Wicked Games

“The budget for road reconstruction through Midgar is being wasted on….”

Vincent sat perfectly still as a hand slipped over his thigh, fingers drumming over the leather.

“… but the cost of shipping coal from….”

The fingers trailed upwards, splaying over his crotch before teasingly massaging the flesh underneath. Vincent twitched.

“And with the Wutai flu predicted to come in….”

It was a game between them, to see who would lose composure first- each trying to crack the other’s dignified façade in the most public of places. Right now Reeve was ahead… but that was mostly due to the fact that he’d caught Vincent off-guard, trying to sneak in a handjob during a board meeting. His face was impassive, almost bored, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gave it away. Those skilled fingers traced his growing erection with practiced ease before tugging slightly at the hidden zipper of his pants, eliciting another tiny squirm from the gunslinger. Reeve twitched his lips in a bit of a grin-

-and then his pager went off. The members of the board all looked to him as he jerked his hand away from where it’d been exploring and fumbled out the little gadget, eyes widening a bit at the message displayed there. “… is everything all right, Commissioner?” one of the board members asked.

“… something’s come up.” Reeve stood up from his seat at the head of the table, Vincent rising almost ghostlike behind him. “Continue the meeting; I’ll want a copy of the minutes on my desk by the end of the day. Now, if you’ll excuse me….” He turned smartly on his heel and strode out the door, his bodyguard drifting behind him.

“I suppose you thought that was funny,” Vincent rumbled once they were down the hallway and out of earshot. He paused in front of the elevator and pressed the ‘up’ button, giving Reeve a part-irritated, part-amused glance.

The WRO commissioner shrugged, allowing a faint smile to grow on his lips. “It beats the hell out of reviewing fuel expenditures.” The elevator pinged as the doors opened; they walked in, slipping in a keycard and punching in for the top floor. “Though, paging me in the middle of a meeting? What, couldn’t you handle a little teasing?”

Vincent gave the other a mock glare, watching as they rose- and slammed a hand on the emergency stop as soon as they passed the 50th floor. Before Reeve could even protest, Vincent had whirled on him, pinning him against the elevator door. His claw wrapped easily around Reeve’s right wrist, holding it above his head as he pressed his groin to the younger man’s in a demonstration of his arousal. “You know better than to play with fire, Tuesti.”

“Maybe I like getting burned,” was the answer. Reeve leaned forward to kiss Vincent, which gave the other the perfect opening to snag his other hand. With the claw held tight around both his wrists, there wasn’t any way for him to move- a situation that Vincent seemed quite smug about. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“You talk too much.” Vincent pressed greedy lips to his, ravishing the other man’s mouth with his tongue. Reeve returned the favor by biting Vincent’s bottom lip hard enough to break the skin. “We’re playing by my rules now. And you’ve broken every single one of them.” His gloved hand popped the straps of his dress jacket open, grasping the zipper and yanking it down in one swift move.

Reeve took the opportunity to lick the tiny trickle of blood from Vincent’s lips. Under the coat his dress shirt was in disarray, partly untucked from his pants and gaping open enough to expose a thin sliver of skin and the darkening line of curls leading down his stomach. The gunman smirked even wider at the erection tenting the front of his slacks. “Does this get you off, Tuesti?” he whispered, leaning forward enough that his breath tickled his ear. He wiggled, trying to break free, and was pushed back flat against the doors again. “Does it get you off knowing you’re trapped here, at my mercy? I know you. You’re getting hard just thinking about it.” He traced his tongue over the shell of Reeve’s ear. “You can’t get free. You know you can’t. But you don’t really want to, now do you?”

“Bastard.” Reeve tried to glare at him, but was cut off by the feel of fingers cupping his groin and squeezing just enough to be slightly painful. His hips bucked involuntarily into the contact; the squeeze turned to a tantalizing caress through the fabric, and he had to bite back a moan of pleasure.

Vincent chuckled indulgently. “Language, Tuesti.” The gloved hand slipped up his chest, up his throat and threading through the fine hair of his beard. The touch nearly had the executive purring as the leather-clad hand slipped up to cup his cheek, caressing gently even as Vincent began nipping at the other side of his throat. “You're sweating. Is it that hot in here... or is there something else bothering you?”

The only answer was a stifled moan and the arch of his back, straining against the claw that held him in place. “You're... doing this on purpose, aren't you?” Reeve accused as Vincent pinned him flat again, his thigh between his legs and wedging them apart. Any further accusations were cut off by another bruising kiss, the taller man unabashedly grinding his hips against his captive's as a low growl started deep in his throat. Vincent's passions tended strongly towards the feral. The demons in his blood saw to that- and the bestial, primitive edge made Reeve literally weak in the knees. “... Vincent-”

“Beg me for it,” the gunslinger breathed, regarding him with half-lidded eyes; the crimson irises seemed to glow under the shadow of hair and bandanna. His thigh pressed up against his groin, rubbing just slightly enough to be sweetly torturous. The gloved hand slipped down to brush against Reeve's lips. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it. Beg me.”

