized the Turk that materialized from the crowd, weaving through the throng with an easy, predatory grace.

“If you’re ready, we’re out of here, yo.” Somehow, his tone matched his physical demeanor. He sounded…amused? Bored?

“But I don’t need an escort,” Tifa persisted.

Tseng was already walking away. Reno was the only one left for her to plead her case with.

“Really, Reno,” she was grateful she had a name for the red-headed Turk, “I am perfectly capable of getting home on my own.”

She was weaving a path through the crowd, determined to establish her independence, and uncaring whether or not he was still listening. Finally stepping out onto the street, she frowned to find the Turk still at her shoulder.

“I told you…”

“Yeah, I heard you, yo.” He raised a pack of cigarettes to his mouth, wrapping his lips around one he had shaken loose, pulling the cigarette from the pack and taking the time to light it, slipping the lighter back in the outer wrapping of the pack and returning it to an inner shirt pocket.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing.” He shrugged, inhaling deeply and letting the stream of smoke out slowly. “Tseng says take you home, I’m taking you home.”

Tifa started down the street. Screw it. If the Turk wanted to follow her home, that was his waste of time. “Hey Lockhart.”

What could he possibly want? Tagging along behind her was one thing, but she did not have to entertain him with conversation, did she?

“What?” She turned, huffing impatiently, to find him standing beside a car parked along the street, holding the passenger side door open for her. How awkward would it be if she ignored him and simply turned and kept walking? To catch a train. Or bus. When she could ride home in luxury. Who was she kidding?

Relenting, rolling her eyes and her shoulders, she climbed into the car, trying to make herself as small as possible in the seat. Losing the cigarette somewhere along the way, Reno had stepped in on the driver’s side and started the car when curiosity got the best of Tifa.

“Are you even old enough to drive?”

He chuckled as he pulled out into traffic, more cautious than she would have given him credit for.

“I’m a Turk. No one’s gonna ask me for a license.”

As if that answered her question, but she settled back in her seat, figuring that was most likely the closest thing to an answer she was going to get. She surreptitiously studied his profile as he drove. His tall lean body slouched slightly, comfortably, in the leather seat, his left leg curled up against the door. He drove with his left hand as well, the right remaining constantly on the gear shift in the center console, despite the fact that it was automatic, making Tifa question whether he was more familiar with a standard as she watched his fingers tapping out a rhythm against the gear shift. His loose hair fell over his right shoulder, only slightly concealing his face, but at a closer look she could see a tattoo high on his cheekbone.

He turned to her then, and she knew she had been staring at him, studying him too intensely. His eyes met hers, sparkling knowingly, and a lewd grin played over his lips.

“See something you like?”

Damn. How to excuse such rude behavior, Tifa wasn’t sure, and she scrambled for some explanation.

“I was curious about the tattoos.”

He shrugged, his attention returning to the road.

“Take a closer look.”

That was it? And how did he figure she was supposed to do that when his hair was hanging over the tattoo closest to her? He wasn’t offering any solution, and she sat back, wanting to forget about the embarrassing moment. But now that she had mentioned it, she really was curious about the tattoos, and her hands were itching to reach out and brush the red veil of hair back so she could look closer. What would he do if she followed through with that temptation?

There was only one way to find out. And in the end, if he didn’t like it, he had no one to blame but himself; he had suggested it.

She slid over a bit in her seat, as close as she could get considering the center console, and turned her body towards him, raising her hand and moving ever so slowly, giving him plenty of time to see her intent and stop her.

He didn’t stop her, or even so much as flinch, as she pushed the strands of hair, like wisps of silk, back from his face. He didn’t help, though, and she had to lean closer to examine the marks, tattooed the same color as his hair. Not sure she was seeing what she thought, she raised her other hand to trace gentle fingers over the skin.

“It’s a scar.”

He nodded, as if that explained everything.

“Why the tattoo?”

“To make them stand out, yo. Scars don’t stay red forever.”

She dropped back into her seat then. Finding out they were scars hadn’t disturbed her, but that he wanted them to stand out elicited a strange feeling within her. Most people didn’t want their scars noticed. Go figure.

Had he cut the hair on the left side of his head for a similar reason? She wanted to ask, but didn’t dare.

He seemed fine with the silence that settled in the car after appeasing her curiosity, and while he wasn’t asking for directions, she didn’t offer any. Still, he drove unerringly through the streets in a very direct route, pulling up in front of her apartment building and parking in a ‘no parking’ zone. By the time Tifa got out of the car, he had circled around and was standing on the sidewalk waiting for her.

“Are you going to walk me to my door?” She asked, feeling rather silly about the extent to which his task was being taken.

“Orders are orders, yo.” He followed her as she entered the building, keeping pace with a lazy stride.

“So you do whatever Tseng tells you to do?” Neither of them looked old enough to be giving orders to anyone else.

“He’s the boss, yo.”

“And that makes you one of his go-to boys?” She asked snidely.

“That makes me his second in command.” If he noticed her tone, it didn’t seem to faze him. Tifa came to an abrupt halt, turning to stare at him and he returned her gaze, completely unaffected.

“I don’t understand. If you’re that high up in the ranks, why would you get a grunt assignment like seeing me home?”

“Because,” he offered up as he walked past her to lead her to her own door, “I’m the one who wanted to do it.”

She fussed with her keys as she tried to figure out what that meant, and finally managed to get the door open and step through, turning back to thank him only to find him following her into her apartment. She stood, holding the doorknob, waiting for him to realize he hadn’t been invited. He strolled through the entryway, taking a look around, peeking through doorways, and chose the one leading to the living room. Closing the door with an exasperated sigh, Tifa followed to find him sprawled out in her favorite chair, one leg propped over the arm, the foot tapping lightly in the air.

“You forgot to lock the door, yo.”

Stopping short, she stared down at him, trying to see past the white pinpricks of anger that were invading her vision. Staying her urge to follow his advice and take care of the locks, she planted one hand on her hip while waving the other annoyingly in the air.

“What? You couldn’t take care of practically anything that came through that door?”

