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elftaintI took a prompt on a kink meme, right?
And now I need to... fix all the nonsense in it since it was basically written and posted right there, "live". SO! Everything below the cut is an immensely smutty Cid Raines/Lightning Farron fuck fic that I'll be editing right here where god and everyone can see it.
OTHER CAVEATS: I start to think this story has some hidden roots to an excellent Seifer/Squall thread I did with an excellent someone, mostly in the someone's excellent Squall. Cheers, someone. <3
NOTES TO SELF:
hahaha so many pronoun fails. fix those.
remember to tie shit back to milady's forgotten thank you and missed opportunities
REV: 01
"Sergeant Farron."
Lightning turned on one heel at the sound of her name, her eyes narrowed. Now was not the time for interruptions. She had moments only before the shuttle took off - precious minutes to get cleaned up, have a real meal. Maybe her last time tasting such civilized comforts, and the clock was always ticking...
"Brigadier General Raines." She didn't bother to hide her irritation. Why even bother with politeness at this point? "Can I help you, sir?"
Alone in the corridor just outside the lavatory, she could almost feel the steam of a hot shower on her skin and she was itching to wash off the sweat and dirt, the fragments of glass, the spill of blood, her hopelessness. A hot shower is the difference between a soldier and a beast. But he approached, tall and relaxed, in his clean white uniform. What he said was almost surprising enough to make her forget her anger.
Which anger he had clearly noticed, since he held out his hands as though in surrender, his tone disarming.
"...It's alright, Farron. You don't have to use the ordinaries' room. You're an officer, aren't you? Come on," His smile was quick and warm. "There's better soap in my quarters. Real towels, too."
"...Huh." Was her unclever rejoinder. Oh that sounded overpoweringly good. Cid ran a tight ship, that was obvious, but it was also obvious that he liked nice things. Without even wanting to, she had an unbidden vision of smooth white soap and its thick spicy lather, big fluffy bath-sheets like the beautiful towels Serah had picked out for their home, an officer's cabin... she'd never even seen one.
Still.
"I'm not comfortable being singled out for special treatment, sir."
He only laughed in reply. "Confident, aren't you? I guess it's not without reason. Have a good wash-up." He saluted and turned to leave, and even before the full impact of his statement hit her, she felt her ears burning. His frank voice carried down the hall as he added. "Snow was next on my list."
Slick son of a bitch. He didn't miss a trick. She found herself chasing him, eyes wide and her cape flapping behind her. "...Wait! Raines!"
"Change your mind?" He inquired as she drew even with him in her lithe, compact, beautifully balanced jog.
"I'd take it just to keep Snow from having it."
?
(Anonymous)
2010-03-20 10:34 pm (local) (link) Track This
The ship's captain obviously was not of the school of thought that he should live as his men do. His suite, with its rich woods and observation windows, its glass doors painted with silver wings, the thick pile of the carpet palpable even through her boots, would have been spectacular even on the ground. Between the windows and the skylights it was like walking among well-appointed clouds.
"I'm impressed," She said, honest to a fault and unable to keep from stealing glances at the weapon rack on the wall (the guns she expected, but he had a pair of beautiful shining sabers as well), the indistinct pictures on the dresser, or... his bed, immense - it would have to be, he was a giant - and with snowy sheets pulled military-tight over what looked like a thick mattress.
How long had it been since she'd slept in a real bed. Centuries. She looked up at him, suddenly canny.
"Where's the shower?"
"Through there." He pointed at the door off to their right. "I think you'll find everything in order, Sergeant. Yell if you need anything."
"Right..." The door opened as she approached, automatically, and before she was through it, he was already answering a summons from Rygdea on his telescreen. She realized an opportunity had been missed. Right... And thanks. And thanks. Damnit, Lightning.
Maybe next time.
The bathroom was smaller than she'd expected, but so clean it made her feel like a ball of mud in a hospital. For a moment she was hesitant to strip down, knowing how grimy her clothing was. ...Nothing for it. It's not like he was going to have to clean it up anyway. She did her level best to get it all folded and placed in the sink - at least that would be easy to scrub - and, perversely enjoying the cold clean tile under her toes, opened the glass shower door and turned on the water.
It warmed almost as soon as she got her hand under it. It felt wonderful. She was almost giddy as she stepped under the spray and let the first rush peel a layer of filth from her skin and weariness from her heart. She tangled her fingers in her hair, fanning it, feeling the heavy drum of the water against her scalp and shoulders. She nearly felt like singing. She turned this way and that, scrubbing at her arms, slicking the water from the soft upturned peaks of her breasts, lifting her knees one after the other to scrub off the muck at her shins and ankles. Now for the soap... the soap...
Along the gleaming white wall, against the shining, perfectly clear glass door, beneath the wide silver shower head, there was nothing. Not even a soap dish.
Wide-eyed, she poked her head out the door. Every surface was clean and white... and empty, except for the towels on the bar next to the shower, and her clothes in the sink.
"Raines.... RAINES." She yelled. "Where's the soap?"
She heard the silky whirr of the automatic door opening and was surprised at how nervous she wasn't. He stayed in the doorway like a gentleman, which, she supposed, he was.
"What's wrong?"
"The soap. Where is it." She reiterated.
"Should be in there, Sergeant."
"Well it's not."
After a brief pause, his smooth answer came. "No? Perhaps I ran through the bar already. There should be more under the sink. Sorry for the trouble."
The door whirred shut behind him.
"Raines."
Whirr. "Farron?"
"...I..." I'm a filthy mess and I don't want to drip mudwater all over your place. "Sir, I..." Another false start.
"I'm coming in," He said, more than a little amusement ringing in the words. "Don't worry, I won't look."
She could see him through the steamy door. He'd taken off his capes and the formal skirt of his uniform; he seemed at once taller and less imposing without them. Left in close-fitting and ribbed clothing, with his woven belt hanging from his hips, he looked almost like a front-line fighter. Which, she supposed, he must have been once. He was so big... it was clear to see he'd been out in the field, now that she knew to look for it. Heavy, wide, well-muscled shoulders. Economy in his movements.
He knelt at the sink and unwrapped a bar of soap. How weird, his gloves were still on. She realized then that she was staring and turned away to bury her face in the stream of water, unaccountably warm for reasons that had nothing to do with her bath.
She didn't get to see his close and bemused examination of her backside, warmth in his grey eyes and a rueful smirk on his lips. There was a quiet thunk, and then a step, and the door whirred open again.
"I'm going to leave it there on the floor, alright? I got you a washcloth, too."
"Raines..." She began.
He stopped where he was, a curious tension in his tone. "Sergeant Farron."
"Thank you." There was a curious tension in her voice too, one whose tone she heard as though a stranger were speaking. A soft note. Like a humming below where anyone could hear.
Whirr.
But he was on the wrong side of the door that time.
"Sergeant Farron," He began quietly, still turned politely away. "I will say this without anything binding upon you: if you would permit it, if you wanted it, I would like to strip down and join you in that shower. It wasn't my intention when I offered it to you in the first place, but..."
He cleared his throat.
"There's no hard feelings if you'd rather not. I have to ask now, though, since I may not get another chance."
Cool, smooth, hygenic military come-on lines like that were minted only in an officer's heart, and Lightning was both shocked by his forwardness and impressed with his faultless conviction. This was the first time in her life that she truly believed it when someone said "no hard feelings."
And he, for his own part, felt an uncertain darkness in his heart that had nothing to do with her answer, and everything to do with which one of them would pay the price before another chance would even be possible. Take your pleasures where you can find them - that's the art of surviving any campaign. Lightning was beautiful and fierce, and this was a moment outside of bonds of time that tightened around both of their throats.
