(no subject)
Yo, it's just me again. I've actually finished something!
It's only been sitting in my notebook for two months.
Title: Blame It
Word count: OpenOffice says 1,712.
Rating: M, for blatant mentioning of drinking, masturbation and an all-around horny Zack. >3
Prompt: That stupid song by Jamie Foxx.
Disclaimers: Uh, I don't own anything. Just my ideas.
Zack usually made it a point to never drink alone. For one, what fun was it to not have anyone to laugh at when they started dancing around in their underwear? And two … well, it was generally just more enjoyable when someone else was around. Only losers drank alone. Like … he was pretty sure Tseng drank alone. Tseng was … kind of creepy. Really quiet, kept mostly to himself. The kind of person you'd expect to snap and start shooting when he was already having a bad day, and the vending machine decided to eat his last few gil … yeah. Creepy to say the least.
Then again, that might just be why he was the leader of the Turks. One could never be too sure.
Zack sighed, grumbled to himself. There he was, sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a wifebeater, staring at the half-empty six-pack of PBR on the coffee table. The TV was on in he background but he wasn't really paying attention - something about President Shinra expanding the Weapons Development Department. Why was that even news? Shinra was always expanding the Weapons Department. Why don't you expand the budget for SOLDIER training equipment, you old bastard … we've been running the same drills and simulations for months now.
… So now he was sitting on the couch in a pair of boxers and a wifebeater, staring at the half-empty six-pack of PBR on the coffee table and complaining. This was exactly why he never drank alone. He was fucking bored.
I could … always jack off … His mind was pleasantly fuzzy around the edges - even though he'd only had three beers - so it seemed like a perfectly good idea. Cheap alcohol always got him buzzing quicker than that high-end stuff … which made life much simpler, seeing as SOLDIER 1st Classes didn't get paid as much as they wanted everyone to believe. It was kind of a bad joke, really, but what could he do?
He'd have to ask Sephiroth if Firsts ever got raises once they'd been promoted … it didn't seem like such an unlikely idea, really, but where Shinra was concerned …
He stroked himself lightly through his boxers, a soft, broken groan slipping past parted lips at the action. He was already hard … what was it about the alcohol that always made him so horny? It was … just one of life's little mysteries, he supposed. It wasn't like he really cared. Gave him an excuse to get off, it did - and a damn good one, at that. He couldn't very well walk around with a hard-on every time he got plastered, could he? Of course not. He might start knocking things over and then even more of his paycheck would be garnished …
Skimming off the top, my ass. I'd be in debt until I was a hundred.
He sank a bit lower on the couch, dipping a hand beneath the elastic waistband, completely unashamed. It was his nature, after all - modesty had never been one of his strong points. He found a steady rhythm, head tipping back as another moan broke free. His ears were ringing in the most delightful way, a clear sign that the beer was doing its job, and doing it well. He purred softly in the back of his throat, completely content.
The best things in life … really are free.
He was almost there, almost to the breaking point when there was a knock at the door. “I-I'm busy!” His voice cracked just the smallest bit, so he tried again, forcing his breathing to slow. “Come … come back later!”
“Zack?” The muffled voice was soft and familiar. “It's Cloud …”
Shit. Fuckshitdamnhell.
“Uh … gimme a second …” He pushed himself off the couch and sprinted to the bedroom for a pair of pants - something, anything to diminish the bulge in his boxers. The monstrous pile of laundry in the middle of the floor met him with a sadistic grin and he cursed again, reaching blindly into the abyss and extracting a dismally disgusting pair of jeans. The knock came again and he all but whimpered pathetically, yanking them up on his hips so quickly that he almost fell over. “I'm coming! H-hold on!”
The inert pile was laughing at him. He was sure of it - but when he looked back, naturally, nothing had moved and there was no hint of laughter whatsoever. I'm watching you, laundry. He squinted one blue eye, staring at it skeptically. It remained positively lifeless. That's what I thought. He turned on his heel as the knock came again, more insistent than the first.
Why the hell is it so hard to walk straight?
… Oh, right.
