Mako Reactor

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.



Kisaragi insisted upon her turn for portrait session. I sat her down. “Where’s your shuriken?” I asked.

“Right here.” She dragged the pointed star over, plunging a point into the chair right between her knees without even looking.

I hid a smile. This gangly, engaging girl would one day drive a man so crazy he’d make the front page. I picked up my pencil. “What’s your favorite ice cream?” She was so sweet.

“Oohh,” she said, her eyes growing bright and wide. “That’s a tough one. I like ice cream that tastes like berries, or vanilla.”

“So,” I said, making a few, quick lines to capture her tilt. “A vanilla-blueberry would be nice?”

“I’ve never had it,” she said solemnly. “But, I’ll try it the next time I get a chance. I was thinking more like raspberry-vanilla.”

I had to admit that sounded good. I could probably stomach some ice cream. Too bad we sat leagues away from any civilization.

“What do you like, Jo?”

I looked up from the page. “Chocolate. The darker the better.”

She nodded. “I figured,” she sighed. “Men seem to like chocolate…or coffee.”

“Coffee ice cream is delightful,” I informed. “Imagine all the flavor without any of the bitter, then add sugar and cream. Now, freeze it.”

“I wish you two would stop it with the ice cream,” Strife groaned. He and Barret played cards on a nearby table.

“Yeah,” Lockhart chimed in, holding her stomach. “Talk about something gross now; get my mind off of it.”

“Sex is gross,” Kisaragi replied promptly.

“It ain’t gross,” Highwind said, stubbing out a smoke and reaching for another one. “You’ll like it someday, kid.”

“Don’t even talk that way!” Kisaragi shivered.

I promptly captured that look too, adding it to the corner. She was a delight to draw.

“I mean honestly,” she went on. “All that chasing and angsting, and break-up and make-up and all for what? Kids! And the kids are always ungrateful, thankless little shits!”

Valentine laughed.

Everyone in the room paused to listen, faces slack with astonishment. His baritone voice made a laugh rich and powerful and utterly, utterly sexy. I flipped my page and captured the looks swiftly, from Valentine all the way to Highwind. Now that I had that in my memory, I could go back and finish later. Smiling, I went back to Kisaragi.

“Vincent,” Tifa said. “You laughed.”

“It was funny, what she said.” Valentine made a little motion with his shoulders that I couldn’t quite call a shrug. “And, so true I could also weep.”

“Now, it isn’t always like that,” Lockhart said, holding up her hand. “Sometimes it’s romantic and cute and kind and wonderful. And, sometimes the kids are alright too.”

“When?” Kisaragi put her hands on her hips. Delighted, I sketched that pose in the bottom right corner. “When it is like that? All I’ve ever seen is how it ruins people.”

“My parents were happy,” Strife said. “I didn’t turn out to be an ungrateful little shit.”

“You broke your mother’s heart and you know it!” Kisaragi jumped up on her chair, as if adding height added stature. “Cloud Strife, nobody wants to find out their son is gay!”

I would not go in the fact that Cloud was attracted to both sexes. Nor would I go into his status as a clone. His happy family memories were someone else’s. Still, why not let him have them?

Strife blew out an exasperated breath, which I captured. “We talked about this yesterday, Yuffie,” he said. “I’m not gay. I’m bisexual. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, greed.” Kisaragi stuck her hip out, cocking her head in the opposite direction. “It’s just greed.”

I drew that pose, still smiling.

“Now don’t get yer panties in a twist,” Highwind said, blowing a smoke ring. “You don’t know what you like yet, so you ain’t no fucking expert.” He took a big swig from his whisky bottle, which he’d appropriated from one of the officer’s rooms. “Took me a long goddamn time to figure out what I liked and what I didn’t. I can damn sure bet most shittin’ people are like that.”

It was the most I’d ever heard him say and I noticed he really enjoyed colorful vernacular.

These people were the best subject matter for sketching, ever. Every one of them had a beautiful, fatal flaw on full and glorious display.

“It isn’t greedy to like both,” Strife said firmly. “Granted, you have more of a chance getting a date, but there you are.” He played his hand with Barret and promptly lost. “Damn it. I was winning until we started this conversation.”

“You was not, Spike,” Barret replied.