There was a long moment in which the only sound was the water running, and the only movement was Lightning's arm lifting slowly to cover her breasts. Pensive, peculiarly vulnerable, she answered.
"...I'm still dirty."
A memory struck her of small, delicate, sweet Serah standing at Snow's side, and his happy smile as he gazed down at her like she was the only woman alive. Lightning had never been envious of her sister because she'd written all that off long ago. The whole reason she became a soldier was to protect Serah, to let her be the beautiful young woman she was meant to be. Still it had been hard not to feel like she'd missed out sometimes. And now...
Cid was on one bended knee again, picking up the soap and washcloth he'd left on the ground and looking up at her without embarrassment from the other side of the shower door.
"Then let's get you cleaned up."
A little out of it, like she was taken by a trance, she nodded her agreement, barely aware of the water that ran over her lips. It wasn't because he was so forward. It was because he really... honestly and simply... wanted her, and she'd never realized she'd missed it when she'd done without that sort of thing.
Smiling, he popped open the door and handed her his trophies. "Here, hold these." She took them without hesitation, but looked nowhere except him - her eyes a little wide, her lips unconsciously curling into a smile to match his.
He was going to undress, and she would get to watch the whole thing.
He shot her a knowing glance as he stepped back and untied his belt. So, you like to watch? That's fine. He threw it onto the counter next to the sink. The simple white undershirt with its grey trim was next; he grabbed the hem with both hands, crossed, and lifted it off with a single motion that laid bare the span of his powerful body. She caught her breath to see it: he was broad as a wrestler, and the play of muscle under his smooth and nearly hairless skin was hypnotic. She could see his silent laughter rather than hear it.
Mentally she reprimanded herself for getting swept away by a hot bod and a pretty face; just as quickly, and with a shock of relief, she thought, if not him, who? if not now, when? Let me have just one moment...
His grey gaze sharpened on her, and he turned away and began unfastening his pants and kicking off his boots. His back rippled as he bent, and he pushed away simple stretchy black underwear to reveal his lean hips and amazingly curved and firm ass - so that's what Serah meant when she was talking about cute asses. A pooling heat gathered in her belly that seemed to wax with her every heartbeat, and with it a deep, friendly, sensual curiosity about the man revealing himself to her so fearlessly.
Then he turned around and she unconsciously fell back against the shower wall, her fingers clutching at the tile.
Proportionate - that was the word, wasn't it? It did not seem to apply the way it was meant to apply in this case. He was proportionately built. Beneath his hard belly, against his thighs in which every sinew seemed visible, his proportionate penis hung. It wasn't like she'd never seen a naked man before, but they were more... ordinary.
And he knew where her eyes were looking. This... came up from time to time. He shook his head slightly as he slipped into the shower and ducked his head under the spray.
"Any time you're uncomfortable," He said, hesitant out of honest concern, warm out of honest desire, confident out of an honest, smug, wholly masculine pride. "We stop. Okay? There's no pressure."
"...Okay." She echoed, edging away from him. Easy for you to say. Yet she was also struck by it immediately: he loomed over her, and she was not a particularly small woman. But she felt small next to him - small next to his height, delicate next to his thick arms and sinewy back. A weird feeling, vulnerable. His thick black hair, soaked, plastered to the sides of his face and fell into his eyes. He slicked it back with one hand, and with the other he reached out to her, holding out his hand, palm up.
She looked back at him with confusion gathering in her sea-green eyes.
"The soap, sergeant."
"Oh."
She handed it over dumbly. He took it in his large, calm, intelligent hands and struck up a lather. Just as she'd envisioned - a thick heavy lather, spicy. It was impossible to peel her eyes away from the soap churning between his palms, so she didn't notice when -- she caught her breath, her expression accusatory, and jumped when he laid one well-soaped hand at her elbow and began to glide up to her shoulder.
"Too fast?"
"I'm just... not used to this."
"Bodhum is truly a backwater regiment." He remarked. "If I were in your brigade..." His huge palm slicked lather over her collarbone. His touch was surprisingly light, as though he were cautious of surprising her again.
"...If you were in my brigade, what?" There was a dangerous note in her voice.
"I'd hope we would both get used to this."
She wasn't sure if it was a satisfying answer, but when his fingers traced the tender lines of her throat before sliding down between her breasts, it didn't really seem to matter all that much what he said. "Raines..." She murmured, disconcerted by his slowness and how much it made her feel.
"Cid." His hand, warm past the heat of the shower, covered her breast, cupping it, lifting it gently against her body; with his other hand he took the washcloth from her unresisting fingers and let it fall to the floor. Then he picked up her wrist where it lay hanging at her side, and flattened her hand over his chest. "At least in here."
He was solid and vital beneath her hand. His muscles tightened palpably as he rolled his thumb over the wet delicate flesh of her breast, obviously appreciative. His huge hand seemed to swallow her up. Its strength was obvious, and yet he was restrained.
He wasn't going to go any further without her participation. Side-by-side, mutual respect, that's how he meant to do it. His steam-grey eyes, striking in their frames of dark lashes, watched her closely, patiently. The water was at his back and it collected in the hollow of his collarbone and cascaded down the impossible length of his body.
In a gesture of uncommon uncertainty and resolution, she bit her lower lip and gazed up at him. He couldn't know how disjointed this was for her - to be with a man, to be with such a man, to be with the only friendly face she'd seen since the fal'Cie changed her, to be with an officer, to understand his patience, to want to escape her horrible destiny, to be on the eve of a tactical strike that she might not survive. To be in a hot shower. But he wanted her in the most uncomplicated way possible, and that meant... it was okay... if she wanted him the same way.
She stepped closer. Realizing she enjoyed the weight of his hand on her body, she laid her fingers over his - thick and hard, manicured and slick with soap where they lay on her - and pressed her soft mouth to the waterfall that ran down him. He made a sound like he'd been holding his breath and only now remembered to inhale; his other arm curled around her shoulders and drew her wet hair away from her neck.
He bent; his hands slid down her waist, luxuriously sudsing the small of her back. He collected her ass in his slippery palms and kneaded as his lips brushed her cheek, the lobe of her ear, the silky and vitally fragile skin of her throat. She gasped in gratification and answering desire, and tilted her head back in invitation. Her fingers, strong despite seeming so small against him, fell on his shoulders at first in mute acceptance, and then she steeled herself.
No, I want more.
She pushed at him, and he rose, regarding her querulously.
"Stop it."
His black brows lifted, a naked disappointment creeping across his face.
"I mean... stop... romancing me." She murmured, peculiarly ashamed, looking away from him. "I want to..." Touch your amazing body. I want to play with it. There was no way she'd ever be able to say that aloud. But she had to say something. "Just... here."
Despite her visible blush, she shoved him back against the wall and grabbed the soap perfunctorily from where it lay on the floor. He followed her lead, watching her with growing incredulity and interest, and when she lathered up and slid one slippery hand down his hard abdomen, she was rewarded with a visible twitch of his cock. Encouraged, embarrassed, she ordered: "Hold the soap." And shoved it into his hand before continuing her exploration of his wide chest and the rilling muscles of his sides and hips.
His slow smile in reply - there was something a little wolfish about it, a little dangerous, and also a very real gratification. He liked it. He was excited by her quick caresses. His chin tilted up; he looked overhead and saw the shower head. It was unusually high, but then, he was unusually sized. He reached up easily and wrapped a hand around it - the other holding out the white bar of soap out for her, like he was part of the bathroom furniture. Anything you like, the deep relaxed incline of his body seemed to say. Take whatever you want. It was written in the sexual slant of his gaze and in the thickening erection that lifted in direct answer to the trace of her fingers along the crease beneath his pectorals.
