Closing his door, Zack didn’t waste time on finesse. He fought with laces and socks and buckles until he was almost fully naked within the seven steps it took to go from his door to his couch. Settling on the battered bit of furniture with a relieved sigh as his hand closed around his hard-on. The first two strokes were pure heaven, just enough to tell his anxious body to be patient as he fumbled for anything conveniently slippery, lotion left over from a dry winter did the trick. Feeling the pleasure right down to his toes, he curled them against the standard-issue carpet as he took himself in hand again.

Jerking off alone, how the mighty had fallen. Zack closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch, settling for what he could get. He had been horny-as-hell all day, the urge leaving him surly with his friends and absentminded with his paperwork. Maybe that was the reason none of his frantic planning had worked. Paula was sick, Joanne off visiting friends, Jessie wasn’t talking to him after the fiasco at the bar. There were others, many others he had called at a whim, by the end he had even stooped to calling Veronica, and got an earful for his efforts. When Veronica started to seem like a good idea, he knew it was time to cut his losses and just seek a little solo relief. He didn’t have the energy or the time for a bar crawl after work, not with his luck so bad.

Up and down, he could almost forget that he was alone in the darkness behind his eyelids. Thinking of Veronica seemed to conjure her up, naked and gorgeous, breasts bouncing in front of his face as she rode his cock like a professional chocobo racer. Her breasts really were her best feature. He smiled as he remembered them. Dream-Veronica didn’t even say anything annoying as she worked him, just those sweet breathy little moans she produced when too distracted by sex to talk. In a way it was better than the real thing.

Zack dreamed about holding her hips, driving into her at a quicker pace, loving the tight feel of her body around him. It was good, but not quite enough. The dream slipped on him, the woman’s hair growing curly and dark as her skin flushed deep cocoa brown. Jessie licked her lips at him as she slid onto his cock, her sultry voice with its back-home accent telling him to give her ‘the jackhammer’. That was the best thing about Jessie, when she was hot, she was red hot, wanting to be shagged long and hard as she raked her claws down his back. He happily obliged, fantasizing the way she’d grab onto his hair and guide his head to her breast as she said the dirtiest things in his ear. Sometimes a little bit of Gongaga-themed TLC wads just what he needed. He wished she were really there, a night with Jessie would have suited him just fine.

“Want me to suck you off soldier boy? Want to stick that gorgeous cock of yours down my throat?”

The memory of that delicious chocolate voice alone was enough to have him resolving to apologize to the woman. Maybe if he wined and dined her a week in exorbitant style he could get her back into a good mood, or at least back into his bed. Grinning he let his dream lover do what she would. Not quite ready to shoot his load yet, Zack wanted to see how good the fantasy could get. Jessie could give incredible blowjobs when she was in the mood for it.

In dreams there was no need for any of real-life’s fumbling transitions, one minute he balls-deep between her legs, the next he was shuddering passively as the beautiful woman kneeled between his thighs on the floor with his cock sliding along her tongue. He raised his free hand to smother his moan, remembering the crazy little things she could do with lips and teeth that nearly had him climbing out of his skin with the need to spill. Looking down at the mass of dark curls as she worked, he resolved that he would have to patch things up with the real Jessie at the earliest possible moment. Some things were more important than a little pride. Mind-blowing oral sex was definitely one of them.

Watching her bobbing up and down on his shaft was hot as hell, but even as he loved it, he felt the dream’s hold on him fading, unable to maintain it’s spontaneity as it drew out. Feeling a little mournful at his lack of imagination, he petted the dark hair, and blinked as it began to get longer, and paler. At first he thought it would be Sam sucking him off, she was certainly forbidden fruit, and well worth a fantasy or two. The hair was long, longer still, too pale to be mere blonde even in the dim light.

He blinked in his dream and the transformation was complete, too large to be the lounge singer and far too masculine. Zack almost jumped off the couch at the idea of Sephiroth in his usual black leathers, kneeling between his legs, and seeming hell bent on sucking his spinal column out through his dick. The officer’s impossibly strong hands clamped him into his seat as he worked. Sephiroth’s mouth, usually set in an impatient frown, pulled his cock with lovingly brutal force. Torn between shock and arousal, Zack bit his fist as the later won with explosive result, shooting all over his pumping hand and chest.

It was a little weird to open his eyes, still buzzing from the aftermath, and furtively inspect his empty room. He was just as alone as when he started, if less horny, and considerably more confused. Looking down at his gunk-covered hand he could only wonder what the hell had just happened.

He had had odd fantasies when jerking-off before. Zack had once dreamed that he and a girl were doing it like rabbits on the news-desk of Channel8 while the broadcast went on around them. That had been weird as hell, but still not half as scary as fantasizing about being sucked-off by the General. Even the one where he had got it on with his seventh grade science teacher, disturbing in its own right even years after last seeing the woman, was nothing compared to this.

“What the fuck was that…?!”

Zack asked his ceiling. The worse thing was, unlike the embarrassing school-teacher-thing, or the funny news-desk-thing, he’d rather be caught dead telling anyone about this. Ever. After working with the man four years he was confident that the rumors of the General’s ‘telepathic’ powers were complete shit, but still, somehow it terrified him that the man would somehow figure it out.

He shivered, fantasizing how he’d get called into his friend’s Spartan little black and white office, with his favored seven-foot blade propped in the corner, and Sephiroth would say in his most ‘I am too civilized to shout but let it be known I’m righteously pissed’ voice, “Zack I would appreciate it if you would leave me out of your sordid little wank sessions in future, understood?”

“Yes sir.” He mouthed to the empty room feeling mortified.

“Get back to work, Thompson.”

“Yes sir.” It would happen. Somehow the man would just know. The thought of going into work in the morning made him cringe.

“Oh and Zack…” The imaginary general called after him as if not done scolding quite yet.

“Yes sir?”

“Nice ass.” Zack sat bolt upright, alarmed by his subconscious’ betrayal for the second time in five minutes. Retreating to his shower, he was grateful when the hot water finally beat the weird thoughts out of him. Feeling considerably more mellow, if rather lobster-like, he crawled into bed with the firm promise to himself that he would refrain from any solo-adventures until he could somehow ensure ‘who’ he’d be solo-ing with. With that thought, Operation ‘Woo Jessie-Girl Back to Bed’ was issued the highest priority. It was either that, or look like an idiot every time Sephiroth glared at him, and that was simply unacceptable.