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Retribution Nor Redemption	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 623 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
"Retribution Nor Redemption" and the general overall
concept of "Retribution Nor Redemption" is completely copyright Orin Drake
2002-2005, as are the characters Kyrie Leonhart and Rodger Kinneas.
The characters Seifer Almasy, Squall Leonhart, Quistis Trepe, Ellone (Leonhart?),
Laguna Loire and Rinoa "The Great Big Bitch" Heartily (biased? me?) are
copyright Squaresoft, as are the terms SeeD, gunblade, Trabia Garden, Griever,
and probably a lot of other stuff I forgot to mention. Hell, if you
played the game, you know. Enough said.

        Background:
Well. Here is the "anticipated" sequel to The Sins of Two Fathers.
This won't be as much action as it will be psychological warfare, I think.
Don't know what else to tell you. Beware bad language, sexuality
and social outcasts having fun regardless of their status at the expense
of others.

Retribution Nor Redemption

Chapter 3

by Orin Drake
        Well, they'd kind of gotten
up early. Noon was early, right? Early enough. Showered,
dressed, fed and on the Jet at 2:00. So they'd taken their time.

        Navigating the maze of the
Presidential Palace was no harder than usual--until they got around to
Laguna's office. The hallways in front of it and many yards to either
side were completely blocked with furniture. Some of it was recognizable,
but others... well, were half assembled at best.

        As they stood there, deciding
whether it was best to climb over and try their luck at balance or possibly
under with the risk of collapse, Vincent walked up behind them. "Battlefield."
He stated simply.

        Kyrie turned with a smirk.
"So Deiling Furniture finally delivered?" Long story short, they'd
been waiting on some new desks and cabinets for months, told each time
that they were "on the way". Apparently it was true this time around.

        "On the day before a political
meeting." Vincent confirmed. "All of the hallways looked like
this this morning."

        "Glad we're late."
Rodger grinned.

        "Kiros will you damn well
stop trying to lift that?" they heard the president yell from the other
end of the furniture mountain.

        "Well, that's our cue to
help." Kyrie announced. "Where should we put all of this?"

        "Anywhere that won't be
seen by Trabia's leadership." Vincent suggested helpfully.

        Good thing they'd eaten
breakfast. It wasn't really that any of the stuff was all that heavy
(maybe that was a slightly negative sign about the quality of the materials
used), but it did take more than one person to slide and lift a great deal
of it. They made all the use they could out of paper storage rooms
and unused offices, stacking and shoving whatever possible together.

        There was still the matter
of straightening up the place a bit if Mr. Echsnei wanted a tour. This
would be a pretty important visit in a number of political respects.
It's not that the Trabia government was being violently overthrown or anything.
It was merely that the long-time residents weren't certain if they preferred
a monarchy or a representative republic. Or anything else, for that
matter. Either way, Echsnei was still in power as the "ruler".
So, as to cut through all of the confusion, his official title for the
time being was "Mister". Must be confusing to the life-long Trabia
residents. Hell, governments all over the world had changed like
garments over the past twenty years or so. Laguna was pretty much
the only one to have remained in power and with the same title. A
little scary, to tell the truth.

        "Isn't Elle supposed to
have been here to help us with this?" Kyrie finally asked, leaning against
a wall then letting herself slide down it until she was sitting on the
floor. Hey, it was clean.

        Laguna crossed his arms,
regarding the once again empty hallway. "Well, she is supposed to
get back from the Balamb Resort sometime today." He looked up and
down the hall thoughtfully. "And who wants to help move my desk?"

        Rodger looked down at his
girlfriend, realizing that he was out in the open, completely exposed to
the predator that was Laguna's cry for help. He gave her a slightly
pleading look.

        "I'll do laundry if you
go." She offered far too sweetly.

        "I don't know if it's worth
it." He responded.

        "But I'm ever so tired."
She tried to suppress a wicked little smile.

        Rodger pretended to be very
offended and walked away from her to Laguna. "I'd rather go with
you, anyway. She's a cruel, cold woman."

        "Can't argue with that."
Vincent quipped, leaning against the wall next to Kyrie.

        "I knew you were
all against me. I just never really realized it so... completely
before." She made an overdramatic sigh.