He tripped a few more times, finally having the frame of mind to brace himself against the wall and take smaller, less exaggerated steps. Pausing before the door, he took a deep, mind-clearing breath and looked down - only to groan inwardly when he noticed that the bulge in his pants was even more prominent in stiff, dingy denim. He'd just … he'd hide behind the door! That was it!
That, of course, meant that he couldn't let Cloud inside … which was far from any normal sort of behavior … but when you're desperate …
Zack sighed, shoulders slumping. I just hope he doesn't ask questions. Please, Spike, don't ask questions …
He reached for the doorknob, twisting it sharply and pulling the door open a bare few inches. He then poked his head through the gap, all flushed cheeks and bleary eyes. “Yeees?”
Cloud peered up at him strangely, blond brows knit together above bright eyes masked with innocent curiosity. “Um … hi.” He blinked once, looked down at the floor. “Did I catch you at a bad time, or something?”
The older boy shook his head. “Mm, no, of course not.” His hips pressed flush against the door, pressure building in the most delightful way and bringing an audible groan of pleasure to the surface. Oh, this is bad … badbad … but if I move a little to the right I can hit the groove just under the handle … ohthat'sgood. He shook his head, some slightly clearer portion of his brain telling him to stop humping the fucking door - he coughed, shit-eating grin stealing across his mouth. “Sup, Spike?”
The blond shrugged, raking a hand back through his hair nervously. “Nothing, I … I just wanted to stop by … we finished running some practice drills and I wasn't really ready to go back to my room yet …” He looked up again, cocking his head to the side. “Zack, are you sure you're okay?”
Say something. Zack, say something. The presence of the door in front of him was horribly distracting, with its smooth surface and deep indentions - You're such a sexy door … yes you are … He blinked, and froze almost instantly. Did I just think that? Fucking christ, I'm never drinking again …”Huh? No, I'm fine, really … just maybe a little … hey, why are you still in the hallway?”
No! Nonono!
“Um … because you haven't asked me in yet, I guess?” Cloud shrugged again, looking increasingly uncomfortable, visibly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Zack grinned and hooked a finger through one of the cadet's belt loops. “Since when did I ever have to ask you in?”
Zack Fair, you're going to hell. You're going to hell for being a horrible person.
His mind was trying to rationalize even as he tugged the blond into his living room and pushed the door shut, trying desperately to compensate for his complete lack of judgment as he pressed close against that small, slender body. He purred deep in the back of his throat as Cloud stiffened, back flush against the door, eyes wide. “Hi,” he drawled softly, reaching up with slightly trembling fingers to trace the line of his jaw, the side of his throat.
The blond shivered, pale lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes slipped closed for a fraction of a second before his breath hitched and he rested the palm of one small hand against the other's chest. “Zack … you're drunk, aren't you?” The older boy chuckled softly under his breath and nuzzled even closer, lips ghosting over the shell of an ear as a hand settled at his hip, blunt fingernails scratching lightly at his skin beneath the hem of his shirt.
“Mm … maybe a little …” He inhaled deeply, giving a soft moan as the hand at the other's hip shifted a little lower. “You smell good …”
Cloud went completely rigid, eyes snapping open. “Zack Fair!”
He straightened immediately, shoulders squared, heels together. “Sir!” The blond couldn't help laughing, pressing close again and kissing his chin. “At ease, soldier …” He traced the hard lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric of the tank, drifting lower until his fingertips brushed the bulge at the front of his jeans. He smirked. “Did you start without me?”
Zack frowned, brows coming together above blue eyes a bit clearer than they had been previously. “Huh?”
“You did …” He stroked him softly through the denim, peering up at him from beneath a fringe of pale blond hair. He took in that dazed stare, subtly parted lips as another low moan betrayed him, and his smirk widened. “The things you do to amuse yourself when I'm not around …”
He lifted himself onto his toes and kissed him, teeth catching the corner of a full bottom lip and tugging lightly. Zack all but crumbled, the breath he'd been holding escaping in an audible whoosh as his tongue darted out to taste the salt of the other's skin.
Going to hell … going to hell … fuck, I don't even care anymore. The blond whimpered beneath him, and he shivered. If I can just hear that again, I'll go willingly.
And now that it's 4:30 in the morning, I'm going to bed. -passes out-
Cross-posted.
