Night Sweats
Night Sweats
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or settings of Final Fantasy VII. They are the sole creative property of SquareEnix. I do however own my insanity and perversity. Nor do I make a profit from this endeavor, I will however gain carpal tunnel syndrome eventually.
Title: Night Sweats
Warnings: It’s nothing more than glorified PWP. Yeaaaah.
Rating: M for sMutty!
Pairings: Tseng/Vincent err Vincent/Tseng
Summary: None. Just read it, yo!
Night Sweats
It may have been around the midnight hour, hell the warehouse for the most part was actually abandoned but they knew better. They should not have been doing that while in here and on a mission. Vincent snickered slightly as the thought crossed his mind but really when one had the impressive length and thickness of the Director of the Department of Administrative “Research” (read: torture, assassination and all around mayhem) cock thrusting in and out of your abused ass, trivial things like engaging in intercourse while on a stakeout didn’t matter.
Gripping Vincent’s chin sharply, Tseng held the gunner’s gaze as he growled at the man. “What the fuck is so funny?” Vincent tried to reply, opening his mouth again and again but only to have it snap shut with every jarring stab at his prostate. The Wutain’s hips were pistoning at a bruising pace as his fingers dug into the fleshy backs of the red-eyed gunner’s upper thighs. Vincent gripped a sturdy copper pipe located above his head. The pipe ran the length of the warehouse and was able to bear most of the gunner’s weight while Tseng held the man’s legs wrapped around his waist. “I was… ngh… fuck. I was laughing thinking how we’re… fuck me. MORE,” Vincent groaned out. His sentence forgotten among the distinct sounds of their coupling. “Oh I’ll give you more. Let go,” Tseng instructed as Vincent’s arms released their grip from the pipe and encircled the Director’s neck. Tseng then spun both of them around and pressed Vincent’s back up against the wall of the desolate warehouse and quickly resumed his punishing pace. Tseng intentionally ignored Vincent’s weeping cock and slapped Vincent’s hands away each time they reached downwards. In retaliation for not allowing Vincent to handle himself, he bore down and squeezed his inner muscles, choking Tseng’s cock. With a harsh grunt, Tseng spilled his seed inside the tight heat of Vincent’s body. Slowly he released Vincent’s legs and pulled out. The gunner looked at his lover with indignation, was he just going to leave him unsatisfied? “Your turn,” Tseng whispered as they kissed. Vincent’s eyes snapped down to his cock then back up to Tseng as a slight smirk marred his pale face. “Turn around,” Vincent murmured as clawed fingers dragged across the flushed skin of the Wutain. xXx The raven haired man bolted up right from a sound sleep and his heart pounding in his ears, slight disorientated. ‘Was it only a dream?’ he thought. Feeling an unusual wetness, he lifted up the sheet and saw the effect of his dream and groaned slightly. Using the back of his hand he wiped away the slight sheen of sweat from his forehead as he turned his head to look at the alarm clock. Three a.m. Shit. “Back to sleep.” Though the words were muffled, the dark haired man had to agree with the blonde sleeping next to him. He had a long day awaiting him. He would be going on a joint training mission with… him, his co-star from his sexually explosive dreams. He was fucked. “Nightmare?” the disembodied voice next to him asked suddenly as he felt the blondes hand run down his torso. “No,” the older man answered truthfully. “…bout me,” the voice chuckled before rolling back over and falling asleep again. “Yeah,” the older one, not fully hearing what the blonde said, let the lie slip easily. He was so fucked.A/N: Wonder who had the wet dream. Hmmm. Who do you think it was?
Short and sweet and lemon-y eh?