“Sure I could. Don’t mean I will, yo.”

Oh, that was the breaking point. She wanted to bounce the punk out on his ear.

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Tseng said you were going to see old man Shinra. Said I should tag along.”

“Tag along?” She looked around the room, but couldn’t find anything to throw at him that she was willing to break. “For what?”

His eyes lit up in amusement as he met her gaze,

“To make sure you don’t do anything stupid, yo.” Which was true, but he wasn’t going to remind her that his first priority was to protect Mr. Shinra.

“I’ll manage just fine, thank you,” she asserted as she turned her back on him, leaving him alone in the room. Given his rudeness inviting himself in, she didn’t feel obligated to entertain him.

“Like you did with Hojo?”

She spun around mid-stride.

“All things considered, I did just fine.” And she believed that.

Reno rolled to his feet in an easy, efficient flex of lithe muscle.

“Sure you did, yo.” He approached her slowly. “Right up until he put his hands on you.” Sensory memory kicked in, giving Tifa an eerie, cautious feeling, and she recoiled when he put one hand on her shoulder. “And when you had to dance with him, damn Lockhart, I thought you were going to stroke on us.” He placed his other hand on her hip, drawing her close as if he were going to dance with her, so close that her cheek brushed against the shorter hair on that side of his head, the sensation strange against her skin.

“A touch here,” he caressed down her arm, “a grope there,” he slipped a hand around to her backside, giving it a quick squeeze, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. Pressing his head to hers, his lips skimmed her ear. “What would you have done when he decided to fuck you?”

This time he let her go when she drew back. Tifa teetered, thrown slightly off balance and gulping for air when she hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath.

“You…” The words died before they left her mouth, drying up on her tongue as her brain scrambled to catch up with what was going on. What had she been about to say? It escaped her, so she went with the next best thing. Denial.

“That would not have happened,” she declared emphatically.

Snorting, his head kicking back, a long thin hand running over the plains of his chest and stomach, Reno didn’t bother arguing with her. He wandered past her and stood at the door.

“So? You going to see Shinra, or what? I don’t got all day, yo.”

Over her head, that’s what she was, and she knew it, and as badly as her day had gone, she still felt like she was about to step from the frying pan into the fire.

Training - A reno-centric drabble

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 22:16:45 GMT

Title: Training
Rating: T for now
Word Count: 284
Summary: Follows http://f-mystic.livejournal.com/41333.html#cutid1 but is not a direct continuation. This drabble: Reno is observed during training by his superiors
Warnings: Not this chapter
Status: Apparently a WIP, although each drabble is complete on its own. Eventually may include more mature content, including violence, possible yaoi, and rating will change accordingly.

It's all under the LJ CUT:

It looks like this is becoming a series of 'snapshot' drabbles. No direct continuation from one to the other, just little peeks here and there. For r&r, thank you.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Training

“He’s very young.”

Tseng glanced over his shoulder, mildly surprised the President was making an appearance to observe Turk training, one of the more mundane operations within Shinra, to which the president seldom gave his direct attention.

“Physically, yes,” Tseng responded, turning back to watch his newest Turk. “But his experience and survival instincts are an entirely different matter.”

Reno had yet to win. How could he when Tseng made sure the odds were stacked against him? When his opponents weren’t exactly fighting fair? Long hair, loosely held at the nape of his neck, flicked over one shoulder as Reno studied his opponents. Calculating. Yes, he was a cunning one.

“I’ve also heard he is difficult to handle. Doesn’t take orders very well.”

Strategy determined, there was a flurry of movement on the training ground, and the dust settled around nothing but fallen Turks, but not one with red hair.

Indeed, Reno was nowhere to be seen.

Devious and wickedly, dangerously fast.

“He’ll learn,” Tseng responded, knowing the irony would be lost on the President.

The President surveyed the damage done before him, sure there were broken bones involved.

“Seems he has some work to do.”

Tseng followed his line of thought, knowing that he couldn’t risk more injuries to his Turks in simple training exercises.

“Careful, Sir. We don’t want to break him. All that raw instinct will be an enormous asset for the Turks. For Shinra.”

Reno reappeared then, dragging another unconscious Turk across the ground by his tie, casting a very self-satisfied, triumphant expression at Tseng, a streak of blood as a badge of honor across his cheek.

Yes, it was time to move these training sessions to the simulation chamber.

Treachery and Devotion - Chapter 10 - Issuing Orders, Asking Favors - Reno/OC WIP

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 22:18:01 GMT

I had fun with this chapter, although everything is coming so slowly at this point it's ridiculous. But at least I'm not STUCK! I find I like writing Rufus as a bastard (in this anyway). Thanks to rageofloki for proofing.

It's all below the LJ CUT:

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Issuing Orders, Asking Favors

Nobody stood in Reno’s way as he made his way through the halls of Shinra. Anybody with two eyes and half a wit of self-preservation could see that he was in a dangerous frame of mind, and the lazy, indifference he often projected was nowhere to be seen.

He was, however, stopped short in his personal mission just as he was about to achieve his destination.

“Reno.” The name echoed down the hall, and Reno turned to the forceful summons to find none other than Rufus Shinra waiting expectantly down the hall.

“My office. Now.”

Sighing deeply, Reno glanced briefly to the door he had been about to knock on before following Rufus’ order. Not that he was in any mood to deal with Rufus, who was being exceptionally moody lately, but he didn’t see as he had much choice.

He let the door of Rufus’ office close behind him with a loud thud, not slamming it, but not much caring about it, either, and edged his way closer to Rufus’ desk, not taking a seat in the leather chair opposite where Rufus had taken his seat. He didn’t plan on staying long enough to get comfortable.

“I have an assignment for you, Reno,” Rufus stated without preamble.

The wariness set in before Rufus had finished the sentence. Rufus just didn’t give assignments to the Turks. He always channeled everything through Tseng. What the hell? In the suspicious corner of his mind, Reno wondered if Tseng even knew about this assignment of Rufus’. In the meantime, he saw little choice but to hear Rufus out.

