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A Lazy Ocean Hugs the Shore	By : Kassi Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 976 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and its characters, places, and situations are (C) copyright Square Enix. They are reproduced here for non-commercial entertainment. All other material is mine.

Chapter List
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Seeing The Promised Land through Tifa’s eyes thrilled Rude to no end. After months of waiting for the right moment, he’d finally gotten the chance to socially engineer a smile on that mopey face. The one he’d once wanted to take off his gloves and memorize with his fingertips.
He hadn’t had any other particular agenda in mind—her joy was pleasure enough for him—right up until he saw her stiffen and swiveled to look at who had just arrived. Mako-blue eyes stared at them both, his already-pale face drained to white, mouth hanging open. As if someone had just told Cloud that Sephiroth would be dropping in later with his silver-haired boy-toy posse.
Seeing him without his composure, fine blond spikes glittering in the colored light, in the least likely of places, thumped through Rude even stronger than the bass. He lifted a hand to beckon Cloud over, since Tifa was clearly paralyzed with shock.
That Cloud obeyed made Rude even warmer under sweat-slick skin. He reached up, about to loosen his tie, thought better of it and straightened it instead.
“Cloud!” said Tifa. “What are you doing here?”
The poor man’s eyes flicked from her to Rude as pink colored his face.
“Haven’t seen you here before,” the Turk offered more casually. “First time?”
Cloud nodded, remained standing in awkward silence. He watched with pinched brows as Tifa rapidly drained a glass and picked up another. Rude had enormous sympathy for both. Tifa’s romantic designs on Cloud were a secret to no one. This club was as good as a big flashy ‘GAY’ sign pointing at most everyone who walked through the doors.
Tifa sighed and turned to Cloud, who now looked ready to flee.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
“You… are?” he said hesitantly.
She nodded, smiling. “I’m having the best night. You deserve some fun too.” She swiveled to Rude with a squeak of the leather upholstery against sweaty velvet. “What do you say, Rude? Should we drag him to the dancefloor, maybe loosen him up?”
The bald man grinned, finished his drink and rose.
“…What?” said Cloud, too late. Tifa grabbed a fistful of his sweater vest and hauled the fashion-victim hero of the world after her. Rude, following into the press of the gathering crowd, leaned down to murmur huskily in the younger man’s ear: “Relax.”
This seemed to have the opposite effect. A wall of sound hit the three of them as they passed through glass doors onto the catwalk. Cloud’s frown deepened as they neared the floor. Frantically oscillating dance beats meant that his characteristic silence wasn’t out of place, but it seemed like every other scrap of him was.
With Tifa marching before him and Rude behind, he would have had to fight off both in order to leave. Tension even thicker than drums surrounded the swordfighter.
Tifa tugged insistently, slinking and swaying to the music. Cloud stiffened, the press of bodies having rammed him back against Rude. The latter laid a tender hand on Cloud’s hip and gently insinuated a step to the side. Tifa, spotting this, collaborated to get this white boy moving.
He was just as clumsy and awkward as the paleness of his skin promised. Rude marveled that someone so graceful and agile with a sword the size and weight of a human could not find any semblance of rhythm.
Ain’t that how it goes? Rude grinned to himself.
His persistence and Tifa’s wore Cloud down, and Cloud did not run. Like willowy moths to a golden flame boys melted out of the dancefloor and clustered around Cloud. All were lit from below by the shimmering lights in the floor panel and from above by lasers. With talk impossible, their bodies spoke for them, wide sparkling eyes on Cloud. He frowned at them, but didn’t pull away.
Rude stepped back and watched. A boy reached up to delicately touch the spikes, hesitating, waiting for the blonde’s refusal and getting none. Fingertips ruffled through hair. The teenager then smiled and leaned his own head forward. Cloud reached up, noticed his own glove.
Rude remained only barely aware of dancers jostling him from behind. Cloud took the leather off his hand and touched the boy’s dark hair. Such a still, private moment in the chaos transfixed Rude. Another boy reached up, looking to Cloud’s face for permission. Cloud nodded, still frowning, but less so.
In moments a cluster of boys were running their fingers through Cloud’s spikes. He still had his hand on the first boy’s head. Young virile male bodies pressed in toward him. Rude sucked in air over his teeth. Cloud’s eyes slid shut, his head tipping back, pale throat stretching.
