[ Everything and anything is what he wants to say. Those three simple words sit poised on the end of his tongue while he taps and rolls the mouthpiece of his hose over his bottom lip, thinking and choosing his next words. As spontaneous as he can be, he knows that there's a time and place for such behavior and Roche knows that now isn't one of those moments. ]
Ha. I... Given the circumstances I'd gladly take whatever you saw fit to offer, as would I be happy to give whatever you'd ask of me.
[ Because what he truly yearns for — hearing the sweet, cacophonous roar of both of their engines skirting the red and singing together — was nearly impossible in the resort. The vehicles in the garage were good, yes. Good, beautiful, and begging to let their songs be heard after months and years of being kept silent if the old-timers were to be believed, but they weren't the ones Roche wanted to share. Their frames couldn't handle one SOLDIER let alone two, not like his girl could.
He misses that red beauty more than ever. ]
Even if I only manage to steal moments like this. When I said I wanted to know you, I meant it, Cloud.
[ his heart is a metronome, ticking in the silence, eyes peering straight ahead. for a moment -- he loses himself in his own mind, as if trying to parse the words bit by bit, not sure of what to make of them. heat spreads across his body in waves, reminiscent of wildfire, and any real words he could manage are clinging to the confines of his throat.
he blinks once. then twice. in the dark, both of their eyes glow wildly, like the spark of an engine. cloud shifts closer, the heel of his palm pressing down against roche's thigh. ]
...We don't have any bikes here.
[ no shit, buddy. a beat. ]
I...
[ the strawberry haze coaxes something inexplicably truthful out of him -- something honest. ]
Don't think-- I know myself either...
[ he swallows. ]
...Hey. [ a drawn out silence. ] ...Let me touch you.
[ Roche isn't sure what makes him laugh first — his own insistence, or Cloud's weight pressing into his thigh for a heartbeat or three. It's most likely the former, but maybe it's also because the sudden contact tickles. Or it surprises him. Either way, it's not a bad laugh, more... subdued, easy and personal than it is wild and meant for the world to hear. He spends hundreds and thousands of miles with his needle touching the red that he sometimes forgets that it's actually okay to slide into a lower gear and let the road tell him when to kick it up a notch.
He exhales smoke through the corner of his mouth like one of Wutai's great serpents and tilts his head a little, as if he's considering when in reality his mind was already made up.
Roche leans back into the booth and stretches his arms up over the back of it, his pipe and hose dangling harmlessly from his fingers for a few moments. It's the closest thing to submission he'll ever get like this, and he nods once. ]
Go right ahead. My hands'll stay right up here if that's where you want 'em.
[ If Cloud doesn't know himself? It's really the least Roche can do — letting him go at his own pace. Let that engine warm up on its own. ]
[ he shouldn't be surprised -- and he shouldn't be growing shy, but in spite of his moment of boldness, the sudden spike in audacity, he fights the urge to whittle away into the shadows. cloud swallows -- then nods, placidly, blinking through the haze.
it's a complete juxtaposition from wheels searing against the road, heart juddering against his ribcage. the palms of his hands lay flat against roche's sides. they feel for the hardness of his muscle, the contours and dips of his body. inquisitively, and knee deep in his own thoughts, he shapes out the strength of his flesh and form.
he was a SOLDIER -- his body is a testament to that in ways cloud's wasn't. his hands traverse upwards, and his eyes flit across his chest, bright blue smearing against the darkness of the room. ]
[ He'd be lying if he said he never dreamed of this — of having Cloud's hands on him away from the battlefield, even if he'd barely known the man for more than one evening. Even though it's through two layers of clothing he can feel the strength in his fingers as they press and dig into his ribs, into his flanks, and over his abdomen and were this anyone else, Roche likely would've started stretching or flexing to show off without really showing. He'd done such things to humor his bolder fans (the pictures of having someone hanging off his arms were absolutely worth it), and he absolutely wasn't against flaunting what he had to strangers in bars, but...
Cloud wasn't them.