“What you need, Boss?”

“Shinra is hosting a charity auction this weekend. It’s part of our new corporate image. Many of Shinra’s employees are attending the event, and I need you to be there.”

“You need me for security?” Reno knew about the auction. He was pretty sure Bryn had mentioned it, that she might even be attending it, as some of the companies she worked with were involved. In all likelihood, she would ask him to attend with her, but she would also understand if Rufus needed him for security.

“Not as security, no.”

“Then what you need, Boss?”

“You are to attend as Dara’s escort.”

What the fuck? Had he just heard that right? What kind of assignment was that? And…why?

And that’s exactly what he wanted to know from Rufus.

“What the…”

“This is not up for debate, Reno. You’ve been given your orders. See yourself out.”

If the words weren’t clear enough, the chill tone of Rufus’ voice certainly was. Reno snapped his mouth shut and retreated the way he had come; even he could tell arguing with Rufus would get him nowhere. Maybe Tseng would know what was going on.

“Oh, and Reno?” He turned back to what sounded like an afterthought on Rufus’ part, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“It would be in your best interest to treat this as a real date. I don’t want to hear that Dara was disappointed in your companionship.”

As he finished issuing his final directive to Reno, he picked up the phone and dialed, turning away, leaving Reno with nothing but the high back of his chair to stare at in disbelief.

Bryn stood outside Elena’s door fidgeting and debating. She wanted to find out, after all of Elena’s nervousness, how her first date with Tseng had turned out, but she also needed a favor, and she still wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea or not to ask. She simply didn’t know Elena well enough to anticipate what her reaction might be, but there didn’t seem to be many others she could ask this of given her situation. Finally, she raised her hand to knock, figuring she could feel it out as she talked to Elena about her date.

Her knock was immediately answered by a vague “just a minute”, but it seemed much longer before the door finally opened.

“Oh, hi Bryn. Come on in.”

If her cheery disposition and brilliant smile were any indication, things must have gone very well.

“So? How did it go?” Bryn asked as she stepped into the apartment. It felt so odd, to be talking to Elena like this when there was no established friendship, but she almost felt compelled to find out after Elena had asked her for advice.

Elena turned to her as she closed the door with a dreamy expression on her face.

“It was incredible.” She waved Bryn into the kitchen, pulling a chair for her much like she had done at their previous meeting, and sat down next to her, leaning over to talk conspiratorially.

“First, I have to thank you. The outfit you suggested was perfect! Even though I debated changing right up to the very last second.” Bryn realized she was smiling goofily at Elena, who was gushing as if they had been best friends forever, a clear sign of the euphoria she was still afflicted with. Elena recounted their dinner, how nervous she was, and how understanding Tseng was.

“And he was such a gentleman!”

“Well we already knew that, didn’t we?” Bryn asked. She didn’t know much about Tseng at all, but it was one of the few things she could comment on with confidence.

“Well, of course, but he let me pick the movie we watched. He even asked me if he could put his arm around my shoulder, no cheap date theatrics or slick moves. And then, and this was the only embarrassing part, I fell asleep leaning against him.” Her cheeks turned bright red to reflect her sentiments.

“Why are you embarrassed? It sounds very romantic.”

“But he might think I was bored. I didn’t mean to, but I was warm and comfortable, and wine always makes me a bit drowsy.” She dropped her head, clearly troubled by what may have been the one dark cloud in her evening.

“Did he say anything to you to make you think that’s how he felt?”

“He said I was adorable when I slept and kissed my hand.”

“Then he didn’t think you were bored, Elena. Did he ask you out again?”

“No.” She sighed heavily.

“Give it time.” Bryn had a good feeling about this. “In fact, I bet you’ll hear from him before the day is out.”

Elena perked up.

“You really think so?”

Bryn nodded, smiling encouragingly.

“I’m almost positive.”

Responding with a hopeful smile herself, Elena brightened.

“I hope so. And thank you. I really don’t have many people around here to talk to about this.” This was a far cry from the Elena she had first met. Thank Gaia!

“Any time.” She took a deep breath, clearing her throat. It was now or never.

“Elena, I was wondering if you would do me a favor.”

Confusion lit in Elena’s eyes, but she nodded.

“If I can. Sure. What do you need?”

“I want you to teach me how to use a gun.”

“What the FUCK?”

Tseng startled. He wasn’t often caught off guard, especially in his own office, but Reno slamming through the oak door in a fit of rage certainly did the trick.

Worse than that, Tseng had no idea why the Turk so angry, his face nearly as red as his hair and his fists clenched. If it were so important that it would stir such a reaction, Tseng should know about it, unless it was a personal matter, but Tseng didn’t think so. Reno had never brought a personal matter to Tseng in such a manner.

Taking no chances, Tseng didn’t let his body relax until he saw clearly that Reno didn’t have a weapon in hand. Well thank Gaia for that; at least the Turk hadn’t completely lost his mind.

“I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Reno. What seems to be the trouble?”

The expression on Reno’s face was priceless, a combination of annoyance, shock, confusion, disbelief and rage. Obviously he had expected Tseng to know what he had burst in to discuss.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Not anything that would have you entering my office like that, no. Care to fill me in?”

Reno flustered for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to say, or where to start. Or perhaps he was having a difficult time understanding how an order had come down without Tseng knowing about it.

“Rufus hasn’t talked to you? He didn’t tell you?”

Tseng spread his hands out in surrender. He wasn’t going to bother offering Reno a seat. He knew it would be refused.

“Haven’t heard a thing.”

“He wants me to take Dara to that charity auction.” Could he possibly need to say more? His distaste was not only well known, but couldn’t have been clearer if it were printed across his face in permanent ink.

Tseng took his seat slowly, mulling this enlightening bit of news. It was certainly an interesting turn of events, on many levels. Rufus knew Reno was involved with someone. Was he trying to create tension? Tseng knew Rufus didn’t particularly like Bryn, or rather the idea of Bryn, the steady girlfriend with the potential to distract his Turks and give them something to look forward to outside of the walls of Shinra. Still, Tseng would have thought such tactics beneath Rufus. Then there was Dara. Aggression and forwardness were two traits she seemed to have in spades. So why hadn’t she asked Reno herself? And why would Rufus, who, if what he had witnessed in the elevator the night before was any proof, seemed to be having some type of relationship with Dara, ask Reno to take her to this event? Nothing added up.

