Chapter Text
Cloud had forgotten how long they’d been eyeing each other, him, and Angeal. He couldn’t even remember how it had started. At morning briefings? In a dull grey hallway somewhere?
He’d been so careful not to get noticed at first. Fleeting glances raked over shapely muscles. Mental snapshots of arms that could strangle most un-mutated beasts. He’d save them for the little breaths of alone-time he could find, and then he would conjure their shapes. Imagining the crush of their embrace whenever life felt like too much. Imagine them lending him strength.
He did, however, remember the first time Zack had introduced them. The memory was both fond and appalling. How many times had he wanted to sink through the floor at not having produced a single word without stammering it out that evening at Zack’s when Angeal had dropped in unannounced. Just thinking about it made heat rise in his face.
After that, things had changed. The glances he stole became lingering, and he caught Angeal returning them more than once too. Though his expression rarely changed, he sometimes got this sparkle in his eyes that even rivalled fresh Nibelheim snow at noon. No man’s eyes should be so expressive, truly.
With some vividness, he remembered the time they got crammed together at the back of an elevator, caught in the morning rush. He still hadn’t asked if Angeal brushing up against his arm like that had been deliberate or not. It didn’t matter. It had happened, and it had been electric.
There had also been that time in the food dispensary queue and the needlessly considerate sharing of high-end rations at a shared mission. The second time they'd been assigned the same mission they got to spend lengthy time together. None of them had said much, but he’d never felt so content just walking silently side by side before. Angeal’s imposing presence just had a massive impact on him. It was dumb, he knew, but Angeal made him feel safe.
He’d battled himself for ages to ask Angeal out. The first time he’d tried, his heart was beating 200 beats per minute, and all he’d managed to squeeze out was the word ‘would?’. It hadn’t amounted to anything other than Angeal’s blindingly bright eyes pinning him down, like a butterfly to a board. The more he changed towards the hue of a tomato, the brighter they shone. Angeal breaking out into a tallied smile hardly helped him out of his stupor. Still, it had been worth it, because the flirting became even more pronounced afterwards.
It had taken another few tries before Angeal finally saved him, by inviting him to dinner.
And so it was that he, Cloud Strife, found himself ringing the doorbell on the 88th floor; higher than he’d ever been in the Shinra building before. He knew he wasn’t really frail, not like the other troopers thought of him, but as hard as his heart was beating now, he was afraid he’d break a rib.
The door swung open, and the grace of Angeal in a simple black T-shirt and faded black jeans blessed his corneas. It could have been a religious experience to feel another man’s gravity, the way he felt Angeal’s.
“Come in,” Angeal said with his booming voice that rattled his frame like a ghost's caress.
Cloud took extra care not to trip on the doorstep as he entered. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to wear. I thought this would be least s-suspicious,” he mumbled and gestured towards his uniform, sans the guards and gun harness. The last thing he wanted was to somehow embarrass Angeal with his presence.
“I don’t mind. They suit you. Though you could have worn anything on my behalf.”
Cloud felt the weight of the compliment bending him double as he fumbled to get off his boots.
“I hope you don’t mind cold meals. I should have asked.”
“N-Not at all.” To be honest, he didn’t give a shit about what they’d eat. He’d gladly take a daily lunch ration if he got to eat it with Angeal. Heat was already rising to his face. He could feel it bubbling up to the surface like water just about to boil. If he could just stop stammering, that’d be helpful at least.
With a gesture, Angeal led him straight into the kitchen, and Cloud followed while trying to take in the impression of Angeal’s flat. As expected, it wasn’t gaudy. Clean and neat to perfection. The furnishings were subdued and undecorated. A lot of natural wooden surfaces. Perhaps more in one place than he’d seen since Nibelheim. With the pleasantly bright walls, it made a neat but warm impression. What surprised him most was the number of house plants. They were scattered abundantly on shelves, pedestals and drawers, and that was a rare luxury indeed.
“They’re lovely,” Cloud murmured as they passed a narrow table full of small, green bushes in the hallway.
“Thank you. I enjoy looking after them, perhaps a little too much.”
Cloud wondered how that could be possible, but he didn’t ask. For now, it was enough just to be there, to look, and to listen.
