All the characters belong to Square Enix. I am making no profit out of this and mean no harm. The words are mine.
Life seemed so easy sometimes. Those times were rare and short, but that was what made them so special.
Long hand made completely out of strength and power, cast for war and destruction, held his neck, tightly, strongly, refusing to let go. It squeezed just enough to bring him back to reality, but not even nearly to do any harm, though it threatened enough for Vincent to remain calm. He swallowed, as much as the grip allowed, but he couldn’t speak, because that was beyond his limit right now.
Then he felt his lips crashing into the other’s, thinner yet far more powerful. He tasted silk, cast iron and spit. Marble teeth clashed into his own, showing that not everything was perfection, even though this reached as close as things got. The other hand traced his nude body, finally resting at the low of his back, pulling him closer, pulling him into soft leather and uncovered skin.
It was beautiful, as beautiful as it got when only the flesh was involved. And perhaps that was it; it wasn’t just in the material sphere, but much higher, where they both reached, spreading their tentacles like rain creating a puddle in the ground, joining on levels on the verge of their perception and understanding.
It didn’t make it any less pleasurable, though. They both knew their bond was unbreakable, even though it took less than an hour to create, even though one would probably be lost to the other after one of them walked through that door. They each knew they were made for one another, from the moment their senses felt the presence of the other.
It was beyond the explanation of science, even if it wasn’t magic.
The long fingers, too slender for pain and scars, touched his cheek and Vincent leaned into the palm, wanting to savour every moment, every touch.
He seemed like a wraith, having control even of his heartbeat, looking like a statue even though it was obvious the man was lost in pleasure; as lost as someone as perfect as him could be.
Sephiroth was deep inside him, his hands over him, his feet firmly on the ground. Vincent was beyond control, quiet, wary, protected. He felt as though in a womb as those strong hands wrapped around him, keeping the very air away from his skin.
How could anything be so perfect? How could he feel attracted to him as though they had known each other their entire lives? Where did that trust come from? Would it ever go away?
The climax came and went, washing both of their bodies with sweat and sweet afterglow. They clung onto each other, holding strongly as though for dear lives. They didn’t say one word since the moment it started. Sephiroth was as quiet and catlike as ever, always watching, always listening, always on alert. Vincent held to his body as though a child sucking on its mother’s breast, just enjoying the warmth of another being next to him, something he hadn’t felt in decades. He clung onto him as a starving man held bread.
His breathing slowed down enough to hear Sephiroth’s, as quiet and soldier-like as it was. Vincent was weak when compared to him, physically, but he grabbed that skin and muscles and held onto them as he never held anything. He didn’t want to let go, because that might mean the end of it; that might mean goodbye and all his dreams turning back into nightmares.
This man brought pleasure and no one could tell him he was cold and unreachable. He held onto him for so long, fearing to fall asleep again, fearing of losing this one moment so perfect that it redeemed all his sins.
Or at least most of them.
But, even the longest things had to end eventually, and his eyes closed and mind drifted onto other spheres and places, leaving wondering about sleep claiming him, even though he hadn’t felt it, for morning.
---
He killed him. He killed him. He, Barret and Cloud. They killed him. They went after the perfection turned corrupted and killed him. Just like that, one day he was perfect, the next he was tainted, then he was dead.
Just like that.
One year ago, they killed him, after he’d put them through their personal hells and took their friend away from them.
Aerith… The only person in this world who’d actually bothered with Vincent. She’d sit next to him by the fire and talk about the silliest things ever. Vincent wasn’t that interested in gardening, but it felt nice having someone regard him as equal and not a scary beast in the corner.
He killed her.
They killed him.
Vincent went on with his life as much as he could, pretending it didn’t happen, pretending all his sins had been forgiven, even though his redemption was definitely dead and not just proverbially. He tried to smile for those people he called friends and keep the nightmares away.
Reno helped a lot. One year and one day ago, the two of them had shared a bed, alcohol and fear for their lives definitely acting as catalysts. In the morning, the alcohol had waned off and less than a day later Vincent had become a murderer. That night had been spent drinking enormous amounts of liquor and celebrating the very fact that they had survived, while Vincent had hid in the corner and talked on the phone with Reno, not understanding where exactly the need to do something silly like that had arisen in both of them.
They had met a few days later, no liquor and no fear, only the fact that they’d both liked what they’d done and wouldn’t have minded repeating it.
That was one year ago.
“Come to bed, yo,” Reno called from the bedroom door, wrapped in a bathrobe that made Vincent smile every time he saw it – all the pink and frills of this world collected into one atrocity that only Reno was manly and crazy enough to wear.