Reno was pacing, pacing, pacing, and exuding a nervous energy that did nothing to help Tseng think.

“I don’t know why he’d as you to do that, but I’m sure it’s just a favor, Reno.”

“Favor, my ass. It was an order. That’s the word he used, along with the threat to make sure I rise to the occasion.”

Tseng wasn’t sure if Reno meant that literally or figuratively, or if Reno had even meant the double entendre and he wasn’t going to ask. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to talk to Rufus about this and try to find out what was going on.

“I’m sorry, Reno. Rufus hasn’t spoken to me about this, so I can’t even hazard a guess as to what he’s thinking.”

“But you’re going to find out, aren’t you?”

Tseng kept the worry he was feeling from showing on his face. This was not the first incident recently that indicated Rufus was not being entirely forthcoming with information. It wasn’t serious yet, but the signs were beginning to worry Tseng.

“I’m going to try, but in the meantime, an order is an order. You know how that works.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He sank down into the chair opposite Tseng, letting his long body slouch into the contours of the leather as he leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair, his hand covering his face. “That’s not even what I came here to talk to you about.”

“Even more good news?”

Reno glanced up at him then, his lip quirking a bit, a good sign at least that he hadn’t lost his sense of sarcasm.

“You give me a monster to kill and a few explosives to detonate and I’ll bring you some good news.” He leaned forward a bit in his chair, not wanting to miss Tseng’s reaction to this.

“We’ve got someone impersonating a Turk.”

The roles reversed, and now Tseng was the confused, disbelieving one.

“Who?”

“Don’t know.” Reno shrugged. “But that’s not the worst part.”

“Like that’s not bad enough?”

“Not as bad as them getting into this building, past security, to do it.”

Tseng was already reaching for the phone.

First Encounter - A Reno-centric flash - complete for now

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 02:54:14 GMT

Title: First Encounter
Rating: T for now
Word Count: 388
Summary: A flash of Tseng's first encounter with Reno.
Warnings: Language
Status: Complete as is, but I may add on with other Reno-centric scenes (not necessarily a continuation). If so, may include more mature content, including possible yaoi, and rating will change accordingly.

It's all under the LJ CUT:

Too long to be a drabble, but still very short. I may add more related Reno-centric flashes in the future, in which case the rating may change and there exists the possibility for explicit material, including yaoi, but for now I'm calling it complete. No pairing is intended here.

I neither own nor profit from ffvii or its characters.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

First Encounter

Tseng watched him carefully, but confidently. He was young, possibly younger than the rumors had led him to believe, but not too young. No, he had given his Turks a run for their money, and now he was like a cornered animal, staring back at him with fierce blue eyes that radiated hostility.

Tseng relaxed, letting the tension run out of his body. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight to the death.

“What the fuck, yo?”

“I am Tseng, of the Turks. And you are Reno, if I am not mistaken.”

“Turks, yo.” He spat on the ground between them. Tseng didn’t look. It didn’t matter if it hit his shoe; he would forgive it. “I fuckin’ knew that. Everybody knows the Turks. What the fuck you want with me, yo?”

“I have heard about you and I am here to recruit you. I want you to join us.”

“So why the fuck’re they here?” He nodded over Tseng’s shoulder at the two men that had raced him down, never so much as flicking his eyes from the man he knew was the most dangerous of the three.

Back-up. That’s why they were there. But that was a word Tseng carefully avoided.

“They,” he took his eyes from the red-head, giving him a trust he hadn’t earned yet, “are here at the moment as my security.” He turned back to meet blue eyes. “You’ve heard about us, know about us, so you know what we do. What you may not know is that we work as a family, helping, supporting each other in whatever way we have to. That means different things at different times, but today they are here simply to assure my safety. Do you know how that works, Reno? Do you know what it’s like to be part of something like that?”

“I don’t got no family, yo. Never did.”

“You will now.” Tseng extended his hand. Even this wild, impetuous creature would know what that meant.

“All you have to do is choose it.”

Reno warily studied Tseng’s face as well as the two men behind him, contemplating what he knew, what he had heard, what he was hearing now.

Tseng’s hand never wavered.

Reno’s was just as steady when he met that hand with his own.

Consorting With the Enemy - Chapter 2 - A Reno/Tifa fanfic - WIP

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 06:08:26 GMT

Title: Consorting with the Enemy
Fandom: ffvii, AU
Pairings: Reno/Tifa for now. More will be added.
Rating: M
Warnings: Not right now, but knowing me, there exists a high possibility for mature/adult content, erotic content, possible violence, and general strangeness.

A/N from http://f-mystic.livejournal.com/35702.html#cutid1 still applies.

This is as far as the initial idea went, although ideas are starting to form for future chapters. Thanks again to rageofloki for proofing.

“You’re hired.”

Tifa hadn’t necessarily believed Mrs. Shinra’s parting words. Elena didn’t believe it either when she heard. They had talked about it the night before, and decided it wasn’t in their luck to get hired by Shinra, which was said to pay very well. Aside from Tifa having had enough of waitressing and serving drinks, Elena hated her job, keeping it only because they were desperate and there wasn’t much else out there, and though they worked as a team on some freelance jobs, they weren’t able to handle anything big enough to actually cover the bills they shared. A job with Shinra would be considered a dream come true for both of them, but by the time Tifa went to bed, she had chalked the offer up to nothing more than and empty gesture following a grand adventure.

Tifa thought she was dreaming, which is why the pounding went on for so long. After all, she had found out that Elena had never said anything to her about an important task the day before. Tifa had dreamed that, so she wasn’t going to trust anything she heard while she was more than half asleep. If it was real, if someone was pounding on their door, Elena could get it.