        The President smiled and
wrapped an arm around Rodger, seeing his opportunity. "Great.
Bonding time!"

        "Kyrie!" Rodger mock-cried
as he was lead away down the hall. "Help!"

        "No." She called simply,
waving.

        Vincent crossed his arms
and grinned at this display. Seeing that they were now abandoned
in a remote hallway, he struck up a conversation. "So, what are
you going to do now?"

        "I really don't know."
She admitted, almost under her breath. "I'm not sure of exactly what
I'm interested in." She got her legs underneath her and slid back
up the wall, her muscles still aching from all of that damn furniture stacking.

        He stared down the hall
for a moment, seriously pondering a number of options running through his
head. "Well, you can always intern for me I suppose."

        She detected a hint of...
deviousness in his voice. Maybe it was just her imagination, but
she swore she could hear it. "I don't know about that one.
I thought you were sick to death of me already."

        "Only almost." He
smirked. "There's still time to ultimately hate you."

        "Sweet." She said
flatly.

        He chuckled. "You
have no idea at all? No plans?"

        "Well, I was relatively
certain I wasn't going to graduate at all." She admitted.

        "Ah, no faith in yourself."

        "When it counts."

        "Yes. Indeed."
There was something very unsettling about that smile. Softly
and casually, he commented, "You
do know the speaker/microphone
switch to the answering machine was on last night, right? And that
it transmits sounds even through the ringing?"

        Oh. My.
She knew what he was saying, but it didn't quite... compute at first.
When it did, there was an almost audible click in her brain. "I...
I do now."

        His eyes turned dark, but
not from anger. It was more of a playfulness he was feeling.
"Watch out for that next time."

        Something deep inside of
her desperately wanted to ask, "Or what?" But she obviously
couldn't let that part take over at the moment. "I will. Thanks."
Why,
after all of that, after what that had just
entailed,
she actually did not feel either awkward or embarrassed, she would
never understand.

        "Would you like some coffee
while we wait?" he continued on as if their entire conversation was as
easy and natural as it always was.

        Rodger stared blankly at
her as he located her, alone, in one of the little "coffee nooks" that
was located two or three to a floor in the Presidential Palace. She
just gave him a great big grin and lifted her cup, taking another sip.
"Have you been here the whole time while I was being forced to help?" he
joked.

        "Almost." She stated
simply, that incredibly huge expression of deep amusement not leaving.
It was clearly noticeable by her companion, to say the least.

        "What?!" he finally asked,
seeing that elaborate smile plastered on her face.

        "The speaker/mic switch
was on when Vincent called." She answered quietly. "And apparently,
you can hear what's going on even through the ringing."

        He paled. How absolutely
embarrassing. "And why are you smiling about this?"

        "Because it's funny as hell."
She answered, unable to control the giggle rearing its ugly head.

        "And you call me
the sick-o." He joked, still astonished. "And he's not... y'know,
weirded out? Or upset?"

        "Nope." She responded,
taking the last gulp, then placing the cup back on the counter with a dull
thunk. "I think you owe me a pastry for the kink bet."

        "That doesn't prove he's
kinky." He grinned and grasped Kyrie around the waist, taking a little
break himself.

        "And what does it prove?"
she inquired ever so sweetly.

        "Oh, I don't know.
I'm just looking for more proof." He teased, kissing her cheek affectionately.

        There was quite the silence
in the glare she threw his direction. "You are a fucking demon."
She finally commented, many thoughts dancing through that sick head of
hers.

        "Please, not in public."
Came a voice from around the corner, walking closer.

        The couple exchanged that
instant, half second long glance with one another. But, thankfully,
they both kept their mouths shut regarding the earlier subject. Rodger
took the initiative for the conversation. "Does anyone need anything
else done?"

        Vincent came around the
corner, his arms full of bound paperwork. "Now that's very kind of
you, to volunteer your services."

        Rodger released a disgruntled
moan. "That's supposed to go to the transportation office, isn't
it?"

        Vincent nodded, a horribly
vicious smile on his face. "As I said, nice of you to deliver it
for me..."

        "I don't want a damn thing
to do with that woman." He pushed Kyrie forward. "She'll do
it."

        His girlfriend looked back
at him with halfway joking contempt. "What makes you say that?"

