Legacy

BY : Rina76
Category: Final Fantasy Anime > Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children
Dragon prints: 1395
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: To get the full in-the-club effect of this fic, I'd recommend putting on some thumping tunes while you read! I listen to them while I write ^__^ It really helps.


***


Part 5.


Eager to get off this packed dance floor and away from other potential ass-grabbers, Loz puts his hand on the small of my back and steers me around, back to our seats at the bar which everyone has had the common sense to leave vacant for us. Having Loz as my bodyguard/boyfriend would come with a ton of perks and advantages such as this. I’d never again have to sit in a cinema with some ignorant person’s fat head blocking my view of the film because Loz would only have to snarl at them once and they’d move their butt to another chair so fast their popcorn would still be spinning in mid-air. Re-seated at the polished wood counter, we order our beverages of choice from the spiky-haired bartender (I get another dark purple one called Smack my Bitch Up) and Loz and I continue drinking and getting to know each other. I estimate that I’m up to my seventh or eighth cocktail for the evening which basically means I’m as drunk as someone of my size and stature should let themselves get. I’d better be very careful what I drink now and dilute all that alcohol with some plain water or juice otherwise I’ll be puking up my dinner in the potted palms and toppling over unconscious on the cigarette-strewn carpet, completely forgoing the chance to see Loz’s buffed body naked. Which ideally, I’d really like to do by the time this night is over.

Yes, I’m aware that I have sex on the brain but you can’t blame a girl for thinking this way. Loz is hotter than a bunch of jalapeńo chillies floating in a bowl of spicy sauce. But he’s completely unassuming and unpretentious about it. It’s like he doesn’t even KNOW that he’s hot.

I’ll show him, though. Sooner than he thinks.

Now that I’ve finally gotten him to crack a smile by comparing his non-dancing self to a stationary stripper’s pole, Loz lightens up a lot around me, his nervousness eased by the cheek-kiss I gave him, and when I start to mock the way other people are dressed and the ridiculous way some of them are dancing, he joins in, finding the human race just as fascinatingly lame as I do. As we pick on some unsuspecting specimen on the dance floor and joke about their deficient co-ordination skills or crotch-hugging yellow pants, Loz grins often, even gives a few deep chuckles that are a delight to hear. For someone whose first impression is that of humourless seriousness and solemnity, he’s actually a joy to be around, with a sarcastically juvenile wit that I can definitely appreciate since I grew up with housefuls of boys.

When we tire of criticising and judging, we turn our backs on the crowd and chat about random subjects, such as our interests and hobbies, what movies or music we like, and I soon discover that apart from us being similar ages – him 24 and me 23 –we have pretty much nothing else in common whatsoever. He likes violent action-based films while I dig science fiction/fantasy stuff. I love the colour purple in all its many shades, from lilac to aubergine, and he likes black and black. I like to read for relaxation and he enjoys punching a bag until the stuffing falls out. I hate driving and prefer to walk everywhere while he drag-races his bike down the freeway with anyone who’ll take him on. I listen to hypno-techno and electronica; he likes hardcore metal and death punk. I’m a vegetarian and love animals whereas he loves to eat them after they’ve been barbequed. I like sugar and he likes salt. He’s the total opposite to me but that’s what makes him so interesting; that he’s so different to what I am. Despite our dissimilarities, the conversation flows easily and he seems to be just as intrigued with me as I am with him.

Mid-song, the DJ in the booth announces the name of one of the strippers and introduces the beginning of her show, as has been happening every half-hour. I idly look up as a raven-haired chick called Ebony Rose saunters onto the main stage dressed like an air hostess, her cropped white blouse straining at the buttons over a pair of impossibly inflated breasts, each one approximately the size of a baby’s head.

“Holy shit,” I utter as she peels her shirt off to the encouraging cheers of money-waving men. “No way are those floatation devices real.”

