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Control	By : drakonlily Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 722 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A/N: This is for Cendrillo’s P0rn0th0n. She requested a Reno/Sephiroth, with the line: “There were worse things than pretty boys who thought they owned the world. There were those that thought they had to annihilate the world.” So here it is, starting a P0rn0th0n. My dragon mother would be proud.

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Oneshot by Drakonlily:

Dedicated to Cendrillo Armadillo

There were worse things than pretty boys who thought they owned the world. There were those that thought they had to annihilate the world. And he had thought that. It was no small shock then, when Sephiroth awoke to not only a clear day but life itself.
Life, as it would have it, was in a hospital. Funny, he’d never been sick a day in his life before. The blinding pain was enough to prompt him to lie back to his bed. He snarled, half asleep and hair matted to his head. Nothing short of undignified about the situation and very little he could do about it.

oOo
When he awoke again, he would not be left to a nurse staff. He’d had plenty with needles in his childhood. With a forceful push, Sephiroth leapt from the sickbed and immediately buckled under his own weight. Quick reflexes saved him from sprawling out on a cold, hard floor.
Ignoring the way that his arms shook, Sephiroth tottered to the doorway, eyes casting about for a shirt and his sword. Neither was readily available and this rankled him even more. How dare these incompetent mortals keep him here and in such a state? When he rounded a corner, there was someone looking right at him.
Blond hair fell into blue eyes. They were narrowed at him, that face wasn’t supposed to be so firm and sure of itself. Sephiroth’s own eyes narrowed, but he didn’t hear his voice prompting him to move.
He didn’t feel HER…
Staggering back behind the hallway, the Great General Sephiroth made a quick retreat, he’d regroup later. But for once in what felt like his entire lifetime, he was on his own. The idea didn’t make him as comfortable as he had hoped it would.
And thus started Sephiroth’s wandering. He learned rather quickly that Jenova had left him. More that she had not survived, he’d told himself. He was the strength of their relationship. She was simply his guidance.
And that was the only reason that the Great General Sephiroth was sitting alone in an underground fight club. His former respect was maintained for the most part. People treated him as they should, with a wide breadth and spoke only when spoken to. Dark places like this had no shortage of people willing to buy him a drink or bask in his glory.
It was rather like he had been before Jenova. He was feeling restless, bored. There was no worthy challenge in the people about them. There was nothing to dominate, nothing to overpower. Women were nothing more than a passing distraction at best, chattering nuisances at worst. Though they learned early on that he did not tolerate chatter.
He needed a challenge, something to break. Something that didn’t want him to break it. A smile crept on his face as he took a long drink. Yes, something that didn’t want to give in was always the most rewarding when it gave in. It was the look of defeat in their eyes after they gave in and he walked away that he liked most. The look of someone that had caved to needing him was a driving force of his. It never took long enough to break them, they always were left behind him, broken and ready if he should feel the need to return. Though he never did. Sephiroth was not going to waste his time on something that allowed his conquest. It was not a suitable companion.
The word reached his ears on a whisper. It was the reverence that caught his attention. It was the fear. Turk.
No one paid attention as Sephiroth slammed the glass on the table. They were all craning their necks to get a look at the fight cage. Without making his perusal as obvious, Sephiroth lifted his eyes to the center of the bar.
Even if he hadn’t had impeccable vision, he wouldn’t have missed the Turk. His hair blazed a violent shade of red from over hard blue eyes. They’d never met in ShinRa, though he’d certainly heard a great deal about this Turk.
Impossible to control, he’d been told, a live wire, something of a Vincent Valentine, though far too young and lazy. Sephiroth thought again, impossible to control…
He wasn’t a Turk for nothing. His opponent wasn’t a ShinRa, he’d been running afraid and the Turk knew the fight was over before it started. He’d finished it quickly, too quickly for the crowd. They all snarled at him when he walked out of the cage, opponent still breathing.
No one did anything to stop him though; he muttered under his breath, Sephiroth could read the phrase “too pathetic to be worth killing” as it rolled off his lips. A predatory smile formed on his own as he watched the red head sit at the bar.
He didn’t make any move; instead he wanted to watch his new toy for a while. Sephiroth never paid for his drinks at this club, the staff was afraid of him. He paid the pretty blonde woman no mind as she exchanged his glass.
He was focused on other matters.
The club filtered out, last call echoed in the speaker system. Still, the bar was nearly empty before the red head tossed out gil on the bar. He cast a look at Sephiroth over his shoulder, blue eyes narrowed and then, he flipped his middle finger up at the Great General before walking out of the bar like he owned the place.
