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Motorbikes and Leather

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It was the goddamned leather.

To be fair, it had made sense to pick the outfit at the time. While it wasn't an issue with the simulation game in Gold Saucer, Cloud did have a motorbike of his own. Most of the time he rode in his cargo pants and a sleeveless top, and he had to admit that it wasn't the most protective clothing combination ever. It would be sensible to have some proper biking gear.

And, okay. It looked cool. The knee-high boots, the oversized belt buckle, the protective shoulder and arm guards that should have looked dorky but somehow managed to get away with looking tough instead.

Definitely cool. He looked cool. He looked badass and… hot, totally hot. Even if Tifa had snickered when she saw him wearing it.

Maybe it was overkill just for the G-Bike game, but there was a new confidence, almost a strut in Cloud's walk when he had walked up to the console in Gold Saucer's Wonder Square.

It was just that he hadn't counted on how tight his new outfit would be. Sure, he had meant it to be tight, for… aesthetics. But the feel of actually wearing it was different. The leather hugged every inch of his body. He could feel it subtly straining against him, just a fraction of resistance as he moved, in a way that made him constantly aware of wearing it. Constantly aware of the way it brushed against him like a caress.

That feeling was only multiplied in… sensitive areas.

And then there was the smell of it. It smelt of fresh, new leather and metal and engine oil, and it was a heady mix.

Straddling the bike had been glorious torture. Trying to focus on the game had been even worse; all he could feel was the bike vibrating deliciously beneath him and how damn tight those pants were.

He had left Gold Saucer and taken Fenrir out for a drive as soon as he had won enough rounds to satisfy Tifa and the inevitable crowds that gathered to watch him play. He was still wearing the outfit.

Fenrir purred beneath him, firm and familiar. There was no need to keep face now. He was alone, and he let himself feel every vibration as Fenrir sped away from the golden glow of civilisation. Every bump, every patch of uneven ground (and Gaia it was all uneven out here) sent little jolts of pleasure sparking through him.

He rolled his hips against the constricting leather, biting his lip. He couldn't believe he was letting himself get turned on by this. But it felt good. Amazing. That much was undeniable, and the growing, aching hardness of his cock agreed.

Cloud only sped up the further out he drove, pushing Fenrir harder, faster.

One particularly insistent bounce of the bike beneath him finally made Cloud cry out, his eyes rolling back. He skidded Fenrir to a halt, panting. He couldn't drive any further like this and still concentrate. He needed… fuck, he needed it.

He kicked down the stand, leaving Fenrir purring as his hand fumbled with the zip of his leather jacket. He yanked it open. His hands were gloved in leather as well; they felt cool against his heated skin as he worked the shirt underneath up, tracing his fingers across his stomach and down his sides. He hissed in pleasure, running a thumb harshly over one of his nipples.

He was so keeping the jacket on.

Cloud kept one hand working on his chest, while the other hastily, desperately undid his belt. He felt every jolt as he drew his fly down, the bulge underneath absolutely solid.

A moan burst from his lips as Cloud finally touched himself.

The head of his cock was already slick with smeared precome, leaving wet stains on the inside of the leather and on his gloves. He stroked himself harshly, the rough contact all too heavenly after the stimulating-but-never-enough vibrations that Fenrir produced.


More. He still wanted more.

Cloud leant forward, bending himself over Fenrir, pressing his flushed face against the thrumming metal. He rose up on the footpegs until he had just enough room to pull those damn leather trousers down past the curve of his ass.

Cloud hadn't thought to bring lube but he didn't even care. He took a gloved finger into his mouth. For a moment he considered pulling the glove off with his teeth, but with a wicked grin decided against it. He slicked the leather with his tongue and reached back.

Cloud groaned as he slid a finger inside himself, quickly joined by a second. He used his other hand, wrapped around his dick, to squeeze and fondle himself.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Cloud breathed, working himself over. "Nn, Fenrir…"

He bucked and moaned as his fingers stroked over that sweet spot inside him. He was trembling, muscles tensing, with a thin sheen of sweat already beginning to form on him. All of it just added to the constriction of the gorgeously tight leather. It was going to be hell to try to peel off later, but for now it only served to fan the flames of Cloud's arousal.

The hand on his dick stroked firmly over the sensitive head, and Cloud shuddered. Then he trailed his fingers away, grasping for the handlebars instead.

He knew it wasn't that great for the bike, and he would apologise to Fenrir for it later. But right then he revved the engine as hard as it would go, ramping up the intensity of the vibrations. Cloud's cock was pressed between the muscle of his stomach and Fenrir's solid body, his hips bucking and grinding against the leather seat. He fucked himself with his fingers, bursts of ecstasy lighting up like stars behind his eyes every time he touched that one perfect spot. His brows furrowed in concentrated pleasure.

Cloud cried out as he came, gasping Fenrir's name. He spurted out thick, sticky streams of his seed against the bike, the shattering peak of pleasure sending shivers through his whole body.

He twisted the engine off and let his forehead rest against the handlebars, allowing his fingers to slide out of his ass as the trembling aftermath of his orgasm began to even out.

"Mmn… sorry about that, boy," Cloud panted eventually, stroking Fenrir's side. He'd made a pretty mess of his beloved motorbike and didn't have anything to clean it up with. Although, he supposed he could always…

Oh, hell, it wasn't like there was anyone around to judge him for it.

Cloud licked his own come off of Fenrir, the bitter saltiness mixing with the tang of metal. It was a filthy thing to do, and Cloud grinned. The mess on his own stomach he didn't care about, just pulling his shirt down over it and readjusting his pants and all his leather and zippers back into place.

He spurred Fenrir back into life, a lot slower and more steady for the return journey.

With a wry smile, Cloud concluded that he probably wouldn't be able to get away with wearing his new outfit all that often. Unfortunately. But he was keeping it. He was so definitely keeping it.

For… special occasions.