Chapter Text
Finana loves Final Fantasy. She also hates Final Fantasy.
She loves Claude — and in the same breath, she wants to strangle him.
A woman of multitudes. She is a complex being, who can feel multiple things at once, even as her brain is being turned into paste after the tenth pull. The song in the background will haunt her dreams, her hands pressing phantom buttons after hours of muscle memory drills — but for now, they managed to claw their way to the second phase a handful of times.
The party disbands, and stream ends shortly after.
Her ending song slowly starts to fade, and the giant red notification haunting her Discord DMs is starting to call to her like a siren. Actually - that would imply Claude isn't the siren in this interaction. Which he is. Even with Finana being a fish princess, there's a vision of Claude shirtless on the ocean-side rocks that's starting to break her brain a little.
Okay — she hit the stop stream button. She's allowed to look now.
Claude doesn't send photos of himself often — he rarely takes them to begin with, with the exception of food or the once in a blue moon post-workout selfie. She has those saved to a folder for a reason — they're a rare commodity. All that to say it's clear this mood he's in is influencing every inch of his behavior, since all Finana could even gleam from the brief look she got hours ago was that he wasn't wearing a shirt.
She opens up their message history, and drinks in the photo.
Only half right about him not wearing a shirt, it's a simple enough photo — he's still in bed, sitting up and leaning towards the camera. The horrible part is that Claude listened to her request, and is doing everything in his power to emphasize his chest — his arms are at his front, squeezing his muscles together, and he's in a jacket that's clearly shrunk in the wash once or twice, if how it clings to his skin is any indication. There's a shy flush on his cheeks, and his bedhead is only somewhat tamed, as if he quickly staged this photo before he had to leave for the studio.
It's only when Finana hears the creaking of her mouse's plastic casing that she realizes her entire body locked up with unbridled want at the very sight of him.
She's no stranger to arousal or desire — but god, it's moments like these that she curses the distance between them, that she can't sink her teeth into his skin and claim him as her own. Her hind brain preens at the knowledge that she's the only one who gets to see this, to gaze at his flushed skin and demure expression.
How the same man can be so annoying yet so ladylike is a mystery that Finana doubts she'll ever solve.
If Finana has the timing right, Claude should be well on his way back to his apartment at this point — if he doesn't stop by the gym, or the park, or any number of his favorite errands. Hilariously, right as she's about to smash her keyboard in lieu of proper words, Claude starts typing.
>see if i ever send you a photo of my boobs again
>mf doesn't even say anything
>my girlfriend hates me so bad
Finana can't help but roll her eyes, and decides to catch him off guard for once. She calls him, turns her camera on, and waits.
It's only a minute until Claude joins the call, his camera on to show him sat at his desk with a shit eating grin on his face. Something surges in Finana, and she leans close to the monitor.
"Take off your shirt." Claude laughs, even as a flush starts to rise on his cheeks.
"What happened to hello? How are you?" The bastard has his hands in his lap, specifically so his arms can squeeze his chest together again.
"Complaining about me not responding to your text while I'm streaming, and now you won't show me your boobs?" She teases. "Hi honey, I hope you had a good time at the studio — now take off your shirt."
Claude isn't a stranger to Finana's moments of dominance — but true to form, he gets shy every time. It only makes her want to push it further, watching as he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and gracefully pulls it off in a single swoop. Even after all this time — Claude instinctively wraps his arms around himself, as if he's somehow embarrassed by all the work he's put into his physique.
He cut his hair again, so the redness starting to creep over his ears and neck are on full display. Even as he makes a futile attempt to cover himself, Finana can't help but lick her lips at the sight of his light pink nipples and curved biceps. How she landed such a beautiful man still astounds her daily.
Getting comfortable herself, she takes her hair out of the claw clip it's been sat in for hours, and rolls up her sleeves to her elbows.
"Sit on your hands." Claude follows the command quickly, knowing the routine by now. It's her favorite little cheat code — it helps him relieve the anxiousness that strings through his body like a taunt bow and arrow, while also ensuring he's not able to cover himself up. Two birds, one stone. "Good. Now, I can appreciate your boobs properly."
Claude ducks his head down a little, but he knows not to try and stop her. Besides — he's put a lot of effort into his body. He likes when it's appreciated.
"Come on - scoot your chair in. Did you go to the gym today?" Claude inches himself forward, and shakes his head.
"Nah — probably will later. Sorry I'm not uh… pumped." He laughs, and Finana giggles.