Vincent did turn around, the smile too stubborn for him to hide, and got up from the sofa, thinking a warm body in a warming bed was better than mulling over the past mistakes, even though he knew the latter was stronger than the former and would eventually win.
But not tonight.
He closed his eyes and sighed as Reno’s hands pushed him onto the mattress and he seated himself over Vincent. He opened them again, to be presented with a gorgeous smiling face, hair still dripping wet. And the robe. It made him smile again.
“Why can’t you throw that monstrosity away?” Vincent asked, his hands already on it. He thought at first he just didn’t want to see it, but the truth was he wanted Reno naked. The robe was just on its way and, as ugly as it was, he loved it.
He felt silly for thinking that.
Reno laughed, the almond shaped eyes closing as his head leaned back with the small spasm. Vincent could see his tattoos better that way. He touched them with his thumbs and sighed as Reno got all open eyed and serious. He arched down then, kissing Vincent with all the gentleness and passion he could muster, before deciding to finally help him with removing the robe, both already either hard or well on their way to it.
Vincent took control, grabbing Reno’s pelvis as he rolled them on the bed, Reno now down and Vincent on top of him, between his legs and just being there, loving the sensation of another human’s limbs around his waist and lips on his.
Then his cell phone rang. He didn’t notice it at first, but it was Reno whose head shot back, towards the mattress, trained enough to have a conditioned response to a phone ring. Vincent thought about begging him not to answer, but then he realized it was his device. The begging did happen, only the roles were reversed.
And Vincent didn’t listen the same way Reno wouldn’t have. “Aw, fuck!” he said instead, rolling his eyes, too vocal and loud even though he didn’t mean it, as Vincent pressed the phone to his ear, wondering why Cloud called him this late. He felt Reno’s legs relax on the bed instead of gripping his waist.
“Cloud?” Vincent asked, trying to keep the frustration away from his voice, and that at least wasn’t hard, considering his history.
“Vincent,” Cloud answered. Vincent expected it to be equally blank, but when he spotted the desperation wrapped around the tone, he tensed, getting into a seated position. Even Reno noticed it and stopped pouting, deciding to get dressed instead. “Come to Aerith’s church, please,” Cloud continued, and Vincent jumped from the bed in no time, glancing around, looking for his gun.
“What happened?” he tried after Cloud went quiet and all he could hear was deep irregular breathing.
“Please. When can you be there?”
Without hesitating, Vincent grabbed everything and rushed to the door. He nodded towards Reno, who didn’t protest this time, but instead just smiled with understanding and closed the door behind him. “In half an hour.”
“Hurry, please,” Cloud responded, then hung up. Vincent tensed. Not many things scared Cloud, and whatever did this time was enough to alert Vincent as well.
---
Vincent parked the car as near to the church as it could get which, considering the decay of the slums, wasn’t near enough. He jumped out of it, holding his gun in his hand and ran as fast as he could to the church, prepared for the worst, thinking of better things. Thinking of how Reno would kill him if he knew where he’d been with his little sports baby Vincent had always teased him was an obvious substitute for something.
The doors of the church were open slightly, just enough for him to slip in. As stealthily as he could, he passed the short distance, making sure he kept in the shadows. Left, right, he scanned the area until he was certain no one was there. Well, no one except Cloud right next to the flowers and… he was seated next to… something.
Vincent put his gun back into its holder, not bothering to keep as quiet as before, and Cloud finally turned his head towards him. His lips were spread in a small smile, but it was anything but positive. Two seconds later, his head turned the other way, eyes lowering down, looking at that thing again.
He felt something, a familiarity. He couldn’t decipher it, though, but he knew he had felt it somewhere. It was a feeling of camaraderie and more, a scent so old that used to be powerful but was waning now. He walked slowly, carefully, towards Cloud, not daring say a word, knowing Cloud would not answer him. Not after sensing the amount of distress in the boy’s body. As he neared him, he noticed Cloud’s shoulders were shaking, and he kept on staring at that thing on the flowers.
At that body on the flowers, long naked hands around long naked knees, curled in a foetal position, skin baby white and soft, barely breathing, barely alive, long hair completely wet and sticking in dark grey strands all over his back.
His throat dried so much that talking hurt. “H… how?” he tried, despite the pain and the sudden feeling of bile choking him. His hands started shaking and he stopped feeling his legs.
“She said it was decided,” Cloud answered, voice mechanic, empty, blank. He was still staring at him, eyes down on the flowers. “We must take care of him.”