She brushed her fingers over his nipple - all four, one after another, slow like he'd been - and he shifted, sucking in his breath, and began to turn the soap over and over in his one hand.
"Your turn, sergeant."
She flushed, halting abruptly. There was something kind of... He was just Cid to her, but to him, she was Sergeant Farron. Was it arousing? He was huge, rich, and brilliant, and commanded five thousand of the finest assault troops in Cocoon, but right now, he was at her command.
She shivered with delicious open enjoyment when he carefully balanced the soap on his shoulder and reached for her. His hand curled around her throat at first and tightened subtly, and there was a hot charge that shot through her at the implication. He just smiled still and let his hand tumble down her body; it flicked over one breast, then the other, hardly lingering. Then her belly, smooth and white; he lingered at the stud that pierced her navel and tugged on it, very lightly, playfulness in his lowered eyes. Lower and lower her fingers crept and, at the rose bloom of curls between her thighs, he suddenly pulled away.
This time it was her turn to look disappointed, and it showed on the upturned oval of her face. He just smiled back at her and lathered both his hands, and gave the soap back to her.
"Hold this, and don't drop it."
As soon as she'd taken it, one hand rested on the springy soft mound of her; his fingers stole between her legs but only rested on the delicate lips of her and rubbed gently.
It was hard to look anywhere but the broad shoulder that bent to her, the long, strong, battle-hardened arm that turned up and pressed his hand to her. She threw her arms around him and hissed, her eyes squeezing shut suddenly - she had no idea she was so sensitive, and his gentleness was going to drive her mad.
"Cid," She muttered, warm and warning. Her fingers tangled in his wet hair and yanked his head back, and her mouth covered his without apology or preparation. A hard hot kiss of open lust, the only way she could find to say hurry up.
His kiss was generous. He led her into his mouth with a cunning slant of his lips and his instant gentle adherence. He'd been expecting it, or maybe hoping for it, either way she could feel his satisfaction as his tongue lapped against hers. Hard to fault him for his easy sensuality, especially when he seemed to understand her need as soon as she clung to him.
His finger - just one, at first - eased between her slick and tender folds. Automatically she widened her stance, moaning against his mouth and instantly disconcerted by her openness. But it encouraged him; he responded at once, pressing closer and searching for the soft little mouth of her vagina. He slipped inside her easily and stroked her in a quick, shallow, almost-satisfying-enough rhythm that left her bracing herself against his bigness and closing her eyes against the sea of sensation that suffused her.
He would've liked to rush things. The strength in her arms and her quick, clear, naked response made her seem like she could handle anything, but... beyond anything else, she was about to go to war. It wasn't the time to impress himself on her body, as tantalizing as the idea was. She was small inside, tight even around his single finger; she'd feel it if he entered her now.
No. Not this time, anyway.
He pressed a second finger tight against the first and pushed into her, and she cried out and dragged her mouth away from his. A sharp quiver of fear - it's not too much, is it? - shook him, but then she dragged her soft lean thigh up against his hip and pressed to him, and then she sank her teeth into his ear. His low rumbling groan was wholly pleased; he caught her knee in one hand and pinned her in place, and lifted her up against the wall as her thighs tightened around him. His fingers were still arching slickly inside her, less to prepare her and more just to feel her tighten around him and pant in her pleasure.
"Sergeant..." A low pulse, his voice, that seemed to vibrate through his chest and communicate itself to her in the tight press of their bodies. She was still slippery and soapy against him and he rubbed himself against her - his whole body - demonstratively as she held to him. "You're tough..." He began, knowing he sounded less collected than he would have liked. "But if you don't stop encouraging me..."
The steaming shower fell against their sides, teasing and hot. In silence she caught his mouth again and fit her hands to the sides of his face, holding him close, counting fearlessly on his strength to hold her up against the wall. When she pulled away there was certainty and arousal in her eyes.
"Do it." She ordered, tremulously, and brushed the hair back from his brow. "I'm on a timetable, Raines."
In some state between stun and enchantment, his mouth dropped open dumbly, and he looked down at the slick collection of their bodies together. His hand worked its way between them and he held her, half with his abrupt kiss, half with the hard press of his chest against hers, as he guided his cock up against where she was spread and open and liquid for him.
Easing inside of Lightning Farron shook him. She was so snug, and there was a desperate shine in her eyes as he watched her - like it was painful and she'd kill him if he stopped. Hard to go slow, hard to remember to give her time to get used to him. She watched him, too, and saw his pupils constrict with intense pleasure, saw the way he breathed deep through his nose as he tried to control himself. Her arms lay limp over his shoulders. She was completely absorbed in the feeling of him.
The panting, taut, shattering sensation that rippled over her - she was too full. Intimately stretched taut, almost so much that she was afraid of being hurt. Part of her wanted to tell him to get out, now, and leave her alone and... The other part of her, the part that answered the quiet question in his gaze dark with lust, just moaned and looked at him with eyes half-slitted, and arched her breasts against him, and felt a sultry seductive openness quicken inside of her.
His hands engulfed her ass; he was fantastically aware of the lean sleek power in the thighs that brushed his arms and clung to his waist. The little stud inset in her belly - hard, but warm with her warmth, he felt that too. The languor that had wrapped her, wet and deep rose and fragrant, like she was made of petals - it was because of him, he knew it. He let his forehead rest against hers and felt her breath on his mouth, and the drip of water from the tip of her nose. The heavy pound at his chest - was that his excitement, or hers.
"It's alright?"
Her arm tightened, lifted; her hand wrapped the back of his head. She dug her heels into his back, and even that motion drew a groan from her, and a sharp inhale from him.
"Just... go slow." Caution in her words, but also a fear that he would - somehow lose his nerve, if she didn't show him that it was okay. Past "okay." Doesn't live on the same scale as "okay." Don't stop.
"I will."
Relief and mercurial pleasure and hollowness rushed over her as soon as he withdrew, even as slowly and shallowly as he did. He didn't look anywhere but at her, and his body lifted against hers with his every deep, even, tightly controlled breath. His lips were slack; she could see the even white row of his teeth. Then everything went dark as he pressed into her again and her eyes slid shut almost by reflex.
So much friction, so warm between them. His fingers dug into the firm curve of her ass; hers tightened in his hair, over his shoulder - holding to him and taking a totally foreign pleasure in trusting him to take care of her. With each short stroke she felt herself opening for him, the pain of stretching around him fading, and in its place came a rain-soaked vital enjoyment.
He could feel it when she started to relax, and he buried his stupid answering overeagerness in long shivering breaths. His back felt tight as a drum as he eased inside her again, feeling her slick softness part for him and the clear sweet clench of internal muscles as she clung to him. He was more and more hungry with every stroke to just have done with the preliminaries and fuck her, but he knew - she'd tell him when she was ready for more. Do it soon, Farron.
He didn't have long to wait. Her tense breaths became low moans, her moans grew warmer and louder. She's a yeller, he thought, mutely surprised. ...Or she's going to be. Interrupting the gratifying distraction of these thoughts, she bucked against him, and turned her narrow heated blue-green gaze up at him. "Raines."
"Sergeant... Farron." He managed, pushing into her so deeply he could feel the soft fur of her touch his belly. He didn't try to look respectful.
She didn't try to conceal how good it felt, her eyelids shuttering and her quick pink tongue slipping out to touch the fullness of her upper lip. Her voice was hoarse with desire, low and commanding.
"I want to try your bed."
It took a moment for him to put thoughts together, but hard on that came ideas about taking her from behind, her wet hair on his pillows and her perfect ass up in the air. Her hot glare reflected her surprise when she felt him twich inside of her, though she likely didn't know the reason.
"Get the handle, then. My hands are full." His fingers rolled demonstratively under the weight of her.
