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He Knows He Shouldn't	By : Deathalletta Category: Final Fantasy VII > General Views: 725 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-He Knows He Shouldn't
- 1
He knows he shouldn’t

Sometimes our basic instincts get the better of us (Cid/Yuffie)

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but look at her with that look in his eye. She glances back every so often, her dark almond eyes meeting his piercing blue before quickly darting away, unable to shake the feeling of his predator stalking her prey.
He knows he shouldn’t, but his body seems to shift itself closer to her so subtly that he hardly recalls moving; his movements fluid and strong, calculated, and full of intent. She doesn’t move away, but he sees her quake softly, more visible with every inch he moves. It is alright though, he sees that. Her shimmering flesh betrays her curiosity as well as her fear. He does not touch her yet, oh no- he shall keep her for a while in this limbo.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he lets his mouth curl in to a half-smile. Languid, cool and wanton, he chuckles softly, watching the soubrette’s chest move ever so slightly from the quick shallow breath she takes. Her eyes dart to him, her tongue darts over her lip, leaving a soft trail of saliva coating. Slowly, he lifts his finger to her lip and gently touches it, eliciting a sweet inaudible moan from the nymph.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but enjoy this moment more than any other of his life. She, Princess of Wutai, submitting herself to a mere pilot more than willingly. His finger gently strokes along her lip, and he can’t help but chuckle as the girl gently licks his finger, eyes wide, wanting, with a hint of fear. His lips part, and he finds himself addressing her in husky tones. “Always knew you’d submit in time.”
He knows he shouldn’t have said it, but the look on her face is priceless. Outraged, she tries to find the words to portray her well-rehearsed disgust, but he can see through her charade. Hastily, he extends his hand and grips her wrist, pulling her towards him so that her face is inches from his. Her eyes are wide, deep and dark, pupils swimming with want. “Don’t fight,” he whispers. A command, not a request. Smokey lips meet hers as he finally begins, dancing a dance of inevitable ruin.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he lets his hand wander. Breasts, thighs, buttocks, hair, hip, stomach, all of her, wanting to learn her neat, svelte body in an instant. She responds in measured kind, her tiny frame still shaking in his steady grasp as she moves closer in to him. Gently, he paws between her legs, drawing a sigh as pure as Leviathan’s water from her sweet throat. He kisses that throat tenderly, murmuring into her throat for just one moment. “I can be gentle too. Today I don’t wanna.”
He knows he shouldn’t be rough with her, but he wouldn’t take her any other way. He knows this beast well; the lust that dances between two strong-minded players until they are forced in to a corner, forced to fight out their tension in a bar, brawl or bed. He will not have her win, not this first time. This time she is his for the taking and he knows he shall take her well. Rough hands tear the clothes from her skin then his, leaving them whole, real and in wait. He watches her for just a moment. The old fire in her eyes has died to a smoulder of shame as she attempts to cover herself. Grabbing her wrists, he forces them apart, uttering a single word as he takes in every detail. “…Don’t.”
He knows he shouldn’t be, but he can’t help be turned on even more by her in this state of shame. He is already the victor, but has yet to claim his prize. Leaning down again, he kisses down her neck, down her chest, gently nipping every so often, harder each time. Pain will be something she will learn to enjoy. Lips settle on her breast, latching on to one sweet, soft nipple, sucking hard as a hand moves down to her clit and massages roughly, making the young girl squirm. Mere moments of this, and he feels it is time to take what’s his. He positions himself at the entrance of her, feeling the wet heat for a moment, before plunging into her without a word.
He knows he shouldn’t take pleasure in the sound of that blood curdling scream, but deep down he cannot help it as he destroys her last innocence. He spies the tears in the corners of her eyes and smiles slightly, fucking her at his pace, loving the sweet tightness, his mind conscious of nothing but the sensations. He drives in to her harder, his mouth seeking out her flesh once more. Licking, sucking, nibbling, biting, all and anything and everything to brand her as his. She starts to respond more, hips meeting his, creating a cacophony of sense in which his mind is lost but for one word that sits on his tongue, spitting out in a chant… “Mine.” Speech has abandoned her also, leaving her with but one response. “Yours.”
He knows he shouldn’t but he fucks her harder as he feels her first orgasm building. Selfish want drives him as he strives to make it the best for her, the best she’s ever had and the best she ever will. He wants her screaming. He wants her screaming his name for the world to hear his victory over royal blood. Her breath catches in her throat for a moment, before the world caves in and implodes into one moment of perfect euphoria, singing out in a wail of joy the word “Captain.”
He knows he shouldn’t be dissatisfied with that distinguished title, but greed, want and sheer audacity drive him on as he continues to thrust through the tensing of her muscles, a hand extending to grasp round her sweet throat. “Callin’ me your Sir already is a good start,” he whispers coarsely, gently squeezing her with his strong hands. “But I want them to hear you call me by my name. I want them to know who owns you.” By now, she is too far gone to argue. Her dark eyes flash as he bucks harder, eyes fixed in on hers, pushing her to her limits. This time the scream comes from deeper within, a cry of anguish as well as pleasure, of defiance as well as submission, and of finality as well as a new beginning.
He knows he shouldn’t release inside her, but for that moment he wants nothing more than to fill her with his seed. He wants her belly to grow big with his children, for the world to know what she is. Shuddering, he stills, collapsing down on her, trapping her with him. For moments they breathe together, still one and the same, unmoving. Then, in a whisper, she shatters the silence. “Get off me, old man.”
He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but respond to her parry. “So that’s your thing, huh kid? You get off of the old coots like me?” Her silent eyes flash with distain now, as she slowly pieces herself back together. He laughs at her, a hollow, meaningless laugh. “Go away kid. I’ve had enough of you today.” Her face turns puce at the comment. Raging, she exit’s the scene, gently sobbing to herself. He smiles. In a few days, he’ll have pushed her to the same point.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he will again.
- 1
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He Knows He Shouldn't