Half a dozen steps took him into a kitchen where a table was set for two. Two plates overflowing with colourful, fresh greens, that he could have stared at until his eyes would tear up. It must have cost a fortune! Even in Nibelheim, that rich a salad would be impossible. Alongside were spherical glasses generously filled with red wine.
“I didn’t buy it. Don’t worry,” Angeal said, and casually touched his arm to call his attention. Cloud managed nothing else other than staring dumbly into those sparkling blue eyes.
“I grew it.” Angeal led him to the sink. “Wash your hands?”
Heat ferociously crowded his face at the request that sounded much too close to a command, as he set to wash his hands with the fragrant soap. At once, he regretted not having gotten himself a nailbrush. Weapon oil stuck to his nailbeds with tooth and nails and there was no way he was going to–
“I think that’s enough,” Angeal said with palpable warmth. The statement poured over Cloud like a cooling balm, but the effect was quickly cancelled out by Angeal plucking up his hands and trying them off with a clean kitchen towel. He’d never seen such an exquisite kitchen towel before. It was crisp, and even subtly shiny. He didn’t know whether to love it or hate it, as it acted as a barrier between them for their first proper touch.
"Thanks,” he mumbled shyly, while his eyes flicked around between Angeal’s arms and his chest, not quite managing to raise his gaze.
“No, thank you for indulging this old habit I can’t seem to shake, even though I know that the mako has long since made me immune to most infections.”
He could technically take one step forward, and he’d be pressed up against Angeal, like a… something that slotted into something else. Like a castle surrounded by a curtain wall, he thought, remembering childhood stories. Angeal was just so solid . He wanted to experience that solidity with all of his senses in a way that threatened to make him impulsive.
The moment slipped by with Angeal sliding a hand down his arm and leading him to sit. It had been longer than he would have liked to admit since someone had touched him like that. He managed to hook up now and then when he had a few days off, but the encounters were always quick and… not dirty and rough, necessarily, but detached. Business-like. This was something different, and it made him want to shy away and lean into it at the same time.
Angeal sat down opposite him, and he decided he had to do something. The whole evening couldn’t be him just staring down at a 45-degree angle. He couldn’t waste it like that, so he put his hands on the table, took a deep breath, and looked up.
“Sorry. I’m… nervous,” he said slowly, as not to stammer. “I can’t believe you invited me.” Angeal smiled back at him with more warmth than he'd seen outside of the apartment. It was disarming. Quite the opposite of 'professional Angeal'.
“I can’t believe you came, so that makes us even, doesn’t it?” Angeal was reassuring and confident, in a way that Cloud doubted he’d ever manage.
“You can’t?” he asked with more mistrust than he had intended to give away.
“No? This may come as a surprise to you, but some people find me intimidating,” Angeal said with an almost childlike glee twinkling in his eyes, while the remainder of him stayed composed. As if Cloud hadn’t found him attractive enough before. How would he make it through this evening with any dignity left, if this was any indication?
“Oh,” he eloquently replied. They stared at each other for a charged beat before Cloud made another attempt to be assertive. “It’s just that we’re… like… complete opposites. It’s just hard for me to… believe that’d you’d…” And that’s how far he made it before losing momentum.
“Well, there is that old saying, ‘opposites attract. Perhaps there is something to it after all?”
Cloud wished he could do more than just manage an embarrassed huff at Angeal blatantly calling him attractive, but Angeal smiled back at him all the same.
“Please, dig in,” Angeal invited, and led by an example Cloud was happy to follow.
He forked green leaves and a small, perfectly die-cut chunk of yellow and popped it in his mouth. When chewing down on the bite, he could hear the crispness of the vegetables, and flavoured juices exploded in his mouth. It was such a rare experience, he had to breathe and savour it for a moment.
It was still possible to grow some food in Nibelheim if one imported fresh soil from further down the mountain, but they were mostly root vegetables. Nothing like this.
“Is it alright?”
At the sound of Angeal’s voice, Cloud realised he’d closed his eyes, and he reopened them to find a genuine hint of nerves in the burly man in front of him. He nodded and chewed.