        "Uh..." he searched for
something that would make this trip worthwhile. "Dinner?"

        She stared at him for a
long period of time, only seeing his hopeful expression grow more hopeful,
little by little. "Oh, fine." She turned back to Vincent and
offered her arms to take the load. "If I have to do shit like this
all the time, I'm finding a job elsewhere."

        Vincent only grinned, glad
to get out of seeing the transportation secretary. "I really, really
hate that woman." He admitted openly for the umpteenth time.

        "So do I." Kyrie mumbled.
"But at least she's easily frightened."

        "If this doesn't
do it," Vincent held up his claw, "What will?"

        There was no way she could
directly answer that question that wouldn't make her appear to be the world's
biggest pervert. So, she looked back to Rodger. "You owe me
dinner and dessert."

        He just held up a thumb
with a great big and understandably relieved grin. Hell, he didn't
have to deal with that woman, he was glad. She was so... latchy.
In a very disturbing sort of way. She was... normal in a way that
went so far beyond normal, it was grotesquely abnormal.

        Vincent waited until she
disappeared into the lift across the hall, then started up a conversation.
"I've noticed you seem a bit more... attentive to her of late."

        Strikingly blunt though
the beginning of the conversation was, Rodger actually knew what he meant.
How, he wasn't sure. After the whole conversation before, he might
have been a bundle of nerves or even giggling like an idiot around the
man, let alone what he'd just said, but... Vincent was "one of them".
Part of the "circle of freaks", maybe. "I've just been... a little
worried lately."

        Funny how acute the man
had become at sensing the emotions of others. It was often the most
subtle things that set off his senses. He'd learned long ago to listen
to that, to build off of those signals. "Just lately?"

        "Always." Rodger admitted
quietly. "But... mostly lately. She's had some dreams about
her parents. Just regular, mundane things, but... gets me thinking."
He paused, trying to put those thoughts into words. "It doesn't seem
like... she's holding anything in. Not intentionally. But...
I wonder."

        Vincent nodded, glancing
at the illuminated lift display. Well, that was quick. "Are
you worried she may have a breakdown?"

        Rodger blinked, his stomach
instantly tightening. "Well, I wasn't before."

        Vincent let out a low, carefully
placed chuckle. "She'll be alright. But there is something
built up in there." He had worried, himself. Since the moment
Squall had died, he had worried about her. But she assured him time
and time again that she could handle it. Just never in so many words.

        The lift dinged it's arrival,
and out stepped a slightly out of breath Kyrie with no papers. "A
drop and run." She announced.

        "Aww, Jilly didn't even
get to see you and tell you there are colored contacts you can get for
your eyes." Rodger beamed brightly.

        "Keep that up and I'll tell
her you both want to see her." She threatened.

        "What did I do?" Vincent
asked in the most innocent voice he could muster.

        "You look guilty."
She joked. In truth, she was a hair's breadth away from having said,
"You
two alone together? Hyne knows." But that... that may have
been a bit too much. At least, at that point in time.

        It was at that moment Kiros
interrupted their conversation. He was actually, literally, sprinting
down the hall. In what looked like sheer panic.

        In a very easy-going voice,
Vincent seemed to snare him and force him to stop for conversation.
"And just what are you running around for this time?"

        The man was clearly out
of breath and on the verge of something mental. "Mr. Echsnei
has decided he'd like to visit early. Today. In an hour."

        Well, an early government
visit was certainly something to panic about. At least, a lot more
so than what Kiros normally panicked about. Kyrie attempted the same
easy-going tone so as not to "startle the wild animal". "The halls
are clean. What's the problem?"

        Kiros bowed his head ever
so slightly. "I have no idea where Laguna is."

        The other three exchanged
a quick, amused glance at one another before they turned back to the matter
at hand. Rodger had meant to say something a little more reassuring
than what came out, but... "Good luck."

        "Thank you." The man
responded sincerely enough, then bounded off in the other direction as
if he'd never even stopped in the first place.

        Kyrie took a moment to regard
her ensemble. Not quite stately, but her usual. Jeans, boots,
short sleeved dark blue tee. She pulled her hair out of the loose
ponytail and whipped it around a little. Good enough.

        Rodger regarded himself
similarly. Why was it he only seemed to worn things that were torn
and faded? Eh, nothing he could do about it. So he parodied
her hair toss.

