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Saying Thanks, Turk Style	By : mizperceived Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 812 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own FF7, nor do I make a profit from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Saying Thanks, Turk Style
- 2-Turks Style Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Feeling his heart pulse in his throat, Tseng narrowed his gaze sharply and shoved the older man away from him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” The Director spat and he smoothed back some hair that had fallen over his chest as he was pushing Vincent away. Tseng proceeded to straighten out his uniform, normally it was an unconscious habit of his but this time it served more as a distraction from having to admit that Vincent Valentine had cornered him in an elevator.
Realizing that the elevator wasn’t moving, Tseng looked up and glared at Vincent before reaching into his inner coat pocket to pull out his cell phone.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m calling someone to get us out of here. You shot the damn controls!” Tseng’s infamous control was uncharacteristically wearing thin in the small confined space. The Wutain didn’t get a chance to press a key on his phone before a golden gauntlet covered hand latched onto his wrist and pinned it to the wall.
“There is no need for such action,” Vincent murmured as he crowded the man again. “Where were you going?”
Tseng looked at the other man and scowled. He knew Vincent was smirking at him behind the cowl and the Director itched to rip that cowl down and suck on the pouty lips that were hidden. Tseng tensed as the thought struck him. “My apartment,” he replied automatically as his eyes locked onto the spot where the gunner’s lips would be behind the cape.
“Then that is where we will deal with this,” Vincent replied. The thinly veiled command caused the younger man to bristle. He was the one to give orders, not take them. He barely took orders from Rufus at that. Noticing the small plumes of white smoke coming from the elevator console Tseng turned his gaze back to the taller man.
“I think not. One, I didn’t invite you and two, the elevator is stuck thanks to you,” he sneered as he struggled to get out of Vincent’s grip.
“I can remedy that easily,” Vincent said calmly as he drew out Cerberus once again and took aim at the console box and fired a single round. When Tseng just stared half in awe and half in some other emotion he couldn’t name Vincent simply stated, “Nomura’s Law of Physics,” and just like that the elevator once again began its ascent to the top floor.
Vincent let go of Tseng’s wrist and folded his arms across his chest as he quietly studied the man next to him. He could tell just by looking at the Director that the man was plotting and planning in his head. Vincent relished the thought that Tseng would not go down easily, that he was worthy of being called a Turk, The Director no less. Oh yes, Vincent would definitely get the man to show him how thankful he was.
As the doors began to slide open, Tseng sprung into action. He deftly kicked out Vincent’s legs from underneath him as the Wutain dropped down and hit the man with a low sweep kick. The younger quickly stood up to rush out of the elevator; left foot was just clearing the closing doors as he felt sharp pinpricks poke through his calf. Tseng looked down in shock as he watched the elevator doors close on Vincent’s gauntlet before gently sliding back open. The gunner, lying prone on the elevator floor openly glared at the Turk before roughly pulling his metal clad arm back, causing Tseng to lose his balance and fall backwards. Thankfully his posterior and back received most of the blow but the wind was knocked out of him. Vincent took advantage of the opening and scrambled to climb over the Wutain.
“Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily,” Vincent leaned into the curve of the younger man’s neck and breathed deeply. “Tseng,” he purred as he looked back at the man. He knew by the gasp the Wutain made that his eyes were glowing slightly. Tseng repressed a shiver that threatened to run through his body. In an instant, Vincent stood up and pulled the man flush against him.
“You will not run away again. You will show me exactly how thankful you are for me saving your miserable life last year,” Vincent uttered before wrapping his gauntlet around Tseng’s throat lightly. “Or I will end it. Do I make myself clear?”
Tseng could only slightly nod in response. Self preservation had kicked in and he knew to survive whatever Vincent had planned he would have to be complacent and comply until a good opening appeared. Tseng had been in this situation too many times to remember since the day he became a Turk and knew every trick to turn the tables on his captor. The problem this time was that his captor wasn’t some pissant off the street. It was Vincent fucking Valentine, a former Turk. No, he was not just a former Turk but also the man who helped create the standard operation procedures (SoP) on being in hostage situations. It’s what Vincent excelled in, how to get capture and how to escape.
Vincent growled at Tseng as the younger man chuckled slightly.
“What’s so funny?”
Trying to pry the golden talons away from his throat, Tseng responded, “just remembered how you wrote the book on how to get free from being held captive but you failed miserably when it came to Hojo of all people.” Tseng choked on the last word as the gauntlet squeezed tighter.
“You forgot rule number one. Never, ever piss off your captor,” Vincent sneered as he pushed Tseng down the hall towards what he assumed was the direction the man’s apartment was in.
