FF7 – Things That Go Hump in the Night
Title: Things That Go Hump in the Night
Author: Atra Materia
Fandom/Characters: Final Fantasy VII – Rufus/Reno/Scarlet
Rating/Warnings: Adult – Het, yaoi, and tentacles. Yes, tentacles.
Summary: A Turk goes looking for beer – and finds the reason he’s going to need it.
Disclaimer: All content relating directly to Final Fantasy VII, including but not limited to its characters, events, and places, is the property of its original creators.
Hojo walks the halls at night, after everyone goes home. His experiments make him glow in the dark, so he doesn’t need the light to see. Sometimes, he takes his creatures out for walks just like other people do their dogs, and they look for things to take back to the lab.
It wasn’t the rumour that unsettled Reno. It was that it was not, in fact, the craziest thing he had heard that week. Compared to some of the whispers in the Shin-Ra breakroom, the Legend of Hojo’s Glow was downright believable – and the idea that Reno would believe anything that came out of Elena’s mouth was the scariest thought of all.
“Geez, Ellie.” The Turk groaned. “Where do you get this stuff?”
“Old Man Shinra’s secretary told me.” Elena paused just long enough to stuff a cracker into her mouth, barely swallowing before she launched into the rest of her spiel. “She heard it from Nicolette, you know her, she works in the cafeteria, and Nicolette heard it from Tanja, and Tanja heard it from that new girl down in receiving. But the new girl saw it herself, she was working late and -“
“Ellie.” Reno dropped his head into his hand – the one that wasn’t holding the bottle. “Go home.”
“Home?” The blonde girl blinked. “But it’s only four o’clock, and we’re on duty until -“
“Ellie, we’re Turks. We set our own hours. Now, go home and have a nice – bath or chick flick or whatever it is you do when you’re not here -” Driving me nuts. “- and that way, you’ll get out of here before it gets dark and Hojo goes walking.”
“Oh.” Another blink. “Yea, I hadn’t thought about that. The last time I was here late, I broke a vase, and the security cameras caught it and they took it out of my paycheck. For three weeks.” The memory brought with it a scowl, and Elena rose; shrugging on her coat. “Thanks, Reno.”
“Anytime, doll.” The table shuddered as Reno tossed his feet atop it, his eyes fixed on the departure of the other Turk. She really did have a cute little ass – but that mouth! It needed something in it, something to shut her up.
“Like what, your gun?” Rude dropped into the just-vacated chair.
“Something like that.” The redhead grinned and took a drink. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but it wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have been willing to say had he known he had an audience.
“Is that why there’s a bottle in yours most of the time? Keep people from getting similar ideas about you?” This, from the man flicking a freshly-popped cap into the wastebasket.
“You got it in one.” Reno’s tongue curled suggestively around the bottle’s rim. “I ought to teach Ellie how to drink.”
“You ought to learn how to get vomit out of carpet, too.”
“I’ll teach her to drink in a bar. Where they have people whose sole duties are to clean up that sort of thing.” His feet slid away and hit the floor, and he wobbled toward the fridge. A blast of cold air hit his face, and continued to assault him for several seconds as he stared in disbelief. “Rude.”
There was no reply, but it was a safe bet the bald man had at least lifted a brow.
“Is that the last beer in your hand?”
“Mm.”
That was a yes if Reno had ever had heard one. “Did it occur to you to say anything?”
“Yes, but you were talking about Elena’s ass, and I thought you’d enjoy that more.”
“Or you thought you’d take advantage of it.” A snort.
“Mm.”
“And I suppose you’ll want me to go on the run, seeing as I’m already up.”
“Well, you are already up…”
He didn’t have to turn to see the grin, any more than he’d had to turn to catch the quirk of the brow. Glass rattled as he kicked the refrigerator shut – alas, it was the glass of pickle jar and saran-wrapped plate, and not the siren song of a bottle forgotten in the crisper. “I’ll be back, then.” His fingers closed over his own coat, which he slung over his shoulder rather than donning. His shirt was half-untucked, and his pants had a stain from where Elena had dropped a squeezable-cheese coated cracker into his lap, and he couldn’t look much more unprofessional than he already did – but he also didn’t care, and they all knew him at the shop around the corner, anyway.
