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.




“I tell you, I’m not allowed to reveal who’s on the guest list.” The young clerk backed away from Valentine, who loomed over him like a hot, black shadow. “And I can’t do anything about only having one room left.”

I stepped up, leaning over the counter to meet his eyes. Summoning Jenova’s power, I let my gaze pin him to the spot. “Let me see the guest registry,” I demanded quietly.

The boy slid the book over without another word.

I ran my finger down the line of names, spotting the name Spike Nimbus. A bit further down I read the name Sidoni Sky. Sliding the book back, I took up the keys and paid the gangly youth.

“They’re already here,” I told Valentine as we mounted the stairs.

“Why did he obey you?” Valentine asked, taking his key from me.

“It isn’t hard to induce hypnotic compliance in public servants,” I answered, seeking our room out of rows of doors. “They’re already underpaid and undervalued; a little persuasion goes a long way.”

“Hypnotic compliance,” Valentine repeated.

“It doesn’t work on you, don’t worry.” Hell, if I could hypnotize him would I have physically wrestled him to fuck him? Stupid jock.

We found our room. He opened it up and we entered. I noticed he looked around the same way I did, with suspicion. I dropped my pack and dug out my last clean set of clothes. “I have to shower.”

I felt his eyes upon my back as I left the room.

Holy fucking Ifrit, hot water had never felt so good. I rarely appreciated such simple things as bathing, not in the old days. Now, having endured random encounters of cleanliness, I loved a good, hot shower.

I didn’t know if Valentine would clean up or not. He didn’t sweat per se, but he did have moist pores. Rain would have only made his clothing shrink. He’d probably keep it on so it didn’t shrink. He needed to wash his fucking hair, I knew that. Still, I found the messy, matting spikes on top of his head rather attractive.

I’d love to have him in this shower with me.

I washed my clothes out and put them over the radiator. My others proved wet as well. I hung them up and knotted a towel around my waist. The inn provided a razor, so went to the trouble of shaving, carefully avoiding staring into my reflection’s eyes. I didn’t want to know how I looked inside. Fatigue, sadness and desire couldn’t be a good combination.

The cocaine seemed to be wearing off. Good. I’d sleep. I needed to sleep. Even Valentine needed it.

I returned to the main room and sought the phone directory, not looking at my dark companion. After a moment of searching I found the number for BioTech, the independent lab in this settlement. Many, many years ago I’d developed a friendly relationship with their owner, Warren Kindle. I’d used his facilities to store a small cache from my lab, a back-up in case something happened to my own.

Warren would not sell me out to Shin-Ra. He loathed Shin-Ra, even that I worked for them.

“Let me speak to Mr. Kindle,” I asked, wondering why reception desk voices were all the same.

“Who may I say is calling, sir?”

“Mr. Kandle.”

A private joke between us. My name was Kanaye, but Kindle and Kandle went so well together.

The phone picked up. “Kandle?” Warren greeted cautiously.

“Hello,” I replied. “You know that time I always worried would come? It came. I need quarter-crate number five.”

“I thought you’d be calling me,” Warren said in a warm voice. “I heard about what happened.”

“Too tired to even talk about it.”

“I imagine.” Warren chuckled. “Where do you want me to send it? I have a boy I can trust.”

“Send it to Annie’s Bar and I’ll pick it up there in an hour.” My clothes would be dry by then. “How’ve you been, Kindle?”

“Same as I ever was. You?”

“I snapped out of my mania.”

“Really? What caused that?”

“I can’t tell you because I have no idea.”

Kindle snorted. “Some scientist you are.”

“Too close to the problem to see it, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t know of what you speak.” Kindle chuckled. “It’ll be at the bar in an hour. Come by and see me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll have time. If I do, I will.”

“Good enough. Nice hearing from you, Kandle.”

We hung up together.

“You should tell Cloud what you’re doing,” Valentine said quietly, “even if you won’t tell me.”

“I talked to him about it a week ago,” I told him, sitting on the bed. “Go wash your fucking hair.”

I expected him to snap and snarl, but he walked past me and entered the bathroom. A few minutes later I heard the water start running.

I dozed lightly, hardly stirring when he came out. Still, I smelled, fresh, clean Vincent Valentine, which stimulated me almost as much as dirty, filthy Vincent Valentine. I cracked an eye open, too tempted to resist.