I laughed helplessly as I drew the exchange.

“What’s so funny?” Kisaragi asked, but not in a mean way, in genuine interest.

“We are,” I said, pointing around the room with my pencil. “One,” I pointed at Strife. “We have a philosopher. I next pointed at Barret. “Two, we have a practical man. Three,” I waved at Highwind, “we’ve got our capable man.”

I pointed to myself. “Four, mad scientist. Five, you, Miss Kisaragi, a talented survivor. Six, the resident killer.” Valentine just stared at me. “And finally, last but not least, lucky number seven, a pugilist who ties us all in together. Without her, nothing would get accomplished.” I threw my sketch pad down, unable to bear the thought of more drawing. It felt very intense to immerse myself in all this wonderful wrongness.

They all looked at me.

“What?” I said. “Am I not right?”

Lockhart met my eyes. “I can’t believe you think I run things.”

“Strife runs things, Miss Lockhart, and you run Strife.”

Valentine laughed again. “What about me, Hojo?” he asked. “Resident killer?”

“You are really good at killing,” Kisaragi piped up.

A chorus of voices agreed softly.

“Fine,” Valentine shot back. “And Barett? A practical man?”

“He’s a resistance fighter with a gun grafted onto his arm,” I pointed out. “What’s more practical?”

“Okay,” Highwind ground out through his cigarette. “What the hell makes me the capable man?”

“You can pilot anything with wheels or wings, can’t you?”

“Yeah.” Highwind didn’t say it with arrogance, just matter-of-fact answering.

“That doesn’t qualify you?”

“Maybe.” He sat down. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“I notice no one’s challenged my status as the group philosopher,” Strife muttered.

**************************************************************************************

“You like dark chocolate.”

I shivered. Valentine’s lips hovered right behind my left ear. His breath stirred every hair on my neck. My heart beat a slow, hard rhythm.

“You like dark chocolate and the resident killer,” he continued. His body shifted ever so slightly toward mine. I felt a few, bent-back straps on his tunic dragging against my shoulder blades. His cloak, moved by a slight breeze, drifted forward and curled against my legs.

“Not going to deny it?” He grabbed my collar and ripped it like tissue paper, exposing the bite just underneath.

Oh good. I had a feeling being taken from behind could be my favorite.

“You’re always so goddamn chatty. What happened?” His teeth grazed my shoulder, moving ever onward toward my neck.

Three days. Three days since the last feeding. He’d lasted longer than I thought possible. I estimated another two days before he’d need mako again. I prayed we would reach the Shin-Ra Experimental Lab before he went critical.

“If I thought I could hurt you, Hojo, I would,” he confessed, taking his teeth off me. “But, nothing moves you off course. You like it when I beat you. You like it when I hurt you. You even like it when I feed from you.”

I pulled in a surprised breath, feeling his hands come to rest on my waist.

“You weren’t always so appreciative of my beauty.”

He toyed with me, knowing his touch made my senses run riot. I wished for a purer reason to feel him, but I would take this over nothing.

“You don’t have the guts,” I said, turning in his grip and staring up into his face. “Put up or shut up, Turk.”

“A dare?” He smirked. “That’s so childish.”

“I’m in my…” I checked my watch. “My fourth childhood,” I finished. “Indulge me.”

Valentine’s smirk softened. “I have to give you credit, geek,” he answered. “You’re an indomitable pipsqueak.” He stepped back a little, folding his arms. “Fine. What’s your dare? You want me to fuck you, Hojo?”

“Now?” I cast an exaggerated look around. “While we do sentry duty?”

“Convenient.” Valentine walked around me slowly. “I think you’re afraid.”

“Afraid of your cock, beautiful?” I asked. “Alright, yes; I’m afraid of your cock.”

He chuckled. “You take nothing seriously, absolutely nothing. You’re mad.”

“If you can kiss me, Valentine, you can fuck me.” I advanced, coming up almost flush to his body. “Go ahead and prove incapable of either. I’ll give you five minutes to work up to it before calling it a failed experiment.”

“I have no desire to kiss you, Hojo. I have no idea where that mouth has been.”

“Cock washes off the same as pussy.” I slicked my bangs away from my forehead. “Interestingly, I’ve never sucked a cock.”

