BY : Rina76
Category: Final Fantasy Anime > Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children
Dragon prints: 1486
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII Advent Children or any of the characters from the film. I am not making money from the writing of this story.

A/N: I am alive!!! Forgive me for my long, long absence but I have a very good reason - I had a baby girl! Her name is Violette. The pregnancy was tough; I was sick the whole time. Now, I have a very demanding 5 month old on my hands. I literally have had NO time to write whatsoever, and I am deeply sorry to you guys for that. I know you’ve been waiting for updates for ages and I have finally managed to get one done. I didn’t want to leave you wonderful people hanging or make you think I abandoned this story. I haven't forgotten my loyal readers and if you’re reading this, I thank you SO much for being so patient. I dedicate this chapter to you all! 

Chapter 15. Suspicions

The next day the guys are training in the gym room again, Loz included. After I’ve showered and dressed in baggy jeans and a loose tank top, I sneak into the wooden-floored room, not wanting to disturb them, quietly sitting on a bench to the sidelines. They’re all wearing those black karate suits again. Kadaj and Loz are fighting each other using hands and fists while Yazoo is warming up with contortion-type stretches on a mat on the other side of the floor, safely away from his duelling brothers. The long-haired Remnant smiles welcomingly at me before continuing to bend his supple body in ways that shouldn’t even be humanly possible. But then, he’s not exactly human, is he?

Kadaj also notices my entrance and affords me a cool glance, his expression hardening a notch before glancing away again. I can tell he’s not too pleased to have me there but he doesn’t order me to get out, instead proceeding to ignore my presence in the room completely which is fine by me.

Too busy fielding off Kadaj’s rapid-fire attacks to notice me at first, Loz eventually realises I am there and turns to grin delightedly at me, which is his mistake because Kadaj promptly smacks him in the face for not paying attention.

“Hey!” Loz exclaims in mild outrage. “Couldn’t you have given me one second to greet my girlfriend?”

“One second is all it takes for someone to fatally wound you,” Kadaj states imperiously. “NEVER let your guard down, Loz. Not for any reason. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Loz scowls. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Daj.”

“Well, don’t ACT stupid then.”

Muttering under his breath, Loz impatiently cracks his neck from side to side and gets back into a battle-stance, fists up and feet apart.

“Yaz. Show your idiot brother how it’s done,” Kadaj commands, indicating for Yazoo to come and join them on the floor. The pretty silver-head immediately gets off his mat and comes over, obviously used to obeying Kadaj’s directions. Yazoo matches Loz’s stance with a smile of anticipation. Kadaj instructs Loz and Yazoo to battle each other, the youngest clone supervising and harshly reprimanding his siblings if they mess up in any way or don’t do things the way he likes them done. I just sit there and watch them training, greatly impressed by their superhuman ability and the way they spin and soar through the air like the laws of gravity don’t even apply to them, something I recall well from the frightening brawl back in the club.

Yazoo and Loz seem equal in skill, both of them knocking each other down at intervals with well-timed hits. The guys are all left handed, although they seem to be able to use their right as well if necessary. Catching his big brother in an unguarded moment, Yazoo grabs his arm, slams the heel of his palm up under Loz’s elbow and dislocates it with a crunch. I gasp and cover my mouth with my hands, shocked by the brutal move. Giving an annoyed grunt, Loz just pops it back into place.

When he next finds an advantage (and gets close enough to Yazoo’s rapidly flitting figure), Loz punches his middle sibling in the lower stomach, hard, and slightly off to the side. Clutching his belly, Yaz gasps and drops to his knees on the floor, acting as if he’d just gotten kicked in the nuts. But Loz didn’t go anywhere near those. He must have hit Yazoo’s kidney or something. Whatever it was, it looks painful.

Gathering back his composure, Yazoo peers up through his silver hair and remarks mildly, “Well, that wasn’t very fair, Loz.”

Loz shrugs. “Just paying you back, bitch.”

Getting up from the floor in a graceful motion, Yazoo smirks. “Lick me.”

“Yeah, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Loz mockingly tosses back.

Yazoo giggles naughtily. “I might, actually.”

“Stop messing around and fight!” Kadaj orders with his arms crossed over his chest, sounding irritated.

“You know what, Daj? You’re really bossy,” the oldest male states in a childishly petulant way. “Standing there barking orders at us like we’re your pet mutts or something. We’re not here to fight for your entertainment.”

“Oh, really?” Kadaj tilts his head, eyes slitting. “Would you prefer to fight ME, then?”