Tseng looked up into the security camera briefly before moving towards his door. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Vincent who pressed himself dangerously close to Tseng’s back. This time Tseng couldn’t suppress his body’s reaction to the man behind him. Feeling Vincent’s breath ruffling strands of his inky hair, caressing the back of his ear had him involuntarily close his eyes. The heat the gunner was giving off radiated outwards and curled around the Director’s frame like a welcoming embrace. Tseng fought for control to keep him from leaning back into the man.
“Having trouble?” Tseng could hear the smile in the deep baritone that rumbled in his ear.
“I got it,” Tseng snapped back as the lock finally unfurled and the door was ready to be opened. The Director placed his right palm on the door to push it open and to allow Vincent to enter before him but the gunner thought better of that and shoved the shorter man in ahead of him.
Catching his balance before he crashed into his 2^nd Dynasty Wutainese vase, Tseng wheeled around and lost the last of his control.
“What the fuck if your malfunction Valentine?”
Vincent glared at Tseng before he moved passed the man and wandered into the Director’s living room. “I told you, I’m tired of your,” he paused before his voice dripped with disdain, “gifts. If you insist on showing me your gratitude, you will do so the only way I will accept.”
Tseng frowned when he heard the acidic tone the ex-Turk used. The gifts that he had sent Vincent were perfect. Tseng had gone to great lengths and called in several favors to get them and here this man was throwing them back into his face. Feeling insulted, the Director mustered up some righteous indignation as he took the part of aggressor and stood toe to toe with the gunner.
“If you recall I had asked you how I could show my gratitude and you brushed me off. Excuse me if I attempted to show some good will to the man that saved my life. What, pray tell, does your pretty demonic head want from me?”
Vincent didn’t say one word. He didn’t have to his actions spoke volumes. The crimson eyed wonder closed the distance between the two of them, his human hand shooting out to grab Tseng by the collar as his gauntlet tangled in loose raven colored locks. His lips decended and brushed against the others once, twice before pressing firmly against them. Vincent pulled back slightly, just enough that when he spoke, his lips still moved against Tseng’s in a faint caress.
“Now do you understand what I meant when I said I couldn’t ask for anything from you? This is what I want, have wanted for years but you were so reserved,” he ran his hand down Tseng’s chest, plucking the buttons off of the shirt one by one. “The perfect little assassin, The Director,” his whispered as his lips grazed Tseng’s cheek. The Wutain was dumbfounded momentarily as the actions shook him but he quickly caught up and began working on the buckles of Vincent’s cape.
“Bedroom,” Tseng mumbled as his tie was sliced off of his neck and added to the discarded and increasing pile of clothing and weaponry. The older man could only nod in agreeance as they pushed and pulled each other down the darkened corridor in the apartment. If Tseng was in the right mind and the blood was flowing normally, he would muse that it appeared that Vincent knew the layout of his apartment better than he did, but this wasn’t normal, having his clothes being toward to shreds as those skillful lips latched onto the spot right under the jawbone but his right here caused his legs to buckle under him.
Vincent easily picked up the Wutain with a smile ghosting across his face. He carried the man into the bedroom before depositing his prey on the bed. Tseng wasn’t given a moment’s reprieve before golden talons scratched down his abdominal muscles, causing tiny spots of blood to come to the surface, he hissed as the slight wounds were greeted by cool air rushing over them. Vincent ripped the Turks pants and boxers off of the man with force before leaning down and licking up the rivulets of blood.
Tseng arched into the feel of the gunner’s tongue laving across the taut skin of his stomach and pelvic area. The cool air of the bedroom was a sweet as a lover’s caress against his heated flesh as Vincent revealed more and more of the Wutain’s skin to his heated gaze.
Vincent marveled at how Tseng submitted to him without a fight but knew that if given the opportunity the younger man could and possibly would turn the tables on him. Not willing to risk such a thing from happening, Vincent moved off of the panting body and fished out the long box from his pocket. Gliding back up the welcoming body, the gunner grabbed the Director’s wrists, moving his hands above their heads. With a wicked gleam in his crimson colored eyes, Vincent grasped both of Tseng’s wrists in his gauntlet as he flipped open the box and pulled out the collar. With efficient motions he wrapped the collar around the younger man’s wrists and through the slats of the headboard and buckled the leather together all the while his tongue was exploring the mouth below him, tasting and savoring Tseng.
Vincent pulled away from the kiss, sitting atop of Tseng’s waist, only clad in his partially opened leather pants, thus allowing his partner to salivate at the sight of the light dusting of dark hair that disappeared into the tight confines of the material.
“Like what you see?” Vincent asked as he unwound the sash that criss-crossed his forehead allowing his dark hair to fall down around him.