He regarded me. “You’re a liar,” he claimed.

“Yes, I’m all about lies, aren’t I? Have I ever lied to you?”

“How would I know? You’re the most irrepressible villain, ever. Your son had nothing on you.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

“Be serious for three minutes.”

“Three minutes is all you have left to kiss me.”

“I’m not kissing you.” He turned away. “Call me a coward if you want; I don’t care.”

“Vincent Valentine,” I announced. “Bully, jock, Turk, coward.”

He rounded on me. “You have no idea what it’s like to be me, even if you helped make me,” he vowed.

“You were three-quarters a killer before you ever stepped foot in Shin-Ra,” I said softly. “You’ve got monster in your soul, Valentine, or the demons wouldn’t have stayed.” I put my hand out and touched his cheek, seeing how his surprise stopped a flinch. “Haven’t you ever thought about it?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “An ordinary man can’t host a single demon. The demon overpowers him in a short time. You’ve been hosting four demons for over thirty five years.”

“They need me,” he defended quietly.

“What demon needs a willing host, but a demon who knows his host can kick him out?”

Valentine blinked. Slowly, he drew away from me. “Damn you,” he whispered. “I can’t get a grip on you, you slippery little beast.”

“I’m very simple. You want to know what makes me tick? What makes me hurt?”

‘Share your personal insight, please.” Valentine closed his eyes, looking weary. “You’re just crazy enough to reveal all.”

“Drink from me first.”

His eyes snapped open. “The last time I drank from you, you raped me again with my own cock.”

“I didn’t rape you. I liberated you. You can’t bear the thought of a man stimulating you. It makes your jock libido question, and you can’t have that.” I tilted my head up. “Now, kiss me before the experiment’s over.”

“Make up your mind.”

“Fine. If I have to pick, I want the kiss.”

Of course, he went contrary to what I wanted. I couldn’t blame him.

He spun me, biting into his rear-entry mark.

I wasted no time. As soon as the pleasure feedback began, I spread my hands over his hips, pulling myself backward against him. Growl or purr, I couldn’t tell, but his noise thrilled me to my soul. Hardening, I pulled again, hitting his responding erection.

He wrapped an arm around me, crushing me close. Barely able to breathe now, I slid my hand over his bulging crotch. The roaring in my head synchronized with the blood drain. I palmed him, gently, savoring the feel of leather containing straining cock. He felt more than alive, vital, even like the animal I claimed.

I needed that vitality. To have it in the form of Vincent Valentine certainly did complicate matters.

Beautiful, fucking Turk. He could put all the leather and velvet he wanted on that body, but he couldn’t disguise himself, not to me. I knew what lurked in his soul. I knew darkness licked at his synapses, distilled his guilty pain into the purest cravings. And, while he fed from me, while he harmed me, he could have all his guilt and gratification at once.

I needed gratification too. Having committed myself to seducing a man who couldn’t admit he liked men, I’d have to force that indulgence.

I pulled on the leather ties of his pants, getting them loose. He tensed, fear of his own enjoyment overpowering the need for blood. I felt his stomach coiling and flexing against my back, felt the conflict between body and brain.

“I do sympathize with you,” I whispered. “It’s hard to want what you fear or despise.”

His grip loosened. I shoved backward. “Don’t let go of me, coward,” I demanded.

“I don’t want,” he began, but I cut him off, twisting in his grip and taking his cloak front in both hands.

“Liar,” I growled. “You do want. You want badly.”

I backed him up, enraged and aroused and hurting. “You’re so into denying yourself, Valentine. It wouldn’t matter if I was my own, dead wife come back for a piece of you. You’d deny her, too, at this point, wouldn’t you?” I pushed him up against the retaining wall, pinning him with my body, watching his eyes grow. “Denial makes you feel better. It’s the punishment that hurts no one but yourself.”

He turned his head from me, closing his eyes. “You’re made of poison,” he whispered. “You just keep leaking it into me.” Hand and claw gouged the stone behind him. “Poison,” he repeated, “and, I get weaker every time you taint me with it.”

That confession didn’t make me feel as good as I thought it would. Still, I had to consider it a step forward. I felt much of my anger toward him draining. “What really hurts you, Valentine, is that I can see you when no one else can,” I told him softly. “You can’t beat that out of me.”