"...Aren't you going to ... put me down?" She breathed.
"Now why would I do that?"
He shifted back and hissed at the superb feeling of her sagging against him and scrambling to tighten her thighs around him and wrap her arms over his shoulders. He didn't doubt that she'd compensate; she was fast and agile. In his arms she had a hard heaviness. It felt good to hold her.
"Cid..."
"Get the shower," He said softly against her ear, leaning a little so she could reach the control more easily. Her shifting weight and the slide of her breasts when she reached for the controls - it made her sink closer, lower, which pulled a deep rumble of pleasure from him.
Whirr.
It wasn't any trouble for him to carry her. She was wrapped around him and balanced as a blade, and as he took long sure strides to the bed, she started to paint damp kisses along the curve of his ear and jaw. The sun that shone through the skylights slid over her wet skin and disappeared into the darkness of his hair.
"Up or down, sergeant?"
"What?" Hard to care about what he was saying. The shoulders under her arms were palpably heavy and dense, and every time he moved, the muscles leapt under subtle unconscious control to keep her steady against him. An amazing realization. He was still inside her and that was also amazing; his strength was like a toy. He held her like she didn't weigh any more than a child.
"How do you want to be? On the bed."
For whatever reason she'd just assumed he would do what he wanted, and anything would have been good as long as it was more of this. But he was asking her what she wanted. Tough decisions when every nerve in her body was consumed by his warmth and size and masculinity. She licked her lips, squeezing around him. Less and less to be shy about all the time, but it was still hard to say what she meant.
"You're... you're on top, Raines."
His smile came and went in an instant as he set one knee on the bed. "Hold on."
The mattress was firm against her back, the sheets smooth - sheets only, not that she was paying much attention to it. He was careful and heavy when he covered her. She drew her knees up at once, her long legs folding over his back and tugging him closer. That honest impulse brought his easy grin back; he settled against her and petted her hair away from her face, and his hand traced her cheek and nestled between them.
He cupped her sleek breast again and rolled her nipple between his fingers. She was small and strong beneath him. His abdomen flexed against hers with a slow skimming thrill as he began to fill her again...
"I'm not gonna break." Warning and challenge and wish, all at once.
Took you long enough. His warm grip on her shifted. He got his hand under her hip and pinned her against his body and pressed his simmering smile against her mouth.
Her gasp like shattering glass lifted as he withdrew, almost to the point of leaving her completely, and sank back inside her with all his weight behind it. Urgent now, encouraged by need long restrained and hastened by her slippery wetness, he drove into her body; his shuddering breath broke against her cheek, his tongue dipped with disconcerting tenderness into her mouth. It was overwhelming and he was immense and when he bottomed out inside her she felt alien twinges of pain and pleasure mixed and if she stopped to think about it she might have been afraid but...
She didn't have to stop to think.
That was what she wanted: not to have to think about it. Laying open to him and feeling his hunger and letting him feel hers, everything locked away in this moment that didn't belong to Cocoon or Serah or anyone else. His every hard thrust pulled an answering cry from her. Her heels dug into his back, her hands fanned over the breadth of his shoulders and giddily drank the feel of him - but she couldn't stop herself from pulling at him. Closer. Harder, Cid. Her belly pulled taut as a cord as she began to curl up to meet his strokes.
His hot groan of satisfaction filled her mouth. She was slick and tight and she bucked against him, more unrestrained every second. She had beautiful eyes, bright predatory eyes, and he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't enjoy how openly her lust showed in them or how they would narrow, feral, when he sank deep in her. She clenched around him and her nails dug into his back. A hard sure panic shared between them as they made war on each other--
Abruptly the pressure at his shoulder released. Her hand snaked between them and he sucked in his breath to watch her: her neck arched, her soft lips parted, her thighs spread wide and fell open like a rose full blown. Her lithe fingers dug into the furrow of her labia and she felt her own slipperiness and heat, felt his surging thrusts and the crinkle of his dark hair. "....Cid!..." She cried, urgent heat in her voice.
"Go on."
He shifted onto his elbows, hanging easily over her. Her white throat open and vulnerable beneath him... his damp hair fell over it as he bent to her and sucked the pulse, panting against her sharp gasps, rutting into the lift of her hips. So swollen within her, he felt every glide of her like a deep itch soothed and slapped. Her eyes squeezed shut. She seized him with her legs and locked him so tight against her that it was hard to keep moving.
"Ah... ahh..." Her fingers rubbing quick and light, his heavy body drowning her and filling her... She pushed up against him in intense need and fell apart. Shaking, crying out, arching up to grab him and drag him into her hard kiss, she demanded satisfaction from him and his strength and heat. He did not fail her.
As the tension of her body unwound in brilliant spasms, he ground his hips against her, nursing her orgasm and letting the grip of her body suck at him. He only managed to thrust once, twice - then a flood undammed, he let the rush take him. He shoved into her and jerked and felt his cock pulsing and it was so good that he groaned out her name without meaning to when he fell against her. Her true name, the one on the dossier.
In her exhausted saturation of pleasure, she neither noticed nor minded.
He sprawled on his back over the sheets, still breathing hard and overheated. Lightning, too, needed some space to cool off and unwind limbs sore with unaccustomed strain. Still, conscious of their terms of engagement, he reached out to her and rested his knuckles against her cheek. The caress was both soothing and annoying; as her wits returned to her, she felt overstimulated beyond belief and unsure about what, if anything, had changed now.
No.
Nothing had changed, not really. Her mission hadn't changed. The Primarch was waiting for her, whether he knew it or not. She had Snow and Hope to watch over - the one a hopeless romantic, the other too young not to try so hard. Fang had to answer for her crimes. Sazh and Vanille had to be rescued. Cocoon had waited a few extra minutes for her, but her team was probably already in the ship. Everyone was waiting on her.
Hissing a little at the twinge and discomfort of sitting up, she was already starting to slide from the bed when he looked over at her in surprise. He was lazily outstretched and profoundly satisfied, and the idea of getting up and doing anything seemed - hasty.
"Where are you going?" He asked it with genuine warmth and interest.
"Shuttle's waiting, Raines."
At that he looked almost confused, like she'd reached over and slapped him. "...But - Sergeant..." Had he done something wrong? Said the wrong thing? What was her rush? Her mission - but -
It just didn't seem that important.
And she in turn looked shocked that he didn't get it. She slid from the bed, walking tenatively and bare-assed to the bathroom to clean up for real this time.
"Look, Raines... Cid. I..." She stopped at the door, gazing back at him, half resolved and half anxious. Hard to be anxious right now. But there was so much to say and no words in her vocabulary for thank you, that was the most incredible sex I've ever had, but I need to get going. We both need to get going. We need to stay focused. It was easy to guide Hope, but Cid didn't need guidance. He just - apparently - wanted something she couldn't give him right now. That was too much to admit.
Her tangled hair fell over her shoulder and a warm flush still pinked her cheeks and her mouth; she licked her lips, and finally she said, "Look... I'll be back." The bathroom door shut behind her.
It was cheap, an escape. She'd have to apologize to him later.
He was already dressed when she emerged dressed and ready. Guarded regret in his eyes and his black hair in an unprofessional tangle, he was waiting at the portal to the hallway. "Farron."
She wanted to be cool when she passed him, but the sunlight on his cheek and his broad shoulder felt too familiar. Already too familiar; is this how it had been for Serah. She reached up, hesitant at first, and laid her hand over his broad chest. She lingered only a moment, then patted him, and turned to go. He didn't follow.
It wasn't until the shuttlecraft had docked - after the battle that greeted them there - that she realized there had been a dark mark on the back of his hand.