When the noise persisted, Tifa glanced at the clock and realized that Elena wouldn’t be answering the door; Elena had left for work over an hour ago. Stumbling out of the bed, hoping this wasn’t a waking dream, Tifa dragged herself across the apartment, pushing the stray strands of hair out of her face as she went and checking the shorts and t-shirt she slept in to make sure she was at least half-way decent.

She opened the door to a fist that was again set to pound on the wood.

She didn’t know the man at the door, but, in general, she knew who he was: A Turk. If his suit and demeanor didn’t give him away, the clear view of the gun he was wearing did. Short, dark hair hung straight around his head, stark against pale skin, the bangs too long on one side, obscuring the view of one dark eye. He stared at her blankly, as if he hadn’t been pounding on the door for the past ten minutes, looking about as bored as was humanly possible.

“Mr. Shinra has requested your presence.”

Tifa was gaping, and had to think about it to make her jaw snap closed. He watched her patiently, expectantly, and she wondered if he thought she was going to go with him in as she was dressed, in the clothes she slept in.

Oh wait. Was that what she was supposed to do? That would be ridiculous, and she didn’t think so, but better safe to ask.

“Do I have a few minutes to get showered and dressed?”

He blinked, but gave nothing away in his expression.

“Mr. Shinra doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Then maybe Mr. Shinra should have given me notice that I was on call.” She opened the door wider and gestured the Turk into the apartment, leading him to the kitchen and pulling out a chair for him.

“There’s coffee in the machine. Tea’s in the cabinet there. Sugar is on the counter. Give me fifteen minutes.”

She raced through her morning routine, every moment conscious of the fact that a strange man was in the apartment with her, a man she knew was dangerous. She hoped the fact that Mr. Shinra wanted to see her would keep her safe from his Turks.

Eight minutes saw her in and out of the shower. It would have been much shorter if not for the length of her hair, which she swore every time she was in a hurry she was going to cut. Towel drying the excess water out of it, she combed it out quickly and pulled it up into a ponytail. That was as good as it was going to get without time to dry it. She threw on a long black skirt that tapered at mid-calf and a red blouse that was a perfect combination of business and femininity. It was an outfit she had purchased for the few nights she had to work the front desk at the restaurant. Ditching the stockings, she pulled on a pair of heels that she hoped she wouldn’t regret later. She didn’t know what Mr. Shinra was expecting, but she was going to appear before him in as professional a manner as possible with fifteen minutes to make it happen.

Fourteen minutes after opening the door, she re-entered her kitchen to find the Turk standing exactly where she had left him, watching the door, waiting for her return. Had he even twitched while she was out of sight?

Whatever he saw when she rounded the corner got a reaction from him when there had been none before. He scanned her from head to toe and back again with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Tifa ignored him, walking straight past to the door, yanking it open and gesturing him through ahead of her.

“I thought Mr. Shinra didn’t like to be kept waiting.”

What was this place? The Turk, who had swaggered out the door ahead of her, clearly amused by her attitude, now held another door open for her. The room beyond was full of people, and Tifa wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. A bar? No, not really. Perhaps a club? There were people milling about, everyone with a drink in their hand, it seemed, dressed to the nines. There was a counter on the left wall, which he bypassed completely, plush carpeting on the floor, and a few potted plants around the edges of the room.

It smelled like money.

There were other Turks in the crowd, on the outskirts, all seeming far too casual and far too dangerous at the same time. Some clearly looked the part of bodyguard, silent sentinels dispersed within the crowd, while others milled about as if they were there to enjoy the party. Or whatever this was. She noted the familiar faces she had seen in her previous encounter, a tall, thin man with dark wavy hair, sun glasses perched on his nose, but not covering his startling blue eyes, an arrogant sneer across his face; a girl, long, light auburn hair falling pin straight around an intensely serious face; and one whose face she couldn’t see, but recognized none-the-less by the waist-length red hair, and who was talking to a young girl who seemed to be the source of some momentary pleasure. On his way across the room, a man walked by close behind him, drawing his attention, and in an oh-so-natural and casual gesture, the red-haired Turk turned, tracking the passer-by. Within an instant, his expression went from flirtatiously playful to scoping a possible target.

Then, as quickly, his gaze flicked to Tifa. It was fleeting, nothing more than an acknowledgement, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression, and his lip quirked up on one side as he nodded to her. The second passed, the Turk blending back into the crowd, and Tifa was left to catch up with her escort.

Tifa followed through the crowd, across the room to a large doorway which Tifa could see led to another room, slightly larger. On high alert, Tifa’s nerves slowly frazzled as people brushed up against her on every side. It felt almost as if they were doing it on purpose.

As she passed, she caught snippets of conversations here and there. “I heard he’s completely mad.” That from an older woman making a lousy attempt to talk under her breath to her companion, another older woman who was wearing a hat that could have done with a few less feathers and a slightly less garish color. “I can’t believe they let him out of his cage.” Tifa turned to find a new speaker, a Turk muttering to her partner, who responded “yeah, and lucky us; we get to baby-sit him.” There was no indication who they were talking about, but Tifa figured it was only a matter of time before she found out.

Tseng emerged from the other room as they approached the door, exactly, picture-perfect, the way Tifa remembered him. Right down to the last straight, dark wisp of hair in its place. Her Turk escort nodded at Tseng.

“Am I done here?”

“Not quite. I would like you to stay with Ms. Lockhart. Mr. Shinra wants to make sure she is well taken care of.”

“Yes sir.” He didn’t look or sound happy about it, but if Tifa got anything from the exchange, it was that Turks followed orders, and it was clear that Tseng was somewhere up on the chain of command.

Tseng nodded his approval, eyeing the man critically before turning his attention back to Tifa.

“Mr. Shinra has asked that you provide company to a gentleman who is among Shinra’s most important personnel.” Tifa noted what she thought to be a flicker of distaste cross the Turks face as he spoke of this illustrious employee, even through the straight, unemotional façade.