        Vincent crossed his arms
and smirked at the two of them for their half-assed efforts. But
then, he needed to do absolutely nothing. Never did. Always
a suit, always. It was old habit. "Well, I suppose we ought
to find the president. Kiros will be running in circles for some
time."

        It was never really hard
to find Laguna. Just look in the places you'd expect him--then turn
around. Never failed. They'd located him in minutes, informed
him, and off they'd gone to find Kiros again. That was a bit harder,
though they did finally catch up to him thanks to the sound of his ragged
breathing after all of that running. He wouldn't be living that one
down for quite some time.

        Well, things really were
in order for the most part. Laguna was quite casual about the whole
thing. Nervous, but casual. He knew Mr. Echsnei to be considered
a very down to earth sort of man. And the citizens of Trabia seemed
to like him quite a bit, regardless of what kind of government they ultimately
decided upon. There were never plans to get him removed that he'd
heard of.

        It seemed things were certainly
clean enough. Not as spotless as Kiros insisted they be, but nothing
could ever reach that standard. The guards were informed so they
could have a little greeting ceremony as Mr. Echsnei arrived, and the rest
of the time was spent trying to convince Kiros that he needed to relax.
Laguna threatened to put together a panel just to see if they could accomplish
that one task.

        When the Trabia government
procession of seven arrived (and right on time, sweetly enough), things
went smoothly. Laguna and Kiros went about with the official greetings
while Rodger, Kyrie and Vincent stayed behind to... well, wait. There
was a lovely little conference hall near the heart of the palace designed
specifically for these small, friendly gatherings, so they simply waited
and watched the coverage on the big screen television.

        "Do you think Kiros was
born like that..." Kyrie ever so subtly pulled a tin of pretzels out of
one of the fancy ottomans, "Or do you think it was time with Laguna that
made him hyper-obsessive?" She placed the tin on the edge of the
table and sat back down at the end.

        Rodger and Vincent made
momentary eye contact across the table to one another, but it was actually
Vincent that removed the tin's lid before responding. "It must simply
be Kiros. The president hasn't done anything to me. So far."

        "I don't know about that."
Kyrie grinned, snagging a handful of pretzels for herself. "You're...
quite different from when I first met you."

        "Well, that is your
fault." He responded with a completely straight face.

        Rodger smiled widely, but
did nothing more than start munching on his own handful of snacks.
With another glimpse at the television, he inquired, "Uh... are they planning
a tour before or after they sit down and chat?"

        They looked to Vincent,
but he only shrugged and casually started to nibble on a single pretzel.
So, Kyrie in all of her infinite wisdom, shoved the entire handful of her
own snacks into her mouth, covered the tin, and hid it again. "No
prmblm."

        "And now I recall why you
aren't here to greet heads of countries often." It seemed Vincent
was on a roll. But he broke into a chuckle when he got a single finger
in response.

        Rodger pondered his situation.
Sure he could do what his ever so couth and proper girlfriend had.
But that seemed doubly appalling considering this was Kiros' "private stash"
of which no one supposedly knew about. It certainly explained how
the man got a hold of so much energy, secretly snacking all day.
But he decided upon another road: stuffing them into his pocket.
"For later." He jokingly assured the amused looks.

        Just in time, too.
The door on the far side of the room was just opening, and Laguna's voice
could be heard going on and on about... something. Luckily, there
was also some pleasant laughter to accompany it. The pretzel thieves
stood up and turned around quickly, pretending that they'd been ready for
this all along.

        Laguna beamed at them.
It seemed he and Trabia's leader were at the very least getting along.
"And this would be my most important assembled staff and family... you
included, Kiros." He added, over his shoulder.

        Taking his cue, Vincent
stepped forward and offered his flesh hand in greeting. "Mr. Echsnei.
I'm Vincent Valentine, head of palace security."

        "Mr. Valentine." The
man greeted in a husky voice. He was almost as tall as Vincent, dressed
in a gray suit with a shock of red hair. "Sorry for so little of
a warning."

        Kyrie watched closely, hopefully
without appearing to have been studying the situation. He seemed
a nice enough guy. She'd never heard anything bad about him, truth
be told. And, regardless of the small parade of people he carried
behind him, he seemed quite natural and at ease in this setting.
She instantly resumed a polite smile as the attention was turned her direction.