It's because of that reason Roche does his best to keep his gears in neutral, but what really does it? It's the uncertainty he thinks he hears in his voice. At least it's what he'd call it if it were coming out of his own mouth. Roche watches him for a few moments, head tilting in thought. ]
I'd certainly hope so after everything I endured.
[ Everything he'd have to endure if the rumors and whispers were true. ]
[ it's easy to play a role, isn't it? to slink right into it like it was made for you, and let it absorb you, a disease of your own making. people could be anything they wanted to be. pretending could take you so, so far.
his head is throbbing again, faintly, through the fog. he doesn't want to think about it. cloud's fingers stop shy of his waist, and his thighs are shifting against him, face close enough that his breath is beating onto his skin. ]
...You do.
[ he means that, earnestly. if there was truly an outlier here: it wasn't roche. maybe that's what scares him. his fingers creep underneath the hem of his shirt, searching for skin and the contours of his muscle. yes, this was the hardened body of a SOLDIER; it was unlike the way his own skin clung to bone and marrow, a kind of uncanniness that people could always recognize in him.
for a moment, there's a pang of envy. jealousy. want. ]
I believe you.
[ "but i don't believe myself." ]
...Do you want me on top of you?
[ it's a question more than it is a statement, like he's fumbling in the dark here -- but it's grounded in desire too as his fingers spread apart, feeling for him intently. ]
[ It comes out in a sort of half-laugh, half-exhale. What he wants... Phoenix, there was so much that he wants and that's always been the thing with Roche, hasn't it? Adventure, danger, high speeds, and all the thrills that came with it. Most of it was short-lived when he did find it, but something was born that night in the 7-6 annex. Something that had seized Roche's heart and refused to let go, and he was looking at the very man who'd sparked that feeling.
He wants a lot of things, and it's difficult to keep his hands where Cloud could see them. His hands flex a few times against the faux leather of the booth and when he takes a deep breath, he holds it. Counts back from five, and slowly lets it out. Wheels back on the road, he tells himself. There's no need to push the needle into the red yet. Once he seems more certain of himself, Roche drops one hand down to lightly pat at his own thigh with another quiet laugh. ]
Best seat in the house. Saddle up, Sundrop.
[ And with his hand so close to Cloud's... Roche dares. His own fingers stretch out, searching and almost tentative until he feels his pinky make contact. He promised he wouldn't bite, and he doesn't. He's still careful even as he tries to wiggle it underneath, aiming to link their fingers together and then some. ]
May I? I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about what your hands looked like since we met, nor am I ashamed to admit as such.
[ he has to push back against his own fight or flight instinct -- everyone else... knew the ins and outs of intimacy, of touch and connection. it came unnaturally to him, a horribly foreign thing he still felt himself grappling with. roche is experienced in all of the ways he isn't.
more than the invitation that surprises him is the sensation of his hand against his; he turns, the blues of his eyes softening, strangely vulnerable in that moment. then they curl around his, mapping out the feel of his hand, palm lines sprawling out like roads.
cloud shifts, then; hand still in his, he lifts himself up so that he's bracketing him, slowly adjusting his weight against him. he holds their hand up, fingers intertwined, and gives him the cue to do as he pleases. ]
[ He pounces on the opportunity in a heartbeat, thumbs tracing over the creases of Cloud's palm for several moments before he turns his attention to mapping out every callus and scar he can find. They feel softer than he expected, but does Roche care or mind? Hell no, especially not when it's finally happening. So what if it's only been a scant few days as far as Midgar was concerned? To him, it may as well be a lifetime — even moreso when he takes the time spent here into account. ]
I never had a reason to let it. I've felt bouts of embarrassment and whatnot before, but never shame. Never genuine shame. Life is far too short for me to worry about things like that, you know? I'd much rather spend the one I do have to the fullest. And...
[ It's here that Roche gets daring; it's brief and almost too casual, but as his touches to Cloud's hald slow he ducks his head to press his lips to the tips of his fingers in a quiet thank you gesture. ]
...there's nothing shameful about being true to one's heart, even if others seem to take issue with it. Believe me, I'd know.