“Vincent....” It was nearly impossible to remain dignified and distant when his entire body was on fire, aching for the feel of soft leather and cold metal against his flesh, for the skilled touch and the feel of the other's breath on his skin as he moaned- it was impossible and he loved it, loved being safe enough to shed the dignity, to give up the control, to just be all vulnerable passion and feeling and human. He arched again, pushing harder against that muscled thigh. “Please... Vincent, I need... I need-”

Vincent arched an eyebrow, a wicked smile playing about his lips. “Yes?” His voice was a bare whisper, growling and rough in the unnatural quiet of the elevator. “What do you need, Reeve?”

“I need-” He bit his lower lip, trying for coherency and failing. “Vincent, please, I... touch me, Gaia, please, I-” Reeve whimpered, eyes closing tight before opening to stare at Vincent, pleading. “... please, just... touch me-”

As if in response, Vincent smirked and pressed his right index finger into Reeve's mouth. The taste of sweat and leather and faint gunpowder hit him; he wrapped his tongue around it, a sort of digital fellatio that made Vincent growl deep in the back of his throat before he bit down on the glove. Vincent tugged and Reeve pulled with his teeth and the glove slipped free, exposing perfect porcelain skin etched by razor-thin scars. He took the glove away and kissed him, a surprisingly gentle gesture in contrast to the tight bonding grip. “I suppose that'll do,” he said with a smile, tucking the glove into the holster on his side before slipping his hand down. “Since you asked so politely....”

Nimble fingers unfastened his slacks and pulled down the zipper before slipping his cock out the front of his boxers. The air was cool, Vincent's fingers warm, almost hot; his fingers edged along the underside of the head before pressing against the slit, already slick with precome. “Let go,” he purred, warm hand wrapping firmly around the shaft and stroking once. The strangled cry was like music, making his smile turn into a predatory grin. He leaned forward, covering Reeve's lips with his own, swallowing his cries through deep-throated, tangling kisses as his hand began to stroke Reeve's erection. Hard and fast; there was no time or desire for slow and leisurely when the executive was already so close to the brink. No time to waste when what Vincent wanted to see was the other's back arching, his skin flushed and sparkling with a fine sheen of sweat, and to see the minute trembling of Reeve's body as he struggled to keep from wantonly thrusting into the tight grip.

“Please,” came the strangled whisper; Reeve's eyes were only half open, as if drugged on sensation. Vincent could see the brink of his climax in his face, how he was wavering on the fine line between torture and ecstasy as he pumped his shaft faster. He complied, as eager as his pinned lover to see him climax, stroking him in a rough, irregular rhythm, cupping the slick head at the upstroke and stroking down just so-

And Reeve cried out- that was the moment Vincent wanted to see, that instant of breaking and release, body rigid and trembling, head thrown back and bangs tousled, hazel-green eyes wide and sparkling and lips wet from too many open-mouthed kisses. That was what he wanted to hear, the low, musical cry of his own name rising from the depths of Reeve's chest as his cock pulsed and spilled warm over his bare hand. Vincent's claw released the other's hands, lunging down to catch him around his waist and support him as his arms fell limply around his shoulders. He leaned against him heavily, panting and shaking, slowly coming down from the heights of orgasm.

“Are you all right?” The question was off-hand, hiding concern as he lifted his come-stained hand and began licking it clean. There was no answer for a bit, and then Reeve began to laugh softly, his head buried in the crook of Vincent's neck and weak, trembling arms zipping his pants back up.

Reeve finally leaned forward and playfully licked at Vincent's lips, still panting slightly. “As soon as I figure that out... I'll let you know.” Vincent snorted with laughter and Reeve stepped away, managing to zip his coat back up as the other pulled his glove back on. “Now, did you get that all out of your system?”

“Not quite.” He took Reeve's hand and pressed it briefly against this straining erection, warm even though the leather. “Care to help me with that?”

He gave his lover a quick smile... and hit the 'resume' button on the elevator, starting it back up. Vincent squawked in outrage. “Oh, not yet,” he said calmly, leaning against the wall next to him and crossing his hands over his stomach, an evil grin twitching at his lips. “So far it's been your game.” He smirked openly. “Now we're playing by my rules, Valentine. Don't worry, though.” Reeve brushed fingers over Vincent's cheek and winked. “I'll be sure to teach you how to play.”

Vincent's startled laughter was muffled by the ding of the elevator. “Really, now. I look forward to learning all about it.”