jukeboxhound_backup | fic: this isn't going to wash out (ff7)

Surprise for

tir_synni , who manages the kind of daily schedule that would have me breaking down with the stress. I don't know how she does it. I think this is the most explicit thing I've ever written so it may be rather off and I...I don't even know, but it's in the name of friendship and her tentacle!fic and my guilty love of wing!fic, I guess? Love you, darling.

This Isn't Going to Wash Out
FF7 || NC-17: anthro!tentacle!sex, omgwut || Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud || 3,650 words
Cloud can't decide if this the hottest or weirdest thing they've ever done.

Slight fusion with SPN, or a real-life AU with some fantasy elements. Set in the same verse as my Aeris/Tifa femmeslash thing.
Some of the tentacle concepts borrowed from the awesome chibirisuchan .
Prompt #35: Change, from 100_situations

"Goddamnit," says Cloud. He wonders if there's a clause in some kind of insurance policy for this sort of thing.

"Indeed," Sephiroth adds mildly.

"Um," says Zack. His smile is full of teeth. "My bad."

Cloud tries to shift his weight and nearly topples over with the newly added weight on his shoulders, but Sephiroth catches him with three or four of his limbs and sets him back on his feet.

"Thank you," says Cloud very calmly.

Sephiroth nods and looks at Zack with a cool eye. "We should bring the texts with us. I imagine you won't mind carrying them."

Zack ears droop a little with guilt as he looks between his paws, the books scattered around the witches' living room, and the other two. "I'll grab them and meet you guys back at the car."

The sapphire-blue 1970 Chevy Chevelle gleams in the first light of dawn, the sun peering pink just over the horizon. It takes some maneuvering to get Sephiroth into the front passenger seat; his tentacles keep slipping and sliding all over the place, resisting all attempts to tuck them neatly into the footwell. Cloud finally wraps a blanket from the trunk loosely around them, though the blanket continues shifting restlessly like it's covering a pile of grumpy snakes. Sephiroth is pale, or at least paler than usual, and determinedly keeping his eyes fixed above the level of anyone's waist.

"I think they're nice," Cloud tries, and the look he gets is so full of incredulity he might as well have said that maybe they should try looking for a copy of the Kama Sutra that included animal parts. He takes the hint and just finishes tucking in the edges of the blanket in silence. Then he looks at the backseat, and at the hint of golden feather he can see poking up from behind his shoulders, and resignedly thinks that at least he still has legs.

By the time Zack comes out the white-paneled, middle-class suburban house carrying a large box of books, Cloud's managed to wedge himself sideways into the backseat, knees crammed against the door and his wings sprawled limply behind the driver's seat. It takes Zack a moment to work out how to open a trunk with half-inch claws, but then the car rocks with the weight of the books dropping into the back, and finally Zack falls heavily into the driver's seat. All three stare blankly into space for a moment before Zack glances at Sephiroth's still-wriggling lap.

"Guess we're gonna have to pick up some more lube."

His yelp of pain echoes through the neighborhood.

…

"We should contact National Geographic. Or Weekly World News. I mean, Bat Boy is so passé."

"Or a furry convention," Cloud says without thinking, then winces when he realizes that Sephiroth's gone tense under his hands. He's helping Sephiroth sit on one of the motel room's two beds so his rebellious tentacles don't send him sliding onto the floor.

Zack's standing in the small bathroom, prodding with those sharp claws at his face. His features are still human, maybe his nose just looking like it has a dark tan, but two furry pointed ears poke out of his wild hair, and the first thing he'd done when they'd gotten back to the motel was shuck off his jeans and let his tail wag free.

"I think the ears add a certain 'something'," he declares, but Cloud's ignoring him in favor of Sephiroth's obvious distress.

"Are you okay?" he asks, once Sephiroth's found his balance against a headboard, and Sephiroth replies, "I've regressed several million years in evolution below the waist. My body now belongs to two different biological phyla. No, I don't believe I am."

Cloud winces again, partly from Sephiroth's flat voice and partly from the sudden twinge in muscles not used to carrying so much extra weight. He tries to straighten up from where he's leaning over the tentacles, but Sephiroth's hand is suddenly on his shoulder and he squawks in surprise.

"I apologize. I'm not the only one that has been cursed by Zack's recklessness."

"It's okay," and it is, because at least Cloud's still got legs and human ears. His hair might be fluffier than usual with all the little yellow down feathers, but at least he can put on a heavy coat and look like a regular person, albeit with bad hair and a worse case of scoliosis. As long as he's focused on keeping Sephiroth from putting the Masamune through Zack he can resist the urge to kick Zack in the shins himself, having a small tantrum, or just going to sleep in the vain hope that he'll wake up and it'll all be a weird dream brought on by too much Dr. Pepper. He wonders if trying to ride his beloved Fenrir now would be like trying to ride with a parachute attached to his back.