[ the brush of his lips against the tips of his fingers incites a spark of warmth that trails up his nerves; it sits in his sternum, and cloud is wholly still for a change, the everlasting jumble that had been his brain screeching to a halt.
it reminds him of someone-- someone he still struggles to remember, even now. a SOLDIER. a real SOLDIER. he was real too, wasn't he?
something clings to the back of cloud's throat. he opens his mouth to speak before his jaw clenches again, tensing. two palms plant onto roche's shoulders. then as if bypassing the gentleness of his touch, he kisses him hard, lips slotting against his as he searches for something tangible. ]
...Show people your hand--
[ it's spoken through grit teeth, eyes fluttering shut. ]
[ By all means Roche should be infuriated by the weight behind the hands on his shoulder. Infuriated by the sudden realization that he actually... wants to ease off the throttle and coast? Whatever surge of anger (towards himself) that erupts in his heart is smothered just as quickly as it came to life by the kiss, so much that at first all he's able to muster is a quiet, shuddering sigh when they part. Heat, strawberries, smoke, and something distinctly Cloud lingers on his lips, though this time Roche isn't entirely too sure if it's those damned enhanced senses given to him courtesy of SOLDIER or his own infatuation toying with his head. Whatever the cause, he doesn't really care — the only thing that matters is it's downright intoxicating, and it's here and now that he chooses to throw what little remainder of caution he had into the wind.
Cloud may have him "pinned", but it leaves Roche's hands free to wander up the length of his arms starting at the wrist. Up past the elbows, higher and higher... Over one of Cloud's shoulders, and finally he moves to cup one half of his face in his palm. Gentle, like he's something precious and important. ]
I would never. Not like that.
[ Softly, in contrast to what sounded... almost forced to Roche's ears. They could just be playing tricks on him, but... He's never had any reason to doubt his own hearing yet despite the harsh, constant noise he subjected them to throughout his entire life. His thumb sweeps over a cheekbone, and Roche cranes his head to lightly bump the tips of their noses together. ]
And I know you wouldn't, either. In fact... I'd give it freely. You only need to ask, my friend, and if it's within my power to grant then I swear on Phoenix's feathered bosom I'll do my best.
[ there's the part of cloud that wants to begrudge him, call him a naive man for this--"you barely know me. i barely know myself. why in the world would you trust me?"
but each and every syllable whittles away beneath his tongue, nowhere to be found. why? is it the casino, that compels him to accept this all encompassing warmth, the embers of connection he'd been so eager to snuff out. in a fraction of a second, cloud's features blank, unsure of how to externalize the haphazard, garbage assembly of feeling polluting his brain. he turns to roche's palm, teeth grit, eyes wrenched shut. a stupidly vulnerable position, and one he can't forfeit.
there's a slow shake of the head, but he doesn't remove his hand. nose to nose, cheek to cheek, roche's breath beats against his face and his heart clenches. ]
...I'm--
[ "afraid -- and alone, and i don't know why." he was never in his own mind, his own body, never at the right place at the right time. his hands curl against roche's shoulders for purchase, and he kisses him again, as if to compensate for his inability to verbalize the white noise in his head. ]
Someone's gonna hurt you one day, you know-- [ he says in a breath, fingers clenching. ]
You can't... just give yourself to people like that...
[ For the first time in all of his wildest dreams, Roche isn't entirely sure what to do with his hands. He keeps one at Cloud's face, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone while he gives him time to process and figure out what he wants to say. Even when Cloud moves back in to kiss him, to seize fistfuls of leather and cotton and hold tight, Roche simply lets him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't taking the chance to savor this moment for what it was, too — intimacy was something he rarely gave himself over to despite his grand gestures and bravado. True intimacy, that is. Why?
Someone's gonna hurt you one day.
He knows Cloud doesn't mean it. Knows he doesn't mean for those words to sink into his heart and twist in a manner that's almost painful. Something in his expression softens, but it's gone just as quickly as Roche blinks. Maybe it's whatever they've got mixed in with the tobacco getting to him (a godsdamned miracle, he'd think). ]
What, did someone say I wasn't?