Holy Shiva.

No top, no boots, no bandana, just pants and the hotness packed inside them. He dripped water. It ran off his lovely, pearlescent skin, gliding over muscle and bone to the floor. Movements slow and deliberate, he approached me. I looked at that body, that face, awed and enchanted.

“Call Cloud’s room and tell him,” he said, registering how I looked at him.

I dragged the phone back over and called the desk for Strife’s room number, still admiring Valentine’s physique. I punched in the sequence and waited.

“Huh?” Strife answered.

“I’m going to pick up a package from Kindle,” I told him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Great. Let me know if anything comes up.”

“I will. What time do we move out in the morning?”

“Eight thirty.”

“Which room is Kisaragi in?”

“First one at the stairs, why?”

“No reason.”

I hung up on him. “Satisfied?” I asked Valentine.

“Yes.” He met my eyes. “You’re staring at me.”

“I know. I can’t seem to stop.”

He shook his head. “How, Hojo? How could you bear to want me?”

I sighed.

“Just answer me,” he said. “A good answer. Not an answer designed to push my temper.”

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you.”

He frowned. “You can’t let up for a moment.”

“I’m a very mean and relentless old man,” I replied. “And, I want a kiss.”

“I’m not kissing your poisonous mouth.” He backed away from me, eyes painfully serious and also overflowing with bewilderment. “How could you even wish for me to kiss you?”

“It isn’t hard, Valentine. You have beautiful lips.”

“Lips that were once all over Lucretia,” he said, raw pain settling onto his uncommon features.

“Maybe I’ll still taste her on you.” I sat up, then stood, coming closer to him. “I think if I did taste her while looking at you, I’d come.” I paused in my approach to consider that. “Well, come or cry,” I amended. “Either way it would be a release.”

Valentine’s eyelashes fluttered as he attempted to process my painful revelation. His graceful, dark brows made a V, moving his smooth, porcelain forehead. Ever so slightly, his full lips moved.

Even his uncomprehending expression was nothing more than a ripple of beauty.

“You never speak as if you’re angry with her, even when you speak ill,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t hold any of your resentment.”

“I’ve had time to think about it, Valentine. You aren’t angry with her either.” I couldn’t be angry with her, not when I wanted Valentine every bit as she must have. “She used us both, but we were adults and could have denied her what she asked for.”

He blinked back a spark of pain. “I never thought to deny her anything,” he confessed.

His unusual candor struck a refrain within me. I walked into the bathroom and changed into damp but clean clothing, putting my boots back on. I tied my hair back, cleaned my glasses and put them on again.

I couldn’t avoid the mirror now. Looking into my own black eyes, I saw more softness than ever before. I loathed being this way. I had no real defenses while in possession of a conscience.

When I returned, Valentine sat at the window, looking out over the wet streets. Lightning illuminated him for the briefest moment, revealing naked hurt.

“I never denied her either, not until the very last,” I said, putting my hand on the doorknob.

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

The small wooden crate would fit in my backpack.

I stopped in a sweet shop and bought Kisaragi a pint of raspberry vanilla ice cream. Then, before it could melt, I bought a combination dinner from a diner. My arms full, I made my way back to the inn.

I knocked on the first door at the top of the stairs. The little ninja opened the door without even asking who I was. “Hi, Jo!” she said brightly. Behind her, Lockhart threw her arms in the air in exasperation.

“What if I had been a Shin-Ra agent?” I asked.

“Then you wouldn’t have knocked.”

I smiled. She was probably right. “Here,” I said, handing her the paper bag containing the ice cream and spoon. “See you in the morning.”

Kisaragi gave a squeal as she discovered her prize. Before I could back away she grabbed my hand, jerking me down. I felt her lips on my cheek very briefly before I stared at the closed door.

What an excitable child.

Returning to the room I shared with tall, dark and brooding, I fumbled with the key. I found success after a twenty-second series of fuck-ups. Cursing, I pushed the door open and put my things down. I barely had time to turn before my vision filled with black and red.

Valentine grabbed me by the shoulders, his might forcing my back to the door. I tensed, ready for a blow, but I didn’t cringe away.