Tseng shifted his hips up, grinding his naked body into the partially clothed man above him. “I always have,” he moaned as Vincent moved closer down on him, the strip of red leather held in his hand. That gave the demonic host pause.
“Always?” he asked just to be certain as he covered the Wutain’s with the material, tying it off behind the man’s head.
A moment of panic seized Tseng as his vision was cut off, quelling it as best as he could he licked his dry lips as he nodded slightly in response.
“I see,” Vincent murmured as he scooted off of the naked man. “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully.
Instinctively knowing what Vincent was thinking about, Tseng assisted Vincent and informed him that was he sought was in the bedside table. Hovering somewhere over Tseng, Vincent’s voice ghosted over the man as he began questioning him.
“I never knew you had a predilection for men, Director. This is very interesting,” he whispered before gliding his tongue up the erect shaft betwixt the other man’s legs.
“If I knew,” he gasped, “that you knowing would lead to... nngh... this mu-much sooner. Oh fuck yes. I would ha-ha-haaaaaved. Oh,” Tseng moaned as Vincent took his entire length into his mouth. Wanting to draw out the torture, the gunner lifted his head up, letting the thick length fall out of mouth.
“Would have what?”
“Vincent,” the Director growled in frustration.
“Tell me or I’ll leave you like this.”
“I would have thanked you in a very different way a year ago,” he said with his blindfold-covered face tilted at an arrogant angle.
“Well now, no time like the present,” Vincent muttered before moving away from the man again. The younger man craned his neck around, listening intently for any sounds that helped him ascertain where Vincent was in his room. He heard the whisper soft sound of buttery soft leather pants sliding down flesh and the distinct click of a bottle top popping open and then closing.
Tseng mentally prepared himself for what was to come. It had been a while for him to participate in any sexual activity. He made an effort to pull his legs up, bending them at the knee and spreading his legs wide, opening himself up to the other man. The Turk arched a questioning eyebrow as he heard Vincent slight chuckle before the bed dipped under the gunner’s added weight.
“Ready?” Vincent asked and waited for Tseng to nod.
Tseng was prepared for anything but what happened next.
Vincent climbed on top of Tseng and grasped the pulsating erection in a vice like grip, coating it in the lubricant before he slowly impaled himself. He waited until he was seated fully, the bowed his head forward, letting his hair drift across the muscular chest below him.
“Vincent,” Tseng croaked as the man began to move in a painstakingly slow speed. “Please.”
“Please?”
“Let me touch you. Let me see you,” he sighed. Biting his lip in indecision for a moment, Vincent leaned down to tangle his tongue with Tseng’s as he released the man’s wrists from the confined of the dog collar. Tseng’s hands immediately speared into Vincent’s hair as his hips began pumping upwards in an ancient rhythm.
The violent motion of Tseng’s thrusts unbalanced Vincent as he fell forward, now pressed chest to chest with Tseng. The older man pushed up the blindfold and stared into the deep chocolate covered eyes of the man below him. What he saw there threw him over the precipice of completion.
Digging his fingers into Vincent’s hips, Tseng redoubled his efforts as he pumped his member deep inside of Vincent joining the older man in a mind-blowing orgasm.
xXx
“What’s this?” Tseng had lifted up the dog collar that Vincent had tossed aside earlier in their first round of sweat inducing, mind numbing sex.
Vincent looked up from his resting spot, his head on Tseng’s chest, listening to the steady beat and growled slightly.
“You know exactly what it is. You sent it to me as a thank you gift this morning,” he accused.
“I did no such thing,” Tseng countered as he sat up, causing Vincent to do likewise. “I sent Reno to 7^th Heaven to give Cloud a keycard to give to you.”
“A… keycard?”
“Yes, it’s clearance for you to get into your records. I figured you refused the invitations to use our shooting range before, as well as the offer to train the newest Turks. It was the last thing I could think of as a show of my gratitude to you,” Tseng calmly ticked off all of the gifts he had sent to Vincent of the past couple of months.
“You… didn’t send me the vampire clock? The chainsaw?” Looking at each other with matching expressions, realization suddenly dawned on them.
“Reno,” both groaned.

A/N: I was at 1400 words before the actual “good” stuff began. Do you KNOW how hard it was for me not to break it up into another tease chapter? GAH! But seeing how I love ya Tseng/Vincent fans I had to deliver.
FYI: I decided to turn this into a series that will be published separately. Look for the following sometime in the near future:
Saying Thanks, SOLDIER Style = Zangeal

Saying Thanks, Shinra Style = Rufus/Reno

Saying Thanks, Avalanche Style = Tifa/Cloud/Aerith (first yuri and 3some het fic)

Saying Thanks, Villain Style = Sephesis
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Saying Thanks, Turk Style