Loz doesn’t have to be invited twice. With a savage grin, he flashes forward past Kadaj in a streak of blue light, whipping around and punching the younger clone in the lower spine, all in the space of milliseconds. Unable to prevent the surprise attack, Kadaj cries out in pain and crumples to the floor on hands and knees. Displaying no pity or sympathy, Loz drives his foot hard into Kadaj’s ribs and kicks him, lifting his littler brother up a few feet into the air, sending him flying in an arc to smash against the wall, Kadaj bouncing off it and slamming into the floor. Astoundingly, the smaller male springs right back up again, unhurt and undamaged, a vengeful look in his eyes, seeking retribution for this viciousness. 

Loz just grins and lifts his chin, making a “Humph,” sound of incitement, goading Kadaj to have a go if he dares. And Kadaj does, exploding towards Loz in a burst of dangerous energy, followed by the noises of fists and feet connecting with hardened muscle.

Leaving those two to duel, Yazoo exits the training room floor, coming over to sit with me. He absently presses against his flat belly, where Loz hit him.

Squinting worriedly at the slim beauty, I ask, “You all right?”

“Of course.” He smiles unconcernedly. “Loz can’t really hurt me. Not permanently, anyway.”

I catch a glimpse of something shiny out of the corner of my eye and realise that Kadaj has left his double-bladed sword on the bench I’m sitting on. I stare at the weapon. It gleams invitingly. Drawn to it, I slide across the seat and reach out to touch the pretty blue tasselled handle but Yazoo grabs my wrist and stops me.

“Don’t touch Souba. It’s dangerous.”

I blink at him, not understanding.

“Souba is the sword’s name. Its blades possess some kind of dark magic,” Yazoo explains. “Something that contaminates each cut they make so that anybody who survives Souba’s attack never fully recovers or forgets about it. Or at least that’s what it does to humans. Even if you just pricked yourself, the wound would get infected and you could die.”

“Okay. Thanks for the warning.” I gulp and slide further back along the seat, away from the hazardous weapon, instead focusing back on Loz and Kadaj who are still battling it out in some kind of martial arts/street-fighting style. Once again, I am astonished at how they can defy gravity, hitting each other while hovering in the air like hummingbirds.

To Yazoo, I comment, “I still can’t get over how you guys fight. It’s like watching a computer game.”

“Where do you think we got most of our moves from?”

I look at him in astonishment. “You’re serious?”

With a nod, he says, “When we were still in the lab and the scientists were finished testing us, we’d go back to our room, free to do whatever we liked for the rest of the day. We had everything young boys could want for entertainment: sports and gym equipment, a television and stereo with shelves full of movies and music, as well as books and magazines. And an electronic game system. We enjoyed the fighting games best and would sit up all night until our thumbs were cramped from pressing the buttons. Imagine our delight when we were able to mimic the actions that our game characters did - the kicks, the punches and the throws. If we saw it, we could do it. After a while, we stopped playing the games and just fought each other. That’s how we learnt to fight, practising together. Of course, we’ve taught ourselves a few new tricks since then and taken up weapons but the general style of our fighting moves is the same as all those years ago.”

Shaking my head in utter amazement, I turn back to the training floor, marvelling at what I see. Kadaj performs a lightning-quick open-palmed blow right to the centre of Loz’s chest, the sheer force of the attack making the bigger brother crash onto the floor with a grunt, sliding over the polished wood on his back like a motorcyclist thrown from his bike mid-race. Yazoo was right – Kadaj IS the strongest out of all of them. He just took Loz down with one hand and this time it’s the young leader’s turn to “Hmph,” in satisfaction, having bested his older sibling with ease.

Loz groaningly gets up from the ground and as he does a thin string of brightly-coloured fluid trickles from the corner of his mouth. He spits more of it onto the floor and it’s the same colour. All the hairs on my arms stand up and I swear under my breath, my eyes widening.

That’s his blood. But it’s not red.

Rather, it’s on the opposite side of the colour wheel.

Seeing my shaken face, Loz drags the back of his hand across his mouth. Glancing at the glistening smear of emerald on his fingers, he simply shrugs. “Ah, it’s nothing, girly. I ain’t hurt.”

“No…I…your blood,” I whisper, still staring in shock. “It’s green!”

“You didn’t tell her? Loz, you really should have warned your new girlfriend about that,” Kadaj remarks with fake innocent concern. “How AWFUL for her to find out this way.”

Wiping his hand on his karate pants, Loz gives me a guilty look. “Sorry. I forgot.”