“Let’s find out,” he growled, his face lowering to mine. “I remember what she tasted like.”

His lips covered mine.

My eyes rolled back with pleasure. The drugging compound in his saliva made me so weak I could barely stand. I opened to him gladly, feeling his hot, strong tongue twine with mine. I’d never imagined his mouth could be this soft and yet so hard at the same time.

His hand gripped my head, yanking out my hair tie. But, he kept kissing me. I began to shake, feeling the unimaginable gratification of him running that hand throughout the strands. My cock swelled, excited beyond my reckoning. My very blood seemed to boil. I moaned into his mouth, compelled to touch but afraid.

If I touched him he might stop.

Shiva, his scent… I inhaled him, tasted him, breathed and absorbed him. Any lingering resentment for my wife’s infidelity slid away, overpowered by my own appreciation for this maddening, gorgeous creature. Lucretia really hadn’t been able to help herself. I couldn’t help myself.

Stroke, plunder, lick. I came undone, finally losing all strength in my legs. I slid down the door and he caught me, wrapping a monstrously strong arm around my waist. He pulled me to him, pressing his bare and perfectly made chest against my own. I felt his hardness against mine. My head dropped back, hitting the wood of the door.

He took my bared throat for an invitation, opening his old bite with near painless ease. I acutely felt every, sharp tooth.

Suddenly, I was moving. I felt a mattress under my unresisting body. Valentine straddled me, filling my senses with him and only him. Leather, gunpowder, rain and musk filled my nose. My eyes barely focused upon the swirl of ebony, of porcelain and the scarlet luminescence of his eyes. My ears took in every creak and fibrous stretch of his animal hide trousers.

“I want to touch you,” I groaned. “Please?”

He shuddered. I felt his hesitance, his reluctance to let go of that distance he strived to maintain. But, slowly, he reached for my hand, gripped and guided me to his muscled, rippling chest.

I let my fingers glide over the silken perfection of his skin, greedy for that tactile enjoyment. “Oh, son of a bitch,” I panted. “Valentine, you’re a fucking god.”

Again he trembled. I touched him carefully, reverently, of a mind to relieve instead of incite. From the way he behaved I knew he’d not had another lover since Lucretia, putting him in the same situation as I. He needed caring, gentleness in his physical joy. He needed harsh words but tender contact.

I wormed a hand under his waistband, alert for his unspoken denial. But, it never came. He needed the release I could give. I forgave him for denying me an acknowledgement this morning, for shying away from what I offered. He just didn’t know himself, and he hated that I knew him despite that.

“No strings, Valentine,” I sighed, freeing him. “This is for you. Feed and be fed.”

I caressed his hot, silken length, feeling the strength of him even here. He surged, jumped in my grip. I rejoiced in the power of all that heated, rippling flesh. He drained me slowly, seemingly content with my rich blood and compliance.

The pressure of his thick, hard erection in my hand made me crazy with want.

“Drink your fill,” I whispered. “Then, you come up and on me, let me wrap my lips around you.”

He trembled. I felt his teeth extract from my heated flesh. His movements withdrawn, he flexed, taking his narrow hips ever upward. I latched onto his needy cock, putting pressure onto the rod that he felt so free to dismiss.

The low, guttural sounds he uttered as I sucked him made me insane. I begged him to come, demanded it within my mind and needed it at my core. Though on the bottom, playing bitch, I felt powerful. He responded to my every cue, rocking and keening in time with my sensory prompts.

Then, he came, howling and snarling.

I gasped back surprise, taking the hot, sweet jets of liquid lust, amazed I’d brought him to the precipice so easily. I tasted his defeat, the hot, sugary tang of his submission.

I rued it when he moved, when he gently pulled his plump balls from my chin. He tried to get up and off of me, but I tugged him down to the bed. “Don’t run,” I bade him, crawling up his splendid body.

“Hojo,” he groaned, attempting to look away.

“Yes, Hojo,” I enforced. “There’s no shame in enjoying me, Turk.” I grabbed his jaw, feeling him tremble. “Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “But, you already have, countless times.” Shuddering, he looked up into my eyes.

Perhaps I should have claimed I wouldn’t break his heart. I didn’t know. Hell, this was all new to me as well. But, he exposed his throat to me right now. I’d worn him down and worn him out, stretched him thin. His strength relied upon keeping distance from people, and I’d forced him to interact with me over and over and over.