As I spoke, I returned to the ties at his pants. “I don’t know any more about this than you do,” I admitted. “I’d never touched a man before, either. For you, I can get into it.”

He groaned, throwing his head back. Masonry rubble pelted the ground as he tore it from the wall.

I freed his lovely, thick cock, watching it throb. His large, circumcised head wept a pearly tear, inviting me to taste, to lick it away. “Have you ever even had a blowjob, Valentine?” I asked, cupping his heavy balls. “You haven’t, have you? It gave your partner too much power.”

“Goddamn it,” he said, his voice weak. “Hojo, shut up. You never fucking shut up.” He stared up at the moonless night, his strong, graceful neck bulging with veins and cords. A blur of movement and his metal hand gripped the back of my head. “You know so much about it, you bastard, then you fix me.”

He forced me to my knees, his claws digging into my scalp. “Blow me,” he commanded. “You can’t goddamn talk with your mouth full of cock.”

“That’s the spirit, jock.” His surrender made my balls swell. I opened my mouth and took him in deep.

He shuddered, hissed as I gently clamped down and sucked. I forced him in until I gagged, but I didn’t let go for a moment. He tasted good. All the scents I smelled on him were concentrated here, and musky. I filled with the desire to please him.

Thinking of what I liked, I sucked him to a rhythm. Pull and push, push and pull, coaxing relentlessly. An animal whine escaped him as I swirled my tongue over his veins, tapping the underside of his head. I reached up and cupped his heavy sac from underneath, rolling him in my palm.

I felt a trickle of blood running down my face, brought up from a sharp claw. It worked past my lips and over his straining cock, filling my mouth with the blend of copper and pre-cum. So hard I could weep, I lifted a finger up and caught blood and saliva.

Carefully, I reached past his balls and inserted that slick finger into him, seeking his prostate. I found it, rubbed against it as I sucked him.

Valentine howled. His knees locked. Another river of blood made its slow journey down my temple. I looked at him as best I could, my cock jerking at the sight of him over me. Beautiful, deadly, a divine beast in delicious torment. I pumped his tight little hole while I swallowed him down.

He was so far gone he let me touch him. I caressed his legs one by one, admiring the strength in those muscled thighs. I reached higher, gripping his base. Now I could suck and handle him from tip to root. I shook with the effort to go slowly, and then cursed myself for the presumption.

This was about him, too.

I grabbed his hand, placing it with the other and pushing down. He understood and responded swiftly, eager now to have what I gave. My head in his hands, he moved me over him, his deep baritone voice an incoherent snarling.

It was easy to let him have control, easy and blistering. I grabbed myself and pumped, undone by lust. I’d never felt anything as hot as this. He was strong enough to crush my head, strong enough to fuck my face like I weighed nothing. I loved it and I wanted more.

He gasped, feeling my phantom hand uniting with my mouth. I twisted, bumping his prostate again and again, sensing just a ghost pressure inside myself. I couldn’t wait until I got him to fuck me.

The pleasure damning up needed releasing. I sped, tightening the grip on myself. Come, you beautiful creature, I thought, wishing he could hear me. I wanted him to erupt. I wanted his mind blown, flung to the heavens with the draining of his swollen balls.

He locked onto me, howling and sobbing and growling. I relaxed, coming with him. We jerked in our primitive embrace. His hot semen shot down my throat and I swallowed, cupping him so I could feel each, desperate spasm.

Valentine slid down the wall, gasping for air, hands still gripping my head.

I cleaned him, sucking every last, precious drop of his come as slowly as possible. Moaning, he tried to let go of me.

His claws were slightly stuck in my skull. I released him to laugh. Reaching up, I rid my head bone of his sharp embrace. “You survived,” I said. “Aren’t you surprised?”

His eyelids fluttered as sleep tried to drag him down. In seconds he’d fallen under. I didn’t find that odd. A good orgasm could ruin anyone, and he still struggled with mako depletion.

I wrestled his pants back on and tied them. Carefully, I sat him straighter against the wall and then settled right beside him. He’d move away as soon as he awoke.

Right now I’d be content with this.