My baby’s father is an alien. An experiment. A clone. He and his brothers are unnaturally bred creatures produced in an underground lab and though I’ve already had that explained to me I’m still finding it very hard to accept, despite the evidence being right there in front of me, glimmering on Loz’s pants, a small pool of it on the floorboards. There’s a bizarrely pretty glitter to the fluid, like melted jewels.

Appearing uneasy, Loz touches his mouth again, checking his fingertips to make sure there’s no blood left, while I continue to stare, flicking my stunned gaze between him and the other two Remnants, sure that my face must look comical to them with its wide-eyed expression of mute dumbness.

Sparkly green fucking blood. Didn’t see that coming. Not at all.

A slight smile flirts with Yazoo’s lips and he quickly forces it back, politely trying very hard not to appear amused at my reaction, while Kadaj doesn’t even bother to hide his disdain, rolling his eyes derisively.

“Oh, great. Now she’s freaking out. Told you this would happen, Loz.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I say far too hurriedly. “It’s just a little…unexpected. That’s all.”

“Well, if you want to live here, you better get used to it,” Kadaj drones scornfully. “We’re not going to stop training just because you can’t take the sight of us bleeding.”

Yazoo joins in with, “And that happens a lot. At least here in this room. Humans aren’t strong enough to cause much damage to our scientifically-strengthened bodies so the only ones who can make us bleed are each other. As you’ve seen, we don’t hold back because we’re brothers.”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, recalling the shocking crunching sound of Loz’s elbow disconnecting. “I saw that.”

I look between the three of them and their exceptionally pale skin. That explains why they’re so white. It wasn’t just the lack of sunlight down in the lab where they were created. If their blood was red, their skin would look pinker. Like mine. But I’m human. And they’re not. I don’t like agreeing with Kadaj but as he said, I just have to get used to it.

“That’s the mako, right?” I hazard a guess, trying to understand so it’s less frightening to me. “Making it sparkle like that? Like your eyes do?”

Loz nods.

“Is your blood that colour because of the mako injections too? Or because of your… interplanetary heritage?”

Unsure, Loz looks to his smarter middle sibling for the answer. “Bit of both, I think,” Yazoo confirms.

“Are there any other weird factoids I should know about you guys? You don’t have like, tentacles that sprout out of your backs or anything?” I ask cautiously. “Because if you do, now would be a really good time to tell me. Not when I spot you in the shower scrubbing them with a loofah.”

“No tentacles, but blood isn’t the only bodily fluid we have that’s green,” Kadaj fills me in with perverted pleasure. “Surely you noticed it that night in the club bathroom?”

My mind racing, I think back to the time in question. When Loz pulled out and went to take the condom off, he had his hand over it. I thought he was just being shy but he wasn’t. He was hiding this from me. And last night I didn’t even look to see what colour the wet patch on the bed was. Not that I could tell anyway, since his sheets are all black. Hmm, maybe that’s why they ARE black in the first place.

“Gross,” I finally mumble, imagining green semen stains. “If you ever wanted me to swallow, Loz, you can just forget it now.”

At this Yazoo chuckles out loud and Loz, relieved by my acceptance, gives me an embarrassed grin. Even Kadaj manages to form a smirk before turning to Yazoo and challenging him to the next round. Finishing up, Loz shucks off his top, grabs a towel and pats the sweat off his chest, neck and face. At least their sweat is a normal colour, not green but clear.

“How are my babies today?” Loz inquires affectionately as he sits next to me with a plastic cup of water in his hand.


“Yeah – you and that one in there,” he clarifies, patting my rounded belly.

Smiling as our child gives an answering kick, I reply, “We’re fine. How’s daddy?”

“Awesome now that you’re here.” He lowers his voice. “Daj is being a dick as usual.”

“I heard that.” Shooting his brother a catty glare, Kadaj comes over to collect his sword, picking it up by the handle. Seeing how close I was sitting to it, he asks with narrowed eyes, “Did you touch this?”

Looking at the twin-bladed weapon as though it was a poisonous snake, I exclaim, “No way!”

Kadaj appears disappointed. “Pity.”

Taking his evil sword with him, he rejoins Yazoo on the training floor. Yazoo is holding his gun, which has its own name too: Velvet Nightmare. Loz and I watch from the sidelines as his two brothers duel with their respective weapons, Yazoo using his gun to block Kadaj’s sword blows. Kadaj gets to Yazoo anyway, swiftly cutting the black cotton sash cinched around Yazoo’s waist. The sash splits in two and slithers to his feet. Without the belt Yazoo’s long-sleeved karate top falls apart in the centre, revealing his pale chest and stomach. He’s superbly muscular. Not as muscular as Loz, of course, but there’s still some serious hard pec definition under there, as well as a compact set of perfect abs, and I have to bite my lip to stop my jaw from dropping open.