The elevator pinged as if it had every intention of coming to fetch Reno, but when the numbers for the thirty-second floor lit up, it stopped and never restarted. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, punctuating each word with a press of the ‘Down’ button. “It’s thirty minutes to rush hour, and you’re holding the fucking lift? What are you loading, an elephant?”
If they heard him on the thirty-second floor – which was entirely possible, the way he was yelling by the end – it was to no avail. He swore under his breath and spun away, heading for the stairs. It wasn’t the shortest of walks, but if they really were loading an elephant – and very little surprised Reno, anymore – everyone who couldn’t take the west elevator would be on the east. He’d spend more time waiting for space to squeeze in than he would tromping down under his own power.
It was just coincidence that the doors to the stairwell were positioned adjacent to the lifts. He wasn’t planning on making a detour through level thirty-two, or anything.
The door clanged in his wake, and the lights above his head began to buzz. They were powered by a cheaper form of Mako than those in the main halls, glowing a harsh yellow and prone to going out at inopportune times. Like when a Turk was on his way down the stairs on important Turk business. How Old Man Shinra thought anyone would find their way to safety if there was ever a fire was beyond Reno. Possibly, the tycoon had every intention of thinning out the ranks during exactly such an event.
His curse echoed hollowly off the walls. One hand tight on the rail, he lowered a foot with care; seeking out the next step. At this rate, he would have been better off riding the elephant – but then, he couldn’t see the outline of the door opening onto the next level, and that made him wonder if the power had gone out in the entire building. The last thing he needed was to be stuck on a crowded lift with the day crew gabbing on about Marcia’s baby this and Tanaka’s wife that. He heard enough gossip from Elena without getting it straight from the source.
Hojo walks the halls at night, after everyone’s gone home.
But everyone hadn’t gone home yet, had they? Reno snorted and took the next step. He had to stop listening to that girl. It was the darkness. It was enough to put anyone ill at ease; let alone a poor sod who’d had to put up with Ellie, the Shin-Ra rumour mill, and an unfortunate lack of booze.
The floor creaked and gave slightly under his feet, signalled that he’d arrived on the next platform. He had no intentions of trying to find his way down in the dark and having only a broken neck to show for it, and found the doorhandle instead.
It wasn’t pitch black in the corridor, but what illumination there was came from the emergency lights; their bluish gleam giving a sickly hue to his skin. Toward the end of the hall – or the corner; it was hard to tell – there was a brighter point, a point that didn’t quite seem to mesh with the small bulbs lining the floor.
His experiments make him glow in the dark.
Now that was just silly. People didn’t glow in the dark, no matter what they’d been injesting, injecting, or rolling around in like a pig – or did they? There were boys in SOLDIER with exceptionally bright eyes, who, supposedly, had received some sort of augmentation – perhaps that was where it came from. It wouldn’t be hard to associate the side effect of a drug with its maker – but if simple exposure to Mako did it, well, they’d all be shining like stars over the plate. Maybe it was an open office door, the sunset filtering through the window. He moved toward it.
He doesn’t need the light to see.
Were there even windows in this part of the tower? What floor was he on, again?
“Aheh -“
The sound, soft as it was, made Reno jump; his head snapping to the side. It wasn’t quite a laugh and wasn’t quite a cry, but there was something familiar about it nonetheless.
Sometimes, he takes his creatures out for walks just like other people do their dogs.
But it wasn’t the sort of noise an animal would have made. It was a human voice, and a feminine one at that.
And they look for things to take back to the lab. People to take back to the lab,
His hand fell to the gun holstered at his hip. Call him paranoid, call him an idiot for listening to Elena’s ridiculous tales, hell, call him a paranoid idiot; but the fact remained that it was dark and there was someone else on the floor. It could have been an overachiever working late; but then, it could have been a thief, a spy, or one of those crazy Rufus fangirls that kept sneaking in. Better safe than sorry. He clicked off the safety.
“No – oh – no, don’t!”
It could have been a rapist. He was fairly certain now that he recognized the voice, though he couldn’t place it. Was it the President’s secretary, or that cafeteria girl?
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ask to stop before.”
Blue eyes blinked. That one, one the other hand –
“Oh – no, it isn’t you! It’s – it’s – oh, something’s wrong! Why isn’t it listening to me?”