“Ah, there you are Tseng.” Turning to see who was behind the voice, she knew this was the man Tseng had been speaking of. Except for a couple of girls hanging on the man, girls Tifa was sure were of questionable repute based on their apparel and behavior, the rest of the crowd gave him a wide berth despite his expensively tailored suit.

He wasn’t a horrible looking man; middle aged with graying hair, neatly manicured, impeccably dressed in his dark gray suit, and relatively fit. His presence, however, sent a chill of warning down her spine, setting off an internal alarm that blared danger and mistrust at her.

“Professor Hojo. I’d like you to meet Tifa Lockhart, the young lady Mr. Shinra mentioned earlier.”

The professor extended his hand and Tifa, out of sheer politeness, returned the gesture despite her discomfort with his leer, and when he raised her hand to his lips, it was all she could do not to wrench her arm back from his possession. His lips lingered far past what might be considered genteel, and Tifa wondered if his lack of manners would make it acceptable for her to wipe her hand off on a napkin, if she could find one. The girl hanging on the man’s shoulder lowered her eyelids, giving Tifa a once over, and when she met Tifa’s eyes, it was with an expression that almost guaranteed she had been thinking wickedly lascivious thoughts.

A slight tremor whispered through her frame.

What have I gotten myself into?

Claiming her hand back, she turned to Tseng.

“Excuse me, but I need to speak with you. This is not what I…”

“Such a timid little thing,” Professor Hojo interrupted. “You know how I like them innocent.” He had stepped closer. “Perhaps,” he whispered, lifting one hand to trace a finger down her cheek, “you aren’t aware of how this works. You do work for Mr. Shinra, do you not?” He didn’t give her time to answer before agreeing for her. “Yes, I thought so. And if you work for Mr. Shinra, you must meet his every expectation and demand, and his expectation this afternoon is that you spend your time with me.”

His hand circled her arm, just above the elbow, with a grip that sent a distinct message not to protest. Tseng stepped aside as the professor directed her into the next room, also large and spacious, but with a bar that ran the entire length of one wall and tables set about what Tifa guessed was supposed to be a dance floor.

“Actually, Professor, I believe I work for Mrs. Shinra.”

He huffed as he took a seat at a table, snapping his fingers in the air.

“As if that really matters. What belongs to Mrs. Shinra belongs to Mr. Shinra.”

A waiter appeared, tray in hand, one drink centered on it, and set it down at the Professors gestured demand.

“Bring one for the lady as well.”

That last registered with Tifa, and she shook her head, waving a hand at the waiter.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are.” Keeping that insistent pressure on her arm, Hojo made a nearly successful attempt to pull her to sit on his knee. At Tifa’s resistance, his demeanor changed, darkening, his words becoming harsh and clipped.

“Tseng,” he ordered. “Perhaps you should explain to Ms. Lockhart how this is supposed to work.”

Extending a hand, Tseng extracted Tifa’s arm from Hojo’s grip and led her a few feet away.

“You are causing quite a scene. You need to follow orders.” It amazed Tifa that someone as young as Tseng displayed such authority.

“Orders? What orders? I’m not one of you.”

“You work for Mr. Shinra now. That makes you one of us.”

“If that’s the case, maybe one of your Turks would like to sit on his lap.”

“They would if they were ordered to.” Either he hadn’t caught on to the ludicrous nature of her comment, or he was ignoring it. The man had one hell of a poker face.

“That may be the arrangement you and your cronies have with Mr. Shinra, but I don’t remember him contracting me to act the part of some…trollop.”

Tseng stepped closer. One small, simple step and the threat became imminent. In her revulsion of her current situation, Tifa had, for one insane moment, forgotten how dangerous the Turks could be.

Lowering his voice to a bare whisper, Tseng gave his last piece of advice.

“I suggest then, Ms. Lockhart, that when you have a free moment, you discuss your arrangement with Mr. Shinra. In the meantime, it would be in your best interests to perform as expected.”

He stepped back, as collected as he had been, awaiting her decision.

Tifa could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. Gaia, they were serious about this. What choices she had weren’t clear, but she had a feeling that simply walking out of the room was not an option. Drawing a deep breath to steady herself, she nodded once.

“I’ll do that.” Circling around Tseng, she returned to the Professor and, before she could lose her resolve, perched delicately on the end of his knee.

“There. Now isn’t that better?” Hojo questioned mockingly. Tifa felt her entire being shrink away as Hojo placed a hand high up on her thigh.

“Still gun-shy, I see.” She could feel him staring at her, studying her. Thinking depraved thoughts about her. “He really does know how to pick the young innocent ones, doesn’t he girls?” His two companions, who were still hanging all over him, cooed their agreement, turning their attention on her, one even reaching out a hand to brush her hair back over her shoulder.

“But she’s pretty, Professor. There may be potential.”

Potential for what? The thought ran through Tifa’s mind like a bullet.

“We shall see,” he murmured, apparently thinking over the prospects. “Yes, we shall definitely see.”

Could this possibly get any worse?

Tifa was immediately sorry for that last thought; before it was even complete, the situation crashed full-bore into worse.

“Let’s start now,” Hojo decided his course of action. “Ms. Lockhart, if you would so kindly join me on the dance floor.”

As if she had a choice.

Distraction - Chapter 24 - Approaching an Understanding - WK WIP

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 05:06:57 GMT

To elaborate on the author's note under the cut: About 3/4 of the way through this chapter, I started to worry that what I thought was important might not be so important (the scene where Aya walks in on Omi and Ken). However, this is how it flowed, so I let it go. Then I hit a block because I wasn't entirely sure I was achieving the emotions I wanted to correctly. My PR said "just right it however it comes to you, then tell me what you want, and we'll tweak it later if we have to." Good advice. It worked. I think. Point being, I didn't want Aya's concern to come across as his concern about being comfortable in a relationship with another man, but rather it being about his discomfort with ANY kind of relationship. And him being comfortable with accepting that affection when others are present. Did it work? *shrugs*

As if that weren't enough, my self-doubt crept in yet again as I started to wonder if anyone really wanted to read the scene here with Omi and Ken, even though I didn't go into too much detail with them, and it is central to the plot-line. What say Aya/Yohji fans? Mind a tiny bit of Omi/Ken thrown in?