Because, damn. The guy’s fuckin’ hot. He might have a soft, pretty girl-face but his body is most definitely not soft. He’s got a body like a world-class athlete: lean, honed and super-strong. If he didn’t have to keep his identity secret, he would have made a great male model. Anything he was selling, people would buy, no matter how useless and trivial, just because his face was on it.

I’m distracted from Yazoo’s hotness by Kadaj, who with a twitch of his wrist, uses his sword to flick the other male’s gun away. Then, he drops to the floor in a crouching spin kick and sweeps Yaz’s feet from under him, almost too fast for me to see. Yazoo falls on his side. He starts to get up but Kadaj puts both tips of the sword under the slender gunman’s chin, lifting it up. One point pierces Yazoo’s fine skin and I see the emerald blood starting to well from the wound and drip down his neck in a thin line but he doesn’t react or show any pain.

“I got you,” Kadaj announces in triumph. 

Yazoo smiles. In a deep purr, he replies, “Only because I let you…brother.”

“Bullshit. I so took you down, Yaz!”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I did, and you know it.” Seeming pissed off, Kadaj yanks his sword back, scowling at Yazoo as he gets to his feet. “Stop trying to undermine me.”

Still smiling, the middle Remnant issues his challenge. “Let’s do it again then, Kadaj, and we’ll see who gets who first.”

Whispering to Loz, I ask, “Did Yazoo really let him win?”

Loz grins and whispers back. “Nah, he just likes messing with Kadaj’s head.”

Taking the lead this time, Yazoo spins around and shoots at his brother, steadily walking closer with the double-barrelled weapon, while Kadaj rapidly deflects each shot with his sword. Thankfully, Yazoo is shooting AWAY from us people seated on the sidelines and the bursts of fire that Kadaj is deflecting also ricochet across the other end of the room. The wall there is covered with burn marks from previous gunfire shots.

Proving his expertise with a gunblade, Yazoo shoots Kadaj precisely in the wrist; the younger Remnant yelps and drops his sword. Like a silver spring, Yazoo somersaults forward, lands on his feet and then performs a series of swift, one-legged sideways kicks up Kadaj’s front, beginning from the teen’s belly to his chest and then finally to his face, Yazoo’s heel clipping Kadaj’s chin and snapping his head back. Standing on one leg with his other foot in the air, Yazoo is leaning at the waist, upper body parallel to the floor, the very tips of his long hair touching the wooden boards. His belt-less shirt hangs open and for a split-second I can see his stomach muscles tensing as he balances. Quickly kicking Kadaj in the chest again with superhuman force, Yazoo’s final move sends the smaller male soaring backwards and crashing to the floor with a breathless gasp. Before Kadaj can respond or get to his feet, Yazoo does a few fluid gymnastic flips across the room and lands on top of his bossy sibling, straddling him and pressing the tip of his gun to Kadaj’s temple.

“I got YOU now, brother,” Yazoo says in a tone that’s one part low and deadly and two parts seductive purring.

Kadaj slowly smiles up at him. “Only because I let you.”

I notice something odd - Kadaj’s hand is resting on Yazoo’s thigh and Yazoo is doing nothing about it. If they were the boys I’d grown up with in my last foster home they’d be violently springing apart while calling each other all kinds of insulting homophobic names but these two don’t act like any brothers I’ve ever seen. First they stab, shoot and kick each other and now they’re sitting there staring into each other’s eyes like nothing else exists. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d say they were about to make out on the floor right in front of us. The weird thing is, I’m actually kind of excited to see if that will happen but before anything does, Loz clears his throat, breaking the tension.

“Good fight, guys.” 

 The other two look up and at me, as if just remembering that I am there. Yazoo helps Kadaj up off the floor, asking, “How’s your wrist?”

Flexing it, Kadaj replies, “ It’s fine. Oh look, I cut you.”

“Did you? I didn’t feel it.”

Knowing his supernatural sword can’t hurt any of them, Kadaj licks his thumb and swipes away the smear of blood from Yazoo’s neck, much like a mom removing a smudge of dirt from her kid’s face. It’s unexpectedly sweet and touching and once again I’m reminded of how close the bond is between these brothers.