It was indeed a door. It was half ajar and the voices, as well as the glow, were coming through it. He crept forward and planted his back against the jamb, the gun at the ready.
“Get it off me!”
The woman’s voice became shrill, and suddenly, Reno could understand why he hadn’t been able to identify it before. He’d never heard it any other way – it was always snapping a command, or lashing out in anger, or laughing that piercing laugh that grated on him like nails on a chalkboard. He leaned around and peered cautiously through the door.
Yes, it was Scarlet; sprawled nearly naked on the floor inside the workroom. Her dress was unzipped, its top fallen to pool in her arms and reveal the sides of her breasts, and the high slits at its sides pulled up to do the same for her legs. He’d never much cared for the weapons developer – and the feeling seemed to be mutual – but he had to admit she had a nice body. Curvier than Elena. Her legs were wound with lengths of dark rope; tangling her ankles, looping her calves and thighs. If he’d ever been given an invitation to come in and make use of a helpless woman, this was it.
…helpless. Scarlet. He nearly snorted again, and caught himself only at the last second. There was probably a gun just out of sight, and he’d find it right in his face if he pulled out the one he kept in his pants. Hell, for all he knew, she kept one in her skirt and it was still between her legs. Where the ropes were going. Maybe that’s what they were for; hold it in and free up her hands for – what?
He wasn’t certain how long he’d actually been watching when he came to his senses, but it wasn’t the thought that brought him around – it was the fact that the shapes around Scarlet’s legs were moving, and doing so of their own accord. Serpentine, they slithered, shifted; leaving glistening trails along her skin. Her back arched, and she cried out – yes, that was it; the same sound that had drawn him down in the first place. No wonder it had seemed so familiar – Reno had never heard her make it, but he’d heard it from enough other women to know well enough what it was.
What the hell?
Sometimes, he takes his creatures out for fucks –
But that was as ridiculous as any of the other thoughts that had run through his head. Even Hojo couldn’t be that messed up. Could he? He opted not to think too long on it – and it hadn’t been Hojo’s voice that had come in response to Scarlet’s, anyway.
Why was he standing in the hall, again?
“Evenin’, boss.” Reno grinned as he sauntered inside; clicking the gun back to safe mode and returning it to its home.
“I thought you answered to Tseng?” Rufus spared him little more than a lazy, brow-lofted glance; his attention fixed on the woman who writhed at his feet. The, “Oh, God, no!” that came from said woman suggested she was nowhere nearly as pleased to see Reno as Reno was to see – well, what he was seeing of her.
“Tseng doesn’t sign my paychecks.” The Turk canted his head, his own gaze drifting from Scarlet’s smeared lipstick to Rufus’ lap. The white pants were undone, and the man’s erect and lipstick-smeared cock protruding from the cloth. “I don’t think you should sign hers, either. She’s not doing much of a job.”
“So help me, Reno, if I ever get out of this -” Scarlet growled, raising her head to fix him with a baleful glare. Strands of golden hair plastered to her cheeks, wet with – sweat? Tears? Reno decided he preferred the latter notion.
“Pretty good reason not to help you, if you ask me.”
Rufus chuckled softly. “She’s got other things on her mind.”
“And in her cunt, apparently.” Reno’s eyes find their way to the source of the tendrils; which, it seemed, was also the source of the glow. Even so, he couldn’t quite make out what it was – A potted plant gone horribly wrong? A very lost octopus? Dark Nation? “That thing animal, vegetable, or mineral, and should I shoot it?”
“It’s a weapon.” Scarlet sucked down a breath, then groaned as the tendrils twisted between her thighs. “Or at least, it was meant to be. It’s too friendly. Thing, go introduce yourself to Reno.”
“So I noticed.” The redhead grimaced and took a step back. “No, thank you. I’ve got enough problems juggling my social schedule without that clamouring for a place.” He hadn’t needed to worry, for the whatsit showed no inclination toward obeying its maker – if indeed Scarlet had made it. Normally, she dealt in metal and Mako, not animal matter. That was more up –
“Got time to lend a hand to a friend?” Rufus’ murmur shook him from his reverie. “Or, say, a mouth to the person who signs your paychecks?”