Sephiroth refused to give into the shock that momentarily passed his eyes. He focused instead, on anger. How dare that little street rat flip him off and then strut out like that in HIS bar. He’d have to teach the red head a few things about control.
Cigarette smoke filtered over his head as he walked down the back alleyway. The view, Sephiroth admitted, wasn’t bad. Maybe he’d keep this Turk around a while after he broke him. Longer than a few weeks at least.
Remembering that the red head knew when he was being watched, Sephiroth was more careful this time, he wanted to surprise his new toy, get him off his guard. The red head wasn’t as large as most Turks. Not as tall as Sephiroth or broad, he was still a Turk, though that suited him perfectly well. New toys were no fun if you couldn’t be rough with them.
Three times the red head looked over his shoulder. Three times all he could see was the empty alley behind him. Confusion came then, bright blue eyes darted around though he seemed to know he wouldn’t find something.
It was delightful to watch. A red eyebrow would arch, the scar on the side of his face sat up a bit, and his smirk would just fade, barely. Then he would turn and continue on his way.
Sephiroth followed closer when a crowd from the next bar filed out into the street. He sped up past his prey, enjoying the look of comfort at populated surroundings. Now would be the perfect time.
Reaching out, Sephiroth’s hand covered the Turk’s wrist. Yanking back and ducking, Sephiroth missed the fist from his prey’s free hand as it flew just over his head. Using his own momentum against him, Sephiroth flung the red head face first into the wall. A short struggle later, both of the Turks wrists where above his head. His forearms rubbed against the brick wall, bent elbows were all that saved his nose the same rough treatment.
Those arms shook with the effort of pressing against the larger Sephiroth. He didn’t have very far to go at any rate, the other man’s chest was against his back, breath hot on the side of his neck.
The Turk snarled and shook his head. His face wasn’t visible to Sephiroth at this angle, but fear was something that could be felt. Barely there, an undercurrent, tapered by anger. He moved his nose along the Turk’s neck, as though the fear he sought was some form of perfume. When the other man shivered he chuckled darkly.
The Turk shook his head violently again, giving Sephiroth time to pin his wrists in one hand. Now that he had some freedom, he gripped a fistful of that red hair and forced his prey to quiet its movement.
It was then that he heard it. Low, rumbling in the Turk’s chest, was a growling sound. Now this was wonderful, even now he was defying the inevitable. Gently at first, Sephiroth’s mouth looked for that place on the Turk’s neck that had earned a shiver. He found it, though now that the shock of his predicament had settled, Sephiroth’s red head was not as easily made to respond.
A sharp, second long intake of breath was his only notification. Sephiroth laughed then, he’d found a weak spot and he intended on taking full advantage of it. Letting go of red hair, he bit down into that spot, drawing blood.
The Turk’s back arched then, he gasped, not noticing as Sephiroth’s hand slid down his stomach and past a loose pants line. He made another snarling sound, though he didn’t pull away. Even if he’d attempted it, he couldn’t have moved far.
The response from the Turk seemed to shock them both to an extent. Sephiroth let up on the red head’s shoulder, “I thought you’d fight more than this.” He taunted.
The red head laughed- a short sound. “What if I didn’t want to quite yet?” Before a witty comeback could make its way out of his mouth, Sephiroth found himself on his back. This Turk was FAST, he barely registered the heel swipe, and he could hear the gun safety click at the same moment the barrel pressed against his forehead.
The red head smirked at Sephiroth from where he sat, straddling the General’s waist. One of his hands rested on Sephiroth’s chest. “But if you aren’t going to play nice, then you’re going to have to play by yourself.”
“Just who the hell do YOU think you are, street rat?” Sephiroth was nearly shaking with indignation. This was NOT how his night was supposed to go.
“Name’s Reno.” The red head- Reno – responded with a smirk. “Be a good boy, put yer hands above yer head.”
“WHAT?” Sephiroth snarled, almost sitting up but when the hammer came back on the death penalty he rethought the situation.
“I don’t think that I stutter.” Reno smirked, with a quick yank, Sephiroth’s belt came free of his pants.
The growl of defiance was now rumbling in HIS chest, but Sephiroth complied. Once he was secure against an outside water piping he glared up at his would be toy. “Now what, Turk?”
Reno tucked the death penalty away and lit a cigarette. “I told ya my name is Reno, Sephiroth.” He thought a moment and puffed on his smoked, still perched on top of the Great General. The gods had best help anyone who saw this humiliation.
He obviously wasn’t going to move until he was addressed by name, the irritating bastard. “Fine, now what, Reno?”
“Well I had some ideas, but you’re being a little shit, so I’ll just find you some other time.” With that he stood up and readjusted himself in his pants.
“You can’t leave me like this. When I get a hold of you, you are going to regret the day you were born.” Sephiroth responded in a deathly calm.
“See, still being a little shit. You’re a strong man, just yank the pipe out, better hope it ain’t a sewage pipe. Anyway, I’ll be back at the club on Thursday, if ya think you can behave.”
Sephiroth hadn’t thought about the pipe being a sewage pipe. Thursday it would have to be then. He wouldn’t be underestimating Reno again.

~fin
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