“Hey, Cate?” Kadaj casually throws over his shoulder as he’s peeling off his sweat-soaked karate top. “Make yourself useful and get us some beer from the kitchen.”

“You want a fucking sandwich with that?” I retort in sarcasm. “Listen up, Kadaj - I’m not your maid. I’m not your cleaner and I’m not your cook. I already told Loz that and now I’m telling you.” 

“Please, babe?” Loz joins in, grinning charmingly at me. “Just this once? We’ve been working extra-hard today just to impress you.”

“Yes, we don’t normally put on such displays of strength and manliness but we thought you’d like to see that,” Yazoo teases with a convincing bat of his eyelashes.

A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. In spite of the blood and brutality, I actually DID like watching them, to be honest. I glance at Yazoo’s chest. And Loz’s chest. I avoid looking at Kadaj’s. Despite the sweatiness of their bodies, they all look and smell really, really good. I know the three of them are gazing at me, using their alien hypno-magic to try and make me do what they want, because they’re too damn lazy to go to the kitchen themselves. Bastards.

“Oh, fine. Just this once. But don’t start thinking for one second I’m going to run around after your nicely-toned asses all day just because I’m a girl,” I lecture all of them. “I don’t cook - except for my own food - and I’m certainly not washing your sweaty gym clothes or polishing your leather gear even if it IS super-sexy and stylish. All those chores you can do yourselves, boys, so don’t even bother asking.”

After making my point, I go to the kitchen to fetch beer, feeling slightly stupid for doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do. But dammit, when those gorgeous green eyes lock on to me like laser beams, I find it really hard to resist anything that’s asked of me.

When I get back carrying three bottles of brewed ale, I hand one to Loz and then hesitate when I get to Yazoo. Recalling how he had only drank wine in the nightclub, I question uncertainly, “Do you even drink beer? Should I have gotten something else for you?”

“No, this is perfect.” Accepting the chilled beverage from me, he smiles. “I always have a beer with my brothers after training. Thank you.”

“It’s kind of our thing,” Loz adds, cracking his open and taking a few long swallows. Nudging me and indicating to watch Kadaj’s reaction, Loz takes the last glass bottle out of my hand and throws it straight at the back of his younger brother’s head while he’s putting his sword down. Kadaj’s hand whips up and catches it mid-air without even looking. Their reflexes are amazing.

“Wow,” I blurt without thinking.

Turning around, Kadaj rolls the cold glass over his hot neck and chest. He’s smirking at me. “Are you impressed, Cate?”

“Not by you,” I retort. “I was talking about Loz’s abs. Look at those things. Rock hard, baby.”

I check out my boyfriend’s enviable stomach and Loz grins at my praise. The boys chatter amongst themselves while they down their beers, congratulating each other on fighting moves well done. It seems that sometimes they’re even amazed at themselves and what they can do.

Training time over, Kadaj pauses at the doorway, looks deliberately at Yazoo and then leaves. Yazoo smiles to himself, grabs his towel and then follows. It’s like they just spoke silently, about something private. I would have pondered on this a bit more but Loz invites me to share a shower with him and I can’t say no to helping wash that magnificent muscled body. 

Later, Loz ducks back up to the garage to continue working on the bikes while I hang out in the bedroom. After the nice bout of shower sex we just had, I’m feeling particularly satisfied and happy so I put some music on the stereo and then get a cute purple maternity bra and boy-short panties from my drawer in Loz’s closet, dancing a little as I dress. The bra is a bit too small now and my boobs squish out over the top like I got implants. I try on a favourite t-shirt, lamenting at how it won’t cover my protruding stomach anymore, instead bunching up beneath my breasts in an awkward fashion. Peeling it off, I discard the shirt and just stay in my bra. It’s warm down here anyway. Rummaging through my clothes, I pull out a fringed purple scarf and tie it around my hips, under my bump, leaving my legs bare. Feeling rather exotic and sexy, I start belly-dancing to the music, moving my pelvis in a swirling figure-eight motion. I haven’t done this since before I was pregnant but the baby seems to like the swaying movement, a rush of delight filling me. I should do more of this; it’s great exercise, it’s fun and I actually don’t mind showing off my belly now.

Getting into the groove, I dance around the room, sensually circling my hips and running my palms down over my swollen breasts and rounded stomach, revelling in my blooming womanhood. I shimmy around in a circle only to find someone standing in the doorway.

Kadaj. He’s staring at me.