“The fertilization impacts the taste. I keep experimenting…”
“It’s great. I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten this much fresh greens at once before in my life!” he said and noted in the back of his mind that the excitement had made him lose the stutter. He tried to hold on to the new flow.
The smile breaking on Angeal’s face made it easier, and so did the deep of approval. A shame Angeal was a man of few words. He could listen to that voice for ages without getting sick of it.
“Where did you manage to grow all this?!”
“I’ll show you after.”
The meal was mostly eaten in comfortable silence. There had been times Cloud had wondered whether comfortable silences was something fictional, but this, he decided, was the ultimate proof it wasn’t.
They managed a little chit chat. Nice little nothings about Zack that warmed his heart, and half-true pleasantries about Shinra. Angeal asked him where he was from, and he hoped Angeal wouldn’t dig so deep into his childhood he’d run out of good things to say. He didn’t.
Some time along the meal, a sweet fragrance spread in the little kitchen, and Cloud realised there was something still in the oven.
“I don’t mean to overdo it, but it’s apple season in my home village, and my mother sends me crates of them,” Angeal said as he slid a sizzling pie out of the oven, leaving Cloud free to gaze at his impressive backside. Would he want to mount it, bite it, or just… squeeze it or sleep on it? He quickly pushed his thoughts aside, hoping that Angeal couldn’t read them in his face as he was served.
He wanted to say something nice, but all he could manage was to stare starry-eyed at his host. The amount of thought that had gone into the evening, and to be there in Angeal's lovely home. Even the sound of the cutlery against the plates rang out pleasantly.
When he took the first morsel of pie, an unseen threshold of happiness broke. Tears collect and overflowed, as if his eyes contained tiny, cracking dams. He had to keep the mouthful on his tongue for longer than usual before he could properly swallow. Once again, he found himself with eyes awkwardly closed.
“Just tell me it’s tears of joy and not an allergic reaction.” Angeal’s voice was warm and steadying.
Cloud huffed a laugh which thankfully cleared his own tension. He was beginning to suspect that though Angeal was a man of few words, the ones he said were often the ones needed. Yet another thing to like about the man.
When he opened his eyes, Angeal’s gaze was already drilling into him, analyzing, calculating, picking him apart with an interest that pricked his skin. He became acutely aware of Angeal’s gravitation again. It made him want to reach out, and he did with his feet, under the table, until they touched Angeal’s.
More, unreadable feelings swirled deep in Angeal’s eyes as the hidden gesture was tentatively reciprocated.
It made him oddly self-aware for the next bite and for the rest of the dessert, really. Though the attention made him uncomfortable, there was no denying that he wanted it. Angeal gave it without discretion, added thrill to the many other feelings that made his blood hiss in his ears.
When done, Cloud rested his hands awkwardly on his thighs, now that he couldn’t occupy them with any delicious food.
“May I help with the dishes?”
Angeal looked at him as if he’d made a joke and carefully brushed up the side of his foot. “Absolutely not.”
Suddenly the width of the table seemed too great a distance. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was just his want, but he rose and walked over to stand in front of his host where he stilled in indecision.
Luckily Angeal didn’t seem to have the same problem.
“It really does suit you well, the uniform, but it sure covers a lot of skin,” Angeal said and reached for his uniform scarf, grabbed it, and slowly began pulling it off.
How many times had he sworn at the uniform regulations that only allowed a single tie for it? 'For safety reasons'. It made sense, but the scarf was famously hated for coming undone at all the wrong moments. Except for this one. This was exactly the right moment, Cloud thought as the stiff fabric scraped against the back of his neck.
“Better,” Angeal said as he dropped it carelessly to the floor, pupils slowly widening.
Cloud felt every nerve in his body going on high alert. “Yeah,” he breathed as a hand curled around the back of his thigh. Signals of desperate welcome fired to his cock, and that in turn, made his face catch fire, because Angeal would surely notice.
And he must have done, because his hand didn’t just linger, it trailed a thin, barely-there line up the back of his thigh. Just a couple of inches, but that was enough for a quiet whine to work its way up his throat.
Angeal’s face turned from curious to grave, and he turned on the chair so that they were facing each other properly. With a suggestive caress, he was invited into the First’s lap. Suddenly his legs felt like jelly, so it wasn’t much of a choice. Not that he minded.