My PR read it for all the concerns I had, and answered about 12 gazillion questions I had.

I think he thinks I worry too much.

I think I might agree with him. But that doesn't mean I can help it.

Thanks to rageofloki for tolerating my yaoi obsession and proofing for me.

It's all under the LJ CUT:

About 3/4 of the way through this chapter I hit a block and started to have my doubts as to whether I was achieving what I had set out to. I believe it was a question of consistency. He read with that specifically in mind, and answered all the questions I had concerning the consistency, emotions (was I getting across the point I was trying to?), and flow. However, if anything glares out at you, let me know.

For reading and reviewing, thank you much.

Enjoy.

fire mystic

Approaching an Understanding

Breaking away from Aya was the last thing Yohji wanted to do, but a flash of movement in the doorway brought Yohji quickly back to reality. He was careful not to draw Aya’s attention as he glanced over his shoulder to find Omi gesturing softly and backing slowly away and out of sight. What surprised Yohji most was that, while Aya seemed completely unaware of Omi’s presence, he reacted to the tension change in Yohji’s body, pulling away.

“I’m not…I mean, this is…”

He wasn’t looking at Yohji; the last thing Yohji wanted was for him to crawl back into the shell he was so delicately breaking out of. He raised a hand, cradling Aya’s face, drawing him back, nuzzling against the side of his face briefly and placing a single kiss high on his cheek, near his ear.

“Perfect, Aya. But we need to get back to work before someone comes looking for us.” If Aya didn’t know Omi had already tried, he was so not mentioning it.

He stood, extending a hand for Aya, and was thrilled when Aya took it, and even more pleased when Aya let him keep hold of it till they were nearly to the shop, where Yohji gave it one firm squeeze before letting go.

Now, a half hour later, everyone trying to act like everything was perfectly normal, things were anything but.

It was odd, Yohji thought. Omi and Ken hadn’t been overt about their relationship, but now it was painful to watch as the two went out of their way to avoid each other entirely. Equally painful, as well as amusing, was Aya, who blushed deeply every time he had to interact with Omi or Ken, but would then glance at Yohji, his expression a combination of desire mixed with uncertainty for a most endearing effect. As the afternoon crowd thinned out and they were getting ready to close the shop, Yohji made a point of acknowledging those furtive glances, a smile here, a wink there when he could get away with it, wanting to make sure Aya knew his attention didn’t go unnoticed or that it was unappreciated.

As Omi went to retrieve the last of the plants from outside as they closed, Yohji followed him out.

“Thanks, Omi.” He didn’t explain what before he was talking about. Omi wasn’t stupid, as was evident in his actions in avoiding Aya’s detection.

Omi turned to face him, eyes wide and dark with concern.

“This is really hard for him, isn’t it?”

Yohji took time to light a cigarette, nodding.

“Yeah. Look, he told me about this morning, Omi…”

Omi’s cheeks flushed red.

“Yeah, sorry about…”

“No. Don’t be. And don’t start acting all weird because you think it will freak Aya out.”

Omi’s skepticism was apparent.

“I don’t know, Yohji. You should have seen his reaction, heard what he said.”

Yohji shook his head, crushing out the cigarette on the ground and pitching it into the garbage can.

“This isn’t about you and Ken, Omi. It’s about him. You saw him with me; trust me, he doesn’t understand it yet, but he’s not offended or upset about what he walked in on. He’s upset that he isn’t comfortable with it for himself. But he’s trying. Give him time.”

Omi stopped short, lowering the leafy potted plant he was moving so he could see Yohji clearly. It was in rare moments like these, when Yohji chose to share his observations and insights, which reminded Omi that despite Yohji’s apparent uncaring demeanor at times, he had a gift for understanding matters of the heart. It embarrassed him that these moments surprised him every time.

“You don’t think it would be better for us to keep things low-key?”

“Did he tell you to?”

“Well, no, but the expression on his face…”

“If he didn’t say it, then don’t assume it.” He raised his eyebrow, grinning. “Of course, I’m not sure I’d recommend having sex on the kitchen counter in the next few days, either.”

Cheeks turning bright cherry red, Omi shoved the plant he was carrying into Yohji’s arms.

“We were NOT having sex!” Flustered, he nearly tripped on his way back into the shop, leaving Yohji to finish with securing the rest of the plants.

Omi had barely cleared the door when Ken pushed him up against the unforgiving wood with a violent thump, claiming his lips in a brutal kiss, eliciting a surprised squeak from the smaller man. Clutching him, dragging clothes from his body, Ken wheeled them around, maneuvering them to the bed, and unceremoniously falling with him in a heap of tangled limbs.

Omi giggled breathlessly, pulling at Ken’s T-shirt.

“A little eager, eh, Ken?”

Ken attacked his neck with lips and tongue, murmuring against Omi’s skin.

“I haven’t been able to touch you all day. I was afraid to even look at you.” He pulled back enough to make eye contact. “It wasn’t exactly comfortable. Aya was really weirded out, huh?”

Pushing Ken’s bangs from his eyes only to have them flop back down, Omi tried for the best explanation he could.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s about us. At least that’s what Yohji says, and I agree with him. He says we shouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“So I don’t need to avoid you outside of our rooms?”

“You better not!” Wrapping a hand behind Ken’s neck, he pulled him closer until he could whisper against his lips. “But maybe we should be considerate and not lay it on too thick when Aya’s around.”

Ken’s laughter was throaty as his eyes lit up, and pushing himself to stand, he tangled his fingers in the loose fabric around Omi’s hips, yanking the loose shorts down without bothering to unbutton or unzip them and pulling the sneakers from his feet. Squealing at the sudden attack, Omi squirmed back further on the bed, watching as Ken pulled his own shirt over his head, flinging it to the floor, and then hastily unfastened his jeans, pushing them from his hips.

“I guess I can do that,” Ken agreed as he leaned over Omi, bracing his weight on his arms as he let their erections slide together, “as long as I can lay it on thick in here.”