Vincent just closed his eyes. All of a sudden, even breathing became too much, too hard, too painful. At least he knew where that feeling came from and what it meant. He knew he couldn’t leave him now. He knew there was not enough strength in his body to turn around and walk away, because that was just not meant to be.
His shaking hand clutched around the butt of his gun. It helped, in a way, this conditioned reaction to holding Cerberus, the same way a child stopped crying upon hearing its mother’s heartbeat.
“Let’s get him to the car,” Vincent started, hating himself for every word he just said and even more for those he was about to make. Cloud turned his head again, looking at him with those glowing eyes that looked so much older than the boy really was; and he was a boy, despite everything that had happened to him. Vincent still thought he deserved at least five more years of childhood, but the world was not that kind. It never had been.
“We’ll go to my place.”
He knew Reno was going to kill him.
---
Vincent kept his eyes on the road, not daring to look any other way. He could percept far too much with his other senses anyway, and just the fact that he was confined in a small room with… that was horrifying enough.
Cloud wasn’t much different, sitting next to him, frozen, a bit more stable than back in the church. There was something with soldiers and following orders and, Vincent suspected, SOLDIER program was far more advanced in that department. The moment he ordered Cloud to carry Sephiroth, he seemed to have calmed down.
Not much, but enough.
Now, though, he was slowly returning to whatever place his mind went when it tried to protect its owner from harm. Vincent felt sick with it all. He couldn’t look to the rear view mirror, knowing the sight of what he’d manage to catch.
After everything Sephiroth had done, the idea of having him back scared the shit out of him. And, unlike Vincent, Cloud had been far, far more tortured by that man and the only reason that kept Vincent feel remotely safe was the fact that his gun holster was open, in case Cloud did something stupid.
Concentrating on the road was hard.
“One year anniversary,” Cloud started, voice blank, eyes still on the road, startling Vincent after the quiet. “I just wanted to bring her flowers.” He inhaled sharply, moving his eyes from the main window and onto Vincent, but Vincent couldn’t make himself look back. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
“It’s alright,” Vincent answered, voice mechanic, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, turning left into the street of his and Reno’s building.
Shit.
He just realized Reno would be there. Somewhere, remotely, he had known it the entire time, but this was perhaps the first moment he’d actually realized that Reno, his lover for the past year would be in the apartment he was planning to put Sephiroth, someone who meant to him beyond the description of mere words, right here, right now.
Shit.
Long hand made completely out of strength and power, cast for war and destruction, held his neck, tightly, strongly, refusing to let go. It squeezed just enough to bring him back to reality, but not even nearly to do any harm, though it threatened enough for Vincent to remain calm. He swallowed, as much as the grip allowed, but he couldn’t speak, because that was beyond his limit right now.
Then he felt his lips crashing into the other’s, thinner yet far more powerful. He tasted silk, cast iron and spit. Marble teeth clashed into his own, showing that not everything was perfection, even though this reached as close as things got. The other hand traced his nude body, finally resting at the low of his back, pulling him closer, pulling him into soft leather and uncovered skin.
It was beautiful, as beautiful as it got when only the flesh was involved. And perhaps that was it; it wasn’t just in the material sphere, but much higher, where they both reached, spreading their tentacles like rain creating a puddle in the ground, joining on levels on the verge of their perception and understanding.
It didn’t make it any less pleasurable, though. They both knew their bond was unbreakable, even though it took less than an hour to create, even though one would probably be lost to the other after one of them walked through that door. They each knew they were made for one another, from the moment their senses felt the presence of the other.
It was beyond the explanation of science, even if it wasn’t magic.
The long fingers, too slender for pain and scars, touched his cheek and Vincent leaned into the palm, wanting to savour every moment, every touch.
He seemed like a wraith, having control even of his heartbeat, looking like a statue even though it was obvious the man was lost in pleasure; as lost as someone as perfect as him could be.
Sephiroth was deep inside him, his hands over him, his feet firmly on the ground. Vincent was beyond control, quiet, wary, protected. He felt as though in a womb as those strong hands wrapped around him, keeping the very air away from his skin.
How could anything be so perfect? How could he feel attracted to him as though they had known each other their entire lives? Where did that trust come from? Would it ever go away?
The climax came and went, washing both of their bodies with sweat and sweet afterglow. They clung onto each other, holding strongly as though for dear lives. They didn’t say one word since the moment it started. Sephiroth was as quiet and catlike as ever, always watching, always listening, always on alert. Vincent held to his body as though a child sucking on its mother’s breast, just enjoying the warmth of another being next to him, something he hadn’t felt in decades. He clung onto him as a starving man held bread.
