(no subject)

[red-eyed-turk.livejournal.com]

It wasn't a great day. It really, really, wasn't. It was a BAD day, as a matter of fact. What with all the new paperwork because of the thrice damned Nibel project. It wasn't for months and already the mere mention of the sleepy town made Veld Dragoon twitch.

It was Amon's voice that tore him away from his hate of small mountain villas. "Turk. You've got a situation."

He look up from the typewriter, the damn thing always seemed to be in front of him, and into the richly ugly and blond face of Shinra's own god. Great.

"What sort of situation, sir?" he asked, always mindful of the 'sir' always mindful of his tone. Oh, he hated these conversations the worst.

Amon's face was the pinnacle of agitation. He looked like he was stooping to a level far below him and it laced his tone. "I was attacked on my way back from that speech this evening."

He had to had to stifle the urge to say, 'Oh, looks like they failed, pity.' or some such thing that would end up getting his kids in trouble. "You weren't hurt, sir?" came out slowly.

"I said it was a situation, not an emergency. Your Turk is bleeding all over one of my cars, get it out of there and get it fixed, I have appointments tomorrow that require bodyguards with some intimidation power." And with that, Amon Shinra strode from the office.

Oh, he knew which kid it was right away. Even though he had no earthly clue as to who he'd sent out today. It was always that kid. And it was starting to really annoy him too.

He leapt up from his seat, grabbing the first aid kit that dear little Lucrecia had left next to the door on his way out. The elevator was slow. He was slow.

And it just figured.

The doors opened then and of course, Vincent Valentine's red eyes glared at him. A moment later they softened recognition. He was paler than usual, jacket off and pressed against his shoulder, wrapped up and around it. "Heya, Velly…" He said, grunting in pain.

"And you got out of the car. Calvary's here, kid. You're damned impatient." He just watched as he half fell into the elevator, fighting both the urge to kill him and hold him. He had a strange brain like that.

Vincent laughed. "It's jus my shoulder, Velly. Fucker didn't want me bleeding in his limo…" He checked the makeshift wrap and groaned a bit. "fucking bleedin still and the bullets still in there."

He didn't want to trouble sweet little Lucrecia with this sort of wound. Hojo... no. Fuck it all, he knew it was a bad day. He had to get that bullet out immediately, and the kid shouldn't be moved anymore until he did it. He reached across the elevator car, and with the barest of brushes past the injured Turk, pulled the emergency stop handle. "I'm going to pull it out. You hold still."

He cracked open the kit as the kid settled into sitting. Not a drill they were unfamiliar with. Almost familiar with, pulling out the oversized tweezer things that only the Turk first aid kit would have. "Alright, move your jacket."

Vincent growled. "This is going to fucking suck…" But he took his jacket off, unwrapping it from around his shoulder. The black material was soaked, his white dress shirt also ruined. "Going to need a new suit…" Why did he always seem to focus on the obvious?

"Just shut up." Veld was glad that he had a clinical detachment to blood and gore mostly. Though, Amon and the day had done a fair share of pissing him off... and he had to blink back the parts of his mind that liked it when good kids bled all over the place. But he managed to hold his hands steady until the piece of offending metal landing with a ploink on the elevator's floor.

Vincent looked at the offending bullet and growled at it. He flexed the hand on his wounded arm and made an attempt to lift that arm but gave up with a curse. "Ya know, they make bullet wounds non threatening, you'd think they could make it so they don't gods-fer-fucking-HURT so much." With that the whole matter seemed to be dismissed from Vincent's mind, he dug with his good hand for his cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it. "Thanks, Velly."

Not the damn cigarettes. Veld pulled the stick from his mouth instinctively. "Take off your shirt." Once Vincent had the one side off, he helped with the other. The guazing happened in a similar clockwork manner. He had been treated like a machine all day, and he was certainly feeling like one. And he suspected that he was being glared at the entire time.

"Goddamnit, Veld, Let me smoke, already." Vincent snapped. "It's been a shitty day."

"Fuck you. It's bad for you and it hasn't exactly been sunshine for me either." Considering he'd been nice and kept this repair job from the science department, a little snap about death sticks didn't make him feel very charitable.

"Who the bloody fucks said you had a good day?" Vincent dug the pack of cigarettes out again, red eyes trained on Veld the entire time. "Wha the shit crawled up yer ass and died today?"