Angeal’s muscles under his legs were enough to make him gasp for breath.
“I always liked the buttons though.” Angeal’s voice was deep and hushed, but up-close it still made his bones resonate with a pleasant buzz. A buzz that turned into a shudder as Angeal’s slid light hands up his thighs, stomach, and chest, over his nipples , to stay at the top button of the uniform shirt.
“ May I?”
“Fuck,” Cloud whispered as one part of him wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, and another wanted to take in the way Angeal devoured him with his eyes. No one had looked at him quite like that before.
“Is that a yes?”
“Absolutely,” he managed before shyness won, and his eyelids closed. In darkness, he could reach for what he wanted, and his hands skated up Angeal’s chest, not as explorative and daring as Angeal’s, but it was enough to take the edge off his need . They settled at the back of Angeal’s neck, ready to cling to it if the feeling of falling would get more intense.
“You’ve been with a man before?” Angeal’s breath was hot and damp over his face. The first button came undone, fabric was carefully folded aside, skin brushed lightly in greeting, and then hands dropped to the next. It was as if he was being unwrapped like a precious gift.
“Yes.” A soft kiss landed on the line of his jaw.
“And you’ve prepped?” The way Angeal could project both calm and intensity was intoxicating. Bewitching almost.
“Yes,” he managed though his answer felt like barbed wires in his throat. The hem of his shirt was pulled out, and large, calloused hands began lightly playing with his chest.
“That’s more forward than I expected.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, and then he lost the thread of conversation entirely. He made an embarrassing, garbled noise when Angeal delicately began playing with his nipple. It was a battle whether to roll his hips or not, and his hands buried into dark locks where they held on.
“When I see you, I don’t know if you’re a man made of flesh and bone or a tartlet of white chocolate with powdered cocoa on top.”
“Fuck,” he whispered again and failed to resist pressing his chest into Angeal’s large, calloused hand.
“And this right here,” Angeal pinched his sensitised nipple, “looks perfectly edible.”
Cloud broke a needy whine, and he tilted his head back, lifted his chest, and pulled on Angeal's neck. A hand slid underneath him, lifted him , and then wet warmth was on him, softly kissing and suckling his pebbled, pink nub. It had never felt this good before.
And now he had to roll his hips, though they found no traction where he sat perched on Angeal’s palm. Still, that in itself was beyond arousing. It was an unsophisticated fantasy to imagine Angeal handling him as if he weighed a feather, and now he’d gotten a glimpse of it in reality.
Before he lost sensation or gained too much of it, he was lowered. A trail of kisses left little cooling flecks up to his neck.
He opened his eyes to a dusting of pink over sharp features, eyes darkened with lust, and lips still glistening with saliva. He took Angeal’s face in his hands, shivered at the prickly facial hair, and he leaned in to kiss that plump lower lip.
His fire was met with unpretentious but reserved welcome. As if Angeal was waiting for something, or perhaps testing him. For better or worse, that only fueled his fire. He kissed and licked, coaxed in every way that he knew. With some desperation, he tried to etch the sensation of their lips meeting into his memory, as it was now his new sexual highpoint in life.
The dirty sensation of him leaking into his underwear from contact more befitting of a teenager than two grown men, was such an incredible turn-on. For whatever reason he felt like he did about Angeal, it was all-consuming.
A splayed hand on the small of his back rocked him gently into the hand that idly played with his chest, and then it clicked: He was being teased. A pang of arousal moved through him, mixed with undertones of anxiety from the chance that he was reading the situation wrong.
He broke the kiss to search for an answer in Angeal’s face. Instead, he noted how mussed Angeal’s hair had become. His t-shirt had rumpled too, and exposed a little bit of exquisite muscles. Though Cloud found his next thought dumb sooner than he thought it, he noticed Angeal wasn’t wearing a belt in his jeans. Easy access.
“I could show you the balcony, if you’d like. And the rest of the apartment, though it isn’t big,” Angeal offered, his tone unreadable, and at odds with his vivid eyes.