Loz glances over at her, gives an indifferent grunt as she starts removing her bra and then looks away, focusing back on me. He’s really not interested in anyone else in the club and knowing that he’d rather look at me than a half-nude exotic dancer with enormous titties does wonderful things for my self-esteem and I reward him by letting my hand rest on his knee as we’re talking, feeling the warmth of his skin through the leathery membrane of his trousers. I can’t resist giving his thigh a quick squeeze, discovering it to be every bit as solid as I expected. Some guys might be uncomfortable with such overly familiar contact but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he even chances to touch me back, his larger hand hesitantly hovering over mine. He’s sweetly shy about it at first, like he’s unused to touching girls but when he sees that I’m not going to slap him across the face or yell about sexual harassment, he gains confidence, his fingertips grazing over the back of my wrist in light, repetitive circles. For such a mountain of a man he’s exceptionally gentle and it astounds me that he has such contrasting shades of light and shadow in his personality. One on side he’s a ruthless killer able to crush bones with a clench of his hand and on the other he can stroke as softly as a butterfly wing.

Incredible.

You know that hook that I’m reeling him in with? Kinda think that’s being reversed somehow. He’s hooking ME in now and he’s not even meaning to. When I came here tonight I was only supposed to find someone to get laid with but Gods, I could fall so hard for him. Possibly halfway there already, even though the ink is barely dry on my divorce certificate. I’m too merrily intoxicated to analyse what’s going on between Loz and I but whatever it is, I’m loving it. To be honest, I don’t want this night to end because it’s fast becoming the best one I’ve ever had. When Shandi first suggested going to a strip club I didn’t really want to go because I thought it’d suck and I’d have a terrible time but now I’m glad I came or else I wouldn’t have met the gorgeous, green-eyed guy whose knee I’m caressing right now. For that reason alone I ought to send my pushy roommate a huge bouquet of fresh flowers as a thank you gift. I just better not let Loz see them. Trying to drag his heavy carcass over to the lounge after he’s fainted dead away on my living room floor might be a difficult task for a small chick like me. It’s completely comical how a big, rough dude such as him can suffer from something as absurd as anthrophobia. Since I’m a florist, I’m just gonna have to tease him about it sometimes because, c’mon. That shit is funny!

After more frivolous chatting and a couple more drinks, my new flower-phobic friend and future bed-partner wipes his mouth with his sleeve and announces, “I gotta go take a pi-” Remembering that I’m a girl, he speedily revises, “Um...I mean, go to the bathroom. Excuse me for a minute.”

He stands up and hesitates, looking down at me with this adorably pleading face.

“Please be here when I get back, Cate. If you’re not, I’m gonna cry. I seriously will.”

I giggle, thinking he’s joking. “I’ll be waiting right here for you, handsome. Don’t take too long, okay? I’ll get lonely without you.”

He grins at me happily and then heads off to the restrooms. Again with the naughty thoughts, I watch his imposing rear view as he walks away; admiring the strong spread of his shoulders and back as well as that perfectly firm ass, all encased in sexy black biker gear. That empty gun holster belted around his left thigh only emphasises how thickly muscled it is. I haven’t failed to notice the buckled belts around each of Kadaj’s thighs as well but his legs, while lean and lithe, are nowhere near as manly and impressive as Loz’s. It’s like comparing saplings with tree trunks. Wondering where the creepy little fucker is I look around the room, not seeing Kadaj at any of the podiums or with any of the dancers. Maybe he’s getting another private performance downstairs. He must have a lot of money to waste because the services of those girls would be pricey and I’m sure they don’t give out freebies. Or maybe they might, for him anyway. He’s the smug kind of kid that knows his own attractiveness and would use it to charm the pants off anybody he chooses simply because he /can/. I hate people like that. They always get what they want just because they’re so unbelievably good-looking. Well, that arrogant act doesn’t work on me, let me tell you that right now.

Catching a flash of silver out of the corner of my eye, I glance down the other end of the bar to find not Kadaj but the other, longer haired brother standing there staring at me. Yazoo. That jolt runs right through my body again. I’m not sure if it’s fear, heightened physical awareness or a disturbing mix of both but it makes me sit up straighter in my seat and my pulse pound alarmingly in my veins. Like Loz, he’s tall too but very slender, although his arms are powerfully-built. I guess they’d have to be in order for him to handle that ginormous gun of his. His high-necked dress-coat has a main central zipper, located under the chest-straps, and it’s done all the way up to his chin. The coat falls down to his ankles, similar to a robe, and is divided with slits at the front and back for ease of movement. Under it, he wears the same trousers and calf-high boots as his brothers.