[ His tone stays light and there's the faintest hints of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, but Roche doesn't laugh. He's still a person, yes, but with the way some people talk about SOLDIERs... He's not deaf. ]
Regardless, I can't imagine why anyone would want to hurt me. I don't mean it out of arrogance or naivety, more out of... I'm not sure. When you care about someone — truly care about them — hurting them ought to be the last thing on your mind. Tell me, would you ever hurt me? Obviously I don't mean in the heat of battle because frankly that'd be impossible considering how bright both of our flames burn, but... In the way that you're concerned about.
[ he says he isn't naive; cloud knows that too. that some people had the confidence to not be so predisposed to maintaining their guard every second of every hour. that some people weren't so fragile as he was -- and wouldn't fracture at a brush of the fingers.
cloud stops. his gaze drops, the shame hovering over him, the facade peeling away bit by bit. "why does that matter?" "that's a stupid question." "maybe. who knows?" a plethora of answers come to surface, but neither of them make it out of the confines of his mind. ]
...No.
[ he says that firmly. it shocks even himself. his palms are flat against roche's shoulders, fingers curling tightly in an iron grip. ]
...I don't want to do that to you.
[ ... ]
But you'd be surprised -- what people out there will do, even if they care... even if they give a shit.
[ his breath lingers against the column of roche's throat. for a moment, he visibly sizes him up, clearly absorbed in the sight of his features, engrossed in those mako eyes again. he studies the hard lines of his face, the way they soften even in the recessed light, how he hasn't quite lost himself to the behemoth that is SOLDIER yet-- ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Everything and anything is what he wants to say. Those three simple words sit poised on the end of his tongue while he taps and rolls the mouthpiece of his hose over his bottom lip, thinking and choosing his next words. As spontaneous as he can be, he knows that there's a time and place for such behavior and Roche knows that now isn't one of those moments. ]
Ha. I... Given the circumstances I'd gladly take whatever you saw fit to offer, as would I be happy to give whatever you'd ask of me.
[ Because what he truly yearns for — hearing the sweet, cacophonous roar of both of their engines skirting the red and singing together — was nearly impossible in the resort. The vehicles in the garage were good, yes. Good, beautiful, and begging to let their songs be heard after months and years of being kept silent if the old-timers were to be believed, but they weren't the ones Roche wanted to share. Their frames couldn't handle one SOLDIER let alone two, not like his girl could.
He misses that red beauty more than ever. ]
Even if I only manage to steal moments like this. When I said I wanted to know you, I meant it, Cloud.
no subject
he blinks once. then twice. in the dark, both of their eyes glow wildly, like the spark of an engine. cloud shifts closer, the heel of his palm pressing down against roche's thigh. ]
...We don't have any bikes here.
[ no shit, buddy. a beat. ]
I...
[ the strawberry haze coaxes something inexplicably truthful out of him -- something honest. ]
Don't think-- I know myself either...
[ he swallows. ]
...Hey. [ a drawn out silence. ] ...Let me touch you.
no subject
[ Roche isn't sure what makes him laugh first — his own insistence, or Cloud's weight pressing into his thigh for a heartbeat or three. It's most likely the former, but maybe it's also because the sudden contact tickles. Or it surprises him. Either way, it's not a bad laugh, more... subdued, easy and personal than it is wild and meant for the world to hear. He spends hundreds and thousands of miles with his needle touching the red that he sometimes forgets that it's actually okay to slide into a lower gear and let the road tell him when to kick it up a notch.
He exhales smoke through the corner of his mouth like one of Wutai's great serpents and tilts his head a little, as if he's considering when in reality his mind was already made up.
Roche leans back into the booth and stretches his arms up over the back of it, his pipe and hose dangling harmlessly from his fingers for a few moments. It's the closest thing to submission he'll ever get like this, and he nods once. ]
Go right ahead. My hands'll stay right up here if that's where you want 'em.
