In Two
By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-
Author Notes: So, this one-shot stems from three things: the 'Being for the Benefit of Title-choosing thread over at the Genesis Awards, where names of titles were (A great girl named Sylla gave the name, by the way), my insatiable lust/love/hate relationship with Zack/Reno, and one begging a couple of months ago for some type of Zano action. There are only a handful, handful! Of this pairing and I just wanted to boost it up.
And no, this really doesn't have anything to do with 'Tenacity' but it can be if you want it to be. Don't worry about having to read Tenacity to get what the hell's going on. But... if you want to go read it, I'd be really happy. Hehe.
WARNINGS: This is 'M' for a reason, so if you get squicked out by Yaoi (man on man action) then I suggest you rethink clicking on buttons that state the story is yaoi. If you wish to leave, there is a rather nice back button directly above, or you can click the 'X' at the top left of your screen. It's also kind of angsty and there are mentions all over that place about very not nice things. Actually, if you want my opinion, this turned out to be pretty fucking scary. Please keep all body parts inside of the ride during all times. Thank you and have a nice day.
Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I own, or will ever own Final Fantasy VII or its compilations. I write this because there is no Zano and I need to get some smuttyness out of my head. I hope it adds some to yours, however.
In two words Zack could compile every noun and verb, sweat and kiss, scream of anger and moan of passion that ever came between the two. There was no softness or gentleness, but a rough sort of affair. Bruises laced on skin like the most expensive of dress (which every girl wants to fawn over as she searches for that one perfect wedding gown. Their prince would be there soon and then that would be the end of that.), throats raw with the hunger of a thousand snarling wolves, all screaming the same thing (feedmefeedmefeedmefeedme), tongues darting like fire (light me another cigarette, darling. This one tastes of death and rat poison).
An interesting affair with pain and sex. There was always blood, like aftershave over their faces, burning their nostrils with its sweet perfume of malice and touching their lips. It always burned, as if the fires, blue and red (and that godawful yellow and orange that when mixed looked similar to a teenager's vomit all over the floor, their wicked deed of swallowing their parents pills staring back at them, smiling its sunshine hue with a 'fuck you, darling' sprawled above) were taunting. Not once had the fire smoldered, drenched out by the sloshing rain (or those plastic Barbie tears that never made anyone think anything but how they'd like to shed the teenage beauty-queen's blood all over their floor and write 'plastic' over the expansion of her milky white skin).
Reno liked the kinky things (hand those cuffs over to me, Mister Turk; I'll make you beg for release). Ropes, chains, biting and blood. There wasn't sex without those essential things. Drugs fogged the mind and he needed none of that shit (Zack always enjoyed hearing Reno moan as he writhed under him, using his body as a needle, plunging in and out, blood coating their stomachs, Reno never asking for a tourniquet). What they wanted was simple: more time and less restrictions (Shinra always complained that they were too loud or that the new holes in the wall were inexcusable, that the blood was hard to get out of the carpet and how they were being nuisances to the company) and maybe perhaps another person to shed their pleasure with (Cloud was too innocent, Tseng wouldn't go for it, Rude had a girl and Rufus didn't like the idea of him being touched, let alone fucked).
But they didn't need that to have fun. Slick bodies and loud moans (almost loud enough to block out the neighbors screeches for them to shut the fuck up or turn some music on, but never quite there) were their companion through both the wanton winter nights (button up your jacket or your dick'll freeze in an upright position!) and sweltering summer mornings (one hundred and three degrees—slip inside for some cool treats), the cooling autumn afternoons (there are leaves in your hair, let me pull them out with chunks of your silky red mane) and warming spring dusks(let's take a dip in the tub, let me scrub you raw and we'll see if I can get your skin to match all of that hair). Zack didn't need anymore fun. He was already drowning in all that he was bathed in as it was.
In two words Zack could compile every noun and verb, sweat and kiss, scream of anger and moan of passion that ever came between the two.
It never amounted to 'love me'.
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