“Maybe.” Reno stroked his lip with the tip of his tongue. He could still taste the alcohol, though there wasn’t much of it. Booze, or sex. Booze, or – Yea, sex. He’d known the answer to that before he crossed the threshold. Rufus hadn’t even needed to ask, which was no doubt why the man had put no effort whatsoever into the pick-up. They all knew the outcome of the game. Why waste time playing it?
“Rufus -“
Well, perhaps there was one person who didn’t know. The woman’s eyes lifted, wet and wavering. Reno couldn’t tell if she was hurt or angry, and rapidly came to the conclusion that he didn’t care one way the other – no more than Rufus apparently did. The president’s son gave a careless flick of half-gloved fingers, and turned his attention to the Turk.
It wasn’t as if they made a point of publicizing their affair, and it was probably better that way. Old Man Shinra would have a coronary if he knew his boy swung both ways, and as nice as it might be to have him out of the way, he’d be the sort to rewrite his will on his deathbed. Reno wasn’t in it, but his lover was, and he’d be damned if he missed out on the sweet life because a vengeful Scarlet couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Maybe we should let her play, too,” he murmured; sliding onto the desk beside Rufus and settling a hand on a white-clad thigh. His thumb flicked up, drifting lightly along the side of the other man’s cock.
“Mm.” Noncommittal. Reno couldn’t make a yes or a no or a maybe out of it, and he couldn’t ask for clarification with someone else’s mouth on his. A tongue slipped through one set of lips and into the other; twining, tasting. Rufus’ hand curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, just above the tie that held it in place, and began to press down; forcing him to break the kiss he’d been pulled into in the first place. He lowered his head; not so much out of obedience as out of lust.
“Scarlet.” Rufus’ voice cut through his thoughts once more, and he paused with his mouth just above the waiting prick. The man to whom it belonged was smirking, and rather cruelly at that. “Be a dear and tend to Reno, would you?”
There was no reply, and he wondered if the woman had already left. Then –
“Not for all the fucking lost Mako of Nibelheim.” A ragged breath followed the declaration, and with it a scrape that Reno assumed was Scarlet hauling herself to her feet. She must have managed to free herself from the tendrils’ grasp – or she was just going to pull its pot right along with her.
“Suit yourself.” Rufus shrugged, stroking the back of Reno’s head. “You know where my door is. I won’t expect to see you back through it.”
A startled gasp – had it been his, or hers? Was that a legitimate threat? Whether it was or not, Scarlet must have taken it as such. Lips pressed into a tight, thin line, she crept to the desk – perhaps she hadn’t risen after all; for she was on her knees, her torso sinking to the floor as her hands stretched out and pulled her forward, lifting once more once she reached them.
“I’ve got no use for someone who can’t follow orders.” Black-clad fingers pulled the tie from Reno’s hair and commenced running through the loose strands – a surprisingly soft touch, for a man who’d just threatened to dismiss a lover for a single infraction. “You can follow orders, can’t you, Turk?”
“Is pointing out that this isn’t your office and that isn’t your door considered following orders, sir?” Reno cocked his head, grinning.
“They’re all my doors.” The other hand lifted, waving as carelessly as before. “Just do your job, Turk, and stop worrying about where you’re doing it.”
“I live but to serve.” Reno’s lips sealed around the head of the man’s cock, and his tongue rose to meet the same. The taste of semen already tainted it, undoubtedly drawn out by Scarlet’s earlier efforts; for the bitterness of perfume and cosmetics greeted him as well. He closed his eyes; the tip of his tongue probing gently at the slit in the tip, lapping up the droplets there.
Fingers came to the front of his pants – fingers with long nails – and he shifted; resting his head on Rufus’ thigh. A groan escaped him when the fabric fell away; his member springing eagerly free. He thrust his hips toward the edge of the desk, expecting to find a mouth waiting there, and met only the air.
“Pay attention to what you’re doing, Turk.” The hand in his hair tightened, holding his head in place. He would have protested – tried to protest – but it came out muffled, garbled. Resigned, he drew Rufus’ cock deeper into his mouth; his tongue pressed to its underside, rubbing against it as it slid toward his throat. “Better.”