[ If Cloud doesn't know himself? It's really the least Roche can do — letting him go at his own pace. Let that engine warm up on its own. ]
no subject
it's a complete juxtaposition from wheels searing against the road, heart juddering against his ribcage. the palms of his hands lay flat against roche's sides. they feel for the hardness of his muscle, the contours and dips of his body. inquisitively, and knee deep in his own thoughts, he shapes out the strength of his flesh and form.
he was a SOLDIER -- his body is a testament to that in ways cloud's wasn't. his hands traverse upwards, and his eyes flit across his chest, bright blue smearing against the darkness of the room. ]
...You're--
[ his throat is tightening again. ]
A real SOLDIER, aren't you?
no subject
Cloud wasn't them.
It's because of that reason Roche does his best to keep his gears in neutral, but what really does it? It's the uncertainty he thinks he hears in his voice. At least it's what he'd call it if it were coming out of his own mouth. Roche watches him for a few moments, head tilting in thought. ]
I'd certainly hope so after everything I endured.
[ Everything he'd have to endure if the rumors and whispers were true. ]
Do I not look the part?
no subject
his head is throbbing again, faintly, through the fog. he doesn't want to think about it. cloud's fingers stop shy of his waist, and his thighs are shifting against him, face close enough that his breath is beating onto his skin. ]
...You do.
[ he means that, earnestly. if there was truly an outlier here: it wasn't roche. maybe that's what scares him. his fingers creep underneath the hem of his shirt, searching for skin and the contours of his muscle. yes, this was the hardened body of a SOLDIER; it was unlike the way his own skin clung to bone and marrow, a kind of uncanniness that people could always recognize in him.
for a moment, there's a pang of envy. jealousy. want. ]
I believe you.
[ "but i don't believe myself." ]
...Do you want me on top of you?
[ it's a question more than it is a statement, like he's fumbling in the dark here -- but it's grounded in desire too as his fingers spread apart, feeling for him intently. ]
no subject
[ It comes out in a sort of half-laugh, half-exhale. What he wants... Phoenix, there was so much that he wants and that's always been the thing with Roche, hasn't it? Adventure, danger, high speeds, and all the thrills that came with it. Most of it was short-lived when he did find it, but something was born that night in the 7-6 annex. Something that had seized Roche's heart and refused to let go, and he was looking at the very man who'd sparked that feeling.
He wants a lot of things, and it's difficult to keep his hands where Cloud could see them. His hands flex a few times against the faux leather of the booth and when he takes a deep breath, he holds it. Counts back from five, and slowly lets it out. Wheels back on the road, he tells himself. There's no need to push the needle into the red yet. Once he seems more certain of himself, Roche drops one hand down to lightly pat at his own thigh with another quiet laugh. ]
Best seat in the house. Saddle up, Sundrop.
[ And with his hand so close to Cloud's... Roche dares. His own fingers stretch out, searching and almost tentative until he feels his pinky make contact. He promised he wouldn't bite, and he doesn't. He's still careful even as he tries to wiggle it underneath, aiming to link their fingers together and then some. ]
May I? I'd be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about what your hands looked like since we met, nor am I ashamed to admit as such.
no subject
more than the invitation that surprises him is the sensation of his hand against his; he turns, the blues of his eyes softening, strangely vulnerable in that moment. then they curl around his, mapping out the feel of his hand, palm lines sprawling out like roads.
cloud shifts, then; hand still in his, he lifts himself up so that he's bracketing him, slowly adjusting his weight against him. he holds their hand up, fingers intertwined, and gives him the cue to do as he pleases. ]
...I don't get it.
[ he lapses into silence. ]
Shame...never matters to you. How?
no subject
I never had a reason to let it. I've felt bouts of embarrassment and whatnot before, but never shame. Never genuine shame. Life is far too short for me to worry about things like that, you know? I'd much rather spend the one I do have to the fullest. And...