“Do you need alone time now, Valentine?” I asked softly, releasing him. If he could be honest with me, I could be merciful to him.

“Yes,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

I climbed off of him, though I hated to do it. He tucked his still half-swelled penis back into his pants and pulled the laces tight. I loved the display of his bulging arm muscles and rippling abs.

Walking back to my bags, I picked up my dinner and opened it. The contents, utterly shuffled, didn’t look appetizing. I almost threw it in the trash, but stopped at hearing Valentine’s voice.

“You haven’t eaten in four days,” he said. “What is fueling your body?”

“I guess poison,” I chuckled, taking up the plastic fork. I’d eat some of this swill, anyway.

He gave me a look between dubious belief and exasperation. “Have you fucked with your own body like you fucked with everyone else’s?”

“The tentacles don’t answer that question for you, beautiful?”

He sighed loudly. “A fool’s entreaty,” he said, “but, please do not call me that.”

“You’d rather hear my other endearments, like ‘fucking Turk’ and ‘dumb jock’?”

“Yes.”

I rolled my eyes and continued to eat. The lukewarm food didn’t have any recognizable constituents or ethnicity, but I could taste vitamins in it.

“Why?” he asked suddenly. “Why did you experiment on yourself, too? You had no end of lab rats.”

“I gave myself Jenova cells before allowing Lucretia to put them in her womb with Sephiroth.” I opened my container of milk and drank half of it before continuing. Feeding Valentine my blood made for a raging thirst. “I gave myself mako so that I wouldn’t have to get beaten up by geek-haters my entire life,” I went on. “It’s proven a useful combination.”

Useful, indeed. Now, when some big bully or troublemaker saw my slender body and decided to target me, I thrashed them.

He said nothing. I finished eating and tossed the garbage in the bathroom rubbish bin so he wouldn’t have to smell it souring. Food smells probably disturbed him anyway. I considered that while washing my hands. He could eat and his body would use the food properly, even to eliminating waste from his system. But, I hadn’t seen him eat. That meant he didn’t require food. He required blood.

He faced the wall when I walked back into the main room. Inwardly sighing, I cracked the top on the crate and sat down on the bed, spreading the contents out one by one.

Fourteen, wrapped syringes.
Fourteen vials of mako.
Seven vials of nutrients, specifically for mako-engineered males.
Alcohol swabs, lancets, needles for sewing in flesh.
Latex gloves.


“What is all this?” Valentine asked, apparently having snuck a look and been naturally quite interested. Anytime I would have access to the tools of my trade, he’d feel leery.

“Your salvation,” I answered. “One vial should do it. The rest you should put somewhere safe and restricted. I estimate you should give one of these to yourself every thirty years or so.” I held up a mako vial. “This is mako, in case you can’t remember what it looks like in liquid form. The other, red vials are nutritional supplements.”

“You had mako stored here in Berry Burrow.” Valentine sat up to eye me.

“Do you honestly imagine I enjoy pleading with you, Valentine?” I asked. “Do you think it thrills me to rape you?”

“You enjoyed it,” he grunted.

“Truthfully, I did for a few minutes. If you’ll recall, I offered to let you rape me too, until I bled.”

He shivered. His eyes went back to the medical accoutrement. “You’re going to give me mako now?”

“No, I’m going to show you how to give it to yourself. You need the knowledge.”

“I don’t wish to learn.”

“Why?”

“Needles bother me.” Valentine’s eyes locked upon the far wall. “It’s better if you do it.”

I stared at him. He resolutely continued avoiding my eyes, perhaps expecting me to make some cutting observations. He had nerve to hand me a phobia, a weakness, and then leave himself open to attack.

I prepped a needle. “If you want,” I said. “But, consider learning this, Valentine. You won’t be able to walk into a hospital with your mako and needles and demand someone stick you. And, I won’t always be here to do it.”

“You’re the one who gave me the phobia anyway,” he grumbled, holding out his arm.