After that, all thoughts of Aya and his discomfort were gone, any coherent thought and conversation lost to action and sounds far more intimate and gratifying.

Yohji dangled his keys in his hands as he approached his door. His mind whirred with the events of the day, but two thoughts popped to the surface repeatedly. The first was that he needed a shower. That was a given. It didn’t matter if he was arranging flowers, making deliveries, or shamelessly flirting; he never failed to leave that shop without feeling the need to shower.

The other thought was about Aya, or more specifically if Aya would take advantage of the key he had given him. He didn’t want to push, but perhaps after his shower, he would see if Aya wanted some company.

Reaching the door, he inserted the key and turned. Only to find the door was already unlocked. Had he left it that way? Forgotten to lock it? It wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t even know why he bothered. Not that anyone wouldn’t try to break in, but Yohji felt kind of sorry for the poor soul who broke in to find they had entered a building inhabited by assassins. Yeah, that image certainly brought a chuckle.

Opening the door cautiously, he scanned the room and found his answer. No, he hadn’t forgotten to lock his door, and yes, Aya had made use of that key, now gazing out the window from where he sat on the bed.

“You like doing that, don’t you?” Yohji observed.

Aya shrugged, turning to watch Yohji remove his sunglasses, placing them on the dresser, and pull his shoes off, setting them just inside the closet door, before coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

“It’s a different view than I’m used to.”

“I was wondering if you would show up,” and before Aya could ask him if that was alright, Yohji added, “I’m glad you did.”

“I knocked first. I thought you would be here.”

“Yeah, that. Omi left me to clean up outside the shop by myself. You don’t need to worry about it; you don’t need to knock, and I don’t need to be here.”

“Why didn’t Omi help?”

Aya leaned back, reaching for a pillow, and Yohji had to conceal his pleasant surprise that Aya seemed so comfortable. Whatever conclusions Aya was coming to, Yohji was so far completely agreeable. Aya stretched out, pulling the pillow to rest his head on, the motion pulling his shirt up to expose a smooth, lean expanse of skin, one arm curled up and around the pillow for further support. It wasn’t so much a suggestive position, but it was open and vulnerable, and Yohji wondered if Aya was aware of the effect it had, how sensual it appeared. After all, Aya might not be a virgin, and in fact could be very aggressive, but Yohji wasn’t sure if Aya was aware of the subtler nuances of seduction.

There was one way to find out. And even if he wanted to resist, Yohji’s hand was already in motion, reaching out of its own volition to settle tentatively against silken flesh that contracted and quivered under his touch.

Yohji drew his gaze from where his hand rested to Aya’s face, and there was no doubt. Aya had no clue. He was holding his breath, watching Yohji’s hand carefully.

Flexing his fingers over that sensitive skin, Yohji gripped the lithe muscles briefly, gently, drawing a sharp inhalation on Aya’s part.

“I think I embarrassed him.” He left his hand as it was, but kept it still, willing it to be a comfortable rather than erotic. “You know, he’s worried about this morning. Ken probably is, too. They were acting strange all afternoon.”

Aya turned away, looking out the window again.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was just so…unexpected. And it…I was surprised by my own reaction.”

“Freaked you out, huh? Yeah, that image is kinda…”

“It excited me.”

Oh, no. Yohji had not heard that right. He stared at Aya long enough for the man to turn and meet his gaze, and was further shocked when Aya took his wrist and guided it lower, giving Yohji first-hand evidence of his reaction.

Would laughing be appropriate? Somehow, Yohji didn’t think so, but damn this was kind of funny.

Or maybe not.

“Aya…you’re not…attracted…”

Aya pushed his hand away, a face of utter disgust on his face, but Yohji was pretty sure it was playful.

“No! Not them.” He pressed his hand to his belly where Yohji’s had rested a few moments before. “It was just so…heated. So intimate. And comfortable. Like it was…natural. Like it was okay to feel that way.” His hand dropped away to rest at his side, gaze once again drifting. “I…want that.”

It was the second time he claimed what he wanted, both times filled with a soul-deep, bittersweet longing that created a raw ache within Yohji’s chest, but this time there was more to it, a different sort of pain that extended beyond Aya’s struggle to come to terms with letting someone in and letting himself feel, an admission of how uncomfortable this really was for him. But there was also a hint in there that some part of Aya wanted this to work, and not just behind closed doors, floundering in the guilt of enjoying an undeserved pleasure, and the hope in that hint created an ache of a different sort within Yohji.

He picked up that hand, holding it in his as if he were going to shake it, and gave it a squeeze, just sharp enough to draw Aya from his contemplation.

“You know, Ken and Omi aren’t idiots, Aya.”

“I never said that.”

“That’s not what I mean. Ken and Omi know there’s something between us, and that it isn’t just playing chess on a Saturday afternoon. My point is they’ll understand.”

Aya studied Yohji’s eyes, fiercely concentrating as if he were looking for some hidden meaning, some trap about to be sprung.

“Only when you’re ready, Aya,” Yohji added. He didn’t want Aya to think he expected them to be making out all over the house come morning. Not that the thought of having Aya pinned to any available surface in the house wasn’t appealing.

Aya took a second more in his scrutiny before nodding his agreement, his face relaxing into an easier expression.

“Hey, I need to take a shower.” Yohji declared, releasing Aya’s hand with a final caress of fingers to his palm. Standing, he pulled his shirt off as he walked towards the hamper and dropped it in. “You want to grab something to eat after? Go out; take in? Your choice.”

“We could do that.”

Damn, Yohji thought. An actual date.

“Be here when I get back?” His hand was on the door knob. Aya hadn’t moved from where he was, lounging on the bed, watching Yohji in his circuit around the room.

“I think so.”

Yohji’s smile was warm and satisfied, well worth Aya’s agreement, as he turned to leave.

“Kudoh?” Yohji turned back. Aya usually reserved use of his last name for when he was pissed, but it lacked that quality. No, it sounded almost…affectionate.

“Yeah?”

“Do you really play chess?”