God. Damn. Rude thought. He stripped off his own glove, easily reaching over the heads of Cloud’s admirers to add his bare dark fingers to the wriggling pile.
He’d expected stiffness and crunch but instead found feathery softness. Also acute desire to grip the young man’s head, pull him through the press of admirers and kiss that soft-looking mouth. Rude pulled his hand back with a shaky sigh.
The boys around Cloud began to dance with him, timid touches sliding over his arms, shirt, body. Eyes still closed, he found the rhythm at last and got lost in it. A beautiful orphan in a sea of the beautiful dispossessed.
One of the dancers abruptly leaned in and kissed Cloud. Bright blue eyes flew open and caught the light, blonde eyebrows banging together in shock. Cloud shoved the young man off him, backing away. Rude moved toward the swordsman.
He’s done, Rude thought, seeing his anxious expression. The Turk clasped Cloud’s shoulder and pointed to the nearest exit, then waved Tifa over to follow before bulldozing a path through horny, antsy, twitchy dancers.
Rude felt relief he hadn’t been the one to kiss Cloud and earn that fearful expression. An enemy he once worked so hard to defeat he now wanted to protect.
In the courtyard’s quiet sanctuary Rude turned. Cloud met his eyes, glazed in sweat. His chin lifted.
“Tifa,” said Rude, not looking away. “Mind opening the bar for us?” He saw her look from him to Cloud, who glanced back at her, wordless.
“Not at all,” she said. “What are friends for?”
Cloud nodded.
Rude didn’t trust her slow smile, the twinkle in her eye. Yet he badly wanted a simple de-sparkled place to sit and drink and see if Cloud would speak.

Teasing the knob of the radio in Seventh Heaven with little tweaks, Rude grinned as he unearthed soothing Coastan blues rhythms he’d been seeking. He remembered the taste of stolen beignets and sun-warmed orange soda, tingle on the tongue. He remembered salty tang of breezes through the open back door of a bar, jazz pouring back out like a tide, lounging with other lanky dark-skinned boys on empty crates stacked out back. Lazy afternoons, sugar-dusted shorts, salt-dusted sandals.
He joined Tifa and Cloud at one of the little round tables. Cloud finished his first helping of honey-brown liquid. Tifa poured another before the glass even touched the wood. Rude noted as he took the empty seat between them and lifted his glass that its fumes made his eyes water.
Rude found silence comfortable and potent. He had no problems sitting back behind his shades, unmoving, watching others squirm as the quiet filled up like a glass and finally spill over as the other person poured out nervous words. In this case, Cloud met and held his eyes and sipped. Holding it in like he could match Rude’s reserve all day long.
“How did you find out about that place?” said Tifa, topping up the glasses of the two men. “I’d never even heard of it before.”
Cloud shifted his gaze to her and shrugged. “A couple of people mentioned it to me in passing. Fliers, mostly.”
“Did you know what it was?” she said.
He nodded.
Rude found the younger man’s economy of movement and control enthralling. What would it take to make him lose control? Rude’s leash on his thoughts slipped ever-more as Tifa greased it with the never-ending glass in his hands. He held onto it tightly while his fingers dreamed of sliding bare along the curve of Cloud’s bicep, locking around his wrist, pulling.
“What did you think?” said Tifa.
Cloud’s eyebrows lifted. He took a long drink, throat bobbing in a way that made Rude shudder, and leveled his eyes at the Turk. “Loud.”
A giggle burst out of Tifa as she poured her friend’s glass full again. Rude couldn’t help smiling, although it faded thoughtfully under that watchful gaze.
Rude admired that even with bare-naked eyes Cloud could hide his feelings. The sunglasses were a bit of a cheat Rude didn’t mind using to psych out those around him. He knew that verbally he could probably out-silence Cloud, but those closed-yet-open eyes were an accomplishment. Everything that didn’t leak out of his gaze remained stored in that deceptively small yet heavy pale body. Waiting for the world to fall into danger, and then all that hidden intensity could pour out sharp as a blade.
What, if anything else, would unleash you? Rude wondered. Is there anything I have that could open you to me? And what would you do then? Are you dominant? Submissive? He took another sip, letting the taste roll around in his mouth, considering both possibilities and finding each equally hot.