But if this was Angeal’s way of making sure he knew what he wanted, he couldn’t afford to botch it. “Show me your bed, or any other flat surface you can lay me on.” Shyness made him blink excessively, and he played with a lock of dark hair to distract himself. It was soft and shiny. Springy, thick, and healthy. Impressive, like the rest of Angeal.
“You’d take the kitchen floor?” Angeal asked with what Cloud understood as embellished watchfulness. The question made the air hard to breathe, in the best kind of way.
“I’d take you anywhere,” he replied quietly, grinning through his arousal because at least he was certain of that.
A finger grazed the line between his buttocks over the fabric of his trousers, a welcome pointer on Angeal’s thoughts. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Whether that was a threat, a command, or a promise of some sort, he’d gladly take it.
He leaned forward and grazed his teeth against Angeal’s neck to hide his burning face. “I only bite if believe it’ll get me what I want.”
“And what do you want?” The velvety boom of Angeal’s voice turned hoarse.
“Fuck me.” He took the cartilage of Angeal’s ear loosely between his teeth, but quickly let it go as he was lifted into the air and marched through a small corridor to be tossed onto a bed. It knocked the air from his lungs, and with the next breath, his body filled with arousal to the point of it being agonising.
“We’ll see,” Angeal said as he stood by the foot end of the bed, pinning him down with his weighty presence. Cloud was practically shaking from lust when Angeal bent over him to tug his clothes off.
“Fuck you’re adorable,” Angeal grunted peeling off Cloud’s top, not bothering the least to hide his hunger. “I just want to eat you.”
“Later,” Cloud breathed and hiked his legs to his chest as soon as they were freed from their fabric prison, exposing himself. He’d never seen anyone get lube so fast.
Angeal set to shedding his own clothes with military efficiency. At the sight of his rippling chest muscles, Cloud hoped he’d get a chance to taste, to ride, to rub up against them endlessly, later. But when Angeal opened his fly and pushed his jeans and boxers down together, Cloud could feel his face falling and his pupils strain from the rapid expansion.
“Wow,” he said, for the lack of anything else to say. He’d never seen anyone so big . And now that he had, he knew he wanted nothing else but to take all of it inside.
“You think you can handle this?” Angeal asked and gave his hard self a few, demonstrative strokes. The sight sliced Cloud’s arousal open like a wound.
“Yes,” he managed, sounding far more confident than he was. But that didn’t matter because the will was there. Deep, throbbing, wanting will.
Fingers carrying copious amounts of lube brushed up against his hole, and he was throbbing there too. Wet dripped between his cheeks and down his crack. It could have been embarrassing, the way he had regressed to a horny, pulsing mess. Then again, one didn’t get invited to fuck a First every day.
Angeal’s low rumbling hum when his fingers slipped inside had more of Cloud’s arousal gushing forth, and the familiar stretch had never felt so good. Angeal grunted, shoved Cloud higher on the bed and climbed on top and greedily mouthed at the creamy, freckled skin.
“Please!” Cloud hissed and pulled on Angeal’s face so that he’d come to fully lie on top. Angeal’s weight alone had his head spinning. And then he felt it. The warm, soft, blunt tip of the largest cock he’d ever seen. So fucking hot, the way Angeal rubbed it against his hole. Suddenly he needed something of Angeal in his mouth. He pulled on sturdy black locks to get it, and keened. He could hear his voice echoing down Angeal’s throat.
Angeal kept teasing him until his arms and legs wrapped around the First, clinging, grinding, pulling, until he was near frantic.
Only then did Angeal thrust against his entrance.
A wavering moan morphing into a cry ripped from his chest. Instead of the satisfying burn he expected, the pressure snapped, and Angeal’s cock slid down his crack into the sheets.
Disappointed, hot and volatile, erupted from nowhere. “Fuck!” he roared but was silenced by a tongue shoved into his mouth. It claimed him like Angeal’s cock wasn’t. It fucked him in a cruel torment that only had him aching for more.
The longed-for pressure returned, lined up with him, promised him carnal realization beyond comprehension. Fingertips slathered with slick slid alongside. They entered him, roughly spreading him apart, and then the warm, blunt pressure advanced. Pleasure tipped over into pain almost instantly, and he tensed up so quickly he was afraid he’d pull a muscle.