"Sorry waiter, I requested my lobster with extra butter." She drones somewhat sarcastically, and Claude smiles. "Can we…?" She trails off, but Claude picks up the implication. With the timezone difference, they have to take the moments they can for their online trysts, if you will. He nods, and jerks his chin towards the side of his desk.
"It's uh, right there. Won't have to go far." His skin burns, and Finana feels heat pool in her abdomen. Having this kind of power over a man like Claude is intoxicating. "And uh — I wanna make sure you get some rest. So now would be… the best time."
Finana would hardly prioritize sleep over sex with her boyfriend, but she loves him enough to take better care of herself than she would normally. Luckily, in this moment, she doesn't have to choose.
"Perfect." She gets up for just a brief moment, quickly retrieving her vibrator from the box hidden under her bed — her quietest one, even if everyone in the house is asleep. "Alright — time for my pretty consort to prove his loyalty to me, hm?"
Claude groans with embarrassment — it seems the haze he was in has sobered up just a little.
"I - I don't know what the hell I was saying." He laughs, a little strained. "Lets uh, not do emperor and consort roleplay?" It's said in a joking way, but Finana knows the nugget of truth beneath it.
"I wasn't planning on it — I just wanted to make fun of you a little." He groans again, clearly lamenting that he can't hide his face with his hands. "Besides, you have nothing to prove. You're the prettiest thing here."
"I object — my girlfriend is objectively beautiful." Finana blushes, and rolls her eyes.
"Flattery won't get you out of what I have planned, honey." Claude shrugs with a lazy smile. "You can stop sitting on your hands — I'd rather you not numb them out. Rule is you can only touch your chest, not cover it — got it?"
"Yes ma'am." Probably on purpose, when his hands reach his chest, he seems to mostly be holding his pecs for comfort rather than fondling himself. Not that Finana can judge, she does the same thing — but it's not quite what she had in mind.
"I said touch, baby, not hold!" She complains, only a touch petulantly. Claude smiles shyly, and slowly massages his chest. His breathing slows down a hair, eyes fluttering shut. "There we go. You can touch your nipples a little bit, but not too much. I know they're sensitive."
Claude groans in embarrassment once again — as he often does. Finana craves the sound like water.
"I should've never told you that." Finana laughs — because she would've found out anyway. "Are you - uh, are you touching yourself?" His eyes hold a little flame of interest, feeling so exposed while he can't see his girlfriend below the waist.
"A little." Not a lie — her hand is in her pants, but she's avoiding the spot of wetness in her underwear for now. It's not her time yet. "Don't focus on me — I wanna focus on you."
Claude shuffles in his chair, accidentally brushing his thumb too hard against his nipple, and he can barely bite his lip before a moan warbles out. He tries to stifle himself, which is cute on its own, but it's even better when he can't help it. Finana's breath grows heavy at the very sound of it.
"You know I like to hear you." Claude whimpers in lieu of talking back. Interesting — he's playing along quicker than usual. "Mhm! Like that, baby." The praise makes him whimper again. God — she loves him. "Alright — you have lube near you?"
Claude nods.
"Good — you can stop touching yourself and get it." Claude barely has to lean over to open up a drawer with a bottle of lube inside. "Prep yourself — you know which one." When Claude leans back towards the camera, he's already retrieved the item in question.
A long, eight inch tentacle with a flared base and suction cup at the end. Finana will never forget the day she bought it for him, the perfect mix of shock and interest as the package showed up on his doorstep. Her own equipment certainly isn't that large, but it's not dissimilar to her own appendage at the peak of mating season.
"Someone's eager." Claude flushes, working his gym shorts and boxers off.
"Shut up." Finana giggles.
"Never." And he knows that. Once he's left bare, he quickly covers the seat with a gym towel.
"Can uh, I start with two fingers?" Oh, he's really eager. Finana's hand starts drifting towards her folds.
"God yes. Don't hurt yourself." Claude nods, determined. With the core strength he's built up over years, he perches himself up on the desk chair, leaning himself onto the desk. Finana wishes she could see his backside at the moment, but honestly, Claude's flushed face and neck is a more than fair trade off. His fingers lubed, he looks over his shoulder and inserts both of them into his hole, and Finana feels her fingers growing wetter without her moving them.
"Ah - ah." His breath stutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he adjusts himself to a more comfortable position. "Haah… Fuck, I'm really, uh, pent up."
"Hm? You haven't touched yourself?" Claude darts his eyes away, and shakes his head while he works his fingers in deeper.
"You uh - ah - know I don't really uh, oh god, do it much… without you." He bites his lip as he scissors inside himself. Finana wishes she could teleport.
