Elena: Talk The Talk

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Rating: R / M, for language and sexual content.
Pairing: Reno/Elena/Rude, and all the shades in between.
Warnings: Sex, swearing, threesomes. Het and yaoi content.
Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII, or any of the places or characters mentioned in that series and this piece of fanfiction. No profit is being made, I write for free.

Notes: This is the first part of a three-part fic, all parts vaguely related in that they each explore the relationship between the three Turks. They all vary in size and content, and each is told from the point of view of one of the three-- Elena first, Rude second, Reno last. Written for, and with the help of, the ever-wonderful Swanwhite.

Part one of three. Reno and Rude take Elena's Turk training into their own hands.

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Elena feels the pressure building inside her. The low hum of fear is loud in her ears; rough fingers press paths into her back and chest, too gentle for bruises, too firm to shake off. Elena takes an unsteady breath and lets it out again quickly, hands fisting in the dark material of her uniform pants.

She wonders how she got herself roped into this.

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Reno and Rude had both always known exactly how to push her buttons. Reno would stop at the door of some seedy-looking bar, taking in her sudden folded arms and pursed lips; I won't be bullied into it this time, Elena would think, determined. But they always knew.

"If you're scared, there's no need to be." His voice would be careless, and that smug little smile of his always had made her want to scream. "There's no shame in being a lightweight. We'll go easy on you." The words would hold a challenge; he'd turn to the calmer member of their team, cock his head in her direction. "Won't we, Rude?"

She could never help it-- the anger rose in her, the need to prove herself, and she would wake up the next day with a thumping headache and ketchup stains all over the front of her shirt.

Elena would never find out exactly what had happened the night before, but she always came home safe, uninjured, and sane enough. That was really the best she could hope for.

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"How many pressure point in a man's body?"

It sometimes took her a minute or more to find the answer Rude was looking for, tucked away in some part of her subconscious, but she always did find it.

"Come on, Elena," Reno taunted her, legs swinging under the table he was currently perched on. "Nobody's going to give you this long in a fight."

Elena knew all the answers. She knew a lot of things she shouldn't have, a lot of things nobody would teach her; probably more than Reno and Rude combined. Unfortunately, Elena had no practical experience, and she had always had trouble remembering the right answers to the right questions.

She was organised in every other aspect-- she spent a lot of time making sure that she had things done to the best of her abilities. But no amount of organising could seem to sort out her memory.

Elena had been surprised, to say the least, when her teammates had offered to help her out.

How many levels before you master a Fire spell? Where is the Mu's natural habitat? What does this symbol represent on a map?

They had been doing this for two months now, and though Elena's confidence had improved, her thinking was still sluggish. She felt frustrated, pinned down, like a wildcat in a trap: if she could just struggle hard enough, bite deep enough, she would work her way out.

To her eternal surprise, neither Reno nor Rude stopped tutoring her. Rude would wait in silence for her answers, and Reno would provoke her into giving them. They both had entirely different approaches, but they worked together to press the right buttons.

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The pressure doesn't lessen, no matter what she tries.

Deep breathing only serves to make her more breathless than ever; trembling fingers clawing at her buttons only makes her hotter. Elena knows she must look stupid-- flushed, out of breath, hair mussed and shirt half-open.

Rude hisses something in her ear, and Elena fans herself with her free hand, the other gripping the corner of the desk with more desperation than she feels is possible.

"Come on, Elena," breathes Reno, and he is close, much too close. "You know this one."

She can feel the calluses on Rude's fingers, even through her shirt. The air is heavy with something, something that buzzes quietly through Elena's senses-- magic, or something like it. "I don't know," she says, and frowns. "How do you… I don't--"

Reno kisses the base of her throat, and she doesn't bother to finish her sentence. They both know that she cannot possibly talk freely in such circumstances: the deep flush on her cheekbones is enough to tell them that. They're barely touching her, and Elena already feels drunk, helpless.

The blush deepens, anger adding another flare of colour. "You can't expect me to answer that," she says finally, with as much dignity as she can muster.

Reno looks up at her and she almost expects a response; but then he dips his head and closes his mouth around her breast, tongue wetting the fabric of her shirt, and Elena releases her breath in a slow sigh. He does, she realises. Rude's hand slips around her waist, protectively, and the touch burns deep. They both do.

"Three." Elena voice wavers, and she presses her eyes closed for a moment. Reno leans back to look at her and smiles, though it is impossible to decide what sort of smile it is.

Rude whispers something else in her ear, and Elena realises that he has corrected her answer. She turns her head to look at him, eyes opening, frustrated.

This is another gap in her knowledge, then.

Her thought process is completely derailed, and so Elena switches track. She leans in and kisses him, the touch gentle, until she bites down suddenly on his lower lip. It is barely enough to bruise, but Rude pulls back, sucking in a quick breath with a hiss. Reno watches, grinning.

A wicked idea strikes her then, and Elena turns so that she is facing the other male Turk. Her grin mirrors his: Reno watches her with interest, his eyes following her movements. She pushes herself off the desk, both hands pressing against the scratchy wood behind her.

"Hmm?" Reno sounds confident, as though he knows all that Elena is capable of and isn't intimidated in the least. Her grin widens. Slowly, she takes a step forward, hands wrapping themselves protectively around her sides; Reno pulls her into his arms, still watching her with a smirk.

The arrogance in his expression vanishes as he feels the bite of cold metal at his ribs, the hammer of her gun loud in the sudden quiet. Rude laughs from behind her, the sound rumbling in his chest-- Elena cocks one eyebrow and asks, "Does this work for you?"

When the surprise has worn off, Reno's lips quirk into a grin again. "Sure," he answers, and there is no nervousness in his voice. "Though Rude seems to be the guy with all the answers."

Elena puts her gun away, the heat still in her cheeks. "Good. Because now I have some questions for you both."

The words hold a challenge, and Elena is pleased to find that she knows exactly which buttons to press, too.

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