His breathing slowed down enough to hear Sephiroth’s, as quiet and soldier-like as it was. Vincent was weak when compared to him, physically, but he grabbed that skin and muscles and held onto them as he never held anything. He didn’t want to let go, because that might mean the end of it; that might mean goodbye and all his dreams turning back into nightmares.
This man brought pleasure and no one could tell him he was cold and unreachable. He held onto him for so long, fearing to fall asleep again, fearing of losing this one moment so perfect that it redeemed all his sins.
Or at least most of them.
But, even the longest things had to end eventually, and his eyes closed and mind drifted onto other spheres and places, leaving wondering about sleep claiming him, even though he hadn’t felt it, for morning.
---
He killed him. He killed him. He, Barret and Cloud. They killed him. They went after the perfection turned corrupted and killed him. Just like that, one day he was perfect, the next he was tainted, then he was dead.
Just like that.
One year ago, they killed him, after he’d put them through their personal hells and took their friend away from them.
Aerith… The only person in this world who’d actually bothered with Vincent. She’d sit next to him by the fire and talk about the silliest things ever. Vincent wasn’t that interested in gardening, but it felt nice having someone regard him as equal and not a scary beast in the corner.
He killed her.
They killed him.
Vincent went on with his life as much as he could, pretending it didn’t happen, pretending all his sins had been forgiven, even though his redemption was definitely dead and not just proverbially. He tried to smile for those people he called friends and keep the nightmares away.
Reno helped a lot. One year and one day ago, the two of them had shared a bed, alcohol and fear for their lives definitely acting as catalysts. In the morning, the alcohol had waned off and less than a day later Vincent had become a murderer. That night had been spent drinking enormous amounts of liquor and celebrating the very fact that they had survived, while Vincent had hid in the corner and talked on the phone with Reno, not understanding where exactly the need to do something silly like that had arisen in both of them.
They had met a few days later, no liquor and no fear, only the fact that they’d both liked what they’d done and wouldn’t have minded repeating it.
That was one year ago.
“Come to bed, yo,” Reno called from the bedroom door, wrapped in a bathrobe that made Vincent smile every time he saw it – all the pink and frills of this world collected into one atrocity that only Reno was manly and crazy enough to wear.
Vincent did turn around, the smile too stubborn for him to hide, and got up from the sofa, thinking a warm body in a warming bed was better than mulling over the past mistakes, even though he knew the latter was stronger than the former and would eventually win.
But not tonight.
He closed his eyes and sighed as Reno’s hands pushed him onto the mattress and he seated himself over Vincent. He opened them again, to be presented with a gorgeous smiling face, hair still dripping wet. And the robe. It made him smile again.
“Why can’t you throw that monstrosity away?” Vincent asked, his hands already on it. He thought at first he just didn’t want to see it, but the truth was he wanted Reno naked. The robe was just on its way and, as ugly as it was, he loved it.
He felt silly for thinking that.
Reno laughed, the almond shaped eyes closing as his head leaned back with the small spasm. Vincent could see his tattoos better that way. He touched them with his thumbs and sighed as Reno got all open eyed and serious. He arched down then, kissing Vincent with all the gentleness and passion he could muster, before deciding to finally help him with removing the robe, both already either hard or well on their way to it.
Vincent took control, grabbing Reno’s pelvis as he rolled them on the bed, Reno now down and Vincent on top of him, between his legs and just being there, loving the sensation of another human’s limbs around his waist and lips on his.
Then his cell phone rang. He didn’t notice it at first, but it was Reno whose head shot back, towards the mattress, trained enough to have a conditioned response to a phone ring. Vincent thought about begging him not to answer, but then he realized it was his device. The begging did happen, only the roles were reversed.
And Vincent didn’t listen the same way Reno wouldn’t have. “Aw, fuck!” he said instead, rolling his eyes, too vocal and loud even though he didn’t mean it, as Vincent pressed the phone to his ear, wondering why Cloud called him this late. He felt Reno’s legs relax on the bed instead of gripping his waist.
“Cloud?” Vincent asked, trying to keep the frustration away from his voice, and that at least wasn’t hard, considering his history.
“Vincent,” Cloud answered. Vincent expected it to be equally blank, but when he spotted the desperation wrapped around the tone, he tensed, getting into a seated position. Even Reno noticed it and stopped pouting, deciding to get dressed instead. “Come to Aerith’s church, please,” Cloud continued, and Vincent jumped from the bed in no time, glancing around, looking for his gun.
“What happened?” he tried after Cloud went quiet and all he could hear was deep irregular breathing.