        "And this is my granddaughter,
Kyrie, and her boyfriend, Rodger Kinneas." Laguna announced with
all the pride appropriate.

        "Nice to meet you, Mr. Echsnei."
She greeted genuinely. Hell, he hadn't done anything to piss her
off. Yet, anyway.

        The man actually smiled
and shook her outstretched hand, nodding politely. "Kyrie Leonhart.
It is very nice to finally meet you." Strangely enough, he meant
it. Obviously he knew her lineage; but more than that, he knew she'd
attended Trabia Garden. Not once had he had the chance to visit during
his administration.

        Off to the side, as Rodger
was meeting and greeting, Laguna and Vincent watched. "It's interesting..."
the president commented quietly, mostly to himself. "It seems like
everyone that ever meets her... either really likes her or really hates
her right away. I didn't used to think that was fair."

        "And now?" Vincent inquired,
seeing Mr. Echsnei actually chuckle at a comment most people likely wouldn't.
Certainly not in the company of a man with a claw and an Almasy relation.

        "Well... now I think she
forces them to reveal more about themselves than they ever would have had
they not met her."

        Vincent grinned subtly.
"You have a good point, there." Laguna clearly wasn't as all as...
uh, less than observant as he was known to be. Well, not when it
came to the truly important things.

        The rest of the visit went
off without a hitch. Quick though it was, at least nothing went wrong.
Kiros still freaked a little (and looked very puzzled when he saw the top
of the ottoman was slightly askew; something Even Vincent had to concentrate
to keep a straight face about), but all was well. Though there was
that time when Rodger had readjusted in his chair and the sound of crunching
had occurred, sending he, Kyrie and Vincent into a fit of covering their
mouths subtly...

        The tour also went along
astoundingly well. Mr. Echsnei actually commented as to how clean
and well maintained the hallways were (Kiros beamed--and instantly stepped
in front of the empty office that held a heap of furniture). It was
a short visit, all in all, but a nice one. Relaxed, friendly, entertaining.

        Almost the moment Mr. Echsnei's
train left the station, Ellone's arrived. It was quite funny, actually,
seeing as how Elle had heard on the radio that the visit was in progress
and had taken the time and effort to change into a fancy dress in one of
the train's rest rooms. "All dressed up and nowhere to go."
She giggled, giving everyone her standard happy hugs.

        It was quite soon after
that Kyrie and Rodger had decided to go home... or more along the lines
that Vincent had jokingly dismissed them, and they went along with it.
It was getting late, they were (miraculously) tired. Dinner was a
couple of tuna sandwiches, some Coke. No big deal, really.
But it was so gratifying to eat in their own house. Eerie, but neat.

        Kind of weird to be eating
at a real table, though. And certainly here... Kyrie couldn't
help but think of how wrong it felt to be sitting in Seifer's old spot.
Rodger had picked Squall's randomly, but... that felt weird, too.
Not bad, not wrong, but... different.

        She missed them. Terribly,
really. Sometimes she'd wake up with their voices in her mind, like
the days when one of them would venture in to wake her up for some sort
of day long adventure. When she opened her eyes, they'd adjust to
the room around her and she would see that she wasn't in her room anymore,
let alone on the same continent. It was all she could do to stifle
a moan from time to time.

        But she did not cry.
And she didn't really understand why that was. She never could
have explained it, let alone really understood it. It hurt so badly
to know she'd never see them again, to know how they died. Secretly,
she did blame herself a little. The "what ifs" built up after a while.
And she always had that same cold, distant look in her eyes when she thought
about it. It made her face look half dead and hollow, but every once
in a while she just couldn't help it.

        Feeling Rodger's hand reach
across to cover hers shook her out of it. She blinked like she'd
been struck and stopped looking through him, to look at him. "Passing
thought." She dismissed quietly.

        "Yeah, I know." He
countered.

        She felt comfort in his
tone, but worry in his touch. Shooting him a questioning look, she
waited for an answer.

        "I don't know." He
admitted quietly. "But... you never did cry for them. Not once."

        "Not my style." She
joked.

        He smiled knowingly at that.
It was definitely true, sure. But... "I just don't know. I'd
hate to think you were... holding it all in or anything like that."

