Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ All Fall Down ❯ All Fall Down ( Chapter 1 )

Title: All Fall Down
Author/Artist: GuiltyRed
Rating: NC17
Warnings: dark imagery, rough sex
Word count: 1135
Summary: Their lives are a chain reaction.
Prompt: Reno/Rude: Rough sex - chain reaction not quite in control.
A/N: This turned out quite a bit darker than I expected.




Metal screams, tears free, falls from on high in shrieking, twisting death. The fortunate ones fall with it; for one wild moment they fly without wings. Those beneath meet their end as they had lived: in darkness, beneath tons and tons of steel.

Reno's screams fill my head, and for a terrible instant it's that day again, our own darkest hour. Flailing, I hit the light switch and night recedes just a little.

“Wake up!” I growl, shaking my partner by the shoulder. His skin is slick with cold sweat; beneath clenched eyelids, his vision jerks from horizon to horizon in his dream. “Reno! Wake the hell up!”

He shouts, sitting bolt upright and grappling with me as though I were Sephiroth himself.

“Cool it, man,” I murmur, taking hold of his wrists with gentle but sure strength. “It's all right, it was just a dream.”

“It wasn't a fucking dream,” Reno spits. His breath smells like pain and fear. “It's never just a dream, it'll never go away!”

Though his words bring a chill to my spine, I shake my head, imposing my reality on him as best I can. “It's the middle of the night, you were yelling in your sleep. You're here, with me. You're safe, Reno.”

“Maybe so, yo, but what about -”

I don't let him finish. “It's past, man. Leave it be.”

“I can't, Rude!” Reno pulls away from me, turns to throw his feet over the edge of the bed as though seeking comfort from the cold tile. He looks queasy. “I brought it down. For nothing. Can you believe that? For fucking nothing!”

“Are you going to torture yourself for the rest of your life?” I ask in a soft voice, hoping he proves me wrong. “What will it take for you to just be happy again?”

“I don't know, big guy,” Reno murmurs, his eyes gleaming. Over the years he'd had enough mako contamination to knock a few things loose - maybe it was fueling his nightmares as well. Behind those backlit windows to his soul, he's still writhing among the flames of his own personal hell.

I lean over to kiss him, but he pulls away as if to tell me he doesn't feel worthy of love.

Frustrated, I grab him by the arm and haul him back toward me, and kiss him anyway.

Reno moans against my mouth. His hands grip my arms: half pushing away, half clinging for dear life.

It hits me then: he wants to be punished. And if I don't do it, he will.

Not releasing him from the kiss, I press him down into the mattress and pin him there. He's lean and quick, but I've got the bulk; it's easy for me to hold both his wrists in one hand, high over his head. I maneuver so I'm straddling one leg, my knee just touching his balls. This way he can't kick me, or scramble loose, without getting a whole lot of hurt.

When I do break the kiss, Reno pants harshly and asks, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Proving that you deserve to live.” I look into his eyes, searching for some sign that I'm mistaken, that this might be a bad idea.

I don't find one.

“Let me up, Rude,” Reno snarls, still caught up in his inner nightmare. “I need a cigarette.”

I grab his chin and force him to look up at me. “I'll give you what you need, and it's not a cigarette.” Another kiss, and now I'm daring him to bite me, all my weight pressing down on him and my hands digging into his flesh.

He doesn't bite.

Reno groans into my mouth as his back arches and he rubs against my leg. He's nearly hard.

I'm already there.

I shift position so I'm between his legs. Keeping my eyes locked on his as though mesmerizing him, I release my grip on his wrists and his jaw and trail my hands down to his hips. By the time I'm lifting him and positioning myself to enter dry, he's fully hard and gripping the headboard so tight the wood creaks.

He's tight, painfully so; I grit my teeth and press onward, seeking that remaining spark of humanity in him. If the job itself didn't crush it, the horrors of recent months stood ready to finish the task. I'm not about to lose another friend to this damn war, and I'm sure as hell not about to lose my lover. I thrust again, harder, trying to make him scream for me instead of the nightmare.

I almost miss the word as Reno whispers it on a shallow breath: “More!”

His face is a rictus of mingled lust and self-loathing, a mask of regret painted in pain. I have to tell myself not to kiss him now, he wouldn't heal that way. Instead, I lift his feet over my shoulders. I lean into him, forcing his shoulders down between the pillows with every thrust.

Reno grabs my arms, his fingernails tearing skin as he pushes back against me. Tears given the illusion of blood dampen his cheeks, cascade into his hair. Even white teeth dig into his lip, that impish, playful lip that on better days curved in the most perfect smile I've ever seen. Those teeth are stained crimson as he moans and then shouts, “Harder, damn it!”

He's folded nearly in half now as I force myself in deeper, hurting him to bring him peace. My own body betrays me, enjoying this far too much: I tense as I come, jaw clenched so hard I think I hear a tooth crack.

Beneath me, Reno writhes like a daemon, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He whimpers as his own pleasure rises, then crashes, spilling white across his belly.

I wait until he's limp all over. As gently as I can I slip out, then ease him down into a more comfortable position and fold myself over him.

There's blood on his face, on my arms, on his thighs, between my legs. We are both painted with it, sticky and marking. It runs beneath our skin, only now rising to the surface to show what we have done.

As Reno slides into a sated stupor, I kiss him tenderly on the corner of his perfect, bloody mouth. Cautiously so as not to disturb him, I rise and turn off the light, then pad into the living room.

My hands shake as I lift his pack of smokes, tug one out with my teeth. My hands shake as I raise the lighter, the flame dancing in mockery of our blood. My hands shake for what I have done to my lover, and there is no one in the world strong enough to stop them.