It must have been better indeed, for there was an absent tone to Rufus’ voice that said more for the quality of Reno’s work than the word itself. He moved his hand toward his lover’s crotch; finding the base of his shaft, twisting around to toy with the delicate skin of the sac that hung beneath. He cupped it in his palm, and squeezed gently. A wordless murmur of approval; Rufus’ hips rocking up in much the way Reno’s had.
A sudden warmth encased his own cock similarly – Scarlet must have finally gotten over her reticence. He gritted his teeth; only realizing what he was doing when they met flesh rather than enamel and backing off quickly. Even so, the mistake earned him a rough yank to his hair; nearly pulling his head up and away. Good thing he’d already released. His tongue stroked the offended skin apologetically; even as the woman’s swirled around the ridge beneath the head of his prick. If his mouth hadn’t been full, he would have given her a Good girl – but then, Scarlet wasn’t the type to take condescension from anyone other than Rufus, and she might well have bitten down and not let go.
Someday, he’d get Rufus to tie her up properly, and do it then.
He withdrew just far enough to draw a quick breath – all that the hand would allow – and released it slowly through his mouth; warm air washing over moistened cock. When his lips closed once more, Rufus’ shaft was wedged neatly into the back of his mouth, probing his throat. He shuddered, and rolled the sac in his palm.
Something was creeping between his own legs, and it didn’t feel like fingers – or a hand – or even a tongue. It was an odd sensation; cool, wet, and slightly less rigid than a penis; but too flexible and solid to be the aforementioned muscle of the mouth.
Oh – no – no – Where had he heard that before? He twisted, trying to pull away. Scarlet could give him his cock back and go off to sulk or plot revenge or daydream about his demise, for all he cared, as long as she took that damn thing with her. He hadn’t come in to be raped by a mutant fern. It was a futile effort, though; he could wallow on the desktop and turn his body any way he wanted, but he really needed his head to make a proper escape, and his head was held firmly in Rufus’ lap. The man must have assumed his movements were an attempt to evade the rush of semen that was coming, for his hand began to bear down more heavily still. Well, crap.
Scarlet, however, had no such compulsions about releasing Reno. The woman rocked back on her heels; the rush of breath that followed the abandonment of his cock audible even above his groans and Rufus’ pleasured hiss. Well, he had it back, but to what end? No good one, it seemed, for the tentacle had coiled around and commended tugging as if it was a hand – and there was a second slithering past his shaft. He clenched his thighs, determined to keep it from travelling further, but it refused to be defeated; instead crawling over his thigh and around his hip. Oh, no, oh, no.
He could hear laughter, soft and feminine, quickly rising to the shrill pitch he was more acquainted with. “He said I should tend you, Reno.” If he could just reach her – he’d show her tending – “He didn’t say how.“
And didn’t care, either, from the lack of reaction to Scarlet’s words. The hand in Reno’s hair flattened, smoothing over the strands as if this was supposed to soothe the man about to have a land squid fucking his ass. “Almost there…”
Yea, it was almost there, alright. The tendril probed experimentally at the bud between Reno’s cheeks – and it wasn’t as if he’d never had anything in that hole; hell, he’d had the thing that was in his mouth in it; but the thing in his mouth wasn’t a damn Hojo-brand Mako monster sex toy! He sucked down what breath he could past the thing in his mouth, which was twitching as it neared its release, and tensed the muscles in his ass. Get if off get it off get it off – Oh, that was a brilliant choice of words.
The tendril poked twice more at the hole, then thrust forward with all the force it could muster, which was a surprising amount. Reno gasped, releasing Rufus’ balls in favour of slamming his hands down on the desk and pushing back. The back of his head met Rufus’ palm; the two engaged in a silent war that lasted before several seconds before the latter finally gave way.
“Well, if you prefer that to me…” Rufus waved his hand a third time. “By all means. Scarlet…” His finger curled, beckoning.
“What – no! That’s not -” The tendril twisted, squirming deeper. Reno groaned and rolled onto his back, his head thudding against the desk. From the corner of his eye, he could see Scarlet tucking against Rufus’ legs, her lips and eyes closing as the man’s length found its way into her mouth.