Sephiroth's hand pulls him forward so that Cloud ends up with one knee pressing into the bed next to the tentacles and the other foot on the floor, both forearms braced against the wall behind Sephiroth. The hand slides over the slope of his shoulder to the left wing, lightly pulling on golden feathers. The sensation is muted, like having his hair petted, and he's not sure how to describe the way avian feeling translates into simian. "Do they hurt?" Sephiroth asks, and Cloud tries to shrug, but his shoulders protest the movement with a burst of pain and he can't bite back a grunt. He manages a weak smile.

"I'll get used to them."

Sephiroth's lips thin with the obvious thought of you shouldn't have to get used to them and sighs. Putting his hands on Cloud's hips, he says, "Come here," and maneuvers Cloud into straddling his waist. It's incredibly awkward and Cloud knocks his chin against Sephiroth's temple as his wings flop about like dying fish, and he can feel that Sephiroth's physiology is very different underneath the blanket – oh, whoa, that isn't supposed to go there – but they manage. Cloud's shirt had pretty much been reduced to ribbons when the wings exploded out of his back like a feather pillow hit with a small bomb, so it's easy for Sephiroth to gently pull it off and guide Cloud forward until their chests are pressed together.

"This is awkward," Cloud observes.

Sephiroth ignores him. He's more concerned in exploring the span of red, puffy muscle stretched taut over the sudden protrusion of bone and under a layer of down. Cloud hisses between his teeth, but Sephiroth just presses his fingertips more firmly into the overworked muscle. The skin is infection-hot and raw and, see, this is why kids want to be Superman and not Hawkman.

"Is this helping?" Sephiroth asks softly, chest rumbling. Cloud hadn't even realized he'd slumped forward until his face is buried against Sephiroth's neck.

"Nrgh," says Cloud. There's a soft huff of a laugh against his cheek.

"Oi," comes Zack's voice, "are you two getting started without me?"

"You will be sleeping on the floor," Sephiroth tells him flatly.

"But," Zack starts, and Sephiroth says, "You're the one that got us into this mess, Lieutenant Fair, I daresay it is your responsibility to find a way out."

Cloud winces a bit. At least Sephiroth hadn't gone for Zack's full ex-military title. Zack's dejection is almost tangible and Cloud can't help feeling a little pity; the guy's insatiable curiosity doubling his need to poke a metaphorical and occasionally literal stick at all and sundry is as much a part of him as his disturbing phobia of ShamWow commercials. Even if those sundries include witches' books of questionable origins and covers with even more questionable stains. Sephiroth's fingers haven't stopped their methodical kneading of the muscle at the base of Cloud's wings, and the painful soreness is starting to give way to a tolerable, vague ache.

"Huh," says Zack. "I think he likes that."

Cloud's arms have snaked their way around Sephiroth's neck and he's all but boneless, leaning his full weight against Sephiroth, letting his wings trail limply on either side of them. Sephiroth's tentacles go still underneath him, between his spread thighs, and maybe Cloud should've taken a look on Etsy for that Kama Sutra. Etsy has the weirdest shit and Cloud absently makes a mental note to get Zack that replica dick of some guy from the Twilight books, leave it in his duffle to find unexpectedly.

Zack must be moving towards the bed because Sephiroth says, "No. Sit on the other bed."

"But," Zack protests, and Sephiroth says lowly, "Sit."

Zack sits. His ears are twitching and his tail is thumping on the bed rhythmically, feet on the floor.

Keeping one hand wrapped around the base of Cloud's left wing, Sephiroth slides the other down the bumps of Cloud's spine, pushing hard into the small of his back and following the rise to the waist of his jeans. Cloud makes a sound that is not a purr, thank you very much, and arches his spine down until his belly is flush against Sephiroth's.

"Okay, this works," Zack says a little breathlessly, leaning back on his elbows and letting his knees fall open. His boxers are doing a good job of highlighting his growing interest in the scene.