And now I need to... fix all the nonsense in it since it was basically written and posted right there, "live". SO! Everything below the cut is an immensely smutty Cid Raines/Lightning Farron fuck fic that I'll be editing right here where god and everyone can see it.
OTHER CAVEATS: I start to think this story has some hidden roots to an excellent Seifer/Squall thread I did with an excellent someone, mostly in the someone's excellent Squall. Cheers, someone. <3
NOTES TO SELF:
hahaha so many pronoun fails. fix those.
remember to tie shit back to milady's forgotten thank you and missed opportunities
REV: 01
"Sergeant Farron."
Lightning turned on one heel at the sound of her name, her eyes narrowed. Now was not the time for interruptions. She had moments only before the shuttle took off - precious minutes to get cleaned up, have a real meal. Maybe her last time tasting such civilized comforts, and the clock was always ticking...
"Brigadier General Raines." She didn't bother to hide her irritation. Why even bother with politeness at this point? "Can I help you, sir?"
Alone in the corridor just outside the lavatory, she could almost feel the steam of a hot shower on her skin and she was itching to wash off the sweat and dirt, the fragments of glass, the spill of blood, her hopelessness. A hot shower is the difference between a soldier and a beast. But he approached, tall and relaxed, in his clean white uniform. What he said was almost surprising enough to make her forget her anger.
Which anger he had clearly noticed, since he held out his hands as though in surrender, his tone disarming.
"...It's alright, Farron. You don't have to use the ordinaries' room. You're an officer, aren't you? Come on," His smile was quick and warm. "There's better soap in my quarters. Real towels, too."
"...Huh." Was her unclever rejoinder. Oh that sounded overpoweringly good. Cid ran a tight ship, that was obvious, but it was also obvious that he liked nice things. Without even wanting to, she had an unbidden vision of smooth white soap and its thick spicy lather, big fluffy bath-sheets like the beautiful towels Serah had picked out for their home, an officer's cabin... she'd never even seen one.
Still.
"I'm not comfortable being singled out for special treatment, sir."
He only laughed in reply. "Confident, aren't you? I guess it's not without reason. Have a good wash-up." He saluted and turned to leave, and even before the full impact of his statement hit her, she felt her ears burning. His frank voice carried down the hall as he added. "Snow was next on my list."
Slick son of a bitch. He didn't miss a trick. She found herself chasing him, eyes wide and her cape flapping behind her. "...Wait! Raines!"
"Change your mind?" He inquired as she drew even with him in her lithe, compact, beautifully balanced jog.
"I'd take it just to keep Snow from having it."
?
(Anonymous)
2010-03-20 10:34 pm (local) (link) Track This
The ship's captain obviously was not of the school of thought that he should live as his men do. His suite, with its rich woods and observation windows, its glass doors painted with silver wings, the thick pile of the carpet palpable even through her boots, would have been spectacular even on the ground. Between the windows and the skylights it was like walking among well-appointed clouds.
"I'm impressed," She said, honest to a fault and unable to keep from stealing glances at the weapon rack on the wall (the guns she expected, but he had a pair of beautiful shining sabers as well), the indistinct pictures on the dresser, or... his bed, immense - it would have to be, he was a giant - and with snowy sheets pulled military-tight over what looked like a thick mattress.
How long had it been since she'd slept in a real bed. Centuries. She looked up at him, suddenly canny.
"Where's the shower?"
"Through there." He pointed at the door off to their right. "I think you'll find everything in order, Sergeant. Yell if you need anything."
"Right..." The door opened as she approached, automatically, and before she was through it, he was already answering a summons from Rygdea on his telescreen. She realized an opportunity had been missed. Right... And thanks. And thanks. Damnit, Lightning.
Maybe next time.
The bathroom was smaller than she'd expected, but so clean it made her feel like a ball of mud in a hospital. For a moment she was hesitant to strip down, knowing how grimy her clothing was. ...Nothing for it. It's not like he was going to have to clean it up anyway. She did her level best to get it all folded and placed in the sink - at least that would be easy to scrub - and, perversely enjoying the cold clean tile under her toes, opened the glass shower door and turned on the water.
It warmed almost as soon as she got her hand under it. It felt wonderful. She was almost giddy as she stepped under the spray and let the first rush peel a layer of filth from her skin and weariness from her heart. She tangled her fingers in her hair, fanning it, feeling the heavy drum of the water against her scalp and shoulders. She nearly felt like singing. She turned this way and that, scrubbing at her arms, slicking the water from the soft upturned peaks of her breasts, lifting her knees one after the other to scrub off the muck at her shins and ankles. Now for the soap... the soap...
Along the gleaming white wall, against the shining, perfectly clear glass door, beneath the wide silver shower head, there was nothing. Not even a soap dish.
Wide-eyed, she poked her head out the door. Every surface was clean and white... and empty, except for the towels on the bar next to the shower, and her clothes in the sink.
"Raines.... RAINES." She yelled. "Where's the soap?"
She heard the silky whirr of the automatic door opening and was surprised at how nervous she wasn't. He stayed in the doorway like a gentleman, which, she supposed, he was.
"What's wrong?"
"The soap. Where is it." She reiterated.
"Should be in there, Sergeant."
"Well it's not."
After a brief pause, his smooth answer came. "No? Perhaps I ran through the bar already. There should be more under the sink. Sorry for the trouble."
The door whirred shut behind him.
"Raines."
Whirr. "Farron?"
"...I..." I'm a filthy mess and I don't want to drip mudwater all over your place. "Sir, I..." Another false start.
"I'm coming in," He said, more than a little amusement ringing in the words. "Don't worry, I won't look."
She could see him through the steamy door. He'd taken off his capes and the formal skirt of his uniform; he seemed at once taller and less imposing without them. Left in close-fitting and ribbed clothing, with his woven belt hanging from his hips, he looked almost like a front-line fighter. Which, she supposed, he must have been once. He was so big... it was clear to see he'd been out in the field, now that she knew to look for it. Heavy, wide, well-muscled shoulders. Economy in his movements.
He knelt at the sink and unwrapped a bar of soap. How weird, his gloves were still on. She realized then that she was staring and turned away to bury her face in the stream of water, unaccountably warm for reasons that had nothing to do with her bath.
She didn't get to see his close and bemused examination of her backside, warmth in his grey eyes and a rueful smirk on his lips. There was a quiet thunk, and then a step, and the door whirred open again.
"I'm going to leave it there on the floor, alright? I got you a washcloth, too."
"Raines..." She began.
He stopped where he was, a curious tension in his tone. "Sergeant Farron."
"Thank you." There was a curious tension in her voice too, one whose tone she heard as though a stranger were speaking. A soft note. Like a humming below where anyone could hear.
Whirr.
But he was on the wrong side of the door that time.
"Sergeant Farron," He began quietly, still turned politely away. "I will say this without anything binding upon you: if you would permit it, if you wanted it, I would like to strip down and join you in that shower. It wasn't my intention when I offered it to you in the first place, but..."
He cleared his throat.
"There's no hard feelings if you'd rather not. I have to ask now, though, since I may not get another chance."
Cool, smooth, hygenic military come-on lines like that were minted only in an officer's heart, and Lightning was both shocked by his forwardness and impressed with his faultless conviction. This was the first time in her life that she truly believed it when someone said "no hard feelings."
And he, for his own part, felt an uncertain darkness in his heart that had nothing to do with her answer, and everything to do with which one of them would pay the price before another chance would even be possible. Take your pleasures where you can find them - that's the art of surviving any campaign. Lightning was beautiful and fierce, and this was a moment outside of bonds of time that tightened around both of their throats.
There was a long moment in which the only sound was the water running, and the only movement was Lightning's arm lifting slowly to cover her breasts. Pensive, peculiarly vulnerable, she answered.