“Turn around,” Angeal grunted, but manhandled Cloud onto all fours before he’d had a chance to get his bearings. Gods, if Angeal could just fuck him with the same certainty–
His thoughts were interrupted by Angeal leaning flush over him, brushing his hair aside to expose the patch of skin behind his ears.
“You’re going to have to relax now, can you do that?”
Fingers traced his crack once more and played greedily with his entrance.
“Yes,” he breathed and meant it with the entirety of his being. Every cell vibrated with intention to make this happen.
“Good,” Angeal hummed into his ear. He tried to count how many fingers pushed inside. Three? Maybe four? It was intense, and he narrowed his lips to blow out his breath slower as he willed his body into submission.
“Good. A little more.” He shuddered and moaned when Angeal sucked at his neck. It stung so sweetly, and all he wanted was more. He arched his back, imagined himself as a spongy, squishy, elastic being who could do this.
He whined in complaint when Angeal moved away, but all was forgiven when that sweet pressure returned against his aching, twitching hole. A soothing hand on his lower back reminded him to stay loose, and then overbearing pressure threatened to tear him asunder. At this point, he wouldn’t even mind, but his body stiffened with a frightened cry anyway.
From there, things took a different turn. He was shoved flat down on the mattress.
The pressure didn’t return to him where he wanted it. Instead, large, firm hands on his buttocks forcefully squeezed them together. Between them a thickness like an arm rubbed frenzied in the plentiful slick between his crack, grazing his sensitised rim from the wrong angle in a cruel flirt.
Sheets bunched up underneath him, forming edges and bumps in the wrong places, granting both more and fewer sensations than he would have wanted. He felt perfectly snared by the bedding, and by the way Angeal clamped his ass together.
It wasn’t sophisticated, elegant, or even that satisfying, but it was horny beyond reason. That Angeal was using him this crudely had him screaming with abandon into the pillows. He imagined the sight of the red, overfilled, sizable organ dancing up and down between his pale cheeks, and thought it was the hottest thing he’d ever lived through.
Angeal’s pace had been frenzied from the start, and all too soon the rhythm was lost. Cloud may have imagined feeling the balls that slapped against him firm up, and when Angeal came with a hoarse shout, he was teetering on the edge. Lash after lash of hot seed buried his hole in new, wet, slippery liquids, again reminding him of what he hadn't properly received.
Greedy fingers sought his insides, pushed the fresh fluids in, sought out his good spot, and began a formidable assault on it. An arm reached between him and the mattress, closed around his pitifully neglected cock and coated that too in warm molten pleasure.
It was too much to even register before he too was screaming his pleasure, shaking so violently from it, he thought his bones would shatter.
Angeal was gorgeous and gorgeously hot . He became even more so in Cloud’s eyes when his every touch turned from feverish to tender.
He was carefully arranged on the bed, at a safe distance from the veritable puddles they’d created. Angeal nestled close, seamlessly transforming all that lust into affection.
“Holy shit,” Cloud huffed when his breathing had returned close to normal.
Angeal gave his agreement in the shape of a benevolent hum.
“Can we try that again, some time?” His skin was sore. Inflamed. Aching. He could feel bruises forming on his backside, and he absolutely could not contain his enthusiasm for doing it all over again.
“As many times as you’d like.”
“Really?” Cloud couldn’t wash the hesitation from his voice, because he was himself after all. It was one thing to pull this off once. Another thing to accept the possibility of it happening again.
“What? You take it as a small feat to rile me up like that? Is that a backhanded way of calling me easy?”
Cloud huffed an exasperated laugh and delighted at the sore muscles in his stomach.
“Never.” Warmth poured from blue eyes and wrapped around him. Trapped him even.
“If you stay the night, I’ll make you the best breakfast you’ve had in years.”
The considerate, not to mention persuasive, way of being asked to stay over stunned him into silence. Perhaps Angeal misinterpreted it because a large hand came to cup his backside and rub it fondly, with just a small dash of possessiveness. He’d gone hard for lesser things, but for now, he could feel sated exhaustion dragging him under.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he mumbled. A kiss to his brow, and the gentle stroking through his hair had him smiling the last moments of being awake.
How had he gotten to be so lucky?