“I don’t doubt I’m responsible for thousands of phobias in thousands of people. You actually got lucky, Valentine, if that’s all the fear I left with you.” I slid the needle into him gently, keeping his skin taut to make the entry easy. “This is going to burn for a few minutes, and make your blood feel hot. Just relax afterward and lay flat.” As I spoke I pressed the plunger.

He stretched out when I finished, his crimson gaze on the slowly rotating ceiling fan. I gathered the supplies and put them in my pack, since he didn’t have one.

“You’re a doctor as well as a professor and a mad scientist,” he said quietly. “Don’t doctors take oaths not to hurt people?”

“I never took the oath.”

“Then, you aren’t accredited?”

“Oh, I’m accredited,” I assured him. “But, nowhere in the medical statues does it say one must take the oath. Everybody does, even if they mean to uphold that or not. I simply didn’t lie.”

A dark, warm chuckle of amusement escaped his lips. Claws curled upon the sheets. “And so,” he intoned, “your reputation began.”

Smiling, I began searching the floor for my hair tie. Finding it, I prepared to put it back on.

“Leave your hair down,” Valentine demanded in a rough voice, propping up on an elbow.

I met his gaze. Slowly, I put the tie around my wrist instead.

“Come here.”

His sudden aggression thrilled me. I walked back to the bed, my pace neither fast nor slow. When I stood next to him, he almost seemed to smile.

“Wanting me makes you obey me?” he asked.

“Haven’t you always found that to be true with any prospective sexual partner?” I returned his question with a question.

“Just answer me.”

“Yes, then.”

Valentine blinked. Silent, he reached for my arm and tugged, bringing me to the bed with him. We lay there, looking into each other’s eyes. I saw uncertainty, ego and fear all take a crack at him.

“Did you really give Yuffie the necklace simply because she wanted it?”

“I gave it to her because she admired it, and because I could either hand it over or guard my pack every second.”

Humor found a red home for a few moments.

“How did you know what I was like in school? You weren’t there.”

“I explained it and you threw me out of my own tent before rubbing my face in a fire.”

“You made me angry enough to kill you.” He paused. “Several times,” he added.

“I like it rough. I also like watching your expressions. They’re very pure and condensed, Valentine, because you don’t move your face very much.”

Valentine considered me a long moment. “Are you brutally honest all the time or is this just the way you’ve always treated me?”

“If I have a good reason, I’ll lie. If not, I tell the truth as I see it.”

“Then answer this.” Valentine leaned a little closer to me, putting his head above mine and forcing me onto my back. “Did you fuck me the afternoon you removed bullets from my body?”

I might get another good beating yet.

“Yes. You wouldn’t have lasted another two days.”

He closed his eyes. “You slippery little prick,” he growled, taking my head in both hands. I felt his claws digging into my scalp. “I knew it. I couldn’t prove it, but I knew it.”

“If it helps, I didn’t enjoy it. It almost made me cry.”

Those red eyes popped open. “Why?” he demanded. His grip didn’t relax.

My throat tightened. “You were helpless and limp. It kept me from getting a beating, and it kept you from expiring, but it wasn’t good. I couldn’t even look at you. I had to close my eyes and imagine you instead.”

Valentine’s gaze un-shuttered. “You didn’t rub my face in it,” he said softly.

“No.”

“Why not? You’ve subjected me to ridicule on everything else.” He let go of me. Again he had to pull claw from bone. “What made it different? I was unwilling for you to shoot me and modify my dying body these thirty-six years past.”

“I don’t resent you for the sake of my wife anymore. I got that out of my system entirely.”

Valentine sat beside me, drawing his knees up. He draped both arms over, letting his sharp, metal fingers dangle and flex. His flesh hand remained still. “Increasingly,” he murmured, “I understand the way your mind works. Provided you do tell me the truth, that is.”

“That’s because you’re actually observing me now, instead of actively avoiding my presence.” I remained on my back in case his temper lashed out. Valentine wasn’t a dog, but I’d discovered humans responded to that cue of non-aggression. While manic and actively cruel, I’d thrashed people a lot less if they cowered.

“How do you know I’ve been watching you?” His eyes shifted to the side.

“Aside from the obvious?”

“Yes.”

“I can feel it when I’m being observed.”

My answer made him sigh. “Of course,” he murmured. “You’re a talented, skillful little beast, aren’t you?”

“No more than you, resident killer,” I answered.