Sephiroth ignores him in favor of slipping his fingers under the denim to stroke Cloud's tailbone, slipping his fingers down farther to stroke more firmly over his hole and, fuck, why didn't Cloud bother taking off his jeans earlier, Jesus. The muscles in his belly and thighs tighten and he's not sure if he wants to thrust forward or spread his legs wider. Not long ago Cloud would've said this was so not the time to mess around, they were stressed and tired and cursed with new anatomy, but then it occurs to him that maybe there isn't a better time for this. His dick agrees, anyway, and even his wings do, judging by the way they're trembling and stirring up soft puffs of wind. The unwitting motions are pulling at his shoulders, making them flex and relax rhythmically under the pressure of Sephiroth's other hand. Cloud moans, low in his throat.

"Goddamn," he hears Zack murmur, and Sephiroth echoes the sentiment, if the renewed writhing of his tentacles between Cloud's thighs is any kind of sign. And isn't that a whole new level of weird, except Cloud had felt how strong they were when he was helping Sephiroth onto the bed, and he can feel that now, long slender dexterous muscle that could probably hold him down and push him wide open.

Without thinking Cloud sits back so he can reach down, intending to grip Sephiroth's dick and jack him firmly but slowly, drawing it out the way that makes the tension he always carries just melt away, but his fingers end up curling around the base of a thick tentacle.

"Er," he says, but it's a very sexy 'er.' Sephiroth pauses, obviously about as stumped as Cloud about what to do when your partner suddenly has several arguably-phallic limbs that don't actually function like normal phalli, and then starts saying something about the biology of 'mollusca' or possibly 'cnidaria.' In Sephiroth Language this means I have no idea what's going on and I'm slightly disturbed so excuse me while I analyze it to death, and Zack is too busy trying to muffle his snickering to be much help, so even though the mood is completely shattered Cloud determinedly wriggles his hand past the outer layer of tentacles.

Which gets an immediate reaction. Sephiroth chokes on a breath somewhere in the middle of "the release of gametes in temperate waters" and he tosses his head back with a long groan, nearly hitting the headboard while his hands tighten in the feathers of Cloud's wings. His tentacles suddenly wrap themselves around Cloud's thighs, spread him wider until he feels the ache in his hips. The limbs are as strong and unrelenting as the ropes they sometimes used to keep one of them tied down to the mattress, usually after hunts that draw blood and make adrenaline race through their veins, make them need to reassert their claim on one another in the kind of fucking that leaves teeth marks, rope burns, and come drying on sweat-salty skin.

Underneath the tentacles are much smaller ones that tangle around Cloud's fingers, tucked up close against the heat of Sephiroth's body and soft as velvet. It's a little like weaving his fingers with normal ones but a lot not, the velvety feel offset by a thin layer of slickness. "I think this is the strangest thing we've ever done," Cloud says in a shaky voice, and Zack starts laughing again. Even Sephiroth manages a wry huff, though most of his higher brain functions have shut down, and the huff becomes another, louder, groan when Cloud strokes firmly down one of the lengths.

Cloud startles when a third hand moves up his spine, but his body automatically arches into the raking of nails back down as Zack growls in his ear, "I'm getting kinda jealous." Zack braces Cloud as he manages to work off jeans and boxers, lightly smacking away a few tentacles that refuse to let go with the sharp sound of skin striking skin; it's rather telling that Sephiroth doesn't get irritated with the man's refusal to listen to orders. Cloud feels vulnerable, legs wide and belly stretched long, muscle carving lean lines down his ribs to his hipbones, throat bare as his head tips back onto Zack's shoulder. When Zack's claws scrape the space between his wings, the sudden flare of pain with pleasure tears out a hoarse cry.

Sephiroth's hands move to Cloud's hips. The way his fingers dig into the skin, Cloud will have two neat rows of little bruises for days, purple, aching dully whenever he presses on them, but right now Sephiroth pulls him down, guides his hips in a rocking motion that has Zack's cock riding the crack of his ass and a thick smooth tentacle wrapping around Cloud's. Another slides up Cloud's chest, circles a nipple with firm pressure and a quick flick that makes him gasp and need to brace himself forward against Sephiroth's chest with a hand. Sweat mats his long bangs, stings his eyes.

Behind him he hears Zack humming and licking and generally making the kinds of noises that go with his messy shameless blowjobs, which doesn't make sense because Cloud's dick is currently being jacked by the undulating coils of a tentacle and – oh. The thought of Zack's lips wrapped around yet another tentacle, the flexible length sliding down his throat just short of making him choke and fucking his mouth until his lips are spit-slick and cherry-red, holy fuck but if Cloud gets any harder he'd be able to nail a new goddamn hull onto Cid's ship.

Sephiroth's hands are gripping his hips and Zack has one tangled in Cloud's hair, yanking him back, the other tight around the base of a wing. There's a bright spot of pain as a feather gets tweaked that shoots straight down to his groin and Cloud grinds down, shuddering when the tentacle around his cock tightens and shuddering harder when he realizes that it isn't Zack nudging purposefully between his ass cheeks.