As I’m looking at him, he’s looking at me, his eyes somehow softer and prettier than Loz’s or Kadaj’s, even though they are exactly the same colour as theirs. He’s not staring at me in a hostile way, just in open inquisitiveness. He tilts his head curiously and his hair slithers over his shoulders, spilling down his back like liquid silk, the greyish hue appearing blue under the lights and making me wonder for the fiftieth time what it would be like to touch. As if he knows what I’m thinking, he smiles mysteriously and raises his wine glass to me in salutation, his leather-covered fingers curved elegantly around the stem of the goblet. Not knowing what else to do, I raise my glass and nod back, although I’m far too intimidated to smile at him. I keep picturing him aiming Velvet Nightmare at my face and calmly pulling the trigger.

Thankfully, his attention wanders, his gaze travelling onto the dance floor and away from me, allowing my heart to quit bouncing around in my ribcage like it’s trying to get out and make a dash on stumpy aorta legs for the closest door. I have a sip of my cocktail and peep surreptitiously down the bar at this stunning sniper, just making certain he’s not looking at me anymore. And he isn’t. He’s looking at something, or someone, on the other side of the room, his expression fixed and trancelike at the same time, as if whatever’s over there is the most enchanting thing he’s ever seen. When he blinks it seems in slow-motion. He looks dreamy, almost stoned. Probably is, for all I know. Intrigued by what he’s gazing at, I follow his line of sight and start to get alarmed again because I glimpse the younger, more frightening of the trio cutting through the horde of people and heading towards the bar, his silver hair gleaming like moonlight in the darkness.

Kadaj.

Just thinking his name in my head is like a whisper of menace and danger. He sees me too but I’m greatly relieved when he ignores my presence and strolls straight up to Yazoo, every carefully-placed footstep accompanied by a seductive roll of his hip, making an ordinary act like walking seem as though it’s foreplay. I’ve never seen a guy walk like that and as much as I want to look away, I simply cannot. He can’t be any more than seventeen, eighteen years old but he acts as though he owns the world and everything in it. Substantiating my theory, he boldly takes hold of Yazoo’s wine glass, plucking it right out of his older brother’s hand and draining the last of the claret liquid in a few thirsty gulps, head thrown back and pale throat working as he swallows. Yazoo lets him do it, watching as Kadaj licks the rim of the goblet in an evocative motion, in exactly the same spot where Yazoo was drinking from previously. Kadaj shoves the empty glass onto the counter top and leans in to say something, his lips just about touching Yazoo’s ear. They’re definitely touching his hair. Kadaj’s hand is resting on the taller male’s lower back and whatever he’s saying, it makes Yazoo chuckle amusedly.

Still smiling, Yazoo turns his face to murmur something back. Guess he’s not mute after all. He must have said something witty because Kadaj laughs out loud and it’s a surprisingly pleasant sound. I thought since he’s the brutal, cold-hearted leader of the pack he’d have an evil, chilling laugh but it’s not. It’s light and playful. Kadaj acts more relaxed and affectionate with Yazoo than he has with any of the ladies he’s been fraternising with, his boyish face lit with mischievous warmth as he gazes upon his black-coated brethren. Yazoo’s smile is just as warm, even a little teasing. It’s almost like they’re flirting with each other but that can’t possibly be true. First of all, they’re brothers. Second of all, Kadaj seems to like women too much. Third of all, I’m fairly convinced that weapon-toting, biker assassins with such magnetic sex-appeal wouldn’t be that desperate, not when either of them could have any person in the club who took their fancy, or even two or three of them at once. I’m probably just seeing everything they do with a suggestively perverted slant because, as Slutty Sara from the bathroom said, they’re so effin’ hot.

With all his effeminate androgyny Yazoo may very well be gay but I highly doubt that they’re gay for each other, though.