"Claude, you can't say stuff like that, you're already… too adorable." She lets out a sigh as her fingers brush against the tentacle slowly urging out of her folds. Claude groans, ducking his face into his chest. "God, I uh, saw that clip of everyone calling you a maiden. Are you a demure lady, Claude? Am I defiling you?"
Claude coughs out a groan, though there's a little laugh underneath.
"Is this your feminization kink coming ou- ah - out?" He teases, but his cock is rock hard against his stomach.
"Like you don't enjoy it a little." Claude mixes a laugh with another moan, and Finana starts stroking herself with a little more speed. "The way you cover your face when you're shy… That little high-pitched voice you do when you're nervous. Especially when people compliment your muscles." Claude's breathing is heavy, and his voice catches with each thrust. "God, put another finger in. Get yourself wet for me."
Claude obeys, a third finger stretching him out with just enough pain to be pleasurable. His eyes water just a little, and a few moans slip out from his pretty pink lips.
"I bet you could fit into one of my bras. Squeeze your tits together…" Finana feels drunk. Claude can't help but laugh-moan.
"Fuck, please." He sits back onto his chair, his face shy. "I'll be a pretty lady for you - ugnh - so long as I'm… yours."
That's what snaps the last shred of restrain Finana had.
"Do you feel stretched? Could you take me?" Even if it's a silicon toy — Finana's brain wants to treat it as an extension of herself. She wishes she could feel Claude squeeze around her appendage, his nails scratching red lines into her back. Claude nods furiously. "Put it in, fuck."
Claude removes his fingers, lubing up the tentacle with a speed born only of want. The base suctions to the chair, and Claude raises himself up with his thighs in order to slowly sink down. Finana watches as the toy disappears into him, inch by inch — even as he stops midway.
"You okay, baby? Am I too big?" She feels delirious, like her tongue is too big for her mouth. Claude shakes his head.
"N-no, I j-just… Fuck, I'm really close." Finana hikes up her leg on her chair, and rubs herself like she's running out of time. Every part of her body is on fire.
"It's okay, you can come, don't stop on my account, please don't stop." Claude is covered in sweat and pre-cum, his hair sticking to his forehead as his thighs tense and shake. Finana's teeth itch with the urge to bite, to eat him alive.
"I don't want it to be over… that fa-aah!" He sinks down another inch or two — Finana's too addled to tell. "I'm gonna… fucking take it to the base, holy shit." One hand comes to clutch at his stomach, and something primal within Finana wishes she could see a bulge. Maybe one day.
"Yeah? You gonna take my cock all the way?" Claude nods, tears beading at his waterline and sticking to his lashes. "Fuck, Claude, you're so hot. I love you."
"Fuck, I love you so much." With a sob, he sinks down to the base. His body is taut from the strain, tears streaming down his cheeks before his cock finally spills onto his stomach and chest. At the sight of cum on his boobs, Finana spills into her hand and desk chair, soaking her underwear through.
They both sit there, panting and sweaty, until Claude starts giggling. Finana quirks an eyebrow, barely able to un-slump herself in her chair.
"What?" Claude keeps laughing, pushing his hair back from his forehead.
"Nothing I just… hehe." He mirrors her position, slumping back in his own chair. "I was just thinking how much of a whore I am." Finana rolls her eyes.
"Is that a surprise?" Claude squawks in indignation. "Come on — you talked about your tits even before we got together. You love your big boobs."
"W - I work hard on them! Of course I wanna show them off!" Finana makes a hand motion that screams, 'case and point'.
"It's okay baby. I love your big boobs too." Claude rolls his eyes, grabbing his chest on instinct before his hand gets covered in his own cum.
"Ugh - ew. I need a shower. As you do, I'm sure." Finana groans in lieu of a response. "At least rinse yourself off before you go to bed, baby. You'll regret falling asleep all sticky."
"I knoooooooooow. Eugh." The clock ticks towards 2 a.m. Not for the first time, Finana curses the timezone difference. "Have a good rest of your day today, baby. Take a photo after the gym so I can see your boobs again." Claude rolls his eyes.
"I'm starting think you're dating me just for my boobs." Finana giggles. "Fine, fine. Go shower, stinky."
"You're stinky!" Claude sticks out his tongue.
"Yeah, but you're stinkier. You're soooo stinky. Everyone point and laugh at the stinky fish." Finana huffs.
"Fine! Go do your responsible adult stuff. See if I care." Claude laughs, and they both sit in silence for a moment too long. "Claude."
"No, you hang up."
She can hear his boisterous, beautiful laugh as she angrily exits the call.