It's only been sitting in my notebook for two months.
Title: Blame It
Word count: OpenOffice says 1,712.
Rating: M, for blatant mentioning of drinking, masturbation and an all-around horny Zack. >3
Prompt: That stupid song by Jamie Foxx.
Disclaimers: Uh, I don't own anything. Just my ideas.
Zack usually made it a point to never drink alone. For one, what fun was it to not have anyone to laugh at when they started dancing around in their underwear? And two … well, it was generally just more enjoyable when someone else was around. Only losers drank alone. Like … he was pretty sure Tseng drank alone. Tseng was … kind of creepy. Really quiet, kept mostly to himself. The kind of person you'd expect to snap and start shooting when he was already having a bad day, and the vending machine decided to eat his last few gil … yeah. Creepy to say the least.
Then again, that might just be why he was the leader of the Turks. One could never be too sure.
Zack sighed, grumbled to himself. There he was, sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a wifebeater, staring at the half-empty six-pack of PBR on the coffee table. The TV was on in he background but he wasn't really paying attention - something about President Shinra expanding the Weapons Development Department. Why was that even news? Shinra was always expanding the Weapons Department. Why don't you expand the budget for SOLDIER training equipment, you old bastard … we've been running the same drills and simulations for months now.
… So now he was sitting on the couch in a pair of boxers and a wifebeater, staring at the half-empty six-pack of PBR on the coffee table and complaining. This was exactly why he never drank alone. He was fucking bored.
I could … always jack off … His mind was pleasantly fuzzy around the edges - even though he'd only had three beers - so it seemed like a perfectly good idea. Cheap alcohol always got him buzzing quicker than that high-end stuff … which made life much simpler, seeing as SOLDIER 1st Classes didn't get paid as much as they wanted everyone to believe. It was kind of a bad joke, really, but what could he do?
He'd have to ask Sephiroth if Firsts ever got raises once they'd been promoted … it didn't seem like such an unlikely idea, really, but where Shinra was concerned …
He stroked himself lightly through his boxers, a soft, broken groan slipping past parted lips at the action. He was already hard … what was it about the alcohol that always made him so horny? It was … just one of life's little mysteries, he supposed. It wasn't like he really cared. Gave him an excuse to get off, it did - and a damn good one, at that. He couldn't very well walk around with a hard-on every time he got plastered, could he? Of course not. He might start knocking things over and then even more of his paycheck would be garnished …
Skimming off the top, my ass. I'd be in debt until I was a hundred.
He sank a bit lower on the couch, dipping a hand beneath the elastic waistband, completely unashamed. It was his nature, after all - modesty had never been one of his strong points. He found a steady rhythm, head tipping back as another moan broke free. His ears were ringing in the most delightful way, a clear sign that the beer was doing its job, and doing it well. He purred softly in the back of his throat, completely content.
The best things in life … really are free.
He was almost there, almost to the breaking point when there was a knock at the door. “I-I'm busy!” His voice cracked just the smallest bit, so he tried again, forcing his breathing to slow. “Come … come back later!”
“Zack?” The muffled voice was soft and familiar. “It's Cloud …”
Shit. Fuckshitdamnhell.
“Uh … gimme a second …” He pushed himself off the couch and sprinted to the bedroom for a pair of pants - something, anything to diminish the bulge in his boxers. The monstrous pile of laundry in the middle of the floor met him with a sadistic grin and he cursed again, reaching blindly into the abyss and extracting a dismally disgusting pair of jeans. The knock came again and he all but whimpered pathetically, yanking them up on his hips so quickly that he almost fell over. “I'm coming! H-hold on!”
The inert pile was laughing at him. He was sure of it - but when he looked back, naturally, nothing had moved and there was no hint of laughter whatsoever. I'm watching you, laundry. He squinted one blue eye, staring at it skeptically. It remained positively lifeless. That's what I thought. He turned on his heel as the knock came again, more insistent than the first.
Why the hell is it so hard to walk straight?
… Oh, right.