        "You'd hate to think a lot
of things." She teased slightly. "It still doesn't seem...
whole. Real. Complete. I don't know why. It's like...
there's a portion missing. I don't... I'm not sure I understand it
any better."

        He nodded at her explanation,
just glad she was still talking to him. To have been shut out would
have been absolutely awful. The fact she would talk of the painful
things even though she had so little to say was comforting.

        The silence in this place
was just too much for her to bear at that moment in time. "Well then.
If you don't mind, I think I'll make a quick check on Cloud, and then we'll
go to bed."

        He smiled, knowing it was
not an intentional avoiding subject change. "Sounds good."

        Hey, Spikey Head.
You awake?

        Funny. Flashed
up on the screen, followed by, Really.

        Funny ha-ha or funny
shut up? she ventured.

        I don't need to answer
that.

        Too true. She
responded, glad for the humor. How goes out there in the depths
of space?

        Boredom for the moment.
Hey, isn't it getting late there?

        Yeah. She admitted.
But
I thought I'd make sure you weren't dead or anything. I mean, then
I wouldn't be able to impress people.

        Morbid tonight, are we?
he joked.

        I just wish you'd come
back down, Cloud. She typed without thinking it through.

        Are you alright? popped
up quickly.

        Yeah. She responded
after cracking her knuckles. I'm fine. Just a weird mood,
I guess. I mean, shit, think about it. You're floating around
in space with a freaky head and I'm chatting with you every day from the
planet way down below.

        That doesn't seem normal,
no... he agreed. But... it works, right?

        It has to. She
responded. I guess that's what bothers me.

        Yeah, I know what you
mean. He assured her. Responsibility sucks.

        Well, at least that made
her laugh. Like a fuckin' leech.

        Now go to bed.
He advised.

        She walked into the bedroom
with a yawn. What a day. Moving furniture, flinging quips back
and forth between family and friends like it was pudding in a food fight,
meeting heads of countries. Just another day, really. She looked
at Rodger, suspiciously looking back at her.

        His infamous peeling off
of the shirt followed by the fling was finished not by the usual yawn and
stretch, but by the ever so slow unbuckling of his belt. Equally
slowly he tugged the end out, a vicious smile starting to cross his lips.
She wanted dessert from earlier? She'd get dessert. He wrapped
the buckle end around his right hand and slowly stretched out his arms
so that the belt was taunt between his fists. He expertly gave her
that glorious little devious expression through the hair that had fallen
into his face and waited patiently for the reaction.

        It was instantaneous.
"Damn you." She whispered, already having surrendered. He'd
just gotten to know her too fucking well. He manipulated that leather
against her flesh with fucking mastery, knowing just where and how
hard at just the right moment.

        He didn't even bother moving;
he knew he had her. His voice dropped to a growl, low and powerful.
"Take off your clothes and get on the bed."

        The jokes and smart-ass
comments ceased with that order. This was too good. She did
as commanded quickly, leaving the garments along with the guilt on the
floor where they landed. She knew the drill--and she wasn't tired
of it one bit. On the bed, hands and knees.

        The first unexpected crack
found her shoulder. She fought to keep all sound inside but a steady
breathing; a challenge. That was instantly answered as a weight settled
right behind her, then an arm was wrapped around her neck. She let
herself be pulled backwards, leaning against him. The smoothness
of his chest and the coarseness of his jeans was a lovely sensation when
mixed with the teeth marks he left in her neck. As he bit down, his
palm gently slid between her legs.

        That certainly enticed a
gasp. Challenge accepted and won, damn. Before she even had
the chance to gain balance on all fours again as she was thrown back down,
another
crack struck a broad path across her back. Then three
lashes in rapid succession. As the last crack echoed in her
head, over her skin, it was joined by the sound of his zipper.

        Ah, second challenge.
And so quickly. She intentionally waited until she heard the thump
of the fabric into the floor before she bolted forward--caught by almost
viciously strong hands by her hips and yanked back. She bit her tongue
as she felt the whispers of soft flesh lightly against her thighs, just
waiting...

        Then he shoved her forward,
landing on top of her. One hand scooped securely around her neck
while the other supported him as he rubbed slowly and deliberately against
the small of her back.