There was something inside of him, and it wasn’t a cock. Had it not been attached to – whatever it was it was attatched to – it might not have been that bad of an experience. It shaped itself to fit the cleft between his cheeks and puffed up against the rim of his ass, rubbing it gently, and writhed about inside of him in ways that a cock couldn’t have dreamed of doing. But damnit, it was cool and it was slimy and it was coming from God-knew-what, and that just killed the entire possibility of enjoying it.
The one that had taken hold of his member seemed to gather that he wasn’t having a good time, for it renewed its efforts; wrapping tightly around his shaft a number of times, then poking gently at its tip just as he had done to Rufus’. Copycat. He scowled, then lifted his hips. Eh, what the hell. This is the only fuck I’m getting today, apparently – unless I can get sympathy sex from Elena.
You know what, I don’t really want sympathy sex. I want a nice, scalding shower.
Encouraged by the motion, the stroking tendril gave a pulse. The one in his ass, meanwhile, burrowed in deeper – I hope it doesn’t think it’s moving in for the winter – then pulled back once it reached whatever limit it had set for itself; settling thereafter into a slow, rhythmic motion much like it had been inflicting on Scarlet when first he’d spotted it. He curled a hand into a fist; nails digging into his palm. “C’mon…”
Had it heard him? The better question might be – had it somehow understood what he’d said, and was that worse than the prospect of it being a mindless love machine? Certainly, it sped up; squeezing, one coil at a time, from the top of his prick to the bottom and back again. He shifted atop the desk; trying to ignore the thing squirming within him and concentrate instead on the one stroking him like a woman’s hand. Yea, think about women, think about what you’re going to do to Scarlet if you ever do find her alone in the dark.
That was a rather pleasant thought, actually; albeit one he probably shouldn’t share with anyone else. He hissed a breath through gritted teeth; his hips rising and falling, the sac beneath his cock growing tight, the fluid that rushed through it spurting up and out. A harsh tremor racked his form; shuddering waves that coaxed a growl and a curse as his hips bucked between the tentacles.
Did the thing itself feel pleasure? Did it still need to get off? Oh please God no.
For once, his prayers were answered – the coils around his cock loosened, and the thing in his ass slid away. He grimaced and shuddered again, grasping at his pants as he rolled to the edge of the desk.
When he opened his eyes, both Scarlet and Rufus were peering down at him – one from the desk, the other from the floor. He must have landed flat on his back – pity he couldn’t use that to explain away the pain in his backside.
“Think we should market it?”
“…as what?” Incredulously, he stared back at Scarlet.
“A toy for lonely women. Lonely Turks. Party game. Hell if I know.” She shrugged, sliding her dress back onto her shoulders. “I just hate to call anything a loss.”
“Scarlet.” Weakly, he hauled himself to his feet and zipped up his pants. A hand dropped to the woman’s shoulder, rubbing idly along skin and silk. “Call this one a loss. For the sake of Rufus’ favourite asshole, if nothing else.”
She pursed her lips and glanced to the man in question, who nodded – but not before a grin had crept onto the corners of his mouth. “Alright. Would you mind putting it back for me, though? I really don’t want to go in there again…”
Reno cringed. “Where did you get it?” Even as he asked the question, he knew he didn’t really want to hear the answer.
“I had Hojo leave it outside the lab for me.”
“Scarlet.” He patted her shoulder, conveying as much condescension as he could with a gesture. “Go to hell.”
***
Reno dropped into the empty chair, and instantly wished he hadn’t. His ass was never going to be the same.
“…why?” Paper rustled as Rude lowered the daily news – which probably had a girly magazine hidden in it, but at the moment, Reno didn’t really want to look. Crap. He’d just used his outside voice again, hadn’t he. “The hell happened to you?”
He spent a moment considering responses to that – I’ve been listening to Elena. I’ve been tracking down new stories for Elena. I’m filing a sexual harassment suit against Scarlet and Hojo. Yes, those would go over very well. No, this was the sort of thing you kept to yourself, even if you were talking to your best friend.
“Believe me, you’re better off not knowing.”
“Mm.” Fortunately, his best friend was Rude, and what Rude did know was when to keep his mouth shut. The paper rattled, and came back up. “…did you get the beer?”
Author’s Notes: If the litany about Hojo looks familiar, that’s because it was also in Twelfth Night.