Arguments. Since the first day he'd met him, that's all he ever seemed to have. No normal conversations. Veld stared back. "I don't have to fucking explain myself. Now I'm going to restart this fun little elevator and we're going to go back to the office. You're exempt from paperwork today, I hope you're happy."

"Oh don't ya start that shit with me, Velly. I do my fair share of all the work and you damns well know it." Arrogance. That would sum up Vincent Valentine. He was the best, and damn his ass, he knew it.

"And the trouble. Where you gallivanting around showing off, or did they just happen to get a lucky shot off you?" Veld knew that was an entirely unfair statement. For all the shooting, killing, and pillaging he could do, he was piss poor at watching his own back. No, that was his job. He wasn't the leader... he was the unofficial back watcher. Sometimes that chafed.

The smell of cigarette smoke was heavy in the lift. "I was doing my fucking job, Veld." Twin jets filtered out his nose and while that look could wither many people in their shoes, it just made Veld madder. "Three snipers, would you like me to use three guns at once next fucking time?"

"Well good for you." He reached back over to pull the lever, He had been kneeling to patch up Vincent, and had to hover over him to reach it. That meant proximity. And Veld was in no mood to deal with his twitch. Of course, something he'd only noticed the one time Vincent hadn't been himself... was that in addition to wanting to shoot up a room full of people... he was almost... horny.

And that just figured.

Vincent shook his head then, closing his eyes and sighing. Then one red eye opened. "Why aren't we godsdamned moving yet?"

"Because I'm fighting off the urge to strangle you. So shut up." He still didn't pull the damn lever.

"I'd like ta fucking see you try that, Veld." Vincent hissed. Amon was almost a prophetic bastard, spending a full day with him was enough to make someone revert to very base and instinctual emotions. Like self preservation…

…and sex.

So maybe pinning his upper body to the door and kissing him wasn't strangling. Or the neck biting he proceeded to do almost immediately afterwards. But it sure as hell felt as good as strangling at the moment. Hell, maybe he'd get to do that later.

Of course, this was Vincent Valentine, not one to lay down and take anything without putting up a fight that would wear any normal human being down before they even got to the sex.

Another growl left his throat and Vincent's unwounded hand gripped Veld's hair tightly, yanking back on the neat pony tail and pitching them both to the floor. Teeth bit into that place just above where his shirt ended on his neck. A place that Vincent knew would bruise.

Fucker. Even sex was a argument. Veld rolled in a way, that he knew would most likely hit Vincent's newly acquired wound, giving him a chance to get on top and nip at his collarbone.

Vincent hissed, rearing back and cupping his hand to his shoulder. Never a yelp, oh no, not from the great Vincent Valentine. He panted a little, knees sliding out a bit in the blood that managed to pool from his shoulder. At least he was smirking now, eyes narrowed in some challenging amusement.

"What?" Veld asked, hovering, noses almost touching, maybe teasing. Sure, he'd jumped him, but he knew that Vincent wanted it. There was not often a time he didn't... much to the relief of his much neglected drive. Hell, he was even still fully clothed. He felt pretty damn in control for once.

Vincent, however, was very much not fully clothed and more a mess than usual. The smirk then rose to a smile and he lunged across the small space. The buttons of Veld's white dress shirt pinged as they snapped off of the glass walls of the elevator. Vin weighed more than Veld, simply put and was using that to as much advantage as he could.

Veld decided to ignore the buttons. He would yell about them later. At least he hadn't ripped his tie this time... he'd had to replace three already. The weight advantage was particularly affecting his groin, and in a pleasant and impatient manner. When he licked, there was some dried blood, and for some reason that caused a strange sound in the back of his throat. He was suddenly very thankful he'd met Vincent when he was older... the old killing spree would have lasted far longer had the kid been around.

It was then that his shirt fell all the way open, Veld found himself slammed onto his back Vincent's hands pressed firmly on his shirt in a way that forced his arms down in place. Teeth graced his throat again, that delicate place where his adam's apple rested and then dipped lower to his collar bone.

He was almost distracted. He knew that if Vincent kept this up, he'd be pinned the whole time. Especially now that he'd started the licking... tongue trailing from the middle of his chest to his ear. Far too good at that to be legal. Veld bite down hard on Vincent's ear once it was in reach, looking for an opening to switch the advantage.

A mixture of a snarl and a hiss left Vincent's mouth, rearing up again he let go of Veld's shirt. He slammed one palm at the other man's chest in an effort to keep him pinned, but it was a failed attempt, and Vin knew it.