        She let go for a moment
just to enjoy this sensation--then it was on to answering the challenge.
He'd let go of the belt. In fact, she could see it. She bucked
once, testing against the rhythm, then twice with force. With the
same, purely instinct driven movement, she turned her body over and rolled,
grasping him around the neck, so that she wound up on top, looking down
at him. In that motion, she had successfully grasped the belt; she
looped it around his neck and pulled it tight before he could so much as
struggle against her.

        His domination was shattered
in a completely uncontrollable moan. She always knew exactly
when to take him by surprise and turn the tables. He felt her slowly,
deliberately seat herself on top of him--though, considering he was not
wearing protection, she did not allow him entry--and pull the belt just
a little tighter so that it bit into his flesh. With that came almost
painfully slow movement.

        Second challenge answered,
but not completed. One hand looped around the belt and the other
pressed against his shoulder for balance, she sped up the pace. A
steady rhythm of fasts and slows, short and long ensued until she leaned
further down and gained her own pleasure--with it, finally offering the
speed and frequency so important to release, sliding farther down at the
last possible second.

        Arms wrapped around her,
fingernails clawing, muscles tensing, breath hitching... and then the desperate
grasp onto something became a lazy hug. Her fingers were practically
numb as she loosened the belt and took it off. Before recovery comes
safety. Once the belt was out of the way, she gave in and collapsed,
totally exhausted and quite sore. After a long, thorough silence,
she finally found the strength to murmur, "We have to go to bed, now."

        He laughed through the heavy
breathing. "In a minute."

        She grinned, gently lifting
and dismounting like one would a horse, getting the box of tissues on the
night stand. "Did I do good?"

        "Done real good."
He panted, a wide smile on his face. "Hope I left a mark this time."

        She grabbed a tissue for
herself, then turned around for his inspection. It sure as hell felt
like he'd left something.

        "Barely bleeding."
He teased, grasping for the offered tissues.

        After the cleaning (and
the recovery), they dawned their respective undergarments and pulled back
the covers, sliding into their bed. It was no longer quite as weird
as it was the night before. Now it was starting to get... comfortable.
Homey. Their tiring activities and satin sheets were certainly a
glorious way to end a day.

        "I love you." He whispered
softly. Nightly routine; but those words had never lost their original
meaning.

        "I love you, too."
She whispered back, pressing even closer up against him.

        She sat bolt upright, dripping
with cold sweat, her hands holding the covers around her in a vice grip.
Nightmare.
She tried to tell herself. Just a nightmare. A really bad
nightmare.

        "Kyrie?" Rodger was shaken
awake by the sudden movement.

        She closed her eyes, breathing
deeply. "Nightmare." She said quietly.

        "No kidding." He commented,
sitting up to lightly press his palm against her back. She was radiating
heat so furiously that he almost yanked his hand back. "You're burning
up."

        "Might be getting sick,
then." She convinced herself as much as him. "Shouldn't have
shaken hands with all of those damn people."

        A little ease settled over
her boyfriend's mind as he sat up with her. "S'pose not. I
bet world leaders are notorious for not washing their hands."

        Her heart was still racing,
but she grinned at him. "Maybe they believe themselves above germs."

        He rubbed her back gently,
getting used to the heat as the skin slowly cooled off. "It's not
usual you have nightmares." He commented. "At least, not like
this."

        "Never had one like this
at all." She rubbed her eyes, recovering her hold on reality.
She collected the shatters of the dream, somewhat surprised that she could
still recall almost every detail. She wished to hell she didn't.
"Sephiroth." She murmured. "It was Sephiroth."

        Completely understandable
why she'd woken like that, he thought. She'd told him long ago everything
that had happened, and everything she knew of the man. Attractive
though she found him physically... there was a discouraging fear there.
Not of the man, really, but what he'd done--what he was capable of doing.
She didn't know the whole of the story, but she knew Cloud and Vincent
felt similarly in the fear matter.

        Regardless of knowing
she was awake, and knowing it had been an incredibly real and detrimental
nightmare...
she still felt a little trapped by it. The memory just would not
fade. Not even in childhood had she had dreams like this. But,
cooled off and soothed, she let Rodger guide her back under the covers
and to sleep.
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Retribution Nor Redemption