"...I'm still dirty."
A memory struck her of small, delicate, sweet Serah standing at Snow's side, and his happy smile as he gazed down at her like she was the only woman alive. Lightning had never been envious of her sister because she'd written all that off long ago. The whole reason she became a soldier was to protect Serah, to let her be the beautiful young woman she was meant to be. Still it had been hard not to feel like she'd missed out sometimes. And now...
Cid was on one bended knee again, picking up the soap and washcloth he'd left on the ground and looking up at her without embarrassment from the other side of the shower door.
"Then let's get you cleaned up."
A little out of it, like she was taken by a trance, she nodded her agreement, barely aware of the water that ran over her lips. It wasn't because he was so forward. It was because he really... honestly and simply... wanted her, and she'd never realized she'd missed it when she'd done without that sort of thing.
Smiling, he popped open the door and handed her his trophies. "Here, hold these." She took them without hesitation, but looked nowhere except him - her eyes a little wide, her lips unconsciously curling into a smile to match his.
He was going to undress, and she would get to watch the whole thing.
He shot her a knowing glance as he stepped back and untied his belt. So, you like to watch? That's fine. He threw it onto the counter next to the sink. The simple white undershirt with its grey trim was next; he grabbed the hem with both hands, crossed, and lifted it off with a single motion that laid bare the span of his powerful body. She caught her breath to see it: he was broad as a wrestler, and the play of muscle under his smooth and nearly hairless skin was hypnotic. She could see his silent laughter rather than hear it.
Mentally she reprimanded herself for getting swept away by a hot bod and a pretty face; just as quickly, and with a shock of relief, she thought, if not him, who? if not now, when? Let me have just one moment...
His grey gaze sharpened on her, and he turned away and began unfastening his pants and kicking off his boots. His back rippled as he bent, and he pushed away simple stretchy black underwear to reveal his lean hips and amazingly curved and firm ass - so that's what Serah meant when she was talking about cute asses. A pooling heat gathered in her belly that seemed to wax with her every heartbeat, and with it a deep, friendly, sensual curiosity about the man revealing himself to her so fearlessly.
Then he turned around and she unconsciously fell back against the shower wall, her fingers clutching at the tile.
Proportionate - that was the word, wasn't it? It did not seem to apply the way it was meant to apply in this case. He was proportionately built. Beneath his hard belly, against his thighs in which every sinew seemed visible, his proportionate penis hung. It wasn't like she'd never seen a naked man before, but they were more... ordinary.
And he knew where her eyes were looking. This... came up from time to time. He shook his head slightly as he slipped into the shower and ducked his head under the spray.
"Any time you're uncomfortable," He said, hesitant out of honest concern, warm out of honest desire, confident out of an honest, smug, wholly masculine pride. "We stop. Okay? There's no pressure."
"...Okay." She echoed, edging away from him. Easy for you to say. Yet she was also struck by it immediately: he loomed over her, and she was not a particularly small woman. But she felt small next to him - small next to his height, delicate next to his thick arms and sinewy back. A weird feeling, vulnerable. His thick black hair, soaked, plastered to the sides of his face and fell into his eyes. He slicked it back with one hand, and with the other he reached out to her, holding out his hand, palm up.
She looked back at him with confusion gathering in her sea-green eyes.
"The soap, sergeant."
"Oh."
She handed it over dumbly. He took it in his large, calm, intelligent hands and struck up a lather. Just as she'd envisioned - a thick heavy lather, spicy. It was impossible to peel her eyes away from the soap churning between his palms, so she didn't notice when -- she caught her breath, her expression accusatory, and jumped when he laid one well-soaped hand at her elbow and began to glide up to her shoulder.
"Too fast?"
"I'm just... not used to this."
"Bodhum is truly a backwater regiment." He remarked. "If I were in your brigade..." His huge palm slicked lather over her collarbone. His touch was surprisingly light, as though he were cautious of surprising her again.
"...If you were in my brigade, what?" There was a dangerous note in her voice.
"I'd hope we would both get used to this."
She wasn't sure if it was a satisfying answer, but when his fingers traced the tender lines of her throat before sliding down between her breasts, it didn't really seem to matter all that much what he said. "Raines..." She murmured, disconcerted by his slowness and how much it made her feel.
"Cid." His hand, warm past the heat of the shower, covered her breast, cupping it, lifting it gently against her body; with his other hand he took the washcloth from her unresisting fingers and let it fall to the floor. Then he picked up her wrist where it lay hanging at her side, and flattened her hand over his chest. "At least in here."
He was solid and vital beneath her hand. His muscles tightened palpably as he rolled his thumb over the wet delicate flesh of her breast, obviously appreciative. His huge hand seemed to swallow her up. Its strength was obvious, and yet he was restrained.
He wasn't going to go any further without her participation. Side-by-side, mutual respect, that's how he meant to do it. His steam-grey eyes, striking in their frames of dark lashes, watched her closely, patiently. The water was at his back and it collected in the hollow of his collarbone and cascaded down the impossible length of his body.
In a gesture of uncommon uncertainty and resolution, she bit her lower lip and gazed up at him. He couldn't know how disjointed this was for her - to be with a man, to be with such a man, to be with the only friendly face she'd seen since the fal'Cie changed her, to be with an officer, to understand his patience, to want to escape her horrible destiny, to be on the eve of a tactical strike that she might not survive. To be in a hot shower. But he wanted her in the most uncomplicated way possible, and that meant... it was okay... if she wanted him the same way.
She stepped closer. Realizing she enjoyed the weight of his hand on her body, she laid her fingers over his - thick and hard, manicured and slick with soap where they lay on her - and pressed her soft mouth to the waterfall that ran down him. He made a sound like he'd been holding his breath and only now remembered to inhale; his other arm curled around her shoulders and drew her wet hair away from her neck.
He bent; his hands slid down her waist, luxuriously sudsing the small of her back. He collected her ass in his slippery palms and kneaded as his lips brushed her cheek, the lobe of her ear, the silky and vitally fragile skin of her throat. She gasped in gratification and answering desire, and tilted her head back in invitation. Her fingers, strong despite seeming so small against him, fell on his shoulders at first in mute acceptance, and then she steeled herself.
No, I want more.
She pushed at him, and he rose, regarding her querulously.
"Stop it."
His black brows lifted, a naked disappointment creeping across his face.
"I mean... stop... romancing me." She murmured, peculiarly ashamed, looking away from him. "I want to..." Touch your amazing body. I want to play with it. There was no way she'd ever be able to say that aloud. But she had to say something. "Just... here."
Despite her visible blush, she shoved him back against the wall and grabbed the soap perfunctorily from where it lay on the floor. He followed her lead, watching her with growing incredulity and interest, and when she lathered up and slid one slippery hand down his hard abdomen, she was rewarded with a visible twitch of his cock. Encouraged, embarrassed, she ordered: "Hold the soap." And shoved it into his hand before continuing her exploration of his wide chest and the rilling muscles of his sides and hips.
His slow smile in reply - there was something a little wolfish about it, a little dangerous, and also a very real gratification. He liked it. He was excited by her quick caresses. His chin tilted up; he looked overhead and saw the shower head. It was unusually high, but then, he was unusually sized. He reached up easily and wrapped a hand around it - the other holding out the white bar of soap out for her, like he was part of the bathroom furniture. Anything you like, the deep relaxed incline of his body seemed to say. Take whatever you want. It was written in the sexual slant of his gaze and in the thickening erection that lifted in direct answer to the trace of her fingers along the crease beneath his pectorals.
She brushed her fingers over his nipple - all four, one after another, slow like he'd been - and he shifted, sucking in his breath, and began to turn the soap over and over in his one hand.