Yazoo speaks to his shorter sibling again and nearly instantly, Kadaj’s piercing aqua eyes flick over to where I’m seated and all ideas of them having an incestuous relationship are forgotten in an abrupt flood of fright. Having Kadaj look directly at me is like getting grabbed around the throat and my heart starts that trying-to-escape thing it was doing before. He stares at me for a little while I stare back, trying to work out if I should make a run for the nearest exit or if I’d be decapitated before I even got off the stool. His sword may have been left with the bouncers but I reckon he’s probably got a knife hidden on his person somewhere. And if he does, I don’t want it to end up being lodged in my windpipe. With the suspicious, almost angry, way he’s looking at me I feel like I’ve done something very wrong, even though I haven’t, to the best of my knowledge.

What the fuck is taking Loz so long? I wonder, desperately needing him here for my own protection. If he doesn’t show up in the next two minutes his demonic little brother is going to kill me! I know it’s insane but for some reason I’m dead certain Kadaj wants to wipe me off the face of the planet. Permanently.

Just as I’m about to pass out from hyperventilating he looks away, talking once again with Yazoo and disregarding me as though I don’t even exist. The relief I feel is immense and leaves me light-headed and slightly queasy. I turn back to the bar, letting out a long, tremulous lungful of air. I don’t know what it is about Kadaj or why I’m so irrationally afraid of him but in all honesty, I’m not sure if I want to find out. My gut instincts tell me to stay as far away from him as I can and hey, I’m not gonna argue with my gut because it’s rarely mistaken.

When my breathing is under control and has returned to semi-normal once more, I swivel around to see if Loz is coming back from the bathroom yet and my newly acquired breath is sucked out of me again in a sharp, startled hiss.

Because Kadaj is standing right next to me.

I curse to myself, my hand automatically going to my rapidly-thumping heart, trying to stop it from seizing up, much like it almost did back in the corridor.

“Stop DOING that, man!” I exclaim. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack materialising out of nowhere like that. Shit.”

He doesn’t apologise. He just gazes steadily at me with those cold crocodile eyes, eventually asking, “Are you interested in my brother?”

Thinking it’s a trick question, I reply warily, “Which one?”

He smiles in exaggerated patience. “The big one who was sitting next to you, of course. Do you like Loz?”

“Yeah. So what if I do?” I lift my chin obstinately, damned if I’m going to exhibit any weakness in front of him. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, it IS my business,” he states flatly. “Believe me.”

Starting to get prickly at his attitude, I inquire in a stiff tone, “Do you have an issue with me liking him?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re really interested in him or are just on the prowl. Are you going to date him or do you just want that gap between your legs filled with something hard and dumb?”

I almost gasp out loud. “I beg your pardon?”

“You see, my older brother is...shall we say...childishly naďve and emotionally immature. To put it simply and crudely, he’s all brawn; no brains. Among other things, he doesn’t quite grasp the concept of the one night stand. He believes that if someone sleeps with him it means more than what it actually does and inevitably gets disillusioned when he discovers that the other party has no intention of pursuing the relationship further than a torrid tumble between the sheets.”

Gods, he’s talky. It’s as though he loves to hear the sound of his own voice.

“I’ve seen it happen before,” he carries on, “and the resulting depression Loz spirals into is unbearable to witness. As the head of this family, I will not stand by and watch him be seduced and subsequently discarded by some short drunken whore who has a thing for big dicks.”

I gawp at him in insulted infuriation, wondering how he can dare to speak to me like this when he doesn’t even know who I am. Also, talking about Loz as if he’s a gigantic retarded kid? Not cool.

“I, however, DO grasp the concept of string-free sex so if it’s a good time you’re after I can assist you with that, my dear,” he purrs, unpredictably turning on the allure and making my pulse pound for a different reason. “There’s a bathroom down the hall for the disabled and it’s rather roomy and always empty. I can take you there right now if you wish. Most men, including my brother, are too stupid, selfish and sloppy to ever know how to really please a woman but once that door is locked after us I will show you the most enjoyable experience of your life.”