[ It's here that Roche gets daring; it's brief and almost too casual, but as his touches to Cloud's hald slow he ducks his head to press his lips to the tips of his fingers in a quiet thank you gesture. ]
...there's nothing shameful about being true to one's heart, even if others seem to take issue with it. Believe me, I'd know.
no subject
it reminds him of someone-- someone he still struggles to remember, even now. a SOLDIER. a real SOLDIER. he was real too, wasn't he?
something clings to the back of cloud's throat. he opens his mouth to speak before his jaw clenches again, tensing. two palms plant onto roche's shoulders. then as if bypassing the gentleness of his touch, he kisses him hard, lips slotting against his as he searches for something tangible. ]
...Show people your hand--
[ it's spoken through grit teeth, eyes fluttering shut. ]
And they'll just-- take everything from you.
no subject
Cloud may have him "pinned", but it leaves Roche's hands free to wander up the length of his arms starting at the wrist. Up past the elbows, higher and higher... Over one of Cloud's shoulders, and finally he moves to cup one half of his face in his palm. Gentle, like he's something precious and important. ]
I would never. Not like that.
[ Softly, in contrast to what sounded... almost forced to Roche's ears. They could just be playing tricks on him, but... He's never had any reason to doubt his own hearing yet despite the harsh, constant noise he subjected them to throughout his entire life. His thumb sweeps over a cheekbone, and Roche cranes his head to lightly bump the tips of their noses together. ]
And I know you wouldn't, either. In fact... I'd give it freely. You only need to ask, my friend, and if it's within my power to grant then I swear on Phoenix's feathered bosom I'll do my best.
no subject
but each and every syllable whittles away beneath his tongue, nowhere to be found. why? is it the casino, that compels him to accept this all encompassing warmth, the embers of connection he'd been so eager to snuff out. in a fraction of a second, cloud's features blank, unsure of how to externalize the haphazard, garbage assembly of feeling polluting his brain. he turns to roche's palm, teeth grit, eyes wrenched shut. a stupidly vulnerable position, and one he can't forfeit.
there's a slow shake of the head, but he doesn't remove his hand. nose to nose, cheek to cheek, roche's breath beats against his face and his heart clenches. ]
...I'm--
[ "afraid -- and alone, and i don't know why." he was never in his own mind, his own body, never at the right place at the right time. his hands curl against roche's shoulders for purchase, and he kisses him again, as if to compensate for his inability to verbalize the white noise in his head. ]
Someone's gonna hurt you one day, you know-- [ he says in a breath, fingers clenching. ]
You can't... just give yourself to people like that...
[ it's spoken out of concern. he knows that. ]
You're still a person.
no subject
Someone's gonna hurt you one day.
He knows Cloud doesn't mean it. Knows he doesn't mean for those words to sink into his heart and twist in a manner that's almost painful. Something in his expression softens, but it's gone just as quickly as Roche blinks. Maybe it's whatever they've got mixed in with the tobacco getting to him (a godsdamned miracle, he'd think). ]
What, did someone say I wasn't?
[ His tone stays light and there's the faintest hints of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, but Roche doesn't laugh. He's still a person, yes, but with the way some people talk about SOLDIERs... He's not deaf. ]
Regardless, I can't imagine why anyone would want to hurt me. I don't mean it out of arrogance or naivety, more out of... I'm not sure. When you care about someone — truly care about them — hurting them ought to be the last thing on your mind. Tell me, would you ever hurt me? Obviously I don't mean in the heat of battle because frankly that'd be impossible considering how bright both of our flames burn, but... In the way that you're concerned about.
no subject
cloud stops. his gaze drops, the shame hovering over him, the facade peeling away bit by bit. "why does that matter?" "that's a stupid question." "maybe. who knows?" a plethora of answers come to surface, but neither of them make it out of the confines of his mind. ]
...No.
[ he says that firmly. it shocks even himself. his palms are flat against roche's shoulders, fingers curling tightly in an iron grip. ]
...I don't want to do that to you.
[ ... ]
But you'd be surprised -- what people out there will do, even if they care... even if they give a shit.
[ his breath lingers against the column of roche's throat. for a moment, he visibly sizes him up, clearly absorbed in the sight of his features, engrossed in those mako eyes again. he studies the hard lines of his face, the way they soften even in the recessed light, how he hasn't quite lost himself to the behemoth that is SOLDIER yet-- ]
...Plenty of people have suffered because of me.
[ ... ]
I'm... I'm not stupid enough to deny that.