Summary: Written for a drabble prompt on Tumblr, where Cloud had to dominate Reno.
Usual disclaimer: Don't own the characters, wish I did. This is written for fun and not profit.
Reno was not an easy man to pin down, both literally and figuratively, and Cloud was beginning to find that out very quickly. A bit of alcohol - make that quite a bit of alcohol - had relaxed tensions between the two enough as they stumbled their way out of the bar, stopping every few feet for a quick snog against the side of a building.
This is a bad idea, Cloud thought in passing, as he ran his hands up the inside of Reno's uniform shirt, grazing his fingers all up and down the Turks' backside. He could feel the outlines and ridges of old battle scars, and briefly wondered how many of those scars had been caused by him.
Yeah. This is...a very, very bad idea. The little voice inside Cloud's head kept nagging at him, but he didn't care.
"Shut up," Cloud blurted, rather rudely, telling that little voice in no uncertain terms, to pipe down.
"The hell, Strife?" Reno murmured, smirking as the blond pressed him against a brick wall, groping him. "I wasn't even saying anything...mainly because your fucking tongue was down my throat."
"I wasn't talking to you," Cloud replied coolly, grabbing Reno's wrists, holding both together in one hand as he pinned them up over his head. "My conscience...is trying to tell me how very bad you are for me."
"Tch," Reno clucked. "Fuck your conscience. You know you want this."
"Yeah, right," Cloud replied vaguely. He wasn't about to admit the obvious - not out loud, anyway.
"Maybe we're so gods-damned wrong for each other...that it kinda makes sense," Reno murmured, nipping at Cloud's ear. The swordsman tensed, leaning in to give Reno another searing, demanding kiss. Reno tasted of whiskey and clove cigarettes and the combination hit Cloud right in the groin. He rolled his eyes at the redhead as he came up for air.
"This is no time to get philosophical, Reno," Cloud chided him, rolling his eyes. "Gods, do you ever stop talking?" he added irritably.
Reno smirked. "Well...if I got something in my mouth..." he hinted. He frowned and tugged at his wrists, still pinned together by the hero's leather-gloved hand. "Come on...my arms are gettin' sore. Are you gonna let me go, Cloud, or just fucking torture me?"
"No," Cloud replied evenly, reaching into Reno's inside jacket pocket for the pair of handcuffs that he knew the Turk kept there.
Click.
"You - " Reno sputtered. "I fucking hate you, Strife."
Cloud chuckled, working Reno's belt buckle open.
"No...no, you don't."