“Please. When can you be there?”
Without hesitating, Vincent grabbed everything and rushed to the door. He nodded towards Reno, who didn’t protest this time, but instead just smiled with understanding and closed the door behind him. “In half an hour.”
“Hurry, please,” Cloud responded, then hung up. Vincent tensed. Not many things scared Cloud, and whatever did this time was enough to alert Vincent as well.
---
Vincent parked the car as near to the church as it could get which, considering the decay of the slums, wasn’t near enough. He jumped out of it, holding his gun in his hand and ran as fast as he could to the church, prepared for the worst, thinking of better things. Thinking of how Reno would kill him if he knew where he’d been with his little sports baby Vincent had always teased him was an obvious substitute for something.
The doors of the church were open slightly, just enough for him to slip in. As stealthily as he could, he passed the short distance, making sure he kept in the shadows. Left, right, he scanned the area until he was certain no one was there. Well, no one except Cloud right next to the flowers and… he was seated next to… something.
Vincent put his gun back into its holder, not bothering to keep as quiet as before, and Cloud finally turned his head towards him. His lips were spread in a small smile, but it was anything but positive. Two seconds later, his head turned the other way, eyes lowering down, looking at that thing again.
He felt something, a familiarity. He couldn’t decipher it, though, but he knew he had felt it somewhere. It was a feeling of camaraderie and more, a scent so old that used to be powerful but was waning now. He walked slowly, carefully, towards Cloud, not daring say a word, knowing Cloud would not answer him. Not after sensing the amount of distress in the boy’s body. As he neared him, he noticed Cloud’s shoulders were shaking, and he kept on staring at that thing on the flowers.
At that body on the flowers, long naked hands around long naked knees, curled in a foetal position, skin baby white and soft, barely breathing, barely alive, long hair completely wet and sticking in dark grey strands all over his back.
His throat dried so much that talking hurt. “H… how?” he tried, despite the pain and the sudden feeling of bile choking him. His hands started shaking and he stopped feeling his legs.
“She said it was decided,” Cloud answered, voice mechanic, empty, blank. He was still staring at him, eyes down on the flowers. “We must take care of him.”
Vincent just closed his eyes. All of a sudden, even breathing became too much, too hard, too painful. At least he knew where that feeling came from and what it meant. He knew he couldn’t leave him now. He knew there was not enough strength in his body to turn around and walk away, because that was just not meant to be.
His shaking hand clutched around the butt of his gun. It helped, in a way, this conditioned reaction to holding Cerberus, the same way a child stopped crying upon hearing its mother’s heartbeat.
“Let’s get him to the car,” Vincent started, hating himself for every word he just said and even more for those he was about to make. Cloud turned his head again, looking at him with those glowing eyes that looked so much older than the boy really was; and he was a boy, despite everything that had happened to him. Vincent still thought he deserved at least five more years of childhood, but the world was not that kind. It never had been.
“We’ll go to my place.”
He knew Reno was going to kill him.
---
Vincent kept his eyes on the road, not daring to look any other way. He could percept far too much with his other senses anyway, and just the fact that he was confined in a small room with… that was horrifying enough.
Cloud wasn’t much different, sitting next to him, frozen, a bit more stable than back in the church. There was something with soldiers and following orders and, Vincent suspected, SOLDIER program was far more advanced in that department. The moment he ordered Cloud to carry Sephiroth, he seemed to have calmed down.
Not much, but enough.
Now, though, he was slowly returning to whatever place his mind went when it tried to protect its owner from harm. Vincent felt sick with it all. He couldn’t look to the rear view mirror, knowing the sight of what he’d manage to catch.
After everything Sephiroth had done, the idea of having him back scared the shit out of him. And, unlike Vincent, Cloud had been far, far more tortured by that man and the only reason that kept Vincent feel remotely safe was the fact that his gun holster was open, in case Cloud did something stupid.
Concentrating on the road was hard.
“One year anniversary,” Cloud started, voice blank, eyes still on the road, startling Vincent after the quiet. “I just wanted to bring her flowers.” He inhaled sharply, moving his eyes from the main window and onto Vincent, but Vincent couldn’t make himself look back. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
“It’s alright,” Vincent answered, voice mechanic, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, turning left into the street of his and Reno’s building.
Shit.
He just realized Reno would be there. Somewhere, remotely, he had known it the entire time, but this was perhaps the first moment he’d actually realized that Reno, his lover for the past year would be in the apartment he was planning to put Sephiroth, someone who meant to him beyond the description of mere words, right here, right now.
Shit.
Part 2