"What," he manages before the tip of a tentacle, slippery with Zack's spit, pushes shallowly into him. It feels a lot like a finger at first, moving slowly, until Cloud unconsciously tightens the hold he has on the slim lengths hidden under Sephiroth's body. The tentacle abruptly pushes in harder and the breath is punched out of Cloud's lungs as Sephiroth hisses, what felt like a single digit suddenly feeling like two, a little more, oh Christ, almost too deep too fast but don't stop, for the love of god don't stop.

Zack keeps a hold on his wing while wrapping the other arm around Cloud's chest, pinning him against his own body. Cloud can feel the soft fur of an ear as Zack shoves his nose into the curve of his throat, whispers, "Breathe, Spike." It sounds like he's going to say something else but instead he lets out a short bark, shockingly loud both in Cloud's own ear and the motel room, and bites down on Cloud's shoulder, teeth sharp but not drawing blood, not yet.

The rocking of his body against Cloud's changes rhythm and through his daze Cloud is able to recognize that one of the tentacles wrapped so tightly around his thigh had moved, is doing to Zack what its counterpart is doing in stretching Cloud, working him open and loose. He can't decide if he wants to fuck forward into the coils around his dick or back into Zack's cock, now pushing wetly into the small of his back, or down onto the tentacle in his ass and, fuck, please don't ever let Aeris hear about this.

The air conditioner clicks on with a grumble over by the bathroom but he only hears it with the tiny part of his brain that isn't more concerned with the intensity of Sephiroth's half-lidded eyes or Zack's burning heat pressed all down his back, the needle-pricks of Zack's claws on his belly and scrabbling over his wings. It's more concerned with the writhing of tentacles that keep his thighs spread to the point of pain and his cock wrapped tight and the one in particular wriggling so deep inside that he's practically gagging on it. He hears Sephiroth's rumbling groans and Zack's low snarls, which have gotten a little more animalistic to go with his new anatomical accessories; he faintly hears his own bitten-off cries that are more gasps of air than sound.

It's sweat and moans and fullness and a few errant feathers drifting lazily in the air.

It doesn't take long for the shorter, velvety lengths twining around Cloud's hand to twitch and tremble, and then there's a rush of warm fluid, slicking over his fingers. The tentacle around his dick and balls tighten to the point of whoa-too-much and Cloud's wings snap taut, rising in graceful curves on either side as he fucks down on the tentacle in his ass and comes with what feels like a Fourth of July fireworks show in his head. Zack's sharpened teeth finally draw blood like he's an actual animal determined to keep his mate from getting away until he's done rutting, spilling hot over the curve of Cloud's spine, claws dug into the lean flesh of Cloud's abdomen so hard he could probably feel Sephiroth moving inside him.

Cloud fuzzily thinks that if all of Zack's mistakes were going to start resulting in this then he might have to quietly start orchestrating some of them.

…

They show up on Aeris' front porch on a warm Tennessee day. She's already waiting for them, sitting in a wicker chair with a tray of lemonade glasses and the kind of grin that would make the Cheshire cat jealous.

"Crap," Zack mutters, ears drooping a little. Cloud's wings try to fold themselves up a little smaller. Sephiroth somehow manages to maintain a regal air while wearing a long black skirt that mostly manages to hide his tentacles.

"Oooh," she says as they get out of the Chevelle with some awkwardness, "can I touch?"

Aeris knows all about this magic thing, Zack had said. If anyone can help, it's her, Cloud remembers wryly.

"Babe, please," Zack starts, which of course is the moment Tifa decides to come out of the house and join them. She arches an eyebrow at Zack, then softens when she sees Cloud and puts a hand on Aeris' shoulder.

"Let them come inside before you start emotionally scarring them."

Aeris pouts. When Tifa subtly tips her hat to him, Cloud decides that he'll make sure Tifa gets the best goddamn Premium Heart gloves on the market.

Then Sephiroth makes an odd noise as his skirt tears and a few tentacles wiggle around rebelliously, which makes Zack's tail wag free, which makes Cloud's wings flare out in surprise, which makes Aeris squee and Tifa's eyes widen. Cloud sighs and goes in for some damage control.

...
The end.
(At least until Zack manages to stumble onto that Neopagan fertility spell.)
(For the record, Aeris totally had absolutely nothing to do with that at all.)

Current Mood: embarrassed
Current Music: Underworld: Rise of the Lycans OST - "Nasty Little Perv"