"Your turn, sergeant."
She flushed, halting abruptly. There was something kind of... He was just Cid to her, but to him, she was Sergeant Farron. Was it arousing? He was huge, rich, and brilliant, and commanded five thousand of the finest assault troops in Cocoon, but right now, he was at her command.
She shivered with delicious open enjoyment when he carefully balanced the soap on his shoulder and reached for her. His hand curled around her throat at first and tightened subtly, and there was a hot charge that shot through her at the implication. He just smiled still and let his hand tumble down her body; it flicked over one breast, then the other, hardly lingering. Then her belly, smooth and white; he lingered at the stud that pierced her navel and tugged on it, very lightly, playfulness in his lowered eyes. Lower and lower her fingers crept and, at the rose bloom of curls between her thighs, he suddenly pulled away.
This time it was her turn to look disappointed, and it showed on the upturned oval of her face. He just smiled back at her and lathered both his hands, and gave the soap back to her.
"Hold this, and don't drop it."
As soon as she'd taken it, one hand rested on the springy soft mound of her; his fingers stole between her legs but only rested on the delicate lips of her and rubbed gently.
It was hard to look anywhere but the broad shoulder that bent to her, the long, strong, battle-hardened arm that turned up and pressed his hand to her. She threw her arms around him and hissed, her eyes squeezing shut suddenly - she had no idea she was so sensitive, and his gentleness was going to drive her mad.
"Cid," She muttered, warm and warning. Her fingers tangled in his wet hair and yanked his head back, and her mouth covered his without apology or preparation. A hard hot kiss of open lust, the only way she could find to say hurry up.
His kiss was generous. He led her into his mouth with a cunning slant of his lips and his instant gentle adherence. He'd been expecting it, or maybe hoping for it, either way she could feel his satisfaction as his tongue lapped against hers. Hard to fault him for his easy sensuality, especially when he seemed to understand her need as soon as she clung to him.
His finger - just one, at first - eased between her slick and tender folds. Automatically she widened her stance, moaning against his mouth and instantly disconcerted by her openness. But it encouraged him; he responded at once, pressing closer and searching for the soft little mouth of her vagina. He slipped inside her easily and stroked her in a quick, shallow, almost-satisfying-enough rhythm that left her bracing herself against his bigness and closing her eyes against the sea of sensation that suffused her.
He would've liked to rush things. The strength in her arms and her quick, clear, naked response made her seem like she could handle anything, but... beyond anything else, she was about to go to war. It wasn't the time to impress himself on her body, as tantalizing as the idea was. She was small inside, tight even around his single finger; she'd feel it if he entered her now.
No. Not this time, anyway.
He pressed a second finger tight against the first and pushed into her, and she cried out and dragged her mouth away from his. A sharp quiver of fear - it's not too much, is it? - shook him, but then she dragged her soft lean thigh up against his hip and pressed to him, and then she sank her teeth into his ear. His low rumbling groan was wholly pleased; he caught her knee in one hand and pinned her in place, and lifted her up against the wall as her thighs tightened around him. His fingers were still arching slickly inside her, less to prepare her and more just to feel her tighten around him and pant in her pleasure.
"Sergeant..." A low pulse, his voice, that seemed to vibrate through his chest and communicate itself to her in the tight press of their bodies. She was still slippery and soapy against him and he rubbed himself against her - his whole body - demonstratively as she held to him. "You're tough..." He began, knowing he sounded less collected than he would have liked. "But if you don't stop encouraging me..."
The steaming shower fell against their sides, teasing and hot. In silence she caught his mouth again and fit her hands to the sides of his face, holding him close, counting fearlessly on his strength to hold her up against the wall. When she pulled away there was certainty and arousal in her eyes.
"Do it." She ordered, tremulously, and brushed the hair back from his brow. "I'm on a timetable, Raines."
In some state between stun and enchantment, his mouth dropped open dumbly, and he looked down at the slick collection of their bodies together. His hand worked its way between them and he held her, half with his abrupt kiss, half with the hard press of his chest against hers, as he guided his cock up against where she was spread and open and liquid for him.
Easing inside of Lightning Farron shook him. She was so snug, and there was a desperate shine in her eyes as he watched her - like it was painful and she'd kill him if he stopped. Hard to go slow, hard to remember to give her time to get used to him. She watched him, too, and saw his pupils constrict with intense pleasure, saw the way he breathed deep through his nose as he tried to control himself. Her arms lay limp over his shoulders. She was completely absorbed in the feeling of him.
The panting, taut, shattering sensation that rippled over her - she was too full. Intimately stretched taut, almost so much that she was afraid of being hurt. Part of her wanted to tell him to get out, now, and leave her alone and... The other part of her, the part that answered the quiet question in his gaze dark with lust, just moaned and looked at him with eyes half-slitted, and arched her breasts against him, and felt a sultry seductive openness quicken inside of her.
His hands engulfed her ass; he was fantastically aware of the lean sleek power in the thighs that brushed his arms and clung to his waist. The little stud inset in her belly - hard, but warm with her warmth, he felt that too. The languor that had wrapped her, wet and deep rose and fragrant, like she was made of petals - it was because of him, he knew it. He let his forehead rest against hers and felt her breath on his mouth, and the drip of water from the tip of her nose. The heavy pound at his chest - was that his excitement, or hers.
"It's alright?"
Her arm tightened, lifted; her hand wrapped the back of his head. She dug her heels into his back, and even that motion drew a groan from her, and a sharp inhale from him.
"Just... go slow." Caution in her words, but also a fear that he would - somehow lose his nerve, if she didn't show him that it was okay. Past "okay." Doesn't live on the same scale as "okay." Don't stop.
"I will."
Relief and mercurial pleasure and hollowness rushed over her as soon as he withdrew, even as slowly and shallowly as he did. He didn't look anywhere but at her, and his body lifted against hers with his every deep, even, tightly controlled breath. His lips were slack; she could see the even white row of his teeth. Then everything went dark as he pressed into her again and her eyes slid shut almost by reflex.
So much friction, so warm between them. His fingers dug into the firm curve of her ass; hers tightened in his hair, over his shoulder - holding to him and taking a totally foreign pleasure in trusting him to take care of her. With each short stroke she felt herself opening for him, the pain of stretching around him fading, and in its place came a rain-soaked vital enjoyment.
He could feel it when she started to relax, and he buried his stupid answering overeagerness in long shivering breaths. His back felt tight as a drum as he eased inside her again, feeling her slick softness part for him and the clear sweet clench of internal muscles as she clung to him. He was more and more hungry with every stroke to just have done with the preliminaries and fuck her, but he knew - she'd tell him when she was ready for more. Do it soon, Farron.
He didn't have long to wait. Her tense breaths became low moans, her moans grew warmer and louder. She's a yeller, he thought, mutely surprised. ...Or she's going to be. Interrupting the gratifying distraction of these thoughts, she bucked against him, and turned her narrow heated blue-green gaze up at him. "Raines."
"Sergeant... Farron." He managed, pushing into her so deeply he could feel the soft fur of her touch his belly. He didn't try to look respectful.
She didn't try to conceal how good it felt, her eyelids shuttering and her quick pink tongue slipping out to touch the fullness of her upper lip. Her voice was hoarse with desire, low and commanding.
"I want to try your bed."
It took a moment for him to put thoughts together, but hard on that came ideas about taking her from behind, her wet hair on his pillows and her perfect ass up in the air. Her hot glare reflected her surprise when she felt him twich inside of her, though she likely didn't know the reason.
"Get the handle, then. My hands are full." His fingers rolled demonstratively under the weight of her.