Stopping dead in my tracks, I yelp and try to conceal my private areas with my arms and hands, a mixture of horror and unwanted excitement rushing through my veins. The fringed scarf around my lower half doesn’t cover anything and he can clearly see my underwear through it, as well as my bra and the breast tissue spilling over the top of the cups, almost showing my nipples.

I know I should tell him to get out but I’m frozen. Oh Gods, why did Kadaj open the door? Was he trying to spy on me or catch me doing something I shouldn’t be?

Rather than mock me for my lack of outfit or for dancing like a harem girl, his eyes just harden. “Turn your fucking music down. Some of us are trying to work,” he snaps. Then Kadaj stiffly spins around and leaves.

I quickly race over and close the door, my hands trembling as I lower the volume on the CD player. I stand there for a bit, my eyes round and bewildered, puzzling over Kadaj’s contradicting behaviour. He was acting all annoyed as he left but when I first turned around I could have sworn he was actually watching me dance.

And enjoying it.

I back away and sit on the bed, feeling shaky and shocked, the thought of Kadaj admiring my pregnant body both disturbing and thrilling. The door suddenly swings open again and I jolt but it’s just Loz. He comes in, glances at the stereo still playing and then at the scarf around my hips, his green gaze curious.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing!” I answer quickly. Realising how guilty that sounded, I amend more honestly, “Just a bit of belly-dancing.”

His eyes brighten. “Like you did in the club?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to be good for pregnant women – keeps the body loose and limber so childbirth is easier. Or so I’m hoping.”

“Will you do it again?” he asks eagerly. “Please? Will you dance for me?”  

After what just happened, I would rather not but he’s looking at me all hopeful and expectant, like a puppy wanting a biscuit, and I can’t say no to Loz without hurting his feelings or lying about why I don’t want to do it.

“Only if you shut the door,” I concede. “I don’t think Kadaj likes my music.”

“I like it,” Loz volunteers, closing the door and locking it, just for good measure. He sits on the bed and looks to me, waiting for the show.

Trying to forget about Kadaj, I focus on the big biker boy in front of me, starting to dance just for him the way I did in that nightclub, when we didn’t know each other yet but wanted to. I remember how sexy I felt then and channel some of that sexiness now, keeping my handsome lover’s attention with each sway of my hips. Watching him as he’s watching me, I notice Loz’s eyes start to glow more intensely, his pupils constricting in direct proportion to his growing sexual desire. He can only watch me dancing for so long before he growls and pulls me over to him, pushing up my bra-cup so he can suck a nipple into his mouth, his hand sliding over my tummy and down into the front of my underwear.

This time when we make love, I deliberately get Loz to pull out of me before he comes so I can allay my curiosity about what his semen looks like. A couple of quick jerks of his fist and a groan later, I get to see it, roping across my stretched stomach and sliding thickly down my sides. It’s nowhere near as alarmingly bright or deeply coloured as his blood, merely a pale, pastel green but it’s still definitely noticeable, the substance also possessing a pearly shimmer to it, like inside surface of shells. Or the powder that comes from butterfly wings.

As I swirl a fingertip wondrously through the thick opalescent fluid, fascinated by the sparkling greenish streak it leaves on my skin, Loz mutters, “It’s weird-lookin’, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s kinda pretty. Never thought I’d say that about sperm but there you go.” I raise my finger to my mouth, Loz observing interestedly from beside me on the bed as I dab it on my tongue.

“Still tastes like normal sperm, though,” I remark disappointedly. Loz chuckles and wipes my belly with the sheet.

“It’s cool, babe. You don’t have to swallow it. Hell, I wouldn’t do it either, if I was a chick.”


That night, when Loz is sleeping, I hear Kadaj moaning again. I don’t know if he’s in bed with somebody or if he’s alone. I’m guessing not alone.

“Sex is one of Kadaj’s favourite hobbies. That and touching himself…”

That’s what Yazoo said a couple of days ago. How does he know that? Through their psychic connection or something more? Maybe he knows because he watches when Kadaj does it. Maybe Yazoo even joins in. Maybe they touch each other. Immediately feeling very dirty and depraved for thinking such a thing, I try to think of something less shameful but all I keep seeing is the inviting way Kadaj looked at his prettier sibling before he walked out the training room door. The way his hand was on Yazoo’s thigh. I can still hear the purr of Yazoo’s voice in my head:

“Only because I let you…brother.”

Makes me wonder what ELSE he lets Kadaj do to him.

Deciding that there’s something really wrong with me, I squeeze my eyes shut and plug my ears with my fingers, not wanting to hear the sound of Kadaj getting off, no matter who he’s with.

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