A jerk from his hips and he threw the younger man off balance, and in an almost trained move ended up straddling him, using one hand to pin his arms above his head. He fingered the waistband of his pants, and settled on fiddled with the button.

Vincent's tired shoulder refused to fight with him anymore. He snarled, tossing his head for a second before growling low in his throat. "Sneaky basta-ahhh…" Veld's hand chose that moment to work its way into Vincent's pants. And here is where he switched tactics to a gentler touch, fingers barely brushing up against Vincent.

Eyes closed and even though he continued to make a growling sound, Vincent wasn’t exactly fighting with him anymore.

He used the momentary compliance to slide his tongue into Vincent's mouth, which seemed to have an iron aftertaste. Barest of traces on the younger man's nether regions and his muscles relaxed, leaving the ferocity for his tongue to battle out.

Arching up from underneath him, Vincent groaned. He tried to pry his good arm from above his head, but Veld's weight made that impossible. Instead he satisfied himself with nipping at Veld's neck again, pulling at his tie with his teeth.

Veld chuckled. The tie. It always seemed to offend Vincent so much... well, the current state of his pants, namely on, were cause for offense.

Vincent suddenly reared up, pitching Veld off balance and rolling so that Veld's knees were up around Vincent's hips. Vincent was kneeling, his own slacks sliding down to show his boxers.

The wall of the elevator effectively made Veld half sitting and half reclining on Vincent's lap. Vincent went for his tie again, pulling the knot loose with his teeth while pushing the dress shirt and jacket from Veld's shoulders.

Hands went inside the waistband again, grabbing ass this time and pulling for more skin to skin contact. Veld didn't like to worry about his twitches when it came to this, and some part of him reveled in how terribly gluttonous he was being.

Biting down on Vincent's uninjured shoulder, Veld growled himself. The tie drifted off of his body, falling from Vincent's mouth when he gasped, arching his back. He fell forward, hands flat against the reflective glass on either side of Veld's head and a rumbling purring sound coming from his throat.

He slid his hands back up again and lightly tugged at the boxer's waistband. "Off." His voice was hoarse and scratched a little, surprising himself.

Once again, Vincent moved quickly. His hands closed over Veld's wrists and hauled them up, throwing them against the mirrored surface of the elevator above his head.

Vincent then edged forward, pressing himself further in-between Veld's legs and loosing his pants entirely. Grinding his hips forward, Vincent stopped biting and ran his tongue lightly from Veld's chest up his shoulder, and to trace his jaw. "Take yer own advice." He nearly panted in Veld's ear, letting go of the other man's arms.

He shivered. "I don't take orders, punk." Voice still a little ragged. He would think about that later. He was currently shoving Vincent back enough so that he could lose the troublesome pants... because they were troubling him, NOT because Vincent had suggested it. Certainly not that.

Vincent fell back, sliding out of his boxers quickly and grabbing a fistful of Veld's hair at the crown of his head, yanking their mouths together. One of Veld's legs remained in his pants leg, but Vincent didn't seem to mind.

His free hand wrapped around Veld's cock, immediately moving in a light and deliberately slow motion. The hand at the back of Veld's head yanked backwards and Vincent licked gently along the bared part of his neck.

Pushy shit. Veld bit back a gasp at the change in contact, momentarily dazed. When he regained his senses, he wrapped an arm around Vincent's waist, pulling him into an almost crushing contact before nipping at the place where the jaw and neck joined.

Hands gripped Veld's hips and Vincent pulled, rubbing against him with a smooth, grinding rhythm. His teeth pulled against Veld's bottom lip, prompting it open for his tongue to invade. The motion sped up then, and his mouth left Veld's.

The panting was mixed with a deep groaning in Veld's ear, meaningless swears he could barely hear worked their way from Vincent's mouth in between flicks of his tongue at just that spot on his neck.

A very loud string of cursing and slickness on his stomach indicated that Vincent had finished. A low whisper in his ear and a particularly forceful bite later and Veld too came. They collapsed into a messy heap, waiting a few moments for their breaths to catch up with them.

"I hope your shoulder hurts," Veld said once his heart rate slowed down. He surveyed the surroundings... Shinra really should invest in less easy to mess up material for elevator walls.

Vincent reached his pants and pulled them over cautiously, though he was fairly sure they couldn't have avoided mess. He fished out his cigarettes and lit one, letting his head clunck against the wall. "They both do now, fucker."