"...Aren't you going to ... put me down?" She breathed.
"Now why would I do that?"
He shifted back and hissed at the superb feeling of her sagging against him and scrambling to tighten her thighs around him and wrap her arms over his shoulders. He didn't doubt that she'd compensate; she was fast and agile. In his arms she had a hard heaviness. It felt good to hold her.
"Cid..."
"Get the shower," He said softly against her ear, leaning a little so she could reach the control more easily. Her shifting weight and the slide of her breasts when she reached for the controls - it made her sink closer, lower, which pulled a deep rumble of pleasure from him.
Whirr.
It wasn't any trouble for him to carry her. She was wrapped around him and balanced as a blade, and as he took long sure strides to the bed, she started to paint damp kisses along the curve of his ear and jaw. The sun that shone through the skylights slid over her wet skin and disappeared into the darkness of his hair.
"Up or down, sergeant?"
"What?" Hard to care about what he was saying. The shoulders under her arms were palpably heavy and dense, and every time he moved, the muscles leapt under subtle unconscious control to keep her steady against him. An amazing realization. He was still inside her and that was also amazing; his strength was like a toy. He held her like she didn't weigh any more than a child.
"How do you want to be? On the bed."
For whatever reason she'd just assumed he would do what he wanted, and anything would have been good as long as it was more of this. But he was asking her what she wanted. Tough decisions when every nerve in her body was consumed by his warmth and size and masculinity. She licked her lips, squeezing around him. Less and less to be shy about all the time, but it was still hard to say what she meant.
"You're... you're on top, Raines."
His smile came and went in an instant as he set one knee on the bed. "Hold on."
The mattress was firm against her back, the sheets smooth - sheets only, not that she was paying much attention to it. He was careful and heavy when he covered her. She drew her knees up at once, her long legs folding over his back and tugging him closer. That honest impulse brought his easy grin back; he settled against her and petted her hair away from her face, and his hand traced her cheek and nestled between them.
He cupped her sleek breast again and rolled her nipple between his fingers. She was small and strong beneath him. His abdomen flexed against hers with a slow skimming thrill as he began to fill her again...
"I'm not gonna break." Warning and challenge and wish, all at once.
Took you long enough. His warm grip on her shifted. He got his hand under her hip and pinned her against his body and pressed his simmering smile against her mouth.
Her gasp like shattering glass lifted as he withdrew, almost to the point of leaving her completely, and sank back inside her with all his weight behind it. Urgent now, encouraged by need long restrained and hastened by her slippery wetness, he drove into her body; his shuddering breath broke against her cheek, his tongue dipped with disconcerting tenderness into her mouth. It was overwhelming and he was immense and when he bottomed out inside her she felt alien twinges of pain and pleasure mixed and if she stopped to think about it she might have been afraid but...
She didn't have to stop to think.
That was what she wanted: not to have to think about it. Laying open to him and feeling his hunger and letting him feel hers, everything locked away in this moment that didn't belong to Cocoon or Serah or anyone else. His every hard thrust pulled an answering cry from her. Her heels dug into his back, her hands fanned over the breadth of his shoulders and giddily drank the feel of him - but she couldn't stop herself from pulling at him. Closer. Harder, Cid. Her belly pulled taut as a cord as she began to curl up to meet his strokes.
His hot groan of satisfaction filled her mouth. She was slick and tight and she bucked against him, more unrestrained every second. She had beautiful eyes, bright predatory eyes, and he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't enjoy how openly her lust showed in them or how they would narrow, feral, when he sank deep in her. She clenched around him and her nails dug into his back. A hard sure panic shared between them as they made war on each other--
Abruptly the pressure at his shoulder released. Her hand snaked between them and he sucked in his breath to watch her: her neck arched, her soft lips parted, her thighs spread wide and fell open like a rose full blown. Her lithe fingers dug into the furrow of her labia and she felt her own slipperiness and heat, felt his surging thrusts and the crinkle of his dark hair. "....Cid!..." She cried, urgent heat in her voice.
"Go on."
He shifted onto his elbows, hanging easily over her. Her white throat open and vulnerable beneath him... his damp hair fell over it as he bent to her and sucked the pulse, panting against her sharp gasps, rutting into the lift of her hips. So swollen within her, he felt every glide of her like a deep itch soothed and slapped. Her eyes squeezed shut. She seized him with her legs and locked him so tight against her that it was hard to keep moving.
"Ah... ahh..." Her fingers rubbing quick and light, his heavy body drowning her and filling her... She pushed up against him in intense need and fell apart. Shaking, crying out, arching up to grab him and drag him into her hard kiss, she demanded satisfaction from him and his strength and heat. He did not fail her.
As the tension of her body unwound in brilliant spasms, he ground his hips against her, nursing her orgasm and letting the grip of her body suck at him. He only managed to thrust once, twice - then a flood undammed, he let the rush take him. He shoved into her and jerked and felt his cock pulsing and it was so good that he groaned out her name without meaning to when he fell against her. Her true name, the one on the dossier.
In her exhausted saturation of pleasure, she neither noticed nor minded.
He sprawled on his back over the sheets, still breathing hard and overheated. Lightning, too, needed some space to cool off and unwind limbs sore with unaccustomed strain. Still, conscious of their terms of engagement, he reached out to her and rested his knuckles against her cheek. The caress was both soothing and annoying; as her wits returned to her, she felt overstimulated beyond belief and unsure about what, if anything, had changed now.
No.
Nothing had changed, not really. Her mission hadn't changed. The Primarch was waiting for her, whether he knew it or not. She had Snow and Hope to watch over - the one a hopeless romantic, the other too young not to try so hard. Fang had to answer for her crimes. Sazh and Vanille had to be rescued. Cocoon had waited a few extra minutes for her, but her team was probably already in the ship. Everyone was waiting on her.
Hissing a little at the twinge and discomfort of sitting up, she was already starting to slide from the bed when he looked over at her in surprise. He was lazily outstretched and profoundly satisfied, and the idea of getting up and doing anything seemed - hasty.
"Where are you going?" He asked it with genuine warmth and interest.
"Shuttle's waiting, Raines."
At that he looked almost confused, like she'd reached over and slapped him. "...But - Sergeant..." Had he done something wrong? Said the wrong thing? What was her rush? Her mission - but -
It just didn't seem that important.
And she in turn looked shocked that he didn't get it. She slid from the bed, walking tenatively and bare-assed to the bathroom to clean up for real this time.
"Look, Raines... Cid. I..." She stopped at the door, gazing back at him, half resolved and half anxious. Hard to be anxious right now. But there was so much to say and no words in her vocabulary for thank you, that was the most incredible sex I've ever had, but I need to get going. We both need to get going. We need to stay focused. It was easy to guide Hope, but Cid didn't need guidance. He just - apparently - wanted something she couldn't give him right now. That was too much to admit.
Her tangled hair fell over her shoulder and a warm flush still pinked her cheeks and her mouth; she licked her lips, and finally she said, "Look... I'll be back." The bathroom door shut behind her.
It was cheap, an escape. She'd have to apologize to him later.
He was already dressed when she emerged dressed and ready. Guarded regret in his eyes and his black hair in an unprofessional tangle, he was waiting at the portal to the hallway. "Farron."
She wanted to be cool when she passed him, but the sunlight on his cheek and his broad shoulder felt too familiar. Already too familiar; is this how it had been for Serah. She reached up, hesitant at first, and laid her hand over his broad chest. She lingered only a moment, then patted him, and turned to go. He didn't follow.
It wasn't until the shuttlecraft had docked - after the battle that greeted them there - that she realized there had been a dark mark on the back of his hand.
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PP here
Date: 2010-03-24 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-24 04:35 am (UTC)is
amazing