rapacityinblue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rapacityinblue) wrote2012-01-01 05:17 pm
rapacityinblue) wrote2012-01-01 05:17 pm
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Title: Little Deaths
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (Through DoC)
Spoilers: None
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Vin/Reeve
Summary: Sometimes sex? Is not so sexy.
Warnings: Possible dubcon, rough sex and violence
Word Count: 493
Note: Written for30_wounds Prompt 26: Die By Your Hands.
Vincent closes his hand around Reeve's thigh, hard. There will be a bruise there in the morning that Reeve will have to deal with. One of their first rules was set after an embarrassing day spent trying to pull his cuffs lower down his wrist. He presses his chest closer to Vincent's before he can think about it now. He can't close his eyes, nor watch Vincent's face, so he hitches his legs higher up Vincent's hips to accommodate the length of Vincent's cock inside him and stares at the chest rocking above him, so different from his own -- smooth, unmarred by hair. Vincent's skin is cool and porcelain-pale and clashes against the red, pre-orgasmic flush rising beneath his own chest.
He can't close his eyes because it will leave him vulnerable and trust isn't part of this. He can't meet Vincent's eyes, because he knows he'll find them as blank and unaffected as his slight chest. So instead, he rolls his head to the side and watches Vincent's claw as it works its way deeper into his mattress, the only expression of passion Vincent will allow.
A sudden, arrhythmical thrust from Vincent forces a hiss of air between his teeth. Almost against his will, his eyes slide closed and he muses, not for the first time, on the awkwardness of sex without kissing.
He can tell from Vincent's speed that the other man is close now to climaxing. He quashes the sudden impulse to steal a glimpse at Vincent's face, knowing he'll find it as impassive as ever. Squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his legs tighter around the other man to delay the inevitable.
Vincent's claw flexes and he can feel the fabric stretching under his cheek. Reeve knows the unspoken rule that makes him hold back. He lets Vincent lift him further off the bed and lets the new angle drive the man deeper into him. Vincent moves his hand before Reeve's seed spills over it. In the next moment, Reeve is empty as Vincent rolls off him, buries his climax in the bed sheets.
The absence of noise begins to fill the room and registers as they lay together. Reeve can feel a faint warmth rising off Vincent's body, reflecting off his own sweat-chilled limbs. The longer they lie there together, the slower their breathing becomes until they're finally exhaling in slow, perfect unison. Reeve doesn't feel quite so much like they're separate people for the first time all night.
It would be easy, now, to reach over and take Vincent's hand – even though he knows he'll only find cold metal, Vincent keeps the claw between them, a barrier he knows Reeve will not cross. Thus far, he hasn't been wrong. Reeve keeps his hands tucked under his hips.
When Vincent rises and collects his clothes, Reeve watches through the scrim of his eyelashes. He does not call Vincent back, and Vincent doesn't ask to stay.
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (Through DoC)
Spoilers: None
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Vin/Reeve
Summary: Sometimes sex? Is not so sexy.
Warnings: Possible dubcon, rough sex and violence
Word Count: 493
Note: Written for
30_wounds Prompt 26: Die By Your Hands. Vincent closes his hand around Reeve's thigh, hard. There will be a bruise there in the morning that Reeve will have to deal with. One of their first rules was set after an embarrassing day spent trying to pull his cuffs lower down his wrist. He presses his chest closer to Vincent's before he can think about it now. He can't close his eyes, nor watch Vincent's face, so he hitches his legs higher up Vincent's hips to accommodate the length of Vincent's cock inside him and stares at the chest rocking above him, so different from his own -- smooth, unmarred by hair. Vincent's skin is cool and porcelain-pale and clashes against the red, pre-orgasmic flush rising beneath his own chest.
He can't close his eyes because it will leave him vulnerable and trust isn't part of this. He can't meet Vincent's eyes, because he knows he'll find them as blank and unaffected as his slight chest. So instead, he rolls his head to the side and watches Vincent's claw as it works its way deeper into his mattress, the only expression of passion Vincent will allow.
A sudden, arrhythmical thrust from Vincent forces a hiss of air between his teeth. Almost against his will, his eyes slide closed and he muses, not for the first time, on the awkwardness of sex without kissing.
He can tell from Vincent's speed that the other man is close now to climaxing. He quashes the sudden impulse to steal a glimpse at Vincent's face, knowing he'll find it as impassive as ever. Squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his legs tighter around the other man to delay the inevitable.
Vincent's claw flexes and he can feel the fabric stretching under his cheek. Reeve knows the unspoken rule that makes him hold back. He lets Vincent lift him further off the bed and lets the new angle drive the man deeper into him. Vincent moves his hand before Reeve's seed spills over it. In the next moment, Reeve is empty as Vincent rolls off him, buries his climax in the bed sheets.
The absence of noise begins to fill the room and registers as they lay together. Reeve can feel a faint warmth rising off Vincent's body, reflecting off his own sweat-chilled limbs. The longer they lie there together, the slower their breathing becomes until they're finally exhaling in slow, perfect unison. Reeve doesn't feel quite so much like they're separate people for the first time all night.
It would be easy, now, to reach over and take Vincent's hand – even though he knows he'll only find cold metal, Vincent keeps the claw between them, a barrier he knows Reeve will not cross. Thus far, he hasn't been wrong. Reeve keeps his hands tucked under his hips.
When Vincent rises and collects his clothes, Reeve watches through the scrim of his eyelashes. He does not call Vincent back, and Vincent doesn't ask to stay.