He tripped a few more times, finally having the frame of mind to brace himself against the wall and take smaller, less exaggerated steps. Pausing before the door, he took a deep, mind-clearing breath and looked down - only to groan inwardly when he noticed that the bulge in his pants was even more prominent in stiff, dingy denim. He'd just … he'd hide behind the door! That was it!
That, of course, meant that he couldn't let Cloud inside … which was far from any normal sort of behavior … but when you're desperate …
Zack sighed, shoulders slumping. I just hope he doesn't ask questions. Please, Spike, don't ask questions …
He reached for the doorknob, twisting it sharply and pulling the door open a bare few inches. He then poked his head through the gap, all flushed cheeks and bleary eyes. “Yeees?”
Cloud peered up at him strangely, blond brows knit together above bright eyes masked with innocent curiosity. “Um … hi.” He blinked once, looked down at the floor. “Did I catch you at a bad time, or something?”
The older boy shook his head. “Mm, no, of course not.” His hips pressed flush against the door, pressure building in the most delightful way and bringing an audible groan of pleasure to the surface. Oh, this is bad … badbad … but if I move a little to the right I can hit the groove just under the handle … ohthat'sgood. He shook his head, some slightly clearer portion of his brain telling him to stop humping the fucking door - he coughed, shit-eating grin stealing across his mouth. “Sup, Spike?”
The blond shrugged, raking a hand back through his hair nervously. “Nothing, I … I just wanted to stop by … we finished running some practice drills and I wasn't really ready to go back to my room yet …” He looked up again, cocking his head to the side. “Zack, are you sure you're okay?”
Say something. Zack, say something. The presence of the door in front of him was horribly distracting, with its smooth surface and deep indentions - You're such a sexy door … yes you are … He blinked, and froze almost instantly. Did I just think that? Fucking christ, I'm never drinking again …”Huh? No, I'm fine, really … just maybe a little … hey, why are you still in the hallway?”
No! Nonono!
“Um … because you haven't asked me in yet, I guess?” Cloud shrugged again, looking increasingly uncomfortable, visibly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Zack grinned and hooked a finger through one of the cadet's belt loops. “Since when did I ever have to ask you in?”
Zack Fair, you're going to hell. You're going to hell for being a horrible person.
His mind was trying to rationalize even as he tugged the blond into his living room and pushed the door shut, trying desperately to compensate for his complete lack of judgment as he pressed close against that small, slender body. He purred deep in the back of his throat as Cloud stiffened, back flush against the door, eyes wide. “Hi,” he drawled softly, reaching up with slightly trembling fingers to trace the line of his jaw, the side of his throat.
The blond shivered, pale lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his eyes slipped closed for a fraction of a second before his breath hitched and he rested the palm of one small hand against the other's chest. “Zack … you're drunk, aren't you?” The older boy chuckled softly under his breath and nuzzled even closer, lips ghosting over the shell of an ear as a hand settled at his hip, blunt fingernails scratching lightly at his skin beneath the hem of his shirt.
“Mm … maybe a little …” He inhaled deeply, giving a soft moan as the hand at the other's hip shifted a little lower. “You smell good …”
Cloud went completely rigid, eyes snapping open. “Zack Fair!”
He straightened immediately, shoulders squared, heels together. “Sir!” The blond couldn't help laughing, pressing close again and kissing his chin. “At ease, soldier …” He traced the hard lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric of the tank, drifting lower until his fingertips brushed the bulge at the front of his jeans. He smirked. “Did you start without me?”
Zack frowned, brows coming together above blue eyes a bit clearer than they had been previously. “Huh?”
“You did …” He stroked him softly through the denim, peering up at him from beneath a fringe of pale blond hair. He took in that dazed stare, subtly parted lips as another low moan betrayed him, and his smirk widened. “The things you do to amuse yourself when I'm not around …”
He lifted himself onto his toes and kissed him, teeth catching the corner of a full bottom lip and tugging lightly. Zack all but crumbled, the breath he'd been holding escaping in an audible whoosh as his tongue darted out to taste the salt of the other's skin.
Going to hell … going to hell … fuck, I don't even care anymore. The blond whimpered beneath him, and he shivered. If I can just hear that again, I'll go willingly.
And now that it's 4:30 in the morning, I'm going to bed. -passes out-
Cross-posted.