He steps closer to me. His softly swaying hair covers half of his face but doesn’t hide his bright green gaze, his pupils thinner and more slitted than Loz’s. As he steps nearer the scent of him fills my head, making me feel dizzy. He smells like pure sin. What’s really unsettling is that I don’t think he’s even wearing cologne.

“Let me ask you something,” he continues in that seductively purring tone. “Have you ever been so weak at the knees you couldn’t stand up?”

I can’t reply to that. My throat has gone too dry. I draw in another rapid breath when he touches my bare thigh, the heat of his hand scalding me even though the leather of his glove.

“That’s how you’ll feel when I kiss you,” he promises, fingers sliding higher along the side of my leg, giving me tingles right up to my hip. “Imagine how it will feel when my mouth is on your body. Imagine how it will feel when I am licking you. Tasting you.”

I stare up at him powerlessly, my blood pulsing so quick and fast in my veins that I can hear it in my head. His eyes are no longer cold but blazing, scorching, sucking me in and suffocating me with their fiery intensity. With a superhuman effort I break the visual contact, only to discover myself staring at his lips instead, watching them move as he speaks, thinking about exactly what I don’t want to think about.

“You might think you know what an orgasm is, but I can guarantee you’ve never had a real one until I have given it to you,” Kadaj murmurs silkily, gloved fingertips edging under the hem of my skirt and skimming the lace side-seam of my panties, causing unwanted warmth to rush into my lower belly.

“I can guarantee you’ve never screamed with pleasure the way you will when I am inside you. When I am fucking you, slowly and deeply. Would you like that, little Miss Chocolate-eyes? Would you like me to make you scream?”

I am unable to repress the shudder of both lust and terror that courses through me at that, and I momentarily shut my eyes, wishing he would go away and stop tormenting me with his obscenely tantalising words. Behind my closed eyelids I can sense him moving closer and when I look up in panic, he’s leaning in towards my mouth, tongue flicking quickly across his half-parted lips, like a taipan preparing to sink fangs into my flesh and inject me with poisonous toxins.

“No,” I whisper, pressing my open palm against his hard, flat chest to keep him at bay. He blinks in surprise.

“No?”

“No!” I repeat in a stronger, louder tone, shoving his hand out from under my skirt and off my thigh. My pulse is still pounding two heartbeats away from a coronary but I’m using the adrenaline rush to my advantage, using it to defend myself and bring out some helpful aggression.

“Not interested, you slimy son of a bitch,” I growl. “Loz can touch me. You can’t. So just back the fuck off, all right?”

He takes a step in reverse, appearing bewildered, as though this has never happened to him before. I use his uncertain hesitation to further assert my stance on the situation.

“I like Loz. A lot,” I emphasise furiously. “He’s funny and honest and unlike you, has no clue of how attractive he really is. That, Kadaj, makes him even more attractive than you.” My lips twist in a mirthless smile. “Shocking, huh?”

Seeming to recover his composure after a few moments he replies mildly, “All right. Have it your way. But you should know this - I can do pain just as well as I can do pleasure.”

Here his voice turns as chilly and sinister as his eyes have become once again.

“Make my brother cry and guess which one you’ll be feeling.”

With that final warning he turns on his boot-heel and stalks away, his walk much angrier and stiffer than the sensual strolling he was doing before. His leather-clad figure shoves into the swarm of people within the room and vanishes like black smoke. I’m so relieved by his departure that I almost slip off my stool and I have to grip the edge of the bar bench with both white-knuckled hands to stop myself from doing just that.

“Shit,” I whimper to myself. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I eventually pry my frozen fingers off the counter and take a much-needed gulp of my half-melted cocktail. When I put the glass back down I can see that my hand is shaking. Badly. I didn’t want to show it in front of him but I’ll be direct and admit it to myself. Being confronted by Kadaj was the most terrifying moment of my life so far. I’ve never been that petrified before but I can’t decide what scared me more; him touching me or the fact that I might have wanted him to.

I can’t believe he went from interrogating me, to insulting me, to threatening me, to seducing me and then back to threatening me, all in the space of less than five minutes and my head is still spinning from the abrupt changes in his character. Is he bipolar or does he have multiple personality disorder or what? Either way, there’s definitely something wrong with him. Very wrong.