Cloud jolted and swiveled abruptly, breaking into Rude’s elaborate daydream. The young man stared at the radio. A new song had just come on, a silky sweet woman’s voice beckoning her lover home to her.
Cloud’s mouth twitched. He laid a hand down on the table. From a man whose every move seemed deliberate, it told Rude that Cloud was feeling something overwhelming. A tiny crack.
Tifa saw it too. She moved to tip more booze into Cloud’s glass, no longer subtle about what she was doing. Rude’s hand shot out to clap over the rim. He leaned his head forward enough to give her a warning look over the top of his sunglasses. Startled, she pulled back.
“I was seventeen,” Rude murmured. Cloud twisted back to look at him. Once the man was looking right at him, Rude reached up and with deliberate slowness removed his sunglasses, continuing: “Leon was thirty. Understood me in a way that women didn’t. I thought it was because he was a man. Later I realized it was a part of Leon himself—regardless of gender, it’s who the person is inside that counts.”
Cloud’s eyes widened. Rude lifted his chin, exposed without the shades on the table between them.
“Your first—“ said Rude, and stopped. Booze was trying to push words out of him. It didn’t seem such a good idea anymore. Cloud’s brow had tightened, hands curling into fists, clearly about to snap. Rude tensed, wondering if he should even fight back. It didn’t seem fair.
“You—“ Rude began, trying to fumble a retraction.
Cloud flung the table aside, earning a yelp from Tifa. Rude reared back so hard he almost tipped his chair over. Before he could lift his hands Cloud had slammed into him, grabbed Rude’s jaw in his hands and pushed his mouth roughly in place.
As the kiss really took off and Rude’s brain spun, Cloud sank to a seated position straddling Rude’s thighs. Rude reached up to clasp Cloud’s hips, hesitant, wide eyes staring at Cloud’s sweetly closed ones. Rude felt a tongue-tip prod at his teeth.
Well, fuck, all right… Rude thought, closing his eyes and parting his lips. Ragged breath tickled his cheek. The chair creaked beneath Rude as Cloud leaned in harder. The man’s hips ground into Rude’s, stealing his breath, compressing two male bodies together.
Rude’s ears rang from a combination of alcohol, breathlessness, and blood pooling in his lower reaches. The space between them suddenly got a lot tighter, and not just on Rude’s side of it. Rude tore off his gloves, remembering his earlier tactile fantasy, and feasted on the feel of Cloud’s skin over those arms. It wasn’t enough. Rude peeled up the hem of Cloud’s sweaty shirt and rammed his hands up inside.
Under his bare touch he felt Cloud shudder. Gloves pulled away from Rude’s face. He felt so much from the stimulation of Cloud moving on him and that white-hot kiss he didn’t dare open his eyes to check out what was happening. In a moment a bare hand was sliding over the top of Rude’s bald head and he broke out in a sweat. Rude moaned.
So… soft! His surprise at Cloud’s uncalloused skin felt as profound as the discovery of downy-soft hair. Despite the hard, tight body and one-way gaze, Cloud had hidden delicacy Rude was eager to grab and bite and taste and feel.
He did so now, tearing his mouth from Cloud’s and dipping to nibble at that pale throat. Cloud’s head tipped back and a groan of “…hmm…” escaped him.
That did it. Rude wrapped his arms around Cloud’s back and with a staggering push heaved up off the chair. Cloud tensed. Rude pulled back to look at Cloud’s face.
No more restraint could be found there. Desperate, pleading gaze. Rude kissed him tenderly. Cloud uncoiled.
The sound of a door opening jolted both men. Cloud turned around, Rude looking over his head.
Grinning fit to break her face, Tifa stood at the end of the darkened hall. She held a door open to show a room, bright with moonlight, the end of a bed just visible. Rude met Cloud’s eyes as they swung around again and nodded eagerly to him, breathing hard.
The corner of Cloud’s mouth quirked. He grabbed Rude’s tie just under the knot and dragged the taller, older man along the hall. Rude broke out in achy gooseflesh all over as they entered the bedroom.
Tifa shut the door, blotting out the jazz in the front room. All Rude could hear now was his and Cloud’s gasping breath as their strong bodies and mouths slammed eagerly back together.
***
A/N: Next chapter is the smut, I promise.
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A Lazy Ocean Hugs the Shore