All of a sudden, a dark figure appears in my peripheral view and I jumpily look up to find that Yazoo has also decided to grace me with an unsolicited visit.

“Great. You too?” I grit out irritably, getting really fed up with this bullying brother crap. “What the hell is this - ‘Pick on Cate Day’?”

“I am not here to upset you. I see Kadaj has already done that,” he remarks, the quality of his voice both mellow and melodious. “Are you all right? Cate, did you say?”

“Yeah. Cate. And I’m just fine. I get threatened all the time,” I retort sardonically.

“I do sincerely apologise for whatever my little brother said to you. I can assure you that it’s nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal? You didn’t hear the things that came out of his filthy mouth. What’s his motherfucking problem?” I explode in fury.

“His problem? Oh, there’s more than just one.” A tiny smirk touches his gorgeously full lips, not affected by my unladylike cursing. “The one I believe you’re referring to, though, is his savage suspicion of anyone not directly related to us. He’s younger than both Loz and I but sometimes, Kadaj tends to think that he’s our father.”

“Boy, do I feel sorry for you,” I mutter but Yazoo doesn’t react to my sourness. I get the impression he doesn’t react to a lot of things, unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“Beneath his imposing size and strength, Loz is somewhat...sensitive,” Yazoo explains delicately. “He feels everything more intensely than most people, and this is both his best and worst trait. Kadaj is just concerned for his welfare. That’s all.”

“I don’t know what he believes I’m going to do to Loz but he couldn’t be more wrong. In spite of what my roommate suggested I wear tonight, I’m not like them.” I gesture to the other females in the club, particularly the ones swinging around oiled poles and shoving their surgically-enhanced tits in everyone’s faces.

“I’m not a slut, okay?”

“I never said you were,” Yazoo rationally points out. “I know you’re not associated with the women working here because if that was the case you would have taken my brother into one of those booths and divested him of all his money by now.”

Wow, someone who /doesn’t/ think I’m a stripper or a whore. What a shocker.

“I have no issue with you and Loz getting to know each other,” the angel-faced assassin continues. “He’s having a great deal of fun and that doesn’t normally happen unless he’s hitting somebody or destroying other people’s property. Outside of a fight, I can’t recall seeing him this animated and lively for a long, long time. Perhaps never.”

Yazoo gazes out over the crowded club for a short, pondering while, his profile sharp and striking, softened by the silken lengths of silvery hair curtaining either side of his face, shorter bangs falling across one eye.

“Personally, Cate, I think you may be very good for him.”

“What about Kadaj?” I challenge. “He doesn’t think that.”

“Forget what Kadaj told you,” he advises, facing me again. “I want my older brother to be happy and if you’re the one who can achieve that then you have my full blessing. Be with him, Cate. Give him a little happiness.” Yazoo sighs wistfully. “The poor boy hasn’t had much of that, you know.”

Grudgingly, I confess, “Gotta admit, Yazoo, you’re a lot nicer than I thought you were going to be. I figured you for a cold, impassive bitch, actually.”

“Oh, I CAN be that. But I can also be nice, when I choose to.” He leans closer to me and I catch the faint, exotically sweet perfume of night-blooming waterlilies.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” he murmurs confidentially. “It would completely ruin my bad-ass reputation.”

I find my eyebrows rising at his unexpectedly humorous remark and he briefly smiles at me before sweeping away in a swirl of silver, white and black, melting into the crowd and disappearing again.

As civil and pleasant as Yazoo was just then, I’m betting he’d be every bit as vengeful as Kadaj if I caused Loz any heartache and wouldn’t hesitate to make me pay dearly for it. It probably takes a lot to make him snap but when he does, may the Gods help you.

Experiencing the deadly wrath of two pissed off brothers and their respective weapons? Not something I want to happen to me in this lifetime. But it won’t. Like I mentioned, I’m not that kind of girl. I wouldn’t do anything that might intentionally hurt Loz.

I’d never hurt anyone I really liked.

Or was falling in love with...

***


You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story